#It's been a long time since he had drawn a cover page

[tushanfoxspirit]

So beautiful and heart warming…

[shepscapades]

Shep. Shep... SHEP....

Oh my god, wonderful thing to wake up to tbh, THIS, THIS PART THIS AAAA AAAAA IT'S SO GREAT

I want to speak about some things here!!!

I can't even see his face but your Xisuma is SO PRETTY, I knew you were going to give him long hair I JUST KNEW IT

love how Doc needs to lean on X to get on his knees because you know HE DOESN'T HAVE HIS OTHER ARM NEEDED FOR BALANCE??

Looks a lot like Etho getting a flashback (left corner) because he's not covered in thirium and also the colouring is different, not sure to what this flashback could refer to, but I'm gussing last life (maybe his final death in last life? Since this situation is also very death-like)

Absolutely LOVE this panel, I really like how in the entirety of this comic the lines that divide panels are always messy/electric/chaotic because that's what's happening in the comic: chaos. But in this panel when Etho connects with Doc, It's peaceful, It's not an agressive action - It's actually the opposite, It's a peaceful, desperate, last cry for help before Doc shuts Etho down

Now that's an interesting panel, I love Etho's talking being wavy, fading in and out, and all over the place - it's probably meant to represent his thoughts and it does a really good job with it! Every one of these sentences sound heartbreaking in context "I'm so scared" especially gets to me, for no reason actually, maybe because I'm surrounded by death lately irl and it just makes me think about those topics more- how terrifying it actually can be when you think about it

There's a lot of scenes in this panel, I noticed they are actually drawn in chronological order, they go from top left corner (Etho opening his eyes for the first time and seeing Doc and X) and go clockwise (to the panel of Bdubs' death in last life and Etho's hands shaking) get it? CLOCKwise because Bdubs really likes clo- *gets shot*

Also just wanted to point how CRAZY it is when you realise that the first thing Etho saw when he was created was Xisuma on his right and Doc standing on his left a little further away, and the last thing he sees before shutting down is almost the same scene but slightly different and more chaotic! That's some crazy detail-

also not that important detail but Doc started saying "Xisuma" in this panel but was cut off on the "Xis" part when he snapped back into his senses and decided to do something instead of just. standing there 🧍‍♂️

SO YEAH I'M SO SORRY RIP TO YOUR INBOX GHGHGHHGHGHJFSJDFS JMGJ THIS IS SO LONG

but uhhh I just needed to get it out it's been like 4 months since the last part so now I'm going feral 👍

There's probably a lot of things I wanted to say that I forgot here sooooooo Idk prepare for more i guess--

Anyways have a nice day Shep you're amazing <3!

RAHHHH thank you so much!!! THIS WAS A DELIGHT TO WAKE UP TO!!! I had too many thoughts so I just kinda doodled and rambled a bit :3 hope this is helpful!! And I absolutely LOVE these breakdowns, y’all are so very welcome to tear stuff apart whenever it’s kinda everything to me >:3 BUT YES IM SO GLAD YOU ARE GOING CRAZY!!! I’m so happy I finally get to share my insanity sfjbdfgkndbn

(Featuring a version of the interfacing page without all of the overlays so you can see everything clearly!)

[kiwisa]

name(s) of love ✩ cl16

Charles Leclerc x Fem! Girlfriend! Reader

fluff • smut(ish) • 1,500 words

IN WHICH... love takes on many forms and many names.

✩ “MON AMOUR…” in everyday life.

“Can you pass me the salt, mon amour?”

With one hand, the other stirring the sauce, Charles vaguely pointed to the location of the saltshaker, which you hastened to hand over. He murmured a distracted “thank you” and seasoned the meat before turning down the heat and covering the pan with the lid next to it.

You watched in silence as his shoulders tensed with every movement, the muscles of his arms drawn deliciously against his shirt. A strand of hair bounced on his forehead at each movement, wet from the steam of the pots on the hob. A scrunchie, one of yours, was pulling back his hair ⏤ which had been falling in front of his eyes ever since he began his task ⏤ into a ridiculously little ponytail.

After giving the sauce a final stir to let it reduce, Charles wiped his hands on his white “kiss the cook” apron ⏤ a gift you were very proud of.

“I love to watch you cook,” you said as you approached.

You let your hands graze his arms up to his shoulders and placed them on either side of his neck. It was impossible to resist the urge to kiss it. You pecked at every bit of skin, stopping at a few tender spots that your nights with him had revealed.

“Yeah?” he pulled you to him, careful not to bring you too close to the fire, and leaned his head back to give you more room. His hands gently tickled your ribs before moving down and squeezing your ass. He left them there, chastely, happy to receive so much attention.

“Hmm,” you nodded, far too busy loving on him to give him a real answer.

“I think you're far more interested in the food than me, mon amour.”

Oh, you'd devour him over any meal in this world.

✩ “MON COEUR…” when he’s tired.

“Mon coeur, come to bed,” Charles whined.

“One more chapter, honey, and I'm yours.”

Your eyes were beginning to burn, assaulted by the artificial light of the table lamp next to the couch. The dark night had long since darkened the sky. Despite the pain, the letters that ⏤ little by little ⏤ were becoming blurry, the sentences that only made sense if you read them twice, you couldn't bring yourself to close the book. You had started it three days ago, and as the last chapters were drawing nearer and nearer, you couldn't go to sleep without knowing the end of the story, without knowing if the protagonist would survive.

You knew it had been a trying day for Charles, as media day usually was: one interview after another, this time for magazines, and the many videos he had to shoot for various YouTube channels had dealt the final blow to his energy.

“You said that six chapters ago.”

A grimace pulled at your face. You immediately felt terrible, even more so when you saw him, at the entrance to the corridor, wrapped up in the quilt, his eyes reddened by fatigue, his hair in all directions. A painting as touching as heart-breaking. They were overworking him.

“Mon coeur, please,” he tried again.

His shiny green eyes were enough to make you give in. Morning and evening, he rejuvenated before your eyes when, around him, the arms of Morpheus imprisoned him. How could you resist his face?

Gently, you folded the corner of your page before placing the book on the coffee table. You couldn't take three steps before Charles wrapped you in the duvet, holding you tightly against him. Your eyes were blocked by the quilt and by his chest, so you did not see the dark look he gave your book, as if it was responsible for all his misfortunes.

He guided you to the bedroom like this, never letting go of you except to close the door. You could not hide your smile at his cuteness, which he took as mocking.

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I didn't say anything.”

He pushed you down on the bed, watching your body bounce on the mattress before dropping onto you. The weight of his body cut off your breathing for a moment but you said nothing, understanding what Charles was craving.

Contact.

His head nestled against your breasts; his eyelids closed at once. Your skin against his, he could forget the worries of the day. He could suddenly breathe with your heartbeat giving the tempo for his to follow. Your fingers slipping into his hair, smoothing them, anything to soothe him.

There was no sound to disturb this tender moment, except your breathing and perhaps ⏤ sometimes ⏤ the sound of a kiss dropped on his forehead.

You continued until his weight became heavier, a sign that he had fallen asleep.

“Goodnight, honey,” you murmured.

Very quietly, so as not to wake him, you picked up your phone. Immediately lowering the brightness, you clicked on the orange icon on your iPhone and, remembering the little number at the top right of the page, resumed reading your book, having bought it digitally.

As pretty as this boy was, you were not going to sleep without knowing the end.

✩ “MON ANGE…” when he’s sad.

Each sniffle broke your heart a little more, as your neck collected tear after tear. You tightened your grip on Charles's trembling body, trying to protect him from this world and its horrors. Seeing this joyous man who shared your life being tarnished by others drove you into a deep rage, one you kept secret.

It could wait.

The love of your life could not.

“It's going to be okay.”

You weren't sure. How could you control people's actions, their disrespect, and the power that anonymity gave them? Words hurt, even written on a phone screen.

Charles had walked in your Monte-Carlo flat in tears, after what should have been a fun night out with his mates. It had been hard to make out his words, cut off by heart-breaking sobs, but you got the gist of it: by showing a funny tweet about him, one of his friends had unintentionally confronted Charles with the hatred of bitter people who couldn't bear to see others succeed. His appearance, his behaviour, his driving. Everything had been a subject to criticize, but it was the third point that had been the coup de grâce; especially after the disappointing new car testing.

All it had taken was one comment to shatter into a million pieces what you had tried to keep intact.

“Mon ange, I–”

“It's okay,” you repeated, trying to convince him, and maybe you as well. “You don't have to talk if you don't want to.”

So, he didn't. You stood there, hugging in the middle of the living room, a few steps from the door that hid him from all his worries.

“I love you, mon ange,” he finally whispered.

“I love you too, my talented, beautiful, kind boyfriend.”

He managed to give you a shaky smile, which, if it bore the mark of deep sadness, reassured you somewhat. You stood on tiptoe and kissed him gently, as if to affirm your compliments, to anchor them on his mouth so that he, in turn, could believe them, say them.

It would take a little time to piece him back together, but you were nothing if not stubborn.

✩ “BÉBÉ…” when he’s in the mood.

“Bébé?”

Silence.

Charles straightened up a little more, his back against the headboard. He didn't take his eyes off your body, which was facing the opposite way. The moon had long since cast its bluish halo over the bed and was now illuminating your naked curves, which the white sheet did nothing to hide.

“Bébé?”

His fingertips brushed your knee, moved gently up your thighs – his pinkie sliding inwards more than necessary – and up your lower abdomen to your chest. Charles watched with delight as your body shivered at his touch, his heart beating furiously in his chest, temple, and crotch.

“Bébé?”

This time he shook you without delicacy, abruptly waking you from your deep sleep. You didn't like this one bit. Roughly pulling the quilt up to your neck, you buried yourself in it, ignoring the complaints of the man beside you. The masterpiece that was your body, now stolen from his dilated eyes.

Unacceptable, he thought.

His hand came to rest on your waist, squeezing it.

“What?” you asked aggressively, ready to sleep after an already eventful night. This man had far too much stamina for you. The still regular shaking of your legs was proof of that.

“I'm horny,” he whined.

“You're a fucking animal, Leclerc. That’s what you are.”

Your words may have had bite, but your thighs were already spreading for him to fit between them. Damn him and his stupidly beautiful, flushed face, and pouted lips.

Fucker.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.5 K Warnings: None Prompt: Who said potions class was meant to be boring? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 32: Come A Little Bit Closer

You groaned the second your alarm went off, placing a pillow over your eyes as you winced from the light being extremely harsh to your rather sensible senses. You checked the clock, you were pretty sure you had half threatened Sirius with making his life miserable through Moony last night and blinked a couple of times to force yourself awake. 

After checking the time one last time, trying to convince yourself that the clock said 4:30 instead of 5:30 so you could sleep another hour, only to realize it wasn’t, you raised yourself until you were sitting on your bed “fuck,” you whispered as you felt the ache on your legs and back. You had rolled yourself into a ball, and while initially, the pain had been drawn out by the stress of the water spirit and the euphoria from the party, it wasn’t anymore. Just when I had started to feel fine, you thought. 

You yawned and went to change, rolling your shoulders a couple of times, at least the shoulder wound was a lot better now, and the painkiller potion for that one would also help for the fall, which meant, by the time you were ready, and the meds had kicked in you felt a lot better, except for the fact that you were half tempted to wear a pair of sunglasses even if it was cloudy outside. When you walked down, Sirius and James were already there. 

Sirius gave you a look, taking in your demeanour in an instant and smirking, “You sure you still want to fly, Vix?” 

You gave him a look and huffed, “Very.” 

He chuckled as he walked towards you and placed his arm around your shoulder, “If you say so then.” 

James, who had no idea you had threatened Pads but had gotten a threat of his own in the morning from Sirius, to not go hard on you because of the fall –that he still had to speak his mind to you about– was a little confused with the interaction, but decided that it was probably something to do with being in a relationship. And since he had barely gotten Lily to go on one date with him, he really wouldn’t know. 

Once you got to the pitch Sirius pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and opened it, handing it over to you, “Memorise this.” 

You frowned, trying to figure out why Sirius would give you a notebook, but then you read some of the words and understood, it was the counterspell he had mentioned the previous night. You smiled, at how neatly he had written it down, at how he’d separated his cursive more than normal and paid attention to adding the extra dots and lines he sometimes left out.

Sirius had written it for you, and he wanted you to pay attention so he had been extra careful with it. And you, being as naturally curious as a fox, decided to snoop around the notebook a little more. There were a few silly doodles and for a minute you worried that he had given you his sketchbook, but it was definitely not it, that one was a little wider, and the cover was black, this one, on the other hand, had a wine red cover, a very Gryffindor notebook. 

There were lists of songs, with names for mixtapes at the top on some pages, and a few movies some muggle friends had recommended, including some you and Remus had told him about. On some of the pages you spotted your name written on the edges, and you smiled, you didn’t know boys did that too. 

“You done?” He asked as he turned to you, he had been pulling out some stuff from the shed with James. You quickly changed the page to the one you had to be on and smiled. 

“Almost,” you said before trying to fully focus on the page and the words. They weren’t tricky, in fact, it was kind of a combination of protection spells you already knew, but it was rather long. His thick and delicate handwriting occupies the entire page and then some of the next one. 

After a few more minutes you took a deep breath and nodded “I think I’m ready.” 

“Good,” Sirius said, “Take your broom and hover for a bit.” You did as told. “Not so high silly, what if you fall?” he asked as he saw you float a few feet above his head. 

“I won’t fall,” you said confidently. 

“Vix, lower,” James said rather sternly, it was his captain’s voice. You were a little angry at his demanding tone but after a huff, you did as told. They were right anyway, you weren’t looking forward to falling again. You had enough bruising and soreness for the rest of the fucking year. Scratch that, for the rest of this one and the next one, you only had like thirty days left of 1976 anyway.

“Ready?” Sirius asked, you nodded. And then he started mumbling something, at first, there was nothing, you just continued hoovering peacefully, but then you felt it, a soft yank to the side. Slowly the movements got worse and worse and you felt like you were on a mechanical bull. Sirius looked at you concentrated, a small frown on his soft features as he did. Like he didn’t want to push too hard, but he knew whoever kept trying to push you off your broom –Barty– wouldn’t be merciful so he pushed on.  

That’s when you started muttering the counterspell, tightening your grip on the handle and focusing your magic on your palms, letting it flow through your body and onto the item that was being jinxed. It wasn’t easy, wandless magic always held a small degree of complication, especially the more advanced it was, and counterspells were no easy feat. 

Eventually, you lost the battle and ended up on the floor. Sirius rushed to help but you shook your head, raising your hand to indicate that he stayed in place, and then took a deep breath, “Again.”

“But…” 

“Again,” you insisted “I have to master this one,” you added as you mounted your broom and nodded for Sirius to start again. James was watching attentively and allowed it to continue. Even after you fell over the second time, gritting your teeth and whispering “again.” 

After a couple more times, it was James the one that stepped in. “How about we call it for today and continue trying tomorrow?” he suggested. You had just fallen from your broom and were sitting on the floor looking impossibly tired. 

“But the spell…” 

“James is right, we can practise more tomorrow, we’re not playing until next year anyway, we’ve got enough time to master it.” 

You sighed but nodded, not even attempting to move from the floor for a bit while James and Sirius batted the bludger over each other a couple of times. You took Sirius’ notebook out of your pocket and went over the spell again, recalling if perhaps you had missed some words on the incantation or maybe it was the execution that wasn’t working properly. So you went over the words, reading them in your head and practising the spell as many times as you could. 

“Hey Vix, let that go and come over, I need you to practise this,” James said when he noticed your overly concentrated stance. 

It took you a second to pull your gaze from the paper but you nodded, feeling thankful that you’d get a distraction and then guilty for feeling thankful over it. Either way you pocketed the notebook, grabbed one of the beater bats and mounted your broom, flying towards them. After a while of beating the iron ball with as much force as you could muster, and using exclusively your good arm, you felt a lot better. 

When you were done, you helped the boys with the equipment and walked alongside them all the way to the common room, where you parted ways to change into your respective uniforms. The entire day went by rather uneventfully, McGonagall had paired you with Remus on the transfiguration project and you were still going over crystal ball reading on divinations, although a bit boring, at least it was something you hadn’t any particular talents with. 

Although, and you didn’t want to think much about it, there was definitely something dark surrounding the Ravenclaw tower. You decided that maybe you’d ask Sybil about it later, she had been taking extra classes with Spellman, so she’d probably know if something was up. You considered asking Spellman directly, but you were scared he’d end up blowing it off proportion and decided to just pretend you had seen a field with colourful flowers. 

“What colour?” 

“All the colours,” you said, knowing that if you said a particular one he might end up finding a deeper meaning behind your lie. 

November 30th, 1976 

The following day, you also woke up in time for morning practice, this time around you managed to stay on the broom for longer, but fell either way, and James didn’t allow you to practise as much as the previous day since he wanted to focus on dodging that morning, which had ended up on a very fun practice. 

Sirius had almost gotten a bludger in the shoulder before you pulled him to the side and James barely managed to dodge one that had flown straight to his head. You were all laughing merrily by the time you were meant to go back to the dorms for breakfast. 

Once you reached the common room you spotted Remus on one of the couches and plopped beside him, Sirius doing the same on the other side. “Ugh, you’re both sweaty,” he complained. 

You pouted, “It’s magically cleaned,” you said dismissively as you sank a little deeper, neither you nor Sirius were actually sweaty since outside was so freezing cold. Well, perhaps just slightly. And Remus wasn’t bothered by you sitting next to him either, if anything, he loved it, he had to keep up appearances regardless. 

“The couch is, I’m not!” 

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder, “Aww come on Moony, you’ll smell like your two favourite people all day. What’s there to complain about?” 

Remus almost pushed the boy off him when Prongs intervened, “What do you mean his two favourite people, where does that leave me?” 

Remus frowned at James, clearly interested in where the conversation was going, but it was Sirius who spoke, “On the armchair.”  

James gasped, “Yeah, I don’t think you’d fit in here,” you teased further, a tiny smile spreading on your lips while you pointed at the little space of couch there was left. Now, if you and Sirius had been sitting like normal people, and Remus hadn’t had his legs spread wide, perhaps you could’ve found a way to fit Prongs in, but none of you seemed interested in changing position. 

“I refuse to be left out!” he said with a frown. 

“So what? You’ll use engorgio on the couch?” 

“Too much trouble,” James said as he walked towards you and let himself fall on top of the three as if laying on the couch but using your legs instead. 

“Oi, watch where that elbow goes,” Sirius complained. 

“When was the last time you washed those?” you said with a frown as you stared at his murky-looking socks. 

“They get washed every day!” James complained, “That’s their original colour.” 

“No way in hell.” 

“No,” Remus said as he shook his head. “that really is their original colour, we’ve been teasing him about them since he got them.” 

You leaned over to look at James’ face, it was lying on top of Sirius’ legs “Why did you keep them?” 

James went red, and Sirius responded, “Lily gave them to him, last Christmas I believe.” 

“Yeah,” James said proudly. “They arrived at my house by owl mail. She even wrote a note that said they reminded her of me.” 

You threw a side glance at Remus, clearly seeing the irony in Lily’s note, that seemed to completely slip past James, back then and even now. 

“We’ve got potions,” you sighed, leaning back just a little and allowing James to accommodate his feet better. They were a bit heavy, but at least they weren’t crashing against any bruises. 

“Thought you liked potions,” Sirius said. 

“I like hanging out with Rem at potions, but the potion we’re working on is so tedious I swear you need to add another gram of something new every couple of minutes.” 

“At least it hasn’t blown up on your face,” James said with a shrug, remembering the way it had exploded on Tom the previous class, and Tom was actually good at potions. Thought, perhaps he had been a little distracted that day.

“We could skip…” Sirius offered. 

“No, we can’t!” Remus said, “She’s lost enough classes with last week’s drama!” He then turned to you. “And don’t you dare leave me alone with the veritaserum!” 

You took a deep breath and nodded “I wasn’t thinking of skipping,” you defended. “I was merely informing.” 

“James Fleamont Potter!” You heard Lily’s reprimanding voice from the stairs. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

James seemed a little confused, leaning up just a little to try and spot the redhead, “uh… Resting?” 

“On top of your two freshly injured friends?!” 

Both you and Remus started a chorus of “I’m fine” and “Oh… It’s okay Lily, I’m healed now, it doesn’t hurt anymore” but she took none of it. Walking all the way to the couch and forcing James to roll off of it. He fell on the floor and turned, looking at the kneeling figure with his charming little smile, like she was the only witch in the world. 

You could tell Lily was fazed by it, especially when a little bit of red started to spread over her cheeks, you smiled, raising an eyebrow towards Remus who clearly had noticed too. 

“Enough of that!” She told him with a slap on the arm. “Let’s get some breakfast, you must all be starving.” 

“I second that,” you said with a nod. 

“Yeah, me too,” Remus agreed. 

“Hungry beasts, that’s the kind of people I surround myself with,” Sirius joked. 

“If anyone’s a hungry beast here Sirius…” you started and threw him a look that had him gasp “Anyway… breakfast.” 

All of you stood up and started walking towards the Great Hall, Peter was fast to catch up with you and Lily told you the girls were already there. Breakfast was as delicious as always, and you were so hungry you even took an extra slice of toast with jam and peanut butter to munch on on your way to potions. 

“Pass me the Stewed Mandrake Root, would you? Sweetheart?” Remus asked as he stared at the cauldron with a bit of a frown.

“We’ve already added that,” you responded, leaning forward to look as well, the potion was a weird murky brown colour, not the mossy green that the book described it would be. “Did we measure wrong?” 

“Maybe we spun it the wrong way around?” Remus said, just as puzzled as you, “You measured that one, you never measure wrong.”  

“Yeah, I checked twice,” you agreed, that was something you had learned from Remus near the beginning of the year. And you were especially careful with longer and more tedious potions like this one. 

You saw Snape snigger from the side as he stared at your cauldron, and you were about to flip him off with two fingers when Remus placed a hand over your forearm and gave you a look. You gave him a reproachful stare in response but he just raised an eyebrow at you and tilted his head a little. You huffed in response but held back the insults you had in store for Snivelus. You understood why Remus did it, getting in petty fights with the Slytherins had already gotten you almost killed once.  

You sighed and went back to look at your potion, suddenly remembering, “There’s a troubleshooting guide at the end of each chapter, perhaps we can find something there?” you suggested and the two of you went straight to look through the book. 

“I think… the only thing that could’ve happened is someone sabotaging the potion…” Remus said with a frown, “If we had added too much of any ingredient the result would be different colours. It would be red with too much Mandrake root, blue if we had undercooked the Syrup of Hellebore, and purple if it were because of the Bicorn Horn powder, but none of these mention brown.” 

You bit your lip as you analysed the situation and looked around, if someone had actually sabotaged your potion, you’d have to figure out exactly what they had used to do it, to attempt and revert it, if it was even possible.

You started looking at people’s tables and the ingredients they had placed on them, Alison Prewet and Archie McMillan had a few ingredients that didn’t go in the recipe but neither of them was particularly good at potions so you couldn’t be sure it had been them.

Tim Klum also had some suspicious-looking ingredients, but by his nervous stance and recent rash, you assumed he was trying to brew something to counter it instead of sabotaging anyone else. Besides, you had barely crossed words with him, and you were certain he didn’t have anything against Remus, regardless you wrote down all the ingredients he had on his stable, identifying them by texture and looks. 

Then you spotted something mysterious by Sirius’ table. Of course, Sirius would never sabotage you or Rem, but Severus? You wouldn’t put it past him, he could be a jealous little snake, although he had never done such a thing, and you weren’t sure why he would be sabotaging you now, the fact that he had Shivelfig, which was normally used for draught of living dеath made no sense. Unless he wanted to steal it for himself that is. 

You turned to Remus “I have a hunch of who might have done it,” you mumbled, almost inaudibly, but he heard, and you knew he’d be able to hear it. He gave you an attentive look, “But I want to test my theory before we make a mistake.” 

“What do you need?” 

“Just a bit of someone else’s potion, that’s at the same stage as ours.” 

Remus nodded, “I can do that, you?” 

“I’ll get some Shivelfig.” 

Both you and Remus nodded as you looked attentively at the other, he grabbed a small vial and started walking towards James and Lilly while you walked towards Sirius’ table. 

“Hi Pups,” you said with a smile. 

“Sod off,” Snape said when he spotted you. 

“You do it.” 

“This is my table.” 

“Argh, c'est un idiot, comment tu le supportes?” You asked, looking at your boyfriend.

“I’m intelligent enough to know you’re calling me an idiot,” Severus said impassively.

"Très bien, casse-toi alors."

Sirius laughed at your crassness and Severus just rolled his eyes, not understanding what you said but figuring out you were either telling him to fuck off or piss off, which wasn’t that far from the real thing. “How come you’ve come to visit, Kit?” Sirius asked. 

“Missed you,” you said simply, Sirius saw the mischievous smile you gave him and knew instantly you were up to something. 

“Aww, you did?” he asked as he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you slightly closer to him, Slughorn was near the back of the classroom helping some Slytherins with a fire they had accidentally caused, which was enough distraction for you to be able to be all over Sirius at that moment. 

“Oh, please, I’m going to puke…” Severus said as he rolled his eyes and turned to the side. 

You forced yourself to hold back a laugh, Sirius, whose back was turned to Severus, and who had the least serious face you’d ever seen, wasn’t helping. “Devrions-nous lui donner un spectacle?” You asked in a low voice, trying to make it sound like you were flirting rather than just asking Sirius if you should annoy Severus further. 

Sirius bit his lip, looking at you with a small frown before nodding, “Mh-hum,” he replied before leaning in to give you a kiss. 

“Ugh please, we’re in class!”

“Go be jealous elsewhere, Snivelus,” Sirius pulled himself from the kiss just for a second to say that, going back and deepening the kiss a second after. Severus looked at the two of you in disbelief and then back at Slughorn, but he was way too busy with the fire in the back. Who would have thought adding a little bit of dragon breath to the potion would cause such a complicated mess? 

You deepened the kiss, pushing Sirius back just a little and his back crashed against Snape’s shoulder, Snape pushed back and Sirius had to tighten his grip on you so you wouldn’t fall. You could feel he was about to laugh because of Severus’ reaction and you squeezed his arm just a little to get him to focus and he did, even let out a small, rather performative grunt, just to piss Severus further. 

Severus was about ready to go get the teacher, or a prefect, or someone to get you to stop snogging in front of his face when you leaned in again, this time pushing Sirius’ arm strategically so it pushed their leftover Syrup of Hellebore, it wouldn’t do any harm to him since it had been cooked, but it would make his uniform stink after a couple of hours, and you knew he knew about it. 

“Ugh!” he complained, “You pair of dimwitted animals!” 

You pulled back from the kiss, just to give him a side glance, looking only mildly apologetic “Oops, sorry…” 

Snape gave you a disgusted glance and stood up. “I’m off to clean this up, Black,” he glared at the boy, Sirius turned to him with an uninterested glance. “Please, for the sake of our passing grade, make sure our potion stays boiling at a steady temperature while I’m gone.” 

“Sure Snivelus, I’ll make sure,” Sirius said with a rather indifferent shrug just to piss Severus off a bit more. Severus gave him an untrustful glance, but stood up and left. While he was leaving you went back to kissing, which seemed to piss Severus off even further, which made both you and Sirius smile in the kiss, you were half still kissing, half using each other’s mouths to hold back a laugh. 

When you finally stopped, Sirius was biting his lip to hold back a grin while you were looking at him with lips pursed, still trying to hold back a laugh. 

Sirius cleared his throat “Now that the crow’s gone, would you care telling me why you’re really here?” 

“What? Kissing you passionately in the middle of class is no good excuse?” 

Sirius raised his eyebrow “Oh no, I think it’s an excellent excuse, but I’m waaay more likely to use it than you are.” 

You gave him a small smile, “I think Severus might have sabotaged my potion,” you admitted, “and I think he used this,” you took a hold of the jar with Shivelfig , “to do it.” 

“We should ruin his potion then,” Sirius said instantly. You gave him a look, he raised an eyebrow “What?” 

“Sirius, he’s your partner. If we ruin his potion…” 

Sirius frowned, “Well, it’s not fair if he gets out scot-free.” 

“Remus and I are trying to fix it.” 

“And you can do it?” 

You shrugged, “If he really did use shivelfig, we could try and find a way to counter its effect, or at least neutralise it.” 

“So you came to get some.” 

You nodded, “The kisses were a great bonus though.” 

“I can give you many more bonuses, darling,” he said and leaned in again, but you felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around to see who was there, thankfully, it wasn’t Slughorn.  

“You got that?” Remus asked. 

“Yeah,” you said as you pulled a small flask with shivelfig from your cloak.

“Hold up! When did you even…?” Sirius asked, confused. 

“I’m a girl of many talents,” you told him with a wink. “See you around, Puppy!” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and walked back to your table alongside Remus. “You got the potion?” You asked Remus, who seemed tense for some reason. He had seen the whole thing happen, and his head had started going haywire with so many thoughts running through his head.

“Yeah,” he responded, “James and Lily.” 

Once you were both on your table, he poured half of his little flask on a crystal vase and you used a pair of tweezers to add the tiniest bit of shivelfig to the potion. Nothing happened and you frowned. “Maybe it wasn’t Snivelus in the end…” 

“No wait,” Remus said, placing a hand on your forearm and taking a small stick, sipping it in the flask and turning clockwise three times, the potion turned the same murky brown as yours in an instant. 

“Remus, that’s brilliant!” you said with a smile “The potion didn’t go brown until we spun it, and Severus probably knew, he could have added the shivelfig a while ago, that way we wouldn’t have noticed, and we would have just assumed we did something wrong.” 

Remus nodded, “He’s an asshole, but he’s a competent one.” 

“So now we know what he used, how do we neutralise it?”

“I’m not sure,” Remus said as he bit his lip. 

“Sopophorous bean?” you asked. “Isn’t it used on draught of living dеath to neutralise the shivelfig’s poisonous nature?” 

Remus shook his head “Yeah, but combined with Mandrake Root it can be dеadly, our veritaserum would end up being Baneberry Potion instead.” 

“Shit, you’re right,” you said almost in a whisper. You frowned, racking your brain trying to find a solution only for it to clash against the rest of the ingredients. Your face started to fall when you started running out of ideas. No matter how much you thought about it, it seemed like there was no solution, which left you dejected since even if you had figured out exactly how they had sabotaged you, you wouldn’t be able to fix it.

“I might have an idea,” Remus said then, he had the same face he made when he was focused on a task, preparing a complicated potion or working on the details of a plan, it was that of absolute concentration. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his lips pressed tightly against the other, causing one of his scars to move along with his mouth. He looked cute. 

“Wait… really? How?”

“I’ll go get some Moonstone… Do you have the charms book with you?” He asked. 

“We… don’t have charms today…” you said. You used to carry it around all the time but after your shoulder wound carrying as little as possible was a lot more manageable, even with the floating spell you had placed on your bag. 

“It’s fine, it’s somewhere in my bag, look for it, will you? Find the magnetism spell.”  

“The magnetism…” you started with a slightly questioning look and then gasped. “Remus, that’s… has it even been tested before?”

Remus shrugged in response, “It’s either that or we do it over. Besides, we could test it with this,” he said as he pointed at the little vial that you had used to see if it really had been shivelfig what they had used to ruin your potion. He then leaned down and placed his bag –that he had carelessly thrown on the floor– on the table right in front of you. “Just be careful, there’s an extending spell inside so I can keep all my stuff. Might take you a while to find it,” he added right before he walked towards the ingredients cabinet. 

He hadn’t been exaggerating, his bag was absolutely filled with things. You dug inside and could feel several books, you pulled them out, one by one, he had some books for classes, some library books that had gone overdue, the copy of The Godfather he had been reading you and Sirius, the copy you had given him of The Portrait of Dorian Grey when you discovered he was a Werewolf. 

You’d told him he could keep it one time he mentioned he wanted to get a copy to annotate, which made you wonder if he had annotated the sides and you opened it, you had written some notes on the pages, notes he hadn’t erased, writing around the edges and under your own handwriting. And on ink, it was absolutely clear who had written what, and he’d even responded to some of the things you had annotated. You smiled, you’d have to ask him to borrow it to you one day, just so you could see what he wrote. 

As you flipped the pages, something called your attention. Sirius’ name was written on one of the corners of the book, you frowned and looked at the page, there were a few highlighted quotes here and there, but there was something about Sybil calling Dorian prince charming and you chuckled. Yeah, you too would have considered Sirius a Prince Charming. You closed the book and placed it back on his bag, completely missing how Sirius’ name repeated over and over through the pages, how your name was doodled alongside his too. 

How in one of the quotes from Basil, he had pointed out that Basil was just like him, fallen in love with the impossible, but that Basil had been lucky enough to only find one of those people rather than two, how miserable would Basil be if he had loved not only Dorian, but Sybil too? Perhaps half as miserable as Remus felt sometimes. 

You continued to rummage through Remus’ bag, and you felt a small plastic bag, you assumed it was chocolate and took a hold of some of them out to ask him for one when he came back, you knew he would say yes anyway, but when you pulled your hand out, you were met with a strip of condoms instead.  You quickly put them back in, trying not to think of the fact that they were size L or the fact that he had so many of them. Does he not know about the potion? No, he definitely knows about the potion, I mentioned it at the Quidditch party. You swallowed thickly, you were sure you had flushed at least a little when you felt a hand on your back. 

“You found it?” Remus asked. You were startled, and had to cough a couple of times to compose, Remus felt a lot taller to you at that minute, as if the size of the… nevermind, erase that thought, erase that thought. 

“No, I– you keep a lot of stuff in your bag, Rem.”

“You didn’t find anything weird, did you?” 

“Weird?!” you were sure your voice had gone an octave higher by that point. “No,” you coughed again, “Nothing.”

He looked at you as if he wasn’t convinced, “Cause if you did it was probably Sirius’ he leaves a lot of stuff in my bag.” 

The idea of them being Sirius’ instead of Remus’ made you gulp, you were sure your cheeks would warm if you didn’t change the subject immediately, so that’s exactly what you did, “Found the moonstone?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “back pocket,” he added as he dug his hand through his bag, “On the left, my left,” he added then, “where you’re standing.” 

“Oi! I know where the left is!” you argued as you went for it. 

“You didn’t know last time.” 

“Though we settled on the fact that I just wanted to grab your ass.” 

He chuckled, “You really can’t lose, can you?”

“I jumped off my broom to get the snitch, what did you expect?” 

Finally, he pulled out the book, one of the condoms falling on the floor. He looked at it, and then at you, you were also looking at it “That’s…” 

“I know what that is,” you said. “Spent last summer on muggle London, remember?” It had been pretty hard to forget the safe sex campaigns all over the bus stops near the biggest schools as you walked past them. And of course you, being naturally curious, had gone and read all the details they offered. At least you had learned a few things in the end.  

“Alice gave them to me,” he said as he leaned down and grabbed it, placing it back in his bag as fast as possible. 

Remus seemed genuinely flustered about it, which is why you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him. “Oh, so you’re definitely having fun,” you said with a teasing smile. 

“What?! That’s–” 

“Hey! I don’t judge,” you added with a shrug, “I told you when I found your stash.” 

“That wasn’t–” 

“It’s fine Rem,” you said as you placed a hand on his arm. “You deserve to relax every now and then, if anything, you should use them up before they go bad… Although you do know the potion exists, right?” 

“Please stop,” Remus said as he placed both hands over his face and leaned down on the table. He was flustered over you insinuating such things, more because he always thought about you when he did them with Alice than because you insisted on teasing him about her. If only you knew, heck, you would probably break off your friendship with him. As if anything Remus did would make that happen. 

You only laughed and placed a hand on his back “All right big boy,” you didn’t say that on purpose, but it did make you think back on the size of the… no. “Back to the potion…”

“Yes,” Remus stood, the flush on his cheeks fading away slightly. Although the bits of red still made him look adorable, you almost wanted to get a picture of it. And then you wondered what he would look like if he were looking at a person he liked, little did you know that was exactly what he was doing. 

All the while, Remus was flipping through the pages. “Here!” he said and pointed at the page, leaning closer to you so you could see the book, “So… the idea is to use the spell on the moonstone, but somehow make it attract just the shivelfig.”

“We could do it by combining it with a locating spell?” 

“It was my idea too, but… how?”

“Hold up,” you said as you pulled a parchment from your bag, he pulled the quill closer to your hand and you dipped it in some ink before drawing some runes inside a small triangle. It looked a lot like what the muggles thought whichcraft looked like, and it was a little archaic, inexperienced wizards would say it was dark arts -it wasn’t- and regardless, it was still the easiest way to combine spells. 

“Are you drawing a Nimueh diagram?” 

You nodded, and he stared as you continued to add symbols and runes and lines around your paper. Once it was done you placed the stone on top. “You’re better with location spells, how about you say that one and I go for the magnetism one?” 

“Have you ever done it?” 

You shook your head “But I haven’t done a location spell either, you have,” you added with a shrug. 

“Okay, let’s do this,” Remus said with a nod and offered his hand. You gently placed your hand over his and gave it a soft squeeze. “In three… two… one…” 

Little did you know that while you chanted the spell, and almost with the whole previous interaction, Sirius had been looking at the two of you with absolute fascination. At the incredible team you made, at how cute Remus looked flushed and at how much fun you seemed to have around him, teasing him.  It was in those genuine, carefree smiles that you managed to pull out of his best friend, your best friend too, he remembered. It was in the chuckles he pulled out of you, in the way you moved around the table to get the ingredients, in the way you grabbed your parchment and he passed you a quill. 

Sirius was so enthralled by the two of you that he didn’t notice Severus returning to his sit right next to him, “I told you to check on the potion you stu-” 

Sirius turned around to look at the boy, annoyed. “The potion’s fine,” he said carelessly. “No one messed around with it while you were gone. Vix would never stump as low as that.” He said that last bit with venom, looking straight at Severus who narrowed his eyes. There was no way Sirius could’ve known, and yet…

“Do you think it’ll work?” You asked Remus, you had just finished chanting the spells, your hands sliding off each other a little too fast for his taste and the moonstone -that shone as you infused it with magic- seemed to be slowly fading into its natural state. 

“There’s only one way to know,” Remus said as he took the small milky stone and dropped it straight onto your cauldron. You peered in, and slowly, the murky water took back the mossy green colour it should have had initially. Both you and Remus smiled relieved. 

“You did it!” you said almost jumping in joy, placing your hand over his arm and squeezing lightly, “You’re absolutely fantastic!” 

 Remus turned to you, his expression mirroring your own, “We did it,” he remarked “It was a team effort, you guessed what they’d used to sabotage us.” 

You were both smiling brightly at each other when Professor Slughorn approached the two of you, “Are you finished with your potion?” he asked, “You seem rather thrilled.”  

“We had a bit of a setback,” you admitted, “but we’ve managed to fix it, the veritaserum should be finished before the class.” 

“A setback? Of what kind?” 

“We got sabotaged, Professor,” Remus explained. 

“Outrageous! Who would dare do such a thing, to such brilliant students?” 

You were about to speak but Remus intervened “We do not know, but (Y/N) managed to figure out what they had used shivelfig, we used the knowledge for a spell on the moonstone and magnetised the unrequired ingredient to it.” 

You gave Remus a look but decided to follow along, whatever reason he had not to rat Snape out, must have been good. You used your wand to pull the moonstone out of your cauldron, it was no longer white and seemed to be covered with a murky slippery substance. The shivelfig clearly had reacted with some of the other ingredients. You levitated it closer to your face to give it a look before letting it fall back down on the table. 

“And you used a Nimueh diagram so that the shivelfig would adhere to the moonstone, clever!” He said as he pulled out the paper from the table and inspected it. He could see it was your handwriting, which is why he looked at you when he said it.

“Thank you, sir,” you responded, “But it was a team effort.” 

He turned back to Remus as if just remembering he was there too, you narrowed your eyes at him, “Of course, of course,” he said dismissively, which pissed you off a little bit too much. “Please stay after class is over, I need to have a word with you.” 

You looked at him, frown deepening but nodded. “Of course, Professor.” 

“Excellent, so.. get on with it. I want to see how your potion comes out in the end,” And with that, he was gone, off to talk to some other students. 

“The hell was he going on about?” 

“It’s probably about the slug party,” Remus said with a shrug. 

“The what?” 

“His exclusive Christmas dinner, he only invites the best students.” 

“You must have gone several times then,” you concluded. 

Remus tensed, “No. Never been invited.” 

You turned to him with a frown, “What but that doesn’t–”

 You were cut off by James, “You done, kids?” 

“Almost,” Remus said, you passed him the last ingredient you had to measure and he placed it on the cauldron, stirring the potion three times to the right, finally the colour was transparent. 

“You think it worked?” 

You shrugged, “Only one way to find out,” you said as you grabbed a pipette, dipping it in the liquid and placing your finger on the hole at the top, moving it to your mouth and releasing your finger, allowing just a drop to fall on your mouth. You didn’t want the effect to last overly long. “Go on then, ask me something.” 

“How many fingers do I have up?” James asked, raising his hand. 

“Six,” you responded, “that was a stupid question, Prongs.” 

James gasped at your reply “Rude.” 

“What did you get on your transfiguration mock quiz?” Remus asked with a teasing smirk.

You groaned, not wanting to respond to this one. “I got a Dreadful,” you said, despite yourself.

“Wait, really?! Is that why you wouldn’t show it to me?” James asked as he leaned a little closer to the two of you.

You nodded, “I couldn��t transform the pot into a swan, I made something close to a chicken.” 

“Close to a chicken?” James pressed.

“That was actually a dreadful animal,” you replied, trying to find a bit of humour in the situation. 

“Well, our trickery worked, the potion’s great,” Remus said pleased as he pulled out a vial to place it in and hand it over to be graded. Pulling out a tag he had previously prepared and lacing some string on it to attach it to the top of the potion. It had “Veritasetum” and then both of your names at the bottom. All in a perfectly elegant-looking handwriting, he’d used caligraphicus to make it extra neat. He always did like the way your names looked beside each other. 

You pulled a flask from your bag and also served some inside. “In case it comes in handy,” you told the boys, who both looked at you with rather impressed expressions as you placed it back inside your bag, now filled. 

Lily called for James and it was you and Remus alone again, he leaned over, you might be pissed after what he was about to do, “Hey little witch,” he said softly. You were cleaning things around but turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. “Are you really not scared of me?” 

You gave him a look, something between a frown and a comprehensive sigh. You took the pipette and let a few other drops fall in your mouth, more than you had done initially, “In case you thought that perhaps it had already worn off,” you said. “And no, Remus, I’m not scared of you, or Moony for that matter.” The boy seemed apprehensive, “Must I drink the entire cauldron for you to believe me?” 

Remus sighed, a relieved chuckle escaped from his mouth. He knew you weren’t, you had been reassuring enough at the infirmary when you cuddled him as Vixen, but he needed to make sure. To make sure you weren’t lying just for his sake like he had discussed with Sirius the night before the prank. He smiled, diverted and decided to tease further, “So you definitely still want to be friends?” 

You smiled. “Best friends,” you replied, “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.” 

“I have, it didn’t work, remember?” You hummed in response. And then he looked at your shoulder, biting his lip, the next question might actually piss you off, “Does it still hurt?” 

You thought your answer through, “Less than before,” you replied eventually, it was true.

“But it does hurt.” 

“Yes.”

“How much?” 

You looked at the side, not wanting to answer, closing your eyes and sighing when you realised you wouldn’t be able to hold back. “I don’t know, like getting clawed at by a huge wolf, I suppose?” 

“Do you resent me?” 

You frowned. “Of course not! And I don’t resent Moony either, before you ask,” you said that last bit with an accusing finger towards him.

“And the fall?” 

“More scary than painful.” 

“Scarier than me?” 

“You’re not scary!” You turned to him. 

“Scarier than Moony?” he corrected. 

“Yes.” There was silence. “The water monster… it was… nothing like Moony, frightening, hungry, unreasonable. Moony’s different, he– you are beautiful.” 

There it was again, you calling him beautiful, you kept doing that over and over, and he thought it was just your protective nature, you wanting him to feel better about it, but with veritaserum, it was impossible to lie. Remus cleared his throat, looking to the side as he felt a flush going up his neck and you smiled, pushing him just a little. “Now stop asking me questions that make me sound all sappy!” 

“Does it bother you?” 

“Does it bother you?” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“Told you to stop making me sound sappy, how would you feel I had you drink some and ask you questions?” 

“I never had you drink anything!” he replied, offended. 

“Right, you only took advantage of the fact that I had drunk it to ask your silly questions.” 

“They were legitimate.” 

“Most of them I had already answered Remus.” 

“Only half answered,” he corrected. “You’ve said time and time again that you were fine.” 

“I AM fine!” And that was true, again, you couldn’t lie. Did everything hurt? Yes. But other than that, other than the pain, other than the soreness, you were perfectly fine. 

“And you truly believe it,” Remus said, surprised. 

You smiled and pushed him again “No more questions,” you warned with a smile on your face. 

“And here I was thinking of asking you if Sirius was good in bed,” Remus joked.

“I wouldn’t know,” you said before you could stop yourself. 

Remus looked at you surprised, “You mean you haven’t–” 

“That’s none of your business Moony,” you said as you started to flush. “We said no more questions.”

“Oh, but you’re always teasing me about things like this,” he said as he poked your arm with a sneaky little smile. “So you really never have?” 

“Remus!” You reprimanded again and then sighed. “No, have not. We haven’t gotten there yet, okay? We’ve been busy with other things, if you can tell. Now do I have to go into details for you to stop it or…” 

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.” 

You huffed, “you’re too curious for your own good.” 

You were right in more than one way. “If that isn't the cauldron calling the kettle black.” 

You smiled and shoved him to the side again, he enjoyed the feeling of your hand on his shoulder, he was wondering how much he could tease you before you actually got pissed at him when the bell rang. 

“I’ll take this to him and see what he wants,” you said as you grabbed the potion you’d finished. 

“I’ll tell Nightshade why you’re going to be late,” he said as he placed the rest of his books in his bag, “I’ll take your bag too,” he said as he picked it up from the floor.

You frowned, “I can take my own bag, Moony.” 

“I know, but it still hurts, doesn’t it?” he asked as he pointed at your shoulder. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, he knew you’d have to tell him the truth still, you had taken more drops than you needed, you huffed out a “Yes” as you rolled your eyes, “But I’m perfectly capable of–” 

“I know, and I don’t care,” he interrupted as he slung your bag on his shoulder. “I made that,” he said as he pointed at your shoulder, “Now I carry your bag.” 

You scoffed, now diverted at your friend’s resolution more than anything, you were about to say something when Sirius shouted from the door, “You coming Moons, Starshine?” 

“You fill him up, yeah?” You asked Remus just before you gave Sirius a wink, he blew you a flirty kiss in response. 

Remus nodded when you turned back to him, and you gave up on fighting for your bag, after one last sight. “See you in class,” you told him with a wave and walked straight to talk to Slughorn, potion in hand.

“You’ve demonstrated to be a remarkable student the few months that you have been here darling.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“And not only in potions, you were brilliant at the Quidditch game and I’ve heard good things from Professor Bins and Seraphina. Flitwick also speaks highly of you.” 

You tilted your head slightly, a small “hum” escaping your lips, you were sure  Slughorn wasn’t done with whatever he was about to say. 

“And you’ve demonstrated time and time again to me that you are more than well-trained on potions.” 

“It’s only been thanks to my pairing with Remus.” 

“Ah… yes, your pairing with Mr. Lupin,” he said. “The way you switched the papers was undoubtedly clever.” 

You gasped, “You realised?” 

He just smiled, as if it had been obvious, “I picked the partners for everyone, of course, I knew. I just wasn’t sure how you’d managed to outmagic my spell. All at Potter’s request, I believe. He must have convinced you, that boy has been madly in love with Miss Evans for a while now.” 

“But you didn’t say anything then.” 

“If you had been smart enough to switch my charms, I assumed you’d be able to cope with Remus’ speed at potion making.” 

“So you know he’s good.” 

“Of course, Remus has always been remarkable.” 

“Then why has he never been invited to the–” 

“So you know why you’re here.” 

“He might have mentioned something like a Christmas dinner.” 

Slughorn nodded, “Yes, this is my cordial invitation to our dinner on the 20th of December. I know there’s still some time, but I thought you might want to know since you are always welcome to bring a guest along.” 

“Could I bring Remus?” 

“You may bring whomever you want.” 

“But why isn’t he invited?” you pressed. 

Slughorn gave you a look, you didn’t want to press too much, you had the suspicion it might have been due to bIood status, either that or Slughorn knew about his lycanthropy, either way, it just didn’t make sense to you that he wouldn’t invite Rem.

“For reasons that you are not and will not be aware of, I’m afraid,” he responded eventually. 

“But I could bring him as my guest?” 

“Yes, although I expected you to bring Mr. Black.” 

That got you to pull your head back just a little, you had been so defensive over Remus, you had forgotten that the most logical person for you to bring along would be your actual boyfriend. 

“Think about it,” Slughorn said with a small smile. “And tell me when you’ve made your choice. Now I don’t want to keep you for too long, it’s time to get to your next class.” 

You gave him a courteous nod and left. You’d have to talk to Sirius about this. 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Well, do we wanna talk about the size or are we all just gonna ignore it like Miss Vixen? Also GUYS! Upon some requests, we have a DISCORD server now and you can all join in and chat about marauders and/or GC with other lovely people. If you wanna discuss a new oneshot or even the new chapters of GC this is your place to go. The announcement for it is here and I'll leave links to it on a reblog of this post ad in the comments.

Read more Marauders Fiction

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Can we get what it’d be like for y/n and Andrew dating in high school? I’d imagine that since Andrew is smart he’s always helping y/n with her homework and congratulations her when she passes, and they make out a LOT! Literally can’t keep their hands off each other and other high school things.

Yeah, sure! Sounds simple enough!

High School Sweethearts | Andrew Graves x Reader

Andrew was your 💕boyyyyffrriiieeennnddd💕

Yes the hearts are necessary!

And by god he’s just the bestest boyfriend ever!

Like truly he is

He’s so sweet with you, helping you study and waiting outside your class to walk you to your next period

If you’ve gotten back a test that you were worried about, and you did good on it, he’d be more stoked about it than you

Your face? Peppered in congratulations kisses regardless if there are people around

He’s just so proud of you

You two are sickeningly cute

Sitting on Andrew’s lap during lunch time, carving around your initials on the bleachers, goodbye kisses when departing for your next class that get a liiitttlleee out of hand

The student body hates it <3

Truly there are no downsides to dating Andrew Graves!

You were seated on your exceptionally soft bed. The covers sinking a little to perfectly accommodate your weight and make you fit like a glove while you studied.

You had a pair of earbuds in, music blasting from them directly to your eardrums. You subconsciously tapped your pencil to the beat, hitting the notebook rhythmically. You- admittedly weren’t really studying. You got so distracted you couldn’t even read your notes without your eyes drifting to what you had drawn in the corner of the page.

Hearts. Lots of hearts. Big hearts, little hearts, good hearts, deformed hearts, hearts galore! All around one huge heart with a name inside of it that made you giddy.

Andrew Graves

Just reading his name made you squeal. Kicking your legs a little with glee as you thought about him. He was just such a good boyfriend! You two had begun dating in freshman year, so you couldn’t imagine your high school experience without him. He was always so nice with you, so loving. Very loving. By god that boy could not keep his hands off of you.

You felt your face flush at the thought, hiding it against your notebook. You felt so stupid for how he got you to be a blushing mess. He’d make fun of you for it too. You just- couldn’t help it! You’d never had anyone treat you like Andrew has. It felt wonderful…

Until something caught the corner of your eye. You lifted your head, attention being drawn to your bedroom window. Your family lived in a more suburban area, houses packed together like sardines. Your window, though small, gave you a look into the front yard and the sidewalk that divided what was your lawn and the road. It was normal for you to catch people walking past your window.

….but this late at night?

You set your notebook down, rising from your bed and hesitantly making your way to the window. The world felt like slow motion- like someone was watching your motions in a horror movie and yelling at you for being so stupid! But wouldn’t it be more stupid not to check? You tried to rationalize this in your head, it was probably just a late night jogger, or some kids who snuck out. You placed your hand on the window sill, finally turning your head and peer out the window and see…

Nothing. Nothing there. It was night, yes- but the street lights gave you enough light to see some of your yard. And it was empty.

You blinked. Paranoia. Yeah- that’s what it was. How long had you been….trying to study? You felt your stomach grumble in annoyance. Maybe some food will do you good.

Abandoning the window, you left your room to grab something to eat. Maybe you’d see if Andrew was still up so you could call him. That idea lightened your spirits. Yeah…you’ll do that.

….that was close.

Ashley was never more grateful how much of a dumb bitch you were. Though- it’s also part of her genius for wearing all black. Truly not coincidence cause she always wears black, it was her planning ahead!

Ashley stepped out of the gangly bush, kicking the leaves off of her shoe in frustration. Her pink eyes focused in on your window though, from what she could see- you weren’t on your bed again. In fact you weren’t even in the room. She scowled, wanting to give you more of a scare, but it was getting late. Maybe next time she’ll toss a brick through your window, or cover a knife in strawberry jam and leave it on your doorstep. Anything to give you a fright.

Anything to scare you away.

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 • RORO RIQUELME

summary. your brother’s annoying teammate is hard to resist when he shows off his tattoos.

warnings. smut, oral (fem receiving), weed, alcohol, and griezmann!reader.

a/n. finally wrote for my starboy. based off trust by bad gyal!

ever since you moved to madrid over ten years ago the city had managed to take you by surprise every one of those years. this year was no exception due to the high heat every day. it was a wonder you hadn’t run back home to france already. and somehow your brother had managed to throw a successful pool party with all of his teammates showing up. unfortunately, he had decided to host it in your house claiming that you had a better pool when in reality he just didn’t wanna deal with the aftermath.

you close the book you’re trying to read but you can’t make it past the first page as the sun blazes on your skin. beads of sweat form on your body for the simply act of sitting outside. you just hope that in this misery you can’t at least get a good tan. although, that thought doesn’t last long as you’re soon drenched in your own margarita. the cold drink making your exposed skin shiver. you look up locking eyes with the culprit. roro approaches you slowly with an unbuttoned t-shirt, exposing his hidden tattoos.

“shit. don’t tell antoine.” he picks up the football not even offering an apology.

“is he that scary?” you tease him.

“no he isn’t but your tantrums are.” he smirks at his words.

you look up at him making sure to cover your eyes from the sun in the process. his sudden change in demeanor interests you and you find yourself drawn to him. he’s always tried his best to get under your skin despite knowing who your brother was. he didn’t care and you admired that. carefully you place your hand on his chest slowly dragging it down until it’s placed on his rib cage tattoo.

“i’d be careful if i were you, roro. don’t forget who my brother is. better put that mouth to better use.” you offer him a smile.

“doesn’t it suck?” he places his hand on top you’re stopping it from wandering off even lower. “being second to your brother always? you can’t even threaten me without bringing him up because in reality no one cares about you. some people don’t even know you exist.”

this time you’re the one left speechless and not because of his words, in truth you didn’t care what anyone said about you, but because he’d finally been able to use cruel words to defend himself. he’s always held back never once trying to get into your bad graces. maybe it was the humid weather that made him not care anymore.

the party continued with countless plastic cups being thrown around the yard and countless splashes could be heard one after the other. yet you found yourself analyzing the brunette in the pool. fully shirtless now allowing you a view of his back tattoos. you would’ve never guessed he’d be one to ink himself by the innocent smile he wore everyday.

unbeknownst to you, your actions didn’t go unnoticed. paddy, marco’s wife, had noticed how your eyes kept wandering off to the brunette. she had tried inviting you on a brand trip for the fifth time and you’d changed the subject for a fifth time.

“i mean look at him! everyone thinks he’s this innocent little guy but he isn’t. what an asshole!” you ranted to her as she drank from her mojito.

“fuck him.” she muttered tired of him being the topic of conversation.

“exactly. if only everyone else could see what a horri-”

“no. fuck him.” she rolled her eyes.

“what?” you turned towards her trying to find out the meaning behind her words.

“it’s clear you want to sleep with him and he probably wants to as well. so do it. get it over with! i can’t hear you complain about him one more time.” she sighs.

“you can’t possibly be serious paddy?” you scoff.

“i’m never been so serious about something in my life. i’ve had hate sex with marcos all the time and it’s arguably the best sex i’ve had in my life.” she continues drinking her mojito as if what she had just said was the most normal thing ever.

“do it or some other girl at this party will.” is the last thing she says to you before she wanders off looking for her husband.

the sun is soon replaced by the moon as the hours go on and it seems your brother’s party has only grown in size. you hope your brother is sober enough tomorrow to clean after his mess because you sure wouldn’t be doing anything. your brother is lucky he lives retired from the city so you don’t get any noise complaints as the music blasts through the backyard. it’s the perfect atmosphere for a get together and a perfect atmosphere for paddy’s suggestion.

you carry your drink inside careful to avoid any spillage. you analyze everyone hoping to find the brunette and when you do you head directly towards him with no hesitation. you’re so close to him when you trip, accidentally of course, and your drink lands all over his white button down shirt. you stand up quickly looking quite concerned and confused.

“fuck i didn’t mean to sorry.” you murmur the last bit feigning innocence because you absolutely meant to spill your drink all over him. “you can borrow one of antoine’s shirts.”

“it’s fine.” he mumbles clearly annoyed at what just occurred.

“no, i’ve been mean. it’s the least i could do.” you offer a truce.

he analyzes your face for any hint of malice but doesn’t find any. a part of him wants to take your offer of help but the other part is still hesitant. ultimately he decides he doesn’t want to walk around with a wet and sticky shirt for the rest of the night. he sighs before agreeing. you quickly grab his hand before he can say anything and drag him towards the spare room.

“this one or this one?” you hold up two button downs. one is a bright shade of baby blue and the other a plain white one similar to the one you had ruined.

he chooses the baby blue button down not waiting another minute to change into it. he rushes causing two packets and a heavier material to fall out of his pockets. quickly he tries to retrieve them before you see them but you’re faster. you let out a loud exaggerated gasp at the sight of the pills and vape.

“you? no way.” you almost laugh at how surprising he was. first the tattoos, then the attitude, and now this. he was truly unpredictable. “don’t you have to take doping tests?”

“who do you think gets me cleared before matches?” he asks as he grabs the pills and the vape from your hand. although, you manage to take the vape back noticing what it contained. you inhale.

“my brother.” you exhale causing the smoke to invade his face. “does he give you the weed too?”

“just give it back.” he holds his hand out waiting for you to comply.

you obviously don’t choosing to sit on the bed instead taking another puff. your movements cause your black sarong to move up your legs giving him quite the sight. it was a shame that you were so attractive because you were equally as annoying. and if you weren’t your brother’s sister rodrigo would’ve tried to at least attempt a move on you. but because you were so determined tonight you’d make sure he would.

he walks towards you hoping to take his personal belongings back. after all he’s stronger more agile he should be able to snatch them away from you. but he forgets that you’re faster and every time he tries to reach for them he only ends up dangerously close to your body. you notice he never managed to button up his shirt and his rib cage tattoo is once again exposed to you. you place your hand on it knowing it’s your one chance to get what you want.

“what does it mean?” you look up at his brown eyes finding them already staring right at you.

“what are you doing?” he sighs frustrated at your weird antics.

“nothing.” you answer simply.

there’s a short pause between the two of you with silence filling the air. the two of you are practically chest to chest and you’re so close to getting what you want. what you need. you act first kissing him. after all you could blame it on the drugs in case this ends up being a huge mess. you expect him to pull away but he does the complete opposite grabbing your jaw as he deepens the kiss. they say it’s always the silent ones and he confirms those rumors.

your hands find themselves in his curls tugging on the strands as he leaves wet kisses along your jaw. meanwhile his hand finds it’s way around your throat pulling you closer to him as the two of you roughly kiss. it’s the opposite of gentle, what you enjoy. you gain the confidence to drag your hand down his bare chest all the way to the hem of his shorts when he stops you by grabbing your hand.

“what are you playing at?” he steps away from you. once again analyzing you and your facial expressions trying to figure out why you wanted to sleep with him.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about roro.” you say his nickname so sweetly and somehow also seductively.

“bullshit. one minute you’re threatening me and the next you’re all over me. you couldn’t get anyone else to sleep with you?” he asks in a more serious tone. you enjoy the view of a shirtless heated roro.

“i didn’t want to sleep with anyone else. but if you don’t want to then i’ll guess i’ll have to find someone else.” you begin to stand up.

you’re immediately pushed back down by the midfielder shocked at the force. it somehow turns you on even more.

“then say it.” he demands.

“say what?” you look up at him.

“that you want to fuck me. say it.” he demands once again.

“roro…” you brings your hands up his torso and wrap them around his neck locking eyes with him as you bring him closer to you once again. “i want you to fuck me.”

that’s all it takes to push him off the edge and his lips are once again on yours. the kisses are rough and quick and you find yourself tugging on his bottom lip to provoke him even more. it’s all so sensual like a scene on television. his hands roam your body ultimately landing on your ass as the two of you gravitate towards each other. you can feel his hard on against the fabric of your swimsuit. you’re pretty sure he can feel your growing arousal as he begins to grind himself against your clothed core.

you don’t wait another second in taking off his shirt allowing a perfect view of his forming biceps and his tattoos. it’s almost unfair how long he’s been hiding himself. you’re keen on making sure this happens again. so you proceed to flip the two of you over ending up in his lap. the new angle allowing you to see his face perfectly. you hate how pretty he looks and how he’s basically forbidden fruit. the aching in your core continues to grow and you realize you have to do something about it.

“fuck, roro. touch me.” you practically beg.

you’re answered with a smirk at first but he obliges bringing his hand to your lower body. he’s moving his hand as slowly as possible, teasing you, and you’ve had enough. you placed your hand on top of his dragging it to where you need it the most. he moves your sarong to have better access to your core, taking off the bottom part of your swimsuit in the process. you continue to guide his fingers to your folds.

“fucking hell.” he groans as he feels your wetness.

he starts slowly rubbing circles along your folds which instantly brings you pleasure. his movements cause you to let out loud moans which he quickly tries to silence by kissing you. the last thing he needed was anyone walking in on the two of you. as he kisses you he continues to spread your wetness. he decides that’s enough foreplay and drags one of his fingers towards your hole.

“can i?” he asks you wanting to make sure you’re still okay with what’s going on.

“please.” you murmur.

he enters you slowly making sure you adjust to the intrusion. you cling onto his arms at the new sensation, holding back a moan as he stretches you out. it’s almost embarrassing how much he’s been able to surprise you in the span of a couple of hours. he wraps his arm around your waist to help you adjust and keep you grounded. you reach up for him again kissing him as he begins to pump his finger inside of you. it’s such an intimate moment and he’s been able to comfort you more than any other guy you’ve slept with before.

“fuck, more.” you practically beg.

he obliges inserting another finger instantly groaning at how you clench around him. you squeeze his fingers so tight he swears he could cum in his boxers. the way you look under him doesn’t help him either. he’d always admired you except for your attitude but now that he had you he couldn’t give you up. your moans also encourage him to go faster wanting to pleasure you in the best way possible. he can only think about you right now and the way his fingers feel inside of you.

“so close roro.” you murmur. your nails digging deeper into his biceps.

then out of nowhere the building up orgasm inside you disappears as his fingers leave you. you’re about to yell at him when you see him kneel.

“do you trust me?” he asks suddenly.

“yes.”

his fingers are soon replaced by his tongue. the sight of his curls in between your legs alone make’s your pleasure build up again. as he laps up your juices your fingers find their way into his hair pulling him even closer to your core. it doesn’t take long for the knot in your stomach to unfold and soon you’re orgasming on his tongue.

“what the fuck roro.” you say shocked.

instead of responding he simply kisses you again. it’s quite an intimate moment as he moves the strands of hair from your face. the two of you separate from each other and there’s a comfortable silence between you too. the act is so domestic as the two of you simply stare at each other. unfortunately, it’s interrupted as someone knocks loudly on the door.

“who’s in there? i need a shirt.” antoine slurs.

“shit. shit. shit.” rodrigo steps away from you adjusting his clothes and finally getting his vape.

“hide in the bathroom.” you urge him as you adjust your sarong before heading towards the door.

he doesn’t know why he does it but he pulls you closer by your waist before kissing you one last time before heading for the bathroom. you’re taken aback but can’t help but grin a little at the action. it’s going to take more than your willpower to stop yourself whenever you go to anymore games in the future.

[hutchersonsgurl]

Eat your heart out - Clapton Davis

Paring x fem reader and Clapton Davis

Warnings & info MNDI 18+ smut and have of it me THRISTIN OVER THIS MAN SO SUE ME!

Summary: You and Clapton have best friends for years now you have always had a crush on him but didn't wanna ruin your friendship if he didn't feel the same way

You were at Clapton's house, chilling in his room, waiting for him to bring up the pizza the two of you just ordered. You were laying on his bed playing on your phone when you noticed that his yearbook was on his desk. You got up and sat in the chair and started turning pages, and you noticed that some of the people's pictures were defaced and covered in permanent marker. Most of them were people he didn't like, which didn't surprise you. All of his friend's pictures were left alone. You looked for your picture, and you noticed that your name had hearts drawn around it.

"Holy shit, does he like me!?" You thought to yourself that you could hear Clapton coming up the stairs.

"The pizza is here; please don't kill me for the delivery driver being a dumbass," he says.

You hurry up and put the yearbook back, push the chair in, and lay back on his bed, laying on your stomach, pretending that you haven't moved.

He walks and shuts his door, walks over to the bed, and hands you a plate.

"Mmm, yum, it took you long enough, dork," you say, playfully shoving him.

"Hey, now the delivery driver tried to deliver it to the next store, not my fault," he responds.

"Let's see your phone," you say, putting your hand out.

"What? Why?" He asked

"Just do it," you respond.

Clapton hands you his phone. You knew his password on his phone, and he knows your password as well.

You unlock his phone and look on the pizza app, and you notice he got one number on his address wrong.

"See, you typed in the wrong number," you say teasely.

"Shut up, we got the pizza," he says as he starts to eat his pizza.

The two of you laugh and joke around while eating your pizzas and enjoying your time together.

The thought of your picture being surrounded by hearts was still in the back of your mind.

It was about time for you to head home because school was tomorrow.

"Hey, before you leave, I need to talk to you," he says, patting his hand down on the bed.

"Uh, yeah, what's up?" You asked

"So you and I have been friends forever, and I can't imagine you not being by my side like ever," Clapton says, taking your hand in his

"Is everything okay? You feeling okay?" You joke

"Yeah, I'm fine. Everything is cool. What I'm trying to say is that I'm in love with you. I have been since the moment I saw you when we were kids," he says, looking at you with his puppy dog eyes.

You were quiet for a minute, internally screaming and dancing around in your mind.

"If you don't feel the same way, I get it," he says.

"No, no, that's not it. I just thought I was the only one who felt that way," you respond.

"Wait, you like me too?" He asks with his eyes lighting up.

"I've been in love with you since forever," you say, blushing.

"So, is it cool if I kiss you?" He asks

"Yes, you can kiss me, you goof," you answer.

He leans in closer to you and brushes his nose against yours.

His arms wrap around you. He pulls you against him and kisses you. You wrap your arms around his neck, returning the kiss. You feel weak on your knees with his mouth on yours. You have thought about this moment so many times, and now that it's happening, It feels right to you, and all of a sudden, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world.

He breaks away, breathing heavily; his face is flushed, and he has a look of contentment on his face. He sits back on the bed and pulls you to rest on his lap. His fingers move through your hair. As his touch softens, so does the rest of you. He kisses your forehead.

You smile, blushing so hard, staring into each other's eyes.

"It took 18 years for you to kiss me, Clapton," you tease.

'I wanted to kiss you for a while but was always too scared, he says. He looks up at you, 'That felt amazing, you know' *his eyes are shining. He has such sweet boy vibes that you love and that you wish other people saw of him. He brushes his lips against your neck.

"Mmm, please don't stop," you moan.

He grins cheekily at you. His fingers run through your hair, and he's kissing you and tracing your jaw line with his lips. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can't believe that your best friend likes you too and that he's kissing you down your neck. It's driving you wild. You can feel the electricity run up your spine. He looks deeply into his eyes, and you can't help but fall into those brown eyes that you always loved so much. Each time his lips crash into yours, your body jolts with electricity.

He pulls back from your mouth, and you run your hand through his soft hair, looking at him, happy and content.

He chuckles at you with his signature smile.

"You know this feels like a dream? You're the only girl that I've really wanted; none of the other girls compare to you," he says, leaning his forehead against yours.

"I feel the same way about you, Clapton. You might be a pain in my ass, but I can't get enough," you say with a blush.

He pulls his head away from yours, walks over to his dresser, pulls one of his favorite necklaces out of it, and walks over to you.

"So, yn, will you be my girlfriend? He asks boyishly

"Yes, I'll be your girlfriend," you say with a smile.

He walks over to you and gets behind you, and you lift your hair up. He puts the necklace on you.

You put your hair down and turn around to smile at him.

"Now everyone will know that you are mine, babe," he says.

"Gotta admit I like that way that sounds," you say as he grabs you by your sides to pull you closer.

As soon as the two of you are about to kiss, you hear his mom come inside.

"Hey kids, I'm home," his mom shouts.

"We'll be right down, mom," he shouts.

"Let's take you home, girlfriend," he says as he steals a kiss from your lips and pulls you downstairs.

Part 2

AAAAAA THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE

I HOPE YA'LL LIKE IT !!!

NOT EDITED

[sleepy-wyvern]

Billy Hargrove x Female!Reader (SMUT)

Chapter: 1/? (smut in later chapter) part 2 here

Summary: Billy pursues an uninterested reader trying to gain her adoration. When reader finds her crush kissing someone else that's when she realizes her feelings are towards the wrong guy.

TW/CW: persistent flirting, cigarettes, marijuana, violent threat (not towards reader)

This fic only contains characters that are 18+ and will contain smut, as such 18+ readers only, minors absolutely DNI

For the lovely @strangelysupernatural ! Thanks for challenging me to write a difficult character! It was super fun and I'm sorry part one took so long 😂 go check out her page for her part of the challenge to write for my baby Steve Harrington! And more AMAZING billy & eddie fics sure to make you melt! 🥰

The moment Billy laid eyes on you he had one thing in mind: the need to corrupt your shy, goody two-shoes attitude. The fact that you weren’t interested in him seemed to drive his instinct to chase even more.

You were 18 but unfortunately had to move to a new town known as Hawkins before graduation. It was absolutely the worst time to make friends as cliques had already been long since established and most people were parting ways in a month or so.

Still, you were the shiny new toy amongst the high school so people stared curiously. You ignored them all except one that you couldn’t seem to avoid.

The moment you saw him across the cafeteria your heart leapt in your throat. You looked away but still felt his hungry eyes on your body. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, part of you was urging you to go to him like a magnet you fought to ignore.

He had large soft eyes, a curly mullet that seemed to grow on you, a faint hint of facial hair and of course a muscular frame. The man was built like a truck; seemingly out of place amongst the other students.

“Whose that?” You asked, clutching your dull blue cafeteria tray as you sat at the lunch table. 

Your first friend in this foreign world had sat next to you, graciously giving you company and the run down of the place. She had always worn a heavy metal or rock themed outfit, perhaps at first coming off as scary but she was the sweetest person at this wretched place. You were thankful you had been placed at the empty desk next to hers in English class.

“That’s Billy Hargrove,” she answered with a loving sigh. “Don’t waste your time though he’s a fuck boy that only cares about one night stands.”

You look down at your lunch trying to avoid eye contact but you could feel his gaze over you. 

“Thanks Bunny,” you smiled to her genuinely appreciating the warning. 

She tucked a strand of wild brown hair behind her ear as she smiled to you softly before noticing him walking towards you in the corner of her eye. “Uh-oh,” she sighed.

His steps approached and your breath seemed to catch in your throat. You held your hands in front of you nervously as your mind buzzed. He’s definitely not coming this way, right? Even if he was, he wouldn't speak to you because you're sitting with someone right?

When he neared your table your heart stopped as he did.

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” His voice seemed to purr as he put his hands on the table “fresh meat?” 

“Leave her alone, Billy, she’s not interested.” Bunny groaned at him with a glare that would’ve scared you had it been directed your way. Her beautiful blue eyes seemed equally terrifying under the cafeteria fluorescent lights.

He wasn't yet deterred as he leaned forward with his fists on the cafeteria table. You could smell a hint of expensive cologne as he loomed over you.

“How about she tell me that herself?” His pink tongue rolled over his chapped lips as he spoke, soft eyes watching you intently with his head tilted. You wondered for a moment how his expression was so soft when the rest of him was covered in sharp edges.

You stood holding your tray with half eaten food “Not interested.”

You make your way to the trash can, throwing the scraps out before returning your tray. When you turned around though, he was still standing there. 

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, gaze caught on his firm chest which didn’t seem like a great alternative choice for your mental resolve.

“Can I help you?” You asked as polite and calm as you could muster. 

“Yeah, actually.” He folded his arms clearly flexing his muscles as he did “How about a date?”

It took all of your willpower to ignore the tone of muscle in his arms.

You squint your eyes at him finding the courage to look up to his face “did you not hear me? I’m not interested.”

You walk past him catching the scent of his cologne once again, this time it seemed to fill your entire body, swirling through your veins like addictive poison. A sweet, delicious toxin.

“We’ll see about that,” he called from behind you and you were glad he couldn’t see your expression. 

“Careful, y/n,” Bunny warned with a sly smile “that’s a spicy one. You get caught in that trap you’ll never get out.”

Thankfully that was the last of his advances for that day. The next day however, you found he was still not deterred. 

He found you once more, this time at the library as you looked for a new book to read. 

“Huh, and she reads?” He asked rolling a cherry red lollipop over his tongue as he leaned against the door frame.

His voice startled you at first but quickly you rolled your eyes “I’m surprised you’re here. You don’t seem like the type.”

“The type to read?” He asked, hovering his lollipop over his lips.

“The type to be literate,” you muttered, “since you clearly ignored what I said yesterday.”

Instead of being offended he chuckled low seeming to enjoy your remark “Feisty. I like it.”

You sighed.

“Listen Billy, I know exactly about boys like you. You dote on girls, say whatever they want to hear to get them to spread their legs for you and then you don’t call them in the morning. I’m not falling for that crap.” You looked at him seriously but his soft brown eyes didn’t change expression as they darted between yours. They were soft and seemed to be filled with almost an innocent adoration you figured to be a ploy.

“Are you listening? Did you even hear a word I said?” You asked. 

He took the lollipop out of his mouth with two fingers “honestly? No. I was too busy looking at how gorgeous you are.”

Despite the flutter of butterflies it awoke inside you you weren’t interested. Guys like him were bad news, good for nothing and definitely not boyfriend material. You weren’t exactly looking for a one night stand either, not with this fuckboy. 

You rolled your eyes turning to leave, feeling his eyes watch your curves as you stride away.

The next part of your plan was to ignore him until he lost interest. It worked well even in the shared class together. You sat towards the front of the class while he sat in the back, leaning against the uncomfortable plastic chair.

Bunny was in that class with you too, and she leaned over to whisper to you while the teacher was occupied. 

“The man is consuming you with his eyes back there, y/n. What did you say to him?” Bunny looked both confused and intrigued. 

You sigh with a slight eye roll, not daring to look back at him “I told him I’m not interested.”

There was one guy you were a little interested in though since moving here. 

Steve Harrington he was known as, or Steve “The Hair” Harrington Bunny called him. Total jock as well, which wasn't exactly your type but the man was gorgeous and sweet like golden honey.

When he actually paid attention to you it was a surreal feeling. How could a guy like that have any interest in someone like me?

You were hooked since the day he introduced himself to you and since then you looked forward to every chance you got to see him.

“Hey I was thinking,” Steve asked, his hazel eyes glowing as he leaned against the brick wall of the school. You were outside with the sun beaming down giving him an almost angelic appearance. “I was going to have a party at my place since my parents are gone anyways. You wanna come? You could take Bunny and her boyfriend, Eddie was it?”

“Yeah,” although it wasn’t Eddie’s scene you knew Bunny would likely drag him along if she was interested. You run your lips together before smiling “I’d like that.”

“Steve Harrington!” The loud voice booms and you close your eyes keeping back a groan.

God damnit Billy Hargrove I swear if you mess this up for me. 

Steve turned his head to look at Billy, body tensing “yeah it’s me. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“King Steve! I’ve heard so much about you,” Billy smiled but his tone was anything but friendly as he slapped his arm against Steve’s back. 

You roll your eyes “take it to the locker room why don’t you and leave me the hell alone Billy.”

“Is it that bad to just want to talk?” He asked innocently. 

“You heard the girl,” Steve said with a glare that could kill a man.

You looked at Steve and sighed “you go on, I’ll call you later.”

Steve glared at Billy as he walked by “call me when you get back to your house.” It was a sweet gesture but you knew it was a threat to Billy that he ignored.

“Y/n,” his silky voice spoke, making you groan when Steve was out of earshot “have you been avoiding me?”

“Awww look he’s smart, putting two and two together finally?” You turned to him clearly not interested in his bullshit. 

He smiled wildly when you noticed he held a cigarette between his lips “oh but it’s hard to forget about you, the absence of beauty is heavy on my heart.”

“Listen,” you turn to him and he raises his eyebrows surprised. “I know you think you’re hot shit or whatever but not every girl likes you and you’re just going to have to accept it. I'm not playing hard to get, I’m just not interested and I want you to leave me alone.”

He put his hands up defensively “alright, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

From the treatment of guys past you were genuinely surprised at how easily he had accepted your words. He actually did seem sorry and he took his vow seriously. The next few days you hadn’t heard from him at all. 

Instead you enjoyed your uninterrupted time after classes talking to Steve. You hated to admit it but you had a crush.

As you were leaving class on Thursday, you walked down the hall when a sight made your heart drop to your stomach. Steve was up against Nancy's locker with his lips pressed into hers. His ex you knew, as Bunny had filled you in.

Angry tears burned in your eyes as you walked past. Was it that you had misinterpreted his advances and he just wanted to be friends? You cursed at yourself for letting your guard down, brushing the back of your hand against your cheeks to wipe away the tears

As you stuff your books into your locker you grab your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. When you shut your locker you look down the hall seeing them locked in an embrace again. You thought you did your best to hide your reaction but as you glance further down the line of lockers you notice Billy looking at you, eyes melting from interest to concern. 

You blink back any anger or upset feelings brewing inside you, turning and walking quickly down the hall. 

“Hey, y/n,” Billy called out as you pushed past the crowd headed the opposite direction.

“Y/n!” He shouted. 

You reached for the metal handle on the side door, pulling it back but his strong hand slammed it shut again. 

“Listen,” Billy said and you turned to look at him. 

“What do you want, Billy? I’m really not in the fucking mood,” your eyes flashed anger at him. 

“It’s not fair that he did that to you,” he ran his fingers through his curls “in fact if you hadn’t ran off I probably would’ve punched him then and there.”

You let out a scoff you didn’t mean to, you didn’t want to admit it but his words did make you feel better. 

“And about the other day, you’re right. I need to give you space and I was a douche bag to you for not respecting that.” He paused looking outside for a moment before back at you. “I was planning on leaving you alone without saying anything but then I saw that in the hall and-“

Your sudden strange reaction caught him off guard mid-sentence as he stopped speaking. You look over your shoulder and up the school stairwell ensuring no one was watching.

“What?” He asked and as you watched his pink lips move you knew what you needed to do; to test something.

You pushed him against the old school wall with your hand to his chest. Wrapping your arms around his neck you stood on your tiptoes, losing your fingers in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss. 

As the shock wore off he took over, pulling you close to him by your waist. His soft tongue brushed against your lips requesting an entrance as you parted them for him. His taste was addicting as it swirled a tinge of sweet tobacco. His hands explored his way ever so slightly beneath the fabric of your top.

“Hey!” A teacher yelled as your body jolted in shock, pulling away from him “save it for off school property please.”

Bright red painted your cheeks but the teacher just sounded annoyed. 

“Sure thing Ms. O'Donnell,” Billy’s lips were curved in a smirk as he ran his tongue over his lips. 

You rolled your eyes pushing open the side door and stepping out into the cool air. You could hear his footsteps trailing behind you as you walked but you didn’t turn around. 

“Would you stop running from me, please?” He seemed to growl low in his throat as you turned to look at him. “I think we should talk,” words you didn’t expect him to say.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before turning to look at him. He stood behind you, hands in his pockets and you weren’t sure if you trusted the compassionate look in his eyes. 

“What, Billy?” You sighed looking around “Look, I’ve heard the stories about you. It’s not exactly a secret that you have one night stands with whatever pretty little thing you lay your eyes on. Frankly, I’m not interested.”

“I was like that. You’re right. And normally I’d be down for that kind of thing. Since I met you though, you’re different.” He hesitated looking into the distance “ever since I saw you in that cafeteria I can’t stop thinking about you. Every day, every night. You’re always on my mind.”

The cool breeze seemed to suck the air out of your lungs as your lips parted in a gasp.

Part 2

====

💙💙💙💙

Hope you enjoyed! Reminder my requests are OPEN!

Have a great day my lovely reader 💙

-Wyv

[ghcstao3]

ghost owning a quaint, used/vintage bookshop that really is only able to continue to run mostly by a good word of mouth and the regular collectors. they all know him as quiet, a bit standoffish, kind of intimidating but really knowledgeable and passionate about the shop and its contents.

-

It’s not the sort of place Soap would frequent. But then again, with work, he hardly has a home and time to find his places—so when he’s forced on a relatively longterm medical leave, he finds himself keen on exploring more of the places nearby to his flat.

That’s how he comes across the bookshop—the place intrigues him, the way it somehow looks like it’s been stuck in a certain point in history and has never changed since. And as he steps in, he’s lured further by the smell of books and used pages, and some distant undercurrent of tea and sage.

But most of all, Soap is drawn in by the store’s owner, sitting tucked into his corner with a book of his own, twisted into some (surely) uncomfortable position as he reads. He looks peaceful, Soap thinks. And strong. Steady.

(Handsome.)

Soap browses before he dare disturb the man, picking out books here and there but never quite settling. He looks through spines more than he does descriptions, like he’s afraid even gentle touch would be damaging.

Until a deep, rumbling voice informs him from the desk in the corner, “The books don’t bite, you know. Unless your hands are dirty, you won’t ruin them.”

Instead of continuing to browse with this new advice, Soap finally drifts toward the man, curious. His steps are tentative, though difficult to hide with creaking floorboards. The man hasn’t even looked up from his book.

“And if my hands are dirty?” Soap jokes.

The man looks up, one eyebrow raised, and replies as dryly as possible, “Then don’t touch.”

His eyes are a wonderful shade of brown. Something deep and soothing, the colour of black coffee and the old leather-bound books all over the shelves of the shop. Soap can’t help but stare into them, fall into the abyss.

Soap huffs. “Fair enough,” he mutters. He wills himself to look away from the hard, unwavering gaze, and back to the endless novels he has yet to choose from.

What a great first impression he’s made.

Soap sways on his feet. Clears his throat in an attempt to dispel the silence since it doesn’t seem like the man would continue to initiate anything himself. “Have any recommendations, then?”

“No,” the man says. Then he sits back, sets his book down, looks Soap over. Considers something for a long moment. Finally tells soap, “Try the poetry section.”

Funnily enough, it’s one of the few sections Soap had barely glossed over, hardly a place he would think to look for something of interest—so he’s more inclined to oblige, leaving the man to return to his novel and quiet without Soap in the middle of it all.

And funnily enough, it’s there Soap’s eye is caught by an unassuming book, its cover green and worn, the gilded text describing title and author faint and chipped.

He doesn’t look through it after picking it off the shelf—Soap just knows, somehow.

Soap moves toward the desk, silently makes the purchase. The man somehow seems at peace with Soap’s decision as he slides over the book to finally be claimed by its new owner once he’s done his checkout process.

Soap doesn’t expect the man to say anything else to him—he hardly seems the type to wish the meaningless have a good day to customers—but to his surprise, the man says, “Make sure to come back if it’s any good.”

There’s something hidden in his expression, in the few words the man has again spoken. Soap just nods, thinking he’d come back even if the pages turned out blank.

He leaves the shop feeling oddly lighter. Something swirls in his chest as he walks home, the book tucked dutifully under the arm currently without a sling.

Maybe he should go exploring more.

[helpimstuckposting]

I’m warning y’all now, I think this is my favorite part so far because I have issues

I’m a ghost and you are a shadow

Part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven

—

“We should call your mom,” Nancy nodded.

“My what?” Steve yelled, startled out of his thoughts. The absolute last thing he wanted was for his parents to come home. Why would Nancy even suggest that? He hadn’t seen his parents in years, and he’d very much like to keep it that way.

The crew all trained their eyes on him once more, confusion clouding their faces.

“Your… your mom?” Nancy questioned, uncertainty seeping in over her once-sure suggestion.

“Nance, I haven’t seen my parents since graduation, why would I call them?”

“Graduation?”

“Haven't seen them?”

“Your dads alive?” Dustin interjected over Nancy and Robin. His heart dropped into his stomach.

Steve… Steve couldn’t even begin to process which piece of information was most shocking. His dad was dead? His mom was… here? Present in his life, in the party’s lives? Enough for Nancy to want to call her at least. His dad was dead?

“I..,” he started, but didn’t actually know what to say. He should be happy his mom was here, right? Or… or sad his dad's gone? But what did it even matter, his dad could be dead in his world, too, for all he knew. But, the knowing was what caught him off-guard.

Instead of finishing his sentence or responding to the party, he pushed himself to his feet and followed the path back outside.

“Nice going, dipshit,” he faintly heard Max say before a smack and an ouch sounded from behind him. He kept going.

The pool wasn’t empty, like he’d left it in his world. He didn’t even notice the first time while trudging past it in the blinding sunlight. Now, he could see the rays of light reflect off the water like sparkles, glittering as if this was any other day, like everything was as it should be. He sat down at the edge, knees drawn up to his chest and watched as a few leaves floated by.

The sun pricked at the skin on his face, and he closed his eyes against the bright daylight. The orange glow behind his eyelids helped to calm his racing thoughts, though there was nowhere else for his mind to really go. So much had happened in just one morning, more than had ever happened when dealing with The Upside Down from his perspective. At least during their most hectic days they were all on the same page, all huddled together to fix something obviously wrong. Now, however overwhelming his excitement at having his family back was, was this really right? Now he was the outsider, he was the thing out of place. But, did he even want to go back to his world? There was nothing there for him.

Nancy, his worlds Nancy, and Jonathan had gone off to separate colleges. The surviving kids were all off at different schools for their senior years, Steve didn’t even know where they planned to go after graduation.

He had tried to go to college. He’d followed his father’s expectations again, tried to sink into a mindless pattern of following tasks, hoping to keep his mind off of everything.

He’d lasted one semester before dropping out. It was all just so exhausting, the world had almost ended and no one even knew. What did calculus matter at that point? He’d spent so long following his father's orders, so long reciting a script he’d been taught since birth. He thought it would be easy to slip back into that routine, follow the script like it’d been waiting for him to return.

It had been fine for a while, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his head, focused on completing assignments and tasks and doing anything to keep his mind on autopilot. But the dreams he couldn’t stop. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he was back there, watching his friends die. His nights were covered in blood and vines, screaming and squealing of bats from above a dried out lake. He wasn’t able to follow the script anymore, enough swigs of alcohol were the only things that kept the nightmares at bay.

He’d had panic attacks when the phone would ring, thinking it may have been his parents to tell him what a failure he was, or worse that they were coming home and he had to pretend everything was normal, put on the act of the perfect son. They never called, though. The panic attacks stopped after a while, the ringing phone drowning out into the background. The calls weren’t usually important. He was alone, trapped in his pristine tower.

But now his father, the Richard Harrington of this world was dead. His mother didn’t have anyone to follow on business trips, no one to keep an eye on to maintain a marriage neither wanted. She was here. Here for the party, here for this world’s Steve.

What would she say when she saw him? Would she be surprised? Happy like the people in the living room? Or would she be suspicious of this new person wearing her sons face? Suspicious like Eddie, who still hadn’t shown his face since the kitchen. Steve figured he was upstairs somewhere, hiding out until Steve was gone.

Or... or even worse, was she exactly like he'd known her to be? Would she hang up the phone, think it was a prank call or that it just didn't concern her? Would he get his hopes up and then have his world crash down once more at the realization that she still didn't care about him?

Every possibility just sucked. The weight on his chest that had lifted since the kitchen was back, pressing incessantly on his lungs, clogging his throat. No matter the outcome, no matter who this world's Linda Harrington was, Steve couldn't see any of this going well. He hoped the crew in the living room hadn't called her yet, wondered if maybe he could convince them not to at all.

He glanced up to the second floor of the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of curly brown hair or a flash of a ripped black t-shirt but the windows remained empty. The blinds to his bedroom window were shut tight and for a moment Steve pictured Eddie sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting anxiously until Steve was gone. He could picture the man’s leg bouncing nervously as he chewed on his nails, boots tap tap tapping gently against the hardwood floors. He could see the band tee and torn jeans a stark contrast against his horrible tan plaid walls. A soft smile tugged at his lips before Steve remembered why Eddie would be nervous in the first place. He wasn’t their Steve. This wasn’t his house. That wasn’t his Eddie.

Just when Steve started to wish he wasn’t alone, Robin made her way out of the back door and Steve felt his eyes prick again. She sat quietly next to him, drawing her own legs up in a mirror to his.

“We didn’t call your mom,” she whispered, before he even opened his mouth. Steve imagined that even in infinite worlds, every Robin could read every Steves' mind. He choked back a sob and buried his face in his knees. Her head rested against his shoulder and they stayed quiet for a few more minutes, just being present in a universe where they were both whole again.

Once Steve had had enough of the silence, felt it cloying around the edges, slinking over his skin like oil, he opened his mouth to speak. He wasn’t sure where he was going with his words or what would come out, he just started to talk.

“When you were little, did you ever go the department store with your mom and just… wonder how long you could hide before she noticed you were missing?” He started.

Robin didn’t nod or speak, just let him continue.

“I did,” he said. “I would hide in the racks of clothes and just… sit there. I’d usually get scared and come out and she wouldn’t say anything or do anything, and I was never sure if she even knew I'd been hiding.

“But, one time I just… stayed. Just to see. I didn’t care if she got mad, I wanted her to get mad or, or scared, or just… anything.”

He didn’t know why he was telling her this. He didn’t want pity or for her to feel bad for him, but once he started talking he just couldn’t stop, like a compulsion. It felt like he was throwing up these words all over the pavement, choking them out of his throat. At least he was telling her this piece of his past, and not something else he'd rather keep hidden for now.

“She left me there,” he whispered. “I don’t know if she did it as a punishment or forgot she even took me, but she was just… gone.”

He felt Robin choking up beside him, like his words were clogging her throat as well.

“She sent the nanny to pick me up.”

“You had a nanny?” Robin cut in, lifting her head off his shoulder. Steve just gave her a blank stare. “Sorry, right, not the point. Continue.” He took in her red rimmed eyes, took comfort in the fact that she was crying for him, though he felt awful for it.

“I was six. I never hid after that. I was too scared that it would happen again. She didn’t cry or yell when she found out I was missing, just sent the nanny and then gave me this… look, when I got back home. Like I was gum on her shoe, like I was an inconvenience.

“Eventually she stopped taking me and just left me at home. And then both of them just… left. Came back every few months just to leave again and after graduation they just stopped coming back at all. Even after the earthquake, they didn’t come back.”

He paused, wrapping an arm around Robin’s shoulders. He just needed to hold something, it was more for his comfort than hers. His emotional support Robin.

“I just,” he trailed off, not really sure where he was meant to be going with this. He just wanted her to know. Wanted someone to know, about him, about this stranger thrust into their lives. He wondered how the other Steve had lived, what his childhood was like. When did he meet Robin? Or Eddie? Did he have friends that Steve never even met in his world? Or was it all the same people?

“I just wouldn’t know what to do if I saw her again, is all,” he muttered in closing. Robin still didn’t say anything, just let them sit and hold each other. He missed this. He missed Robin. He missed having another half of himself, someone who didn’t feel like another person. Whenever they touched it felt like his own skin, like an extension of himself folding together and existing as it should and he hadn’t felt whole in so long.

“We’ve gotta tell her at some point, Stevie,” she said. “She lives here too, and she won’t be gone all day. I’m sure it would freak you both out if she just showed up and saw you.”

Steve nodded. He squeezed her shoulder a little tighter.

“Okay. But can we wait a little bit? Just an hour?”

Robin tucked her head into Steves neck and nodded. “Just an hour.”

—

Oh boy oh boy I really loved writing this one! Hope it’s as satisfying to read ✨

@weirdandabsurd42 @sirsnacksalot @space-invading-pigeon @aliea82 @goodolefashionedloverboi @emly03 @bestwifehaver @mentallyundone @13catastrophic-blues

[mcyt-builds-contest]

A promise is a promise, so here you guys go (might not be lore accurate i'm not a dsmp fan)

How to stop a dreamer by @mcyt-builds-contest

Dream is faced with a power he had never seen before: shreeping

"It had been weeks since Dream started putting this plan, months even, it had to be perfect, everything was calculated, everyone had been studied, corrupted, manipulated. there were no variable left, not a single amount of "unknown" was allowed in this equation. Dream had done it, it was the perfect plan." Punz was monologuing while trying to sneak out of what remained of L'manberg without getting noticed, a compass in hand, tonight would this symphony be finaly finnished.

Dream didn't really have a base, but he was hiding a room in the castle he once gave to Eret, and the empty walls of the structure made it feel like a prison, none of the torches had been lit in a long time, except a faint light, dissapearing behind a corner. "For Goodness sake why does he keep doing it!?" Dream's voice echoed through the hallway, startling Punz for an instant, he had never heard him this upset before.

"Dream? Is something wrong?"

"Oh. Sorry Punz, I didn't see that you were there." answered Dream, his mask dangling in one of his hands, "It's just that my foolproof plan, wasn't foolproof enough!", his voice started to derail a little has Dream tried to keep his composure, his grip thightening on his mask, almost cracking it

"But we took everything into account!" Punz added, his voice tinted in disbelief as he sat down, "We didn't make a single error!"

Dreamed sighed, exasperated by this new obstacle, "Turns out, Ranboo can only enderwalk during nighttime,"

"And?"

"And that guy, what's his name again, Bdubs? seem to just be able to sleep it away!" Dream threw his mask down on the table, filled with maps, papers and books, before taking out a folder filled with hastly scribbled pages, covered in all kinds of markings, "Since he 'appeared' here two week ago, he skipped throught every single night."

"You have a solution right? you always find a solution!" Punz said before taking a closer look at one of the pages, on it was drawn a pair of sunglasses,a weird rift-looking location and some sort of weird structure, labeled "temple to the sun god (ME!), gifted by Sausaage :p", Punz took the rest of the green folder arbored with the meticulous drawing of a clock, before asking "Where did you find this?"

"I took them from a diary i found in that Bdubs guy's house!"

"And you have a plan then?"

"Of course i do" Dream slighlty smirked, before putting his mask back on, "Remenber that prison i made Sam build and i'm supposed to go in? I think we may have to change the convict :)"

[iamthecomet]

Rain leg worship in stockings perhaps? 👉👈

UH HUH. UHHH HUH!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS.

almost 1.9k of Rain teasing Mountain and Mountain not being able to resist. Some mention of Mountain's appreciation of feet, but nothing too intense.

Mountain can’t stop looking. No matter how many times he raises his eyes back up to his book they trail back down, over blurring words to the stocking clad feet pressed into his lap and the long legs attached to them.

They’re warm Rain had offered when Mountain asked him about the stockings.. He thought about pushing a little harder–getting a real answer. Reminding Rain that pants are even warmer. That there are blankets. That Mountain isn’t stupid and he knows just how little insulation sheer stockings give. Not like he’s never worn them before. 

He doesn’t say any of it though, because as soon as the words started to build up behind his teeth Rain was dragging his big toe down the seam of Mountain’s jeans. Pressing the warm pads of his toes against the soft swell of his cock. 

And those words were gone. Dried up. Rain was settled into his spot on the couch by then, book open, body leaned back against the arm. 

“Do you like it?,” Rain asks absently and Mountain drags his eyes away from his lap, from the delicate arch of Rain’s feet and the way his toes curl. It takes Mountain a second to realize that Rain is asking about the book, not the feet on his dick. Rain suggested it so Mountain’s been reading it. He looks at the pages again, words swimming. Blood rushing south. 

Mountain clears his throat. “Uh–yeah. I really do.” 

It isn’t a lie, even though right now he can’t recall a single thing about it. He hasn’t turned the page since Rain sat down. All of the characters suddenly seem unfamiliar, English does too. 

Mountain wonders if the stockings are as soft as they look. Or are they the material that gets caught in his callouses, tugs on his skin uncomfortably? He bets they’re silky though. Rain has high standards.. He longs to touch, to find out. To run his finger over the arch of Rain’s foot to make it flex. Up over his calf, behind his knee. Over the soft swell of his calf and under that over-sized shirt that just barely covers everything else of interest. He wonders if Rain’s wearing underwear. If he’s chubbing up. Cock straining against the thin fabric. He wants to glide his hands up, bunch that shirt up around Rain’s waist. Wants to touch. 

“Good. I thought you would.” Rain says, unaffected. “I know you’re not always into fantasy but the characters feel real enough that I thought you’d be into it. I really like Vin.” 

“Me too,” Mountain says softly, absently, eyes drawn back down. He’s fully  hard now, or almost there. Pressing up against the curve of Rain’s foot. Rain knows–has to. Especially with the way he keeps moving, dragging his foot up and down. Rubbing Mountain through his jeans. And Mountain shouldn’t fall for it. He knows his game. Knows every single one of Rain’s games really. Coy, and sly, and always acting unbothered, ignorant. Making  Mountain desperate while he yawns and reads his book and acts bored and talks about the characters like Mountain can think further than the way his cock is twitching against Rain’s toes. 

Mountain’s hot. Sweat pricking at his hairline despite the winter chill. He wants to see Rain’s face. Wants him to lower the book and look at him. Even if he’s faced with disinterest it would be better than this. It takes all of his effort not to rock up against Rain’s foot. To just give in. 

“You ok, Mount?” Rain asks, finally lowering the book just enough for Mountain to see his eyes, cerulean and shrewd. “You seem distracted.” 

Mountain closes his book, tosses it on the coffee table. “Wonder why.” 

Mountain can’t see the way Rain’s mouth quirks up, but he knows him well enough to know it does. He sees it in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. Knows it by how Rain presses a little harder, rubs a little more deliberately. Mountain digs his teeth into his cheek and fights a gasp, a groan. Fights the urge to hump Rain’s foot and make a mess. 

He’s got his eyes on Rain’s legs now. There’s something about the stockings that make Rain’s shape more obvious. Lithe and muscular. Mountain wants to drag his tongue over the curves. Taste nylon and sweat under his tongue. To bend down and press his lips to the side of Rain’s knee. Hook his teeth into those stockings and pull until they give.

He reaches down and drags his finger over the arch of Rain’s foot, watches it curl in on itself. Watches muscles jump beneath the sheer tights. Sees Rain’s thighs shift, clench. Watches that shudder run all the way through his body. Sees the subtle roll of Rain’s hips against nothing. Doesn’t miss the way a violet blush creeps over his cheeks. 

It’s too much. 

Mountain leans over, grabs Rain’s book. When he tosses it onto the table it misses. Rain makes a noise of protest that Mountain swallows when he presses their mouths together. Hands, finally, finally, sliding up over his legs. 

The fabric is impossibly smooth, buttery beneath his hands. He licks into Rain’s mouth and Rain arches him into him, gasping, mouth opening wider, hips canting up toward Mountain as his fingers climb higher. Over the side of his knee to grab a handful of Rain’s thigh. Flesh dimpling in as Mountain grabs hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck. Mount–hangon. You’re gonna rip them.” 

Mountain eases up as he pulls away, nipping at Rain’s lip just enough to sting. Pressing their horns together. Boxing Rain into the corner of the couch. He dips his head. Grazing fangs over Rain’s jaw, his pulse. The water ghoul gasps beneath him, shuddering as Mountain’s hands slip higher, under the hem of the t-shirt. Thumbs resting in the juncture of his thighs. Feeling the heat pooled there. Smelling salt and sweat and petrichor as he buries his nose in Rain’s collarbone. 

“Stay,” Mountain orders. Rain doesn’t respond, doesn’t nod. But when Mountain pulls away Rain seems to melt further into the couch. Eyes lidded as he watches Mountain lean back into his previous spot. Bracketed by Rain’s legs now, one foot on either side of his hips. 

He curls one big hand around Rain’s ankle. Feeling fine, delicate bones beneath his fingers. Dragging the pads of them over his ankle bone. He lifts Rain’s leg, braces one pretty foot against his shoulder so that when he turns his head his breath fans out over Rain’s leg. 

The nylon has a smell. Chemicals. Not wholly pleasant, but Mountain drags his nose along it anyway. Inhaling as he leans a little further forward. Tongue darting out to taste the plasticine of the tights mingling with Rain’s skin. Mouthing along his calf, up to his knee. Lapping at the crease there.

Rain gasps, head thumping back against the arm of the couch. He throws his arm over his eyes, the other hand digs into the couch. Fingers digging into the plush green cushion for all he’s worth. Mountain watches his knuckles turn white. 

Mountain takes his time. Laving wet spots over the stockings. Sucking marks onto Rain’s thighs through them. Careful not to tear, not to bite. Not yet. Before long he’s laid out between Rain’s legs. Both thighs slung over Mountain’s shoulders. Both of Rain’s hands curled around Mountain’s horns. Holding on tight as Mountain nudges the hem of his t-shirt up higher and higher. Rucking it up over Rain’s hips.

“No underwear?” Mountain rumbles, bending down to nose along the stiff line of Rain’s cock, held tight to his body by the stockings, but hard nonetheless. Curving up toward the waistband. The thin fabric clinging to the head where Rain’s been leaking. 

Rain opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a startled whine when Mountain sucks at the head of his cock. Dragging damp salty fabric into his mouth. Pressing his tongue to the slit. Feeling Rain kick and leak into his mouth. 

“Pretty,” Mountain whispers against Rain’s bulge. Dragging his mouth down the shaft. Bringing a hand up to cup his balls, roll them through his hand. 

“Take it out,” Rain whispers, pleads. “ ‘s too tight.” 

“Does it hurt?” Mountain asks. He presses the flat of his tongue over Rain’s cock. Tasting pre and nylon. Rain’s cock pulses against his tongue. Spits another glob of pre into the stockings that Mountain greedily laps up. Humming as Rain moans. His fingers dig painfully into Mountain’s hair. “Yes. Satanas, Mount. Yes, it hurts. Please. Please.” 

Mountain purrs. Nuzzling his nose against Rain’s twitching cock. Breathing in the scent of Rain’s desperation. He hooks one fang into the stockings. Feels the way they give way beneath his teeth. Splitting the stockings just to the side of Rain’s cock. Dragging them open with his mouth until his lips press against warm, velvet soft skin with no barrier. 

The noise it drags from Rain makes Mountain’s cock kick and spit in his jeans.  Rain’s cock springs free. And Mountain pounces, sucking the head into his mouth. Laving his tongue along the sensitive underside. 

Rain hiccups, breath catching as his hips roll up into Mountain’s mouth. Unable to stop himself now. Cock sliding deeper and deeper into Mountain’s mouth with each little hump. 

“Thank you,” Rain breathes, relieved and pained in the same breath. Leaking like a faucet onto Mountain’s tongue. “Thankyou thankyou–oh—” 

Mountain digs his fingers into Rain’s thigh again, feels his fingers punch through the tights. The fabric running, laddering beneath his fingers and down Rain’s legs. He takes Rain deep, presses his nose to the soft hair at the base of his cock. Allows Rain to hold him there and fuck into his throat. Toes curling against Mountain’s back, still stocking clad. 

“Close,” Rain warns, Mountain just purrs. He slides his hands from Rain’s balls further back to circle his hole. Finding him slick and fluttering. He presses just the tip of his finger in and Rain keens. Rolling his hips to take the digit deeper, to fuck further into Mountain’s throat. 

Rain cums with a broken whine. Hips stuttering. Spilling thick down Mountain’s throat. Body sucking Mountain’s finger in deeper and deeper as he twitches. Clenching and fluttering as Mountain swallows him down. 

Mountain pulls back, pressing a soft kiss to the head. Rain hisses and the sound makes Mountain throb. He presses his finger deeper, slides another in alongside. Rain makes a gut punched noise, a devastated sound even as he grinds down on Mountain’s fingers. Looking for more despite his softening cock. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” Mountain whispers. Reaching down to palm himself. Ignored cock still painfully hard. 

Rain nods, frantically, dark curls falling into his face. He pushes himself up enough to hook his fingers into the waistband of the stockings, intent to pull them down. Mountain grabs his wrist with his free hand, stops him just as he starts to slip them down. When the other he pushes in deep, pets against a spot that has Rain’s eyes rolling back in his head, body going boneless against the couch. 

“No,” Mountain says, firm. “Leave them on. Let me fuck you through them.” 

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 6

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 15.4K

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking so long with this update. I hope this hits the spot after my long break! This is a Jake chapter so be ready!

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback y’all give me ❤️

Major shout out to Hannah @capturethechaos for helping me pull the last bits of this chapter together for you guys. Without her, I’d be struggling.

Also props to my lovely Nessa @asparrowofthedawn for keeping me grounded when I doubt myself on here and giving me all the ideas.

Warnings: cursing, smoking/tobacco use, jealousy, sexually explicit content - 18+/MINORS DNI!! (Unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, some dom stuff, idk.. y’all know me by now)

Part 5, Masterpost

You slide between the covers of your bed, swearing to yourself that the feeling of the sheets gliding against your freshly-shaved legs is something you’ll never be able to replicate. It’s what you’ve been craving since you stepped into that bar earlier tonight when you were dragged out to see your friends for a few rounds of drinks. 

Seeing and catching up with them was something you desperately needed, but what they didn’t know was that you had been torturing yourself the entire time with Josh and Jake on your mind. It’s been like that for days. Just your brain replays every single moment you’ve had with them on a continuous loop while you overanalyze it all to death.

After the night Josh had given you his tattoo, the both of you have been wrapped up in the monotony of your busy, everyday lives. Sure, you’ve exchanged some flirty messages and even a few pictures over the last few days, but it failed in comparison to what you had with him. Jake, on the other hand, hadn’t spoken to you since that morning in their kitchen, which has left things pretty unknown between the two of you. 

You do know that with these types of arrangements, everything can end as soon as it started, and it would be easy for you to sabotage it all with your overthinking. It’s just proving more difficult than you initially expected.

You like to think of Josh as an open book. You can flip through all the pages, but half of it happens to be written in invisible ink. Jake in comparison is sealed shut, and just to throw in another curveball, it's as if he is reading random lines throughout the story to you without an ounce of context.  

While your cat sleeps between your legs as you scroll through your phone, the device begins to vibrate in your hand with the banner for an incoming phone call appearing on the top of your screen. You don’t recognize the number since it’s not one of your saved contacts. Normally you would decline the random call, but there is something about it that makes you reconsider swiping it away. 

You tap the screen to accept and bring your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

A few seconds pass before a raspy voice from the other side of the line responds, “Dove.”

There’s no question as to who it is, but you ask anyway, “Jake?”

A breathy drawn-out chuckle crackles in your ear, taunting you, “You’re good at this.”

The sound makes your chest feel heavy, while somehow causing that fluttery feeling to blossom in your stomach. Men have never intimidated you before, especially to this degree, but he makes you nervous, and you haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly why. You know he can’t see your smile starting to form, but you’re sure he can hear it through the line. You do your best to bite it back, and throw in a frustrated groan for good measure, “What do you want? Better yet, tell me how you got my number first.”

He scoffs loudly into the receiver, “Oh, I can fuck your brains out but I can’t call you? You have some interesting boundaries, baby.”

You can hear the alcohol in his system from the lazy cadence of his voice alone. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

You scold him with a defeated sigh, “…Jake.”

A couple of seconds pass before he pushes a sleepy hum through the line, “Mmmm, yes?”

You pull your phone away to check the time before bringing it back to your ear with a heavy roll of your eyes. “Why are you calling me at one in the morning?”

“I wanted to hear your voice.” As jaded as you are, there’s a genuine softness to the admission that sends warmth to your heart even though you’re certain there’s a different intention behind the late call. 

You listen closely, but you don’t hear any background noise through the end of the line that would indicate he’s out tonight. “Where are you?”

“You like to ask a lot of questions. But if you must know, I’m at home in my bed with my dick in my hand.”

You huff at the thought, convincing yourself that he’s only saying it to get you flustered. What you try to do instead, is picture how his night must’ve played out for him to call you this late. “So you couldn’t get laid tonight and I’m your last option?”

He laughs, filling your ears with the nasal cackle. It’s a fleeting moment of what it truly sounds like before he takes a calming inhale through his teeth. “Feisty tonight. And no. I never said that. If I wanted a woman in my bed tonight, there would be. And the only reason there isn’t is because you’re not here.”    

You blush at the thought and the witty remark you had loaded vanishes off your tongue. He does that — making your brain go all fuzzy when usually you’d be so sure of yourself. 

The line is left open for longer than you intend as you chew on your bottom lip in a desperate search for something clever to say, making him ask, “What are you doing? Can I come over?”

Your mind is racing with possibilities, but you ultimately sigh in defeat, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jake.”

“Why?” He huffs in disbelief, giving away the fact that rejection is not something he’s used to. 

“Because it’s obvious you’ve been drinking and I’m in my pajamas and bed already snuggling with my cat. That’s why.”

He hums before clicking his tongue in thought, “I dunno…those sound like reasons why I should come over.”

Before he has the chance to convince you, which you know he can, you cut in abruptly, “I’m hanging up now. Goodnight, Romeo.”

“Wait!” The rise in volume makes you jump and pull the phone from your ear. “Hold on a second. I just wanna talk to you for a few minutes.”

You know it’s risky to entertain him, but your curiosity keeps you tethered to the conversation.“Go ahead, start talking.”

“Oh no, she’s starting to be a brat.” The sarcasm laden in his voice makes your brain tingle more than you’d like to admit.

You smile like an idiot as you adjust your position on the bed to get as comfortable, but your movement disturbs your cat's slumber enough for him to give you an annoyed chirp before hopping onto the floor. 

Just mentioning his brother’s name would be like dousing a fire with a gallon of gasoline, but you do it anyway. “Where’s Josh?”

He doesn’t even attempt to hide the irritation when he scoffs, “I don’t fucking know. But he’s not here on this phone call with us, is he?” 

“No, he’s not.”

Realizing that he might have overreacted, he relaxes, taking on a more comforting, silken tone, “Then let’s keep this between us, dove. No need to worry about him tonight.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Dove?” He pauses as if he’s falling back into his thoughts. “I think it’s because you’re so soft and delicate. Especially when I can feel you tremble…how your heart races when you’re in my hands —like a beautiful little dove.”

You didn’t anticipate him having a real answer, because truthfully, you never put much thought as to why he called you the pet name before now. 

As if the silence between you becomes too unbearable for him, he blurts out, “I’ve been thinking about you.”

Based on what you know about him so far, admitting something like this seems very unlike him, so you follow up, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes heavily into the phone, but you imagine that breath fanning across the vulnerable skin of your neck instead. “Is it bad that I can’t stop thinking about your pussy wrapped around my cock?”

You’re not sure what you should have expected, but the turn in conversation to dirty talk makes your face flush with heat and your chest constricts from the thought alone. “No… I don’t think so.”

��No?” The changing inflection of his voice reveals that he senses the shyness coming through in your meek response. “You like knowing that the thought of filling you up again has been on my mind all fucking week?”

You can picture it so vividly. His words spark the memory of his cock deep inside you, the way he fills you up, and how he eventually runs down your inner thighs. You involuntarily squeeze them together, but only to clench around absolutely nothing.

 He chuckles softly through the drunken confessions, the bitterness of liquor coating every word that passes from his lips. “You got me hooked. You know, I was at the bar tonight and all I wanted was to hear those sweet little cries of yours when you beg for me…when you say my name.” 

“Jake…” You whisper into the line. What he’s saying to you is taking you by surprise, but not in an uncomfortable way. In a way that freezes the mechanisms of your mind from working properly. In a way that makes you feel anxious because you might say the wrong thing and embarrass yourself — ultimately ruining this moment. 

In the typical phone sex fashion, he asks, “What are you wearing, dove?”

An airy laugh flutters from your throat as you pull at the loose clothing draped across your body, “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Jake, but I’m wearing a ratty t-shirt and pajama pants.” You stifle the groan of self-loathing while pinching the bridge of your nose knowing that you could’ve just lied and made up anything that your heart desires. 

“Sexy.” The way he drunkenly drags out the word helps you visualize a smile on his face. He then adds without skipping a beat, “Do you like lingerie?”

Feeling like this is your chance to have the upper hand, you tease back, “I do. So, Jacob, are you telling me you’re a lingerie guy?”

He snorts a laugh, adding levity to what has been a tense interaction otherwise.“What man isn’t?”

You pick at the threads of your duvet while you reflect on past partners through the years. “I dunno. I feel like some men would rather get it off as soon as possible.”

You hear a judgemental hum before he answers, “Well, it seems like you’ve been wasting your time with the wrong men.”

Your tone is teasing, yet flirty, “And you’re the right man?”

“I never said that.” He pushes out a deep sigh, “Honestly, I have a feeling that I might be the worst thing for you, baby.”

He’s probably right about that, but you’re stubborn enough to want to find that out for yourself. You could question what he means by it, but you choose to mentally flip through your wardrobe trying to remember what you might have until something pops into your brain. “I have this pretty black set that I bought a few months ago. I think you might like that one.”

You hear a soft, muffled groan come through the line, “Would you try it on for me?” 

Something has changed in his voice. It’s not the usual demand or teasing remark you usually get from him. He wouldn’t admit this, but you hear the desperation in the request. The barely-there whine blessing your ears — the way it seems like he’s groveling at your feet for it. 

“Give me one moment,” You huff out as you nearly fly out of your bed, tumbling onto the floor on your way to your closet. You tap the speaker icon and place the phone down on your dresser and walk over to your closet to search for the lingerie set somewhere in the heaps of clothes.  

A pleased chuckle comes from the speaker, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Flipping through the collection of hangers, you spot the recognizable material sticking out amongst the rest of your clothing and pull out the strappy, black corset bra with its matching lace panties. You’re partial to the modest, simple set. It’s not flashy or complicated compared to a lot of lingerie that you’ve seen in some specialty boutiques, but it’s without a doubt the nicest item you’ve bought for yourself in a long time — something that would probably look flattering on anyone. 

You hold it out in front of you, reliving the fond memory of buying it and how much you love the way you look in it until you hear Jake’s voice echoing throughout your small bedroom, “Are you still there?” 

“You’re so impatient.” You step out of your closet, scolding him half-heartedly now that you’re experiencing another wave of confidence. You rush to yank the t-shirt that has its fair share of holes over your head and onto your bedroom floor. Next to join the pile at your feet are the arguably not-as-sexy cotton briefs you’ve worn to bed.

“Where the fuck did you go? Narnia?”

“I think you underestimate the vastness of a woman’s clos—“ Your snarky response is suddenly cut off when your foot snags the leg hole of the panties, sending you toppling over head first. Thankfully, you catch yourself on the edge of the dresser before you fall over completely. You do your best to stifle back the groan of pain, hoping he didn’t hear your embarrassing moment of clumsiness.

Which proves to be a failure when he asks, “What was that? Are you okay?”

You straighten and finish pulling the panties up the rest of the way while you answer, “Yeah, yeah…just tripped a little. I’m fine.”

He responds with a little drunken giggle,  “Aww, weak in the knees for me already, baby?”

The bad joke paired with the pet name he’s let slip a few times instantly redirects your thoughts to his twin. “I wasn’t aware that I was talking to Josh on the phone.”

You wince and brace yourself for the repercussions of mentioning his brother. Silence hangs in the air while you clasp the bra, and adjust the straps and material on your body.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice is tight, like an overstretched rubber band ready to snap. 

“Relax, Jake.” Now that you have the set on, you sit on the lounge chair that's beside your bed and face the full-length mirror in your room. You do your best to diffuse his annoyance by adding a velvety richness to your voice. “Just that you two are more similar than I think you realize.”

“I’m nothing like him.”

You’re too busy watching your reflection to find the best position for the photo. You drape a leg over the arm of the chair, spreading yourself as you lean back into the cushion and begin feeling across the black lace. 

“You act like it’s a bad thing,” You giggle, tapping the camera button, to capture the image. 

You hear the text alert from his phone, and all you can do is wait for him to open the message. “Am I gonna see you or wha—oh fuck.”

If you could see him look at the photo, you would see him staring blankly at your mostly naked body in complete awe. You would see how his eyes take in all the details of your top, how he can see your nipples through the sheer black fabric. You would watch them follow the curves of your body down to your hand that’s placed between your open legs. 

All you can do is listen closely, just patiently wait for his reaction. You hear it in real-time, his realization that the picture you’ve sent is a Live Photo. “Oh, my god. You’re fucking perfect.”

You imagine him holding his thumb to the photo to watch that short video of you sliding your fingers underneath the fabric before you pull it to the side to show him what’s hidden behind it. 

He pushes out a sharp hiss, following the sound with a hushed grunt. “Tell me how it feels on your skin.”

You explore the sheer, thin fabric with your fingers, feeling your hardened nipples through the delicate material. “It’s soft and lacy. I think you would like it.”

“Are you playing with yourself yet, dove?” Once he hears your faint hum, he takes in a staggered breath, “Imagine my fingers taking care of that sweet little clit of yours. Is she hard yet?”

You do just that. You pretend it’s his fingers instead of yours rubbing across the lace covering your clit in teasing, languid patterns. You imagine how his touch is slightly rougher but still mindful of how sensitive you are.  “Yeah.”

His labored breathing adds to the strain in his voice, “Good girl. What do you want me to do?”

A thin sheen of sweat has started to collect across your brow, and you swallow back the dryness on your tongue. “Your fingers.”

“Where do you want them?” When you don’t answer him right away, he makes sure to reassure you, “Don’t be shy with me, baby.” 

“Inside me.”

“I want you to say it.” His silken voice coaxes you in with each word, every heavy, weighted breath.

Heat blooms in your chest as your heart races within it, but you force yourself to push past that last bit of self-preservation you’ve been holding onto. “I want your fingers inside my pussy.”

“Fuck,” he groans, and for a moment you think you can hear the distinct wet sounds of lube. “I love hearing you say such filthy words, dove.” He pauses for a few seconds to catch his breath before continuing, “I wish I was there right now making you cum on my fingers, stretching that pretty cunt out for my cock.” He grunts another curse, “I’m so hard thinking about it.”

It could be that you just want to hear him say it, or maybe you’re doing it to stroke your ego since he’s already admitted to it moments ago, but you can’t help but ask, “Did you think about me tonight?’

“Of course, dove. I’m not sure if I ever stop.” He sighs, sending static of his muffled breath into the phone before he starts to ramble, “The way you taste. I don’t think I’ll be able to get how you look sucking my cock out of my head. I’m serious when I say I was hard most of the night thinking about you wrapped under my arm, wearing your sluttiest dress. Fuck! I wanna fuck you so bad right now.”

You’ve been touching, feeling, and pleasuring yourself with his gravelly voice acting as your guide. Those words, the graphic details mixing in with his labored, broken breaths cause your imagination to run away from you. “What are you doing?”

He chuckles, “You like thinking about me jerking off to you, baby?”

You laugh with him, because there’s no chance in hell you can admit the amount of time that you’ve already spent thinking about it. “Maybe.”

He keeps his voice low with the taunt, “I know you’re a dirty, little voyeur.” 

You shoot up to a sitting position snapping out of your daze enough to blurt out into the receiver, “He fucking told you?!”

He adds to your anxiety with the deliberate pause he takes. “No, but now he doesn’t need to.”

You can’t believe he blindsided you, catching you in the confession. “You fucking bastard.”

He only laughs, filling your head with the intoxicating sound, “So you wanna see the way I play with myself?”

You stay quiet for a few beats too long, imagining the way he’s probably laid out across the silken sheets of his bed like he was the last time you slept with him. You know he has that cocky smirk on his face knowing that you’re going to say yes. 

“Come on, dove. I know you want to. Just gotta ask me nicely.”

 “Please, Jake,” your voice is a pitiful whisper, lacking all the confidence that would make you sound so sure of yourself. In reality, it’s embarrassing just how quickly you fold and give in to him. 

“That’s my girl.”

 Your phone begins to vibrate due to the incoming video chat call coming from him. The proposition of seeing him in real-time, while he can also see you, makes you nervous. “Oh, I don’t know about a FaceTime—“

“It’s just me, okay? I want to see you and you want to see me, right?” His voice is beyond enticing — so dangerously silken entering your brain. Just like his twin, he can convince you of anything, and it helps that you were already there, to begin with. 

You chew on your lip for a few seconds before hitting the accept button, switching the normal phone call into a video one. Your screen opens up to his rear-facing camera that’s pointed at his ceiling. 

More importantly, it’s pointed directly at the mirror on the bedroom ceiling. 

And just like how you pictured in your mind, he’s laying flat on his back across his massive bed. His black button-up he probably wore for the night out is completely open, exposing his tattooed chest and stomach. He kicked off his pants, leaving his boxer briefs on — only pulling them down his legs far enough to free his cock.

You can see the reflection of his face past his phone while he slowly plays with himself., noting that your prediction about that smile of his was right. His eyes bounce back and forth between his phone and looking directly into the mirror.  “I wish it was your hand stroking me instead. I fucking love the way you touch me. It’s so gentle, almost like you’re scared you’re gonna hurt me.” The way he’s touching himself seems so teasing, following no true pattern or rhythm, as if he was truly pretending it was your hand instead of his own. You watch him pet the underside of his cock with a feather-light touch of his fingertips and how it twitches from the contact. “God, your lips…how your tongue feels on my cock.”

Your brain is going a mile a minute with everything you want to say back to him, but the only coherent thing that forms on your tongue is, “How close are you?”

He groans through an even bigger smile, stretching his neck out while he smacks his dick against his belly, “Close. I’ve been edging myself for a fucking hour thinking about you.” You’ve been too shy to show your stunned expression, so the only view you’ve given him is of the blank white ceiling of your bedroom. “I wanna see that pretty pussy wrapped up like a present for me. Can you show me, dove?” 

“Oh, you want to see me?”

“Now look at you being the tease.”

You tilt the camera down, starting your little show by revealing your legs and slowly working your way down until he can see the black lace thong. You then bring your hand into the frame, teasing him with the sight of your fingers brushing across your covered pussy. “What would you do if you were here?”

You break your concentration to watch his hand stall on his cock, like his thoughts have become scrambled inside his head for the very first time,  “If I was there with you right now?” He allows his eyes to close while he tries to think of his answer. “Where do I even start?”

He decides to change up your view by dropping the camera down in the same way you have yours — blessing you with his point-of-view of his cock. Now that it’s closer, you can see that it’s shining in the low lighting of his bedroom, completely slick with lube. He glides a tight fist up the length, causing the muscles of his stomach to spasm through the upward stroke. “I want to kiss you, feel how soft your skin is… see how you look in that lingerie. I know the picture doesn’t do you justice.”

You’re committed, picking right where you left off by pleasuring yourself. As you roll your fingers over your clit and slip them inside yourself, you realize that you’re even closer now that he’s eliminated the need for your imagination. He’s showing you in real-time how he jerks himself off thinking about you. 

You hear the faint gasp before he continues, “I’d play with your perfect tits, feel your nipples harden against my tongue while I rub over your sensitive clit.” His voice is breathier than it’s ever been from him trying to hold back his moans, “Pull those panties to the side and use my fingers to make you feel so good.” His efforts to keep himself composed have proved fruitless with the amount of liquor in his system. He falls victim to it by what sounds like a whine into the receiver, “I really wish I was there to show you.” 

You’re right there with him, giving yourself away with every ragged breath. “I wish you were here too.”

He sighs, “I can hear you getting close, dove.” Based on how he’s starting to pick up the pace of his strokes, it doesn’t seem like he has long either. “Can you come for me?”

Hearing him ask for it is the final push you need, and all you can focus on is the hushed whimpers and moans he lets slip out as he brings himself to the very edge. You’re seconds behind him, watching as holds his cock perfectly still as the first spurt dribbles down the side and over his knuckles. He sucks in a sharp breath before pushing out a string of grunted curses as the rest of his orgasm hits him with an unexpected force. He shoots across his stomach, painting his abdomen with ropes of his cum. 

The graphic image overrides your brain, acting as the last mental shove into your climax. You burn it into memory as the rush of pleasure pools between your legs and drowns your senses. As you start to come to, you can’t be sure what you said, or what sounds you might have made, but you do know that you’re a breathless mess strewn across your bed. Your mouth is beyond desert dry and the only thing in your head is the pounding of your heartbeat. “Wow.”

He laughs, but it's obvious from how it sounds that the exhaustion is starting to set in. And since he’s in a worse state than you, he is stuck in the same position with the mess he made across his body. “Yeah…that was fun.”

You laugh, keeping the tone of your voice light even though you’re bummed about the thought of hanging up, “Go ahead and clean up.”

He stretches his legs but keeps his hand in the same place on his cock. His response is groggy, revealing that you wouldn't have that much more time with him anyway, “Yeah, I probably should. Goodnight, dove.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

Since your boss allowed you to leave work early today, you decided to walk down to the tattoo shop and visit Josh for a few minutes before heading home. And to your benefit, it’s a warm spring day, making the half-mile walk from the coffee shop a pleasant one. 

With his favorite coffee in one hand, you make the turn around the familiar corner and spot the bold, painted lettering on the shop’s large plate-glass windows. You’re experiencing high school giddiness from knowing you’ll see him within minutes, and it makes your stomach churn wildly with anticipation. 

When you walk in, the expected ding from the doorbell chimes through the shop, alerting the staff of your arrival. There are more people in the lobby than you expect, but Sam is the first one to acknowledge as he discusses jewelry options with a potential client over the glass display case. Glancing over to his right, you don’t recognize the other man behind the counter a few feet away from him, but his features are striking enough to pull your attention for only being a stranger. You can see around the person he’s talking to, spotting his shoulder-length, jet-black curly hair framing his angular face and the black t-shirt that reveals his toned, tattoo-covered arms. 

As you make your way to the staircase, Sam gives you an approving nod before returning to his current conversation. Unlike the other times you’ve been here, the music is booming through the speakers, mixing with the chatter of multiple people as you start to ascend the stairs. 

Once you clear the landing, your eyes bounce around all the activity happening on the second floor, but when you look over to his corner of the room, you see him seated at his station, working away on a tattoo. His client, a young woman around your age if you were to guess, is currently getting a rib piece done from what you can tell at this distance.  She’s stretching out across the same flat table you were on days ago, with her flowing bleached locks billowing beneath her, one arm tucked behind her head with most of her sculpted torso exposed from her tiny, cropped tank being pushed up to right below her breasts. 

She’s beautiful, blonde, perky, and enthusiastic. 

Josh looks good, but there wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind that he would. He’s dressed in his usual casual outfit, wearing one of the standard shop-issued t-shirts and a pair of khakis cuffed at the ankles. His loose curls are swept across his head effortlessly, showing off the fresh touch up to the buzzed sides. It should be you complimenting him. It should be you making him blush and giggle.  

You’re far enough that you can't hear the intimate conversation between them, but you can see Josh throwing back his head from the booming laughter leaving him. He’s comfortable with her, inching just a little closer than the minute before. Her other hand is all over him, those manicured fingers touching across his bare arms as she giggles and bats her lash extensions — like a predator honing in on their next prey. 

He’s too preoccupied to see you in the center of the room, watching him venture into the trap willingly as he tells her his dumb little jokes and collection of his favorite anecdotes. You can only stand frozen in your spot, staring as she whines in a high-pitched voice that’s best described as ‘grating’ to your ears, “Oh my god, Josh. You’re so funny!”

Your stomach turns sour from the sight alone.

You consider turning around and fleeing down the staircase to save face, to hide the embarrassment festering within you because there’s no way you can stroll over there with his stupid coffee in your hand now.

You suddenly feel lost and out of place here. You’re not welcome. You might as well be just another customer strolling through the shop seeking out their next tattoo. Your flight response is what activates, propelling you back into the direction from whence you came, but before you make it to the stairs, Jake working alone at his desk, hyper-focused on drawing one of his designs stops you right in your tracks. It’s enough to make you fight back your initial urge to just leave and decide to take the chance on walking over to him. 

He’s changed things up from his normal long-sleeved button-down, displaying the collection of tattoos that cover his arms by dressing in a faded red t-shirt. With the neckline so loose that it’s stretched out beyond belief, the shirt somehow drapes and fits across him perfectly. 

You step beside him, but choose not to say anything at first for fear of interrupting him.  You silently watch as he swipes his hand across the paper with confidence, leaving bold strokes of black ink in its path.  

If he has any awareness of his surroundings, he would already be in tune with your presence, but you already know him better than that, so his acting like he doesn’t notice you, is blatantly intentional. He’s baited and set the line —effectively making you work for it to see how badly you want his attention — now all he has to do is wait patiently for you to take the first bite. 

His pretending you don’t exist allows you to take in how beautiful he looks today. It’s a graceful, delicate beauty that has otherwise gotten overlooked until now. His long, chestnut hair is tucked behind his left ear, exposing the additional silver hoop through his cartilage and the tiny upside-down black and gray dagger tattooed behind it. You’ve nearly chewed a hole through your bottom lip from anxiety, but you take another daring step closer to him.

 “Oh, hello, dove,” he coos loud enough for you to hear over the music before peeling away from his paper to look into your eyes. The way his satisfying drawl of voice delivers the greeting nearly makes your knees buckle, especially now that you know the real reason behind the pet name. 

“Hi,” you mutter softly while setting the coffee down on his desk. You can’t help but wonder why you’re suddenly shy, bashful even, when you interact with him. 

With an air of casual cockiness, he shifts back in his chair to cross a leg over the other and begins drumming his fingers along the top of his knee. It brings your line of vision to the bands of silver wrapped around them as they catch the light, making you note that this is the first time he’s ever worn rings. You know it’s not based on their aged patina finish and how natural they fit on his fingers like his body has remembered their weight over the years. 

You give in to the temptation and let your eyes drift down his body to his lap now that he’s facing you. He’s wearing a different style of pants than what you’ve seen so far on him, a black, tight-fitting pair of Dickies. He’s cuffed the bottoms today just like his brother, revealing the laces of his leather Doc Marten boots. The dark pants hug his thighs in the best way possible, leaving very little to the imagination.

 He notices the iced coffee you brought right away, but his focus on it doesn’t linger long and he brings his attention to you standing before him. He stares at your fidgeting hands and makes his way up to your eyes and holds on to them, searching for the thoughts until a crooked smile breaks on his face, “What brings you in today?”

You’re showing your cards to him as the indifferent expression on your face begins to falter. There’s an unmistakable amount of tension brewing between you from the last time you had spoken to him. “Just visiting.”

He nods slowly, leaning forward to snatch the coffee off the table, and settles back against the chair. The seconds go by at an excruciatingly slow pace as he spins it in his hand to read the name off the bottom line on the plastic cup. You swallow the lump in your throat as you wait for his inevitable reaction. First, he looks up at you before glancing over to his twin. “I see… and how’s that going so far?”

You dance your fingers along the edge of the desk, studying the clutter of the art supplies across its surface. “I dunno. You tell me. You’re the first one I’ve visited.”

He hums in thought as he takes the first sip from the coffee, effectively claiming it as his own before placing it by his side. He surprises you by reaching out and taking your wrist into his hand, guiding you that much closer to him with a gentle pull. He stares up at you while he begins to massage your palm and down each of your fingers.

For a second your eyes flutter closed and your breath catches in your throat, stopping the chance for a coherent thought to leave your lips. The pressure of his fingers on your skin is sensual, yet deliberate with every touch. He begins to work his way up your arm, but a high-pitched squeal cuts through the bustling noise of the shop, interrupting the moment of tension.

“Oh my god, Josh! You’re so talented! You’re so gonna be my tattoo artist now!”

It’s her. She’s fawning over him, feeding his ego more and more with every praise and empty piece of flattery she throws at him. It’s ridiculous that you’re letting it affect you like this, especially while you flirt away with his twin brother. You’re being a hypocrite, but damn it does it make you feel a certain way to see her touching all over him when you should be the one to do it. 

You can’t hold back the heavy roll of your eyes with the scowl pulling at your features, and how you instantly pull your hand from Jake’s grasp out of discomfort. He takes note of the sudden change in your body language and looks over to the source of the sound. Now that they have his attention, his face contorts into a judging stare — true, ill-concealed disgust. 

He shakes his head in disapproval, “Don’t worry about her, babe.”

“Worry about what?” You huff to hide the fact that you’re bothered and brimming with jealousy, but he sees right through the facade and decides to distract you by running his open hands up the front of your legs. 

He glides his tongue along the sharp edge of his top teeth, teasing you with the sight while he hooks his index fingers through your front belt loops and rubs the pads of his thumbs across the exposed skin, just above the waistband of your jeans. He tugs you forward by the denim loops, making you fall onto his lap. As you tumble onto him, giggles of your own break free, and if you were paying any attention, you would have seen Josh pick his head up and glance over in your direction.  

Holding you by the hips, Jake balances you on top of his legs with the help of your hands resting on his shoulders. You’re close. So close that you can feel the warmth of his skin and breath with every soft exhale. It doesn’t help that the phone call has been corrupting your mind the last few days, and now that you can actually touch him, those thoughts start to get away from you. You breathe him in and notice that he smells exquisite, and expensive from the high-end cologne placed directly on his pulse points.

He soaks in the sight of you through heavy lids while rocking you forward, just enough to give your imagination a taste. “Wanna get outta here?”

The question throws you off given that it’s the middle of the day and the shop is at its busiest. So the casual offer with the tone of his voice that’s playful enough, makes you question his real intentions behind it. “Don’t you have appointments?”

“I have a bit of a break today.” He shrugs, responding matter-of-factly with an absent-minded lick of his lips.

He can’t help but smile waiting for your answer while you think over your decision. If you weren’t so distracted, you might be able to, but their genetic similarities between them are screaming at you. Those dark, full prominent brows that express the slightest change in their moods, the corners of their lips that curl up with the faintest of smiles, the same defined nose, even down to the dimple marking their left cheeks. 

He’s made you go from feeling shy and nervous to wishing you had him in private all to yourself within seconds. You desperately want to kiss him, but you just know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you crossed the threshold. Once you got that taste of him on your tongue, you’d shamelessly rock yourself on his lap without a care in the world that anyone could be watching. 

You clear your throat, pulling yourself from your daydream to entertain the idea of leaving with him, “Where would we go?”

Now that he’s hooked you, that fun smile on his face darkens — turning almost mischievous. “Ahh…see, that’s for you to find out, dove.” 

“Of course it is,” You grumble sarcastically while giving into his mysterious ways before you ease yourself off of his legs to stand on your feet.  Jake follows suit, wincing through a groan of pain as he pushes himself off the chair. He stops to work out the stiffness of his muscles with a long stretch of his arms over his head, giving you a quick view of his stomach from his lifted shirt. 

You stand patiently while he takes a few large sips of the coffee and gathers his phone and keys from the desk. He ushers you toward the stairs, guiding you with a hand placed on the small of your back. The small gesture speaks volumes given the circumstances that have developed over the last few minutes, and though you’ve been trying to ignore them, you chance a look over to Josh’s station.

 Josh is staring right at you, just watching you leave without even offering him a simple hello. It’s the first time you’ve seen that cold, unnerving look being shot across the room at his twin. He’s upset, and you would almost feel guilty if it wasn’t for that girl yanking his attention back to her. 

Jake doesn’t pay him any mind, which you can’t say surprises you. He’s been given the opportunity to stoke the embers of Josh’s jealousy, and that’s not something he’s willing to pass up.

You get to the bottom of the stairs and just when you think he’s gonna walk to the front door of the shop, he takes you by the hand and brings you behind the front counter. Sam’s still in his designated spot, unpacking boxes of jewelry to display in the expansive glass case. He looks up from his task once he notices you and gives another passing nod, but whips his head back for a double take when he sees that you’re with Jake instead of Josh. 

Before Sam can utter a single syllable, Jake calls over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in an hour.” Jake doesn’t give him a chance to respond, and he continues to pull you through the privacy curtain to the hallway.

It feels like you’re crossing into a forbidden area not meant for you, but you try to absorb all the details the best you can anyway. The first room on your left appears to be the room Sam uses for piercing based on the equipment and setup inside. Directly across the hall from it is a bathroom, followed by a small office and a storage closet. The same man from when you first walked into the shop scoots past the both of you, sends a wink, and slaps Jake’s shoulder. “Have fun, you two.”

You follow Jake through the hallway until you come to the back room area. He walks up to a row of old, spray-painted lockers that are mounted to the side of the wall next to the door. “Who was that?”

“Danny.” He answers with his back turned to you and pulls a leather jacket from one of the hooks holding a variety of clothes. He peers over his shoulder to gauge your demeanor. “Don’t tell me you got eyes on him, too.”

You cross your arms and laugh, “I wouldn’t want to humble that ego of yours.” He shakes his head and grabs not one, but two helmets, one glossy white and the other matte black, from a different set of mounted hooks. “What are those for?”

“I’ll show you.”

He takes the lead out the back door, past the dumpster, and out to a small parking lot behind the building — big enough to hold three spaces. You spot and instantly recognize the red, older Camry that was in their driveway when you were at their house last. And next to Josh’s beater, is a motorcycle. 

The last thing you would call yourself is an expert on the topic, but it looks like a classic, vintage style of bike. It’s not big and bulky like what you’ve seen with massive Harley motorcycles, but it’s also not a sleek, modern sport bike either. You would guess that it fits somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. 

You take a few steps closer to it, shaking your head with a grin spreading across your face.“Why am I not surprised?”

He sets the helmets down on the hood of Josh’s car, but it’s obvious he’s been waiting for your reaction from how his ears perk up. “You ride?”

“No, I mean, I’m not surprised that you have a bike,” you explain. While you’re learning new things about the man every day, this is something that just seems fitting. You continue to stare at it, admiring a beauty that you don’t fully understand yet. “It makes sense.”

With the bike between you, you watch as he pulls his hair back into a low bun and secures it with an elastic from his wrist.“It does? How so?”

You shrug, but his eyes are locked onto you, making you bite at your lip. “I don’t know…you seem like the adrenaline junkie type. Always pushing the limit. That kind of thing.”

He’s amused by your words and shows a soft smile on his lips before pulling the white helmet off the car and walking toward you. “Interesting.”

You know he’ll eventually win, but you can’t make the game too easy for him. With the steps he takes around the bike, you take one back and motion to his hand. “You even got the spare helmet and everything. How often do you offer these kinds of rides?”

He stops in his tracks and scoffs, “Hey, I’m not the one with some random woman fucking me with her eyes right now. No need to get territorial with me, love.” 

It was an expertly placed jab that throws you right back into reality. Josh had been pushed to the sidelines and now he exists in the forefront of your mind thanks to Jake’s little quippy remark. He’s right though. You’ve experienced enough jealousy for the day, and it doesn’t do you any good to carry it over to him. 

He tries handing you the helmet, but you cross your arms and turn your head away from him.  You’re testing him with your attitude, making him push out a frustrated sigh as he takes another step. He’s close enough now that the helmet is pressing up against your stomach. “I am not about to risk having your head crack open on the pavement like an egg because you wanna be a smartass. So either put it on and listen, or go back inside and mope. Your choice.”

“Someone’s bossy today.” You reach for the helmet, but he jerks it away before you can grab it.

“There are a few rules.” His voice is stern with a new serious tone. While looking directly into your eyes and holding out his index finger to emphasize the point, he instructs, “First, you always hold onto me. No exceptions. And I don’t mean those soft little hugs and holding on to only my shirt. I mean you fucking hold onto me when we’re moving.” He takes the helmet and places it at the crown of your head and with a bit of effort, he’s able to slide it on comfortably. It’s a snug fit around your face, and the outside sounds are instantly muffled. He flips the interior and exterior visor up by pressing a button on the side of the helmet. “Hey. Try to be aware of your surroundings, but make sure to keep your weight steady with me, especially when you turn your head to look around.”

He takes the leather jacket and gestures to your arms so he can put it on you. “The bike will almost turn on its own.” His jacket hugs your curves better than both of you anticipated, making him smile. He zips it up and then fastens the chin strap of your helmet as he continues, “So keeping that balance with me is important. It’s really all about the hips, so I need you to squeeze your legs tight and lean forward into my back.”

You nod slowly as you take in the bits of information, feeling a little clumsy and disoriented due to the additional weight on your head. After he tugs at the jacket in different spots on your body to inspect the fit, he taps the top of your helmet. “Comfortable?”

“I think so,” you laugh nervously as you adjust to his leather wrapped around your skin. It’s soft, made of rich, genuine leather that’s held the shape of his body and kept his scent within its worn material. Despite the warm, sunny day, you forgo questioning the need for it, because in all honesty, just having the feeling of something that belongs to him on your skin is enough of a reason. 

“Ready to take a ride with me, dove?” He asks and finds the answer from the smile in your eyes since the bottom half of your face is covered by the interior of the helmet. He holds that gaze and shoots you a wink while simultaneously blowing a teasing kiss. He seals the flirty moment with a snap of his gum between his teeth and flips your visor down with the flick of his fingers. 

Now satisfied that you’re set in the protective gear, he wiggles his helmet onto his head, face disappearing into the matte-black protective shell. You watch as he transforms into this separate world, taking on another level of confidence and you’re quick to note all the intricate details from this side of him. After he secures his chin strap, he retrieves two pairs of gloves from the hidden seat compartment and hands you the extras. 

He mounts the bike and motions to you to get on. The nerves are starting to set in, causing your legs to start taking on the qualities of Jello. You brace yourself on his shoulders and swing a leg over the back to slide into place. He patiently waits for you to get into position on the seat and find the spokes to put your feet on. You think you have it, but you’re startled when he reaches back and hooks his hands behind both of your knees, and pulls you closer. 

He goes through the process of putting on his gloves, doing those final adjustments to his helmet, and finally starts the motorcycle. Its engine roars to life and mellows out to a vibrational purr between your legs. 

“You good?” He shouts back at you, but most of the volume of his voice is muffled through the helmet. You answer by wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a tight squeeze. He rubs your knee in response and gives it a comforting pat before driving out of the parking lot. 

You’re scared. You won’t deny it. Nothing is holding you on except for the strength of your arms and legs. As much as you’re trying to hide it from him, he knows that you’re working through the fear, and stays at a reasonable speed, taking the turns of his route carefully until you get accustomed to the feel of the bike. This level of exposure is nothing like what you’ve experienced before. These same streets you drive daily feel new, and with every shift of a new gear, a wave of adrenaline surges through your veins.

It’s like a rollercoaster, just more dangerous. 

You look around at the buildings to guess where he might be taking you until you hear that familiar Bluetooth pairing chime inside your helmet. At first, you think you might’ve imagined it, but the sound is immediately followed by Jake’s smooth voice cracking through the headpiece, “You better hold me a bit tighter, love.” You startle from the unexpected sound, making him chuckle, “I promise I won’t bite that hard.”

He stops at a red light, giving you the chance to relax enough and mutter a curse. “You’re a dick.”

That laugh of his — so delicately woven within the static of the microphone as it fills your head. “Oh come on! You’re having fun. Don’t lie to me.”

You hope he doesn’t have a camera inside the helmet to catch your dramatic eye roll. You’re sulking, maybe due to the fact you’re a little embarrassed he had one up on you this entire time. “You could’ve told me about the helmet.”

While balancing the combined weight of the bike and both of your bodies on his foot, he reaches back and rubs your outer thigh. “And risk not being able to hear all those little whimpers you’re making? Not a chance.”

That flusters you, making the grip loosen around his midsection. He takes your hands, gives a reassuring squeeze and he places them back in their spot before taking off when the light finally changes. 

The position you’re holding is a bit awkward at first due to the urge to slide in as close as possible, but after a few minutes of riding, it becomes natural. You eventually take in the scene, watching the cars pass by as he rides between the lanes of traffic. 

“So where are you taking me?”

He chuckles before sending the song of his sigh into your earpiece, “You like tacos?” 

The randomness of the question makes you giggle. “Yeah, I like tacos.”

“Good. I know the perfect spot.”

He pulls the bike into a mostly-empty parking lot of what looks like an abandoned strip mall. Looking around, you spot the taco truck set up at the far end and a few picnic tables scattered in a grassy area off to the side. 

He kills the engine, pulls off his gloves, and helps dismount the bike. “This is the hot spot?”

“I can feel your judgment already. Don’t knock a food truck until you try it, okay?”

After placing your order, you follow him out to the picnic tables while you wait for your food. He sets his helmet down and climbs onto the wooden table with his feet resting on the bench. You watch him dig out a fresh pack of cigarettes and tap the box against his palm. He peels the plastic wrapper off, flips the top open, and grasps the filter of one between his lips. 

“The gum wasn’t cutting it?” You tease as you approach him and set your helmet beside his. 

He freezes with the open Zippo in hand and the paper of the cigarette sticking to his bottom lip, and looks up at you just as he’s about to light it. A different emotion flashes before you, that guilty look of being caught red-handed. It transforms into a nearly undetectable smirk while he flicks the lighter, brings the flame to the end of the cigarette, and pulls in a satisfying drag that hollows out his cheeks, “Studying my bad habits?”

“That, or maybe you’re just more predictable than you think, Jacob.”

His eyes narrow with the use of his full name. “Predictable? That’s a new one.”

A random surge of confidence compels you to pluck the burning cigarette from between his fingers and bring it up to your lips. You’ve been to enough parties and social situations throughout the years to be familiar with it enough to not act clueless. Even so, the way he’s looking at you causes your hands to shake and for you to cast your eyes elsewhere.

“Yeah.” You pause to gesture with the cigarette in your hand with a sassy click of your tongue. “This whole dark and mysterious bad-boy thing is nothing but a front.”

He leans forward with his elbows propped on his knees to watch you pull in a drag of your own, and his expression seems amused to say the least. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself, doll.”

It’s full-bodied and harsh on your tongue from holding it in your mouth. To impress him and not make an ass out of yourself, you let your bottom lip fall open so you can push the smoke with your tongue to inhale through your nose. You fight the itching urge to cough as you blow what’s left out of your lungs into the air. While exuding the same energy of a best friend’s cooler, older brother, he sees right through the little trick you’ve learned years ago. 

Biting back that cocky grin that’s twisting his lips, he takes your wrist and guides your hand slowly up to his mouth. You feel his lips brush ever-so-carefully across your palm before he wraps them around the filter stuck between your fingers. 

He mimics the same smoke trick you had done but with the natural ease of being an actual smoker. You try to stay calm and collected while you swallow back the swell of nausea and light-headedness from the rush of nicotine into your system.

“You good?” He asks, blowing the smoky exhale out from the corner of his mouth.

You nod, grunting through the burning sensation eating away deep within your throat. Thankfully, your order being called out from the window of the truck saves you at the moment. You bolt to the window, leaving him at his spot on the table.  

Everything is piping hot and made fresh to order with the most authentic ingredients you’ve ever seen. Jake is quick to pour the plastic ramekin of hot sauce across his order of tacos and starts to devour one of them before you can even finish unwrapping your food from the foil. 

He’s truly lost in the experience with eyes rolling back while a stream of bright-orange juices from his taco drip down his chin before he has the chance to wipe it clean. “These always hit the spot.”

“How did you find this place?”

He wipes a napkin across his mouth before answering, “Years ago I did a tattoo for one of the owners during a convention and he bought us some of his food the next day for lunch. The guys and I have been stopping by here ever since.”

It’s hard not to be distracted by his bare arms, the way the sleeves of his tattoos move with every flex of his muscles. It would take you hours to examine each piece of inked artwork, but he’s already catching on to you staring at him. You break your eyes away to look off into the distance, making a mental note of the place for the future. “I’ll have to come by here again.”

He shoves the rest of his taco into his mouth, mumbling around it, “Are we gonna talk about it, or just have small talk about the food?”

You drop your eyes to your styrofoam tray of food in front of you. “Talk about what?”

He wipes his mouth and fingers clean with another paper napkin. “Ya’ know, about what happened back at the shop.”

It was naive to hope that Jake wouldn’t eventually bring it up and think it was something that could have been easily forgotten. “Nothing happened.”

He scoffs a harsh laugh, “Right. And that’s why you sulked and almost took off without saying anything?” You stay silent and take another bite while still avoiding eye contact. “Are you gonna talk to him?”

He’s putting you on the spot and you haven’t even had the chance to process your feelings about it, let alone give him any sort of thought-out answer. “About what exactly?”

“That what he did bothers you,” he says flatly before taking a bite of his second taco. 

You push the helping of rice around on the tray. “How can I? Go up to him and say ‘Hey, Josh, I don’t want you to sleep with anyone else even though I’m also fucking your brother’?  You do know that sounds absolutely insane, Jake?”

He agrees with an empathetic lift of his brows and shrugs his shoulders while he finishes the second taco. “Maybe.”

“And why do you care anyway?” You hiss at him with far more attitude than you realize, making him the target of your frustration. “Doesn’t that go against your own…motives?”

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth from the heat of the hot sauce before letting out an amused chuckle, “You act like I have this grand evil plan, dove. I don’t really care what’s happening between you and Josh. Now granted, I can’t say I thoroughly enjoy sharing you with him, but I do think you might be a little hard on yourself with this one.” 

You finally look up, prompting him to meet your weak gaze. You study him, searching for what his true intentions in this conversation are. “I think it would just make things worse.”

Something washes over his stoic expression, making him shift his weight on the seat of the picnic table to straighten out his posture. He starts to fidget with the silver skull ring on his left ring finger, spinning it around as if he’s suddenly feeling apprehensive. “Would you be this upset if it was me instead of him?”

Was that jealousy? You watch him closely, noting the stiff, slightly-annoyed movements of hands picking up his last taco before he takes a bite. “What do you mean?”

He looks directly at you, causing the afternoon sunlight to catch his deep-brown eyes, turning them into a rich-golden toffee.“What if I was the one sleeping around with someone else?”

The question leaves your mouth before you have a chance to think it through, “Are you?!”

Just like that, you reveal a little more than you intend to. Your reaction was panicked and insecure when it should have been casual and collected. Now that he knows more about where you stand, that little smirk of his slowly forms on his lips. You can kiss the thought of getting an answer from him goodbye because unlike the phone call the other night, he’s sober at this moment. Your chance of pulling out any information that’s being locked away in that brain of his is nonexistent. 

As you both finish up eating your lunch, he can’t ward off the reality that it’s time for him to take you back to the shop. However, you’re relieved to find that the second time mounting the bike is a bit more graceful than the first, and most of the nervousness you felt, in the beginning, is quickly dissipating the more time you spend with him. He must sense your comfort level because he’s now splitting between lanes of traffic and becoming a little more daring with his speed than he did initially. 

From what you can remember, the ride back to the shop isn’t a long one, and regardless of whatever tension lives between the two of you, you feel safe with him. It doesn’t take long for you to sway effortlessly along with him and get a true sense of how the bike moves on the road. You fall back into your thoughts, wishing that you can feel the soft fabric of his t-shirt against your cheek instead of the helmet getting in your way or the thick material of the gloves covering your fingers. Despite your senses being restricted by the protective gear, it doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his midsection. 

That secure hold on him becomes exploratory as you feel up and down his stomach, over his slender hips, and eventually lower onto his lap. When he stops at the next red light, you feel bold enough to feel across the tops of his thighs. You squeeze your legs around him even tighter than before, molding yourself against his body, and he can’t hide the change in his breathing as it’s picked up through the microphone of the intercom. You look over his shoulder to see him tapping his fingers impatiently on the clutch while your hands continue to roam over his legs. You become mesmerized by that alone, watching the tendons and muscles of his forearm move with each flex of his fingers on the clutch lever.

Through the gloves and the material of his pants, you feel something hard when you graze your hand back up his leg, which makes him groan and squirm against the seat. You bite into your smile and decide to do it again, but this time grabbing him with more purpose than before. 

There’s no mistaking his erection when a low growl crackles through your earpiece. He grabs your wrist, stopping the movements of your hand on his lap while giving you the stern warning, “You better behave yourself.”

You fight against the hold he has on you, hooking your fingers around his inner thigh. Making sure to keep your voice innocent, yet bratty, you ask, “And if I don’t?” 

He cocks his head to the side as if to look back at you, and you can feel his leg bouncing while you continue to rub him through his pants. You swear he’s leaning backward into your embrace, but before he can scold you or utter a single word, a car’s horn honks from behind you, startling you both. 

The bike acts like it’s suddenly gained consciousness and bucks forward a few inches before the engine cuts itself off. It takes you a second to understand what’s happened until you come to realize that he’s stalled it.

 “Fuck!” He curses harshly while rushing to restart the bike with the looming pressure building from the line of cars behind him. He manages to bring his motorcycle back to life easily, and the relief of finally passing through the clear intersection washes over him. “That was fucking embarrassing,” he mumbles under his breath. 

Your hands find their way back to his stomach, and you give him a reassuring squeeze even if your tone is slightly patronizing. “It’s okay. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

He accepts your gesture with a giggle as he pats your hand that’s resting just above his navel. “If you do, I might have to kill you.”

Unfortunately, for the remainder of the ride, Jake proves to not be much of a conversationalist and fills the time by playing music through the helmets instead of chatting with you. You try not to let it bother you, but then you’re thrown when he pulls the bike into an open parking space in front of the shop, instead of his designated spot in the back. 

You step into the shop for the second time today but with Jake by your side. You’re greeted by the same faces, but now with the addition of Josh and the woman he was tattooing when you left. She’s standing at the counter, leaning over so much that her ass sticks out, touching his arm while he works on closing out her payment. 

“We should really get a drink sometime,” she offers, shamelessly making her move without caring that it’s in front of an audience. 

Josh smiles, and you can see the blush pink ending the apples of his cheeks. “Yeah, maybe.”

You’re not exactly sure where this feeling is coming from. You wouldn’t consider yourself an overly jealous or confrontational type of person. But just to hear her voice, to see her reach out and touch him the way she is —  it’s making you act irrationally. What you should do is remain calm, say your goodbyes to the guys, and head home for the rest of the day. 

But you don’t.

That impulse that’s been simmering within yourself like an unattended pot finally boils over, causing you to take Jake’s hand in yours. There’s a powerful determination in your strides as you drag him over to the front counter. You’re the one taking the lead, using the same path he had used with you when you left the shop. It feels as though time is slowing down like you were trapped in that cliche scene of a movie. As you push past Josh and his client, you pretend he’s simply a stranger, that the chemistry and moments shared between you are figments of his imagination.

She simply scoffs and scoots out of your way while Josh freezes in place, stuck staring at you with this incredulous look of shock. His expression instantly sours with anger when Jake steps with you, but you don’t bother with an explanation as you make your way to the back hallway. You want your actions to make a point for you. 

Despite his brother’s sudden change in mood, Jake doesn’t resist in the slightest as you yank him down the hall. You step into the small office with him in tow, spin dramatically on your heels, and with your hands placed firmly on his chest, you shove him against the back of the door hard enough for it to slam shut with a thud. 

You’re inches away from his face, breathing heavily while your heart pounds wildly within your chest. You’ve pulled that trigger, now all that’s left is to follow through with your plan. You know it will end poorly, but his divine scent, the warmth of his body through his t-shirt, and the throaty sound of his laugh divert your attention from that fact while simultaneously causing the walls of your confidence to crumble. 

“Doesn’t bother you, huh?” He asks through an airy giggle while he wraps his fingers around your wrist and looks down at you through sleepy lids with that smug, feline smile appearing on his mouth. 

“Shut up.” You swallow thickly, fixating solely on his lips that he’s wetting with the tip of his tongue. You don’t give yourself the chance to overthink what’s happening before your mouth comes crashing down on him. The kiss you give him is not gentle, graceful, or even teasing. It’s walking along the lines of desperate, demanding at best as you shove your tongue into his mouth in the need to taste him. 

He welcomes you with a low groan, and his hand finds your cheek to pull you in closer. Whatever this is, it’s impulsive and rushed —  far from the scene he painted on that phone call. You’re both sweaty and uncomfortable from being crammed in this tiny office, but you don’t care, and neither does he, given how his tongue is sliding across yours. As he cradles your cheek, you struggle to keep your hands in one spot for longer than a second. They leave the nape of his neck to massage across his chest until they grasp onto the fabric on his t-shirt in clenched fists. 

While he takes his time savoring the kiss, you’re in a frantic need, borderline clawing at the button and zipper of his jeans. You impatiently huff, “Would you just fuck me already?”

Without warning, he grabs both of your wrists, flips both of you around, and knocks you up against the door. Before you can react and utter a single word, he snatches your throat in the blink of an eye, claiming the air from your lungs. The hold he has on you is controlled, but gentle. He keeps you still, taking precious seconds to examine all the intricate details while he breathes you in. You try to watch him through your lashes, but you’re too distracted by the silver bands of his rings pressing into the soft flesh of your neck with the calculated squeeze of his fingers. 

“If you want to use me to make him jealous, you better be ready for it, dove,” He croons just above a whisper, the breath of his voice fanning across your parted lips — the sound of it having the richness of freshly-pulled espresso, dark and intense.

If you’re the vixen, he’s the wolf — giving you that false sense of security while you’ve been prancing around thinking you’ve had control, that he’s softened up to you. But in reality, you’ve been distracted this entire time while he prowls that clearing, waiting for the perfect moment to change everything for you.  

That addicting, devilish smile flashes before you. “Are you?”

His eyes seem to darken, pupils blown with desire as they drift down to your lips. You nod, whispering a faint, “Yes.”

If you were paying attention, you would have heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, but you didn’t. The feeling of the doorknob turning and the door being pushed open is what pulls you out of your trance. 

Jake throws an open hand to the door and shoves it closed with a harsher thud than you did moments ago. He flips the lock before the other person has the chance to push it open again. When they realize this with a second attempt, they proceed to bang their fist on the other side of the door. 

“Are you fucking serious?!” A muffled, angry voice calls out while giving one final push to the door.

It’s Josh.

Jake doesn’t seem bothered by the jarring interruption in the slightest, so little in fact that he starts to place kisses on your neck.

You push against his chest enough to break the contact of his lips to your skin. “He sounds mad, Jake”

He presents a cocky smile to you, but his eyes are focusing on your lips while his thumb sweeps across them. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You can’t say you were expecting Josh’s confrontation, but it makes you question your motives, and with that, guilt and worry jump on the chance to weasel their way into your mind, causing a shift in your disposition. “Yeah…but—“

He takes your chin in his hand and carefully tilts your head up so you’re looking at him directly. He looks down at you, peering through heavy lids in admiration. Now that he has your full attention, he coos with a certain assurance, “Hey, don’t get in your head about it. He’ll be pissy for a bit, but he’ll get over it.”

You scoff dramatically, breaking free from his loose grasp. He dips his head back to its place in the crook of your neck, letting out a deep sigh, “He can’t hold a grudge to save his life.” While your fingers weave into his hair, he peppers your shoulder with kisses, mumbling through each one, “Especially with you.” 

You’ve been holding a breath in your chest despite the aching feeling it gives you, but you push it out the second he sinks his teeth into the flesh which sends a chill down the length of your spine. He squeezes a handful of your ass, giving himself the ability to grind himself against your hip. You groan at the feeling of his erection pressing into you, making him smile against your skin before he teases, “Besides, I believe that you’ll find ways to make it up to him.”

You lean against the door while you try to collect your thoughts. Even though you’re swimming in feelings and emotions, you’re still clear-headed enough to be irritable toward Josh. “Yeah, well, he should be finding ways to make it up to me.”

Your response makes him laugh and retreat from your neck, but only to hover his lips over yours, “There’s my girl.”

He seems pleased and releases his hand from around your throat and balances his weight on his other arm against the door. He’s hovering above you, boxing you in with his arms against the door. The touch of his lips is a blessing and a curse as he presses them into the delicate skin, that tender spot right below your ear. You’re at his mercy, and you both know it.  

He pops open the button of your jeans with ease and slips his hand under the denim and the fabric of your panties. You try to spread your legs for him in the standing position, but he’d already nestled in the heat between your thighs. To your surprise, he doesn’t make you beg this time, and slips his middle finger through your folds, coating himself in the building wetness of your arousal. 

“Fuck,” you moan louder than expected as you buck into the palm of his hand, grasping onto his wrist that’s half-buried in the front of your pants. You instinctively clench your legs around him, but his fingers glide over you despite the restrictions. 

“Little worked up?” He pants, the heat of his breath clinging to your neck. You react by digging your nails into the flesh of his arm, but he’s already busy circling your clit with the calloused pad of his finger. 

“Fuck you,” you say in a breathy sigh, but the insult is as empty as your mind is right now. The only thought existing in the brain fog is your need to satiate the craving for him, and you’ve decided you’re not leaving until you do. 

He repositions slightly, pinning you firmly against the door as he braces himself. He hums and gives a nip to your jaw “Oh don’t worry, dove. You’ll get to.”

He adds his index finger, flicking the bundle of nerves with the lightest of touches.

You whine out, and your legs start to shake in fatigue from holding yourself against the door. He rolls his hips against you in search of friction, giving away that he’s been wanting this just as badly. “You been thinking about me, dove? Playing with this pretty little cunt pretending it’s me doing it?”

You whimper an incoherent answer. He slips his middle finger through your slick until it's right at your entrance. Even he’s surprised with how easily his finger glides inside you. ‘Fuck, you’re so wet. Did the bike feel good, sweetheart?” He curls it inside while his thumb works your clit, working off the reactions of your body beneath him. “He can’t do that for you, can he?”

He could be speaking an entirely different language to you and it wouldn’t matter at this moment. Every word from his mouth sounds more distorted than the last as that heat builds between your trembling legs. With how close you are, you can only writhe and claw at his arm, responding to him with pathetic whimpers and moans. 

He adds a second finger, stretching you out that much more, and starts to pump them inside you with however much your jeans allow. “You know he’s out there right now. Wishing he could fuck you…feel you like this.”

You cry out his name and you put no effort in keeping your voice low and quiet. You’ve been holding onto him this entire time, and now you have most of his t\shirt balled in your fists to ground yourself to him. He’s intertwined with you, rocking his waist with yours as you climb to the tipping point of your release. He’s so close that the bridge of his nose is digging into the side of your cheek, but you can’t be bothered to care about the sting the pressure causes. You want it, you need him to lose himself with you. 

You’re rapidly approaching your peak, and there’s no question that he can feel you tighten and flutter around him. He pushes a growl from his throat against the shell of your ear, “There you go, give it all to me. I know you’re close, dove.” He drags his swollen lips down the column of your neck while his fingers sweep that special spot inside you. “She needs me so badly.” 

As if he’s yanked the threads of your composure with the simple demand, you unravel completely. He holds you tightly, riding the waves of your orgasm as you shake uncontrollably against his hand.

After giving you a minute to come down from your high, he pulls his hand from your jeans and rests it on your hip while he catches his breath. You release your hold on the back of his shirt and let your fingers wander down the length of his body until you find what you’re searching for. You’re pleased to know that he’s still just as hard as he was, throbbing away against your palm.

You take the initiative by grabbing his hips and sliding down with your back to the door until you’re balanced on your knees. Your confidence always falters when you see him, but you can’t resist the temptation to look up. 

The image of him above you takes your breath away. You watch his chest heave with every breath pushing past his parted lips while he braces his weight against the door on an extended arm. His long hair has come loose from his bun and is now falling around his face, some of it even clinging to the sweat that has collected on his cheeks and forehead. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, but his surprise shows on his raised brows when he sees your hands meet at the button of his pants. 

You watch him process what’s about to happen and the absentminded lick across his lips before they spread wide into a full grin. He brings his other hand to rest on the crown of your head before his fingers slip through your hair. 

The way his dull nails scratch across your scalp is almost enough to distract you, but you’re determined. You make quick work of his button and zipper, opening the front of his pants enough so you can pull his cock free. The noise he makes the second you have him in your hand is a sound you wish you could replay forever. He’s heavy and thick in your grasp — his skin is hot to the touch, tacky against your fingers as you slowly stroke him. 

He suddenly tugs at your hair by the roots, yanking your attention back up to him. “Just know you’re not fooling me, sweetheart.” The stinging sensation with the authority in his voice makes you ache for him even more. He relaxes his grip on your hair for a more affectionate touch, one that one might use for a pet. “Acting all innocent…but here you are hungry for my cock like the pretty little whore you are.”

You squeeze your fingers around the base, making him hum from your choice of answer.  You wish you had all the time in the world to tease him, to edge him slowly until he is the one begging. You don’t. Since you’re on borrowed time as it is, you bring him to your lips and lick around the head of his cock before gliding him over your flattened tongue. He shudders at the warm, wet feeling, and his fingers curl involuntarily against your scalp. 

You quickly find your rhythm, bobbing on him while you use your hand for what your lips can’t reach. The saltiness of his sweat lingers on your tongue and the natural scent of his body floods your mind — adding to the impulsiveness of your decisions. His splayed fingers slide to the back of your head so he can push himself even deeper. You take him without complaint, letting his cock hit the back of your throat. 

You gag around him almost instantly, so forcefully that you have to pull away with just a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock. The tears welling in your eyes have clouded your vision, but you hear him hum in approval, “That’s it, baby girl.”

Acting on his praise, you wrap your lips around him once again. Your movements and techniques are sloppy and uncoordinated, but you find that only seems to turn him on even more. The messier you are with his cock in your mouth and the more depraved you look on your knees, the closer he gets. 

Through your wet lashes, you see that his eyes are clamped shut in what looks like a grimace of pain, but you know that it’s far from it. You also note how his mouth hangs open while tiny moans and whispered curses escape freely. He’s somewhere else in his mind, fighting the temptation to let go completely into the back of your throat. He’s been allowing you to take the lead as long as he can, but he’s losing the battle of self-control and gives in by pressing the heel of his palm to your forehead and guiding your head to the back of the door. 

He finally takes that control, and with each thrust into your mouth, he pushes the back of your head into the wood just a bit more. The act isn’t painful, but it’s far from comfortable. You’re greedy for the praise, for the lewd sounds he makes, for the reactions of his body from how good you feel. You want to keep going but the muscles of your legs are starting to strain with fatigue and your jaw is starting to ache past the point of being bearable.

You reach up to tap his hand and he instantly releases his grip on your hair and withdraws himself from your mouth. If you were him, you would see your makeup has smeared down your cheeks, your red, swollen lips and chin glistening with your drool, and that glazed, already fucked-out look in your eyes.

“Jake,” you try to speak, but his name barely comes out as a hoarse whisper.

He just stares at you with a blank expression on his face, and for a second you worry that he didn’t hear you until he eventually mumbles out, “Huh?”

“I need you.”

He nods and reaches down to hook his hands under your arms, helping you up off the floor. You don’t have to balance your weight for long because he spins you both again and guides you to the desk behind you. In one fluid motion, he tugs your jeans and underwear down your legs and lifts you onto the top of the desk.

He hooks his hands around the backs of your knees and pulls you forward to the very edge before wrapping your legs around his waist. Everything is happening faster than you can process, but what you can do is bring his lips to yours for a kiss.

With his cock in hand, he glides himself through your folds to coat himself in your arousal. He holds himself at your entrance, waiting for your permission and the anticipation nearly kills you, but all he wants is to hear how badly you need it. 

“Jake…please.” Your desperate plea tumbles into his mouth through your kiss. 

He smiles against your lips as he rolls his hips forward, nudging the head of his cock into your waiting cunt. He pulls himself out, only to push all the way to the hilt in a single thrust. However, he’s not done dragging this out, because now that he’s fully inside you, right where you want him to be, he slowly withdraws — so slowly that it’s borderline torture. 

While you groan in protest, he’s looking down, watching you tense and tighten around his cock in hopes of keeping him close. “Fuck, you take me so well,” He grunts before snapping his hips forward, and because you’ve adjusted to his size, he glides back into you with ease. 

As much as you love the idea of him watching himself fuck you, you need him close. You bring him flush against you with your legs locked around him in a vice-grip hold. He stalls his movements, but he makes up for it by sweeping the hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear so he can whisper, “You look prettier with me inside you.”

The thought of arguing with him on that fact crosses your mind, but this is where his sweet affection ends. He’s done with the sensual teasing and decides to set a very different pace for himself. You make the note to consider yourself lucky up until this point, because now you’re struggling to keep your sounds discreet. 

A forceful thrust of his cock against your cervix causes a yelp to break free and his hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries. He chuckles with a shake of his head, but it's lazy and breathy while he continues to fuck you, “You gotta be quiet. There are still people here.” 

His hands have been everywhere on you — around the nape of your neck, on your hips, across your back, and almost every inch of your legs. He settles on your throat once more, but this time making the point to squeeze his fingers into the flesh. “Whose pussy is this? Hmm? Tell me.”

You’re becoming more light-headed by the second, but you’re eager to give him the answer he desires, “Yours.”

While he’s been just shy of being rough with you, his rhythm slows enough so he can ask, “Who? I don’t think I heard a name, dove.”

“Yours, Jake! Yours!”

Satisfied with your answer, he lets go of your neck to brush his knuckles along your jaw. “That’s right. Good girl.” Hearing him calling you ‘good girl’ will never cease to make you melt, so there’s nothing that can stop you from letting your head fall against his. “Don’t forget that she’s mine.”

The slip of his possessiveness only fuels your desire. It should have you running the other direction, but here you are wanting him to claim you — to take what he deems rightfully his.

His thrusts give him away before his words do. His panting breath fans across your cheek with every exhale, “I’m so close. How bad do you want it?”

You know exactly what he means, and you don’t hesitate to beg him for it, “Bad. Pl-please, Jake. Come inside me, please.”

The sweet, pitchy sound of your request causes him to falter. “Oh fuck, baby. You want me to fill you up?” The words are broken up between thrusts and the sharp inhale of breath through clenched teeth. “Mark her as mine?”

While he’s been holding out as long as he could, the final few pumps buried deep inside you force him to succumb to his release. He gives you what you’re so desperate for —  the addicting warmth of his cum filling you with every heavy pulse and twitch of his cock. 

He stays perfectly still wrapped in your embrace to soak up the moment and take in the feeling of your pussy spasming around his softening cock. You’re not sure how much time passes until he slides out of you and tucks himself back into his pants while admiring the mess he’s left between your legs.“What a beautiful sight.”

Just when you think it’s all over, his fingers dance along your inner thigh. “How’s it feel? Me dripping out of you like this?”

You’re not sure what to say. If you were coherent in any capacity, you still might not have anything to say. 

He gladly accepts your listless state and the silence as the best answer. He rolls his thumb over your swollen, over-stimulated clit that’s covered in his cum, making you squirm from the touch. He clicks his tongue, but doesn’t pull his hand away, “She can’t even hold it all in, poor thing.” 

You say his name again as a warning, but in reality, it’s a weak lie. If it was up to you, he would never stop touching you if you could help it. You just can’t say you expected him to shove his fingers inside you again. 

It’s only for a brief moment and then they are gone, leaving you empty. You stare at him in pure disbelief as he brings those same, wet fingers to his mouth and wipes them across his tongue. He leans forward to kiss you, making sure to share whatever he licked off. “Taste that? That’s us and don’t you ever fucking forget it.”

You’re left speechless, and when he realizes you won’t answer him, he asks a follow-up question with more deliberation, “Do you understand me?”

You nod despite your sweaty face sticking to the side of his. “Yes, Jake.”

He hums to himself, “I had a feeling you were going to be a good listener.”

TAGLIST:

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[darknight3904]

The Dress

Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Asgard 1971 A.D. (Thor 26, Loki 26, Astri 24)  

   "I think she'll wear green, brother," Thor said 

   "Why does it matter what she wears?" Loki asked dismissively 

Thor smiled knowingly at his younger brother who was sipping at his wine pretending not to hide his face in his beverage. 

   "Oh, it does not. Not to me at least. The last time she wore green I thought your eyes were going to pop out of your head." Thor teased

 

Thor's words continued to bounce around in Loki's head all day and into the night. He hadn't seen much of Astri today since she was sparring with Sif and then practicing some new magic technique with his mother. They hadn't had lessons together in years after she and Loki got in a fight which ended in Frigga's favorite vase breaking and Loki's ego feeling rather bruised when Astri refused to talk to him for a week. He hadn't meant to antagonize her but his jealousy got the better of him and after she had been able to successfully multiply herself faster than him he had let out a string of insults which ended after he brought up her mother and father. Astri had shot him across his mother's chambers so fast that he barely had time to blink. 

   "Say another word, Loki and I'll toss you from the balcony next." Astri's voice was dripping in malice as her hands were still glowing their soft blue hue her magic put out.

   "I'd like to see you try," Loki had quickly quipped back righting himself while Frigga demanded they cease their actions at once 

Astri's hands had glowed once more and this time he went to the other side of the room and into his mother's favorite vase, a gift from his father when they married. 

Loki tossed and turned now in his bed, wishing he had been at whatever lesson his mother had been teaching today. No, it wasn't because he wanted to be better at whatever was being taught. He liked seeing Astri's face light up whenever she got something right. He had seen it often when they were children when learning about the history of Asgard in their shared classes. 

A quiet knock sounded, interrupting his nightly brooding. Loki removed himself from the pile of blankets and pillows he slept with nightly and pulled the door open to reveal Astri and a tall stack of books. 

   "I missed seeing you today so I figured I'd come to you." She explained entering his room without even asking and tossing the books onto his already overflowing desk.

  "It's very late, Astri." Loki sighed trying to pretend that he was tired and not at all happy to see her. 

   "So? We used to sneak into Thor's room and then hang him from the ceiling by his toes around this time when we were younger." She pointed out before selecting a book and jumping onto his bed

   "Yes, we did. But..." Loki trailed off eyeing her legs that were exposed by her night dress moving up as she got comfortable among his many pillows

   "Why do you have so many pillows? It's kind of impractical." She said utterly missing his wandering eyes

Loki felt a lump rise in his throat as she tossed a pillow towards him to get his attention as if he wasn't always watching whenever she entered the room.

   "Are you gonna put on a shirt and come over here or keep standing there?" She asked

Right. Clothes. He fumbled for the shirt he had discarded on the floor before climbing into bed hours earlier. He tried to calm his nerves before sliding under the covers next to her. One of his many pillows was squished behind her acting as back support while she began to explain the plot of whatever book she had chosen for their evening. Loki watched as her long hair moved while she gestured to the hand-drawn pictures of a large mountain on the first page. Her hair had always been mesmerizing for him. Even as a child, he had been interested in it, pulling at it for fun and just to get her attention. The result had been Astri cutting her hair up so it was chin length so she could avoid Loki's mean hands. Now, it was long again, streaming over her shoulders and down past her chest. God don't look at her chest!

   "Are you even listening to me?" She asked suddenly, reaching out to flick his forehead.

   "Of course." He lied, moving her hand away from him.

   "Then what just happened in this book?" She asked

  

Loki smiled before gently taking the book from her hands and setting it aside.

   "Does it matter? Why don't you show me what my mother taught you today?" He asked, leaning towards her

  "Are you going to get angry if you can't do it yourself?" She asked

  "No, of course not. That time I wasn't angry at you...I was upset with myself." He admitted

  "I know..." She softly said reaching for his hand with her smaller ones

  "So what did you learn today?" He asked letting her play with his fingers

   "Well I didn't succeed but Frigga was trying to teach me how to take over others' bodies." She responded a little sadly

   "Ah, enchantment. I've read about it." He nodded

   "Can you do it?" She asked

    "No. Not yet." He said, "I've tried on Thor in the past."

Astri nodded and looked back down at his hand in hers.

   "What are you wearing at tomorrow's festival?" He asked suddenly

   "Wouldn't you like to know," Astri smirked

   "I would actually," Loki replied

    "Why? Scared we'll show up in  matching dresses?" She laughed

   "Perhaps." Loki softly said 

   "Guess you'll just have to wait and find out." Astri smiled 

Loki woke the next morning to a stiff left arm and a slightly sore neck. The cause of the issues? Astri had fallen asleep next to him last night. She had convinced him to read to her and then proceeded to fall asleep almost immediately despite insisting she was not tired. He tried to slowly move her head off his arm and to the pillow next to her but instead was met with an ugly groan as she awoke. 

   "What're you doing I thought it was your turn to read." She groggily said 

   "Yes, it was my turn but you fell asleep mere moments after I began." He said standing up from the bed

   "Impossible, I wasn't even tired." She yawned before glancing out the glass doors that led to the balcony, "Damn it." 

   "It's alright, no one's perfect." He assured, "Except perhaps me." 

A large pillow came flying in his general direction before smacking the wall to his right. 

   "Awful throw." Loki commended 

This time, another one came flying and it hit him in the stomach with a surprisingly strong force. 

   "I win." Astri declared before slumping back into the bed and pulling the covers around her. 

   "You can't go back to bed, Astri," Loki said 

   "Sure I can. Watch me." She responded, her voice muffled by the pillow under her 

   "Today marks the beginning of the festivities for the Winter Solstice." Loki reminded 

Another loud groan came from the cocoon of blankets that was his friend before she unceremoniously removed herself from the bed. 

   "I'll see you later I guess." She said walking towards the door "I hope your dress is as nice as mine." 

   "It'll be far better," Loki said seriously 

Astri just shook her head and laughed as Loki shut the door behind her. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

   "It appears I was wrong, brother," Thor said amid sips of his drink 

Of course, he had been wrong, Thor was always wrong. Astri wasn't in green but rather a light blue and silver one, and somehow this one was even more breathtaking than her green one. Loki watched her greet Sif and the other noble women who stood around in small groups while they chattered about unknown topics. Loki felt his legs moving without even a thought towards her as they finally made eye contact. 

   "Loki, where is your matching dress?" Astri teased 

   "I must have left it behind in my room." He breathed "You look...good." Damn. Why did he stop at just good?

   "Thank you. Frigga has a good eye. Astri smiled 

Loki glanced around the room, searching for his mother. 

   "Looking for me?" Her voice suddenly said from behind him 

   "Mother." He greeted 

   "Astri, come we want to show you something." A noble lady had looped her arm with Astri's and pulled her away from Loki.

   "Do you like her dress? I helped pick it." Frigga smiled 

   "Of course I like it," Loki admitted 

   "Good. Then you should have no problem dancing with her." Frigga said before gently pushing her son towards where her ward had walked "Don't forget to complement her hair!"

Normally, the heat at festivals never affected Loki. But, as he approached Astri again he swore he felt himself break out in a sweat. The instruments of the entertainers his father had summoned to the palace seemed twenty times louder as he held his hand out to Astri. 

   "Lady Astri." He finally found his voice, " May I have the honor of a dance?" 

Thor's eyes scanned the room, he was looking for his brother who had left his side the moment their childhood friend had entered the room. What surprised him though was that Loki wasn't just speaking to Astri as he normally did but instead leading her to the dance floor among other couples. He couldn't help but smile as he watched his younger brother smoothly lead the clumsy Astri in a traditional dance they had learned when they were younger.

Astri felt as if a thousand eyes were on her as Loki led the dance. As they spun, she could see Frigga's smiling face among so many other noble Asgardians. 

   "You're rather stiff." Loki pointed out 

   "It feels like everyone is watching us." She said, her voice barely above a whisper 

   "That is because they are." Loki smiled down at her, "They're all watching you." 

Astri felt her face redden as Loki's drew closer to hers. She tried to focus on anything but his words and his bright blue eyes that stared into hers.

   "You know, I love the way you look in green." Loki said "But this..." 

She felt his hand gently squeeze at her waist. 

   "You're stunning in blue, Astri." 

Astri swore it was out of embarrassment that she hid her face in his shoulder while his frame lightly shook from laughter. When she unburied her face, he was still looking at her with that intense gaze of his. 

   "Don't let it go to your head." He joked 

Instead of quipping back she just nodded and pressed herself closer to him, wishing for the moment to never end. 

I drabbled in Loki's POV a little more for this part. Also, the Attack on Titan finale still has me on the floor. Like, I knew what would happen in the end but seeing it all animated in front of me is a whole different thing. I listened to Lover by Taylor Swift while writing the dancing scene so if you want to set the tone, there you go. Also, starting in the next chapter I will be beginning to follow the plot of the first Thor movie. This means that the plot will be more cohesive and that updates might take longer since I won't just be writing from my imagination but instead sticking to what the MCU says is canon. Hope you are enjoying the story so far! 

Astri's Dress

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[undiscovered-horizon]

Bestie- u didn’t just deliver u served and I’m the greedy gremlin who’s eating this up, that was amazing, he’s so skrunkly I love him 😔Ur gonna kill me here but bestie I need them to meet I can’t 😩

This is the effect of me doing sudokus and crosswords in the ethics lecture... Was listening to Jasmine Thompson's cover of 'Rather Be' while writing this and honestly?? A whole mood

Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Part 5]

That day felt weirdly long as if hours were stretching out as much as the universe would allow them to. You haven't felt that tired and fed up in quite a while, dreaming about the soft comfort of your own bed during your commute back home.

Home, however, had another surprise in store for you:

"Perfect timing, Eddie," you said to yourself as you tore the envelope off your front door. "Could use a little pick-me-up."

You opened the letter and couldn't help the surprise at the front of the card you were given. For some reason, it said "Invitation" in fancy, glittery writing. Inside, on the left side was another torn-out page from a poetry collection.

Underneath an apple-tree Sat a maiden and her lover; And the thoughts within her he Yearned, in silence, to discover.

Under the piece of a poem were written only two words: "Meet me". Your gaze followed the vague message to the right side of the card where a small map was drawn. It looked like a bird's view of a restaurant or a bar with a question mark drawn over one of the, as you had assumed, tables like the little map was the continuation of the unfinished sentence. On top of the drawing was scribbled an address, a date and an hour. You were supposed to meet him in a week's time.

From that moment on, you could hardly think about anything else and, little did you know, so did he. It was going to be a fateful Wednesday evening.

"That's the place," you whispered to yourself as you checked the GPS on your phone again.

You found yourself standing before a desolate diner that looked like it was taken straight out of Quentin Tarantino's movie. But you had to admit that the Pulp Fiction feel to the locale was charming in some way as if gracefully continuing your dilemma whether you were now the main character of a rom-com or a slash horror film.

"Here goes nothing," you said with a sigh. With each step towards the front door of the diner, your restlessness was only increasing.

The bell near the door chimed cheerfully as you hesitantly entered the building. At first, you couldn't see a soul inside - even the waitress was more of a cryptid as you could only hear her quiet chatter with the cooks coming from the kitchen. They left the door slightly ajar. According to the drawing, the marked table should be the one under the vintage-style graffiti with a pin-up girl holding a tray of apple pie. Your heart stopped for a moment, seeing that the booth was occupied.

Ever since he sat down in that booth, he'd been eyeing the door, waiting for the fateful moment you enter. The muffled laughter of the waitress rung in his ears and Eddie was half-convinced that she was laughing at him. After all, who was he to ever believe that you were actually going to show up? That you would be anything but disgusted with him?

He watched as you checked his little drawing once more. You turned your head towards him and Ed could swear the time actually slowed down if not entirely stopped when your gaze met his. The moment you realized that it was him, a bright smile appeared on your face, making Eddie's palms even sweatier than they already were. He just knew he was going to mess things up - there was no way in Hell that he could impress you. That much was obvious to Eddie.

You were just so... unreal to him. There he was: the loser, the loner, the butt of the joke and there were you, the epitome of grace approaching the table he was sitting at. He couldn't believe his own senses, some anxious beast still gnawing at his thoughts, that you didn't immediately turn around and left once you saw him.

"Hey," you said softly as you sat down across from him.

"H-hi," he nervously stuttered out.

Eddie looked more or less as you expected him to: a quiet, kind of awkward and easy-to-overlook guy who had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Your friends always found it very amusing that you had a thing for underdogs. No matter how strange it might sound to anyone else, you thought there was a certain charm to his awkwardness like an adorable deer caught in headlights.

"You have great taste." You waved the "invitation" card before putting it back into your purse.

"In what?" Eddie asked sheepishly. His mind was fluctuating between blankness and intrusive thoughts, so coherence and reason weren't something he could count on at the moment.

You shrugged. That bright, showstopping smile was still on your face and Eddie felt he wouldn't be able to look away from you even if he wanted to. "Poetry. Flowers," you counted. "Girls."

His chubby cheeks turned crimson red at your words. Your confidence made him even more aware of his incapacitating insecurity. Eddie believed his intrusive thoughts: there was nothing he could delight you with.

"I loved your riddles," you confessed. "You're really good at it."

A flutter of his heart and a ray of lovesick hope.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

CELEBRITY | chapter 7

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

SYNOPSIS: The protagonist has tried everything: acting, modeling, singing. But what got her a front page cover was being seen with a Premier League player. Unfortunately, that’s currently the least of her worries. WARNINGS: smut; kind of dom!ruben; social media post; minors dni.

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CHAPTER VII — THE BRACELET

The air in the apartment feels heavy as Lily and the protagonist stand facing each other. It had been months since they had last spoken. 

The protagonist clears her throat, the effort to speak almost tangible.

"Lily, listen, I... just want to say that... it's okay for us to live together." Each word is a struggle, the bitterness of their past still lingering in her voice.

Lily's expression remained unreadable, her gaze piercing. "Of course it is." She replies, her tone cool. "I've never had a problem with it."

The protagonist feels her anger flare at Lily's nonchalant response. "Really? Because I seem to remember things differently." Her voice is sharp with sarcasm. "Like the time you 'borrowed' my bracelet and conveniently forgot to return it."

Lily's eyes widen as she claims innocence. "You're still on about that old thing? You know I never touched it!"

The protagonist feels a surge of frustration. It was clear that Lily was not interested in reconciliation. And the bracelet was just one example of the many complaints she held against her former friend.

With a deep breath, the protagonist tries to keep her composure. "Well, I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree." She says icily. "But let's be clear, I won't tolerate any more of your games. We're roommates, nothing more."

Lily's smile falters briefly, a hint of uncertainty crossing her face. But it was quickly replaced by a facade of indifference. "Fine by me." She replies, her tone dripping with insincerity. "After all, it's not like we were ever really friends, were we?"

With that, Lily turned and walked away, leaving the protagonist alone with her conflicted emotions. Anger, sadness, and a profound sense of loss washing over her.

It's late, the city is quiet outside. The protagonist stands outside Rúben's apartment, perplexed by his persistent calls. They haven't discussed their relationship, but she goes every time he calls. Before, Rúben used to find any excuse to see her, but now he simply calls, and she comes running, drawn to him despite the unanswered questions between them.

As she enters his apartment, she's reminded of the need for caution. They can't risk photos of her here, not with looming threats. 

So, it's not like it was with Kevin, she tells herself. 

And it isn’t. Rúben's touch is gentle, his kisses soft. He holds her hand as they sit on the couch, watching TV. And it never progressed further than that.

So this time it’s different in many ways.

The protagonist feels respected, like Rúben is giving her time, like he wants to get to know her better. Despite his respect, her mind wanders, consumed by longing. Rúben is respectful, but she knows he would give her more if she asked. Does she dare?

The protagonist shifts subtly, repositioning herself closer to Rúben on the couch. She leans in, her body language conveying a subtle invitation. Rúben notices, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of curiosity.

Without breaking eye contact, she reaches out, her hand finding his and intertwining their fingers. Rúben's expression softens, a silent understanding passing between them. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a tentative kiss.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate.

Rúben breaks away long enough to pull her closer, then presses his mouth back down onto hers, deepening the kiss even more. 

Their bodies pressed together, each seeking comfort from the other's warmth. His hand slides up her thigh, squeezing gently at first, but gradually increasing pressure. His tongue pushes into her mouth, tasting her as his hand inches up her skirt.

In the mirror across the room, the protagonist watches herself melt under Rúben's touch.

“I want you.” She whispers breathlessly. "So much"

“Yes, yes, I want you too.” He responds huskily, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her against him. “Let me take care of you."

He pulls off her panties, dropping them on the floor beside the couch, then yanks down her skirt. He's a bit rougher than she was expecting, but she's so horny she'll let him do anything he wants. He unbuttons her blouse, then unclasps her bra and tosses it aside, leaving her completely naked. His eyes wander over her body, lingering on legs, then her stomach, her breasts, finally coming to rest on her face. 

The protagonist moans when he brushes his thumb across her lips, then tilts her head to the side, encouraging him to go further. With a deep groan, Rúben leans forward and presses his lips to hers again.

She closes her eyes and his hands move over her skin, learning her curves. His hands are firm on her breasts and when she makes eye contact with him again, he has a proud smile on his face.

"You're so fucking hot."

His hands slide down to her thighs, gently lifting them, opening her legs wider, until they are spread open in front of him. She moans as he kisses her body, pausing at each breast to kiss and lick, sucking on her nipples, teasing her with small nips before retreating. 

As he kisses his way down, his hand moves up her inner thigh, making slow, deliberate circles. The more he touches her, the wetter she gets.

"I want to see you too. Please." She pleads.

"Yeah? Want to see if you can take it?" He asks, grinning down at her.

The protagonist bites her lips and coyly nods, begging him with her eyes.

"I'll show you." A lustful grin spreads across Rúben’s face as he starts to undress. 

Her eyes grow wide as he lifts his shirt over his head, revealing his lean muscles and athletic body. He bends down and pulls off his shoes, socks, and pants, tossing them aside. Then he steps out of his underwear, his cock already erect.

The protagonist watches with growing arousal as Rúben's hands roam over his muscular chest, down his belly to his cock, which points straight toward her face. She licks her lips nervously. He climbs up on the couch, kneeling in front of her, his hard cock bobbing just inches from her mouth.

"Open your mouth." He says, reaching out and stroking her hair with one hand. When she does as he asks, his member touches her lips and he begins to push it in. The tip slips past her teeth, only barely grazing her tongue. Rúben grins.

"You got it."

Slowly, Rúben moves his cock in and out of her mouth, going deeper each time. The faster he goes, the harder she cries out. She opens her mouth wider, trying to take all of him inside. 

She grips the armrest of the couch tightly, a single tear running down her face. Rúben’s hand is soft on her hair, as he pets her. When he feels her throat start to constrict around his shaft, he puts his hands on her shoulders and slowly eases out of her mouth. She moans loudly as she takes him back inside.

"Take it like a good girl." He breathes.

The protagonist struggles for air as Rúben thrusts himself into her mouth, harder and faster than before. Her eyelids flutter closed.

Finally, Rúben stops thrusting.

"That's good, that's good." He tells her.

When she opens her eyes, she finds him smiling down at her, an approving look on his face. He continues to stroke her hair, looking down at her with such affection and adoration. The protagonist tries to catch her breath, taking deep breaths through her nose as she strokes his cock.

Rúben smiles. "Now come here."

He sits back on the couch and takes her in his arms. As she straddles him, he gently kisses her forehead. He fingers her shortly, claiming that she's wet enough, before lining himself on her entrance. She gasps softly as he pushes himself inside.

It hurts slightly, but he keeps pushing in, until eventually, she sinks all the way down onto him. His eyes close and he sighs.

Rúben rests his hands on her hips, letting her control the pace. She keeps her rhythm slow and steady, moving back and forth on top of him, rocking her hips back and forth as she rubs her clit against him. Every few minutes, she slows her movements and leans forward, rubbing her lips and tongue against his skin, biting his ears, causing him to moan in pleasure.

They stay this way for several minutes, neither saying anything. Finally, Rúben grabs her hips and pulls her up and down faster. She clenches around him, pushing herself down onto his cock, enjoying every sensation. Soon, she can feel her orgasm building, and she doesn't want to hold back any longer.

As she continues to ride him, she grinds her pussy harder, squeezing him tighter. Suddenly, her climax overtakes her. She grits her teeth and shudders, tightening around him. Rúben moans in pleasure as he comes too. They continue to move together for several seconds before finally collapsing on the couch, still joined together.

When they finally get their breathing under control, Rúben looks into her eyes. She blushes slightly.

"You were amazing." He says.

lilyymargaret

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long story short, it was a bad time

sarahck hey, that's my old bedroom! 😭 ⤷lilyymargaret i miss you too 😭 alanejjone baby face mseeker girl, you're an inpiration!

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