#skin deep

[fernacular]

so I literally just realized im mutuals with @korybing

And as a very longtime fan of her webcomic Skin Deep (as in, ive been keeping up with it since eighth grade fourteen years ago) I though I should so something to…. mark the occasion? Say hi?

I love Skin Deep and Michelle is adorable so… here she is in all her grumpy glory!

[yellowbugifs]

67/365 days of regina mills

[gameraboy2]

Magnum, P.I. (1980), "Skin Deep"

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 8

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: 14k

A/N: This took forever. I’m so sorry, guys. I really struggled with repetition in this one so I apologize in advance for that. Hope y’all enjoy! (Also this is pretty filthy so 👀)

As always, I love and appreciate all the support and feedback ❤️

Special shoutout to my lovely girls Nessa and Hannah for carrying my ass through this chapter. I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without them.

Warnings: cursing, drug use (marijuana), smoking, angst, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI! 18+ (oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, edging, dirty talk, breeding kink, public sex, somnophilia - scene has been edited out

Masterpost

“I think we need to have a serious conversation.”

You release your arms from him as if the surface of his skin is scorching hot to the touch. Your vision blurs, making it feel like you have blinders on — tunnel vision. The entire world you’ve been blissfully living in for the past hour shrinks to the size of his bedroom in a matter of seconds. That high, the euphoria, the oxytocin surging through your veins has been sucked away as soon as the words left his mouth. It tightens in your chest like a vice grip, turning your stomach sour with regret. You’re not sure what scares you more, him being upset with you, or your visceral reaction to it. With a flick of his lighter, he takes a heavy hit while you sit on the bed behind him still as a statue. 

Things have been left unresolved since that afternoon at the tattoo shop, and sex clearly didn’t keep it swept under the rug for very long. This issue between the two of you weighs you down, keeping your body fused to the mattress. 

“Okay,” you finally mutter out a meek response as he blows the cloud of smoke above his head. He stays silent for far too long, leaving you to stare at the muscles of his back — each petal of his inked mandala — contracting with each breath he takes.

His head falls from his tense shoulders, and he disrupts the uncomfortable quiet by sending his words to the floor between his feet, “Do you just want to fuck Jake?”

The distant sound of his voice causes the guilt to swell like an overinflated balloon in your chest. You haven’t done your best to convince him of different intentions, and while the question itself seems within reason given the circumstances, it takes you by surprise nonetheless. “What?”

A defeated sigh tumbles out from his chest before he answers you in a tightly wound tone, “If you don’t want to keep fooling around with me anymore, that’s okay.”

“No!” You blurt out, panicked that you’ve torched whatever this is and that all you’ll be left with is extinguished embers. “No. Wait…what?” You dip your knee into the mattress to move closer to him. You shake the thoughts swirling around in your head for a coherent explanation. “Listen, Josh, I’m sorry for how that went down in there. I didn’t think Jake was going to say all of that and—”

The razor-sharp edge to his voice cuts off your desperate rambling, “I didn’t fuck that woman.”

He’s slammed a proverbial door into your face. It causes you to shrink in on yourself, making you accept that you haven’t been fair to him. You haven’t been transparent, even if you don’t exactly know what you’re supposed to be honest about. Your voice weakens just merely above a whisper, “I know… I’m not sure why I said those things. I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t respond to your apology. Instead, he fiddles with the glass bowl of his bong, giving away that he’s just as anxious and uncomfortable. You dare another touch his back, but this time he relaxes to the feeling of your fingers. It’s the subtle reassurance you need for you to add, “I liked the flowers by the way.”

He peers over his shoulder enough to see you in his periphery. “You did?”

Your fingers slip into the fallen curls at the nape of his neck.“Yeah. They’re beautiful. I have them sitting on my table in my apartment.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles, but it fails in comparison to what it normally is. He stands and sets the glass piece on his dresser. There’s tension in his rigid movements like he has something else weighing on his mind. 

You watch his unnatural demeanor, beckoning him to look into your eyes again. He avoids them by casting his own to the floor, making it feel as though you’re an intruder. It’s hard to ignore, like the grating hum of electricity through a poorly wired outlet. You decide to shimmy toward the side of the bed and ask, “Should I go?”

You mentally prepare yourself for his answer the best you can while he brings his gaze back to you. “No. I want you to stay.” The words are not as believable for you as they should be, and from the look on his face alone, he knows they’re not convincing enough either. Before you can make another move, he rushes to crawl back onto the bed to sit before you. “Really.”

He places a hand on your bare knee and that’s when you notice the red marks around his wrist from where the handcuffs rubbed his skin. You gasp, taking his hand to inspect them closer, “Oh my god, Josh! Are you okay?”

He glances down at them like you’re pointing it out to him for the first time. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You rub your thumb over the tender skin apologetically. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put those on you.”

He laughs, giving you a sense of relief now that the tension is starting to finally break, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I liked it, actually.”

You quirk your brow. “You did?”

He watches you massage his wrist and shrugs, answering matter-of-factly, “Yeah, but I probably would have liked it a lot more if it was just the two of us.”

He slips his hand away from you only to lean forward into a kiss. You instinctively fall backward as he moves, laying across the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Good. Add it to the list,” he hums, smiling into the kiss as his lips meet yours. His movements are soft and gentle — far more affectionate than the ones you had shared minutes prior. 

Before the kiss has a chance to deepen, he breaks away to say, “Lay with me for a while.” There’s a vulnerability in his request that makes you ache from the need to comfort him. You answer by lifting your dress over your head and reaching out for him. 

He lowers himself with your guiding pull until his head rests against your bare chest. You cradle him in your arms while he wraps his own around your waist. His body fits along yours seamlessly, and within seconds, his tight muscles begin to loosen. You lay in silence, listening to his rhythmic breaths as you draw shapes on his back with calming caresses of your fingertips.

Minutes go by, perhaps even hours without a single word spoken between you. Exhaustion is setting in and it doesn’t take long for the ever-changing patterns traced along the muscles of his shoulder to lull him to sleep. Soft snores flutter across your chest and as you run your fingernails lightly over his scalp, sleep coaxes you in as well. 

The Sandman had been a little heavy-handed last night, keeping your eyes sealed with sleep. You exist within the realms of your dream and reality, lucid enough to be aware of Josh shifting his weight beside you. You don’t react to the dips of the mattress, letting the luxury cotton sheets swim across your naked skin as he settles between your legs. 

You feel his warmth before his lips make contact with the top of your thigh. It’s a careful kiss, testing whether it's enough to wake you. You hum, permitting him to shower your legs with those barely-there kisses, so faint you wonder if you’re imagining them. That’s until he starts to suck his mark on the thin flesh of your inner thigh, dragging you into consciousness once again.  

Your hips writhe as a sleepy groan rumbles in your throat. The tempting heat of his breath tickles you, making you spread yourself for him without a second thought. 

You peek through your stubborn eyelids, mumbling while your eyes struggle to focus on him, “What are you doing?” 

He answers you by licking a stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit into his mouth. The surprise of his pointed tongue and the strong suction jolts you awake. Before your vision has a chance to clear, you react by clamping your eyes shut in response. After hearing your hissed curses, he releases it, giggling against your throbbing skin, “Good morning, baby.”

The sleepy rasp of his voice drowns your self-control. You push out a forceful sigh as you fall back into the down-feather pillow, huffing sarcastically, “That’s one hell of a way to wake up.” 

He chuckles to himself and skims his fingertips along your leg, giving you a few more kisses.“I’m sorry, would you like me to stop?”

The thought of him suddenly stopping is almost enough to cause panic in your lust-addled mind. You want it so bad you’re vibrating with anticipation. “Oh fuck, no. Please keep going.”

That cheekiness you’ve become well acquainted with reappears. He coos, close enough that the words flutter across your clit, “Do you need it, baby?”

The pet name has never sounded so sweet. You want to bask in it, clutch onto the way it bounces from his lips with your clenched fists.  Your hips lift from the mattress in the blind search for his mouth. You find one of his hands resting on your stomach and grasp it with more strength than you intend. “Oh my god, yes. Just please don’t tease me, Josh.”

You claw at the sheets, wrinkling them by your sides to add emphasis to your plea. He smiles and brings himself even closer to you — less than an inch above you. His eyes fall, and as if he were sharing a secret, he whispers softly, “You like it when I spoil your little clit? Should I be nice to her?”

You respond with a whiny moan and reach for his head buried between your thighs. The tufts of his tangled curls act as reigns between your fingers. You pull him forward by their roots, guiding his mouth back to you. You brace yourself, expecting the same intensity as before, but all you feel is the blooming warmth of his mouth. It blankets you as his tongue pets your clit, lapping across the swollen bud with the slightest pressure. He gives just enough for you to notice the cold metal ball of his piercing teasing you with every roll.

He breathes you in, and licks his lips through a low groan, “Fuck, you taste so good.”

You mumble something, but it's incoherent. You’re too lost in the feeling of his lips sealing around your clit to even bother repeating yourself. He just goes on to create the perfect vacuum with his flattened tongue. He holds it there, babying the most sensitive part of you in the safety of his mouth — as if it was made solely to pleasure you. 

It’s decadent — this feeling. Like that extra slice of chocolate cake eaten at some late hour of the night barefoot in your kitchen. It’s rich and heavenly, flooding your brain with oxytocin. He’s unlike any partner you’ve experienced, and it would be borderline insulting to even compare. There’s not a hint of obligation in sight. What he’s giving you is pure adoration. Unabashed, selfless worship. He’s taking his time, not even rushing a single second with you.   

He’s making sure you feel. He’s learning your body more and more with each passing minute, maybe knowing you better than you know yourself. Like magic, the slow-building orgasm churns wildly in the depths of your belly. Only for it to be disrupted by him suddenly lifting his head, breaking the seal. “I want us to do something today.”

Your mouth is bone-dry, causing you to stutter, “W-what?” 

He shifts his weight between your legs, propping himself on an elbow. Before you can complain out of frustration, he asks nonchalantly,  “Where do you want to go?”

Your mind is too busy reeling trying to process the casual tone of his voice to think about an itinerary for the day. He doesn’t seem to mind your pause and waits patiently for an answer with a smile on his face. After a huff and a roll of your eyes, you throw your head back and comb your fingers through your hair. “Fuck. I dunno, Josh. I think I work today.”

His response is mumbled through the kisses to the inside of your leg. “Then call off. You can do that, can’t you?”

The trail of his tongue and the teasing nips of his teeth distract you. Just like that fateful afternoon the day you first met at the shop, he’s able to convince you of anything he desires. “Yeah…yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” His middle finger slips through your folds —  rewarding you. He’s playing, exploring the intricate details of your body to see your reactions in real-time. He watches your hips lift off the bed from the feather-light touch, how your chest rises and falls with each panting breath, to the changing expressions on your face. With his hooded eyes completely transfixed between your legs, he asks, “How about we take some edibles and go to the aquarium today?”

Despite the overwhelming urge to close your eyes, you fight to keep them open. He’s breathtaking, so effortlessly beautiful soaking in the filtered morning sun. You doubt the fact he’s real like he’s a still from a movie that’s been locked away in a memory until now. There’s a fear that if you blink, he might disappear and you’ll wake up from this perfect dream. 

You’re determined to capture the sight of him — a moment so natural it makes your heartache. The dark shadow of stubble growing back where his mustache draws your attention down to his kissable lips. They’re flushed bright pink, glossy with your wetness. 

He swipes his thumb across your clit, watching how your body spasms at the feeling. You hum, finally allowing your eyes to close, “Mmhmm.”

His voice floats across the tides of your conscience, “Are you listening, baby?” 

“Yeah,” you answer back through an airy sigh. In reality, you’re not convinced you even heard him correctly. The words evaporated into the air between you. They don’t matter in the slightest, he could suggest anything to you if it meant that he would make you finish. 

He kisses your inner thigh before dragging the tip of his tongue higher up. “How does that sound?” 

The kitten-licks along the crook of your leg make you choke on a breath, “S-sure.” He giggles at the broken sound, burying his laughter as he searches for your clit. “We can go look at some fish — ah fuck!”

He swirls his tongue, coaxing your orgasm into the refuge that is his mouth. You find his hand gripped across your hip. The contact serves as a substitute for the spoken words that are failing to form, touching praise that tells him you’re right on the cusp of your release. You feel across the dips and contours of his knuckles, tracing along the soft planes of each finger grasped onto the supple flesh of your waist. 

If you were aware of your surroundings, you would notice his hips grinding into the mattress for friction knowing he could’ve easily added his fingers and made you climax minutes ago out of impatience. The whine laced within the ragged breath is the only indicator that he’s just as desperate as you. “Are you close, baby?”

You moan loud enough for the sound to pierce through the thin walls of their house. If Jake was here, there’s no question that he heard you. However, the thought of the confrontation he’ll have with you is fleeting. Josh, still hell-bent on maintaining the resemblance of a conversation, asks you, “What do you want to see the most?”

“Josh,” you groan, swallowing harshly to wet your parched tongue.

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.” 

He smiles, pressing the sharp edge of his teeth against your clit. As much as he loves to tease you, the urgency in your tone is enough to flip the last switch. The lazy movements are abandoned, replaced with the rapid flicks of his tongue. 

“Holy sh-shit!” You cry out, clawing at his hands that are latched around your legs. Every muscle in your body tightens like an over-spun coil ready to snap any second. You fall past the tipping point as he drenches you in intoxicating bliss like you’ve been submerged in a warm bath. 

He brings you down carefully, licking and kissing until your legs start to shake from overstimulation. Peaceful silence falls between you as your breathing calms and your heart rate returns to normal within a few minutes. You expect him to crawl up your body and slip himself inside you, but he doesn’t.

He lifts himself from the bed, throws the duvet off to the side, and stands to his feet. His nakedness sends your eyes to his obviously-hard cock bouncing against his belly as he moves. He catches you staring, and the confusion painted on your face. 

You’re completely dumbfounded, as Josh doesn’t strike you as the type to pass on the opportunity for sex. The strange behavior might have made you question things normally, but the certain glint in his eyes tells you something is brewing in that brain of his. 

A tiny smirk forms on his face as he makes his way to the dresser, giving you a direct view of his ass. The way jiggles and bounces as he walks is enough to distract you momentarily. You know he’s doing it on purpose, and you hate the way you fall for it. He digs out his clothes from the drawers, tosses them onto the foot of the bed, and starts to get dressed in front of you. 

You wish you had your phone to snap a picture of him, even for your own selfish reasons. The collection of vibrant tattoos flowing with the lean muscles of his body deserves to be admired. The dichotomy of wanting to appreciate his beauty while wanting to ravish his cock that’s twitching with the steady beat of his heart wrecks your brain.

 Realizing that you’re gawking, he looks up and flashes you a full smile. “So I was thinking we could grab a coffee and some breakfast on the way. My treat.” 

Stunned, you watch him pull his boxer briefs up his legs with his cock standing at attention more than ever. Your pussy throbs for him, craving the full feeling he gives you. Unbothered, he grabs himself with a firm hand and tucks it away into the confines of his underwear. The heather-gray fabric does little to conceal it, taunting you with the prominent outline. 

“Uh…about that,” You begin just as he slips on a pair of jeans that does nothing but hug his crotch in all the right places. It takes every ounce of energy for you to look away. “I need to stop by my apartment today. I have to check on my cat and get some clothes.”

He pauses with his t-shirt in hand. “You have a cat?” After seeing you nod, he scoffs in disbelief, “How did I not know that?”

You sit up, snorting a laugh as you scoot to the edge of the bed. “I don’t think we’ve spent our time actually getting to know each other.”

“Hmm,” he hums, making his way toward you. He steps between your legs and leans until he’s just about eye level. “I beg to differ. I think I’m getting to know you very well.”

You peer up, hoping not to fall headfirst into those amber irises. “So well in fact that you didn’t even know I had a cat.”

“Hey,” he scolds playfully while tipping your chin up with a finger and lowering himself even farther so his lips hover above yours. “In my defense, I was a little busy getting to know another kitty of yours.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you huff, but he catches the back of your neck before you can pull away. 

He nips at the spot below your ear, making you suck in a breath.“Utterly moronic.” You whimper at the silken quality of his voice. “Now get dressed, baby.” 

You want to tug him close by the collar of his white t-shirt and kiss him. Lost in the sheets until the sun sets again, but he straightens, breaking the hold you have on him. 

He finishes getting ready while you dress and gather your belongings around him. You take a chance opening the door to his bedroom to see that Jake’s wide open. He’s nowhere to be found, but you spot your overnight bag sitting on top of his bed, reminding you how things were left off with him. 

You walk into his room, taking cautious steps toward the enormous four-post bed. Once you’re a few feet from it, you see a garment wrapped in a plastic covering beside your bag. You recognize it immediately. It’s the dress you wore to your tattoo appointment with Jake, dry-cleaned and laid out neatly for you.  

You’re not sure what to make of the gesture. It’s a level of care and detail that you weren’t expecting from him. It leaves you confused more than anything. There’s no note with your things, and a glance at your phone screen shows no messages from him.  

You hear Josh’s footsteps approach before he knocks against the door frame and calls into the room, “You ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You snatch your bag from the bed and head toward him, leaving the dress behind. 

He ushers you out of the front door of the house, locking it behind you once you step to the side. You follow him down the stairs, along the concrete path, and to the driveway where his beloved Camry sits. 

Up close, and now that you’re paying close attention to it, you can see the evidence left by the years from a type of tough love that would blur the line of abuse. The car has stood up to the test of time, proudly wearing every scratch along the chipped red paint and every dent punched into its exterior.   

As you walk around its battered hood, you note the metallic blue fender piece around the front passenger wheel well. You smile to yourself, as it's not a surprise that he’s the type of person to barely care if there was a fender attached at all.

You imagine each point of damage created by teenage Josh — each mark having its own ridiculous story for him to share with you one day. 

You also know that there’s a strong likelihood that some of these could have been made within the week. The thought of it causes a giggle to break free, “How old is this thing?”

He chuckles, manually unlocking the driver-side door with the key. “It’s an ‘03.”

You wait as he slides into his seat, expecting him to hit the unlock button on the inside of his door. He stretches across the passenger seat and pulls up the locking mechanism. 

You pop the handle, pleasantly surprised that it opens with ease, and peek inside. A pile of old cassette and CD cases litter the floor of the front seat. Layers of stickers that probably span over the years cover nearly every square inch of the plastic beige dash. The worn upholstery seats have been mended by hand and stitched back together in a rainbow of threads. Upon further inspection, you notice the tiny, circular cigarette burns that haven't earned their own patch. “Don’t you think it’s time for a new car?”

While you throw your bag into the backseat, he turns the key in the ignition. The idling engine emphasizes his answer. “Why? This baby runs perfectly fine.”

You scoff a laugh, “Josh. Your side view mirror is held on by duct tape and a prayer.”

“Hey!” He wags a pointed finger with his quirked brow before patting the center of the dash affectionately. “There’s nothing duct tape can’t fix. It hasn’t failed me yet.”

You glance over at him, watching him lift his ass from the seat so he can empty his pockets.“How much shit in this car is held together by duct tape?”

He bites back a smile, tossing his pack of cigarettes onto the dash, and sets his phone in the center console. After putting the car in reverse, he holds your headrest to look behind him, but his gaze lingers on you. “Do you want the real answer to that?”

“It might be better if I don’t know.”

Music plays through the speakers just low enough that the lack of conversation becomes noticeable. You’ve tried to distract yourself, but the plastic army men superglued to his dash can only keep your pestering thoughts from wandering for so long. 

He appears anxious, picking aimlessly at the woven steering wheel cover and bouncing a knee for the last few miles. After stopping at the next red light, he finally reaches for his pack of cigarettes resting on the center of the dash. With his free hand, he flips the top and pulls one out with his lips before tossing it back. Your eyes follow the bent pack of Marlboro Lights sliding into the corner of the windshield. After rolling his window down and using his knees to steer, he lights the cigarette and pulls a heavy drag. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

He glances over at you and takes a steadying breath. “I know I said we should have a serious talk last night, and well, we didn’t do as much talking as we probably should have.”

His anxiety becomes contagious, infecting you in an instant. You stiffen, taking cautious verbal steps, “Okay. What did you want to talk about?” 

Noticing your sudden change, he reaches out and gives your knee a reassuring squeeze. “Relax, baby. Everything is okay. I promise.”

“But something is still bothering you.”

You study his expressions and body language. He’s hesitant, thinking over each word carefully. The sigh he releases and the way he’s rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip makes your chest tighten. “I want you to know that I’m not trying to fuck around.” He quickly clears his throat to clarify his thoughts, “I mean, I’m not really looking to hook up with other people. And…and I think I wanted you to know that I’m just about you right now.”

You don’t answer him right away, letting each word replay in your head over and over. It takes a moment to process, deciphering what he’s truly saying past the surface level. You question if this is a conversation about exclusivity and the implications that go with it. He hasn’t looked back at you yet since he’s spoken, keeping his focus locked on the road.

“Josh?”

Your voice breaks his attention long enough for him to glance over at you. “Yeah?” 

“Are you trying to say that you want me to stop sleeping with Jake?” 

You try not to think about how much the proposition affects you because deep down you know the feeling will act as a stubborn stain on your heart that will never wash out no matter how much you try. You’ve thrown it out into the open and there’s no reeling it back in. It settles between you, more so than the iron weight in the pit of your stomach. You have to acknowledge your hypocrisy when you stood there in their driveway, holding your ground about not wanting to create jealousy between them. 

He winces as he takes another drag, pushing out the question through the blown smoke, “Do you want to stop sleeping with Jake?”

You’re quick to snap back, “Don’t dodge my question.”

“I’m not,” he huffs defensively.  “Look, I’ll be the first person to admit that our situation is…less than conventional. But I like you. I hope that’s obvious.” A smile breaks through the last part, but the expression stays controlled. “All I’m worried about is you being happy and comfortable. Knowing that you’re having fun, but I don’t have any expectations, okay?”

He waits for your nod before continuing to talk. “If having fun for you is hooking up with me, or with the both of us like we’ve been doing, or even if you just want to be with Jake… that’s okay too.”

Before you can open your mouth to reassure him, he adds, “It will be a bummer, but I’ll accept that.”

The pained flick of his thumb across the filter of his cigarette reveals more of his emotions than his chosen words. His exterior is calm and collected — an undeniable contrast to the outburst in the shop office. Out of the corner of your eye, you see how close you’re getting to your apartment building, and the last thing you want is to leave things off on a bad note. “You know I still want to sleep with you, right?”

His shoulders immediately relax and his face lights up as soon as the words leave your lips. That reserved smile blossoms into a full grin. “I might have had a feeling.”

As much as the sight gives you that fuzzy feeling, there’s still a tinge of embarrassment that you’re not handling this as well as you should be, making you confess, “This is new for me.”

Josh’s hand wraps around your thigh once more. “Me too. But we’ll figure it out.” His fingers and thumb begin to knead small circles into the bare skin. The touch is electric, sparking desire like lightning between your legs. “One last thing though. Can you just tell me you’re mad at me next time? I don’t know if I can handle much more of you fucking him to get back at me.”

Despite ending the last sentence with a laugh, it’s not because he finds it humorous. Guilt resurfaces, revealing your immaturity over the last week. You knew that’s how he felt, but to hear him say it acts like salt to the wound. You play it off, throwing in a touch of sarcasm. “So honest and open communication about my feelings?”

He bites at his lip before giving you that smile of his.“Crazy, I know.”

“I’ll try.”

Josh parks behind your apartment building in your designated space. To your relief, your roommate’s car is missing from its spot, giving you the clear to bring him up without having to deal with an awkward introduction. Before you can unbuckle your seatbelt, he snatches your bag from the backseat and slings it over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the car. 

He follows you through the narrow alleyway toward the front door of the building, causing a new, unfamiliar feeling to brew in your chest. In the past, bringing people back to your place has always been a rare thing, especially in broad daylight. You’ve found that you’re more comfortable at their house, coming and going on your terms. Now with him, a half-step behind you, seconds away from your door, is starting to feel like this is developing past the casual hookup phase and you’re not entirely sure where to place that idea in your brain. 

You unlock the heavy door and give it a strong push to break the seal of old paint that keeps it stuck within its frame during warmer months. Since it’s an older building, the musty air sticks to your lungs as you ascend the staircase. 

“How long have you lived here?” Josh sparks small talk from behind you. 

You keep your voice quiet to keep the sound from traveling into the other apartments. “About three years. It’s not quite up to code but the rent is cheap and my landlord is super cool so I can’t complain.”

Josh chuckles, “You know what they say, ‘A little asbestos builds character’.”

You laugh at his joke, stopping on the landing to search for your apartment key on the metal ring. “Can’t be much worse than all the cigarettes you smoke.”

He steps in front of you and blushes, releasing the strained breath he’s been holding in. “Hey, I’m trying to quit.”

You take the next set of stairs while throwing the bratty remark over your shoulder. “Oh? How’s that going by the way?”

Sarcasm seeps into his tone, making him exhale with a dramatic wheeze, “Fantastic. Can’t you tell?”

As soon as you’re standing in front of your door, a sudden wave of anxiety washes over you. This is the first time he’s going to see your place —  a part of you that’s remained a mystery to him until now. Accepting that there’s no turning back, you turn the key in the lock, praying that nothing embarrassing has been left in plain sight. 

“Well, this is it,” you announce into the empty apartment with open arms. 

You drop your keys onto the side table while he walks in and shuts the door behind him. After sliding your bag off his shoulder and resting it on a nearby chair, his eyes scan over the quaint living room. “Wow. It’s quite cozy in here.”

Thankfully, your roommate had kept the place pretty tidy overnight. Crocheted throw pillows are propped up nicely, a folded blanket is draped over the back of the couch, and stacks of books and an unfinished puzzle sit on the vintage oak coffee table. The late morning light casts through the large plate glass windows, giving your family of houseplants their daily dose of sun. 

The commotion wakes your sleeping cat, making him lift his head from his spot on the couch and give you both a welcoming chirp. With a childlike wonder, Josh beams with excitement, calling out in a soft voice, “Hey buddy!”

He slowly drops to a squatting position and holds out his hand. “Pspspsps.” 

You stand back, pleasantly surprised that Josh can gain his trust so easily. The orange tabby does his post-nap stretch before jumping off the couch with a thud, landing on all four paws. He trots over, causing his low belly to swing with his stride, and rubs his face into Josh’s open palm. “What’s your name?”

Not knowing what his reaction will be, you answer sheepishly, “Tater tot.”

Josh throws his head back and lets out a loud cackle, filling the quiet room with his vibrant energy. “Tater tot. I fucking love that.” He scratches under the cat’s chin, earning himself a purr. “You kind of look like a tater tot, don’t you?”

You move through the living room, placing your stuff down as you reminisce over the distant memory. “I found him by the dumpster at work when he was just a tiny kitten. Poor guy was covered in fleas and so hungry that he ate tater tots that I had with my lunch right out of my hand. And the name just stuck ever since.”

He gives your cat’s rotund frame an affectionate pat. “What a cool dude.”

You linger for a few beats of time until you clear your throat. “I’m gonna go get ready. You okay out here with him?”

He makes himself at home on the lounge chair next to your couch and releases a comfortable sigh, “Take your time, baby. Ol’ Tater and I will catch up.”

You rush back to your bathroom and freshen up as quickly as you can. Not long after you left the twins’ house, you texted Katie about covering your shift this afternoon. Thankfully, she was able to without much of a battle, leaving your day wide open to spend with Josh. 

After applying some makeup and doing your hair in a simple style, you repack your overnight bag and look for an outfit to change into. You pick out a simple, linen sundress from your closet that’s going to be comfortable enough for you to walk around in.

Josh doesn’t hear you come back into the living room, and keeps his back turned. In your short absence, he has scooped your cat up into his arms and started rocking him like a newborn baby. He hums a song that’s stuck in his head while pacing around the space, studying the art, little thrifted trinkets, and knick-knacks to the collection of books sitting on the shelf. You watch from the edge of the hallway, noticing how well he seems to fit in here — like he’s meshing seamlessly with your existing life. 

The romantic in you pines for a different reality, because at this moment, seeing the peaceful innocence makes you wish that he had asked you out on a proper date the first day you met. That way, you could have gotten to know him under different circumstances. After weeks of dating, you could’ve introduced him to friends, maybe even brought him to meet your nightmare parents. 

But the way things are with him seems as though it’s far too good to be true — an exciting fling that’s destined to fizzle out as soon as the summer ends. You’ve learned this lesson before. Don’t get too emotionally invested in a guy like him. 

Before getting swept away in the emotions of it like an incoming tide, you interrupt, “I’m shocked he let you pick him up like that. Usually, he hates being held.” Josh is startled by your voice, turning on his heels with the biggest smile on his face. “He must really like you.”

Your beloved cat continues to rub his face across Josh’s defined jaw, purring so loud that you can hear it from across the room. Proud that he’s won his affection, he can’t help but crack a joke, “What can I say…pussies love me.”

You groan with a dramatic roll of your eyes and walk to the door with your bag in hand. Josh laughs from behind you, only to be followed by the sound of Tater Tot’s paws returning to the wood floor. “What? What’d I say?”

You let the smile creep across your lips as you grab your purse and keys. “Sometimes I wonder why I hang out with you at all?”

He hums in thought, standing behind you as he watches you lock the deadbolt. “It could be the big dick and the free weed.”

You scoff and turn to the stairs knowing that he’ll follow. Before you can take the first step, he reaches out and hooks your upper arm in his hand, tugging you close. “Hey.” He abandons the teasing banter, taking on a calm sincerity in his voice. “You look beautiful, baby. Thank you for spending the day with me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re right. Those flowers do look great in your apartment.”

With the weight lifted between you, the drive to the aquarium was far more relaxed than the one on the way to your apartment. Like a road trip planned with your best friend, the miles fly by quicker than you thought. The last hour was spent laughing and playing music from the scattered tapes and CDs strewn across the car. 

Josh chooses a parking deck close by, but because of it being in the center of the city, the first three floors are filled. He eventually finds a spot on the last level, kills the engine, and digs around for something in his backseat. He retrieves a small plastic container, pops the lid open, and offers you a red gummy placed in the center of his palm. 

You giggle, plucking it from his open hand, “You’re such a bad influence.”

“The peer pressure must be killing you.” He teases, tossing back three into his mouth. 

Even though you’ve already started chewing yours, you stare at him in disbelief and snatch the container from him. “How strong are these?”

He chuckles around his own gummies, answering before you have a chance to find it on the label. “They’re only twenty.”

Your eyes widen as you swallow down the THC-infused cherry-flavored juice. “Oh, great.”

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and places a sweet kiss on your cheek. “Relax. You’re going to be fine. I got you, baby.”

“I fucking hope so.”

You both make your way through the parking deck and out onto the street. It’s early afternoon, and the summer sun is at its highest point in the sky. Thankfully, the trek to the aquarium is roughly a ten-minute stroll. You follow behind him as he walks up to the ticket counter outside of the building. 

“Hello,” Josh greets the employee behind the glass.  An older woman looks up from her computer and stares blankly at him. He waits a few seconds for her response, but when she doesn’t, he adds, “Can I get two adult tickets, please?”

You catch her glare before she redirects her attention to her computer. “That’ll be $105.89.”

Josh fishes his wallet out of his back pocket, waving you off when you reach into your purse. “I got it, baby.” He pulls out a credit card and slides it across the metal counter through the opening of the glass window. 

The woman's judgemental eyes lock onto his hands pushing the card toward her. You’re confused as to why until you realize that she’s staring at his finger tattoos. A look of disgust contorts her aged features as she reaches for it. You glance over at him, seeing the same friendly expression he’s been wearing despite this woman’s blatant rudeness toward him. 

She inspects the card between her fingers and looks up at him. “I need your ID to verify this card.”

You cut in, showing your frustration, “Are you serious? Is that necessary?”

“It’s okay,” He mumbles softly, placating you while handing the employee his driver’s license. He manages to keep his discomfort contained and hidden beneath the surface. Anger ignites and burns like wildfire within your body, but you stay silent as the interaction plays out. 

The old woman compares the names on the credit card and license in front of her before finalizing the payment. She reluctantly pushes both back to him, along with the receipt and printed tickets.“You know those things are permanent, young man.”

Josh forces out an awkward laugh as he slides both cards back into his wallet, “I would certainly hope so with how much I paid for them.”

Being in this employee’s presence makes your blood boil, and you can’t fathom spending another second in it. You hook your arm around his and usher him toward the entrance until you’re out of earshot. “What the fuck was that about?”

“What?”

You shuffle into the line and turn to him. “The ticket lady? She was so rude to you, Josh.” He doesn’t answer, but shrugs his shoulders, clearly not matching the same feelings you have about the ordeal. “Do people treat you like that a lot?”

“It happens. Sometimes you can’t change people who think like that.” There’s a hint of defeat in those words, a hidden sadness that he’s trying to mask. The experience knocks you down because you’ve only ever seen the art inked into his skin as beautiful. His brows pull together when he sees your frown and the hurt in your eyes. “What matters is that you think they’re cool, right?”

You blush instantly. “The coolest.”

“Fuck yeah. Now let’s go check out some fish.”

Another employee scans your tickets and points you in the direction of the main lobby. You let Josh take the lead, following the trail of painted blue arrows on the concrete floor to the closest exhibits. 

Walking through the open space, the recognizable smell of seawater from the rows of tanks drifts along the air and into your senses. Since it’s the middle of the week, the crowds are smaller — just a few people passing by every couple of minutes. 

You find yourselves before this massive tank that wraps around a circular shaped room. The serene ocean hues drench you in its blue light. As you read over the descriptions of the animals in each enclosure on the plaques, the edible you ate in the car starts to take effect on your body. You’re becoming highly aware of Josh standing beside you, and your focus moves to him. He’s taking it all in, admiring life’s simplest and more intricate details captured behind the wall of glass. 

 The calm silence is making it hard for you to concentrate on the animals. You’re becoming more restless only to feel his fingers brush against yours. It’s a testing touch before they weave tightly between them. It’s not much, but the public display of affection sends your heart racing. 

You’ve been questioning whether or not this is a date, or if it’s simply friends hanging out together. Friends that happen to have the wildest sex you’ve ever experienced. 

He points to a large fish swimming by, but you don’t catch any of the words he’s saying. The only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his warm fingers squeezing around yours from his excitement. 

You stand like this for a while staring at all the sea life, but the way his thumb rubs against your hand keeps distracting you. “Josh?”

“Hmm?” He hums but keeps his gaze on the tank. His hazy eyes sparkle as they dance from fish to fish. 

“Do you come here a lot?”

He snorts a breathy laugh, “No. Can you believe that? But I’m glad we did.”

“How come?”

The question finally causes him to break away and look directly at you. You want to kiss him, snuggle up in the comfort of his hoodie, and stay like that for hours. He smiles wide, bringing out the dimple on his left cheek. “I think we needed to get away from the bullshit for a while.”

“The bullshit?”

He lets go of your hand and steps closer to the glass, now a couple of inches away. “Yeah. It’s healthy to step back from all the chaos and connect with nature when you can. Forget our problems for the moment to remember how delicate and beautiful life is. That we are just one facet in the great cosmos.”

You lean in, whispering so others can’t hear, “How high are you?”

He giggles with a sigh, “Pretty high.” You pull him back by a handful of his sweatshirt, making him bump into you. “I’m serious though.”

Even with the closeness, he keeps his touches appropriate. You stretch on your toes and give him a soft peck on his lips. “I bet, but I wanna check out the sharks.”

You look for the shark exhibit, following the path of blue arrows through several escalators and moving walkways. Everything is going well, but the aquarium is far colder than you anticipated, and now you’re cursing at yourself for not bringing along a sweater like Josh. 

Your violent shivers are too difficult to hide, and he’s quick to notice. He pulls off his hoodie and hands it over, “Here.”

“Thanks.” 

Although the look of it over your sundress isn’t the best fashion statement, it’s the least of your worries. It envelops you like a comforting hug. You nuzzle into it while he looks away, breathing in the fabric that holds his scent —  a calming mix of his cologne, and laundry detergent with the faint smell of cigarettes. 

A few minutes pass as you navigate your way to see the sharks. He’s fidgety, rubbing up and down the length of his bare arms. He then hugs himself as if to hide the tattoos without much success. You’re undoubtedly high, which only makes you hyper-aware of his uneasiness.

Josh has been nothing but confident since the day you met him. He’s never faltered, acting like the tattoos were simply an extension of him. His restlessness — whether it’s weed-induced paranoia or tucked-away self-esteem issues, affects you greatly.  

The behavior is unlike him, and you’re sensitive about it. He holds himself like you’ve stripped him bare and left him completely exposed for judging eyes. You’re not sure what to do other than gently pluck his fingers from his arm that has been pressing into the flesh so hard they’ve created indentations. 

Your touch breaks the spell he’s in, making him swap hands with the one that is closest to you. He squeezes your fingers tightly and gives you a grateful smile as he whispers, “Thank you.”

You study the expression on his face, but his bloodshot eyes zero in on your moving lips. “You okay?” 

He leads you in with his hand, closing the short distance between you. The kiss is deeper, and richer than previous ones today. Even with the tip of his tongue ghosting across your lips, it doesn’t feel sexual. He eventually pulls away, and happily sighs, “Much better.”

After leaving the aquarium, you must have walked around the city for hours. Hand-in-hand, swept away by each other’s presence. By the time you made it back to the deck, the sun had fully set in the sky. Once nearly full to capacity, the deck remains borderline desolate. A few vehicles are scattered amongst the first few floors, but as you climb to the fourth, you spot Josh’s Camry sitting alone. 

Now that the euphoric buzz from your cherry-flavored gummy is starting to settle in your system, the desire to have him is so bad that the hour-long drive seems torturous to think about. Besides the few chaste kisses placed on your cheeks, and the one shared on the escalator, he has yet to kiss you today with the same passion you’re used to. 

You’ve been craving those risky touches, the curious grazes of fingertips under the hemline of your dress. You wished for the lewd, sexual comments whispered against your ear when people were around. Those memories of his mouth roaming across your body have been invading your mind ever since you walked out their front door this morning. His undivided attention, the pin-you-against-the-wall kind of attention is what you’ve been wanting all day. You just never would have thought that him on his best behavior would drive you this mad. 

If he feels the same way, he’s been hiding it better than you. Unbothered from the casual stroll to the car, the goofy grin plastered across his face, to the way he’s belting out random notes into the open space just to hear them echo back. 

After both of you step into the car and get settled, he asks, “Do you wanna go to the bar?”

He pops open the lid of the center console and starts searching for a particular CD to play. As he roots around, you realize that looking at anything other than his lips proves to be a challenge you can’t overcome. 

You forget to answer. He’s still rummaging around the junk crammed in the center console, but your silence makes him laugh, “Or should we head back to the house?”

You shift in your seat toward him, whispering, “Josh.”

“What’s up?” His eyes flick up, meeting yours. 

While you’re not usually the one to make the first move, giving in to a temptation that’s been gnawing relentlessly for hours never felt so rewarding. Your lips crash against his, abrupt and unrestrained. Your kiss is heady, starving for even the faintest taste. Impatience doesn’t even begin to explain what you’re feeling. You take the initiative by licking into his parted mouth, searching and demanding for what’s been so out of reach. 

He meets your tongue with his, greeting you with a matched passion. That subtle sweetness, the crisp bite of mint gum — it cuts out any forethought you might possess in an instant. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, venturing further with him when there’s a possibility that an onlooker can walk right on by. The risk of being caught becomes meaningless, lost in the orange glow of the outside lamps.

The hungry kiss might have been the end of this moment — left with a palmed breast and a few nips of teeth. The whine through a bated breath with the following moan tumbling right into your mouth changes everything. It’s what propels you forward over the console and onto his lap. The crawl to him is less than graceful with your clumsy limbs knocking into everything in your path. 

As you struggle to get settled on his legs, he leans back against the headrest with open arms. He watches with a prideful smirk, confidently basking in the knowledge that you were the first to break. You’ve already braced yourself on his shoulders and started to grind your ass over the rough denim in hopes of catching his hard-on. Amused, he tilts his chin up, keeping his lips barely an inch from yours. “Hi.”

Breathless, you scold, “Shut up and kiss me.”

A deep exhale bellows from his chest while his hands knead the flesh of your thighs beneath the bunched-up fabric of your dress. He ignores your request, biting back the lip you so desperately want for yourself. Frustrated, you roll your hips in an attempt to send his open hands closer to your ass. 

Your sense of control wavers with the whimper, “Josh, please.”

 A curious hum resides in this throat and his fingertips ghost the delicate edge of your thong stretched across your hip. At this point, you would do anything to have him. That gummy from this afternoon fails in comparison to the drug that is him. You bury your face into the warmth of his neck, sucking at the tender skin below his jawline. 

He giggles as if the feeling tickles and sends one hand up the length of your back instead of between your legs like you want.“What’s got you so worked up, baby?”

“You,” you mumble, tightening the hold you have on the nape of his neck as if you could somehow bring yourself closer. The tight space of the driver seat confines you, heightening every movement tenfold. 

“Me?” The cockiness in his voice reminds you of Jake more than you’d like to admit, but the single word spoken into your temple makes you tremble. Driving yourself further into his groin, you end up clenching around nothing but the memory. “I got you so desperate that you can’t even wait until we got home?”

The hints of his erection, knowing that it’s there but hidden from your grasp destroy every facet of your self-control. He’s right. The thought of waiting for him is truly unbearable. You lean back on his legs, giving yourself the space to reach between you and find the button of his jeans. You’re able to pop it open before his hand clasps around your wrist, stopping you. “Baby, I’m shocked. I didn’t take you for the public sex type.”

“Are we going to fuck or not?” It was supposed to leave your lips with power but hit the air between you as a pathetic plea. 

Just like the words acting as the ripcord to his own urges, he tears apart your thong between his hands in a swift pull. After hearing your stunned yelp, he bares his teeth to the vulnerable skin of your throat and lets a laugh flutter across your ear, “Oops.”

He flings your shredded panties somewhere into the backseat and cups the curve of your ass with a firm hand, lifting you enough so he can work himself out of the leg of his jeans. Unlike the teasing banter seconds before, he wastes no time dragging the head of cock through your wetness. 

The way his teeth sink into the thin flesh covering your collarbone gives away how badly he wants this as well. After a less-than-gentle pass and in a single thrust, he pushes his entire length inside you. 

“Oh fuck!” You cry out, the sound low and guttural. He stretches you and crashes into your cervix before you have a chance to adjust to his size. He keeps himself there, allowing the stinging pain to subside within seconds, replacing it with that addicting full feeling. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, you welcome that pain — a reminder of how you’ve been acting lately. It should be no surprise how quickly your body remembers him despite how long it’s been since he’s been buried inside you.

He sighs into the hollow point of your neck, muttering the sweet confession, “I’ve missed this.” 

You settle your weight on his lap, only allowing him to rock his hips in the seat. You tighten around him, soaking his cock in your pleasure. “I missed you, too.”

He stops moving to drink you in, kissing and licking a path along your shoulder. “Fuck, I love your pussy so much…best I’ve ever had.”

Your heart skips a beat from the thought alone, but you’re greedy for his praise. You push yourself back with your hands placed on his chest, giving yourself room to see his face. “The best, huh?”

That smug grin reappears while his heavy-lidded eyes drift slowly up to yours. You take in the details of his face, how the shadows accentuate his sharper features. “Yeah…would I lie to you?”

He flusters you, making your line of sight fall from his glazed eyes down to your restless hands. You watch yourself play with the fraying neckline of his t-shirt, asking, “Would you?” 

He tips his chin, keeping his focus solely on your lips before bringing his own close enough to whisper, “Never.”

In a matter of seconds, his hands skim across the fabric of your dress to find the thin straps. Hooking them under his thumbs, he slips them down your arms, taking the front of your dress with them. In a frantic need, he yanks the cropped, black t-shirt you’ve been wearing under your dress up over your chest. 

Now that it’s freed and exposed, he sucks your naked breast into his mouth and licks a broad stripe across your hardening nipple. You force yourself to look up to check if anyone is walking by, only to see that the windows are beginning to fog from the heat of your shared breaths. They’re clinging to every inch of your skin, causing a sheen of sweat to collect across your furrowed brow. And yet, a chill climbs up the length of your spine from his tongue rolling over your bare tits. 

The uncomfortable position is posing a unique challenge for you both. Since both knees are wedged and starting to ache from plastic digging into your flesh, you’re unable to ride him the way you want. Josh, however, doesn’t let the restrictions of the Camry ruin the moment if he can help it. The moans tumbling from your lips act as his cue to wrap his arms around the small of your back, locking you in place.

It should’ve been a warning to you. 

Something animalistic suddenly possesses him, shredding any remaining innocence. He snaps his hips up, thrusting into you with a strength you didn’t realize existed within him. He takes on all the work, holding you above him while you’re left to brace yourself in any way you can. 

Pornographic sounds —  sounds you wouldn’t dare make in the past break free from your chest. He’s thriving off them, knowing that if he was fucking you without these limitations you would be reduced to an even more pathetic, incoherent mess. 

He’s not shy about making his own noises. His rumbled growl vibrates between your breasts. Primal grunts are trapped behind his clenched teeth. It could be because he’s out of breath or that he’s closer than he thought, but he starts to slow his pace, shifting to more of a grinding motion. 

“Oh my god. You feel so fucking good,” You pant. Half-whines, half-barely recognizable curses fall from your open mouth. “Please, please, please.” You’re rambling, blurting out any broken, strung-together thought you can. “Josh…I… I…fuck—don’t stop. ”

His raspy laugh pushes through strained vocal cords, “I’m listening, baby.”

He tries to move and adjust to get a better position, sending the edge of the steering wheel into your lower back. “Ow!” You hiss, rubbing the spot with your fingers. 

“Shit. Sorry, baby.” Although he gives you an apologetic look, you can’t help but giggle at his expense. He returns it, huffing, “Fuck it. Get in the backseat.”

Without more protest than a pained groan, you lift yourself off of his cock and stretch out your weak limbs before clambering over the center console into the backseat. You’re not forced to live with your awkward tumble into the seat for long. He quickly follows, climbing over with far more agility than you.

His twitching, glistening cock pulled out from his unbuttoned jeans, and those sweaty curls sticking to his forehead is a sight you’ll never forget. You watch him as he reaches into the front passenger seat for his sweatshirt. He balls it up and places it under your head as a makeshift pillow. 

“Acting like you’ve done this before,” you tease, clutching the golden sun that hangs from his neck.

He laughs, lowering his head with your guiding hand. “I’ve had to get creative a time or two.” 

“Such a slut.” 

He places a kiss on your lips, mumbling, “Don’t forget…” He breaks away, taking the sloppy kisses along your jaw to your ear, making your stomach flip as if it were an Olympic gymnast. “You were the one that jumped me.” 

He kneels on the seat, kicking your open legs with his knee while pushing your dress to your stomach. Taking his cock in his hand, he lets a trail of spit fall into himself. With a few pumps of his fist, he shudders out a heavy breath, “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me not to fuck you this morning?”

He lets the head of his lubed cock slide across your clit. You lift your hips, chasing him. “I wanted you so bad.”

He lines himself with your entrance and glides in effortlessly. The gratification it gives you is instant. He finds a rhythm and braces himself with each hand gripped onto your thighs. “I know, baby. Trust me. I’ve been thinking about you all week… I’m so addicted to you.” 

You let him stare, watching how his eyes bounce with your moving tits down to his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. As much as you love it, you need him close. You have to feel his warmth and the weight of his body on top of you, have his scent fill your delirious brain, and have those sounds fan across the shell of your ear. 

You find his wrist and tug him to you, gesturing for him to fall forward. He repositions and hitches your leg around his waist while planting his foot on the floor. 

He slides an arm beneath you with his other hand gripping onto the cushion for balance. The change in angle makes him feel deeper than before. You hug him, silently pleading with him to stay. A satisfied pur echoes in his throat, transferring the sound to your wet lips pressed against his skin. “You want it, baby?” 

You reply with a hushed whimper, hoping that he can hear, “I’m so close.” 

He breathes you in and sends his voice directly into your ear. “I can’t wait to fill you up the way you deserve.” You didn’t understand how spoiled you have become until he deprived you of it. So much so that it had turned you into a creature of pure depravity. You clutch onto his damp t-shirt, wrinkling it in your fists across his back. 

“Please, Josh. I need it,” you choke out in a pitiful sob.

He comforts you with a reassuring shush, brushing the tacky hair from your temple. “Look at you. So perfect. Begging for my cum like a good girl.” 

His cock slips inside your pussy with a taunting drag. He talks to you, peppering the words with a sweep of his lips across your cheek, “You’re gonna be so full of me, swollen and beautiful.” Being vocal with you is nothing new, but tonight he can’t seem to hold himself back.  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.” 

You say his name over and over like a mantra. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans through a deliberate roll of his hips that pushes the head of his cock against your g-spot. “If you weren’t on birth control I swear I’d get you pregnant so fucking fast.” 

He says it with such conviction making you think that it’s not something he accidentally blurted out in the moment. It shocks you into silence at first. The incredibly slim possibility has never been brought to your attention before now. It’s a thought that should scare the shit out of you, but somehow it doesn’t. If anything, it nearly sends you crashing over the edge. 

He lifts his head to look into your eyes, searching for your thoughts within them. “You like that idea? Me filling up your pretty pussy and getting you knocked up?”

You nod and smile at him— albeit a fucked out one. Maybe you’re too afraid to say the full confession, so you only respond with a hum, “Mmhmm.”

He kisses you, slipping his tongue over yours like an expertly-timed dance. A teasing flick of it followed by a nip to your bottom lip transforms you into a puddle beneath him. “Just say the words, sweetheart.” 

“I…I…” You start to stammer before eventually stopping yourself. You know that there’s not a chance in hell you’ll be able to come up with anything coherent for him.

He draws the pad of his thumb across your chin while continuing to talk through his languid thrusts, “You’d be breathtaking. Belly round with my baby… those perfect tits of yours filled with milk. Fuck. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” 

The fantasy he paints for you overrides your mind. You have to look away and blink back the tears clouding your vision. For a second, the only thing you can process is the view of the roof of his old Camry. 

“I’m so close to cumming just thinking about it,” he admits, bringing his hand between your legs to find your clit. His lust-drugged fingers slip through your slick in the blind search until you jolt at the feeling. The heat of your building orgasm has been pooling between your legs and now you’re mere seconds away from plummeting right over the cliff. All you can do is accept fate as he circles the bundle of nerves with a gentle pressure. 

He traces your favorite patterns while gracing your conscience with that sinful lilt of his, “One word and I’ll give it all to you.” He pushes you to the tipping point by matching the rhythm of his fingers with the glide of his cock. “If it were up to me, baby? I’d have you full and dripping with my cum every fucking day of the week.” 

“Please.” 

Right as you claw at his flexed shoulder blades and drive him deeper with your locked legs, he gives a final request after speaking your name, “Let me hear you. I deserve that, right?” 

He does, and you’re beyond willing to give it all to him — the embarrassing groans ripping through your chest, the pitched whines and the delicate moans that chase them. Your walls flutter around his cock, tightening around him through your orgasm. 

“You’re so perfect.” Is his final praise into the tacky skin on your neck. It leaves his lips through a faint whimper as you slowly milk him dry. As the warmth spill into you, he continues to gently fuck you through the waves of your release.

After slowing a stop and carefully withdrawing his softening cock, he breaks the hold you have on him by sitting back on his heels. Looking down at your pussy through drowsy lids, he sweeps his middle finger through your slit and brings them to his mouth. You watch in awe as he passes it over his flattened tongue to lick them clean.

“You look so fucking hot,” he mutters with a ragged breath. Even though the words are crass, stripped of anything remotely poetic, they’re honest. He glances up, sending you a wink. “Better keep all of it in until we get back.”

You wish you could lay in his bed with him, letting the shared high come down peacefully. But reality comes crashing in, reminding you that time is not on your side. He takes a minute to collect his breath and collapses against the backseat, running his fingers through his soaked hair as he pushes out a dramatic sigh, “Well that’s new.”

You haven’t dared to move — not even a single inch from the fear of adding another stain to the cushion beneath you. “So…is that a kink for you?”

He blows a raspberry with a shake of his head, blurting out, “I guess…maybe. Yes? I dunno. Did I freak you out?”

You snort a laugh, “Surprisingly, no.”

He takes a long pause, and you can feel his eyes on you while he tries to decipher your reaction. “Interesting.”

“What?”

He buttons his jeans and plucks the pack of cigarettes from inside the cup holder of the center console. “I just— and don’t take this the wrong way — but can you imagine getting pregnant from this?” 

Before you can think about it, quickly adds, “I mean, in my shitty car in a parking deck after we spent the day at an aquarium high off our asses.” You can only stare at him, which does nothing but make him more nervous. Embarrassed, he mumbles around the filter of his cigarette, “Forget I said that,” 

You interrupt by extending your hand. “Lemme have one.”

You catch the surprised rise of his brows before he scrambles to light the one hanging from his lip. He then offers it between his fingers, and he watches you take a slow drag and cough out, “Jake would be so furious.”

You both burst out into a fit of laughter, releasing any tension that might have settled between you. Smoke starts filling the car, pressuring you to finally make the move to sit up. He shuffles around, finding another t-shirt from the floor before climbing to the front of the car. Once in the driver’s seat, he lays it out across the passenger seat for you as you make your way over. 

You settle while he starts the car, pulling in a second drag now that the window is down. It burns, leaving a pungent taste that trickles down your throat. “You would be a terrible dad by the way.”

He looks out and drums his fingers against the top of the steering wheel. “I think I could hold my own? Teach the little tike a few things.” Silence falls as he drives through the levels of the parking deck. His voice softens with the following sentiment, “You would be an incredible mom though.”

“Really?”

He takes a hand off the wheel and reaches over to rub your shoulder. “No doubt in my mind.”

You could get lost in those words. The thoughts and the emotions that accompany them —  they could all bubble up and spill out if you let them. Instead of falling into the depth of that rabbit hole, you choose to add levity like you always do. “Would be one helluva cute kid.”

A wave of attitude is brought to the surface, making him pipe up with a pointed finger. “I’d give you the cutest fucking baby to ever exist.”

You smack his hand down playfully. “Josh, you’re a twin.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m the better looking one anyway,” he blows out the sassy remark through a cloudy exhale. 

“You know you’d have to quit smoking if you ever became a dad.”

“I know, I know. I gotta quit,” he grumbles, flicking the ash off his cigarette out of the window. He looks over at. you, giving you an affectionate, knowing smile. There’s something in those eyes you can’t quite place, making your heart ache too much to try. “You hungry?”

“Fucking starving.” 

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler21 @jakekiszkasbabymama @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @autopsy-im-ill l @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @lightmylove-gvf @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1

[oqossum-art]

Something is brewing again…

I left my art job and now I’m able to draw for myself again and I’m actually happy… all I can think about are these guys.

5 years later.

[somekindofpoet]

Skin Deep IV

Summary: Our favorite psychopaths are back with a plan to get the Sheriff off their tails

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, GF!Reader, GF!Tara, violence, smut. 

A/N: I forgot how fun it is to write unhinged Tara. Enjoy you gremlins! Also, sorry if my proof reading sucks on this one, I have a date to get ready for tonight!

Part I Part II Part III Part V

Tara is in handcuffs. She’s snarling at the officer with his hands on her shoulders, spitting mad, and struggling with the intensity of a 200 pound linebacker. You can’t move. Your feet are too heavy, your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth, and your arms are locked at your side. 

Your heart begins to race. Your robe rustles in the wind, the mask over your face makes it hard to breathe. You squeeze the handle of the knife in your hand. They can’t see you. You’re standing in the middle of the road. You feel the ground beneath you cracking, opening up around you. You lock eyes with Tara. She can see you.

You shoot up in your bed, gasping for air, soaked in sweat. The sheets and your pillow are cold, damp. Your heart pounds in your chest as your shaking hands run over your face. This is the third night in a row you’ve had this dream. 

You take a deep, unsteady breath and roll out of bed. You peel off your wet clothes and pull on a fresh tank top, and sweats. Your hands are beginning to slow their trembling as you tie your shoelaces. The clock on your nightstand reads 1:37 AM. 

The house is so quiet it makes your ears ring, making tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs monumentally difficult. When you slip out the front door, the night air is cool, damp from a rainstorm in the early hours. Your car rumbles to a start, and you freeze, eyeing the second-floor window where your parents are sleeping. The light doesn’t come on, so you put it in drive and let it roll down the driveway, waiting to hit the gas until you’ve slowly rolled down the street. 

Tara’s bedroom light is on when you park on the street in front of her house. You sit in the car for a minute, wondering if she’s awake or if she fell asleep with the light on. Her driveway is empty, so you know she’s home alone. You climb out of the car and crane your neck up to look in her window again, and you can see her shadow cross behind the curtains. What she’s doing up is a mystery to you, but you’re glad she is. You want to seek comfort in her. She’s always so sure about everything, so confident in her decisions. It’s just the kind of influence you need after three straight nights of nightmares. 

Her front door is unlocked. You let yourself in and turn the lock behind you. She may not worry about someone stumbling in, but you are constantly vigilant. You step out of your shoes and creep up the stairs, avoiding the one you know creaks. The carpet makes it easier than your house to sneak down the hall and peek into her cracked door. 

Quiet music is playing from a record player in the corner. Tara is cross-legged on the bed, bobbing her head, a sketchbook in her lap, and a pile of colored pencils splayed out around her. Seeing her like this makes you feel better already. Right now, she’s not a serial killer, a psychopath, or a monster. She’s just Tara Carpenter. 

You take stock of how the thought makes you feel. It’s like champagne in your veins, warm and cool at the same time, fizzing in your belly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you might actually be in love with her. 

The idea makes the champagne feeling explode, and you’re not sure you like it. 

You push the door open and step into the room, waiting for her to jump or bare her teeth in surprise. Instead, she smiles down at her book, not looking up at you, and continues her drawing.

“Hello, y/n.”

You falter, frowning in defeat, “You heard me coming?”

She shrugs and finally looks up at you, pieces of her hair falling into her face. 

“Bad dreams?”

“How did you-“

“I’ve been having them too. Well, I assume they’re similar dreams,” she pauses to scratch the tip of her nose with the back of the colored pencil, “come sit and tell me your woes.”

You trudge over and flop on your back next to her, sending the pencils bouncing around the blankets. She swats your leg with the one in her hand, the wood cracking across your thigh with a sting that makes you hiss.

“What’s that for?!” You whine, sitting up to rub your leg.

“If you lose one of my pencils, I will stab you with one,” she tells you, pointing the red pencil between your eyes.

You open your mouth to argue, but she narrows her eyes, and you think better of it, snapping your jaw shut. She smiles, nods once, and turns back to her book. You sigh, gather the pencils around you, and delicately set them between your knees before laying back on her pillow.

“I keep dreaming about you getting arrested.”

She tilts her head, turning one ear toward you. It’s her way of telling you she’s listening without actually facing you.

“I’m always standing in the street, watching it happen, and I can’t do anything about it. It’s like I’m a ghost that only you can see.”

She places her pencil in the spine of her notebook and closes it, setting it aside to turn toward you. Her hand rests over the exact spot she’d hit you, the warmth radiating from her seeping through your sweats. 

“Hm. Do you feel relieved? In your dream?” She asks, her eyes soft.

You shake your head no, “I feel angry. Helpless.”

Her lips quirk up at the sides, she seems pleased with your answer. Her hand runs up your leg a few inches.

“I keep seeing us walk out my front door. There are spotlights on us and news crews. Everyone is screaming and wants our autographs. It’s disgusting.” Her face contorts, emphasizing the distaste she has for the idea. 

You snort, the image so clear in your head it’s comical. It makes her smile down at you. She scoots up the bed and lays her head on your shoulder, her hand resting on your stomach. 

“I would rather die than be in handcuffs, y/n. In fact, if we ever do get caught, I will make sure they kill me.”

“What about me?”

“They’ll kill you too. Or I will.”

You hum in thought, your fingers trailing down her arm. It’s not a terrible idea. A cyanide pill between the teeth of your lover. You find it all very romantic. 

“You couldn’t kill me,” you murmur into her hair.

She stiffens, then rolls on top of you with another pencil in her hand. She sits up on your hips, leaving the sharpened edge pressing into the hollow of your throat. You grin like the Cheshire Cat, and she frowns down at you.

“Why are you smiling like that? You look like an idiot.”

“Well, I’ve got you where I want you don’t I?” You say, glancing down at her hips, your hands over her thighs. 

Her glare pulls into an unwilling smile. She tries to fight it, but you can see every detail on her face; you have her memorized by now. She makes a show of grinding into you, gasping lightly, and dropping down to leave a soft kiss on your lips. 

You’re sure you’re getting lucky until she rolls off of you and begins collecting her pencils. You jut your bottom lip out in a pout and sit up on your elbows, watching her gather her art supplies and leave them on her desk. She glances over and waves you off, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“Don’t pout, I’m on my period.”

“So?”

She purses her lips and levels you with an impatient glare, “So, I’m tired and don’t feel like cleaning up a mess. Take your pants off, though, I hate it when you sleep in sweats.”

You huff but do as you’re told, stripping down to your boxers and pulling back her sheets. You’re already over it by the time she crawls into bed next to you, tucking herself into your chest. She falls asleep almost instantly, and before you realize it, your breathing evens out, and for a few blessed hours, your sleep is dreamless.

——

You wake to an empty bed. The pale pink pillow beside you is cold, the sheets pulled back. You roll onto your back, listening for signs of life. 

A quiet, distant shuffling catches your attention and the smell of coffee. You close your eyes and stretch with a smile. She’s making you breakfast. 

You forgo your sweats and pad down the hall in your underwear, eager to gulp down a mug of coffee and convince Tara to shower with you after. You freeze in your tracks at the top of the stairs when the doorbell rings. Curious, you wait, ears pricked as Tara answers the door. 

When it opens, you hear the chatter of a radio, and you can feel the tension in Tara’s voice when she says, “Good morning, Sheriff. What brings you by?”

You can hear the smile plastered to her lips, can practically see her bubbly persona washing over the Sheriff. You decide to linger out of sight until you know why she’s there. 

“Tara,” Sheriff Hicks replies, her voice is thick with grief. It has been since Wes was murdered. Since you killed him. “Are you home alone?”

“My girlfriend is upstairs,” Tara chirps, loud enough for you to hear clearly. 

“Ah, that’s actually who I want to talk to you about. Do you have a moment?”

“Oh, actually Sheriff, I-“

You choose this moment to noisily make your way downstairs, stretching and yawning, interrupting their conversation. You scratch your head as you reach the landing and shoot the Sheriff a lopsided smile.

“Morning Sheriff,” you wrap your arms around Tara’s waist and rest your chin on the top of her head, “you want some coffee?”

She watches you wrap yourself around Tara with visible disdain. Though you’d never actually been in trouble with the law, there was an unspoken agreement you would be eventually. She and the previous Sheriff had always made it clear they were wary of you. It had never been a problem before, but now, with your guilt and your nightmares, seeing her at Tara’s doorstep fills you with dread. 

She shakes her head and steps back out the door, pulling her notepad from her hip pocket.

“No coffee, thank you. But if you don’t mind, where were you the night Mikayla was killed?”

You frown, release Tara and step in front of her, “Ma’am, I already spoke to your deputies about this.”

She squints, nods, “I just want to double-check.”

You can feel Tara’s fingers on your wrist, lightly brushing your skin. She wants you to stay cool, not lose your temper. It works, to your shock.

“I was at a party. My friends can confirm that. Then I went home, where my parents saw me.”

Sheriff Hicks clicks her pen and nods slowly, eyeing her notes, “It’s difficult to corroborate your alibi, seeing as one of your friends was also killed.”

You clench your jaw, your irritation rising, “Don’t bother with tact, Sheriff. I just lost a close friend. No big deal.”

Tara slips herself under your arm, wraps her arm around your waist. Reminding you to breathe.

The way the Sheriff is staring at you feels like a Western standoff. She wants to pin you for this; it’s apparent. She gulps, blinks away tears that spring up in her eyes.

“I lost my son. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little overzealous in finding the person responsible.”

Tara reaches her hand out to rest lightly on the Sheriff’s forearm, her eyes brimming with tears, “He was my friend, Judy. I want justice for him too.”

Sheriff Hicks swallows hard and softens. She sighs, drops her notepad back into her pocket with the pen. She squeezes the bridge of her nose and nods again.

“Thank you for your time. Please don’t hesitate to contact me with any information, okay?”

You both nod solemnly and watch her walk back to her patrol car. The simmering in your veins makes it hard to stay still, even with Tara under your arm. 

She closes the door and pulls you into the kitchen, where you slump onto a stool at the island. A cup of coffee is slid under your nose, and a kiss is pressed to your cheek, and you feel lighter.

“We have to kill her,” you growl over your coffee mug, but it comes out like more of a whine.

Tara leans on the island and smirks, “We will, baby, just not yet.”

“Who’s next?” 

“I believe it’s your turn to choose.”

“Chad.”

“No.”

You scoff, lean back on the stool, “You said it’s my turn!”

The smile she gives you feels like one reserved for a child, “First, no. Because he would break your neck. And two, I actually enjoy his company.”

You grit your teeth, “That’s why I want to kill him.”

She chuckles and leaves the island to finish cooking breakfast. Your eyes track her every move, the sway of her hips, how she stands on her tiptoes at the stove, the delicate flick of her wrist when she flips a pancake. 

“If you killed everyone who flirted with me, you’d have an impossibly long list.” She says over her shoulder.

You shrug, pouting into your coffee mug, and mumble, “Sounds like a win in my book.”

“No, we need someone unrelated. Lead the Sheriff off our trail,” she turns and points at you with the spatula, “Actually, we should find someone to pin this all on. Send the police sniffing after them instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, your bad mood dissipating as quickly as it formed, “You’re diabolical, Tara Carpenter.”

She grins, “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

——

Tara is right; you hate her plan. For some reason, giving credit for your hard work to some stranger irritates you to no end. Obviously, you don’t want to rot in prison or see Tara die to avoid it. But finding some loser on Reddit to pass the blame (credit) over to feels like letting the lazy football star cheat off your test while you fail. 

“This dude is a fucking dweeb Tara. He’s all talk.”

You’re standing behind her at the computer, looking at a photo of Tara’s sister and her boyfriend. She pulls up his Reddit profile and scrolls through his posts on the Stab thread. 

“He doesn’t need to be a killer baby. He just needs to sound like one. And this guy is unhinged.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He’s perfect.”

——

Holding the Bowie knife without the Ghostface robe and mask feels foreign. It feels heavier, more consequential. Knowing you’re going to sink the blade into your girlfriend makes it feel like a double-edged sword in your hands. 

Tara’s bedroom feels too small, the air too thick. You drop the knife on her bed and shake your head. 

“What if we just say they broke in and we got away? I don’t get why we have to do this,” you groan and sit on the edge of the bed.

Tara’s nostrils flare in irritation, the glint in her eye telling you she’s losing patience with you.

“I told you already, no one would believe we didn’t even get a scratch if Ghostface attacked us.”

She pushes your knees apart and rests her hands on your shoulders, her eyes steely and cold. Seeing her in this state, the cool calculated certainty on her face makes your stomach flip. It always reminds you of the night at Mikayla’s, dangerous and erotic. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you grumble, not meeting her eyes.

She wraps her fingers around your throat and squeezes, dipping her head down, “I can make you want to hurt me.”

You look up at her in defiance, your jaw clenched. She’s right, in a way. But stabbing her is not the kind of hurt you want to inflict on her. Her grip around your throat tightens, making your breath whistle through your nose. She smirks, and you decide stabbing her can wait.

You stand and scoop her up, her legs wrapping around your waist and her hands leaving your throat to loop around the back of your neck. You’re playing into her hand, you’re aware of it, but you don’t care. Plus, you have a surprise for her today. 

You drop her on her bed and are satisfied at her surprise. She frowns up at you as you leave her, heading for the backpack you left in the kitchen. She follows you wordlessly, curious about your intent. You glance back and note the knife hanging loosely in her fingers. She leaves it on the counter when you unzip your bag and stands on her toes, trying to see what you’re doing.

You don’t miss the excitement that flashes through her when you pull the harness out, the dildo already strapped to it. You let it hang off your finger, dangle it in front of her.

Her eyebrow raises, a dangerous smirk on her lips, “And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?”

You tilt your head, “Don’t you want to find out?”

Her eyes grow dark, and she steps toward you. She takes the strap from you and sets it next to the knife, pulls you into her roughly. You smile down at her, appreciating the way her lips part as her tongue wets them. She pulls you down and kisses you, frantic and excited, her teeth nipping at your lip, her tongue quickly chasing them. From an outside perspective, it probably looks more like a fight than what it actually is.

Your clothes are gone in a hurry, dishes left on the counter clattering to the floor in your haste. When she shoves you shirtless into the living room, you knock over a lamp, and she drags you down onto the rug, the strap-on tossed at your side. Your pants and underwear are ripped from your legs, hers following after. Furniture and decor have become casualties in the midst of the power struggle, which suits your case. By the time you’re done here, it really will appear as if someone broke in. Especially if Tara keeps it up. 

She thinks she’s in control when the harness is around your waist. You cinch it tight and allow her to take the lead. 

“I want you right now. Hurry up,” she growls, her eyes wild.

You slow your fingers, hold her gaze. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breathing erratic. When she tries to pull you in, you shake your head no, and hold out an arm to stop her. She seethes, her impatience rolling off her like heat waves.

“On your knees,” you tell her, your voice level and calm.

An internal struggle begins, her eyes searching your face for an answer to a question she’s unsure of. Does she trust you enough? 

You wait, unmoving, until she complies. When she does, the pure satisfaction that envelops you is inebriating. You pull her back into your hips, and she gasps as the dildo presses into her leg. 

“How are you going to explain rug burn, y/n,” she says, watching you over her shoulder, “Did I grovel and beg Ghostface not to kill me?”

You can’t help the fury that washes over you at the thought of her on her knees for someone else. You push the tip inside her, reveling in her barely contained groan. Slowly, you sink all the way into her, reach for her throat, and pull her up into your chest. You bite her shoulder, squeezing her throat.

“I’ll tell the Sheriff I fucked you on your knees, and that you begged me not to stop.”

With that, you release her throat and push her down to her elbows, your hands sliding down her back until they reach her hips and grip hard enough to leave bruises. You pull back and push into her, the uninhibited moans that leave her throat sending a chill down your spine. Every thrust of your hips sends her rocking forward, her elbows and knees reddening as the carpet rubs her skin raw.

She pushes up onto her hands after a few minutes, and you lean over to kiss the skin between her shoulder blades. You only half feel bad for the rug burn; the other half of you eats it up. The wet sound of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with her voice as she cries out your name. It’s gratifying, having her like this. Out of control and whining, pushing back into you, her hands shifting across the carpet. You don’t stop until she’s trembling, her arms shaking under her weight. You slow your hips, gently coax her down and pull out of her. 

She shivers and tucks her leg to roll onto her back, pulling you down to meet her. Her hand slides between your bodies and lines the dildo back up, slipping it in as you drop your weight down on her. You kiss her slowly, building your rhythm back up slowly.

Her hands pull you down by your hips, and you smile into her mouth. She turns her head, encouraging you to dive into her neck, and you oblige her. 

“You know how I feel about teasing,” she sighs, her lips brushing your ear.

The idea to string her along is there, but you know deep down hearing her cum is better than teasing her. 

“You’re a brat,” you whisper in her ear and push yourself onto your hands to give yourself room to pick up your pace.

She grins at you, even has the gall to wink, “Fuck it out of me then.”

And you do. You fully realize it defeats the purpose of you give her what she wants, but who wouldn’t? You can’t deny her, and she knows it. So you fuck her until her body tremors, her eyes roll back, and her nails rake down your back. You kiss her chin when you pull out of her and admire the shiver that starts in her shoulders and ends in her toes. Sitting back between her legs, you unbuckle the harness and slide it off, tossing it to the side. 

She sits up and crawls into your lap, straddling your thighs. 

“Are you ready for the fun part?”

“Don’t pull a Billy and actually kill me,” you say, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She shakes her head, her eyes softening, “You were right. I couldn’t kill you.”

——

The police show up twenty minutes after Tara calls them, screaming and crying. Her sweater is coated in blood, most of it her own, some of it yours. Getting stabbed fucking sucked. Bleeding out wasn’t as bad. 

You slip in and out of consciousness when the paramedics arrive, fussing over the wounds on your side. Tara refuses to leave you, leaning over you as they try to patch both of you up. You hear snippets of the frantic conversation with the Sheriff, who had done this, how big were they, what did they smell like. Tara asks her to call Sam and tell her to return to Woodsboro. The plan the two of you have orchestrated working out perfectly. 

When you’re loaded into the back of the ambulance, Tara is at your side. 

“Your parents are going to meet us at the hospital. You’re okay, we’re okay.”

Once again, you marvel at how amazing of an actress she is. You think maybe it’s her calling. You try to tell her, but your eyes are rolling shut, and the drugs they’re pumping into your veins are dragging you under. The last thing you see is her wicked smile and a wink as her lips press into your forehead.

[pathologicalquitter]

she literally got what every girl dreams of (big library bedroom) and she was like ”thanks but i’d rather look at you” and she was so real for it

[milaeryn]

Kiss me again, it's working ✨

I think I've never get tired of drawing Rumbelle fanarts... This is my fav moment of OUAT. Happy Skin Deep day to you all!

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Okay several shots of this part of the scene.

First off, she's barely started to fall here. And he's prepped and ready to catch her and cradle her head from safety.

And here she is, I can see the "quick belle think of something... looks like I'm really FALLING for you."

This looks like the cover of a trashy romance novel. Heroine and hero in a compromising position. Her bodice straining, his chest gleaming.

Cant tell if it's the sun or belle blinding him.

On another note his eyes look... hazy? Like cataracts made of the milky way.

The beginning of his disbelieving face in regards to her.

She's just watching him watch her.

*he looked at me, and i looked at him.*

He just looks so shocked at his own actions. That she's in his arms.

That she isn't running away as fast as she can.

Another bodice ripping book cover.

She's so pretty.

You can just see the gears clicking.

Oh

[bookwormchocaholic]

Though I'm not as active in the Rumbelle fandom as I once was, they still mean the world to me. They've influenced my life, my views, and everything I write. I tend to forget that Valentine's Day is not February 12th, because the 12th is special to us Rumbellers. Still on the lookout for my Rumple.

Happy Skin Deep Day!

[skindeepcomic]

Today is the last page of Obverse & Reverse! I've been working on this arc since 2019, wow! Thanks for reading everybody!

Starting next Monday, I will be running Reader Questions every weekday until the comic returns! The hiatus might be a little long, I have a LOT of work to do before I'm ready for the next chapter!

Thank you for reading Skin Deep!

[korybing]

Happy September! It's time for the Skin Deep Pin Club! This quarter the pin club is CRYPTID THEMED and if you join in September and stay joined through November, you'll get these FOUR cryptid pins in November! You can read more information over on my Patreon!

[yellowbugifs]

68/365 days of regina mills

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 10.1

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka, Josh Kiszka x f!reader x male OC

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: This chapter is going to be broken into three separate parts for the sake of keeping it from being too long and to have consistent updates.

**While this part doesn’t have explicit queer sex scenes, it does set up for it for following parts. If this is something that does not interest you, this is your warning for the entirely of chapter 10. **

I’m quite anxious about this one you guys. I love this OC so much and I’m stoked to share and introduce him to this universe. It’s not perfectly edited so be gentle for that.

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

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, LGBTQ dynamic between characters/themes

Masterpost, Part 9 2/2

It’s late evening — way past the regular business hours, so you have to use the spare key the boys made for you and enter through the back door of the shop. You clumsily shuffle through the hallway due to your hands being full from the bags of carry-out you picked up on the way over. 

Sam must’ve already cleaned up and headed out based on the strong odor of glass cleaner assaulting your nose as soon as you walk through the curtains. Music is playing upstairs, which is something you’ve come to expect whenever there’s a human presence in this place. What takes you by surprise is the amount of boisterous laughter cutting through it.  

You wrestle, adjust your loot, and begin making your ascent on the staircase. Jake is in his usual spot when he’s not with a client, hunched over at his desk working on a design, leaving Josh and the man he is tattooing as the culprits for all the noise. Normally, you wouldn’t bat an eye at whoever happens to be in the chair after the last incident, but something about him seems different.

What you can pick up on during the short walk from the stairs toward Jake’s desk is Josh’s comfort with him.  He’s not putting on the customer service mask, laughing at bad jokes, and pretending to be interested in dull stories. He’s engaging in everything the man has to say, maybe borderline flirtatious from what you can already see. 

You step behind Jake, but he doesn’t hear you approach. You lean over and spot the white wireless earbuds he’s wearing and gently tap him on the shoulder, making him jolt a little. He stops drawing to pluck the left one from his ear and turns to face you.

“Hey,” he mumbles softly with a detectable exhaustion weighing on his voice. 

“Hey,” you greet back, hoping that your upbeat tone will help spark some energy in him. After setting the heavy bags of carry-out on the empty space on his desk to free your hands, you begin to massage his shoulders. He doesn’t put up a fight, and instantly drops his pen on the table to lean back into your touch.

“Fuck that feels good,” he groans and rolls his head as you knead the tight knots tangled within his sore muscles. 

“Long day?”

He releases a heavy sigh as you work out the tension in his upper back. “Yeah, and of course my last appointment was a fucking nightmare.”

He sucks in a sharp breath of pain as your thumbs roll over him. He’s stiff from his bad posture, but you don’t mean to cause him more discomfort. You relax your pressure and start rubbing the nape of his neck while you ask, “What happened?”

“Just the typical asshole that wants to micromanage the entire thing gets pissy about the price claiming he can get it cheaper somewhere else, and then whines and cries during the entire thing.”

You slip your hands down his chest as you lower yourself into an embrace and bring your lips to his cheek. “I’m sorry, babe. Sounds like you could use a drink and a hot shower.”

He huffs a dry laugh but leans into you while rubbing his fingers along your forearm. “I’m okay.” He gestures to Josh and his client as he continues, “Been trying to unwind for the past hour but with these fucking dickheads it’s almost impossible.”

“Who is that by the way?”

“Oh, that’s Kai, one of Josh’s friends with ben—“ He quickly catches himself and clears his throat,  “Uhh… I mean he’s a good friend of Josh.”

You try to not take anything he says seriously given the source, but what he’s blurted out takes you by surprise. Your mind isn’t playing tricks because you know you heard him correctly, but you ask anyway, “A friend with what?”

He breaks from your hold and pushes away from the desk while turning to face you in his chair. You’ve caught him and now all he can do is deflect. He shakes his head and waves a hand at you. “No, no, no. Just because you bring me food doesn’t mean you get to pull gossip from me.” Your smile and crossed arms threaten him but he stands his ground. “Go find shit out for yourself. Go on. Shoo!”

You scoff, “Are you fucking serious?”

He takes his food from the bag and starts to set up a spot to open it. “Yes. Now leave me to eat in peace, woman.”

You give him a heavy roll of your eyes even though he’s no longer looking at you and take Josh’s food with you on your short walk over to his area of the shop. He immediately senses your presence and finishes the line before lifting his head in your direction. 

“Hey, baby.” He breaks away from his conversation and looks at you with an infectious smile, and without control, you can’t help but smile back. 

As you step closer, you’re able to get a better look at his friend stretched out along the table. When you first walked in, you could see from a distance that he was covered in tattoos, but now you’re even more surprised that Josh was able to find a free space for another one.

“She gets to be called baby and I don’t?” The suspected Kai scoffs as he combs his inked fingers through his loose, raven-black curls that sit right at the nape of his neck. The calm cadence paired with the crackle of his raspy voice puts off an energy you can’t place. 

Josh giggles as he pulls another line across Kai’s stomach. “Well, for one, when you do the things she does with me, you earn being called baby.” 

He chuckles as if completely unphased by the needle penetrating his skin. “Where can I sign up for that?”

So they are flirting. 

You set Josh’s food down on a table and look over his shoulder to see the piece he’s working on. It’s a hand-sized pair of traditional-style, black, and gray scorpions on each side of Kai’s lower stomach between his hips. With the left side finished and wiped down, the right side is nearly complete. You note the bald spot on Kai’s stomach and imagine the process of Josh having to shave him with a careful hand. 

“How much does something like this cost? With all the detail and everything?” 

Josh answers without a second thought, “For him? No charge.”

“Really?” You hum. 

You flick your eyes up from Josh’s moving hand to catch Kai staring directly at you. His are unwavering, holding a rare intensity from the striking shade of green of his irises —  like polished stones of jade framed by dark lashes. They draw you in, locking you away in their gaze. A part of you feels compelled to break away, as if suddenly too embarrassed to look at him. You don’t, however. You allow your eyes to wander across the many body modifications of his face; the little tattoo on his right cheek, the silver septum ring beneath his nose, the pair of dimple piercings, and the two rings through each side of his bottom lip. 

As he studies you, his lips begin to slowly curl up over his teeth, revealing a perfectly devious smile that does nothing but make you weak and flustered. It’s emphasized but the barbells in his cheeks. Charming in the same way as Josh’s, although, with a certain feral quality that causes your thoughts to wander. With eyes staying focused on you, he directs his words to Josh, “How many times do I have to keep telling you that I don’t need free work? Let me pay you this time.”

It gives you enough of a chance to break your focus from him to finally look away. Josh mutters under his breath as he stretches to dip the needle into the ink, “No chance.”

“I’m Kai, by the way,” he introduces himself with an outstretched hand, ignoring Josh’s remark completely. You stumble forward to take it, feeling his soft, yet chilled fingers wrap around yours. You give your name, making his smile grow even larger.  “How do you know Josh?”

You try to convince yourself that he’s simply making light conversation and being polite. That the burning look in his eyes, the tight hold he has on your hand, even down to the drawl of his voice doesn’t mean that there are deeper intentions behind his interest in you. 

You’re the one to make the first move in pulling a hand away, breaking free from his grasp. You shift, straightening to stand with heat prickling the back of your neck and forehead. “Oh…well, I met Josh when I came here to get my thigh piece done by Jake.”

Kai pries his eyes away from you to shoot Josh a judgemental stare. Josh returns the glare and huffs with a defensive raise of his hands, “What?!”

He chuckles as he slips his hand beneath his head to prop himself up on the table.“So that’s why I haven’t heard from you.” He teases with a lilt in his voice and winks at you before adding, “Josh, you sly dog.”

Josh responds by smacking Kai across the arm and you have to hold back the laugh that tries to escape your mouth. 

“Ouch! What did I say?!” He cries out while rubbing his arm dramatically despite the cheeky smile plastered across his face. 

You jump in intending to change the subject, even if your curiosity serves as the driving force to your question. “So how do you guys know each other?”

“Oh, Josh and I go way back,” Kai answers with an exaggerated sigh. “I ‘ve been getting work done for years now…just can’t stay away from all the great prices and wonderful customer service.”

As they stare at each other for a few beats of time, you watch the blush pinken Josh’s cheeks before he forces himself to refocus on his work. “He just keeps coming back no matter how many times we kick him out.”

Kai quips back, “I’m a stray. I’ll hang around if you keep feeding me.” Josh laughs as he works, wiping away the excess ink from his skin after each skillfully placed line. It’s starting to feel like you're interrupting their moment at this point, so you turn to leave until he stops you. “So what’s your Twitter handle?”

Before you have a chance to respond, Josh cuts in with an aggressive shake of his head, “Oh no, she doesn’t do that, Kai.”

Confusion twists the features of his face, matching the expression you’re wearing. “Do what?” 

While a mischievous glimmer flashes in Kai’s eyes, Josh slowly lifts his head to you, showing a look of worry.

Kai adjusts as if he’s preparing to tell you the biggest piece of gossip, answering in a demeanor that borders on too relaxed, “Create content.”

While the words process in your brain, Josh’s face drops in disappointment. If his hands weren’t gloved, he would’ve smacked his hand to his face for added effect. 

Josh’s reaction causes everything to click into place, making you understand the implication. He means adult content. Your face prickles with heat from your mind running with the thought of it. “Oh...oh.”

Josh braces for your discomfort while Kai continues the small talk as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

The question is innocent enough, but the look behind it says otherwise. You laugh nervously, glancing down at Josh to save you.“Nothing that interesting I’m afraid. I’m a barista down at the coffee shop.”

“Good money there?”

“Kai…” Josh scolds softly. “Don’t listen to him, baby.”

He glances up, giving you an expression as if to communicate with you telepathically. Despite the warning, you decide to answer anyway, “Enough to pay my bills I guess. Why?”

Kai flashes another smile and shrugs. “Just curious.”

Before the conversation has a chance of taking another turn,  Josh butts in, “Oh would you look at that! You’re all done.”

Disappointment flashes across his face before he looks down at the new additions on his stomach. “Already?” 

Taking the cue, you grab your food and get comfortable on the couch while Josh starts the cleanup process and takes pictures of his work. You do your best to mind your business, keeping your focus on the takeout container balanced on your lap, but you see Kai carefully stand to his feet and walk past you in your periphery. He stops in front of the full-length mirror where you have stood many times before. He’s kept his shirt lifted away from the fresh tattoo with his pants riding so low you can faintly see the patch of his pubic hair peeking above the band of pants. You’re gawking now, staring at how he twists his body and flexes his toned stomach in the mirror. You’re quick to note how his build is similar to Josh’s. He’s lean but with a bit more muscle and a few inches added to his height. 

“These look fucking sick, Josh,” Kai calls over his shoulder as he admires the finished pair of scorpions. “Good choice on the placement.”

Josh chuckles, tearing the cling wrap away from the table. “I’m glad you like it.”

You check on Jake to see that he’s still at his desk, munching away on his food with his earpods nestled inside his ears. He glances up and shoots Kai an annoyed look, followed by a heavy roll of his eyes before taking another bite of his food. 

Josh pulls your attention away with a dramatic huff, “Are you done staring at yourself or can I bandage you up already?”

Kai turns, revealing an exceptionally cocky grin, “Why? Do you wanna stare instead?” 

“No, you idiot. I’m fucking starving and my food is getting cold.”

Amused, he takes his time making his way back to Josh, but you forget to look away, letting him catch you red-handed. He smiles, biting into his bottom lip with a wink sent only to you. You’d normally be irritated by a man with an ego too big for this room. But this one feels different. With a level of confidence that borders on arrogance, you believe it suits him — sex appeal radiating from every part of him. And with a single look, you find your heart racing. 

Standing behind Josh while he preps the bandages, Kai ruffles his hair, teasing him, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”    

“Cut it out,” Josh grumbles, but you can see the smile spreading as he half-spins in his chair, reaching back for him. “Get over here.”

Kai steps around to face him, placing a leg between Josh’s open ones. A position where if he were to sit, he would be balanced right on his thigh. He looks down, watching as Josh peels the backing of the Saniderm and carefully places it on his skin. You recognize the gentle touch he’s using — the same one he’s used on you. His focus on Kai’s lower stomach is locked, brows furrowed in concentration while being mindful of his soreness as he presses the clear bandage down, even having to pull Kai’s waistband slightly to get the bottom edge to stick properly. Their proximity makes you blush — a closeness blurring the line of professionalism.

Kai extends a hand to slip his fingers through Josh’s curls again, but it’s far from taunting. He rests it there on the crown of his head, tugging his attention upward by the roots of his hair. You’ve seen that look in his eyes before — you know that look. You just can’t be sure who you’re more envious of, him or Kai. But seeing Josh cast under the same spell excites you, and makes that aching feeling throb between your legs. 

You see the harsh swallow in Josh’s throat before Kai lets his hand fall to his side. Josh's eyes quickly dart away and find yours. Realizing you caught the moment, guilt twists his features until you give him a raised wiggle of your brows. 

He tries his best to bite back the bashful smile, but you can see that he’s visibly flustered. After clearing his throat, he rushes to clean up the leftover trash from the bandages to keep busy. The tension between them is palpable, thicker than the humid mid-summer air outside. Satisfied with himself, Kai drops his shirt and pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

Josh rambles about the aftercare, telling him when he can remove his bandages and how to properly wash as if this was the man’s first tattoo. Kai nods along anyway, walking in your direction toward the center of the room. Josh stands from his chair to follow but quickly pulls at his pants to readjust himself. At first, you think your eyes are deceiving you, but there’s no mistaking the significant bulge he’s desperately trying to hide. 

 “Oh shit!” Josh calls out, tossing the gloves that he’s peeled off his hands into the trash can. “Before I forget again, would you guys like to come out and see us next weekend?”

Kai answers immediately, “Absolutely.”

However, you don’t answer with nearly the same amount of certainty, asking a question of your own, “Both of us?” 

You can feel Kai’s eyes on you in an instant. He’s observant of you —  you’ll give him that. It makes you highly aware of yourself, mindful to not give away too much. It’s not that you don’t want to see Josh, it’s the thought of seeing Kai again. The dynamic between them has been a massive curveball, and you’re scrambling to catch up on processing it all. 

“Yeah of course!” Josh doesn’t seem to catch it, sliding onto the arm of the leather couch. He’s distracted, beaming with excitement while trying to act casual. “We finally booked another gig. You’ll come, right?”

There’s that smile of his that you sell you on anything. He’s put you right on the spot. He could’ve just asked you directly if you wanted to come, or even waited until the day knowing full well that you’d show up that evening regardless. “Yeah, I can make it.”

Kai walks around the other side of the couch and picks up a tote you didn’t realize was sitting there. “Same place?”

Josh’s smile grows even bigger. “Hell yeah.”

“Perfect. Just text me the details. Unfortunately, I gotta run. I’m already late for a meeting.” You sense him step behind you to get to Josh and reach in for a hug. As he wraps his arms around him, he kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks for the awesome tat. Always a pleasure.”

“Of course, anytime,” Josh sighs from the praise, holding onto the embrace until Kai pulls away. 

The weight of his hand on your shoulder surprises you, making you jump slightly. He squeezes you through your shirt as he leans down over the back of the couch. Your consciousness dives, swimming in his cologne that must be placed perfectly on his pulse points. It’s crisp, cool to the nose with its fresh floral notes that finish off with a comforting woodsy scent — like the summer rainstorms you’ve been romanticizing lately. 

He keeps his voice low, so close to your ear that you swear you can feel his lips move against it, “It was definitely a pleasure meeting you.” His chilled touch sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers slide up the soft curve of your neck. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

Your body reacts before your mind can, making your breath feel heavy in your chest. The distant sound of a throat clearing disrupts him, making you both look up to see Jake staring directly at you. 

Kai gives you a final squeeze before pushing away from you. “Jake! How could I forget you?”

The ghost of his fingers on your neck haunts you as he crosses the room. You replay the touch, and the words spoken in your ear while your eyes follow him and the unbothered swagger of his stride. Jake is just finishing the last of his meal, keeping his head down like a dog guarding a prized bone. “Leaving so soon?”

Josh, still sitting beside you on the arm of the couch, gives you a worried look, but you both watch as the interaction unfolds together. Kai continues his stroll behind him, daring to walk right into the cage of the beast. Metaphorically poking as if the blatant sarcasm was fuel to his antics. “Aww. You don’t have to put on such a brave face. It’s okay to miss me.”

Jake grumbles, letting his distaste coat the words between his teeth as he gives him a second warning, “The day I never see you again can’t come soon enough.”

Kai stops behind him and sticks out a dramatic bottom lip while slapping his hands to his heart. With Jake’s back to him, it’s a theatrical display meant for Josh and you to see. “Such sweet words coming from you.” The fake pout forms into a mischievous grin as he wraps his arms around Jake’s rigid shoulders. “Bring it in, big guy.”

You watch him take in a heavy breath through flared nostrils to calm himself. “Kai…I swear to god, if you don’t get your fucking hands off me I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

Kai takes the threat as a challenge, nestling his cheek against Jake’s even tighter in an effort to taunt him. “Now you’re getting me excited.” Without a word, Jake’s lip hooks into a snarl just as he tries to grab him, making him jump back out of reach. “I’m going! I’m going!”

Kai, successful at annoying him, skips back with his hands raised in defense, filling the room with a ringing cackle. Once he reaches the top of the stairs, he spins, giving a final goodbye wave before leaving. “It was lovely seeing you again.”

You both give him a nod and wave in return, listening as the echoes of footsteps fade out down the steps, leaving you to sit in the hushed silence between the three of you. Jake’s foul mood becomes more evident than ever as he angrily shoves his earbuds back in without saying a word to either of you. 

“Alright, I gotta finish cleaning up and then we can head out of here,” Josh groans as he slides off the couch, paying no mind to his twin. His back must be aching from being hunched over for hours but you swear you can see the lively skip in his step as he makes his way back to his station. 

If that fluttery, “butterflies in your stomach” feeling was written in the dictionary, Josh’s picture would be right next to it. He can barely control the smile on his face wanting to break free or the blush pinkening the apples of his cheeks. Wanting to feel the energy up close, you lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, interrupting his cleaning. He welcomes it, holding you close with his hands on your arms while he melts into the embrace. You kiss him, feeling the warmth of his flushed skin against your lips. “I can see why you like him.”

Like a hormonal teenager confessing who they’ve been secretly pining over, a bashful smile spreads on his face. “I do not. He’s just a friend,” he defends weakly before the words break apart into laughter.

“Oh please!” you huff, letting your own smile show. You break away, allowing him to spin on his chair so he can face you. “That’s the biggest crush I’ve ever seen with my own eyeballs, Josh.”

Your eyes finally meet as you sit on the cleared-off tattoo table. There’s a glimmer in them as they search the thoughts behind yours. You can’t deny that this is new for both of you, but he’s still cautious about how to approach it. He scooches toward you, bringing himself between your bent knees. He rubs his thumb across your kneecap and starts to trace patterns across the denim.“Yeah…well, a crush that doesn’t really mean anything.”

You don’t need to ask to know what his apprehension is about. He doesn’t want to spark the same jealousy in you again after what happened that one day with the blonde. As much as you can admittedly say it wasn’t your proudest moment, there’s more security in whatever this is between you now than there was at that time. The attraction between them seems genuine, and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel it with Kai yourself. 

He settles in closer, sliding your ass to the edge so he can fold his arms around your waist. It’s the reassurance you both need. He buries his face into your chest, giving you the attention you’ve been craving all day. If you didn’t have the audience, you’d fall off the table onto his lap and fuck him senseless. 

That was another thing. 

Jake. 

Regardless of the fact he never explicitly had a conversation about being exclusive with only you in a non-hypothetical sense, he is far from approachable about it now. You haven’t been completely oblivious the past few weeks. Women’s names have come across his phone screen and interactions on his social media would hint that he had other situations going on. You didn’t dig, and for good reason. 

With your fingers weaved into Josh’s curls, you tip his head back for a kiss. It feels good, sweet, and vulnerable with the bite of his mint hitting your tongue. As soon as you pull away, he lets out a dreamy sigh, “Besides, I’m perfectly happy with you.’

“Is that so?” You hum. His response only comes out as a groan from you lightly scratching his scalp, causing him to practically purr in your hands. “I dunno…He is pretty cute.”

His eyes flutter open from your words, and he bites into the flesh of his bottom lip. “Sounds like you’re the one with a crush, baby.” 

The Twisted Cherry is everything one could expect from a local dive bar. Tucked away at a corner on the east side of downtown, the popular spot is unrecognizable in the daylight hours. Hidden in plain sight until the sun starts to set and its neon lights buzz to life. Tonight, it’s bustling with activity — humming with drunken chatter and young adults pouring in and weaving their way through the tiny entrance. After paying a small cover fee to the doorman, you meander your way through the small crowd that’s starting to form. A combination of sweat, a hundred different perfumes, and the mustiness of the historic building hangs in the dense air. 

It’s difficult to see clearly in the dark with the hazy red bulbs acting as the only lighting throughout the place, but you’re able to find the bar easily. The music playing over the speakers is a relief knowing that the live show hasn’t started yet. You glance at your phone to check the time and slide it back into your purse while you wait for a bartender to notice you. With a secured hand on the waxed, wooden surface grounding you, you scan over the heads and spot the small stage near the back. You keep an eye out for Josh but quickly recognize Danny checking the equipment on stage.

You feel a set of fingers brush against the back of your arm, and before you can scold the stranger grabbing you from behind, a voice greets you, “Hey there. It’s nice to see you again.”

Kai steps into your view and stands before you. It’s not that you’re surprised that he’s here because he was also invited, it’s that you’re not sure how to feel about him being here. You’re attracted to him, thinking about him more than you ever should. An attraction that had you searching for his content on the internet one lonely night this past week. 

That smile of his — a perfectly white set of teeth with a pair of canines just a bit sharper than the average person. You imagine how it would feel to have them sink into your skin before a sloppy kiss. That fluttery feeling of excitement and throbbing need for more comes with a wash of guilt.  You’re here for Josh, not him. 

“Oh, hi,” you respond in a much softer voice than you intend, and it gets drowned out by the music so much you wonder if he heard you at all. Your movements are stiff and awkward while that nagging bead of sweat drips lower down your back. 

You feel his looming eyes on you as he leans an elbow into the bar and takes a sip of his drink. He’s reading you, studying every little mannerism and nervous glance of your eyes trying to look at anything else but him. 

From what you noticed so far, he looks good. He’s swapped the t-shirt he wore the last time you saw him for a solid black, long-sleeve button-down that’s rolled just below the elbows. It’s oversized, with linen-like fabric draping loosely from his slender frame that’s tucked into his dark-wash baggy jeans. Since you can’t hold eye contact to save your life, your gaze has drifted down to the massive rips in the denim on both of his knees. 

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out cold, dry, and sharp. It’s accusatory, and you’re not exactly why it came out that way. 

He forces out a dry laugh, and stands a step closer into your personal space, pulling your line of sight that has been fused to black leather boots up to the layered necklaces wrapped around his throat. One has a thin silver chain with a small heart-shaped locket. The other is a thicker chain of the same metal with prongs to resemble barbs on a wire fence. He pulls in a breath and releases a deep sigh, “Well, I’m here to see Josh. But what about you? Why are you here?”

He knows why. He’s playing — dangling that little toy mouse in front of you until you finally decide to snatch it. He’s done a wonderful job at leaving that trail of breadcrumbs to see if you’re curious enough about his intentions to follow them. Deep down you know if you were to take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, he’d be more than happy to fuck your brains out in one of the filthy stalls. 

If not— if he was truly here for Josh only — he’s the biggest tease you’ve ever met. You’re smart enough to know that if he wanted Josh for himself, he wouldn’t have bothered approaching you at all.

You still shift on your feet to balance the uneasiness as the conflicting feelings stir inside you. It’s like he’s ripped the wires out of your brain and crossed them. “Yeah, me too.”

He reaches out and pops the bubble you’ve tried to form around yourself by touching your arm once more — another gentle graze of his cool fingers. “You okay? You’re kind of making me anxious.”

The touch is innocent enough, meant purely as a physical check-in, but it doesn’t fail to send a shock of electricity through you. You try to hold back your body’s physical reaction, but there’s no doubt he caught it. It’s enough to make you look up and meet his gaze. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

Even in the crowded, dark bar, his smile reaches his light eyes, stealing every bit of your attention. “Don’t be. Want a drink?”

“Sure, but I can get—” He interrupts you with a raise of his hand to the bartender, gesturing that he’d like two more of the same drink that’s currently in his hand. 

“You didn’t have to…” you trail off. 

He lifts his dark brow at you. “Would you like someone else to buy you drinks tonight? Josh seems a little busy.”

You stare at him, shooting him a stubborn glare. “…No.”

He huffs a laugh, stirring the ice melting away in the bottom of his glass. “Okay, then don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

A smirk plays on his lips before he says, “A people pleaser.”

“I am not,” you scoff, offended by his attempt to psychoanalyze you. You could lay into him, give him an ear-full, and storm your way out of here — maybe even throw what’s left of his drink in his face for dramatic effect. But you both know that’s not what you want. 

He props an elbow back on the bar again and tongues the silver rings pierced through each side of his bottom lip — a similar oral fixation to Josh’s tongue piercing. “You’re too worried about what I think.”

“What if I didn’t want you to assume anything?” You’re quick to fire back, but your confidence is shaky at best, and he can see right through your stubbornness. 

Those intense green eyes scan down the length of you while the chewed cocktail straw dances across his bottom lip. If you really were a dove — a helpless bird with fluttering wings upon the ground — he was the black cat lurking in the brush ready to pounce. 

The bartender comes up from behind him and slides two cocktails across the bar between you. He takes one and offers it to you. “So you’re accusing me of being presumptuous?”

You take the drink from his hand, watching as he grabs the lone cherry half-buried in the ice from his glass and pops it into his mouth before taking the new drink waiting for him. 

You let his question hang in the air by taking a sip of your drink. Based on the distinct, nutty almond flavor and tartness of lemon, you guess it’s the bar’s spin on an amaretto sour. A thought crosses your mind, making you laugh, “Why do I feel like you’re the type that can tie a knot in a cherry stem?”

He chuckles, amused by your sudden change of subject, “Isn’t that a bit cliche?”

“If you can’t do it, just say that,” you challenge, sucking down another large sip of your drink. 

He plays along, taking the bright maraschino cherry sitting pretty next to the orange slice garnish on the rim. He plucks the syrup-marinated fruit, savoring the saccharine juice before laying the bare stem across his outstretched tongue. For a moment, you forget the fact you’re not alone, while also realizing that he’s showing off now. Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, he rolls it around in his closed mouth for about thirty seconds until the end of the stem pops out from his lips. They spread into that same cocky grin you’ve seen from him before. With it wedged between his teeth, he reaches up and tightens the loose knot with a pull of his inked fingers. 

Checkmate. 

You’re stunned into silence — no other moves left in your arsenal. He seals your fate, kicking your queen off the board with the gift of the perfect knot as he leans in close. Drunk off the victory, he croons softly against your ear, “Any more tests for me?”

If you had more alcohol in your system, you might’ve thrown yourself at him, but he steps away from you, disappearing into the crowd centered around the tiny stage. The preset music that’s been fades out, signaling the round of cheers and clapping from everyone around you. You look around to find the reason for the commotion and see Josh, Jake, and Sam step out onto the platform. 

You shuffle through to get closer, eventually spotting Kai standing by himself. He gives you a smile when you approach, but Josh’s muffled voice coming through the microphone cuts in before either of you has the chance to say anything.

“Hello, hello,” he mumbles, tapping the top of the microphone as he paces the front of the stage. You’re not sure what you expected from him, but the last thing on your mind was the pair of black leather pants he’s wearing, riding so low on his hips that you can see the tip of the leaf of his tattooed cherries poking above the waistband. They’re incredibly tight to his body in all the right places — leaving nothing to the collective imagination. The black, short-sleeved blouse is not any more conservative, left completely unbuttoned to reveal the collection of tattoos covering his torso. You can’t lie that seeing him up there, being the focus of everyone’s attention feels surreal.  

He downs the rest of his drink to shake off the remaining nerves and places it somewhere out of sight. “Hope everyone is having a lovely night.”

It earns a few shouts and whistles, but your gaze follows Jake, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt. He’s busy fiddling with the guitar hanging from his shoulders. You’ve noticed the cherry-finish SG propped up in the corner of his room but had yet to see him with it until now. He plays a few notes, doing any last-minute tuning while the rest of the guys get into position.  

While Danny gets ready behind the drum kit, Josh continues, whipping the microphone cord in his hand as goes, “Make sure to get your necessary refreshments. You all know the drill by now. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em…and uh…get ready for some rock n’ roll.”

Josh’s face lights up the second he spots you standing next to Kai, smiling so wide it stretches from ear to ear. You wave at him, getting a wink in return. Jake on the other hand, only gives you a single nod before dropping his line of sight back to the guitar in his hands. Sam, with a bass hanging from the thick strap around his back, has been busy chatting with a few girls in the front row. Danny sets the count, and within seconds, the cramped space erupts on his mark. 

Josh’s vocals rip through the dense air of the dive bar. You know your mouth has dropped open and your eyes have widened in shock. It takes far longer than you’d like to admit, but you’re able to recognize the cover as “White Room” by Cream. 

In the white room with black curtains near the station

Black roof country, no gold pavements, tired sterlings

His voice is gritty, raw and powerful. There’s a certain whine to it that lives in your chest with every breath you take — so loud it rings in your ears and makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. He possesses the modest stage with a charisma that’s completely new to you. He’s far more confident than you’ll ever be, existing through the music and letting it course through his body with the sways of his head to the rhythmic bounce of his foot. Within minutes, his body starts to glisten with a sheen of sweat, causing your eye to catch the exposed golden bar pierced through his navel. 

For a moment, you forget that you’re sleeping with him, that every part of his gyrating body has been explored by you — by your tongue. He seems like an entirely new man, dripping with unadulterated eroticism and ego. 

Never wanting his brother to take all the attention, Jake steps in to deliver his solo. His nimble fingers move across the frets with lightning speed, showcasing another level of talent and dexterity that you didn’t know he had. Josh is more than happy to let him take the limelight, moving aside to gladly accept a shot of clear liquor being offered to him by someone in the crowd. 

When you pictured what this might be in your head, you imagined something akin to a local karaoke night. You hadn’t expected them to actually be this good.

 As the first song fades out, they roll into the next one without stopping. Some songs you can pick out, some you don’t. You’re simply captivated by the performance, absorbing all of their forty-five-minute set without moving from your spot once. 

One thing you couldn’t help but notice was Jake actively trying to ignore you. Other than a few fleeting glances in your direction, his attention stayed on his guitar or the women shouting at him in the first row. Instead of giving you those smiles, he gave them away, even stripping from his drenched t-shirt to show off the tattoos on his chest and back. If you were here alone, his behavior might’ve bothered you more than it does. Kai’s presence smothers it, even if it might be the reason it sparked it in the first place. 

After the guys finish up their last song, Kai nudges you with an elbow and leads the way, clearing a path through the crowd back to the bar with you in tow. The short walk feels like a blur like you’re the one running on adrenaline. Your body buzzes with so much excitement that you hardly notice the fact he’s already ordered another round. 

“Wow,” you breathe.

He reaches out and holds your wrist, grounding you to him as he leans back against the bar. “First time seeing them play?”

“Yeah.” You nod, setting your empty glass on the polished bar top. 

He’s looking past you, right at Josh still talking to a few people near the stage. “It’s definitely an experience.”

You note the way he looks at him, studying all the same things you did minutes ago. Since it's been eating away at you for almost two weeks, you feel compelled to ask yourself, “So are you and Josh friends with benefits?”

He shakes his head and smirks in response to the question, making you feel as though it was a stupid one to ask. “Who told you that?”

“Jake,” you confess. 

“Hmm…and do you always take Jake’s word on everything?” His striking eyes pierce right through you. Now inches away, you’re able to see all the details up close. The tattoo on his right cheek that says “lover”, the faint freckles that paint his nose, and the little scar that goes through his left brow. 

“Do I have a reason not to?”

His stare softens and shifts to Josh before flicking his eyes back over to you. “I guess that’s for you to find out. But no, Josh and I aren’t friends with benefits.”

You wonder how Jake would get the idea because you don’t think of him as the type to lie about something like that. “You haven’t done anything at all?”

His fingers skate across your forearms resting on the edge of the bar. “You’re a curious one,” he laughs, meeting your gaze, searching both of your eyes until he drops his own to your lips, letting them linger there. You’re hypnotized by his eyes, caught up in the lustful thoughts that have invaded your mind. “Aside from a few drunken makeouts that I’m sure he doesn’t even remember now, no.”

You try to bring his words to life in your head, imagining what that might have looked like — what it would be like to kiss him yourself. “Oh…okay.”

“Look.” He squeezes your hand before letting go to grab the drinks sitting on the bar. “I hope you know that you have him so tightly wrapped around your finger, and from what I see, he’d do anything to make you happy.” He lifts a shot you didn’t order, gesturing for you to take it. “You’re the one calling the shots here, so start acting like it.”

Before you can even think about what he said, he clinks his shot glass against yours, pressuring you to throw back the clear liquor into your mouth. You can tell its vodka right away by how it burns all the way down your throat. 

You cough through that pain, “What, are you trying to get drunk?” 

He laughs at your expense, chasing his shot with another sip of his new drink. Your judgment is becoming clouded, all inhibitions dissolving away by the second in his presence. You look over to Josh to see him slowly making his way over to you with each conversation he’s getting pulled into.  

“What are you so worried about, kitten?” The added feline quality of his voice rasps against your ear, making you tremble in his loose hold. “How badly you want to fuck me or is it how much he wants to?”

You’re fully pressed against him now, smelling the scent of his aftershave and feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt.  He’s good at leaving you speechless, as a suitable answer for him evades you. The temptation to touch him, to kiss him becomes unbearable — your self-control reduced to a mere thread. Something makes his body tense up for the first time, and he pulls away enough to look down at you. “Is there a reason why Jake is looking at me like he wants to murder me?”

You turn, breaking away from him to look behind you. You search the groups, spotting Jake standing next to Danny and Sam as he nurses a glass of amber liquid, presumably whiskey. The set brows and jaw clench are visible even at this distance. He’s avoiding eye-contact with you, giving away that he’s angry with you. “Oh…uhm,” you stammer over yourself, struggling to find a place to start. “Well…”

Kai’s brows shoot up but his shoulders fall in disbelief now that the pieces start to fit together. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he breathes, taking another sip of his drink. Something shifts as the gears turn in his head, and a devilish grin reveals itself over the lip of his glass. What would scare away more people only seems to make him double down, as if he thrives off the pure chaos. “Let’s get messy then.”

“Fucking finally.” You hear Josh heavy groan beside you. “I never thought I would escape.” He takes a second to collect himself now that he’s made it to the bar. “Fuck, I’m so glad you both could come.” 

“You didn’t tell me you could sing like that,” you gush, giving him a playful shove to his shoulder, which only makes him propel himself closer to you.

“Maybe I wanted it to be a surprise.” He kisses you — heavy, hot and brimming with lust. He’s impatient, beyond pent up, licking into your mouth while he ruts his hardening length against your hip. “Being on that stage gets me so fucking horny, baby. I don’t think I can wait to fuck you later.” His sinful confessions being mumbled into your skin is enough to drive you feral. 

If the state of your underwear was any indication of how you’re feeling — you need him more than anything you’ve needed before. 

He shows enough restraint to acknowledge Kai standing beside you. “Looks like you’re making a new friend though.” 

You glance up at him to see that he’s more than content sipping away at his cocktail while the two of you go at it, giving you a side-eye peek. A heat radiates in your chest and blooms up to your face thinking about the things he had said to you minutes ago, making you admit, “We’ve gotten to know each other a little.” 

Josh’s curious eyes bounce between you before landing on Kai. “You’re not making me a stranger, are you?”

Kai sets his glass down and signals for another round. Those siren eyes of his find Josh’s while he lures him in with a silken voice, “I don’t think it would take much to get reacquainted.”

The sexual tension between them reaches its threshold, breaking apart from a single look. Acting on a surge of bravery, Josh takes the leap of faith you’ve yet to make. He leans forward and crashes his lips into Kai’s before he’s given the chance to react. It takes him a second to catch up with Josh’s unrestricted fervor, but quickly regains his footing. After bringing a hand to cradle the side of his face, Kai successfully suppresses that hunger enough to slow him down to be present. You watch as their lips part, seeing the glint of Josh’s piercing as his tongue slips into Kai’s mouth. 

His ringed fingers dive into Josh’s sweaty hair, tugging him by the roots to make him whimper. To witness him being turned into a moaning mess makes you ache terribly. He’s teasing Josh with a taste to remember, and is now pulling away to keep him chasing for it. 

Josh licks at his swelling bottom lip to savor what was left there. He suddenly plummets back to Earth, remembering where he is and that you’re still standing here beside him. “Oh shit… I’m sorry—“ 

“Don’t be,” you giggle, interrupting his frantic apology. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

It was supposed to be a light-hearted joke to add levity to the moment. But the next thing you feel is Kai’s hand wrapping around your neck. “Let’s make it even, then.” 

You have thought about this very moment over and over again after that night at the shop. The way his lips would feel, how they would taste, how he would touch you. It’s a forbidden desire, more so than Jake has ever felt. You’re not supposed to have another man make you feel like this. 

His lips connect with a controlled grace, the pad of his thumb grazing along your jawline to ease you in. You relinquish control, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt while you memorize the cold sensation of the silver rings slipping across your lip as the kiss deepens. He baits you with a teasing flick of his tongue, making you chase it back into the sweetness of his mouth. 

Before you know it, it’s all over. 

“Oh my fucking god, that was so hot,” Josh groans. His restlessness breaks the moment for you to see him tossing back one of the shots that was ordered. 

You’ve been blushing so hard that your face has started  to break out in a sweat, but Kai is still holding you by the chin, peering down at you through obsidian lashes. He bites down on his bottom lip, creating little impressions in the wet flesh. “What do you think? Should we get outta here, kitten?”

All three of you stumble out of the bar onto the sidewalk after paying the tap, realizing you’ve had a bit more to drink than you expected to. Your chest feels tight, but in that way when you know something is about to happen. Josh, on the other hand, is vibrating with nervous energy so much his hands have started to shake as he pulls out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. 

“Uber will be here in 5 minutes,” Kai announces, noticing Josh drunkenly struggle to light the end of his cigarette. You try to find another lighter from the depths of your purse, but Kai digs his own from his pocket to help him. It’s sensual — the way he watches him pull in a slow drag so he can pluck the burning cigarette from between his fingers. 

Before Josh can exhale, Kai captures his lips in a smokey kiss. He nips at his bottom lip, thriving on the way he’s left Josh breathless and confused as he takes in a drag of his own. He then looks at you with a raised brow, silently asking you if you want one as well. You nod, eagerly closing the distance, stepping into his arms so he can hold your chin steady. You open your lips for him, allowing him to blow a gentle stream of smoke past them before sealing it with a kiss. 

You hear Josh giggle in the background, humming with energy he can no longer contain, “You two are trying to fucking kill me.”

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @lightmylove-gvf @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1 @jake-kiszkas-smirk @sunandthemoontwinflames @gvfcinema @klarxtr @sacredthethreadgvf @gracev0609

[vasfasan]

It's okay guys, he's just a typical trans masc who hasn't settled on what name he wants to publicly come out with

[duranduratulsa]

On the turntable today...

Union Of The Snake by Duran Duran (1983) (12" Single)

One Way Home by The Hooters (1986)

WAPE Solid Gold Volume One by Various Artists (1971)

Skin Deep by The Stranglers (Official) (1984) (12" Single)

I Didn't Mean To Turn You On by Robert Palmer (1986) (12" Single)

The Classic Roy Orbison (1966)

#duranduran #unionofthesnake #TheHooters #onewayhome #wape690 #wapesolidgoldvolumeone #thestranglers #skindeep #robertpalmer #riprobertpalmer #ididntmeantoturnyouon #royorbison #riproyorbison #theclassicroyorbison #60s #70s #80s #records #album #LP #12inch #12inchvinyl #vinylrecords #vinyl