#the first and final fuck him up friday of 2022

[tdbowie]

fuck him up friday!!! reblog to fuck him up

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Pressing

Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU

A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️

Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!

Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.

It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.

It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.

But you endure it all - for days like this. 

It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.

Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.

On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.

But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.

His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.

The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway. 

The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.

‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.

‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.

With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.

Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks. 

Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him. 

You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him. 

‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’

‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’

His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you. 

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’ 

As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.

You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’

There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines - 

And then he thrusts home inside you.

After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.

You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move. 

There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.

Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure. 

When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge. 

‘Where, darlin’?’

‘Inside me.’

The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.

Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.

You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table. 

‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.

‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.

‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.

Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time. 

He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’

He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.

‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’

‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.

You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’

‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’

Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’

Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’

The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.

With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’

Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!

[here2bbtstrash]

it's sweet (explicit)

genre: a fluffy lil sickfic

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: you forgot to call out sick from your dick appointment, but he stays anyway.

word count: 4.3k

contains: no smut just fluff????? new year new me 😎 but as this is fuckbuddies to maybe-lovers and there are certainly a few references in here to sex, because of who i am as a person, it's enough that i'm tagging it explicit anyway lmao. but this is all fluff! reader has the flu, tae is a sweet sweet boi and takes care of her, it's all a bit sappy~ 🤧

A/N: happy new year!!! and a very happy belated birthday to my capricorn prince 💜 this soft little idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't let go, and i had a lot more fun writing it than expected. plus i feel like i only wrote tae as a menace in 2022 (sorry to tae 👹) so i had to right my wrongs with this one lmao. it was a nice interlude before i jump into LDOMLT ch11 (the final chapter 😭) - i hope you all enjoy and that your 2023s are off to a pleasant start!!!

read on AO3!

~*~

You genuinely enjoy being single.

With your last relationship officially in the trash, you’ve found yourself settled into a comfortable peace. There’s no man in your life to mess up your plans, to force you to have to compromise or share anything, to suck up your energy and domestic labor like some kind of emotional vampire. You can do what you want, whenever you want, and you have a reliable rotation of both sex toys and fuckbuddies to keep you physically satisfied when the need arises.

Being single, you have come to learn, is fucking great.

Except when you get sick.

A knock at your apartment door drags you out of your DayQuil-induced slumber. You move to sit up with a sniffle before letting yourself drop back into your veritable nest of blankets on the couch, struck with the immediate recollection: it’s just the food you ordered. You’d specifically put in a request that they leave it at the door, but maybe the delivery person is just being nice and letting you know it’s there.

Except then they knock again.

And ring the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you groan to yourself, aggressively enough that you’re nearly sent into a fresh coughing fit, but you manage to choke down the spasm in your lungs as you drag yourself to standing. You cross the short distance from your couch to the front door, sure you look like death warmed over, and swing the door open.

At first, you’re certain it’s the DayQuil fucking with you.

“Taehyung?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as he blinks sweetly at you, expressive almond eyes peeking out beneath untidy dark hair— extra fluffy today, like he’s just washed it and waltzed out of the house without any styling. His clothes tell the same story, a plain gray hoodie and joggers, creased a little like he’d just pulled them off his bedroom floor, though everything looks fresh off the runway on him.

As your eyes trail down his frame, you take in the container of ramen you ordered, held easily in one of his large hands, his long fingers hooking over the side.

His presence is typically a welcome one, particularly on Friday nights like tonight, but those are circumstances where you tend to be a little more… put together. So why is he here tonight?

“When did you start working for D—”

The food delivery service name dies on your tongue as your thoughts finally catch up with your mouth. He’s here tonight because it’s Friday, and this is what you do on Fridays. He’s here because you didn’t cancel. You’d had the thought in a drowsy half-awake state between naps, then had promptly rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow, telling yourself you’d remember to text Taehyung when you woke up.

Which of course, you did not. And so here he is, having clearly intercepted your delivery. And, it now occurs to you, having to witness how absolutely godawful you must look in your stained sweatpants, your hair surely a mess from a day spent napping on the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you mutter, quickly crossing your arms over your baggy t-shirt, suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. Why that matters when you’re standing in front of a man who regularly leaves hickeys all over your tits, you’re not sure, but in this moment it somehow feels like it does.

“Tae,” you take a step back, trying to keep him out of your germ radius. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to text you. I’m super sick, I think it’s the flu. You should go.”

He frowns a little, his eyes jumping from you down to the takeout container in his hands. “This is like, barely warm.”

That makes you smile a little despite yourself. A very Taehyung greeting.

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes. “I pay twice as much so it can take an hour and be cold by the time it gets here. Makes sense, right?”

His dazzling smile at your sarcastic remark only heightens your own self-consciousness, and you quickly extend a hand for the container.

“Sorry to make you come all this way. Hopefully next week I’ll be back to normal.”

Taehyung nods, yet makes no move to hand over the soup he’s currently holding hostage. “You should rest. Let me heat it up for you.”

You can’t help but wonder what he expects to happen when he crosses the threshold, and that makes you heave a sigh, then quickly bury the cough that chases after it into the crook of your elbow.

Thankfully your voice doesn’t give out when you manage to answer him. “I’m serious, Tae. I’m not—” you pause, considering how to phrase it: desperate to be railed? “—you know, the way I usually am on Fridays. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Except maybe you’ll get sick.”

He shrugs, like there are worse things. “I get it. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

At least he’s been sufficiently warned, you think to yourself, and then you relent, leaving the front door of your apartment swung wide as you step back across the living room to promptly collapse onto the couch again. You bury your face in the blankets with a muffled groan as you hear Taehyung shut the door behind him, then make his way into the kitchen.

As is typical with any man that enters your kitchen, you expect to have to walk Taehyung step-by-step through how to do everything. But, to your surprise, he asks no questions: he seems to find a good-sized pot and figure out how to work the stove all on his own, and you can hear him humming softly to himself as he goes.

Truly a credit to the male species, you think to yourself with a bitter laugh.

You collapse back against the cushions, a little too aware of the fuckbuddy in your kitchen to be able to drift off to sleep entirely. Nevertheless, you still find yourself slipping into a haze, your eyes dropping shut just to snap open again at the tap of a bowl being set down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you sit up and stare down at your ramen, only to find two halves of a soft-boiled egg staring back up at you. You’d ordered from your favorite place in the city, which is easily the best ramen you’ve had in your life, but you know those fuckers charge extra for an egg. Which is why your cheap ass never orders one.

But here one is. So that means…

Taehyung drops down onto the couch next to you before you can even finish compiling the thought in your brain, but he must be able to read the look on your face. “Oh, do you not like eggs?”

“I— no,” you answer quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, I like them, I just… Thank you.”

You glance up in time to see him shrug, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s suddenly made shy by his own kindness. “Gotta get your protein in,” he offers casually, and you laugh over the steam rising up from your bowl.

He keeps a tentative cushion’s distance away from you, but you can feel his eyes watching as you take your first sip of the rich, warm broth. While you slurp it down, you tell yourself not to get greedy with Taehyung’s time: you expect this will be it, that with his act of kindness done for the day, he’ll get to his feet and be on his way. As soon as your front door slams shut behind him, he’ll probably be pulling up his text messages with one of the many other options that must be available to him.

You try to ignore the way that thought makes your stomach twist, to just eat your damn soup and not think about it. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But to your surprise, Taehyung leans forward and snatches the TV remote off your coffee table with a triumphant sigh before slumping back against the couch, like he’s settling in. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You shake your head as you take another sip before answering. “You really don’t have to stay, Tae. I can appreciate that I’m not a lot of fun to be around tonight. And obviously you didn’t come here to watch me eat ramen.”

Already starting to scroll through your streaming services, Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair with a knowing, slightly horny smile. “Depends on what you mean by eat ramen.”

You nearly choke on a noodle, but he’s otherwise distracted, mouth dropping open a little as he clicks into one of the options.

“Oh, I know what we can watch.”

When he pulls up A Charlie Brown Christmas and promptly presses play, you can’t help smirking. “Christmas? You’re, what, five days late?”

Taehyung’s mouth opens again, like he’s going to say something, and then he just smiles that same self-conscious smile. “Ah, I just like the music.”

His long fingers splay out in front of him, miming along to the opening melody while he adopts the faux-cool expression of a jazz pianist. You hide a giggle in another sip of broth, and he quickly shrugs the impression off, crossing his arms over his chest as if to keep his limbs under control.

“And it’s cute,” he adds, voice halfway between shy and sentimental. “The little tree.”

It occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Taehyung so… your brain can’t find the right word. He’s just different tonight.

You nod as you slurp up a strand of noodles, and you can’t deny that he’s right as the movie plays on. It’s been years since you’ve seen it, not since you were a kid, but it’s just as enjoyable now, somehow timeless. You find yourself smiling softly as you finish your meal and settle back against the couch, tugging the blanket up to your chin.

All at once, Taehyung jumps up, and you watch dumbfounded as he silently scoops up your dishes and disappears off to the kitchen. When you hear the tap switch on, your jaw drops in sheer disbelief, and you sit up again, peeking over the back of the couch to get a glimpse of him: he’s pulled on the dishwashing gloves you keep tucked next to the sink and is making short work of not just the bowl and the pot, but the takeout container too, and your various other sick-person dishes you’d regrettably let pile up. Humming to himself along with Vince Guaraldi, like it’s something he does every day.

Your head spins as you drop back down against the cushion. What is happening? Did you take too much cold medicine?

That thought only reverberates louder in your brain when he returns, still humming the last few notes of the song. This time he chooses to settle in right beside you on the couch, as if entirely unconcerned about the contagious virus running rampant in your body— he just pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingertips casually starting to play with the ends of your hair. Like it’s that easy.

You glance up at him, shaking your head a little, and Taehyung looks down to meet your gaze. “What?”

“This is just…” An incredulous laugh cuts off the end of your sentence. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at the same person. This can’t be the man who wraps his hand around your throat as he spits into your mouth, who will keep you in his bed for hours until you’re crying from overstimulation, who fucks you so good you can hardly walk the next day.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you admit, pairing the words with a finger driven gently into Taehyung’s ribs. He squirms a little. “You’re… sweet.”

Taehyung’s lips part, and then he pauses, clearly considering how exactly to answer you. His mouth turns up soft at the corners, hesitant, as if he’s embarrassed to say what comes next. And then he says it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted sweet.”

The words settle over you, offered quietly in the low, rich tones of his voice, and as you keep gazing up at him, it strikes you: he’s not wrong. If he’d pulled this cozy domestic housewife act on you any earlier, on a normal Friday, you would’ve sent him packing without hesitation.

That thought makes you a little sad.

You tuck back in against Taehyung’s side, trying to refocus on the TV screen as you snuggle in under the blanket. Pressed close like this, you can feel the sturdy thud of his heartbeat in his chest, at a rhythm not dissimilar to yours.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” you breathe, and you swear you can hear him smile.

His touch lingers as the last few minutes of the movie play on: slipping from the ends of your hair to trace over the fabric of your shirt, then sliding further up to dip beneath the collar of it. The talented fingers you’ve become well-acquainted with work their magic in a new way, pressing firm circles into the muscles of your shoulders, muscles you didn’t realize were pinched so tight until he starts to work them open.

“Fuck,” you murmur, shifting a little to allow him better access as he continues. “That feels so good.” You can’t quite help the laugh that flutters out after your words; it’s certainly not the first time he’s made you say them.

There’s a small huff of breath from Taehyung beside you, and then his hand moves up to cup the back of your neck and give a gentle squeeze. It’s a comforting motion, and just arousing enough to make you sigh a note, your eyes briefly dropping shut. When they flutter open again, you realize the movie has ended, that he’s looking down at you, a knowing smirk toying at his lips.

“Don’t start,” you warn, unable to keep your voice entirely serious. “I meant what I said, I’m tapped out for the night.”

Taehyung raises his palms in the air, as if to claim his innocence, and you find yourself instantly missing the heat of his hand on your skin. “All I was thinking is that I kinda want dessert. Too tapped out for that?”

“I’ll never say no to dessert,” you admit with a soft smile. “I think I have ice cream in the freezer.”

Something glints in Taehyung’s eyes at your words. All at once he untangles himself from you and, rather than standing up and walking the long way around like a normal human, chooses instead to vault himself over the back of the couch, as if to get your freezer as fast as possible. You tip back against the cushions, momentarily overcome with laughter, and thankfully, it doesn’t trigger a cough attack.

After a second, you cocoon the blanket around yourself, then get up to follow after him, dropping unceremoniously down onto one of the barstools tucked on the far side of your kitchen island.

Taehyung glances up, clearly surprised, then continues trying drawers until he finds the silverware and retrieves two spoons.

“Just want to keep you company,” you say by way of explanation as he hands you one, and you reach down to pry off the lid of the pint of chocolate ice cream he’s set down on the counter. It’s only as you glance up again that you realize he’s grabbed something else, too, and is continuing to rummage through your cupboards. “Wait, what are you doing?”

There’s an innocent look on Taehyung’s face as he rights himself, the handle of a pan clutched in one hand. “I found something when I was looking for the ice cream. It’s my favorite. And I thought it might make you feel better, too.”

“Uh huh,” you intone, though your mouth is already starting to tick up, endeared. “A completely selfless act, I’m sure.”

“Of course it is,” he answers with an over-exaggerated wink, flipping the pan cooly in his grip. You squint at the bag as he thuds it down on the counter beside him, then sets the pan on the stove and flips on the burner beneath it.

Hotteok. You’d completely forgotten you’d even picked the bag of frozen sweet pancakes up a few weeks ago, that you had purposefully tucked them into the back of your fridge for a particularly good— or bad— day.

“Chef Kim,” you ask, feigning the tone of a journalist conducting an important interview as you fish your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants. “Can I interest you in some background music, or do you prefer to cook in absolute silence?”

Taehyung glances back over his shoulder at you, his grin nearly too big for his face. “How about Sinatra?”

You raise one eyebrow at the admittedly unexpected suggestion. “Frank or Nancy?”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering. “Either.”

It’s only a few taps, and then Come Fly With Me is floating out of your Bluetooth speaker, and Taehyung is singing along to himself as he drops a frozen disc onto the heated pan, occasionally turning back to deliver lines to you with an extended hand.

You roll your eyes as you drag your spoon through the top layer of softening ice cream, sucking it into your mouth in an attempt to hide the grin that’s spread over your face.

By the third song you find yourself humming along too, trying not to put too much strain on your still-weak throat. The kitchen has started to smell of sweet, toasted dough as Taehyung works diligently at the stove, and he finally flips the burner off before turning back to you, a plate in each hand and a thick pancake stacked atop each plate.

“Sous chef, will you please apply the ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and blinking as he sets the dishes down.

Quickly playing along, you nod as you begin to scoop a healthy amount onto each plate. “Yes, chef!”

“And sous chef, do you, uh… have any chocolate sauce?”

You bite back a laugh as his roleplay falls apart as quickly as it began. “It’s in the fridge.”

Taehyung promptly turns and pulls the door open, eyes searching the shelves before he finally spots the dark brown bottle and lets out a triumphant hum. He nudges the fridge shut again with his hip before striding back toward you.

“Plating is key,” he muses. You answer with an appreciative nod and a giggle when he uncaps the sauce, then leans down close to the plates, feigning intense focus as he drizzles each dollop of ice cream with stripes of chocolate.

Once his artful design is complete, he steps back, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth as he spins one plate to admire his handiwork.

“What do you think, chef?” you tease, and he nods once, decisive.

“It’s perfect.” He glances up, shooting you a grin that knocks the breath from your lungs, and you try to collect yourself as he nudges a plate toward you, encouraging you to take a bite.

You carve your spoon through the pastry, right down the middle where it’s stuffed full of sweet brown sugar syrup. The flaky layers pull apart at the impact, warm enough that you can see steam rising off of the golden dough. You pair a small piece of pancake with a wedge of ice cream on your spoon, then bring both into your mouth at once, and the contrasting mixtures linger on your tongue: hot and cold, sticky sugar chased by rich chocolate. It’s so good that you can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise as you press your hand to your mouth and chew.

“Do you want to know something?” Taehyung’s voice pulls your attention back, and you look up at him.

“What?”

“Today’s my birthday.”

There’s a split second where you wonder if this is another imagined scenario, and then your eyes widen as you take in the look on his face and realize he’s entirely serious.

“Wait, Taehyung, really?”

He nods once, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

“I-I had no idea,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like an asshole. His birthday, and he’s here waiting on you hand and foot, while you haven’t so much as said a word of felicitations. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s waving away your apology with his spoon, then proceeding to answer around his bite of food. “It’s not like I expected you to know. I don’t really make a big deal of it.” He shrugs. “I tend to… I don't know. I get sort of melancholy this time of year. The holidays, my birthday. It’s a lot all at once. A lot of pressure. To be happy. To have everything figured out.”

Nodding slowly, you let his words fully wash over you before you respond. “I get that,” you finally murmur, working off another piece of hotteok. “Nobody ever talks about it, but I feel like birthdays are kinda weird as an adult. You have enough of them and it just starts to feel like a day, you know? Not special.”

“I usually find myself just hiding out, waiting for it to be over,” Taehyung admits.

You take a second to think back. “Yeah. I didn’t even do anything on my birthday this year.” A self-pitying laugh rises up before you can stop it. “Honestly, this whole year was such a flop. I’m glad it’s nearly done.”

Taehyung makes a face like he can’t disagree. “Hey, sometimes that’s life.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly, then reaches a palm across the table. “Can I play a song?”

“Go ahead,” you offer, pushing your phone into his hand. You scrape your spoon along your dwindling dessert, and haven’t even managed to bring the assembled bite to your mouth before the music changes— from one Frank Sinatra song to another, this one with a driving blues rhythm.

Taehyung is already on his feet, hips starting to sway. “Ah, come on. You have to dance with me.”

He’s closed the distance between you before you can even protest, his hands smoothing across the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders.

“Let me take your coat, ma’am.”

You shift off the stool and onto your feet with a smile as he unwraps the blanket from around you and tosses it toward the back of the couch, missing by at least a foot.

“Why thank you,” you tease, feigning some kind of Transatlantic lilt to your voice that makes him really laugh. “Such a gentleman.”

Taehyung turns to face you again, and then you feel his large hand pressing to the small of your back, warm even through the fabric of your shirt, and your heart stutters a little. You take his other hand in yours and let him lead, let him pull you all the way in until you can turn your head and press your cheek to the firm plane of his chest.

Frank Sinatra croons on about how you can’t let life get you down, and suddenly there’s a weight settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I feel bad, Taehyung,” you admit, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking right back down at you. “That you’re here with me tonight.”

“Why?” he asks, like he really doesn’t know.

“Because,” you shake your head. “I don’t know. There’s a million better places you could be. I can’t even give you birthday sex.”

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to,” he answers simply, then leans back, guiding you under his arm for a spin.

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, catches on the first syllable of your reply as you twirl. “A-are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, thoughtful, when you come back to center again. “This is a good reminder that… I like taking care of people. It’s been a while since anyone’s let me.” The hand holding yours gives a gentle squeeze, and you can’t help but squeeze back.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” you answer softly. “You did a good job. Pretty sure I’m on the mend already.” You blink up at him through your lashes, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes your heart squeeze, too.

It’s nearly overwhelming, taking him in like this, close enough that you can see every stray beauty mark kissed over his handsome features. Fluffy-haired, big-dicked Kim Taehyung— who would’ve thought?

Taehyung’s adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows, and you feel a sudden rush of heat all over, one you don’t quite think you can blame on a fever. It hardly even occurs to you that the two of you have come to a complete standstill now, barefoot in the middle of your kitchen, Taehyung’s palm pressed to your back, the fingers of your joined hands now shifting to lace together.

“Taehyung,” you’re breathing his name before you even realize it. “Would you… want to stay here tonight? Like, sleep together, literally?”

The smile that flashes over his face is nothing short of brilliant. “Yeah, okay.”

Your voice dips a little lower, teasing, as you smile back. “I really do think I’m feeling better, so. Maybe in the morning I can take care of you, too.”

Taehyung’s fingers brush the length of your jaw, then reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue.

“I’ve got this spray that makes my throat totally numb, so.”

He pauses, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

You’re laughing against his lips when he kisses you.

[idontgiveaflyinggrayson69]

Raw

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 & KO / @thirteenisles

Tagging: @smileysvech @pyotrkochetkov @hoesforthecanes @hockeywritingcollection

Relationship: Andrei x Kat

Warning: Smut. Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids). Cum play

Summary: Flashback to the first time Kat and Andrei fuck without a condom.

Word Count: 5.8k

Comments: Tiff and Katie asked for more Kat and Drei, so they get more Kat and Drei! (Also I know we’re all secretly happy sad that the Canes are eliminated so here’s a little something to cheer people up) Hope you guys enjoy!!! 

(c) nat g. 2023 // do not repost, do not claim as your own

March 2022

No matter what, if Andrei wasn’t playing on a Friday or Saturday night and he was home, they always had a movie night. Kat always looked forward to those days, getting Andrei all to herself after a long week of hockey, one of the few days she didn’t have to share him with the city of Raleigh, not that she was complaining, they both loved the city, the fans, and their passion. But it was nice to have him all to herself.

This week they were watching What’s Your Number. Kat picked it out. Andrei wasn’t exactly paying attention but he grasped it was another romcom. How could he pay attention when Kat was in nothing more than a pair of his boxers and one of his Canes shirts he outgrew and it had been over a week since he last felt her sweet pussy around his cock.

They had been on the road and when he tried to sneak out to see Kat in the middle of the night Jordo had walked him back to his room. He tried desperately to convince Jordo to let him go, but there was no negotiating with him. It was the night before a back to back and Jordo didn’t need their star up all night because his girl worked for the team.

But the joke was on Jordo because he was up late anyway sexting Kat all the things he was going to do to her once they got back to Raleigh.

But, because the universe was a cruel being, he strained his groin during the second half of the back to back. It wasn’t bad, just a tweak, but Kat shooed off his every advance since.

“You need rest,” she said.

“I don’t want you to over work yourself,” she said.

“It would be worth it, Kisa,” he said, but she wouldn’t have it.

Which brought them to Friday, spending their night off watching What’s Your Number on her living room couch, more than a week since the last time he had her.

It was a good movie, or good background sound anyway. He saw it out of the corner of his eye as he watched Kat. Her skin was warm as he rested his hand on her knee before dragging it upward, his thumb rubbing soft circles. He was young, wound tight from hockey, and he finally got the girl he had been after since he entered the league, of course every chance he got he was going to try to get some.

She had picked the movie, but it was secondary to him. Everything was always secondary to him. They had been together, officially, for just over a year, but, God, she could never get enough of him. It was crazy how she could go from indifferent toward him to insatiable. But he had truly and irreversibly wiggled his way into her life.

Not that Kat complained as she let her legs part a little more to give him more room, which he greedily accepted as he trailed his hand higher on her thigh till he found the edge of his own boxers.

“Drei,” she whined softly, her voice was like honey. “We’re supposed to be watching the movie.”

“I’m watching something better,” he hummed, his accent thick before he leaned in and softly kissed the exposed skin of her neck. She smelt like the vanilla bodywash she had been using and he wanted to drown himself in her scent. Kat tilted her head to give him more room and she hummed softly, her eyes fluttering close. “It’s been too long,” he added, even if it hadn’t been, his voice muffled by her skin.  

“Well, that’s not my fault,” she replied. “You’ve been sore from the game.”

“I’m not sore anymore,” he told her and nipped at her jaw before he smoothed it over with his tongue.

She let out a soft moan before she turned towards him and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she straddled his lap, pressing her hips into his. “No? You’re not sore anymore?” She asked and brushed her lips over his, humming as she teased him.

He caught her lips in a proper kiss, shamelessly gripping her ass to pull her closer as he moaned into the kiss. “Not even a little bit.”

She rolled her hips against him. “That’s good,” she hummed before kissing him deeply. He was never going to get enough of her lips and his fingers dug into her ass as he tried to pull her closer. She was his girl. His woman.

Kat could feel it as he hardened beneath her and she continued to grind down on his cock, moaning into his mouth the harder he got. “Sure you’re still watching the movie, sólnyshka?” He teased and his lip twitched up as he slipped the tips of his fingers past the band of her shorts.

“What movie?” She replied with a smirk before she nipped at his bottom lip, and he breathed a laugh before he kissed her again, gently kneading her ass.

Kat was gentle as she gentle dragged her nails down the back of his neck and she giggled when he shivered, but her giggle turned into a breathy moan as he brushed his fingers over her clothed pussy. It was his turn to chuckle as he slowly rubbed her, feeling the heat of her through the shorts, his shorts. “What? Not laughing anymore, sólnyshka?”

“Right there, Drei,” Kat moaned softly, her nails softly digging into his skin.

“Oh, here?” His touch was light and he purposely ignored her clit, wanting her to beg for it. Kat, his Kat, was so strong and assertive and he loved when she told him just how much she wanted him, just how much she needed him.

She kissed him again, rocking her hips against his hand as she tried to move his fingers to where she wanted them most. He bit her lower lip hard enough to make her whine and smirked as he releases it, “tell me where, sólnyshka.”

“Touch my clit, Andrei,” she whined. “Please.”

He hummed as he smirked and leaned back to give himself more room before he slipped his hand into the front of her shorts. He groaned at how wet she was, running his fingers over her slit before he rubbed soft, lazy circles on her clit. “Fuck, you are so wet for me.”

“Only for you, Andrei,” she moaned. He was the only man that could make her feel this good.

“I need to taste you,” he groaned as he circled his finger over her entrance. “Been too long since I’ve had my mouth on your sweet pussy; spent the whole roadie dreaming of your taste, Kisa.”

“Yeah?” She bit her lip, “you know what I want from you?”

“What, Kisa?” He hummed, just barely pressing his finger into her as he ate her alive with his eyes.

She leaned in, brushing her lips against his ear, her voice soft as honey, “I want you to cum inside me tonight.”

He froze and his jaw went slack as his cock throbbed. She didn’t— He had to have heard her wrong. Fuck the thought alone had him squeezing his eyes shut with a moan as he imagined how warm and wet and perfect she would be around his bare cock. “Kat,” his voice was broken. “You’re serious?”

“Very much so,” she whispered and pulled back to look at him, dragging her nails down the back of his neck. “I want to feel you, all of you. I want to feel you cum inside me, want you to fill me up till it leaks out,” her voice was soft as she twirled a piece of his hair between her fingers.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled in Russian before he kissed her deeply, tangling his fingers in her hair to pull her closer. “You feel what you do to me, Kisa? Feel how hard you make me?”

“Yes,” she breathed as she rocked against him. “Fuck, yes, I do.”

“Fuck, all I want is to sink into you and fuck you right now, feel your sweet perfect pussy around my cock. But no.” He had to taste her first and he pulled his hand from her shorts and lifted them to her mouth, brushing her wetness over her lips. She wrapped her lips around his fingers, her eyes fluttering shut as she sucked them clean. “Good girl,” he murmured before he kissed her deeply, licking the taste of her off her tongue.

She moaned into the kiss, rolling her hips against his, “take me to bed, Andrei.” He didn’t need to be told twice and he easily stood up, both hands on her ass as he carried her to bed to have his way with her.

“Oh—” Kat gasped when Andrei dropped her on the bed. He looked at her for half a second before he slipped his fingers into the band of her shorts and pulled them down her legs and he groaned when he finally got his eyes on her. It really had been too long.

His shirt was next to go and he tossed it aside before he knelt between her legs and pushed her shirt up. He was never going to get tired of just looking at her, she was so beautiful. His gaze alone makes her shiver in delight. He always made her feel wanted. His touch was gentle as he ran his hand up her calf. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured and kissed just above her knee.

“So are you, Andrei,” she said and she propped her head up a pillow so she could see him better.

He sucked a mark onto her inner thigh and smoothed it over with his tongue before he looked up at her, “you think I’m beautiful?”

“Beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, handsome,” she listed as she ran her fingers through his hair, and he was quick to kiss her inner wrist.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered in Russian and kissed her before she could question what he said. Her Russian was getting better, but some things would remain secret, even if she hated his little Russian secrets. “Should I give you another hatty?” He asked against her lips. “Make you nice and wet for my cock?”

“Whatever you want Andrei. I’m yours,” she replied and tried to pull him closer.

“Okay, Kisa,” he kissed her again before he began to trail his lips down her throat to her chest. He knew she didn’t like visible marks, but he left one about her collarbone before he trailed his tongue down her chest and around her nipple. “Fuck your breasts,” he groaned and playfully nipped at the soft flesh.

She let out a loud whine, “oh god.” He was so attentive and made her feel like she was on fire in the best way and when he looked up at her with those dark eyes she literally melted.

“Just me, Kisa,” he smirked and flattened his tongue over her nipple before he blew softly. “You should stop wearing clothes around the apartment.”

“But then I’d never get any work done,” her voice was breathy as she tried to laugh.

“Oh, I think we’d get plenty done,” he smirked and took her nipple between his lips and he used his fingers to give her other equal attention. His hands were so big they completely cover her breasts but he loved it, he loved every inch of her body from the beauty marks on her face, to the freckles on her chest, the dimples in her thighs, and scars on her knees. He loved every part of her. Every part of her was perfect and he was thankful to have any piece of her. He was always going to show her just how much he loved and appreciated her and he sucked gently on her nipple before he switched sides, ensuring they received equal attention.

“Fuck, Drei…” she moaned his name softly. She felt herself get even more wet as he worshipped her breasts.

He moaned against her skin, eyes closed as he focused, grinding his hips into the bed to get a little relief for himself. She made him so hard, she always had. He had been into her since day one, she drove him crazy in the best ways. But now that he had won her over, she felt the same. She couldn’t get enough of Andrei.

Slowly he pulled back and dragged the trip of his tongue down her stomach as he settled between her legs. He’d spend all day and night there if she let him. He blew over her clit and chuckled when she whined, “you are so wet for me.”

“Only for you,” she told him quickly. He was the only one who could get her worked up like this.

“Only me,” he repeated and bit her inner thigh hard enough to mark. His, he thought.

She gasped, but he soothed it over with his tongue before he eyed her pussy, the corner of his lips twitching up. He looked up at her and pursed his lips before he spat on it. She didn’t need it, she was wet enough, but he always loved the sound that left her mouth and the way she flushed when he spat on her pretty little pussy.

It was a half strangled gasp and half moan that left her lips and she arched her back as she reached down to thread her fingers through his hair. “Drei,” she moaned and tried to push his head down.

“Patience, Kisa,” he told her, looking up at her again as he slowly licked up her slit. She tossed her head back as she moaned loudly and she didn’t mean to, but her legs closed around his head as he circled the tip of his tongue around her clit.

It would be an honour to be suffocated by her, he thought, face buried against her pussy. Not a bad way to go at all.

She tugged his hair and reached behind her to grip the pillow, needing something more to hold onto. No one ate pussy like Andrei Svechnikov. No one.

His eyes closed as he focused on her clit and only on her clit, swirling his tongue around her bud as he sucked softly, driving her absolutely crazy before he dipped his head down to fuck her with his tongue, nose buried in her sweet cunt so the only thing he could taste and smell was her. It was obscene the things he could do with his mouth. And moaned against her like she was a meal sent from heaven just for him, enjoying it almost as much as she was.

She ground her hips against him and he only pulled her closer as he tried to bury his tongue deeper in her, his hands gripping her thighs, digging his fingers into her skin. Andrei loved to mark her up, loved to litter her skin with reminders of who made her feel good, who worshipped her body. He wanted everyone to know she was his, that he was hers.

It wasn’t like they weren’t so obviously together. Everyone knew she was his, but he just loved seeing the bruised road map of what he did to her the night before; he loved to retrace his lips over the marks the next day and remind her that he was the only one who could make her feel this good, and that no other man could or would.

Slowly he looked up at her, his brown eyes darker with lust. His cock was aching to be in her, but he wanted her to cum on his tongue first, needed her to cum on his tongue first. She was close, he could feel it as she fluttered around his tongue. “Oh, God, Andrei, please, baby,” she got out between broken moans.

He hummed against her and switched back to focusing on her clit, sucking as he traced the tip of his tongue over the bud just the way she liked. “Oh fuck— oh fuck.” Her moans got louder the closer she got until she came hard, her grip tightening on his hair as she rolled her hips against his mouth, moaning so loud it echoed in the room.

Andrei groaned as he felt her cum against him and he slowed his tongue to draw it out, his eyes closed in concentration. He truly would never get enough of her taste. He could drown in her cum and it wouldn’t be enough. When her grip loosened on his hair, he forced her legs wider and dipped his tongue down to gather her cum and he moaned louder at the sweet taste of her before he focused back on her clit. One wasn’t enough for him. One was never enough for Andrei, he needed at least three or maybe even four. He needed to have her shaking and pussy sensitive from his tongue.

“Jesus, fuck, Andrei,” she moaned and tried to close her legs out of sensitivity, but he was so much stronger than her and he pulled back as he forced her thighs open, a smirk playing on his cum coated lips before he pinched her clit between his fingers, making her squeal. “Oh fuck no— Ah—” was all she managed to get out because she was so sensitive and he knew how easily it would be to make her cum again.

“No?” He repeated and pinched her clit again with a smirk, his tongue darting out to lick over her cum coating his lips.

She gripped the sheets underneath her, so incredibly close and when he did it again, she came with a loud “fuck!”

He swallowed as he watched her and slowly rubbed her clit to draw her high out. “Again? So quickly? Oh, Kisa,” he hummed but he smirked as he watched her with hungry eyes.

Her thighs shook from the intensity of it and she bit her lip and whimpered, “so sensitive.”

“So soon?” He teased. He had only given her two and he knew she was capable of many, many more than that. Kat nodded, her skin flushed, but he wasn’t done with her, not yet, and he continued to softly rub her clit as he looked up at her.

She could feel her high building again from his lazy rubbing of her clit and she whined softly, her hips bucking into his hand. It was good, but she needed him to fuck her, needed him to fill her up.

“Andrei please,” she begged and he laughed against her thigh before he bit it again, leaving another mark in her soft perfect skin.

“Tell me what you need baby? Tell me what you want?” He knew exactly what she was after, but he wanted to hear her say it again.

“For you to fuck me,” she begged, lifting her hips. “I want to feel you.”

“Yeah? Want my cock in your tight little pussy, sólnyshka?” He bit the inside of her other thigh, happy to cover her in reminders of him.

Her voice caught in her throat before she nodded. It was a wonder she once considered herself to be a dominant before he ruined her. “I need your cock,” she told him breathlessly.

“And I need my hatty,” he hummed as he continued to rub her clit. Just as soon as she gave him another. She was so soft and wet under his touch and he quickened his fingers as he laid his other arm over her hips to keep her still.

She came with no warning, tugging his hair as she struggled against the arm over her hips as she clenched around nothing. “Please,” she whined as she rocked her hips up. “Want to feel your thick cock, Drei. Want to feel you cum and fill me up.”

He crawled back up to her, wrapping his hand around her throat, and he smirked as she arched into him, her eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “And you’ll get to feel it, you’ll get to feel all of me,” he told her and pressed his hips to hers as he kissed her deeply.

She moaned loudly into his mouth. It was the most she had ever felt him. He usually pulled back to get a condom, giving her but a moment of his cock resting against her, but not this time. This time it was a promise for what was the come and she hooked her leg around his hip and pulled him closer.

He rutted against her as he controlled the kiss. “Mine, all mine,” he muttered between kisses, his cock easily gliding between her folds.

“All yours,” she agreed and roughly gripped his shoulders, dragging her nails across his skin. “Andrei, please.”

“I got you baby, I got you.” He kissed Kat again before he sat up, wrapping his hand around his cock and he stroked himself a few times before he tapped his cock against her clit. “You ready?”

She nodded and reached down to cover his hand with hers to guide him to her entrance, fluttering at the feeling of his tip against her. He slowly pressed into her, his eyes rolling back as he swore in Russian. It was so much better than using a condom, she was so tight, warm, and wet and fuck—

He really had to think of something, anything, else because he’d cum too soon.

Her leg tightened around his hip and she moaned loudly as she fluttered around him. There was no barrier between them, just them, just him, buried deep inside her. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she tried to pull him closer. Even nothing between them wasn’t enough, she needed him closer.

He gripped her leg and hiked it over his hip to get himself deeper, moaning as she clenched around him and he started thrusting slow and deep, his eyes closed as he focused on the feeling of her alone.

“Yes, God yes,” she cried, her back arching as she closed her eyes. He filled her in the best ways, in the most indescribable ways.

“Fuck.” He could barely think of anything other than how good she felt around him. He muttered in Russian how good and perfect she was. She could only understand bits and pieces, but she opened her eyes and her pussy clenched at the sight of him. Andrei’s chest was flushed, his eyes squeezed shut, and his lips parted as he moaned, completely lost in the feeling of her. It was the hottest thing she had ever seen.

She couldn’t help but pull him closer and kiss him deeply, moaning into his mouth. “Feel so good, Drei,” she told him dreamily. “So fucking good.”

“Kisa, you feel like a fucking dream,” he groaned, kissing her again. He’d never tire of her lips.  

She moaned in agreement and bit at his bottom lip. She loved how absolutely wrecked he is. “You gonna cum for me, Drei? Gonna cum in my pussy?”

“Not until you cum first,” he replied and bit at her bottom lip, watching as it slapped back against her. “I wanna feel you cum around my cock.”

She nodded and trailed her hand down to her clit but before she could touch herself, Andrei knocked her hand away to rub her clit, groaning as she clenched around him. He was so close and he bit his lip to control himself. She needed to cum first. He needed to know the feeling of her cumming on his cock.

“Come on, Kisa. I want you to cum, want to feel your pretty pussy cum around my cock. Want to see the bliss on your face and hear my name rolling off your tongue,” his voice was breathy as he thrusted harder, deeper.

Her nails dug deeper into his shoulders and he knew they’d leave a mark but he didn’t care, he loved it, loved when she got possessive over him enough to mark him. “Don’t stop,” she told him breathlessly. “Don’t fucking stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, not gonna stop till you’re cumming around my cock and I’m filling you with my cum and—” he cut himself off with a bite of his tongue. For a brief moment he couldn’t help but think and knock you up.

His hips stuttered as he thought it, eyes momentarily dropping down her body. Kat could see it in his eyes and it sent her over the edge, her nails raking down his back as she came hard, her eyes rolling back with a long moan of his name.

Andrei squeezed his eyes shut and his hips stuttered as she clenched around him, her cum dripping down his balls, but he continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She will always cum first. Always.

She could feel her high start to roll into another and she dug her heel into his lower back to try to get him closer. “Fill me up, Drei,” she moaned, her voice breathless in his ear.

He leaned down and kissed her lazily, so close it only took a few more thrusts before his hips stuttered and he filled her up with his cum. He moaned loudly into her mouth and she hungrily swallowed it and she tried to pull him closer as she came again, moaning just as loud as she fluttered around him. She was so warm, so full, so good, he thought, and when he broke the kiss to rest his forehead on her shoulder, his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

Kat was gentle as she rubbed his shoulders. “God,” he groaned as he rested more of his weight on her.

“Feel good?” She laughed softly and gently ran her fingers through his hair.

“So good,” he agreed and he kisses her softly. “You’re so good.”

Kat smiled into the kiss, “you liked it a lot?”

He could only hum. He’d stay in her all night if she let him, but he didn’t want to crush her, so, as much as he didn’t want to, he gently pulled out, both of them wincing at the loss. “I loved it,” he told her.

She frowned at the loss of him and when he rolled onto his back, she rolled with him, pressing herself up against his thigh. “I did too,” she confessed.

“I think we’ll have to do it again… in about… ten minutes,” he grinned cheekily next to her.

“Ten minutes?” She bit her lip and lightly ran her nail down his chest, smirking as his muscles clenched under her touch. “You’re slacking. I thought one of the pros to dating younger was a fast rebound time.”

“Listen woman…” he gripped her chin and made her looks at him. “Your pussy is magic and sometimes it quite literally drains me away so maybe I need a few extra minutes.” Kat scrunched her nose up in disagreement, but it didn’t last long as he slid his hand down in between them, the tips of his fingers brushing her clit. “But that just means I have to pay you more attention in the meantime.”

Kat’s smirk fell as he brushed her clit with the tips of his rough finger. She was really sensitive and his fingers were big and rough and she instinctively rolled onto her back to give him more space, but he wasn’t after her clit. No, he shifted down till he was between her legs and he smirked as he looked up at her. His cum was leaking out of her. “Well we can’t have this…” he said before he scooped their cum on his fingers and pressed it back into her. “Gotta keep this inside you.”

Her breath caught in a gasp and she clenched around his fingers. He didn’t want her to waste his cum. And just when she thought he couldn’t get any hotter he proved her wrong as he licked his lips and he looked up at her, “can’t have it go to waste, right, Kisa?”

“No, we can’t,” she agreed and let her legs fall open more. She bit her lip as she watched him, “I wonder what it tastes like, your cum mixed with mine.”

He hummed and his gaze alone made her shiver. “Guess we have to find out,” he told her and he slowly pulled his fingers out and looked at her as he sucked his fingers clean. He moaned at the taste before he pressed them into her again and pulled them out and held them out to her. “How about you have a taste and be the judge.”

Kat hungrily took his fingers and her eyes closed as she licked them clean with a satisfied moan. “Tastes good right? You and me together?” He asked as he pulled his fingers from her mouth with a lewd pop and kissed her deeply, licking the taste of them from her mouth.

She moaned louder and pulled him flush against her. She could feel he was hardening again and she rolled her hips into his. “Very good,” she agreed.

“Yeah?” He asked as he took himself into his hand.

“So very good,” she repeated, holding his gaze and he guided himself into her again.

“The fucking best,” he agreed, his accent heavy. She moaned loudly, not caring if the neighbours heard through the window he left open. “I could spend the rest of my life buried in your sweet pussy,” he said softly in Russian. “You’re all I want; all I’ve ever wanted.”

He figured all she could pick up was maybe a few words, but he was wrong. She had been learning Russian, lessons stolen she could, and she understood every word he said. “You’re all I want, too,” she repeated back to him between thrusts and pulled him impossibly closer.

They were practically fused together, him buried so deep, and all he could smell was her, sweat and sex. He was more rocking into her than anything else, so close and intimate and she was so close again, so desperate to cum again. He was so deep, hitting her g-spot with every thrust. He was gonna fill her up again, make her cum.

“Drei,” she moaned as she clung to him. “My Drei.”

“Yours, Kisa, I’m yours,” he moaned, so close himself, but she had to cum first.

It only took a few more rock of his hips before she came again, moaning into his neck. It wasn’t as strong as her other highs, but it was still good, so intimate, and it was enough to send Andrei over the edge as well. He spilled into her with a loud moan of her name and filled her up with his cum. It was so good, so warm, and she didn’t think she could go back now that she had fully had him.

He let out a shaky breath and slowly rested his weight against her before he kissed her softly. “I love you so much,” he whispered against his lips.

“I love you more,” she whispered back.

He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Impossible,” he breathed and kissed her again before she could argue. She hummed against his lips. She’d let him have it this time. He certainly loved her longer, but she fell harder.

After a few moments of basking in the afterglow he pulled out, shushing her softly before he got up and headed to the bathroom to start a bath for the two of them to clean them up. “You good baby?” He asked when he came back, stroking her cheek.

“Very good,” she smiled sleepily at him as she leaned into his touch. “But I don’t think we’ll be needing any more condoms.”

He raised his eyebrows as he bent down and easily scooped her up in his arms, “yeah? No more condoms?”

“No more,” she hummed. “I don’t want anything between us anymore.”

He grinned as he sat her down on the edge of the tub. “I can get on board with that,” he said and quickly tested the water to make sure it was warm enough before he gently placed her in the water. He followed a moment later as he settled behind her. “I’ll throw the condoms out later.”

“Or you can just give it to the rookies,” she offered, making him laugh.

“Oh, Kisa, that’s generous. But none of them will be able to fit,” he laughed as he let his hand rest on her stomach.

She laughed with him. “An even better reason to give it to them,” she said as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Tell them they’re too small for you.”

He laughed louder as he nodded. She truly was the one for him. “I’ll toss them out like confetti.”

“You do that, big boy,” she smiled and rested her head back against his shoulder. She hummed when he kissed her cheek and he smiled to himself before he lathered a cloth up with Kat’s vanilla bodywash and began to wash her up. He was gentle as he ran the cloth over her; he was always so gentle, always cherishing her body, thankful for every time she let him touch her.

He started with her arms as he went up to her shoulders before he dipped under her arms and down her chest. He paid special attention to her chest as he washed her, and when he smiled at her whimper, she gave his chest a shove. His laugh made her chest warm and he held the cloth in his hand as he looked at her, so incredible in love with her.

Once they were both clean, he helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a fluffy towel. They both brushed their teeth before they used the bathroom and Andrei helped Kat to bed, her towel forgotten on the floor in favour of his arms.

She could still feel his cum leaking out of her, but it only made her smile as she snuggled closer, a piece of him still buried inside her.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smut (!!); unprotected sex (p in v); vivid recollection of forgotten childhood trauma; feelings of betrayal; jealousy; anxiety; panic attacks; mentions of therapy; mentions of an absent parent; sam is an idiot; abandonment issues; light mention of being under the influence of weed (lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.6k+

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: much to my disdain, this chapter has to be chopped in half. :((( ugh. the last part of this chapter has been a mf monster to write, and since i already finished up this entire first half today (a little more than half, actually), i figured i might as well post it. so, without further ado, here is the first part of chapter 8. . .

thank u to my girls @joshym & @alwaysonthemend for putting up w my ass. you two are the realest aaaand ilysm 😭

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

Two Weeks Later

Friday, August 26, 2022

The wound-up ball of tension in your tummy was about to let loose. 

His thrusts were getting desperate, his heavy breaths were mixing with yours. And you couldn’t help but look between you, where your bodies met. . . it made your heart beat even more rapidly in your chest, seeing you connected in such a way. It looked so right. You felt full. You felt whole. In your drug-induced haze, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander as you thought of the final step to feeling close to him. 

Fuck.

As soon as the thought entered your brain, you had to throw your head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much to imagine. 

Your mind was so fucking cloudy– nothing sounded better in that moment than to feel him fully.

You wanted it. Needed it. And you knew this time might very well be the last. And you had to feel him in that way. Just once. You’d get a Plan-fucking-B in the morning. It was worth it to feel him in that way. 

Just this once. This one last time. It would be the perfect ending to this beautiful chapter of your life. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Present Day

Saturday, August 13, 2022 

“Yeah. Not too bad,” you shook your head, as if it were nothing. But you knew your expression was still sunken and weird.

He studied your face for a bit after you’d spoken, his expression said he wanted you to say more. 

But you weren’t going to, and he knew it.

“What if I make you dinner, then we watch a movie or something?” He requested, his brow raising at the prospect. 

He’d do what now? Your tummy did somersaults at the idea of him taking care of you. . .and especially like that. Cooking for you?

Surely he had an ulterior motive. 

“What do you want in return?” You asked suspiciously, your tears evaporating as you squinted at him. 

“What do you mean?”

“You want sex after you cook me dinner or something? An even trade?”

He blanched at that, drawing his head back a bit to observe you. “Even trade?” He scoffed, scratching his chin. “What the fuck even happens inside that brain of yours, y/n?”

Going into defense mode, you placed your hands on your hips to square up. “I’m still learning you, Jake. I don’t know what to expect from you.”

“The worst, per usual,” he said, rolling his eyes and flicking at the tip of his nose with his index. “Your favorite thing to assume about me is the worst. Always.”

“Not true,” you scoffed, flushing. He wasn’t wrong. . .you were regularly unfair towards him. But. . . “You haven’t exactly been trustworthy the entire time I’ve known you. Think back.”

“I don’t have to. I know I was an asshole and I wish like hell that I could take it back,” he revealed, sending earnest eyes your way, swiping a sweet thumb across your cheek, taking time to appreciate your left cheekbone. Then, he moved to bashfully tuck his hair behind his ears, taking a moment to untie the hair tie from his finger to pull his hair into a bun. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

You got momentarily sidetracked by watching the action of him pulling his hair up, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through it, just as you liked to do.

Then you noticed him, waiting for a response as you drew your eyes from him. 

Clearing your throat, you refocused your thoughts. “Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off, not wanting to harp on it for too long, for fear of putting your foot in your mouth. “It’s whatever. Really.”

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t kind to you at the beginning, and I’m sorry,” he continued, looking you directly in the eye, showing sincerity in his deep brown irises. “I was going through a lot and took it out on you and that wasn’t fair.”

Nodding, you took the bait. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair. But,” you walked a couple steps forward, closer to him. Then, reaching a hand out, you held the side of his face. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what an ass he’d been before. He’d proven that he wasn’t truly like that. And you understood hurt feelings making a person act irrationally. “I get it. I’ve been through some shit, too, and I reacted in ways I shouldn’t have.” Smirking, you looked past him and thought back to your therapy sessions from years ago, reciting a few of your counselor’s words that’d stuck with you. “‘All that matters is that you see it, own it, and then grow from it.’ That’s what my therapist always told me when I was a kid, anyway.”

Swiveling your eyes back up to see his expression, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes had softened significantly at your vulnerability, seeming to take your words in. His eyebrows dipped and lips tilted in concentration. 

It always took you by surprise just how much his eyes showed his emotions. And how interested he always seemed in the things you would say.

“Very wise words,” was his response before he reached out to grip your bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he was moving towards the kitchen, calling back to you. “I’m gonna go make some stir fry. Chicken?”

You watched him leave, wanting to follow him wherever he went. 

But you didn’t. 

After responding in agreement to his suggestion, you made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower and wind down before dinner.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next morning, you woke up, curled in a fluffy pallet of blankets on the floor. 

Both of you, still in sweats. You, in a t-shirt, him, wearing no shirt (fuck yeah). 

No sex had happened the night before. Jake’d thought it would be a good idea to do dinner and a movie, but you’d had the bright idea to make a pile of blankets to lay on to watch the movies. And, of course, you’d let yourself fall asleep next to him. 

And. . . As much as you knew you shouldn’t admit it, it was fucking wonderful just falling asleep next to him. The act was so domestic that it should scare you. . . But all it did was make you want more. 

More you couldn’t have. 

But for now, you’d pretend you could.

Your head was resting on the same pillow as Jake’s, abandoning yours in your sleep for the sake of being closer to him. 

Though, rather than pulling yourself away, you did the complete opposite. You rolled onto your belly and wrapped yourself around him, one arm over his abdomen, a hand splayed on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to let yourself feel so tied to him in the midst of your sadness. It completely abandoned the idea of not being emotionally dependent on him. . .

But you also weren’t so oblivious to not see that you’d broken a few rules already. 

And, after your anxiety attack (because that’s exactly what it had been) last night, you decided it was better to just let yourself have this time with him now and not worry too much about the rules.

Rather than stressing about making sure you were following every fucking rule, you figured it would be worth it to appreciate the time you still did have with him. Because this wasn’t going to last forever, you felt it was a good idea to make the most of it while you could. 

It was going to be gone soon (too soon), and you weren’t going to take for granted the time you had left.

So, when you woke up, instead of immediately initiating sex, you took time to admire him. 

You propped your chin on the hand you’d put on his chest. Trying to memorize every freckle on his handsome face, tilted to the side, perfect for your line of sight. You studied him . . .his features, sharp, yet delicate. His tanned skin was perfectly sunkissed from spending the day in the sun at Sam’s AirBnb. His pretty lips, partially open like always. . . 

You’d learned that he didn’t snore a bunch. But, every now and then, like this morning, he’d let out the occasional, slight snore in his sleep. 

Usually, snoring of any kind annoyed you. Elsie was the worst snorer in the history of all mankind, and it always aggravated you. And any man you’d ever slept with who did it was always immediately woken up and kicked out of your bed.

But when Jake did it, it was nothing but endearing to you. It was something that he did that just made him him. 

You pressed your body closer to his- he was so warm. It felt so overwhelmingly natural to be so close to him.

You watched the way his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids as he slept, wondering what he dreamt about. Did he dream? And were they vivid like yours? 

Then, you absentmindedly ran a thumb lightly against his cheek, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt beneath your fingertips. 

Just as your pointer finger went to trace the cupid’s bow on his upper lip, he started stirring, showing telling signs of waking up. You stopped yourself before he could possibly wake up with your damn finger on his lip. 

Don’t want him to think I’m a fucking weirdo, you thought, resting your hand, again, on his chest. And I definitely don’t want him to know I was watching him sleep either. That would be embarrassing as hell.

This time, you laid your cheek on top of it, deciding to feign sleep for the duration of time it would take for him to wake up.

Not too long after, you felt a big breath lift your hand, then you heard his voice. 

“I know when you’re watching me,” he commented, his voice deep from just having woken up. 

You didn’t say anything, just lifted your head, an apologetic look on your face as you opened one eye at him in defeat. 

He had a soft smile resting on his lips.

“It’s cute,” he said, reassuring you, sitting up a bit underneath you to lean his head against the couch, balancing on an elbow. He reached a hand up to come gently through your hair with his fingers. 

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

He shook his head, his face thoughtful as he continued to look at you. “Not at all,” he replied. Then, a smirk grew on his lips. “The morning after we fell asleep in your bed—.”

“What?”

He raised a brow, as if to say ‘really?’ “When you fell asleep on the couch, I got you to lay down and try to sleep. Then, you yelled at me from your room—effectively freaking me out, by the way—and then asked me to sleep with you?”

You blushed, feeling stupid that you momentarily forgot. “Oh. Yeah.”

He raised his brows with a hum, the same grin appearing on his lips again. “I watched you the morning after. You slept later than me that morning, and I was so glad you did,” he watched his movements as he tucked a lock of bed-head hair behind your ear. 

“Why?” 

“Because you look so fucking ethereal when you sleep,” he said. “Not that you don’t all the time. . .but when you sleep? Dammit, you just look so peaceful. And I love that you feel that peace in those moments. Not all of the stress.”

It was your turn to hum in response, completely caught off guard by his kind words. You didn’t know why it still did surprise you to hear him say such things. It wasn’t out of character to hear sweet things leave his mouth, but it still felt like a gentle surprise anytime he did say something like that.

Then, something in your heart told you to open up. Let him in. 

And so, without considering anything else, you did. 

“You know, I don’t always sleep peacefully,” you commented, your hand now tracing circles on his chest. “That’s a sort of new thing. Good dreams. Peaceful sleep.”

His brow raised, questioning your words. 

“I haven’t always been able to sleep so well,” you started, apprehensively. But when his hand kept combing through your hair, and his eyes opened up to learn more, you decided it was safe. He was safe. You could share this. “There are things that happened in my past that caused a hell of a lot of pain, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve carried those painful things into my sleep with me. They’ve haunted me. Another thing my childhood therapist confirmed. The trauma caused me to have restless, terrible sleep.” You paused, remembering some of the nights you were too scared to be alone, sobbing and screaming in your bed, crying for help. Your eyes naturally watered at the memories, your voice wet with your next words. “Some fucking terrifying nightmares.”

You sniffled, trying to alleviate the oncoming tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him two days in a row. But, here you were. Jake brushed more hair behind your ear, then put that arm behind his head to lean up. The other strong arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He massaged shapes with his thumb, into the hip he held. 

Your eyes closed on their own, relishing the feeling of him reacting so gently to you. 

They reopened when you heard him clear his throat. His deep chocolate irises were shadowed with concern. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he pointed out, continuing to rub your waist. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to tell me anything that may hurt you.”

You considered his words for a few seconds, but ultimately decided what you wanted to do.

“I want to tell you.”

“Okay. I want to listen.”

You’d only ever opened up about all of this to Elsie (because she was there), and then Josh when you became his friend. But the urge to tell Jake about all of it was far too overwhelming to ignore. It felt as though you had to tell him. 

“Where do I even begin?” You pondered aloud. “What do you want to know?”

He hummed, smooshing his lips together in thought for a few seconds, squinting his eyes in thought as he peered up to the ceiling. You tapped your fingers against his chest, waiting for his input. 

“When did the bad dreams start? Can you pinpoint an age or anything?”

“After my mom left,” you replied, curling further into his body. 

He accepted your motion, encompassing you, keeping you close. 

“How old were you?” 

“I was ten. Left me sitting on the front porch as she left in a string of curse words. . . Blaming Els and me for all of it,” you stared into the space just past his head, thinking back on it. You felt brave revisiting it at this moment, for whatever reason. “I can’t recall everything she said that day or before, but what I do remember both from that day and before that day. . .,” you stopped, your face flinching a bit at the dark thoughts. “. . . It’s not good.”

Your skin crawled, and you weren’t liking the feeling. Needing to center yourself, you decided to look at him again to gauge his reaction. 

His face was rather relaxed, keeping a consistent air of calm to support you through your responses. “You doing okay?” He questioned, checking in. His brows dipped in concern for a moment, waiting for you.

Your lips lifted, back in the moment with him. 

This is the present time. He is what’s happening. The past is the past and I’m bigger than it, you recited. 

Some of the words were those advised by your childhood therapist. Truthfully, the lady had had some wise words. Jake’d been right when he’d come to that conclusion the night before.

A quiet, content smile was on your face when you responded. “Yeah. I promise. I want to tell you this.”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice quiet like your smile. “Who did you live with after?”

“My grandparents,” you said. “And Elsie.”

“Stayed with them until. . .?”

“Until I moved out to go to school at Pratt. When I moved here.”

“And you’re going to school for. . .?”

You grinned, appreciating his variation of questions. “Majoring in writing,” you groaned as the last word fell from your mouth. “And minoring in music.”

“Don’t like writing anymore?”

You sat on that for a second, then answered. “It’s not that I don’t like it. . . It’s that it’s not my passion,” you paused your motion on his chest and reached down to grab his hand that held your body. You lifted it up from under the fluffy blanket that covered you both. Holding his hand, you traced his calloused fingertips. “I admire how you went after your passion when you had the chance. I wish I’d gone after my own.”

He watched you, seeming to measure your words. “And yours is music, too.”

“Mhm. . . But not playing it,” you added. “Just listening to it– studying it. Learning more about it. I love writing, but I breathe those melodies.”

He smiled in response to that. “Me too. And I like that you feel that way, too,” he commented, letting your fingers play with his. “But who’s to say you couldn’t combine the two? Become a music journalist? A lyricist?”

For some reason, you’d never considered the latter. But it felt as though a fresh breath of air had been breathed into you. “I’ve never thought of being a lyricist, but that sounds. . .”

“Incredible?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I wonder how you get a job like that, though.”

You let go of his hand to fold both of yours on his chest, your chin on top of them. He moved his hand to encircle your waist again. “I’ll help you find something,” he assured. Your belly buzzed. The idea of him helping you with something so personal to you . . . it made you feel everything all at once. “Somewhere. You live in New York City. . .I’m sure the possibilities are endless.”

“I’m sure you’re correct,” you agreed, admiring the way his breaths would lift your chin, the way his bicep flexed as he moved the bent arm behind his head. 

A comfortable silence crept over the two of you, him so obviously watching you– admiring you. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. 

His next words confirmed it. 

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

Not sure what to even begin to say to that, all you could utter was, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, was a surprise, though. 

“Has no one ever told you?”

“Well, Josh says sweet things like that. And Elsie is great at encouraging me, too. . . But hearing you say something like that. . . those words. It just feels good. I don’t know,” you shook your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he cleared his throat. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you sniffed, for the second time that morning. More tears fell onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they left your mouth. 

“I want to tell you those things,” he said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

“Thank you,” again, was all you could say. 

“But the sex is pretty good,” he smirked as he said the words, his eyes glinting mischievously as he skirted a hand up the back of your shirt, skating fingers along your bare back. His eyes found yours when he got closer to your shoulders. “No bra?”

“You know I don’t wear one when I sleep.”

“So I’m assuming you knew we were gonna fall asleep out here?” 

“Mhm.”

“And you still let it happen?”

I did. . . And even though I shouldn’t, I keep breaking all of my own stupid rules, you thought in defeat.

“Wanted it to,” you remarked.

He hummed, watching you with a curious look in his beautiful eyes. You knew he was most probably thinking the same thing as you. 

But, all he said next was, “Can I ask you more questions?”

“Yeah,” you whispered in the quietness of the morning. The rumbling of thunder outside, followed by the pitter-patter of rain droplets against the living room window made goosebumps grow on your skin. “Nothing better than a quiet, rainy morning.”

“You are correct,” he replied in an approving tone. “So. . .your mother. . . Is it okay if I ask about her?”

“Yes,” your lips quirked. “I’ve already told you as much, silly.”

“I know, I know. . . It’s just a lot, I’m sure.”

You nodded to confirm. “It is. But I want to share this with you.”

“Thank you.”

“For trauma dumping?” You giggled. 

“For trusting me,” he said, serious in his reply. His eyes flicked to every inch of your face, taking you in. His hand, now massaging the tension from your neck. 

Miraculous that he just seemed to know the place where your tension settled. 

Not that it wasn’t a common place for tension to reside. But you wondered if he’d noticed you favoring the bottom of your neck during tense situations, over time.

Your heart hammered at the intimacy of the moment. You were so close to just leaning up and kissing him, but you didn’t want to cut conversation short. It was too enjoyable for you. 

It felt so freeing.

Trying to bring you both back to the topic at hand, you inquired. “What was your question about my mom?”

“Oh, yes,” he refocused, his hand now moving up to massage the roots at the base of your head. More goosebumps grew at the sensation. “Do you still talk to her?”

“Uh, no. Haven’t even seen the woman since she left. She hurt me so bad back then. . .I’ve kind of closed off the fact that she even exists,” you said. “She wouldn’t want to hear from me anyway.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It’s true. I’m just glad for the family I do still have,” you paused, deciding if you wanted to tack on the other words you were thinking. There was no reason not to, you’d already bared so much to him in a span of minutes. “Glad I have those people who want me.”

“I want you,” he wrapped a hand at the back of your neck, cupping the back of your head as one thumb rubbed over your pulse point. His eyes bore into yours, begging you to understand the words.

The next few moments were quiet and filled with everything left unsaid. What it was that remained unsaid, you didn’t know. Or maybe you did know.

He eventually let go, clearing his throat to show he was moving on. “Does Elsie feel the same? Closed off and all that?”

You blinked a couple times before responding. 

“Y-yeah. Pretty much. She and I are on the same wavelength about 98 percent of the time.”

“Imagine 100 percent of the time,” he blew out a breath, his eyes getting big as he stared off. 

“Twin life?”

He looked back at you, a grin on his pretty lips. “Twin life,” he confirmed. Pensiveness painted his features, then he spoke again. “Speaking of . . . Did you meet Josh at the record store?”

“Yes,” you responded. “Almost 4 years ago.”

“I’m jealous.”

“That I had that time with Josh while you missed him so bad?”

“Psh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No. I’ve spent enough time with that fucker through the years,” he snickered, winking at you. “I’m jealous that he got all that time with you. Getting to know you while I was in Illinois, wasting away.”

Your tummy lit up with butterflies again. But you treaded carefully with this topic. You didn’t need him making any assumptions about Josh again.

There was no reason for him to be jealous. And honestly, you wanted to show him as much.  

“Well, you shouldn’t get too jealous,” you said, moving from laying down. You positioned your legs on either side of his hips, then sat your ass on the tops of his thighs, opening yourself up to him. 

He took in a sharp breath, and smoothed his hands over the tops of your thighs, then slipped his hands past the waistband of your sweats, giving your ass a generous squeeze.

“Why’s that?” He asked, his brow lifting in question. He brought himself up a little more, leaning against the couch. As he moved to sit up, he used his hands on your ass to push your crotch against his hardening cock. 

The wet arousal in your panties pressed against you. You gasped at the feeling. 

His lip curled to show his top row of perfectly straight, white teeth. 

So fucking handsome.

“Well,” you ground your hips against him, his head lolling back momentarily. He got back by bucking up into you, just the slightest bit. It caused a breathy moan to leave your lips. “He will never have me like this, for one,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to your chest. “I only want you like this, Jake.”

Fuck. That felt so genuine slipping from your lips. And you wouldn’t tell him this (you could barely admit it to yourself), but you really did only want him. Like, in general. Out of all other men, he was the only one you craved. 

When did that even happen?! Your incredulous thoughts could have taken over had he not effectively distracted you.

He moved his hands up under your shirt, abandoning your ass. His eyes were glued to your hardening nipples as his thumbs pressed into your tummy, massaging your hot skin. 

It was getting harder and harder to believe there’d been a time that you would have stopped this—out of fear and a bunch of shit. Leaving him on his own, and you sulking, feeling conflicted as hell.

Though, these days, you couldn’t leave him. 

There was nothing that could pull you away from him in moments like these.

(And that was a scary thought you could consider later.)

Your body was drawn to him, putty under his touch. Bending down the slightest bit, you curled your hands comfortably in his ever-growing locks. Your nose nestled into the part of his hair right behind his ear. One of your favorite parts of his body was that little crook behind his ear. You didn’t know why. . . 

But dammit— he always smelled so delicious. His cologne held hints of sandalwood and amber. . . And something so delectably Jake.

And God, you loved his hair. The citrusy smell of his shampoo. The softness of the locks. The length.

Fuck, the length.

Silly as it may’ve been, you were so glad he was growing it out. The longer it got, the more his heat scale increased. And at this point, he was getting dangerously hot.

His cock nudged against you, leaving nothing to the imagination underneath the layers of clothing. Anytime you’d move your hips to entice him, his cock throbbed beneath you, making your panties more and more uncomfortable with how wet they were. 

You felt his hands flatten, traveling up your tummy slowly. But just as he was about to touch your breasts, he switched directions, running his calloused fingertips down your back instead. 

“Asshole,” you whispered in his ear. You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking. 

The little raspy laugh beneath you gave him away.

Your skin grew goosebumps at the sensation of his rough fingertips making soft shapes on your back. 

But you wanted his hands headed back in the direction they were before. 

Your nipples were blatantly expanding the fabric of your t-shirt, begging for him. 

And, when you pulled away to observe his face, he was already waiting for you, his eyes burning into yours, all the way down to your heart. 

Though. . .he didn’t stay there for long. He let his gaze travel back down to your breasts, his pupils dilated, filling his iris almost completely black. 

He looked hungry and your hips were moving of their own accord at that point. Every bit of him you got was making you need more, more, more. 

“I love your fucking tits,” he growled, wrapping one strong arm behind your back and effectively placing you beneath him. 

Your breath momentarily left your lungs, making you release a huge sigh as he arranged you so your back laid nicely against the soft blankets and pillows. 

“What do you like about them?”

He groaned, smoothing his hand up your stomach again. His hand cupped the underside of one breast. You sighed at finally feeling his hands where you wanted them.

“I love that they’re yours,” he started, reaching his thumb to rub and pinch at your left nipple. “I love that the color of your nipples is the same color as your pretty lips,” he lifted your shirt the slightest bit, sucking one bud into his mouth, kissing it like he would your mouth. Then, he replaced his mouth with his hand, squeezing your breast as you arched into his touch. 

Finally, he connected his mouth with yours, his bottom lip slipping between your lips to deepen it just a bit. You moaned into his mouth as he did yours. Then, he pulled away, leaning on his forearm. Switching between tits with one hand, he cupped the bottom of each, moving his hand under them enough to watch them jiggle. “And I love watching them bounce as I’m fucking you.”

“Shit, Jake,” you moaned, pushing yourself further into his hand. You were aching for him to be inside of you. “Fuck me so you can see what you like, baby.”

He sat up, slipped his sweats (there having been no underwear underneath, apparently) down his thighs, thick cock springing free. The sight made your belly swirl and your center wet with need. 

Once he was completely naked, he repositioned above you. 

But your skin was itching with the feeling of still being clothed. You needed to feel his warm skin against your own.

“Move,” you motioned for him to back up. You sat up as he took the hint, sitting back on his knees beside you.

His eyebrows wrinkled and his eyes grew worried. “Where are you go—?”

But he went silent as the t-shirt left your body and your bare chest flashed at him. And as you stripped yourself of the shirt, your boobs bounced a little, just as he liked. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching for himself. You watched, your throat tightening, as he looked down at his shaft, his mouth falling open, just slightly, as he gave himself a couple of short, quick pumps. 

Dear God.

But he seemed dissatisfied.

And when you’d normally stop him and tell him to let you do it instead, you didn’t this time. 

But it seemed he still wanted your help.

You just sat in awe as he stretched his hand out to you. You were still as a statue as he gripped your chin, pulling it down the slightest bit. You followed his lead and opened your mouth more with his gesture. Then, you watched as he moved the hand, palm open, in front of your mouth. 

“Spit for me, baby,” he nodded at the hand in front of you. 

You didn’t argue, doing as you were told, heart racing as you spit in his hand. 

After you’d done what he wanted, he wrapped the hand around the base of his thick cock, giving himself a few long strokes from his skilled hand.

Though, as soon as he threw his head back with one particularly generous, tight-fisted move, you decided that it was officially past time to get naked.

You made quick work of your sweats, his eyes flicking up to watch you pull them off in a flurry. Then you hooked your fingers into your soaked underwear, getting them off as fast as possible.

You wanted to be the one to please, rather than his hand. 

You were growing jealous of the fist, as it held his pretty dick the way your pussy was aching to. 

When you were finally just as bare as he was, you laid on your back again. You spread one leg wide to open up for him, keeping the other flat, against your heap of blankets. In this position, he’d be able to see the bottom curve of your ass, your full breasts, and your slick pussy.

He didn’t see you, though, as he’d gone to focus on pleasuring himself, eyebrows drawn and whimpering a bit as he continued to watch his hand work at a steady pace. 

“Jake,” you called quietly, urging him to look at you and come to you. 

As soon as his name left your mouth, he looked up from where he was watching himself work his cock. After one hungry once-over from his dark eyes, he bit his lip.

“You ready?” You asked, slowly spreading both legs a little more for him, reaching two fingers to slide through your wet folds, shivering at the feeling of finally being touched. 

“Want me to eat your sweet pussy, baby?” He questioned, his voice a velvety rasp. 

Ready to please, his hand left his thick cock in order to move the short distance it took to be closer to you. 

“I want that pretty dick inside of me,” you responded, your voice exuding all of the need you felt running through your veins. “Now.”

And in a flash, he was on top of you again. His tip, damp from your saliva, nudged its way to the place it knew so well. 

Before any more words could be spoken, he pushed inside of you in one swift take. The two of you sighed in unison, relief flashing over his face, as you were sure it did yours, too.

He leaned both forearms on either side of your head, keeping his handsome face close to yours as he fucked you, thick cock stretching you well with each deliberate, hard thrust. 

His eyes were trained on your heaving tits, doing just what he wanted them to.

“I was starting to get jealous—,” you paused, whining with one particular snap of his hips, his dick hitting your secret spot. “Of-of that hand,” you said, your voice shaking on the words. 

His forehead was beaded with sweat already, ever-energetic in his pursuits—whether it be playing music or in the bedroom. 

“Don’t be,” he responded, pinning you with a stern look from his eyes, tone firm. “Your pussy feels better than anything else.”

The telling sounds of your bodies connecting only added to the ecstasy of the moment.

“Took-took y-you too long to get the hint,” you panted. 

“It was a few seconds,” he said, rocking his hips extra hard with the last word. 

Your toes curled with a moan. 

“Still too long.”

“Impatient.”

“No, I just know what I want,” you grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues fighting to lick further into the other’s open mouth. 

With one final swipe of his tongue against your teeth, he pulled away. “You’re high maintenance.”

You were suddenly self-conscious, overcome with a feeling that you weren’t good enough for him. That you annoyed him.

You covered it up with a defensive, haughty tone. “So?”

“I fucking love it.”

Oh.

Your body opened up at that, seemingly on its own. You bent your knees, spreading your thighs even more, letting him sink deeper. 

You grabbed at his biceps, gripping them to give yourself some sort of grounding as he started giving all he had, each thrust of his harder than the one before it. 

It was painful and delicious all at once. 

Fuck he felt so good.

The way he filled you was unlike any man before him. He fit so fucking well, and your center never failed to grip him just right.

“I also love the way your pussy feels,” he said, breathing heavily. “You like how I feel?”

You grinned, feeling drunk on him. Your belly clenched, simultaneous to your center with each rock of his hips. Sighing, you let your hands move to hold onto his strong shoulders. 

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you sighed, looking down to where your bodies met. It was almost too much. When you went to look up, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You squeezed his shoulder. “Jake.”

A concerned look painting his features, he stopped, checking you. “What? What’s wrong?”

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek, rolling your hips once, needing the pressure of him moving inside of you. “Nothing at all,” you went to tuck his hair behind one of his ears, reassuring. “Just got an idea.”

He picked up his movements: languid strokes, this time, making you forget about everything besides him momentarily. “And what is that?”

You kept on when you could find the words. “I—uhhh,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as he moved to lay his belly against yours, knowing the friction would be perfect for your swollen, throbbing clit. “I want to pl—oh!,” you sucked in a breath, seeing stars for a moment. Once you were able, you continued. “Wanna play a record.”

“Right now?” He grunted, making one hard rock of his hips into yours. 

Your toes curled, still feeling the softness of his tummy on your tender bundle of nerves as his tip repeatedly hit your secret spot. “Yeah.”

He came to a slow stop, eyes trained on yours. He stayed there, watching you with an unspoken question in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing like they did when he thought deeply. 

“Is that okay?” You asked, trying to break him from his reverie, nervous you’d freaked him out with the odd request. 

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, hair effectively falling from where you’d tucked it. “That sounds incredible, actually.”

Butterflies let loose in the pit of your stomach. Of course he’d like the idea. He loved music just the same as you did. 

He pulled out, and you instantly missed him. But you watched him lazily, dreamily as he stood up smoothly, and walked to the shelf of records (now a mixture of his and yours, of course). “Which one?” He wondered aloud.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”

As he searched through the albums, you let your mind wander with your eyes.

His body was a work of art. 

His thighs, muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage. 

The perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods. 

And those broad shoulders that were strong to match his equally strong personality.

When he turned a bit towards you, his eyes quickly scanning the back of a vinyl, your eyes instantly found his straining dick. His tip, still swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit thrummed and twitched, seeing how it now glistened from your dripping pussy. Dammit you needed him to hurry. 

But most of all, damn this idea for taking him away from you.

Once he turned to you fully, an Aretha Franklin vinyl in hand, you found his eyes. They were questioning, but you looked away from them to admire your most favorite parts of his body. 

His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck.

There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle. 

And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature. 

His aura was compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks, and sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in. 

He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of. . . And in moments like these, you wished more than anything that he was yours. 

But he wasn’t. 

And that bitter thought helped to snap you out of your trance, finally looking at him to answer. 

He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”

You flushed, rolling your eyes to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Glancing briefly at the record, squinting to truly recognize it, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”

“Agreed.”

He turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew you’d made the right choice. 

The sound added to the bliss you were already feeling on this quiet, rainy morning.

The combination of watching him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit.

“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you. 

You smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.” 

“I think so, too,” he said, eyes lifting with a grin.

When he went to lean over you to pick up where you left off, you scooted over, motioning for him to lay down instead. 

Without question, he did as you wanted, and as Aretha sang of a man making her feel like a natural woman, you sank onto him, letting him stretch you so well. 

The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . . 

But, in moments like this one, when one hand would be holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .

Your world tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like this made a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation. 

And, as you listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .

When my soul was in the lost and found,

You came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me,

Till your kiss helped me name it.

This song perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had been the bane of your existence so recently was now a light on your darkest days.

And, as you watched him, his hips beginning to move on their own, making you feel complete and right. . . You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. 

And not just because of the sex. It was him. Having him around made you feel . . . whole.

Without evening knowing or trying, he’d been helping you find missing pieces to your puzzle. 

Hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good. Some bad. But all you. 

Pieces you’d forgotten even existed. 

And by just being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man. 

As you rode him, leaning down on your forearms to get close to his face, you gave him a long kiss. A kiss that you hoped said thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him. 

But as you separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you looked into the deep pools of his eyes that held so much. And you knew you had to say the words out loud.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand as you felt new tears cloud your vision. Your hips were moving on their own, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You were holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the song as you had this moment.

He held your gaze, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match your own. Both of you stayed there for a minute, taking the other in. 

You kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you focused on finding a release for you both. 

Just as another favorite of yours came on. 

The opening chorus resonated with you just like every time you’d heard it before, but this time it was different—better—as he laid underneath you, holding you. . . Staring at you with eyes that held the motherfucking world.

Like the sweet morning dew, 

I took one look at you,

And it was plain to see you were my destiny.

With my arms open wide, I threw away my pride.

Feeling everything all at once, you spread your legs wide, thighs stretching out on top of his to get as close as you could to him. Then you bent your legs at the knees, and leaned toward him, laying on top of him and nuzzling into that sweet spot behind his ear. You made yourself comfortable as you knew this would be your undoing. 

It always was from this position. 

And this song was just feeding into the emotions coursing through your heart, intensifying all of it at once.

Your favorite way to finish was in this exact position, and you knew at that moment, that it would take you no time. 

Fucking him at that moment felt extremely dissimilar to all of your times before. The damned music was untying every string you’d used to close up your fragile heart. 

While lost in your sudden wave of thought, he took over, knowing all the moves. He’d grown familiar with this position, just as you had. He knew your body. What you liked. 

He grabbed a hip and a handful of your ass, and moved your body down forcefully to meet him while also thrusting his hips up. 

The contrast of motion and the tugging at your heart helped every piece of you to get the much needed stimulation. And fuck if it didn’t make your thighs shake.

You whined, your toes curling as, simultaneously, his tip hit your g-spot and your clit nudged against the lower part of his tummy. 

“Jakey,” you moaned. 

“I know,” he breathed hotly, not letting up on his motions in the slightest. “I can fucking feel you pulse around me, baby.”

“You like it?” You sighed, still next to his ear, needing to hear the affirmation from him.

“Best fucking feeling in the whole world.”

Your tummy lurched at that, butterflies fluttered their wings. 

That’s how you feel for me, too, you thought.

And with one more strategic move of his hips, you saw stars. You felt every nerve ending light up. Your skin felt like static.

“Oooohhh,” you moaned, your body shaking. 

He groaned, whining a bit. “Y/n—I’m—.”

You felt far away as he tapped your hip, sinking into all things Jake, Jake, Jake.

You jostled back to reality right as he lifted you off of him, depositing you as carefully and quickly as he could on the covers next to you both in no time.

Just as you laid down, he was instantly on his knees, warm seed spilling onto your tummy, right where he’d placed you. 

You blinked and shook your head, registering what’d almost happened. Your thoughts were flying— going crazy. 

“Fuck,” he said, flopping down next to you as he slid a hand down his face. “That was a close one.”

“Yeah,” was all you could mutter, your heart beating hard against your chest.

Before much more could be said, he sealed the interaction with a slow, sure kiss and got up to fix you both breakfast.

Now that you’d had his cooking the night prior, you were really looking forward to the breakfast. You’d learned the man was extremely gifted in culinary— just as he was in music. 

But, even as the bacon crackled and the vanilla-laced smell of fresh waffles wafted in through the open layout of the apartment, you weren’t really thinking about his cooking. 

No; inside your mind, you were swirling back and forth with how close you’d felt to him. How sex was starting to feel so effortless and all-encompassing with him. . . And that coupled with how much you’d been feeling in the moment?

It was obvious he’d carved a place in your heart.

A big one.

But you’d worry about that later. 

Because. . .what was clawing at you more was one particular thought. 

You now had a nagging curiosity of what it might feel like to have him actually finish inside of you. 

How in the hell had you let it come to this?

-🌼🌼🌼-

Every year, it was tradition to have a family dinner at your grandparents’ house to celebrate a new year of school. 

But this year, on a whim, you decided to make it a little different. . . You acted on impulse and invited Jake to it. 

To your surprise (and excitement), he’d agreed with no hesitation.

And before the annoying voice in your head could say anything, you reassured it that him coming with you wasn’t a couple-y thing. 

Not at all.

You’d had time to think back on the way you’d started cracking during sex the other morning. 

And you had already started the process of tying your heart back up, protecting yourself from a whirlwind of unnecessary, surely unreciprocated emotion.

He liked having sex with you, that was it. And it could be that way for you, too. It had to be.

The flash of feelings you’d felt during sex a few mornings back honestly meant nothing— you chalked it up to just being caught up in the moment. You had simply gotten far too ahead of yourself.

As you got ready that night, you thought back on the few times your grandma and grandpa had asked about your roommate. You were sure you’d only thought to invite him, because you’d been subconsciously thinking it would appease your wondering grandparents. 

You also just really enjoyed spending time with him. That much you could come to terms with. And, admittedly, you really wanted him to meet your grandparents.

Of course, you were a little nervous at the prospect of him meeting your them (more your judgmental grandfather than your grandma). But, nonetheless, you were really looking forward to having him there with you. 

And, the cherry on top: Elsie would be there to alleviate any weird tension your grandparents may add. . . So, truly, it was the ideal time to have him come meet them. 

At 5:00, thirty minutes before it was time to leave, he still wasn’t home. You knew he had a few lessons today, but he’d assured you that he would be home on time. 

Though, you couldn’t help feeling nervous that maybe he’d regretted saying yes, and he was going to run late on purpose just to get out of going to dinner. 

Before your thoughts could get too crazy, you got a text from him. 

Jake, 5:10 p.m.: so I’m still working with this fuckin client :( 

But at the sight of the text, your stomach sank. 

I knew it, you thought, downhearted. He’s gonna try to get out of it.

Then, another text came through.

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: and I think it’s the time of day

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: but I’ve had like 3 Ubers in a row cancel on me for my scheduled time

He’s really pulling out all the stops, you thought, feeling your chest tighten, anger coming into play. Just say you don’t want to go.

While you were sulking, you noticed one more text pop up in its gray bubble. 

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: I hate to ask you to do this 

Here it comes.

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: but can you pick me up on your way to your grandparents house? I really don’t wanna miss it

You could’ve sighed with relief. In fact, you did. Watching the screen for a few more seconds, you contemplated waiting a bit to respond. Play the classic ‘hard-to-get’ and ‘make-sure-he-knows-I-don’t-take-this-too-seriously-game’ and keep him on the line. . .

But you couldn’t wait. And probably too quickly, you texted back. 

You, 5:13 p.m.: I’d be happy to. I’ll be there soon. Just send me the address.

And within five minutes, the address was sent as you were scooping Stevie some fresh food in her dish. And as soon as you saw it, you were making your way out the door, hurriedly making your way to the car. 

Why am I so anxious to see him when I literally just saw him this morning? You thought, as you started the car, hearing your soul music playlist take over the car’s stereo. Calm the fuck down, y/n.

But you couldn’t help it as you pulled quickly out of the parking lot, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

When you pulled up to his client’s house, you suddenly saw the appeal of the private lessons. You were sure he got paid good fucking bucks to give lessons to whoever it was that lived in this mansion of a place. 

You were busy admiring the giant home, when you felt your stomach flutter at the sight of him, carrying his acoustic guitar case. 

Though, your gaze didn’t stay on him for long as you caught sight of the beautiful woman with flowing, jet-black locks, walking out of the door behind him, her pristine black dress. Her full ass, big tits, and small waist accentuated perfectly in the outfit. You saw her blatantly checking him out and saying something as she followed behind him. 

Whatever it was she was saying, it made him laugh. Truly laugh. His dimples were showing and his mouth was open wide, then he said something back. 

But he was seemingly oblivious to her glances at his ass as he continued walking ahead of her. The perfectly straight, gleaming white smile on her glowing caramel skin was wide with whatever he said and whatever it was that she was saying in return. 

Your blood was boiling. And it just got worse as you watched her come up behind him and lightly grab his bicep, turning him gently to face her. 

For a few brief seconds, you watched in terror, afraid that you were about to witness a kiss between him and this woman. 

Thankfully, you didn’t. 

But what you did see still made tears climb up your throat. 

You watched him sit his case down, and then saw an extremely genuine, heartfelt hug take place between the two. It wasn’t a quick, friendly side hug, it was a full-on hug. She was grasping him tightly, holding the back of his head as she clung to him. Her eyes closed as she continued speaking over his shoulder.

At one moment, her mouth closed and you saw just how beautifully shaped and plush her soft lips were. She was strikingly gorgeous. Everything about her. 

Was this her house? Was he giving her lessons? Or did she have a kid that he was giving lessons to? 

Whatever the case may have been, you had to swallow back every tear that was threatening to escape as he started walking toward you, case in hand again. 

She stayed on the sidewalk, watching him walk down the steps to the curb where you’d pulled up. 

Right as he got to your car, he turned around to wave at her once more. 

And then, what you heard him say through the closed door made your heart fall to the very pit of your stomach.

“It’s my favorite part of the day!” He laughed heartily, before finally opening the door to the backseat. 

His favorite part of the day? Was it being with her? Fuck.

You turned to face the front of the car, gathering yourself as you stared out the windshield. You were so embarrassed. For a variety of reasons. 

Your hands shook as you held tightly to the steering wheel. 

The back door shut, and you prepared yourself for him being close to you by clearing your throat and reminding yourself of a few important things.

We are not together. I don’t love him. God no I don’t, you shook your head at the idea of that. And he can be with whomever he pleases. It’s none of my business. 

But when he opened the door to the car, all thoughts from before vanished. The musings from your self-mantra and your worries of the girl had dissipated as soon as he spoke in his ever-raspy, sweet tone. 

“Hi, beautiful.”

You glanced over at him, a tight smile on your lips working to mask any worry that there may have been. Working to convince him and yourself that things were okay. 

You couldn’t help but ask. “Is she a client or does she have a child taking lessons?”

He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his nose. “Oh, she’s the client,” he said, his smile matching his tone as he spoke of her. “She’s doing really well. I’m proud of her progress.”

The next question slipped from your lips out of pure curiosity, nothing more. “Does she live in that giant house all by herself?”

“Yep. Single. No kids,” he affirmed. “Crazy, huh? Oh! I almost forgot,” he reached over the armrest and into the backseat to click open his case and get something from it. 

His proximity to you was overwhelming, the intoxicating smell of sandalwood and amber infiltrating your senses.

Please want me more than you might want her, you pleaded silently. 

When he was sitting in his seat again, he lifted to reach into his back pocket, getting his wallet out.

“What did you almost forget?” You inquired, trying to mask your ridiculous thoughts with a plain tone.

“This,” he held up a guitar pick, before opening his wallet to put it inside. “My lucky pick. I always use it at my lessons. Forgot to put it back in my wallet today. Got carried away talking to her.”

Fuck. 

Then, without meaning to, you caught his gaze. The a/c blowing against your hair and face, cooling you off from your distressing thoughts.

But your bearings were almost lost again with the sincerity you found in his eyes, and with the hand that fell to squeeze your thigh as he leaned over the console to kiss your cheek. 

Closing your eyes momentarily, you turned your attention back to the road right before you put the car in drive.

We are not together. Everything is fine. Whatever we are— it’s fine. Stop worrying, you chanted all of this internally as you increased the volume on Victoria Monet, gearing up for your playlist to serenade you for the duration of the drive. Drown out your ridiculous train of thought.

“I actually like this,” Jake commented, his hand still on your thigh. His thumb sweeped wide circles on your inner thigh, burning through your jeans. “What’s it called?”

Coming to the stop sign at the end of the street, you waited for the car on your right to go as you responded. 

“We Might Even Be Falling In Love,” was your simple response, right before you took your turn at the four way stop.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The car ride to your grandparents’ was slightly tense at first, but eventually you got over it as Jake started making his regular small talk. He was the same as always. Anytime you talked with him, he reminded you of his brother with how intent and caring he was about every word that left your mouth. 

But, for you, it meant more coming from him than it did Josh.

Jake was just. . .special to you. And you wanted to be special to him.

It was a relief. And by the time you pulled up to the quaint, familiar house, everything felt the same as it always did. You were feeling better. . he was him and things felt normal. Felt okay. 

As you walked up to the front door, him following you closely behind, you felt comfortable. And when you entered the house, it felt so good to have Jake in tow, the never-changing atmosphere of the home combining perfectly with having him near. 

You were giddy with the fact that he was there.

And it just continued to get better as the night wore on. 

Both of your grandparents greeted Jake with open arms, real welcoming smiles adorned their wrinkling faces. Your chest, warm with contentment as you watched the three of them interact. Jake, continuing the theme of coming out of his shell, as he made smooth conversation with your people. 

As you’d been standing in the entryway chatting, Elsie’d rounded the corner from the kitchen. And to your delighted surprise, Josh had been in tow behind her. 

You knew they’d decided to take it to the next level after the night at the bowling alley. They were becoming the power couple. So it made sense that he’d be here tonight, too.

Everything was absolutely perfect. Elsie and Josh being there made the ideal mix of people for Jake’s first time meeting your family. 

Then dinner came.

“Joshua, I will never get over how sweet it was for you to make the drive to us with Elsie a few weeks ago,” your grandmother commented as she poked some salad with her fork. “Didn’t leave her alone on that late night drive.”

“She is in good hands with you,” your grandfather agreed, making sure to catch Josh’s eyes to emphasize his words. 

“I’m lucky to have her,” Josh smiled in response, kissing Elsie’s cheek. 

Everything was going great, conversation flowing until your grandmother spoke next.

“Y/n, honey, how long have you been seeing Jake?” 

Your eyes stayed trained on your plate, suddenly feeling all eyes on you. You heard Jake clear his throat from where he sat next to you. Fuck. Of course she’d ask this. Assume that you two were dating.

To your relief, Elsie started speaking for you. 

“Grandma, they aren’t together,” she said, covering smoothly with a giggle to top it off, trying to alleviate any tension.

You took that as your cue to look up, monitoring the situation. 

“Oh,” your Grandma responded, a little smile on her face as she put an aged, perfectly manicured hand to her forehead. “Silly old me. I guess I just assumed because you were here together tonight, sis,” she looked at you, her eyes apologetic. 

“You sure act like it,” your Grandpa chimed in, motioning with his fork at you two sitting next to each other. 

“Howard, quit,” your Grandmother defended. 

At your Grandpa’s comment, you finally found your voice. 

“Elsie’s right. We are not together,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “He’s just my roommate.”

“Harsh, kid,” your Grandfather interjected. “Not even a friend?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, looking over at Jake who seemed to be trying his best to stay focused on his plate, dodging any involvement in the conversation. “But mostly just my roommate.”

For some reason, the awkward air persisted, hanging in the air around you. 

Your words felt wrong. You knew you were friends (and more than that), but you didn’t want to get too mushy, for fear of being questioned further. You were trying your best to diffuse the tension, fixing it so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

You were so fearful of somehow exposing your current predicament—especially to those in the room. You hadn’t even told Elsie of your whole ‘fuck buddy’ situation. Shockingly. 

She’d known about you two having sex that first time. . . But you had never told her anything further than that.

Honestly, you’d been too focused on Jake the past few weeks to even think to inform her. It was something that only you and Jake shared and you mostly liked it that way. 

You also didn’t want to tell her because you were positive she’d question the situation. Make you admit things you didn’t want to. Things you couldn’t admit. Push you to say too much. You didn’t need her to make it anything more than what it was. 

It was your little secret. And you intended on keeping it that way. 

Josh swooped in seamlessly, taking over the conversation with talks of all things music and film. 

Eventually, Jake tuned in to the music talk. He’d stayed quiet for longer than you’d anticipated . . . surely feeling the awkwardness of the initial question with you. But he’d played it off well. 

And as you watched him interact with your grandparents, the version of him that you witnessed made your heart flutter. Your senses were filled with all kinds of happiness. 

Eventually, you, the twins, and your Grandpa had migrated to the living room as Elsie and your Grandma went to prepare dessert.

You sat there, across the room from him. You, on the couch, him on the ottoman next to your Grandpa’s chair. Why he’d sat so far away from you, you didn’t know – but you didn’t care. You just enjoyed watching him talk. 

The way he got along with your Grandpa made you light up with joy considerably. 

Your Grandfather was a hard nut to crack. Not to compare the two, but you wouldn’t ever put it past Josh to get through to your Grandpa (because Josh was, quite possibly, the easiest person in the world to talk to). So seeing his easy talk with your Grandpa was expected. 

But Jake? Jake was just a quieter person by nature. Not in a bad way, by any means. . . He just was. You liked him that way. He was thoughtful and kept parts of himself hidden. . . revealed more of himself the more he trusted someone. You really liked him for all of his ways. 

But the way he was bonding with your Grandpa? It was just astonishing. 

By just being himself, Jake was making your Grandpa open up more than ever.

You’d never seen your Grandpa this way.

As you watched the three of them, Jake’s efforts to connect with your Grandfather honestly seemed to flow more smoothly than the other twin’s. 

Josh had even ended up leaving the conversation, going to join your Grandma and Elsie in the kitchen, as the other two seemed to be venturing into their own conversation. Neither Jake nor your Grandpa needed a buffer. But you’d stayed anyhow, too intrigued by them to want to leave. 

And, you just really liked being where Jake was. He made you feel so calm and happy.

You also just couldn’t miss out on the moment in front of you. . .you’d never seen your Grandpa talk so animatedly.

The way he talked about music with Jake was shocking to you, as you didn’t know he loved music to the depths that you did. 

But apparently, Jake knew how to bring out that side of him. The smiles exchanged with the topic of conversation were exhilarating— so joy-filled.

Then, to your complete shock, your Grandpa brought up how he’d played guitar for years before your mother had been born. 

“You played guitar, Grandpa?!” You couldn’t help but ask, as you quite literally sat on the edge of the crisp, floral sofa. “How come you never told us?!”

“Well, I never really felt the need to revisit that part of my life,” he said, sighing. “You two girls didn’t need to be privy to that. It’s all in the past.”

You shook your head. “I love that about you, Grandpa. . . I wish you would’ve told me.”

He just looked at you with his eyes, so much behind them, left unsaid and filled to the brim with an unnamed emotion. A sad smile came to sit on his face.

“Did you have a favorite to play?” Jake asked, looking at him. 

“I did. I feel like all of us do.”

“Yeah. That’s the truth,” Jake grinned, nodding. “Do you still have your favorite one?”

“I sure do,” he looked at your roommate, a big grin spanning his usually-sunken cheeks. “I’ll show ya.”

Jake offered to go get it for him as he watched the old man try to stand. But when he was finally on his feet, he waved him off. 

“Nah, son. It’ll be good for me to get up and around to get her.”  

As he left to grab it, you waited for Jake to turn to you. But, he didn’t. 

Instead, he just looked at all of the photos on the walls rather than anywhere in your direction. The living room was so quiet, you literally heard every breath he took as he looked at the pictures of you and Elsie as children. 

You cleared your throat, trying to get a reaction from him.

He kept looking around the living room, not paying you any mind.

It was awkward.

Why was he avoiding looking at you? You weren’t used to him acting in such a way anymore. 

Unable to take it any longer, you cleared your throat again, harsher this time. 

But he still ignored it.

“Jake,” you sharply stated his name, irritation seeping through your tone at his behavior.

When he finally looked at you and you met his eyes, he looked distant. But after watching you for a long minute, his eyes started lightening a bit, seeming to come back to himself just a little. 

You tentatively grinned at him and shook your head. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly, your eyes searching his face. 

“Nothing,” he stated, his voice sounding far away, jaw clenching.

“Jake.”

He just ran a quick, stiff hand through his hair, looking ahead of him for a few seconds and then back at you. 

You didn’t tear your focus from him, trailing your eyes past his face and watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. 

When you looked back into his eyes, your heart beat rapidly as his eyes seemed to sink into your own. He was observing you so intently, your nerves sparking to life under his attention. You shivered a little under his stare. His gaze was dark, something hiding behind his amber-brown irises. 

You felt vulnerable and stark naked.

Instead of shying away, you kept your eyes on him. And the more you studied him—challenged him—an urge started creeping from below the surface. You watched him swivel further to face you.

You let your eyes drift again. Down his body, where his legs were spread. 

And just as you were about to take him somewhere private to talk, maybe even offer him a tour of your childhood bedroom. . .

Your Grandpa reappeared. Jake’s eyes quickly averted from yours, growing huge at the gorgeous white guitar your Grandfather had in tow. 

“A White Falcon?!” Jake asked in astonishment, his eyes growing bigger the closer it came. “Holy sh— wow.”

Your grandpa gave a belly laugh, handing this hidden, prized possession over to the long haired man. “You can say it, son. Holy shit is right. She’s a beauty.”

“A 1960. . .?”

“She’s a ‘67,” your Grandpa replied, admiring the nearly spotless guitar. The gold accents practically sparkled under the yellow glow of your Grandmother’s lamps. “A rare one.”

“You’ve got that right,” Jake said, inspecting the relic. “These are worth thousands these days. Especially in a condition like this,” he commented. “But I’m glad you kept it. I would have, too.”

Your Grandpa made his go-to clicking sound with his cheek. He seemed to be agreeing and disagreeing. (Normal behavior for the aging man.) “I debated getting rid of her a few times here and there. . .but ultimately, I decided she was far too precious to me for me to ever give her up.”

You couldn’t help but feel every single emotion you’d been (uselessly) working to bury, rise to the surface. He had you completely enraptured. . . he was driving you crazy.

Back to observing him and your Grandfather, you lost yourself in thought at the man in front of you. He’d done the impossible. Not only had he started cracking your hard shell, he’d brought out something you’d never seen in your Grandpa. He had helped you to discover this bright side of your Grandpa that you’d doubted for years even existed.

An easygoing, free-minded person that had apparently been lurking below the surface your entire life. 

But it made sense that Jake had been able to do it.

He really had done it for you, too. You’d trusted him with countless things. Your emotions. Your body. Your home. Your TV shows. Your cat.

Jake held the guitar so delicately. But his hands were simultaneously strong and purposeful, making sure to protect the guitar. It was so similar to how he handled you. 

The thought made your blood feel hot in your veins and your legs weak. You crossed your legs, watching his hands hold the keepsake just right. 

The rest of the words exchanged were technical terms about the original price, what it’s currently worth, how it played. . . 

But you weren’t really focused on all of the technicalities as you observed Jake’s fingers on the body of the guitar. How intensely he stared at the instrument as he kept steady conversation, his voice, deep and raspy. . .

You didn’t want to expose yourself with how entranced you were by him at that moment. 

So, you decided you needed to escape as soon as possible. 

“I’m going to search my room for something,” you said, glancing at Jake— who, yet again, wasn’t acknowledging you speaking. What the fuck? “I’ll be back shortly.”

Your Grandpa acknowledged you, giving a little wink before going back to his discussion with Jake.  

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d walked the couple of short hallways to get to your childhood bedroom, you sort of regretted using your bedroom as the excuse to get away.

You hesitated to open the door for a few long moments. 

You hadn’t been back to this room since that day in the car where Elsie had brought up the parts of your childhood that you’d forgotten. 

If you were being honest with yourself, it was intimidating to stand before the door as memories flooded back. 

There was the unnecessary screaming at your sister, coming back to you first. And as you thought back on that, you outwardly cringed at the words you now remembered saying to her. Terrible, hateful, completely untrue things. 

Then, you saw yourself throwing objects. Only ever at Elsie. With her being the person you felt safest with, naturally she was also the person punished most. In particular, a dent in the wall, adjacent to the door, reminded you of this. It was something that your grandparents and Elsie had always dismissed, saying it had ‘always been there.’ 

How in the hell had you blocked these things so intensely? Looking back on it now, it seemed as if those things had happened almost as soon as you’d moved in with your grandparents. 

To be fair, you had been very young and very recently grieved by the things which had occurred at your mother’s house.

Had it been a bad case of disassociation which had made you lose these fragments of time? 

Trauma-induced memory loss? 

Your childhood counselor had used the terms. You remembered that. 

Based on what you could vaguely rehash from those sessions, you probably had disassociated to protect yourself from the dark things. 

Disregarding what happened after moving to your grandparents’, there were several other things you literally couldn’t remember from your time with your mom. Distant flickers of barely-there echoes from a much darker, secret life. 

You were apparently an extreme pro at blocking out anything that may hurt you, and times with your mom and the things you’d done as a child were just that. 

Your eyes tracked the old wooden door, contemplating opening it when you saw the hole at the bottom of it. 

Another thing that had ‘always been there.’ But, right then and there, you could recollect the moment it happened. Clear as day. 

You’d been home alone with Elsie. Something had happened that had you screaming at her. Throwing things at her. Chasing her. If you were seeing the memory correctly, you had even managed to hit her with something. She’d gotten scared and the place she’d thought to run and hide had been your room. She’d been so stricken by the incident, sobbing for you to ‘stop, please!’ But you hadn’t listened. When she’d escaped behind the door, she shut it and locked you out. It had angered you more, making you release every last bit of bottled emotion with several hard kicks to the bottom of the door, resulting in the obscurity that now faced you, taunting you.

Then your grandparents had returned home, observed the incident, and decided that you both needed to immediately start counseling.

Without even realizing it, you were beginning to choke on dry sobs. Your breaths were becoming short and hard to catch. You couldn’t breathe. 

Your vision was fuzzy as you held to the door frame to balance yourself. But seeing it as pointless, your body going limp, your arms shaking, you slid down the wall to the floor. Putting a hand to your chest, you focused on taking deeper breaths, working to count each one you released. 

You pinched your eyes shut and tried to think of something to calm you down. 

Long hair that smelled like citrus. Smooth, tanned skin, glowing in the sun. A kiss underwater. A hand smoothing over your cheek, catching your tears. Soul-filled eyes, like dark whiskey, watching you closely and carefully. A body around yours, protecting you in the most quiet and intimate moments. The smell of sandalwood and amber.

But, right now, that smell was more present than it just being a figment of your imaginings. 

You slowly opened your eyes, still focusing on breathing, to find him right there, next to you. 

He was crouched down, a hand on the wall next to you, using his body as a shield around you. 

Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. It was like he knew you needed him.

“You were gone for a bit longer than what seemed normal,” he said, worry evident in his words. “What’s going on?”

Tears were escaping down your cheeks steadily. He took his flannel off, clad in a black t-shirt underneath, collar torn (on purpose?). Then, started dabbing at your cheeks for a few moments with his flannel. Once finished, he handed it to you, for you to wipe at your face with it. 

“Nothing's going on,” you gasped on a breath, almost bringing the flannel to your face when you stopped. “I don’t want to get it dirty with my makeup, Jake,” you gasped, still trying to calm yourself. But the relentless crying was making it near impossible. 

“I don’t care,” he went from crouching, to sitting against the wall, right beside you. His shoulder was a couple inches from touching your own. You caught yourself naturally leaning into it. “I want to help you. Let me.”

You didn’t say anything in response to that, letting the heartfelt words hang in the air around you two, laying your head on his shoulder. Bringing his flannel up to your face, you closed your eyes at the wonderful smell of him that lingered on the shirt and wiped your face with the plaid material.

Keeping your eyes closed, you used his steady breathing as an aid, trying to breathe in time with him. Anytime his shoulder would lift your cheek with a breath, you took one, too. It worked well, your chest feeling less tight, the tears subsiding. 

After a bit, you heard him speak again. His voice, causing a comforting rumble against your cheek. “What happened, honey?”

Honey. Your heart lurched in your chest at the name.

You slowly pried your eyes open again, focusing on the light beige of the walls and the way the textured paint on the wall made a sort of pattern.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. You feared bringing up the details of the way you used to behave. The idea of saying anything was embarrassing. It was daunting to think of exposing yourself like that. “Stuff from the past that’s embarrassing and awful.”

“Nothing you do is embarrassing.”

“Wrong.”

He snickered, placing a hand on your thigh. His trusty black hair-tie, wrapped around his middle finger. You traced the long digit, his knuckle, and then picked at the hair tie, pulling at it to see the skin beneath the band. 

Before you could do any more to his hand, he removed it from your leg. You watched, your head still leaning on his shoulder as he took the black rubber band off. Suddenly, you were moving from his shoulder as his body shifted. Peering up curiously, he motioned for you to turn your head. You did so, and within seconds, your hair was pulled up and away from your hot face. 

You looked over your shoulder at him, growing goosebumps as his fingers lingered on the skin of your neck. “Thank you.”

Situating yourself in your position from before, you decided on a whim to wrap your hand underneath his arm. You continued until you were lacing your fingers through his, his calloused fingertips wrapping around to rest on the top of your hand. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” he started, voice low, as if keeping a secret. “But I’m here. I need you to know that. Whatever the case may be, I am here for you.”

“Thanks,” you hummed, squeezing his hand. “Jake?”

“Hm?”

“How did things change between us?”

He chuckled. “Well, it started when you walked into my bedroom the night of—.”

You shushed him, not able to hide your light giggle as you used your other palm to hit his hard chest. How was he able to turn things around so quickly for you? Your body felt so light and airy now, calm and at peace. The foggy memories weren’t so scary when he was with you.

“I mean. . .how are we like this now? Cordial?”

“We started trusting each other, I guess,” he said, all joking gone from his tone. 

“Yeah. . .,” you agreed. “And as silly as it is, I think you were onto something with mentioning the first night we. . .”

“I don’t think it’s silly, honestly. . . If we are being honest with ourselves, sex changes everything,” he stated, his thumb tapping a light beat against your hand. He was right. It truly did change things. For good or for bad, you didn’t know. 

“And those Aretha Franklin songs the other morning. . .,” he pushed a breath from his lips to follow his words.

You gasped. “You felt it too?” Finally looking up from his shoulder, you ignored the voice that was telling you to not give into the moment as you turned to him. Because when you looked up at him, his dark brown eyes were familiar, honest, and real. You couldn’t help but let them be your safe place. That was what they’d become. 

It can’t be this way forever. Stop while you’re ahead, the voice warned. Stop giving in.

But you kindly told it to fuck off as you swam in his irises.

“It was impossible not to. The music and the moment. . . ,” he grinned, a dimple presenting itself in his cheek. Then he raised a brow, turning his head a bit, keeping his eye on you. “But, don't forget. We’re just roommates.”

You flushed. “I had to say that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hearing them from his mouth, you realized that your Grandpa had been right about your words being harsh. “Didn’t want anyone catching onto anything? I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes, but still there. His eyes traveled the walls around you. You could tell his mind was still looming on how he’d found you in the hallway, only minutes ago. 

The column of his neck hypnotized you, the muscles that flexed beneath the flesh so strong and sure. You were aching to put your lips on the skin, then his eyes found yours, caught you watching him, yet again. He lifted a brow, eyes flickering to your lips, staring at your mouth as you licked to wet them. 

When he bit his lip, it was over.

You couldn’t help it. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart was racing. . .

Without even worrying about getting caught, you angled yourself towards him until your lips met his in a kiss. You had to be near him. Needed to be closer, closer, closer. 

He gave it back, matching the force behind your kisses.

It continued like that for a few short moments, but right before you could slip your tongue between his lips, he placed a hand to your cheek, gentle as he held your face steady, pulling back to study your features.

He waited for you to speak. You both knew why he’d put a stop to it. 

And as if to drive the point home, Josh’s laugh echoed through the entire house— a blatant reminder of why you couldn’t do this here.

You looked down to see where he was situating himself in his black skinny jeans, your skin heating all the more. 

As much as you wanted to leave at that instant, you didn’t want to seem abrupt or strange by doing that. You knew it would be best to eat dessert and then leave. 

You tucked a couple of loose strands, having fallen from your makeshift ponytail, behind your ears. Then, you asked. “Wanna eat some pie and then get out of here?” 

“Sounds perfect.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Laying in his bed later that night, sweaty limbs pressed together and chests heaving, your head resting on his chest as he twirled fingers in your hair, now loose around your shoulders. . . You decided to tell him.

“Earlier tonight, when you found me,” you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for your next words. “I was trying to recover from a panic attack.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you said, pausing. As much as you wanted to look at him when you told him the next part, you decided it would be easier to keep your eyes on his SG, sitting on its stand across his bedroom. “I get them sometimes.”

“Why?” He asked, voice light and calm. 

“Different things. . . tonight, it was because I started having these extremely vivid flashbacks from my childhood.”

“About your mom?”

“Not necessarily— not this time,” you cleared your throat as tears pricked at your eyes. It hurt to think about the nasty, younger version of yourself. “This time, it was more about what I used to do when I was younger.” Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”

“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him. 

“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beating of his heart. 

“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”

This time, you were crying from his words and the way his skin felt against your own. He was your safety. He was here. He was real.

He was here to help. Let him.

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to settle your breaths, focusing on the way his heart beat rhythmically under your hand. 

So, you opened up. You told him about everything that Elsie had reminded you of that day in the car; told him what seeing the door had done to you – and everything that had reared its ugly head all at once tonight.

“Wow,” he let out a deep breath in response. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. I was such a fucking demon,” you muttered sadly, your heart breaking as the images and sounds were once again coming back. “And I can’t escape it.”

“Why can’t you?”

You wrinkled your brows, resituating to lean on your arm beside him. His eyes followed you, open and honest and Jake. “I caused severe trauma for others– just like my mom did. I made mistakes that I can never take back.”

“You said you were ten?” He asked. You nodded. “You were a child.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But you need to give yourself some grace.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re human.”

“But so were the people I hurt.”

“Who would you say you hurt most?”

“Els.”

“And has she forgiven you?”

“I think so,” you muttered, remembering Elsie that day in the car.

“I’ve moved on. Anytime you did any of that stuff, I moved on as soon as you’d done it.”

“You were in pain and somehow, I just knew it. . . I knew then it wouldn’t be fair for me to hold something against you that you probably didn’t mean. I knew the only reason you were acting that way was because someone else had hurt you. It wasn’t all your fault. It was mostly mom’s. You just didn’t know how to react to it.” 

“Then you need to forgive yourself,” he said, moving some tresses of hair behind your shoulders to be able to put an open palm to your chest, right where your heart laid beneath the flesh. “Your heart is beautiful. That’s what matters. Always has been, always will be,” he gave you one kiss, deep enough to emphasize the words. It left you dizzy as he went back to his spot, never letting his hand leave your chest. “I just want you to understand that people make mistakes,” he smiled, reassuring. “I’ve made a shit ton.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, both of you sharing a knowing laugh. 

“But," you started, feeling the need to encourage him as well. "That wasn’t you. You were hurting.”

“So were you, back then,” he reasoned, his voice soft. 

“I guess,” you relented slightly. “Elsie told me a lot of this, too, but I just couldn’t believe her. It’s hard to see the good in myself from back then, though, knowing all of the horrific things I did,” you stated simply. You held his hand to your chest as you laid on your back, not wanting him to move it. “I just can’t shake how I let myself forget it so easily. I’ve gone all these years not truly knowing who I was– who I am.”

“Have you ever considered going to therapy again?”

“No,” your heart beat faster at the prospect.

He could feel it, and reacted as such. He came closer to you, his chest and stomach pressing into you, more skin-to-skin to help calm you. “Would you consider it?”

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hand and his, still over your heart. “Depends, I guess.”

He hummed. “Okay,” he answered, relenting from the hard questions. “How about you work on forgiving yourself and I’ll look into different types of therapy? Let you know what I come across?”

Your heart slowed down, the tiniest smile lifting your lips. Your hand gripped his. Your anchor. Your safety. “Alright.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

A couple days later, you sat on your couch, mesmerized by Jake, who was sitting next to you. 

Well, kind of. He was on the cushion at the opposite end of the sofa as you. 

All you wanted was to be closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself.

These days, if he was close enough for you to touch him, you were going to be touching him. Whether it be rubbing his shoulders, playing with his continuously growing hair, or laying on top of him (sometimes naked, sometimes not).

But you were appreciating your vantage point tonight. Watching closely as he played through some new songs with Josh. Josh would sing, and Jake would play the same thing. Jake would play, then Josh would sing it verbatim. 

It was interesting to watch them, bouncing off of each other creatively like that. 

Twin telepathy at its finest.

You were stuck in a trance, trying your damnedest to give equal attention to Josh, so as not to raise any suspicion. But it was getting harder and harder to resist watching Jake– being near him, day by day. 

Trying to find other things to focus on, your eyes floated across the room, observing all of the men around you. They’d all been growing their hair out as well. And, normally, a guy growing his hair out was not a huge deal. 

But with these guys? It seemed to you, it was a visual for their changing life. The longer their hair got, the more it was obvious that they were moving onto a new stage of life.

They were becoming rockstars. Truly.

Not only were they making music day in and day out, playing it live every week, preparing for a humongous music festival that would feature many huge bands. . . they were looking more and more like it, too. 

But they were still your boys. 

Never changing.

Sam’s ever-nasally voice interrupted your rambling thoughts, as if on cue. You smiled in his direction, pointing your attention to him. 

“Jake,” he started, excited as he looked intently at his phone screen.

“What, Sam?” He responded with a slight growl to say his younger brother’s name. “Can’t you tell I’m creatively processing?”

Danny let out one loud laugh, his eyes sparkling with a laugh. Josh joined in momentarily, then went back to humming

“Oh, fuck off, Jake,” he rolled his eyes, a smile still adorning his baby face. He trotted his lanky legs over to the couch, sitting between you and your roommate. “Look at this picture of Maya,” he angled the phone so it was right in front of Jake, but turned just right so you couldn’t see it. 

You giggled at Jake having to pull away from the bright screen to get a better look. “God, Sam,” he said, annoyed, grabbing the phone out of Sam’s hand. “Turn your fucking brightness down.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Jacob,” he responded, flipping his hair and rolling his eyes. He turned in your direction for support, throwing a thumb behind him at Jake. “He’s annoying.”

You were still laughing as you asked your question. “Who’s Maya?”

“Jake hasn’t told you about Maya?!” He wondered aloud, his voice raising a decibel or two. 

“No, I haven’t, Sam,” Jake said, his tone clipped, holding the phone tighter in his firm grip, long fingers flexing around the device. “Shut the fuck up.”

Your brows drew in at his behavior. Now you were dying to know who Maya was and why he was suddenly acting so weird about her.

“I ask again, who is Maya?”

“She’s asking Jake,” Sam stated, as if he’d won. “I’m telling her.”

“Sam–.”

“Maya is Jake’s super hot client that he used to fuck. When he first moved here,” Sam clarified. “Still does, I think. I mean, who wouldn’t?!” Then he laughed, hitting Jake’s stiff arm with the back of his hand.

He was doing what, now? 

Chancing a look at the man in question, you noticed he was angry.

Seething was a better term. 

You could tell as he gripped the neck of his guitar, his chest rising with constricted breaths, nose flaring, staring at Josh, who was simply shaking his head in return. 

Sam took his phone from Jake’s hand, gaining it with some effort. But getting it in his grasp anyway. Right as he’d done so, the hand Jake’d been holding it in clenched to a fist, his jaw tightening. The hand on the neck became dangerously tight.

“Sammy. . .,” Josh tried intervening. His eyes jumped back and forth between each brother, desperate for there to be peace. 

Social cues apparently off, Sam was still smiling wide. 

“This is Maya,” he said, flashing the phone in front of your face, holding it there for you to get a good, long look. 

No. Couldn’t be.

The air left your chest, your vision zeroing in on the bright screen of the phone, everything else blurry around you as your head suddenly felt extremely light, body heavy. 

Surely not. . .

You squinted, taking a closer look at the phone before you jumped to any sort of conclusion. 

But the house behind her, as well as her long, dark black hair. . . 

You knew you were correct in your assumption of who it was. 

The joy that the youngest brother exuded was the exact opposite of how you were feeling. The giant stone that had fallen to sit at the bottom of your stomach was suddenly weighing you to the couch. 

You nodded at the screen, pushing the device away from you, hands shaking slightly. “You really do need to turn your brightness down, Sam,” you said, clearing your throat as it got painfully tight.

Play it cool, play it cool.

You were working so hard to hide your emotions. A small smile twitched at your lips. The tears in your throat made them wobble a tiny bit. 

Stop it, y/n.

Jake’s voice cut through, directly to your ears.  “It meant nothing—.” 

You didn’t look at him, only focusing back on Sam as he spoke. You tried hard to keep your eyes wide and clear of anything concerning.

“He still sees her for lessons,” he said, wiggling his brows. “What happens at guitar lessons, stays at guitar lessons,” he elbowed Jake’s arm, tense as the muscle in his bicep flexed, fist still bunched. “Am I right, brother?!”

Sam was the only one smiling in the room. 

The room was tense, Sam tucking his phone back into the pocket of his silky, vibrant button down. He pushed his sunglasses further into his hair.

You were frozen, not even daring to look up at Jake’s face. You studied your hands, then grabbed your phone off of the coffee table to pretend you were checking it. The frenzied emotions in your gut were not trustworthy. If you looked at him, you were sure you’d fall apart.

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like they’re still fucking, you tried to reassure yourself. Right?!

But then, you thought about him taking a while at her house. All of his excuses were adding up. 

Had three Ubers really canceled? Or had he just been too busy fucking her and lost track of time?

It made sense, considering the way she’d watched him leave. The hug. 

And what he’d said to her right before he got in the car. Talking about his ‘favorite part of his day’ . . . Fuck. Your chest hurt, the words making so much more sense now. . .

His favorite part of the day. . . 

Your vision got cloudy. What were you? Sad? Angry? Both? You couldn’t fucking tell.

You just needed to get out of the room. 

As you stood up from your spot, your legs wobbled a bit, your mind scrambling for the first excuse that could come to it. “I’ve gotta pee.”

Still not looking at Jake, you walked as fast as you could to the bathroom. 

The last thing you heard before shutting the door to the bathroom was Danny’s voice, trying to break the air-right atmosphere.

“How about dinner?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: uh oh. . .

alsoooo, you'll notice that we haven't even gotten to the scene from the sneak peek yet. . . all of that will come to you in part 2. . . see you again soon, loves ;)

send in your thoughts!! i love hearing from you <3

thank you for being the best readers in the world!!! love you all so much!

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

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[moonisthedoor]

ok here's the deal. i post this on here and then maybe i'll crosspost it to ao3 but this was actually originally posted on ao3 in 2022 i just deleted it after like 12 hours for no reason. but anyway

rated T for swearing, No Entities AU wth questionable timeline, GerryMichael <3

The bag hits the floor with a dull thump, and Gerry briefly considers joining it there before thinking better of it. With a heavy sigh, he closes a door behind himself and just stands in the hallway for a moment, his eyes half-closed. God, he’s a mess.

He takes off his headphones first; they’re big and thick-padded, chosen specifically to block out as much sound as possible even when he’s not playing music because otherwise public transport would be impossible to bear. Right now, though, in the quiet of his own apartment, they feel too obstructive and heavy on his head. 

The next thing he does is take the elastic out of his hair, hissing quietly as the pressure on his scalp lets up. He put it in a tight bun when leaving work so there’s less chance of it getting stuck somewhere – there were incidents – and he’s pretty sure that before that he’s been wearing it in a ponytail since probably lunch, so. Not good. Better now, but he knows it’ll take a bit for the headache to subside.

He lets out a quiet string of curses as he leans down to unlace his boots; he found that for some reason swearing helps with the stress and the various aches in his body and since there’s no one around, he doesn’t feel embarrassed about whispering “fucking hell” to himself at a particularly stubborn knot.

Well, almost no one.

“Rough day?” Michael asks softly, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Gerry finally manages to take his boots off and straightens up to look at his wonderful and very pretty boyfriend who works a normal 9-to-5 job and has probably been waiting for him for…

“What time is it?” he asks and cringes at the way his voice sounds.

“Half past eight.”

“Shit.” For the millionth time in his life, Gerry seriously contemplates quitting. 

Michael winces in sympathy and takes a step closer.

“You want a hug?” he asks, opening his arms. Gerry falls into him instead of answering, still in his coat, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder. Michael pets his hair softly. “Let me guess: Elias was a bitch again?”

“Mhmm.”

“And then one of the statement givers said something that reminded you of another bad memory and you were already not feeling great?”

“Eurgh.”

“And you didn’t mean to be so passive aggressive to them because it’s not their fault and now you feel bad but also fuck them all and at least it’s Friday today so you don’t have to go back to work tomorrow?”

“You know me so well,” Gerry sighs into Michael’s shirt. He feels his smile even without looking up.

“Come on,” Michael says, gently coaxing him back up. “Take your coat off and then we can eat and you can bitch about work.”

“Mm. We have food?”

“I made pasta.”

“I love you,” Gerry says, putting his coat on the coat hanger. “There’s ice cream in the bag.”

“Oh?” Michael perks up. “Did you –”

“Yes, I got mint chocolate for you. Though I still think it tastes like toothpaste.”

“Maybe you should stop eating toothpaste then, dear,” Michael sing-songs, picking up the bag and waltzing back into the kitchen.

“Fuck you,” Gerry calls after him but he’s smiling as he heads into the bedroom.

He changes quickly; briefly considers keeping his binder on but by this point he knows pain would bother him more than anything else tonight. He usually wears oversized clothes at home anyways – and besides, it’s only him and Michael here. It’s alright.

There’s a bowl of pasta on the table in the living room when Gerry returns, and Michael’s already cross-legged on the couch with another one in his lap, flipping through the channels on TV. It’s so domestic Gerry has to stop and take in the sight for a moment. 

Something inside of him aches – but it’s a good ache.

“What’s the matter?” Michael asks, looking away from the TV. Gerry shakes his head:

“Nothing. Just… admiring the view.”

He’ll never get tired of seeing Michael blush.

“Oh, shush, you. Get over here and eat before the food gets cold.”

Gerry finishes his pasta surprisingly quickly; honestly, he hadn’t even thought he was that hungry but then again, the last time he ate was lunch and that was six hours ago. This is his third meal of the day, though, so Gerry mentally counts it as a win.

“More?” Michael asks when he sets his now-empty bowl back down.

“Maybe later,” Gerry says. He waits until Michael finishes his own food and then, with both bowls safely on the table, flops down into Michael’s lap face-first. Michael giggles, startled.

“I need to wash the dishes,” he says. “And we still have the ice cream.”

“Later,” Gerry repeats, turning on his side so he can see the TV better. Michael laughs again but doesn’t protest, his hands moving to slowly card through Gerry’s hair. 

“Okay?” he asks.

In two days, Gerry thinks, he’ll have to go back to work, and suffer through annoying statement givers again, and try his best not to strangle Elias. But there’s a weekend ahead of him, a whole forty-eight hours when he has full right not to do anything except hold his boyfriend close and watch mediocre shows on Netflix and order takeout. 

And maybe all of his problems won’t magically go away by Monday even if he desperately wishes they would. But it’ll still be enough to get him through another week.

“‘s perfect,” he mumbles, looking up at Michael and smiling.

Michael beams back. 

Yeah. It’s enough.

[sublieu]

𝙎𝙢𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙮

✖- this is a continuation of my previous smutty friday fic. For more context I suggest reading it first. - 【sublieu】

wc - 1.0k words

cw - Interspecies, biting, overstim, marking, [semi] ABO dynamics, humping, unprotected seggs, blood [mentioned], [semi?] dirty talk, begging [mentioned]

ref - ⚉ ⚆ ⚇

moots - @yellowaxol @mortal-mayhem @zmzsnakes

music - Get You/ Daniel Caesar, Kali Uchis

copyright: "All quotes, wording and editing belong to ©sublieu 2022; Do not attempt to claim, steal or copy this post as your own"

"They're not gonna believe me after this" He groans and starts his car before driving off. He may have to come over sometime...Probably every other day.

And so he did, every other day or when he's not busy he comes around. Which was typically every few weeks rather than days, but you were happy that he came back after that incident. From watching you create helper bots to huddling with you to watch tv, things were going great.

Until it came again, a few days before you expected time and whilst Redson was still here. You hid away from him for days until he forced himself into entering your home, not really knowing what he's putting himself into until he caught whiff of your sugary sweet smell and putting two and two together before you could attack him again; Holding you back and keeping his eyes closed as he tries to reason with you to no avail.

Your tail slowly starts to wrap around his legs as you gained more strength until he forces your head upwards and bites on your neck in a quick maneuver. Making you stop in your tracks and go limp the rougher he bites on your neck as his teeth were right near your scent gland and lie down on his shoulder as your tail rattled, His clothes were slightly tatter but he could fix it back anytime.

The way how he stares away and tries to process what exactly was happening he heard you start purring and huddling closer to him, still in your dazed trance to be bred as your hands started taking off his clothes.

"Hey easy now, remember I'm unprotected." "I don't care~"

You purr against his neck as your tongue trailed up to his ear before kissing it, gently pulling him down to your carpet as he grabs your butt. Leaving kiss marks and hickeys all the way to his chest, giggling when he lifts your shirt up to touch your boobs; His hands trailing ever so closely to your pussy.

Until he stands up with you in hand and lifts you up, his pressing in between your legs and pressing right on your clit, moaning about how warm and slick it feels from just the outside alone. So desperate to put it in, but refusing out of fear that you could be pregnant, his hip thrusting in between your warm, squishy legs; Wrapping your arms around his neck to support yourself.

"There we go, see was this so hard hm?" He whispers to you, if only you had legs you would've collapsed already from just his dirty talk alone. Trailing his hands down your body, whispering how he loves every part and curve on your body, from your stretchmarks to your face; It was as if the world stopped and it was just you and him, alone and enamored with each other.

You couldn't help but whimper and beg 'please', 'I need this please Redson', but he only coos you down and hushes you quietly by rubbing faster, giving you the feeling you so desperately wanted and thanking him as your tail rattled happily against his leg. Thanking him by kissing him even deeper.

He couldn't help but chuckle in the kiss the longer it got, to the point where your hands couldn't detangle from his hair as wet, sloppy kisses left a drooling mess on your chest. Now sitting you down on your coffee table and putting your tail over his shoulder as he rubs even harder, His hair acting as a curtain and covering you as you held onto anything close by. His rubbing feeling too good to even register it as fucking as a tear slipped from your eyes; Your hands now wrapping around his neck again as you shared a final kiss before cumming on his cock. Your juices coating and leaking your back and onto the table.

But he doesn't stop, if anything he goes even faster and coaxing you to cum even more whilst being extremely sensitive. You nails digging into his back to the point where it was bleeding, but he couldn't care as he was trying to cum himself; Putting a leg up on your coffee table and near your chest, his cock throbbing harshly at the speed he was going.

His har lit aflame and his leg pressing so hard against the table you could heard the wood breaking. But you didn't care, not when you wanted another release. Your eyes starting the change color into a drippy, hazy effect as your mind was starting to fog.

Till he finally cums, most of it landing on your stomach and just a little under your breasts as you came again and sunk your nails deeper inside his back as you came again before slowly going to sleep. Your hands going limp as he lifts you off the table right when it broke.

"Well damn." He mutters and hears his phone ringing and looks on the caller id to identify who it was. Groaning when he saw Mei's face pop up on the scree and putting you down on the couch before answering.

"WHERE ARE YOU?! WE HAVE ANOTHER SITUATION WITH THE PI-HEY PUT IT BACK!"

She starts and cusses off the random monster touching her stuff. He scratches he head and shows her the marks on his neck to explain better. Not wanting to explain through his lips.

"Damn she did a number on you! anyways are you free now or nah cus we can call up Wukong to help?"

"Yea I'm kinda busy at the moment, I'll come over when I'm done" "Aight hurry up! I need my belt for this thing." She hangs up and he pretty much imagines what she'll be doing with her belt and cringing out how much pain the thing'll be in. Looking back and carrying you to your bed and cleaning you up before putting you to rest and lighting a cig. Trying so hard to ignore the extreme pain his back was in.

©sublieu 2022; All Rights Reserved

[suterbuyout2024]

🥰 or 😭 or 😵‍💫 <33333

woe! timbrady be upon ye. this is from a teenage runaway thing i was working on a couple years ago that i'd really love to revisit but unfortunately sort of left my brain in 2022 :/

It’s a nothing night, some random house show with a no-name high school band that was put on by a friend of a friend of a friend who Josh is maybe trying to fuck. Tim agreed to go because he’s seventy percent of Josh’s impulse control, and because if he didn’t, he’d be spending his Friday night fruitlessly dialing Shane for calc answers.

But it’s been an hour and the band’s just started their set, finally, now that everyone’s high enough that the singer’s whispery excuse for vocals sound revelatory instead of shitty. Josh disappeared half an hour ago with the girl, the friend’s friend’s friend, and Tim is standing sort of toward the edge of the crowd, largely uninterested in showing up to practice tomorrow with a bunch of extra bruises from the mosh pit.

He shoves the last of his gas station bag of Ruffles in his mouth, and he pulls out his phone. His messages are barren, Josh having ignored the rosy-cheeked emoji Tim shot him about ten minutes after he vanished. Besides that, the last thing Tim sent anyone was the house’s address, which has likewise gone unanswered. Tim flicks his phone off and slips it back in his pocket, frowning lightly. Pulls it out again unconsciously and feels the crease between his eyebrows deepen when the lock screen still comes up empty.

It’s not like he’d owed a response, obviously, but Tim’s not used to being ignored. For a moment he debates the merits of stepping outside just to leave a voicemail, but he wouldn’t be able to get back inside. Josh got them in the first time, and Tim’s pretty sure plus-ones don’t get priority re-entry.

He’s pulled the thread back up to double-text, because fuck it, honestly, he’s too bored and a little wasted for this, and anyway he has a faint headache coming on, when a voice says, too loud and too close to his ear, “Someone keeping you waiting?”

Tim bites down on a ridiculous grin. “Just this guy. Said he’d meet me here but he’s running late.”

Hands settle on his hips briefly before lifting up and away, rubbing over Tim’s upper arms. “Well that’s rude of him.” Tim can hear his smile. “What an idiot, bailing on a guy like you.”

“Oh yeah? A guy like me, huh?” Tim gives it another second for the incredulous laughter to bubble up, and then he spins around. He is sure his face is ridiculous. He’s smiling incandescently and his cheeks are flushed from the crowd and it’s so good to see Brady that he can barely remember to breathe. “Hey there.”

Brady’s smiling a little dumb and open-mouthed. His eyes are clear. He must have driven here from his parents’ house. “Hey. Sorry about that. Dinner ran late.”

Tim shrugs. His headache’s completely cleared up now and everything. “Just glad you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” Brady says, drawing it out a little and looking around. “This is kinda ass, isn’t it?”

Tim shrugs again. He’s feeling very magnanimous. “You’re just too sober to appreciate it.”

“Don’t actually know if that makes it better.” Brady doesn’t wait for an answer, and Tim doesn’t really want to give one anyway. He’s not sure why he’s defending it. He’s only here for Josh, and it’s not like Josh is around to hear them talking, now. But Brady — and this is why Brady is the best, why Tim texted him to come along instead of Shane or Jacob or, god forbid, Drake — Brady leans in close and breathes hot into Tim’s ear. “You wanna get out of here?” He puts on an affect so it’s a joke.

Tim swallows. His face hurts from smiling. “Where are you gonna take me?”

“Dunno.” Brady’s hands are back on his hips. “I know this real nice place near here, great food, sit-down service.”

“Sounds fancy,” Tim hedges.

“Well,” says Brady. He pulls back so they’re a normal distance apart. A safe distance. “Worth it, for a guy like you.”

[masschase]

M-A-T-T-M-I-L-L-E-R

I finally commissioned @whoredmode 😊

There was a stunned silence, his eyes searching her as if he was still trying to process. She gave him a hopeful smile. God, if he somehow rejected her after all of this, she was going to run straight into the simulation and shoot everything up for a month.

I just can't stop staring at it. This is exactly how I pictured this moment in my head. Amazing job, thank you so much Ted.

Full context and excerpt below. But TLDR... Casey decided to give an a more accurate answer to Matt and Shaundi's questions at the start of GOOH.

To set the context, after the whole Matt-getting-shot-love confession thing(I wrote about that in an ask answer here), Asha appears in 2016 after Casey in 2022 remembers and sends her(though not before having to be physically restrained from going to rescue him herself and risking erasure from existence), and manages to jump Matt back to the ship in time for the Zin to treat him.

They put him in a medically induced coma which is supposed to last up to 48 hours but ends up roughly double that as Zin estimates for that kind of thing tend to be off. But (once she's gone after the perpetrator, who unfortunately gets away for now due to her heel snapping at an inoppurtune moment) she barely leaves his side until he wakes.

When he does though, after they talk for a while she asks if they want to go back to "what we were doin' in 2016" and he looks like he's struggling with it but turns her down, saying he can't go through that again and that their friendship is too important to him. This throws her. She's crushed and leaves in rather a hurry.

When she relays this conversation later, Asha points out she made it sound like she was interested in another "sex only" arrangement, and that if she really wants to be with Matt she's going to have to make a very clear statement that she's looking for an actual relationship. Possibly even be romantic. Johnny, having talked to Matt after Casey did, is pretty mad at her for not just telling him how she feels when she knows he loves her.

Jane helps her talk through things and when she admits that she's not surw which version of her Matt's love confession relates to, even though she knows it makes no sense for it to be the younger her. She told Jane her feelings for Matt must have started to develop since she came back from hell; with her making Matt her lieutenant and the two of them spending more time together. Jane tells her she believes Matt has had some form of attachment to her since at least that time, because of the question he asked the Ouija board at Kinzie's party.

From that comes her idea. That, and the candles she happened to think he looked so beautiful in two weeks ago when they were cuddled up together during a powercut. She also makes pecan pie because she found out in 2016 it was his favorite, and it's the only thing she can cook, and sets Last Dance to come on at precisely 8pm. She is throwing everything at the wall here.

So it's no surprise that around 7.45, Ms. "I-don't-get-nervous" finds herself waiting by the couch they spend every Friday night on, growing incredibly nervous.

God she hoped he was going to show up. He’d better fucking show up. She shouldn’t have come down here so early. She was fucking pacing. Maybe she should’ve worn something sexy, not her usual spacesuit. Maybe she should have gotten some booze to loosen them both up first. She couldn’t do this. No, she could. She had to. Ugh it was all stupid. No it wasn’t. He’d love it. He’d turn her down again. FUCK. She took a second to try and stop overthinking and just breathe. When she opened her eyes, he was just coming around the corner, hands awkwardly tucked behind his back much as hers were. “Hey!” she greeted. “Alright?” he replied, smiling, then stopped in his tracks. “Bloody hell, that’s a lot of candles.” She nodded. “Yeah, kinda.” She had dotted them all around the couch. At least three times as many as when they’d cuddled up together there two weeks ago. Thank god they were flameless; she could barely be trusted with fire inside the simulation, let alone outside of it. Looking around her reminded her she had gone too far to turn back. Looking at his beautiful face in the candlelight reminded her that she didn’t want to. “Are we... expecting another power cut?” “Uh... no... uh... hey, are you... feeling ok?” she checked. “Should you be standing?” “Actually it feels nice to stand for a sec. And the Zin physio is fantastic.” “Lucky you.” she commented, remembering her own unpleasant post-coma recovery. “Oh I... I didn’t mean to be insensitive.” “No... it’s OK...”. She smiled. “I’m... I’m glad they were able to fix you up so fast.” “Yeah.” he said, sounding unusually awkward. “I um... I didn’t see you at dinner.” “Oh...” she replied. “Yeah.”. It was true, she'd been so preoccupied by what she was doing that she hadn't eaten since Shaundi had brought her lunch to Matt’s bedside. Actually she’d barely eaten anything for the past few days. “It’s OK.” “Oh... well... I um... I got you something.” She looked at him, intrigued. He was kind of making her more nervous here by making him wait but she’d be damned if she ruined it. He smiled and pulled out a Freckle Bitch’s bag. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to, though.” “Matty, that’s so sweet!” she exclaimed, a smile lighting up her own face too. “You’re... you’re always so nice to me.” “And um...” he said awkwardly. “I... wanted to thank you for... everything you've done and you said no-one had ever really bought you flowers before so um...” he pulled out a small bouquet of white roses. “They um... reminded me of your hair and...” he glanced down at them. “I don’t know.” He’d bought her food and flowers. The most ridiculous grin spread over her face. It took all her strength not to run across the room and kiss him. But she was in the middle of something, so instead she lingered awkwardly. “So, Nyte Blayde?” he checked, taking a step towards her. “I’m guessing you only watched one last week so we’re on-“ “One second.” she blurted out, interrupting him and halting his advance across the room. He frowned ever so slightly. “Everything alright?” “Yeah, I uh... just want to talk to you about somethin’.” “Oh... ok?” “Uh...” she gave him a nervous smile. “Matty, you uh... you remember that Ouija board you brought to Kinzie's party?” she asked gently. “Um... the one that led to you being dragged into a massive portal into Hell?” he replied, grimacing. “Hard to forget something like that.” “Yeah... that one.” she confirmed. “Do you remember... how all that shit happened?” “Um... I think so...”. He stared at her, obviously trying to work out her intentions. “Are you about to finally make me take the blame?” She laughed a little. “No. Just wondering if you still remember what you asked it.” “Oh... um... yeah.” he said, looking confused. “I asked um... “Will the President slash God-Emperor-for-life, ever choose a partner to reign alongside them?””

She hesitated. Was she really going to do this? This was fucking lame. But she'd made the damn thing now. She pulled out the shitty fake Ouija board she’d drawn on a piece of card, and the bracelet Johnny had leant her. She held it up for him to read, and slid the bracelet to ‘Yes.’. His face turned from slight confusion to utter bemusement. “And then you said...”. She rolled her eyes as she continued, imitating his sing-song tone. “Someone’s gettin' married!” “Right.” he laughed, looking embarrassed. “And you said “Shut up Matt.”” “Can you blame me?” she asked with a smile. And then uh... Shaundi said... uh...” They both paused for a second, thinking. “She asked it... um...” Matt said nervously, then looked her straight in the eyes. “Who will... tame the Emperor’s... wild heart?” She paused, staring back at him. She angled the board a little so she could see what she was doing, and slid the bracelet across it to spell “M-A-T-T-M-I-L-L-E-R.”. There was a stunned silence, his eyes searching her as if he was still trying to process. She gave him a hopeful smile. God, if he somehow rejected her after all of this, she was going to run straight into the simulation and shoot everything up for a month. “I just want to check this means... what I think it means?” he asked, sounding apprehensive. “I wanna be with you, Matt. More than anything.” she admitted. “If you want somethin’... like... a real... relationship... y’know... whatever that... would be...” she added in a mumble. He seemed to freeze up completely at that, his eyes wide, his mouth a little open. She wanted to beg him to say something, anything, but the silence forced her to continue. “And look... I uh...” she sighed. “I'm never gonna be able to give you the romance you deserve because I’m shit at talkin’ about my feelings and... I know I’m thirty-one now, and I’m kinda an asshole, and I’m sure not as cool as I used to be but y’know, I really think-“ She was interrupted as he walked straight up to her, threw his arms around her and kissed her passionately, dropping both the bag and the roses onto the couch behind her. She brought both arms up around his neck as she returned the kiss, the badly homemade Ouija board crumpling and falling and the bracelet clattering to the floor. It had been so long since she’d felt him kiss her like this. Like he fucking adored her.

(Which is the moment I drew here.)

Thanks to some creative use of Casey's obsession with Jane Austen on Matt's part, she was able to overcome her issues and confess her love for him that night, too.

Of course, the Freckle Bitch's was ruined after being dropped so suddenly, and the roses got left on the couch overnight.

But unsurprisingly, neither of them gave a shit about that.

[teenytinycoffeebean]

I Am On A Journey to Watch AS MANY Films with Crispin Hellion Glover in Them As Possible

I will do my best to watch the films/shows and give a high-level view of my thoughts on each. 

I will continue to do this until I watch all of the films I have on my list (the list will be added to this post as well as updated throughout). 

I am playing catch-up compared to my other social media accounts but, to be honest, Tumblr is perfect for this kind of thing. 

So... Buckle up because this is going to be a LONG ride. (: 

First, I’d like to personally thank Crispin Glover for all the fantastic performances and artworks he’s created over the years. His approach to acting is beautifully unique, and every single one of his performances are memorable. Though I haven’t had the pleasure of viewing his own films, I’ve at least seen some of his artwork through the books he publishes. Now that I’ve found myself down a rabbit hole of sorts, not just watching these movies but also listening to all kinds of interviews and such, I am a huge admirer of the way he approaches what he does and creates. 

TL;DR: I’ve found boundless inspiration and joy from observing both his craft and his art. So, for that and for a lot more I’m struggling to put into words because they are genuinely such big emotions, thank you! 

Ok, let’s get into it. 

Although this is not the original list from when I started the journey (this project began in early December 2022--today is January 1, 2023), here is the list I am using to track, plus where to watch the films. Note that some of these are me rewatching them--like Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter and Alice in Wonderland--but I will note those as I go.

Crispin Glover's Filmography Watchlist

Note: this is not his full filmography (and does not include his personal films--though I aspire to see those as soon as I can) however it is a list of the films I aim to watch and potentially own.

Watched (in order of coverage):

Friday the 13th The Final Chapter (DVD - owned)

Back to the Future (Peacock)

Bartleby (DVD - owned)

Wizard of Gore (Tubi)

Willard (DVD - owned)

Twister [1989] (Amazon Prime)

We Have Always Lived in the Castle (DVD - owned)

Lucky Day (Amazon Prime)

Guillermo del Toro's Cabinet of Curiosities (Netflix)

Drop Dead Sexy (Tubi)

The Donner Party (Tubi)

Like Mike (Tubi)

Aimy in a Cage (Tubi)

River’s Edge (DVD - owned)

Crime and Punishment (Tubi)

Charlie's Angels (DVD - owned)

Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle (DVD - owned)

Rubin & Ed (DVD - owned)

Simon Says (DVD - owned)

Hot Tub Time Machine (HBO Max)

Freaky Deaky (Tubi)

The People vs. Larry Flynt (Hulu)

Mr. Nice (Tubi)

At Close Range (HBO Max)

What's Eating Gilbert Grape (HBO Max)

Epic Movie (Hulu)

Wild at Heart (DVD - owned)

Alice in Wonderland (Disney+)

Watching:

American Gods (DVD - owned)

To watch:

Little Noises (DVD - owned)

Teachers (DVD)

The Doors (DVD)

Fast Sofa (YouTube/DVD)

Beowulf (Pluto)

The Incident at Loch Ness (Amazon Prime)

Smiley Face Killers (Amazon Prime)

The Bag Man (Amazon Prime)

Hotel Room - Episode: "Blackout" (YouTube)

The Orkly Kid (?)

Where the Heart Is (?)

Why am I doing this? Because I want to!

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To kick things off, and in the order in which I cover this journey on other social media platforms, a rewatch of one of my favorite slasher flicks was in order. Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter (1984)! 

If you remember this movie at all, which you should because it is the 2nd best film in the franchise, you may recall the awkward kid who kept talking about being horny, obsessed over his friend calling him a "dead fuck," and danced real wacky in that one scene. Ya know, Jimmy “Jimbo” Mortimer. Yes! That one! That was Crispin Glover alright. 

Though the role is small, his performance in this is just exactly what I’ve come to expect from most, if not all, of Crispin’s performances: oh so memorable. 

I love this performance a lot. Even before I was aware of Crispin Glover, I was enamored with just how strange the character was and how that differed from a lot of the other performances in the Friday the 13th franchise. 

A bit of a fun fact: Crispin has talked about that dance he does and mentions that the song that was played on set during filming was not what ended up being used in the final product of that scene. Apparently, the song used for filming was AC/DC’s “Back in Black.” Cool folks on the internet have attempt to show that off so check this shit out: 

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As part of a double feature with Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter, I watched Back to the Future (1985) for the first time. Yes, the first time. I know how shameful for a 28-year-old such as myself. 

I genuinely felt that the best descriptor for the film was "cute". It was cute! It’s one of those movies that I felt like I had really already seen due to how references to it have permeated our culture. 

I can understand why the film is a classic. The way Crispin plays George McFly makes him an incredibly endearing character. I loved the “George-isms” that Crispin created, that carry over from old George to young George. It’s excellent work.

I think Back to the Future is talked about too much, in all honesty, and especially with the whole lawsuit and incredibly harmful shit that happened to Crispin with Back to the Future II, a movie which I straight up refuse to see. 

But yeah, all that aside, Back to the Future was cute and a fun time. 

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Shout out to the free streaming service Tubi, which has been incredible kind to me and provided SO many of the films on my list. 

One of those films is Bartleby (2001). Bartleby is a surrealist, sit-com-style office comedy film adaptation of Herman Melville's short story "Bartleby, the Scrivener". Crispin plays Bartleby, and genuinely ends up having few lines except for, of course, “I would prefer not to” or some iteration of that. 

This film ended up being Supremely My Shit in terms of what I look for in a comedy. 

I LOVED this movie, so much so that I now own it on DVD and plan to show it to everyone. I cannot recommend it enough. 

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Next up, Wizard of Gore (2007). A splatter/noir horror film. This is a remake of the 1970 film of the same name. 

I will say that this film, overall, wasn’t that great. It has some highlights though! For instance, Crispin hams it up as a wacko magician who has an outrageously huge codpiece. And, oh hey! Brad Dourif and Jeffrey Combs are in it! 

As I’ve sat with this one, it’s one where I can say the performance that Crispin gives is the real draw here. He’s absolutely perfect for something so strange and unusual as this. 

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Now, I should back up and take some time to talk about Willard (2003). I have a lot of thoughts, as well as some fun facts. 

This remake of a 1971 film of the same name, which in turn was based off of the Stephen Gilbert novel Ratman’s Notebooks, is a standout so far for the films I've seen Crispin Glover in. I knew going into viewing it that it was well regarded in his filmography. I can understand why! It's incredible. 

It is a horror movie but not in the way that is typical. To me, the horror lies in the treatment of Willard, particularly in the workplace. And then, of course, later the horror continues but more in the form of self-inflicted acclimation of choices made by Willard (if only he were nicer to Ben! Oh, things would’ve been different). I do believe reading the rats as a force of nature as an element of horror is pretty accurate.

Though the part that make this film an instant comfort movie for me/a film that immediately went on my "get to know me movies list" is Crispin's performance and the framing of Willard's abuse in the workplace. I have some pretty bad workplace-related trauma from sustained abuse by past and previous employers. I have to admit to feeling some level of catharsis in relating to the Willard character, as well as viewing him as a kind of hero despite serious pitfalls and gruesome mistakes throughout, including a variety of self-inflicted repression of emotion and being (also I'd say the character is neurodivergent-coded, and thats highly relatable to me). I also think that [spoilers] when he kills his boss with a horde of rats--not for himself, entirely, but for Socrates--I felt that in my core like, yes, it's so much harder to stand up for yourself, even if you can't take more abuse, but it's easier when you have something rally behind or protect or avenge, in this situation. Am I thinking too hard about the contents of a 2003 horror movie? Probably. 

Anyway. The rats are awesome in this film too, as is the performance of R. Lee Ermey. I wish New Line Cinemas let the film be rated R. I feel like more gore and Ermey riffing off strings of cursing would've been nice. Apparently, there was an R-rated version but it is lost now. I've been able to view some of the deleted scenes and I can see where an R-rated version could have been. 

A great aspect of promotional materials for Willard was that Crispin Glover recorded a cover of Michael Jackson's "Ben" (yes, it's about the rat). It's my understanding the original song was recorded for the 1973 sequel to Willard, also titled Ben. Anyway, the music video for Glover's take on "Ben" was also directed by him. It's an absolute treat. Check it out: 

While I have you here, I'd like to let you know that the opening credits of Willard feature imagery from Glover's own published book -- Rat Catching. Rat Catching, published in 1988, is a heavily illustrated piece of visual and textural art built from the 1896 book Studies in the Art of Rat Catching.

Crispin has published other works similar to Rat Catching: Oak Mot (1989), Concrete Inspection (1990), What it is, and How it is Done (1992), and Round My House (2016). In each he rearranges text, blacks out certain standing passages (a la blackout poetry), and adds his own prose and occasionally images into the margins and elsewhere, thus creating an entirely new story. Plus, as is my understanding, a visual feast for the eyes. 

GUESS WHAT THE COOLEST PART ABOUT THESE BOOKS ARE?! You can get em directly from the guy himself! Literally. You can chuck $30-ish + shipping at him directly (metaphorically, of course) and you'll get a book. 

I fully intend to get my hands on at least a few of them... or all of them, ya know, casually. If you also think these books sound rad as fuck, here's the website: crispinglover.com. Do it. Go get an awesome book created by an awesome artist. It's cool to do. 

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On my TV back a few weeks ago was Twister (1989). 

From what I had previously read about the film, it billed as a comedy but in actuality it is more drama. It is an adaptation of the the novel Oh by Mary Robison. 

The film features music by Hans Zimmer, a cameo by William S. Burroughs, and, of course, a late 80s Crispin Glover doing his weird lil thing that I love oh so much. It was... bizarre!! 

I can’t really say if it is good or bad--it just is. I can’t even say if the ending is good or bad, it simply is what it is. Having sat with it for a while, I can appreciate Twister for eliciting emotion. I was pretty fed up with some of the character and confused at their motivations but at least it got me thinking about what was happening and asking the question “what are they doing and why?” That’s important in its own right. 

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Let me just say, I was VERY excited to watch We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2018). I am a huge fan of the original novel, which I read when I was much younger. I remember starting to watch this film when it came to Netflix in 2019 but failing to finish it due to life events (I think we were moving), but I can say now that I have finished watching it! 

I am happy to report that We Have Always Lived in the Castle is a fairly faithful adaptation of the novel, give or take, and was really enjoyable to see. I feel like it is a hard novel to adapt since Merricat is an unreliable narrator and it is all told from her perspective, but I think this film does a solid job illustrating that. 

I'm generally very pleased with the framing of the characters in the adaptation and the performances are great. I don't think anyone else could do Charles except for Sebastian Stan. He's so good at playing a total dick.

On that note, I don't think anyone else could've played Julian Blackwood like Crispin Glover. Comparing to the novel, I had no idea how to really imagine Julian in a lot of instances but seeing this character performed in this way makes SO much more sense to me. Incredible work.

I could probably go on, but I highly recommend checking it out for yourself, especially if you're a fan of the novel! 

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Ohhh Lucky Day (2019)! It was AWESOME. Though, I didn’t keep enough detailed thoughts about it so I apologize for a short and sweet overview of some highlights. 

I swear to god this film must've flown under the radar when it came out because I hadn't heard of it until recently (but I distinctly remember seeing showtimes for it back when it came out). 

It was a damn good time. Crispin plays a contract killer of sorts who has the most over-the-top French accent (despite not being French at all) and every scene he's in is golden. His serious demeanor for some of the more ridiculous scenes just works and brought a big stupid grin to my face.  

I’ve seen this film twice now it’s just a masterfully done action/comedy/drama--and yes, it really does blend the genres so well. 

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Before I take a break from letting this live in my drafts, I want to talk about a big one for me: Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities, Episode 5: “Pickman's Model”. The one that started this journey. And I know, I'm so utterly late to the party! I live in my own lil horror-themed film bubble most of the time until I find some performances I enjoy and really gnaw on, for lack of a better word. So this kicked it off entirely.

The whole show is a standout for me. I enjoyed every single episode and every story. I think the most technically scary was “Lot 36″ and the most relatable to me in the way it is framed is “The Outside”. Upon my first watch of the show, I just knew I'd be head over heels for the “Pickman’s Model” retelling. It's my favorite Lovecraft story, and I just love that integration of tangible art and eldritch horror. It's just the best. 

I feel that the adaptation is very strong, and a great depiction of a more modern Lovecraft despite the setting and time period. I loved all the lil reference drops to other works in the Cthulhu Mythos throughout as well -- such a nice touch. 

I felt the relationship that Thurber and Pickman have is so utterly bizarre and my own explanation for why there is a draw there is that "the darkness" itself as described and felt by both character acts as an allegory for queerness. I might be um biased, being a queer person and all, but that's just me. I think it's also valid to interpret the whole relationship as like human curiosity--like hell yeah I'd also be fascinated by this guy's art, if not also a bit frightened! So the draw is simply explained that way... if you so choose. Lots of ways to go on that end of things, and that's rad. 

There is such a a genuine level of depth and understanding of character in the way Crispin plays Pickman. I swear there's not even that much depth in the original Lovecraft story! It's just all on this adaptation, the director, and his performance. It's outstanding, and he really steals the show (and my heart) in this one particularly.  

A lot of folks, and I mean A LOT, didn't seem to appreciate the the truly old-timey Bostonian accent. I see ya’ll out there. C'mon, he worked with THE Erik Singer for that accent to sounds as true-to-time-period as possible -- at least respect it but I find it fascinating how that, being as normal for that setting as it is, given an extra level of strangeness to Pickman as a character (namely because nobody else is doing that, give or take. There are some Massachusetts accents here and there from other characters but there's not really the same level of commitment). 

Also, I thought the way they did Pickman's sketchbook up as a multi-media and textural kinda piece in and of itself was a nice touch -- felt like that was purposely laid out specifically with Crispin in mind to play off the works he creates. Not quite, of course, but I think that's neat and how I’m choosing to read into it. 

[debbiechanclub]

bestie…. i fear i need finlay match recommendations 😗

Bestie. I have loaded you up with 20 matches. I told you if you give me an inch where Finlay is concerned, I will take a mile.

Now, first things first. All but three of my recs are on NJPW World (and two are free to watch without an account). If you don't have an account, I'm more than willing to share my login with you in the name of spreading the gospel of Debbie Chan.

That being said, if you think you might want to sign up for an account, now is a GREAT time to do it because they're actually launching a brand new website this Thursday (11/9), complete with apps for Android and iOS, which they didn't previously have. It's only $9 USD/month, so I think it's well worth it. However, you won't be able to sign up until Friday, after the new site is live. Additionally, as part of the overhaul, they're upgrading a massive portion of the archive footage, and, unfortunately, nothing from prior to 2021 will be available to watch until they put it back up. (All my recs except for one on YouTube are from 2021 on.)

Again though, I will absolutely share my login with you (and you'd be able to log in right away and watch as mine is an existing account). Just let me know!

Okay, now that that's out of the way, onto the recs! And my apologies because this... is long.

FYI: I've listed these in chronological order, and they're best viewed in that order as it really helps to tell the story of how Finlay became who he is today :)

FinJuice vs. G.o.D (YouTube) - YouTube comes in clutch for a pre-2021 match! This is good viewing because 1) FinJuice was a well established and fairly successful tag team, and don't even get me started on all the messiness of Juice running around with Jay in Bullet Club Gold while Finlay is literally leading real Bullet Club now; and 2) Since overtaking Bullet Club in March, Finlay has almost exclusively feuded with G.o.D. (he finally put an end to it this past weekend at Power Struggle). And it's crazy seeing Finlay's evolution from then to now.

2021 New Japan Cup Quarter Final vs. Jay White (3/18 show) - This was a HUGE win for our boy because, going into this match, Finlay was on an 0-12 losing streak against Jay. And he and Jay will be forever intertwined because they came up in the NJPW dojo together and were roommates and best friends and everyone constantly compared Finlay to Jay (they still do now), and that created a MASSIVE chip on his shoulder that lead to him clocking Jay over the head and subsequently taking control of Bullet Club. So yeah. V. important match in the lore of Finlay.

2021 New Japan Cup Semi-Final vs. Will Ospreay (3/20 show) - I hope you're ready for a lot of Ospreay, because he and Finlay have history. Back in 2021, Ospreay defeated Finlay in the semi-final of the NJ Cup and then went on to win the tournament and the IWGP World Heavyweight Championship. This plays into why Finlay is gunning for Ospreay now.

Resurgence 2021 vs. Jay White - This match was for the NEVER Openweight Title. Jay retained... but Finlay eventually went on to win that title after taking over Bullet Club, which also used to be Jay's.

G1 Climax 32 vs. Juice Robinson (7/26), Will Ospreay (8/2), and El Phantasmo (8/10) - Finlay returned to Japan for the first time in over a year for the G1 Climax 32, and he had a really strong showing. This was when I first started to get the brainrot for him. I really recommend watching all his matches from that tournament... but these three are the most important to Finlay's character because of his history with Juice and Will and what would come later with ELP and Bullet Club.

Burning Spirit 2022 vs. Will Ospreay (9/25 show) - This match was for the IWGP United States Championship, the very one and same that Ospreay currently holds and that Finlay destroyed with a giant mallet at Power Struggle this weekend. Ospreay retained back then. But I have a feeling (and sincerely fucking hope) that there's a new title in Finlay's future.

NJPW World TV Championship Tournament vs. ZSJ (YouTube) - After coming up short in the G1 Climax 32 and against Ospreay (again), Finlay still had a chance to win the newly created NJPW World TV Title; and then ZSJ eliminated him in the second round. I really think this loss was the straw that broke the camel's back and really set the stage for Finlay's frustration and his comeback as the leader of Bullet Club.

2023 New Japan Cup vs. Tomohiro Ishii (3/6 Anniversary Event, free to watch without an account!), Tama Tonga (3/19), and Sanada (3/21) - And we've reached Bullet Club Finlay! Finlay's match against Ishii was the first match of the tournament, and no one―absolutely no one―expected him to come out in Bullet Club gear with Gedo, of all people, in his corner. And not only that, but he handily disposed of Ishii. He made it all the way to the final where he lost against Sanada, but he sent a loud and clear message during the entire tournament that this was a new David Finlay (and I was a goner).

Capital Collision 2023 vs. AR Fox (YouTube) - I think you've seen this one? But including it because it's a good match and also the night Finlay recruited Clark Connors, the first member of what would become Bullet Club War Dogs (and I was there!).

Wrestling Dontaku 2023 vs. Tama Tonga (5/3 show) - Remember how I said that Finlay eventually won the NEVER Openweight Title after taking over Bullet Club? This was when he did it.

Dominion 6.4 in Osaka-Jo Hall vs. El Phantasmo - This. This is the match and night that ruined me forever. After kicking ELP out of Bullet Club (basically because he was and is close with Jay and didn't respect Finlay), Finlay defended the NEVER Openweight Title against him and proved that he could back up all the shit he was talking. But besides that, this was the night the War Dogs were formed. I highly recommend also checking out the end of the IWGP Junior Tag Title match just so you can see Drilla Moloney turn on United Empire and join Bullet Club. It quite honestly altered me forever.

G1 Climax 33 vs. Tama Tonga (7/26), Eddie Kingston (8/8), and Will Ospreay (8/10) - Did I mention that Finlay has spent most of this year feuding with Tama/G.o.D? They tried to kill each other in this year's G1, and it was fantastic. He and Eddie also tried to kill each other. But Ospreay beat him in the quarter-finals. Just more fuel for why he's going after Ospreay now.

12-Man Elimination Match: Bullet Club vs. G.o.D. and Intergalactic Jetsetters (10/1 show, free to watch without an account) - Because I would be remiss not to rec a match with all the War Dogs (and Chase is there, too). This is a fun one, if not a bit of a clusterfuck. (And shout-out to Kevin Knight, who I also adore.)

Destruction in Ryogoku 2023 vs. Tama Tonga (10/9 show) - This is the last of Finlay's singles matches against Tama, and unfortunately he lost the NEVER Openweight Title back to him (which I don't think anyone expected). But it's a good match and Finlay looked strong despite his loss. And now that I know he likely (hopefully?) has a new belt coming to him after the start of the year, I'm honestly okay that he lost. (Because Tama doesn't even have the title anymore, believe it or not).

So there are my Finlay match recs. I'm well aware this is overkill lmao, but I really am excited that you want to know more about him, and I want to do him justice. Because he really is my favorite guy, and he deserves to be recognized as his own wrestler and person not just in relation to Jay or Juice or anyone else.

But I won't blame you if you don't watch all of these, because I know I went insane 😂

[late-to-the-party-81]

It's all about experience

AN: And we're about 2/3 of the way through. This is my first time writing for Stephen Strange so I hope that you enjoy. As always when I include Peter, he's aged up.

I’m using dialogue prompts from this post by @nightprompts and they can be found emboldened in the text.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics, banners and covers by me.

Pairings: Switch!Reader x Subby!Peter Parker. Switch!Reader x Dom!Stephen Strange

CW: Cuckolding and Age difference, Explicit sexual content, Smidge degradation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Dirty talk, aged-up Peter Parker, mild Dom/Sub dynamics, mentions of non-monogamy as a valid relationship choice.

Word count: 3.4k

You knew something was up with Peter when he arrived at your dorm. He was acting more anxious and jumpy than usual. It was only after a few drinks and some heavy petting instigated by you, that your genius boyfriend let you know what was on his mind. Between gasps and moans, as you ground down on his lap and tugged on his hair, he finally let his fantasy spill from his lips.

“I want to see you get fucked by another man. An older man. I want to be told you need him cos I’m not good enough.”

A cuckolding kink; not what you were expecting from your angelic looking boyfriend (not to say he was purely vanilla, but still), but it made the rest of your evening even hotter than usual as he fucked into you with abandon as you whispered dirty thoughts in his ear about how this mystery man would fuck you so good, as Peter could only watch…

You forgot about it for a week or so, brushing it off as just a fantasy, a moment between the two of you, until Peter brought it up again.

“I was… wondering… would you do it?”

You pottered around your kitchen, glad your dorm mates were out.

“Do what, Petey-baby?”

“You know… be with an older man. While I watched.”

You stopped in the middle of sorting out the spice cupboard and turned to him. Although you two were currently in a monogamous relationship, it was more out of convention and lack of discussion than any aversion to non-monogamy.

“I haven’t ever really thought about it. Are you saying it’s something you’d be okay with? That you wouldn’t be jealous?”

“I wouldn’t be jealous at all.” He walked over, cupping your face with his hands and pressing his forehead against yours. “It would be hot.”

“Anyone in mind for this fantasy of yours?” You pressed kisses over his jaw, revelling in his little sighs.

“Not really… I mean, one guy springs to mind, but I don’t know if he’d do it and whether you’d…you know…find him attractive.”

Your hands snaked up his t-shirt, and you started to tweak his nipples as you nibbled his lower lip. He rubbed his hips up against you, and you could clearly feel his erection pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

“Tell me, baby. Who do you wanna see fuck me? Who is it you think is going to fuck me better than you? Make me scream? Who has the skill to show me just how pathetic a lover you are?”

“Dr. Strange! Stephen!”

Peter shuddered in your hold as he whined out the name. His head dropped to your shoulder as your hands slid down his body. You smiled to yourself when you realised your sweet boyfriend had cum in his pants…

Extracting yourself from his embrace, you hopped up on the counter, spreading your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side and guiding Peter to where you needed him. As he ate you with abandon, you detailed to him all the ways you’d scream on Stephen’s cock. Peter came again into his hand as you came into his mouth.

A week later, Friday afternoon, you received a text from an unknown number. 

Be ready for me, darling girl. 8pm. I’ll collect you. SS

A shiver ran down your spine and straight into your panties. Were you really going to do this? You couldn’t deny the thought was intensely arousing. Dr. Strange- Stephen- was a very attractive man. And it wasn’t just his physical attributes. You’d met him a few times when he’d popped in via portal to chat to Peter about the odd thing. His general aura of competence, and smugness, borne of the fact he knew he was far above you, nearly everyone in fact, intellectually. 

With Peter, you were the more experienced, normally the ‘aggressor’ in your shared bedroom antics. You knew that wouldn’t be the case with Stephen; he’d be totally in charge, and you found the idea titillating. Would you be able to submit to him? Probably. You shivered again before heading to your bathroom to prepare for your evening.

7.55pm

You paced back and forth in your living room, waiting for your doorbell. You smoothed down your black skirt and straightened the back seam on your stocking, trying to tamp down your nerves. Such was your heightened state that it took you a moment to notice the yellow-gold sparks and put two and two together. Or course he wasn’t going to pick you up in a car. The sparks turned in a circle, which grew in size until it was fully formed.

Stephen stood on the other side, full sorcerer regalia, including his sentient cape, holding his hand with his long tapered fingers towards you. You placed your hand in his and stepped over the portal threshold.

You looked around at the interior of the Sanctum Santorum, the grand staircase, the wall hangings, and large stained glass windows.

“Welcome, darling, to my humble abode.” Stephen’s lips twitched up in a small smirk and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks, at the same time trying to suppress the urge to giggle. That was not you!

He hooked your arm into the crook of his as he led you up the staircase and through the maze of corridors. The lights burned low in their embrasures, casting shadows as you walked. It should have been eerie, but it actually felt intimate.

“So, sweet one, tell me - are you fully onboard with this idea of the Spider-child?”

“Doctor…” He interrupted you with a raised hand.

“Please, call me Stephen.”

“Stephen, then. He’s not a child; he’s 25.” Stephen made a dismissive sound.

“As I said, a mere child.” You raised your eyebrow at him, challengingly

“I’m not that different in age.” 

“Ah, but you have always struck me, in our interactions so far at least, as someone mature beyond their years.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his compliment.

“Well, to answer your question, I am on board with it. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

He paused outside of a pair of double doors, letting go of your arm to open the door and usher you through.

“A feisty little thing, aren’t you? Well, you can change your mind at any time. Just say…..let’s see…” He tapped his index finger against his lips. “Just say ‘webspinner’.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggle this time as you walked into the Doctor’s chambers. 

A large, four-poster bed was central in the room, dark red curtains tied back. And there, in the corner, in an armchair was Peter. His arms lay on top of those of the chair, hands gripping the ends in anticipation. His eyes met with yours, and he shot you a small smile before your focus was pulled back to Stephen by his hand on your chin.

“Eyes on me, darling girl. Ignore him now. He’s insignificant, and I’m going to prove it to you.” 

His hand slid up to cup your face, and you could feel the spiderweb-like scars on it. His thumb brushed over your cheek and you looked up into his ice-blue eyes. They were hypnotising. Your own hand raised up and brushed over the greying hair at his temples.

“You are a very handsome man, Stephen.”

“And you are a very beautiful, very alluring young lady.”

“Shut up and kiss me already.” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper but laden with desire.

He smiled as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, gentle at first, but as you wound your arms around his neck, he kissed you harder. His free hand slid around your waist, drawing you closer. His beard and moustache tickled your face, a strange and unfamiliar feeling.

You didn’t know if it was just him or because of the whole situation, but your arousal built quickly, with you kissing him back just as ferociously as he was kissing you. You didn’t notice that he was moving the pair of you until he suddenly sat down on the edge of his bed, drawing you down with him to straddle his lap. Your short skirt rode up, exposing the top of your stockings, and you heard moans in stereo; from Peter in the corner where he had a view of your skirt fabric tightening across the ample globes of your ass, and from Stephen when he caught sight of the strip of flesh bared between the stocking tops and you rucked up skirt.

“Like what you see?” You whispered against his mouth, drawing his lower lip between your teeth and giving it a slight nip. His hands ran up your back, caressing you through the thin material of your top, and he chuckled.

“You are a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

You ground lightly on his lap and tilted your head to the side coquettishly.

“And do you like a naughty girl, Stephen?”

“Mmm, very much indeed.”

He rolled the pair of you then so that you were flat on your back on his opulent bed, his slim hips situated between your thighs, your skirt now doing duty as a belt. Stephen ran his hands up and down your legs, feeling the silkiness of your stockings and the softness of your skin before they inched up to take hold of your skirt and peel it down your body. He discarded it somewhere over his shoulder theatrically, and you giggled.

He pushed your top up slightly to bare your soft navel and pressed his face into it, his lips kissing gently nipping. He made his way upwards, pushing at the fabric as he went, until you grasped it yourself and tore it over your head, throwing it away with the same abandon he’d shown your skirt.

“Does Peter ever make you feel this way, darling girl? Like a work of art ready to be worshipped?

“No…”

“He makes you do all the work, I bet. Waiting on you to tell him where to touch…” His hands skimmed over your lace-covered breasts. “Where to kiss…” He sucked one pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric, and you gasped at the sensation. “But don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. Just leave it all to me, sweet girl.”

His mouth returned to your breast, his hand cupping your panty-covered mound, applying just a small amount of pressure. He teased you like that for what felt like an age, moving back and forth between your breasts until your chest was heaving and his hair was a mess from where you’d been tugging on it.

You tried to sit up, but he gently pushed you back down. 

“Relax…”

Staring up at him, you watched as he carefully divested himself of his clothing. First the cloak, which flew off to another corner of the room as doom as Stephen snapped open the clasp. Next was his blue leather top, which he pulled off over his head.

You were biting your lower lip as he undid his pants, pushing them down to his ankles. His body was lean and toned. Dark hair dusted his chest before coming together in a thicker line that led down into his straining underwear. Your eyes widened slightly. Fuck!

Kicking his pants away, he crawled back over you. Your hands roamed over his chest and his arms, tracing his other battle scars. He may be powerful, but he didn’t heal like Peter, despite the magic he wielded. But there was definitely something alluring about a body that had experienced life, that had lost some of its smoothness and softness.

“Are you ready to continue, darling?”

His lips trailed across your collarbone, intermittently sucking harshly before laving the spot with his tongue.

“Please!”

Stephen drew the straps of your bra down your arms with a gentle touch before one hand snuck behind your back to undo the clasp. Then, just as carefully, he peeled your panties down, leaving you clad only in your stockings and heels.

With his head level with your sex, he smiled before blowing gently over the sensitive skin. You shuddered and let out a moan.

“Just think, dear one. I’ve barely started with you, but I’m guessing it would be all over with Peter by now. Let me show you what you’ve been missing out on…”

Without taking his eyes off you, he leant forwards, nuzzling his way between your folds before licking a stripe up you. You groaned deep in your throat, your back arching as you surrendered to the pleasure. Your hands tangled in the coverlet of the large bed, red and gold fibres twisting under your assault.

You’d admit you’d been sceptical about how different sex with Stephen would be - it wasn’t as though Peter didn’t know what he was doing or couldn’t take instruction, but what you were experiencing now, this was the touch of experience. He teased you, touched you, gently. He was carefully and fully learning you, learning what you liked and what you didn’t, without any input from you other than the trembling of your thighs and the soft needy sounds falling from your lips. He traced you and tasted you, building you up slowly. His hands, that helped him channel such power, caressed the skin of your inner thighs, every so often brushing against the edges of your folds.

Your orgasm crept up on you, building and building gently and easily until it washed over you like a summer breeze, carrying you high as you cried out and then swaying back down to the here and now.

“Oh, fuck!”

You stared up at the swags of fabric covering the top of the bed, sucking in deep breaths. Stephen moved over you again, and you pulled his face to yours, kissing him deeply and moaning as you tasted him on your lips. 

“More, darling girl?”

“Yes. Fuck me, Stephen. Please!” 

His cock brushed up against your thigh, and you reached down between you to clasp it in your hand, feel its length, girth and weight, and you moaned as you thought about how it would feel inside you. You stroked it, teasing a pearl of pre-cum out of the tip and smearing it over his head.

“Then come here…” His arms wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you up onto his lap. He was sitting back on the edge of the bed, but this time you were facing the other way around, your back to Stephen’s front, his cock wedged up between you. As you looked forwards from your perch, your eyes met Peters. He was staring at you, lust clearly etched over his face, his arousal evident. Stephen’s arms wrapped around you, one caressing your breast and teasing the nipple back to a point, and the other pushed your thighs apart, baring your glistening pussy to your boyfriend. Your head rolled back onto his shoulder, and the sorcerer whispered into your ear. 

“Ride me, dear one. Take my cock, slide it into this pretty pussy of yours and take what you want. Show your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend how a real man can please a woman.”

Peter whined, and you sighed as you rolled your hips, rubbing your clit up against Stephen’s fingers.

“Come on, sweetheart…” He was almost purring, and when he nipped your earlobe you squeaked. Planting your feet on the floor and one hand on his knees, you raised yourself up, reaching between your thighs for his length. You swirled his tip around your folds, mixing his juices with yours. The hand on your breast moved up your body, resting lightly around your neck.

“Stop teasing…” His fingers pressed, slightly making you gasp.

You sank down.

“Oh God!” Your eyes rolled back into your head as Stephen filled you. How could one cock feel so different from another? Peering out from under your eyelids, you saw that Peter had leaned forwards, eyes trained on where you were being stretched wide. 

You made a tentative movement, lifting up slightly and then sinking back down, taking more of Stephen’s cock inside you. He hissed in your ear, and although you couldn’t see his face, you imagined that he was struggling with the sensations as well.

“How does it feel, darling girl? How does it feel to be fucking an older man while your boyfriend watches?”

“Good. So very good.” Your breath hitched as you moved again, riding Stephen harder, faster.

“Tell me. Tell me how I’m making you feel.”  His lips and facial hair tickled your neck as he kissed you, returning to pluck and pinch at your nipples as your breasts bounced and to swirl the fingers of his other hand around your clit.

“I…I feel so full. And– and so sensual. Desirable.” You sucked in a stuttered breath as you moved up and down. “I like that he’s watching me. Seeing how another man wants me. Can please me. It feels amazing. Oh!” 

Your second orgasm was fast approaching, and you knew it wouldn’t be as gentle as your first. Stephen’s cock was brushing over that sweet spot inside you, and the sheer eroticism of what you were doing was setting you aflame.

“Fuck! Stephen! Keep touching me, please. Oh God! Gonna cum. Gonna…”

Your body tensed as pleasure ripped through you like lightning, and you screamed. Without warning, Stephen rolled you both again so you were on all fours on the bed, and he was standing on the floor behind you. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the supple flesh, and he started to fuck into you with abandon.

“Could he do this? Could that pathetic boy bring you this much pleasure? You need a man to slake your appetites, keep you satisfied. Maybe I’ll keep you? Turn you into my cumslut to fuck whenever I feel the urge. Take pictures of your beautiful face in the throws of ecstasy and send them to Peter?”

His words were a litany of filth, painting an erotic image in your brain of you lying fucked out and sated within these very sheets.

You came again, an explosive pleasure that stole the breath from your lungs. You felt wetness between your legs, and you realised you’d squirted for the first time.

“Yes!” Stephen growled in your ear before he was groaning out his own pleasure, pumping you full of his cum, bearing you down to lie flat on the bed as he continued to thrust into your pussy. You were aware of a small cry from the other side of the room, one that signalled Peter reaching his own orgasm as he watched the pair of you.

For the next few minutes, the only sound in the room was that of three sets of lungs breathing heavily. Your eyes were closed, and you were warm from where Stephen lay half on top of you. When you heard a strange flapping noise you opened one eye to see the cloak hovering in front of you bearing a damp washcloth. You smiled and took the proffered item, feeling a bit silly when you muttered a quick ‘thanks’ under your breath.

Sitting up to clean yourself off, you started to feel slightly self-conscious. What was the etiquette now? Stephen shifted behind you, dropped a soft kiss to your shoulder and slipped off the bed, pottering around the room, out of your peripheral vision. Peter appeared in front of you, crouching down by the side of the bed.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m fine, Peter. It was…good. I hope that’s okay with you?”

He grinned at you, his boyish features alight.

“More than okay. I can’t wait to get you home.” You chuckled at his enthusiasm. You were sure that he was still half-hard inside his damp jeans.

“Calm it, you crazy kids.” Stephen was dressed now, or at least partially, and the cloak had your clothes gathered up, depositing them into your grasp. “Let’s get you two home.”

He started to move his hand in a circle, opening a portal from his room directly into yours. When it was stable he took your hand in his and dropped a small kiss to your knuckles.

“I had a wonderful time, darling girl. If the pair of you ever want to repeat this, I would be more than happy to oblige.” You felt the heat spreading up your throat and across your cheeks at his statement. “Oh, and Peter - treat this young lady right. I haven’t decided if I was entirely joking when I talked about stealing her from you.”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @sheismarvelousworld @strangeprincex

[ohanny]

another friday, another cutie pie episode! so here are my thoughts while watching the second episode:

kuea is absolutely not me because i would never check my email first thing in the morning, notifs be damned

also even if i did get good news, i would not have the energy to throw a full "blackpink in your area" on top of my bed

kuea: oh yes, i am a bit... sore lian: ¬‿¬

ugh, why can't you just talk to this man who just happens to be a supportive, relatively mentally stable, functioning adult who dresses nice, cooks you food, pulls out your chair and YOU ACT LIKE THE RETURNING HIDE AND SEEK CHAMPION OF 2022

lian: if you need help, you can always tell me me: IF ONLY

nonetheless, i've had a boyfriend for a decade and i feel as single as the last crushed pringle at the bottom of the tube of doom when zee looks at nunew

kuea, a lying liar who lies: kon diao texted me lian: i love you me: KUEA DO YOU FEEL EVEN A LIL BAD???

i love the mission impossible theme tune

nong diao squared ready to cover up crimes

yi can smell bullshit a mile away but unfortunately for him, he's also a weak victorian bitch who gets flustered by a cheek touch from a twink he (alledgedly) fucked in his car just last week

JUST SHOW ME PERTH YOU COWARDS chapter 2

diao is a good friend with a good brain cell. we all need a diao.

kuea: i have a lot to think about. me: you also have a lo to TALK about goddammit

meanwhile poor lian is just trying to plan his barbie dream wedding, oh dear

yi is here to be the best man but also to watch the world burn.

kon diao loves lists. kon diao is me.

the world does not deserve diao. this show certainly doesnt. if he was running it, again, it would be 5 minutes long. well, maybe 15. he would keep all the spicy bits.

this beauty clinic is totally not the sponsor of this series.

the totally not sponsoring intensifies

"how do i look?" EXACTLY THE SAME AS YOU DID 30 SECONDS AGO YOU BABY SKINNED MOCHI OF PERFECTION

i will never not mishear this as "cosmic-exo entertainment" and i am not sorry

uh-oh, their barbie dream weddings are NOT the same

lsakjfkasljfafj a nuer x syn intermission! and nuer has a less questionable shirt on!

you two (ಥ﹏ಥ)

but props to syn never hiding his intentions and props to nuer respecting his choices even if they make him a sad boy. SOME PEOPLE could never

hia yi is eternal suffering personified even at a cake tasting and quickly becoming my favourite.

foei: oh is it too crowded? do we need more room? the gays: *offended*

salaldkjf i am catching vibes. pls tell me they will grey's anatomy this and diao and yi will end up getting married in the barbie dream wedding horror show while kuea and lian elope in korea

"you can make the final decision" says lian, not having any idea they like the polar opposite things.

he is a smooth bastard though. "ah yes, my favourite wedding singer will be too busy being my husband"

"oh no, how will our suits match if we cannot see them?" you dumbo, you have kon diao, the wedding planner extraordinaire. he has a list for that.

diao has been calling out bullshit since birth at this point.

yi: ah yes, they are so compatible. diao: dude, they can't agree on anything. yi: which is not my problem.

yi really be like "pfffft, let them talk it out between them" as if we have time to be here for the next ten years. he really couldn't give less fucks, lol

DIAO LEGIT IS LIKE IZZIE PLANNING MERDER'S WEDDING

how can he answer cosmic-exo in that suit. go change.

oh, the straights are at it again

lian: thank you yi: oh, you already picked a suit? lian: yes yi: wow, i am so helpful. you are blessed to have me tolerate you.

i love how nunew's voice gets so much deeper when he switches to english

IF ONLY YOU WERE THAT EXCITED ABOUT YOUR OWN WEDDING

kuea: what should i do? me screaming at my tv: TALK TO YOUR MAN

diao is seriously like baby yoda and syn doesn't need to become a monk. he just needs to hang out with diao more for some deep wisdom and then keep living in sin.

nuer is a sweet understanding angel and syn is a pouty baby and i could watch these two forever

"it's our wedding, not just mine." except you have NO IDEA you're not getting your wedding but an industrial scale keerati legacy production

yi: see? they're totally on the same page diao: ...

who is this random laxatives lady and why does she look like she's about to place a curse on kuea?

lian: you pick kuea: i am fine with everything narrator: he was not, in fact, fine with anything

diao turn of the tap for fucks sake, it is very obvious you are not paying your own bills in this economy

diao: my dog is so smart yi: your dog is literally an idiot

oh god here we have hia yi talk about marriage and kasdjflkafj they might kiss and i can't believe i am about to say this but at this point diao needs to worry about me cooking that cockblocking dog :D

WE HAVE A STAIRCASE WITH A HAND RAIL? IN A BL?!?!?!

lian: *trying* kuea: cosmic-exo is calling, byeee

look at his sad eyes, he KNOWS

"why am i talking to a doll?" BECAUSE IT IS MORE LIKELY TO HAVE AN ACTUAL CONVERSATION WITH YOU. you deserve better, boo.

lian: aren't you kirin already kuea: but i could be cosmic-exo kirin in korea. lian: okay. kuea: ... wait what?

OH FUCK SCREW THE WEDDING WAS THAT PERTH I JUST SAW?!?!?!?

[neon-green-reagent]

Ranked: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

So in all my franchise devouring, this is definitely one of THE most disappointing series I've covered. To be fair, nothing can touch what watching all the Paranormal Activity movies did to me, and there is more to love here, but this is going to be kinda rough all the same.

Texas Chainsaw 3D : So at bare minimum, most of the movies are genuinely well-made and look good. NOT THIS ONE. This was the cheesiest and most sellout, oddly enough, that the series ever gets. Imagine if TCM was the Friday the 13th 2009 remake with less charm. Now that's some stinky shit right there. The concept is interesting, a long lost Sawyer rediscovering her roots and meeting Leatherface, but the execution is downright dumb. It makes it so there are no heroes and no villains and everyone's just a gray lump. A notion that a movie with better production values maybe could handle. But that ain't this. Oh, and Leatherface looked like total shit, which is the only time I can honestly say that of this series. Even the bad entries get that basic part right.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022) : What was I just saying about no heroes, no villains, just gray blobs that get turned into tomato bisk? Yeah, that. I don't quite know what the point is of making a film with intensely politically charged talking points and making every character be in the wrong, but I can tell you what it makes. A MESS. Where if you root for someone, chances are they'll do something awful, stupid, backwards, or go against their own principles at some point. This is probably the goriest entry, but who gives a damn? Gore is supposed to serve a story or characters (or ideally both) that you care about. Without that, it's corn syrup.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning : So... this is a prequel to the 2003 remake. About a quarter of the way through, I found myself going, wait. I thought they said in the previous movie this is the first time anyone ever made it out alive to report the murders... YEP. A prequel where it was preordained there will be no survivors. So they made sure to make everyone very thinly written so you wouldn't be too worried about that. The main thumbs up I have here is that it's one of my favorite Leatherface designs of the entire series. Otherwise, it's easily skipped.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation : The reputation this movie has is a bit off in my opinion. It's starting to get "so bad, it's good" cred. Yes, there are things about it that I would say fit that description. Particularly Matthew McConaughey's performance. All the over-the-top acting in general. But at the end of the day, the movie plays all of its extremely weird gags very straight. So the tone is dead serious while we introduce such non-TCM concepts as the illuminati. And it turns out, no, this isn't a comedy. The cocreator of the entire franchise was absolutely sincere. It shows, and it really brings the fun way down. It's ridiculous and way out in left field, but it doesn't mean for you to laugh. Yikes.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) : We're finally in watchable territory. And yet when I say that... The last half hour just becomes what it always is for these movies. A girl screaming non-stop while chased or tortured, and after several rounds of that, you start to check out. I've also never seen a final girl fuck up her own escape as much as this one does. Also, and this goes for TCM: The Beginning too, R. Lee Ermey is one of the most one-note, overrated actors I've ever seen, and his presence here is not helpful in making me enjoy the film. Otherwise, this is serviceable if TCM is your thing.

Leatherface (2017) : Of the later sequels/remakes/prequels, this is pretty fun. Imagine, a TCM movie having fun with the premise. Trying something different. With an origin story that wants you to guess which character will be our big ole chainsaw boy. While him turning out to be the least likely suspect might put some people off, I thought the transformation was pretty dang cool. There's a lot of strong acting going on here from Lili Taylor and Stephen Dorff. The absolutely wild girl with the burn scars was a welcome addition to rather a lot of nutty characters, so it's a real feat she managed to make herself stand out. Overall, a stronger film than I could have hoped for that late in the game.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (OG) : WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S NOT NUMBER ONE!? I mean, it's not. Not for me. I find this movie to be a pretty difficult sit. There are a lot of tiresome and forgettable characters. Our villains are loud and annoying. But the grit this was filmed with, the determination to get it made, the messages that lie underneath, and the character of Leatherface all shine through. It's an important film that ushered in a new era of horror, so while I don't find it that watchable, I deeply respect it.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 : This is the movie The Next Generation wishes it was. Tobe Hooper decided he could never follow the first film, so he decided to make a parody of his own work. Genius. It's hilarious, disgusting, lurid, wild, and extremely fitting with the decade it was made in. Stretch is by far my favorite final girl in the series. Dennis Hopper knew exactly what movie he was in. And the soundtrack is great, too.

Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3 : Sorry. Yeah, I'm sorry. But I love this one best. You've got Ken Foree kicking ass. You have Viggo Mortensen serving cunt. The Sawyer family actually manages to feel like a loving and supportive family in a twisted way, which is a trope I love. They realized they can't up the ante when Hooper has already set the bar so high, so they don't try. They make ridiculous fights, silly dialogue, and have fun. Fun is always the biggest component for me as to whether or not a film will be a winner. So uh... winner winner, chicken dinner?

Thus my journey ends. I want to add that aside from that dead last entry, even when I didn't love whatever movie I happened to be watching, they did right by Leatherface. He's one of those Jason-y slashers that you want to hug, because he probably deserves better than being used like an attack dog by his own family. I always enjoyed watching him, and every actor brought a different physicality and presence. So, no, I didn't hate every second. And if Leatherface seems intriguing to you as a character, you'd definitely get something out of going over this franchise, too.

[coralinehecc]

Corals Monthly Update #3

HOHOHO!! FIRST BLOG POST OF 2023 AND I’M NEARLY 2 WEEKS LATE!!! Super sorry about the long wait! I’ve had tests recently and only got off of school like a few days ago haha! So! Welcome back to my monthly update on what I get up to in my life! Now, before we get into January, I, for the final time, have to tap back into the previous month. Curse past me for thinking the 21st was a good day to start doing these!!! ANYHOW! The rest of December and early January were a BLAST! But lemmie talk about what happened after I made the last update. CHRISTMAS!! I had a great time with my family and I got a bunch of fluffy things cuz that’s apparently the easiest thing to get me now. We also had dinner on Christmas day with my Grandparents like every year. Over-all that day was very fun! I even got drunk playing Minecraft which was funny for everyone in VC. The next few days weren’t anything exciting, however my brother Finn had a bunch of his friends over for his birthday which was chaotic. But the excitement picks back up on the 28th! BECAUSE SKYE AND VI CAME OVER FOR NEW YEARS!! We’ve been planning this since like, June, so it was awesome seeing them again! We did all kinds of stuff from shopping to playing some awesome games! (I am now chronically addicted to Ultra Kill thanks guys)

We even did some baking! Here is our glorious creation I dubbed, “The Jimothy”. 

Overall the rest of December was awesome! I’m glad I got to celebrate New Years with my besties! Overall, I’ll give it a 10/10! Best way to end 2022 >:D Here’s a few more misc photos hehehhehe

NOW! FOR JANUARY!! January started off still vibing with the guys. However they would then go home on the 4th which sucks. But before that, both Skye and I spent a lot of money on consoles that are almost as old as ourselves. They bought a fucking PS Vita and I got a motherfucking Wii. We both had fun with em and I even helped Skye homebrew their Vita since I wanted to put PebbleCD on it (I failed but shut uuup) But yea, sadly the guys had to go and it sucked! But I still had a great time. There’s a bit of a gap here right up until the 12th, where finally, the big event happened. CAREY IN THE HOUSE WENT LIVE!! I had finished it a few days prior but figured I’d build up hype by posting it on that Friday. AND IT SURE WORKED! The video blew up faster than any of my videos before it! I am so happy the response has been overwhelmingly positive. I also love how the only main complaint that was common amongst people was that Careys exaggerated accent was annoying which, yea can’t argue against. For anyone wishing for more CITH content, I did a behind the scenes mega thread over on my twitter if you wanna have a deeper look into the production! I’ll even link it here:  https://twitter.com/Carey_Black_/status/1619731723352444928 Now, to move onto why it took me forever to make an update. My mock exams.. BUT BEFORE THAT!! THERE’S ALSO THE FACT THAT MR WULF AND I WERE ABLE TO ARCHIVE THE ORIGINAL EDDSWORLD BANG BOOM SPLAT PROJECT FILE!!

This all started because Wulf wanted to edit the credits for his arcade BBS build since I was helping him out and since I said SWF modding is hard he just casually asked Psycosis and after seeing his WIP cabinet, gave Wulf the FLA! So a current “BBS arcade version” is in the works by yours truly thanks to both the generosity of Psycosis and the fact that Mr Wulf is a fucking mad man who could stop global warming in a month if he wanted to LOL! Here’s Wulfs finished Cabinet btw!:  https://twitter.com/MrWulfOfficial/status/1622295302685315073 But yea, for real. My mock exams were a pain! For those outside of Ireland or have a different name for em, Mock exams are, well, exams that act like a practice run for your finals. They’re always harder than the actual finals and are usually graded stricter too! Why? Who knows! The Irish education system is a joke. I feel like I did somewhat ok in them anyway? Some were definitely worse than others but overall it was more of an inconvenience. I did get this really cool art piece out of it however.

Exams would later spill over into February and like I said at the start, I finished and got off school a few days ago. Overall, this month was about a 7/10. It was pretty good, especially in the Eddsworld department, but mocks and other personal tid bits I didn’t mention here dragged it down for me. Since February seems to be mostly me being off school, I hope this month will be better haha! Only time will tell! Thank you for reading! And I hope to see you next month!! (Hopefully on time too haha!) 

[monthofsick]

Out of it

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 3: Out of it

OCs: Isaiah, Luka, Thien, Tiago

First things first: If one of your friends is that drunk, you should definitely call an ambulance. That being said, I must admit that I have a huge thing for people throwing up while being passed out. It’s extremely dangerous in real life, but gladly, we can watch out for our characters in fiction to make sure they’re okay. More or less.

TW: Vomit, drinking, alcohol poisoning, mild omorashi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A tedious week at college had finally come to an end. Tiago’s mother had forbidden him to borrow her car for at least a month after Isaiah had drenched it in his stomach contents, so the friends had decided to just hang out. Thien shared an apartment with two of his fellow students, and since they were both visiting their family over the weekend, they had the entire place for themselves.

Tiago hadn’t snapped out of his sulky mood yet, so Isaiah decided to lift everyone’s spirit with a drinking game. He poured shots of vodka and put on Vampire’s Kiss. The rules were simple: They had to drink every time Nic Cage overacted. They easily emptied the entire bottle and with every sip, the movie became even more hilarious. During the epic climax, Thien rolled off the sofa, barely able to catch his breath inbetween laughing fits. Everyone had a good time.

To let off some steam, they went on to beat each other up in several rounds of Guilty Gear – needless to say that the loser had to drink. After the first few matches, Luka hit a winning streak. With every glorious victory, his cockiness grew as much as the others‘ frustration.

„I told you alcohol totally boosts my reflexes“, he smirked. „Didn’t know it also fucks up yours. Try harder, this is getting boring.“

„Shut your big mouth“, Thien growled. He was the unbeatable one when he was sober, but since he rarely drank as much, the inebriation affected him the most.

„How about I shut your big mouth?“ Tiago’s frown melted into a malicious grin.

„How, with your non existing skills?“, Luka teased back. Tiago ignored him and got up to dig around in his bag. He pulled out a large funnel attached to a clear tube.

„Beer bong time!“, Isaiah cheered.

„Wait, you can’t do it in our living room.“ Thien seemed far less thrilled. „What if he pukes?“

„Are you fucking kidding me?“ Luka was already on his feet, rubbing his palms in anticipation. „I’m a pro. I got this.“

They were gracious enough to move over to the kitchen corner. Isaiah helped Tiago to carefully fill up the funnel with beer. When they were done, Tiago rubbed a finger against the side of his nose, then swirled it around in the foam on top until it had dissolved completely.

„That is… both gross and amazing“, Isaiah remarked.

„Ha, newb. Everybody knows that nose grease kills beer foam.“  Tiago carefully lifted the funnel, making sure not to spill anything. „Now come on over if you dare.“

„Just a regular friday night“, Luka shrugged. He got down on one knee in front of Tiago – inevitably getting a laugh out of Isaiah who began to hum the wedding march. Shutting his eyes for a moment, Luka took a deap breath, then exhaled completely. He put the end of the tube into his mouth and tilted his head upwards, still looking completely relaxed. Isaiah, now sitting on top of the kitchen counter, was fidgeting with excitement. Thien kept a safe distance, ready to turn away if anything remotely vomit-related should happen.

As soon as Luka opened the valve, gravity took over and the beer rushed down the tube.

„Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!“, Tiago and Isaiah chanted with one voice as the amber colored liquid poured into Luka’s mouth. He didn’t swallow at all, he just let the beer flow freely down his throat. It vanished in seconds and Luka got up, raising one arm and beating his chest with the other one until he produced a loud belch. Everyone bawled and celebrated the success with another shot. When they returned to the couch, Luka was already staggering.

-

Just one hour, several drinks and a lot of dumb YouTube videos later, Luka had passed out on the sofa. First, he had slurred his speach. Then, his response time had become significantly delayed. Ultimately, he didn’t react at all. Isaiah bent over and slapped his cheek.

„Hey, Luke! Rise and shine!“ He shook his friend’s shoulders, then pinched the inside of his upper arm. Still no reaction. Luka’s head wobbled as his body was moved, then slumped to his chest.

„Give it up, he’s completely out of it.“ Tiago didn’t seem affected or worried at all. „Just let him sleep it off.“

„Are you nuts?“, Thien protested. „The guy’s wrecked. There’s no way he’s not gonna upchuck sooner or later.“

„So what, just put a bucket next to him.“

„Yeah, because he’ll totally be able to aim“, Thien huffed. „Will you explain to my flatmates why there are puke stains all over our couch and carpet and why the entire room fucking reeks?“

„We could just take him to the bathroom“, Isaiah suggested. „You guys have a bathtub, right? He can sober up in there and if he hurls, we can clean it up easily.“

„That’s… not even a bad idea. Which is a surprise, coming from you.“ Tiago was clearly amused by his own joke, at least until Isaiah punched him in the ribs.

„Stop fighting already. I’d really like to get him to the tub before an accident happens.“ Thien was visibly nervous – he was a sympathy puker after all, but Isaiah had suspected for a long time that he was also emetophobic. The fact that Thien freaked out whenever someone tried to bring up the issue only confirmed the theory.

„Tiago, you’re the strongest“, Isaiah instructed. „You take his upper body. Thien and I each take one of his legs.“

„Great.“ Tiago grumbled, but he did pick himself up from his slouched position. He got behind Luka, reached under his arms and grabbed him around the chest. With joint efforts, they lifted Luka’s limp body up and carried him into the bathroom were they placed him inside of the white tub. They stripped Luka down to his boxershorts, moving him around like a ragdoll, before they lowered him into a stable position.

„We can’t just leave him here, can we?“ Isaiah couldn’t help but feel responsible. He knew perfectly well that he still owed Luka more than one after his friend had cleaned up several buckets worth of puke Isaiah had spewed all over a certain unfortunate car.

„Then what are we supposed to do?“ Tiago clearly wasn‘t thrilled. „Sit here and hold his hand?“

„Let’s just stay for a while and make sure he’s fine, okay?“

„I knew the funneling thing was a bad idea“, Thien grumbled. „Should have never allowed it in my house.“

He left, and for a moment Isaiah was certain he wanted to hide from what was inevitably going to happen. But Thien soon returned with their phones and beer bottles. Grabbing the rug and two towels, they made themselves somewhat comfortable on the bathroom floor.

It didn’t even take ten minutes until Luka let out a sickly burp and released a gush of vomit all over his front. Thien backed away, squinching up his face in disgust.

„He could at least have warned us“, he wailed, then instantly gagged into his hand.

„The dumbass’s completely shitfaced“, Tiago scoffed. „He has no idea that he just barfed. Look? Lights are still out.“

Luka’s only reaction was his head flopping back on the rim behind him. His body jerked before a massive gush of puke shot out of his mouth like water from a drinking fountain. It stained his body up to his thighs and splashed against the ceramic. His bare stomach spasmed as more sick spluttered from his mouth, running down his cheeks.

„Bend him over!“, Isaiah yelled at Tiago who was sitting closest to the bathtub. Tiago reacted promptly and got on his feet while spinning around. With a swift move, he grabbed Luka’s shoulders and leaned him forward. A beige fluid spilled over Luka’s lips, soaking his underwear. It was thicker and mushier than the pure alcohol he had expelled before.

„Oh God.“ Thien’s face had lost all color. He moaned, then clutched his mouth with both hands and rushed out of the bathroom. Just seconds later, there was a drawn-out retch, followed by the sound of liquid hitting a hard surface. Honestly, Isaiah was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier.

„Should I look after him?“, he asked. His gaze switched back and forth between drunk Luka and the door. „I hope he made it to the sink…“

„Don’t you even think of it. The bathtub was your idea, so you’re gonna help me deal with this puker right here.“ Tiago slid under Luka’s arms again and grabbed his shoulders to prop him up. „Besides, if Thien gets it out of his system now, there’s less he has to throw up tomorrow.“

„I guess“, Isaiah sighed. He didn’t feel so great either. The stench of regurgitated alcohol and stomach contents started to get to him. „What about Luke? We can’t let him marinate in his own barf.“

„Yeah, but he has to get it all out before we clean him up. I’m pretty sure there’s more where this came from.“

As if to confirm Tiago‘s assumption, Luka’s inert body suddenly tensed, then heaved several times. He produced muffled gags way back in his throat. Now that the watery stuff had easily poured out of him, there were probably some solids left that were harder to expell. Isaiah slapped Luka on the back until his head moved with a sudden jolt. A mash of doughy chunks, mixed with indefinable lumps of red and yellow, gargled out of his mouth. The steady stream soon turned into single bits and pieces Luka’s body had to eject with harsh coughs. Isaiah kept on tapping between his shoulderblades to help him through the arduous process.

„Looks like the fella had some pizza“, Tiago grinned. Isaiah had no desire to take a closer look at whatever Luka spewed on his crotch. He was glad when the bout finally ended and Luka collapsed in Tiago’s grip. A viscous fluid trickled from his parted lips. Tiago looked like he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but ended up making an irritated face instead as he noticed another puddle spreading between Luka’s legs. „Don’t tell me the idiot just wet himself.“

„So what, he can’t help it.“ Isaiah stroked Luka’s back. It didn’t even matter, the boxers were soaked anyways. „Will be the least of our problems to clean up.“

Tiago leaned Luka back again, then got himself a wet cloth. Stony-faced, he opened Luka’s mouth and removed any lumps of sick that hadn’t made it out.

„Go grab some paper towels and scoop up the solids“, he grumbled. „We don’t want to clog the pipes.“

„Wait, why me?“, Isaiah protested, knowing the answer perfectly well.

„Because this wasted idiot cleaned up after you not so long ago. And, trust me, you were blowing a lot more chunks than he just did.“

„Fine“, Isaiah surrendered to his fate. He fetched an entire stack of tissues from the cabinet, held his breath and started to pick up the clumps of undigested food. Most of it was piling on Luka’s lap and between his legs, which added an extra layer of awkwardness to the obvious ick factor. The puked up pizza felt warm and squishy between the sheets of paper. Isaiah pulled himself together and kept on going.

He almost made it. Maybe it was an extra sloppy lump of dough or an unintentional deep breath that hit him with the overpowering stench of vomit and booze. All of a sudden, Isaiah‘s stomach churned and he dashed towards the toilet. He barely had time to fall on his knees before he emptied himself into the bowl. Everything he had chugged that evening shot out of his mouth and nose in three enormous gushes. Isaiah’s eyes teared up from the sheer force of projectile vomiting. Both his throat and his sinuses burned like fire. With a shaky hand, he wiped his lips and flushed the toilet.

„Sorry“, he croaked and struggled to his feet.

„It’s not like I didn’t see that coming from a mile away“, Tiago sneered, shamelessly enjoying the show.

„Fuck you.“ The redhead shuffled back to his unpleasant duty and wiped up the last bits of mash and morsels. Then he grabbed the showerhead, adjusted the temperature and rinsed away the remaining puke. Some stubborn spots that had congealed on Luka’s skin needed an extra scrub with a moist tissue, but finally, their knocked out friend and the bathtub were clean again. Tiago and Isaiah lifted Luka’s shivering body out of the tub, took off his drenched underwear and dried him off thoroughly before they wrapped him up in a large towel.

„Now what do we do with our sleeping beauty?“ Tiago put Luka down on the rug and rolled him to the side. „I’m not gonna stay here the whole night.“

„I will“, Isaiah sighed. „I can sleep next to him and make sure he doesn’t choke.“

„You just want to be close to the toilet when the chunderstorm hits you tomorrow.“ Tiago chuckled, then threw a pile of towels at the redhead. „Make yourself comfortable.“

Once Tiago had left, Isaiah picked up his phone and double checked how to put a person in the recovery position. He carefully applied the technique to his unconscious friend. Luka’s skin still felt cool and clammy, but at least he was breathing calmly and had a steady pulse. Isaiah spread another towel in front of Luka‘s face, just in case he would throw up again in his sleep.

Overwhelmed by fatigue, Isaiah lay down behind Luka and snuggled up to his back to make sure he couldn’t turn over. Just a few breaths later, he drifted off to sleep.

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Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

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