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#he blurs the lines of love and hate for me so so much

emmettland · 15 hours

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was thinking about this post from @/lambmotifz on the way to therapy

(CW: noncon/dubcon Wincest...very nsfw)

thinking about how Dean wants to kill Ruby and show her who Sam belongs to, but knows she'll fight back again and there will be other chances to kill her. she will die, just not now, because he's gotta teach his Sam a lesson first.

Dean waiting until they're alone and Sam's got his guard down before bringing out the cuffs, giving his brother a chance to put them on. and ofc Sam says no, lashes out at Dean for wanting to restrain him like he's a monster, but it doesn't matter because Dean is stronger and better at close combat and pins him down on his stomach to cuff his wrists to the bed, arms stretched in front of him.

and maybe Sam is a little off his game, because every movement they're touching, his brother's hands are on him, and maybe he could use his powers but the thought of using them on Dean -- well he can't even finish that thought before the cuffs are secure and Sam can only yank against them, demanding Dean take them off. eyes going wide and voice cracking with a panicked Dean! when his jeans get yanked off and his underwear gets shoved down and ohmygod are they really doing this NOW?

but yeah, they are, and Dean's got a hand on his ass, asking if Ruby touched him there, and Sam tries to avoid the question but gasps when he gets his ass slapped hard and Dean just keeps asking until he admits it, yes, she has. another brutal slap followed by Dean telling him she doesn't anymore, because this belongs to him.

and Dean knows. knows what his brother's into, knows that he's let Ruby fuck him when he sticks his finger in Sam, barely wet with spit, and asks again, did she touch you here? and Sam tries to lie but Dean always knows and just shoves in another finger and another way too fast, way too deep, before Sam breaks and says yesyesshedid (and thanks god again that Ruby used such a big dildo recently because he's just loose enough still to avoid tearing even though it hurts).

and Sam's ass gets slapped again with Dean's free hand, other one still curling fingers deep inside, and Sam's head is going fuzzy with the pain and the stimulation and everything happening too fast, too much, with Dean's voice the only thing grounding him, telling him she never will, never again, you know why Sammy? because all of this belongs to me.

it's barely any prep before Dean starts fucking him and god it hurts, it hurts like hell, but it's Dean and he's missed his brother so much and if he belongs to Dean then Dean must still want him, must still love him, and the love and the pain and the anger at Dean for doing this, anger at himself for wanting this all blur together and it's too much, and then one of the thrusts hits something there and it's really too much when Dean adjusts his angle because she can't give this to you, not like I can, she'll never hear you scream like this

and when his brother starts asking, demanding to know who Sam belongs to, obviously the only answers is you, yours, Dean Dean Dean because it's always Dean and Sam hates that it's always Dean and Sam loves that it's always Dean. and it's after the third, maybe fourth orgasm -- Sam doesn't count, maybe they're just spasms, nothing's coming out anymore -- that Sam starts sobbing.

you left me. it comes out all wobbly and pathetic, accusing and hurt and furious and devastated. you left me you left me Dean

and it's only then that Dean stops, placated by his brother's tears, reassured by the words hidden between the lines. i needed you, i missed you, i needed you so badly. and it rips Dean up inside to know he wasn't there for his brother, that because he was gone Sam was desperate enough to trust a demon, but it consoles Dean because no matter how angry his brother is or how much he hates him for trying to control him, Sam still needs him and he's right for doing this. his baby brother needs him.

so he uncuffs his brother (not like Sam was in any state to fight back now) and turns him over. shushes him while he sobs and kisses him tenderly and slides in slow and sweet, giving instead of taking. tells his baby brother i know, i'm here now Sam, i'm not leaving again, not leaving you ever again

(and then Dean kills Ruby and Lucifer never gets freed /j)

#wincest #wincest tag #emmett's spn tag #anyways i guess uh #write later

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pucksandpower · 1 month

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Newsflash

Charles Leclerc x reporter!Reader

Summary: after two years as a paddock correspondent, you’re convinced that Charles Leclerc hates your guts for no apparent reason … but maybe everything is not what it seems

“Wake up, Y/N. It’s race day!”

Your colleague, Natalie, bursts into your hotel room without knocking, as usual. You groan and pull the covers over your head, not ready to face the chaos that is sure to ensue in the paddock.

“Come on, sleepyhead! We have to be at the track by seven this morning for pre-race meetings,” Natalie says, yanking the duvet off you.

“Alright, alright, I’m up!” You grumble, slowly swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “What time is it anyway?”

“5:30. Which reminds me, I need coffee,” Natalie says, already headed for the door. “Meet me in the lobby in 20!”

You spend the next 19 minutes hastily getting ready — putting on minimal makeup, throwing on your favorite jumpsuit, and frantically gathering up notes and gear for the day. You take one last glance in the mirror, trying to smooth down your bedhead, before resigning to just throw a cap on over the mess.

Hustling down to the lobby, there’s a rush of personnel all around — mechanics, engineers, PR reps, and media darting about with coffees and laptops and headsets already in place. You spot Natalie nursing a large black coffee and beeline over.

“Ready to do this?” She asks with a grin.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply with a shrug. The truth is, the nerves are already bubbling up in your stomach. You love your job as an F1 reporter for Sky Sports, but the pressure and scrutiny is immense.

The two of you pile into a car with the rest of the broadcast crew and head to the track. On the ride, you glance over your meticulous notes on the teams and drivers one more time, paying special attention to Ferrari.

Ever since you started covering F1 two years ago, one driver has basically refused to give you the time of day — Charles Leclerc.

For some reason, whenever you are around, he bolts in the opposite direction. When you have attempted interviews, he literally turns and speedwalks away without a word. Other drivers will chat with you, joke around, and give thoughtful answers to questions.

But Charles? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

You can’t figure out why he hates you so much. You’ve scoured your past comments and coverage looking for anything that could have offended him, but come up empty.

Is it something personal against you? Were you mean to him in a past life or something? It hurts, to be honest. You try to stay professional, but his obvious disdain for you still stings.

Sighing, you put your notes away as the car pulls into the paddock. It’s going to be a long day.

After hair, makeup, mic checks, and a final meeting, it’s nearly time for the broadcast to go live as cars start lining up on the grid. Nerves buzzing, you watch Charles warm up with his performance coach across the pit lane, headphones in and clearly in the zone. As always, he walks right past you without a flicker of acknowledgment.

Your heart twinges, but you swiftly push the hurt aside. It’s showtime.

The next few hours are a blur of rushed interviews, sound bites, stats flashing across screens, and organized chaos. After the race finally ends, there are more interviews, podium ceremonies, and press conferences to wade through before you can take a breath.

“Man, that was brutal!” Natalie huffs as the two of you finally plop down in chairs in the media room later that afternoon. She cracks open a Red Bull and takes a long drink. “You hanging in there?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you reply half-heartedly. The truth is, you’re drained — physically and mentally. And of course, the interaction with Charles, or lack thereof, is weighing heavy.

“Why do you let that pompous twerp get under your skin so much?” Natalie says with a frown, seeming to read your mind. “He’s a rude, stuck up jerk who isn’t worth the energy. Forget about him.”

You shake your head with a sigh. “You’re right, you’re right. I just … I don’t know, I never did anything to the guy, and it still stings.”

Just then, the door to the media room swings open, and Charles himself strides in. You inadvertently tense up as he approaches the couch, looking calm and confident in his usual Ferrari polo, and folds himself down between Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton, who rounded out the rest of the podium.

Here we go again, you think with an internal eye roll. Just gotta get this over with.

“Hello,” Charles says with an easy grin as he settles into his seat, “What have you got for us today?” Various reporters immediately start firing off questions, undoubtedly looking to get a headline from the race winner.

You gather your courage, take a breath, and call out “Charles, Y/N with Sky Sports here. Can you walk me through your thought process behind that daring pass on Lando in Turn 12?”

To your shock, the second Charles hears your voice, his whole demeanor shifts. He seems to freeze, shoulders hunching slightly, grin dropping from his face as his cheeks instantly flush deep red. He looks panicked almost, eyes darting around the room, before landing briefly on you.

“Uhh … b-bathroom. Need to go. Bye.”

And with that, he leaps up from the couch and practically sprints out of the room.

A stunned silence falls over the space as everyone stares, stunned, at the empty space he left. You feel your stomach drop through the floor, tears of embarrassment and humiliation prickling at your eyes.

What did you do wrong? Now he’s made a total spectacle, running away from you in front of your peers. Mortified, you shakily stand up, chair clanging backwards, and rush from the room as well. Needing air, you bolt outside until you find a secluded spot out back of the paddock, leaning against a wall as the tears flow freely.

“Hey, hey … what’s going on? Are you okay?”

The soft, concerned male voice startles you, and you gasp looking up. There stands Charles, looking alarmed and guilty.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out like that. Please don’t cry!” He moves closer, though still keeps his distance.

You blink rapidly, beyond confused. “What … what are you doing out here? I’m clearly the last person you want to be around.”

He sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is really hard for me to admit but … I like you. As in, I have the biggest crush on you. That’s why I get so flustered and basically black out anytime you talk to me. It’s pathetic, I know.”

Your jaw actually drops open in disbelief. “You … what? You like me? Is this a joke?”

“No! No, I swear, it’s the truth,” he says, face turning red again. “I know I come across like a total jerk, I just freeze up around you because honestly? You’re just so stunning and brilliant, and I get unbelievably shy and nervous. The words won’t come out. It’s like an out of body experience! I chicken out and run away like an idiot every time.”

You stare at him, trying to process this. All this time, all the hurt and embarrassment … it was just because he developed a crush?

“I’m so sorry for how I’ve treated you. I know it must seem like I despise you. The truth is, you make me feel like a stuttering teenager with my first crush again,” Charles continues, looking at you beseechingly. “I understand if you think I’m a total tool, and I have a lot of work to do to make this up to you. But I swear, I really do like you, Y/N.”

At this, his face splits into a sheepish grin, eyes twinkling with mirth. You feel a laugh bubble up in your chest as relief washes over you.

He doesn’t hate you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite! You appraise him, really looking at him for the first time. From his twinkling green eyes to his adorable dimples to the lock of chestnut hair falling across his forehead, he’s unbelievably charming.

You shake your head, smile growing. “So this whole time, you’ve just been acting like an awkward schoolboy instead of giving me any indication of your true feelings?”

Charles laughs self-consciously. “Embarrassing, I know. Look, I promise I’ll do better-”

“Yeah, you’ve got a lot to make up for,” you say, crossing your arms and giving Charles a playful but pointed look. “All the grief and heartache you’ve put me through the last two years? This calls for serious groveling, mister.”

Charles immediately drops to one knee dramatically. “Y/N Y/L/N, light of my life, apple of my eye. I am but a humble driver, unworthy of your affection. But if you would do me the extraordinary honor of allowing me to court you properly, I vow to spend every day showing you how enchanted I am by your wit, your beauty, and your strength.”

You can’t help but giggle at his over-the-top chivalrous display. “Oh get up, you goofball!” You grab his hand and pull him back to his feet. “I’m just teasing. Well, partially teasing. I do expect you to apologize to me properly. Take me to dinner or something.”

Charles visibly brightens. “Dinner? Really? Yes, absolutely! In fact, let me take you right now. We’ll go to that little trattoria down the road. You deserve to be wined and dined for putting up with me.”

You consider this for a moment, taking in his eager, handsome face. The truth is, despite his past behavior, you find yourself captivated by Charles now that you understand what was really going on. His confidence, talent, and intensity are wildly attractive. And the way he’s looking at you now, with softness and admiration in his eyes .... it sends tingles down your spine.

“Alright, lead the way, hot shot,” you say with a wink.

Charles’ grin stretches even wider, if possible. “After you,” he gestures forward with a flourish, then falls into step beside you as you head towards the exit.

“I really am sorry for being such an idiot around you,” Charles says quietly after a moment of walking in comfortable silence. “The way I’ve acted was totally unacceptable. You deserve so much better.”

You glance over at his earnest expression and feel a little pang in your chest. “It’s okay, really. I get it now. Just think how close we could have been this whole time though if you’d just … I don’t know, talked to me like a normal human being!”

Charles chuckles ruefully. “Oof, so true. Honestly, I’m impressed you didn’t write me off ages ago as a complete lost cause. Clearly you’re far more patient and forgiving than I deserve.”

“Yes, I really am,” you agree teasingly, giving his arm a playful shove. You both laugh as you reach the paddock exit and emerge out onto the bustling street, taking in the energy of the crowd.

You jokingly elbow Charles’ side. “Still though, as dashingly handsome as you may be, don’t think you’re completely off the hook! I expect to be wooed and romanced properly going forward. No more running off scared like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“It’s a deal,” Charles says easily, looking thrilled. “Romance and wooing, coming right up.”

Reaching the charming little restaurant, Charles opens the door for you with a sweeping bow. You grin and step inside. Somehow, you have the feeling this is going to be the start of a wonderful evening.

No more misunderstandings. Just the two of you, getting to know each other properly over a delicious meal with the slight chill of the evening settling in around you.

And you can’t wait.

***

The next few race weekends are a whirlwind as Charles seems to do a complete 180 in his behavior towards you.

Gone is the shy, nervous wreck who could barely look you in the eye. Instead, he goes full-steam in the opposite direction, seeking you out constantly and showering you with attention.

It starts the following week after Friday practice. You’re standing in the paddock scribbling notes when you sense someone approaching. Looking up, you see Charles striding over, helmet in hand, usual calm confidence exuding from him.

“Ah, Y/N, just the reporter I was looking for,” he says with a warm grin, sidling up beside you. “Walk with me?”

Flustered by his forwardness but flattered, you quickly nod. “Uh, sure!”

Charles immediately links his arm casually through yours and starts leading you away down the paddock, journalists and crew members glancing over with raised eyebrows. You catch Natalie’s eye and she mouths “WTF?” at you with a stunned look. You just give a tiny shrug, feeling your face heat up.

“So tell me, what did you think of my lap times today?” Charles asks once you’re a few paces away from the crowd.

You blink, surprised he’s looking for actual feedback. You decide to give an honest assessment. “Well, I think you were sliding the rear end quite a bit too much through Sector 2 and losing time. The car didn’t look fully settled-”

“Brilliant analysis as always, Y/N. I knew I could count on you to give it to me straight,” Charles interrupts with a respectful nod. You feel yourself preen slightly at his praise. “Some changes to differential settings should sort that out, I think.”

He then launches into a surprisingly technical explanation of his plans to adjust the setup. You find yourself nodding along, captivated, as he outlines the various weight transfer issues and how he aims to mitigate them.

He’s speaking to you like a true engineer, not just a reporter. You realize with a jolt that he’s never gone into this level of detail with you before in any interviews.

“Sorry, I’m rambling a bit here, aren’t I?” Charles says sheepishly when he pauses. “I don’t want to bore you with too much technical detail. But you just have such a good eye and ask such insightful questions, I find myself wanting to really dive into this side of racing with you.”

He gives your arm a soft squeeze. “Anyway, let me know if you have any other observations or advice. I trust your analysis completely.”

Before you can properly respond, the two of you round a corner only to nearly walk directly into Sergio Perez, who’s heading the opposite direction. He does a comical double take at seeing the two of you arm-in-arm together.

“Ah, hello Checo!” Charles says breezily, not releasing you or missing a beat. Sergio looks hilariously confused.

“Uh … hello?” is all he manages before Charles is steering you onwards.

“See you around, mate,” he tosses over his shoulder with a wink.

You glance back to see Sergio frozen in place, staring after you both looking utterly bewildered.

The weekend continues in this vein, with Charles constantly pulling you aside to chat at length about setups, strategies, even asking your opinion on development directions for next year’s car.

He treats you with the utmost seriousness and respect, like you’re one of his most trusted advisors. It’s shocking and flattering after the cold-shoulder treatment for so long.

Whenever the broadcast crew has a break, Charles inevitably finds you and whisks you off to look at telemetry data together (which sends a poor PR officer chasing after the two of you with an NDA after the first time Charles decides to pull you into the garage) or watch video, going into painstaking detail to get your thoughts.

By Sunday, it’s become a bit of a running joke among the team, with people exchanging amused glances whenever Charles appears to disappear with you once again.

“There goes Loverboy Sharl, dragging poor Y/N off yet again to pore over spreadsheets and onboard footage,” Natalie jokes with an eye roll during a break, making the crew laugh. “How does that man ever find time to, you know, actually race?”

You shoot her a heatless glare, though you have to admit — as sweet as it is having Charles’ undivided attention, as a reporter the over-accessibility is becoming a touch much.

When the race concludes later that afternoon, Charles immediately finds you amid the chaos of the media scrum.

“Y/N!” He beams down at you, still sweaty and in his racing suit with the top half unzipped. “Come take a look at the race data with me? I want to walk through my lap times and tire deg, see if we can spot any areas to improve ...”

“Actually, I’m sort of totally swamped right now,” you gesture at the sea of people around you. “But maybe later?”

His face falls slightly. “Oh. Well I suppose I did already monopolize a lot of your time this weekend. No rest for the media?”

He gives you a lopsided smile but there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. You feel a little stab of guilt.

“Tell you what though,” he continues, brightening again. “Come find me later before we fly out. I’ll have a surprise waiting for you.”

“A surprise?” You ask with a raised brow. “What does that mean?”

“Ah ah ah, no hints!” Charles laughs, wagging a finger. “Just trust me. Don’t leave without seeing me first, okay?”

With that, he leans in and unexpectedly gives you a swift peck on the cheek. You freeze, eyes going wide, feeling your face flame. Pulling back, Charles winks cheekily at you before turning and sauntering off.

Dazed, you lift a hand to touch the spot he kissed, feeling the heat radiating from your cheek. Did he really just … right out in the open like that … with the cameras recording live?

Glancing around, you see Natalie and a few other crew members staring with mouths agape. Toto Wolff is even giving you an amused look as he walks past, one eyebrow arched knowingly. Utterly mortified, you duck your head down and hurry off to find a quiet corner to collect yourself.

The next race sees the flirting and PDA ramp up even higher. Charles can’t seem to resist finding any excuse to drape an arm around your waist, stroke your arm, or playfully tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Every interaction has an undercurrent of flirtation and innuendo. And the cheek kisses become almost routine, pressed on you in front of other drivers, team bosses, cameramen, you name it.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” You finally say in flustered exasperation after he ambushes you with a very public, lingering kiss on the cheek in the paddock one day. You struggle to sound annoyed, but a pleased grin tugs at the corners of your mouth as you say it.

“Sorry, ma chérie, I just can’t seem to resist around you,” Charles replies, absolutely zero shame in his voice or demeanor. “You’re lucky I have more self-control than to start making out right here in front of everyone!”

You gasp and slap his arm, scandalized, as he just throws his head back and laughs heartily.

Meanwhile, the double-takes and stunned looks from everyone around just keep coming. Even the normally straight-faced Fred Vasseur can’t seem to hold back smug grins whenever he sees the two of you getting cozy.

“Go on and get a room already, you two!” He finally chuckles one day as Charles passes by in the paddock with his usual arm draped around your waist.

“Don’t tempt me!” Charles quips back without missing a beat, giving you a roguish wink.

Soon, literally everyone in the paddock and broadcast team is aware of and commenting on the developing romance between you and Charles.

He makes no attempt to hide it whatsoever.

“Honestly, I think they’re the most nauseatingly adorable couple I’ve ever seen,” Jenson Button jokes to the rest of the broadcast team one evening as they all watch Charles throw his arm around you yet again and plant a smacking kiss on your temple.

“The honeymoon phase never ends with those two,” Natalie agrees in a wry tone, rolling her eyes. “It’s like they’re a pair of horny teenagers making out behind the bleachers.”

You just shake your head with a bashful smile and accept the good-natured ribbing. The truth is, despite Charles’ very public displays of affection causing some embarrassment and teasing from your colleagues, you find it hard to truly mind.

There’s an earnestness and joy in his demeanor whenever he’s with you that makes your heart swell. You’ve never seen him so openly happy and carefree as these past few weeks. Gone is the tightly wound, intense competitor. In his place is a warm, playful soul who can’t help but let his delight in your company shine through.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find his romantic attentions flattering and thrilling. The way his gaze smolders when his eyes meet yours, the tingle of electricity you feel whenever his hand brushes yours, the butterflies that erupt in your stomach when his lips graze your cheek — it all makes you deliriously giddy, like a lovesick teenager yourself.

So you endure the good-natured eye rolls from Natalie and jokes from the broadcast crew with an easy smile. Because the truth is, you’ve realized how deeply you’ve fallen for Charles in return.

“You’ve got me utterly love drunk, you charming fool,” you murmur against his chest one evening.

The two of you are tucked away in a quiet corner, Charles’ back against the wall with his arms wrapped around you as you stand embraced, soaking in a few stolen moments of intimacy together.

“The feeling is mutual,” Charles replies easily, resting his chin on your head. “I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from this madness.” He pauses, absentmindedly stroking your back. “Honestly, I half expected you to get sick of me hanging around all the time by now.”

You pull back to meet his warm green eyes. “Are you kidding? I love having you around. I still have to pinch myself that you actually want to be with me after the way you treated me for so long!”

A flicker of regret passes across Charles’ features. “I truly am sorry for being such an ass before, Y/N. I hope with time you can forgive me.”

“Already forgiven,” you assure him softly. “We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Relief blossoms on his face and he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “Thank you, ma belle. For being the most patient and kind woman on earth.”

You grin, eyes fluttering closed as his breath tickles your skin. “Mmm, I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess I do possess some super-human tolerance for broody and aloof superstar drivers with commitment issues.”

Charles chuckles at that and you can feel the rumble of it against your body. “Lucky for me then, or I would still be utterly lost.”

His mouth finds yours then, soft and intoxicating. You melt into the kiss, savoring his warmth, his scent, the gentle stroke of his fingertips along your jaw. All semblance of poise escapes you when you’re pressed against Charles like this. He never fails to make your head spin and body thrum with want.

A polite cough from nearby causes you to break apart abruptly. You blink, dazed, to see Natalie standing with an eyebrow arched sky high.

“Hey lovebirds,” she says in a wry tone. “Sorry to disturb the sunset groping, but they’re calling for final broadcast checks in 10.”

Face flaming, you duck your head and extract yourself from Charles’ embrace. He just shoots Natalie a cheeky grin, entirely unabashed.

“Better get going then,” Charles says cheerfully, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “Wouldn’t want you to be late because of me … again.” He winks.

Natalie rolls her eyes hard. “Oh I’m sure that would be a first. See you in 10, Y/N.”

With that, she turns on her heel and heads back towards the pits. You glance up at Charles shyly.

“I should … uh ...” You gesture vaguely.

“Yes, yes of course,” Charles says, squeezing your hands affectionately. “Work calls. Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting around the next corner to steal more kisses as soon as you’re free.”

You laugh and give him a playful shove. “Go on then, you impossible man! I’ll see you in a bit.”

Heart fluttering, you watch him saunter off before heading for the pits yourself, still feeling delightfully dazed.

This is really your life now. Surrounded by racing, the thrill of competition, the roar of engines … and consumed by budding love every time Charles Leclerc is near.

As far as dream jobs go, you think with a lovestruck smile, you’ve really hit the jackpot.

2K notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 9 months

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☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo x yn #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #idk im sad and i love him #self indulgent slay #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted #angelshubnetwork

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simpjaes · 6 months

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FRENZY ៸៸៸ part one

Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect.

៸៸៸ part two here ៸៸៸ you must read both parts to get the full story

៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader

៸៸៸ minors dni

៸៸៸ wordcount: 33k (part two: 14.2k)

៸៸៸ genre: stalker au, dark fic, slow burn, smut

៸៸៸ content tags: switch!stalker jake, he is gross but on a plus side he’s got a big shlong, obsession, panty stealing/sniffing, toothbrush sucking, shower water tasting, jealousy, manipulation, past trauma involving sa of reader, reader is manipulated into being obsessed with him too, trauma, jake is very insane, he’s thinks you need him to fix you, reader can be lifted and carried by him.

៸៸៸ !WARNINGS! there is intense trauma, past abuse, and conflict in this fic. It’s dark with mentions of noncon and dubcon, and an instance where jake keeps going after reader faints. Everything is consenting between the two but only because he is manipulative and a bad person. if you can’t handle it, don't read it.

៸៸៸ a/n: this was way way way longer than I anticipated it to be but i mean…….it’s slow burn so take it or leave it. anyway, huge shout out to @drunkhazed for not only encouraging me to write this every time I lost steam for it, but even helping me work out some of the details. i hope this fic was worth the wait even tho tumblr is forcing me to post it in two parts.

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags for the whole fic, as in both chapters: masochism (jake), sadism (reader and jake), overstimulation, painful masturbation, praise, worship, dirty talk, blowjob, finger fucking, pussy eating, riding, missionary, mating press, standing up sex yayyyyy, huge giant fat cock jake, deep penetration, unprotected sex, implied breeding, choking, hair pulling, suffocation, cock warming, crying, begging, hate sex, hitting (m receiving), squirting

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s been days since he left his apartment. The skin around his fingernails have been chewed up, his eyes are red and heavy with sleep, and he still can’t bring himself to move from this spot. Disgusting as it may be, he loves it. It wasn’t like this before but that doesn’t matter too much to him right now.

The spot in front of his window has become his home within the apartment, a place where he can feel weightless and deserving of life’s pleasures. The sun is more bearable like this, the moon is prettier, even the rain sounds better now. The windowsill is lined with empty cans and food wrappers, a pile of laundry has been sitting in the corner since he started settling in this chair, and it’s gotten to the point now that nothing else in this apartment is of interest to him. Sleep comes easy in this chair too, so why move if he doesn’t have to?

He knows his last load of laundry is slowly molding over from not moving them into the dryer days ago, he knows his food is slowly going expired, and he’s aware now that bothering to wear clothes is pointless, they’ll just make the laundry pile bigger. He needs no distractions from this view, save for a quick bathroom trip and sprint to the front door to pick up his food orders. Each moment spent away from this space after five in the afternoon is a waste to him.

How did he get here? How did he get to this point in his life? You. You’re how he got here. It’s your fault for moving into the apartment next door, your fault for accepting a space within view of his bedroom window, and it’s your fault he waits all day for you to come home, learning your schedule day by day.

It started the day he forced himself out of bed. A Saturday afternoon. It was the first time he had the energy to do it after a month of barely moving, given that his recent breakup rendered him a shell of his former self. Recent to him anyway, it had been a year since she moved out, a year was like a day to him though. Time blurs when you’re shifting between resentment and numbness, and he really would have figured he'd have gotten over that breakup by then but he wasn’t. The words she last said to him resonated every minute of the day in his head, “he’s my brother!”, “you broke my phone?!”, “you’re fucking insane, Jake!”

It was a surprise to him that the man in her call log actually was her brother, but still a man at that and he didn’t like it. She was to be loyal to one man. Him. Only him. And she wasn’t, but none of that mattered to him after he got out of bed that Saturday afternoon.

When he stood to his feet and began to dig through his closet for a shirt that didn’t smell like stale depression, it was much the same as any other day when he had the energy to do this. This time though, he opened his blinds and nearly fell on his ass at the warm sun boring through his window at him. He stood there feeling the warmth for a moment before his eyes adjusted enough to look around at the lively streets below.

Even through his displeased huff, he stayed looking. If anyone cared to notice, this would be a good sign coming from him. One that shows that maybe he’s thinking about going out for once. Maybe he wants to call up an old friend that he hasn’t spoken to in almost a year and catch up on those lively streets. And you know, maybe that could have happened if it weren’t for the fact that something else catches his eye.

Directly across the street sits a much nicer apartment building, and in his direct line of sight is a large window with opened blinds. Inside, stood you. He didn’t know you at the time, of course he didn’t, but at that moment he instantly knew that he had to know you. It was like slow motion, a rush of euphoria streaming in his veins as he looked at you for the first time. After so long in a slump, resenting and vibrating hate toward an ex, seeing you was like a glass of cold water during a drought. Even from so far away he knew you had a pretty face. Even from here, he knew you’d want to meet him too.

An immediate attachment he felt, to a stranger across the street unknowing of his existence.

And that’s how he got to this point, growing so fond of watching you through that window day after day. It’s been weeks now since he started, and only the past two days have rendered him unable to move from the spot. He’s lucky his parents fund this apartment for him under the guise of him getting a degree that he no longer attends classes for. Because, well, he doesn’t want to miss a single moment with you. He’s growing so planted to this uncomfortable computer chair and barely caring because when you come home at five in the evening every day, this chair becomes much more comfortable to him. Almost as if it doesn’t exist, hell, he’s practically floating when he watches you.

It’s your own fault he’s like this. It’s your fault you leave those blinds open, it’s your fault for walking around in close to nothing within the safety of your own home. If you didn’t want him to watch you do it, surely you would have closed the blinds by now.

You’re practically inviting him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a given that within those weeks of watching you his obsession hit peak insanity by the time he ended up planted in place by the window. Now though, he’s making plans in his head, because he knows it’s not healthy to just watch. He knows he deserves more than just feeling himself up as he imagines being in that spacious apartment across the street with you. By now, the relief his hand offers pisses him off. He wonders more and more every day what you smell like, what you feel like, how warm you must be. He deserves to know.

Such a pretty girl all alone over there, maybe you need some protecting from the other strange men probably watching you too. Jake isn’t strange though, he just likes you. A lot. Enough now to leave this chair in front of the window when he knows you’ll be at work. Enough to actually get up and shower, enough to start working out again in front of that window just in case you arrive home early. Enough to know your schedule like the back of his hand. Enough to clean his apartment, to throw out his building piles of trash, to shave and touch up his grown out hair.

Enough to follow you to the grocery store and purchase the exact things you purchase, cooking later what he presumed to be your dinner and eating it with you there at the window.

It’s gotten to that point, where his confidence is high and he feels as though it’s time. It’s time to stop waiting around but he needs to know more about you before meeting you officially. That’s the only road block by this time and he can only think of one way to do this. After all, he doesn’t even know your name in order to look you up online.

So, its early Monday morning and he knows you’ve got work for at least eight hours and, well, he’s got a fucking need.

He watches you in the window before you leave for work, his room now dramatically different than before. Clean. He looks in the mirror, proud of the way he looks now with his stylishly messy hair and skin moisturized. You’d like him better like this, right?

He doesn’t even grab a bag to bring with him, because he knows if he forgets anything he brings, you’d take note of someone being there. You might become hyper aware, you might find out it was him in the future. There are too many risks in that. So, he just brings himself, which should be enough.

Going outside was an experience as it always was for him. He always feels so out of place and so entirely alone when he walks near other people. Always wondering if they see him too much or not at all. Thankfully, your apartment is just across the street and it’s a quick trip to get inside of the building. He knew the security here is trash, after all, he’s watched this building door for so long by now, that even if he were to be stopped, he’d know how to get inside anyway. He sees the side doors, the ladder in the alley way, all of it.

When he steps inside, part of him almost wants to turn back and purchase a small camera to hide in your apartment. He slaps himself on the forehead for not thinking of that sooner, but he’s already here so he might just have to take note of that for later.

With a polite smile he nods to a single security guard and receives a stern nod back. His insides are crawling with energy at how easy this is, and he feels fucking giddy. As he works his way up, entering wrong floor after wrong floor, he finally lands his feet on your floor. He can tell because he double checks, and then triple checks by looking out of the big hallway windows and finding his own apartment straight across the way.

He smiles wide at the apartment doors, noting the lack of code entry locks and finding simple turn-key locks. This is perfect, because he practiced a skill for this specific purpose. Lock-picking. He hopes it comes in handy as he pulls out his miniature tools.

That practice did come in handy, and he smiles to himself with a near sob of happiness at the sound of what he presumed to be your apartment door unlocking. Intelligent, that’s what he is.

He steps inside and instantly he is dizzy. He was right, he was fucking spot on. This is your apartment, and he can’t help but stand in the doorway frozen at the very thought that he fucking did it. He made it in and now your apartment is his for the next few hours if he so wishes.

The first thing he does is go to your window and gaze across the street. Seeing his own window from here felt surreal, thinking back to all of those nights he came undone to the thought of standing in this exact spot. His body reacts quickly to the space, twitching in his pants at the adrenaline he feels.

If there is anywhere in the world he could be right now, this would be the exact spot. He hasn’t felt this excited in a long time, even compared to when he first saw you and his heart went from rotting to filling with love. It’s hard at this moment for him to turn around and look somewhere other than his view of that all-too-familiar window of his, but he manages. He’s slow to turn around, taking in each breath with intention, every glance burning into his memory. From the open curtains, to the open blinds just behind them, to the dull color of the paint on your walls.

He smiles as he notes that your apartment is clean, almost obsessively so. It’s also much nicer compared to his own even when it was brand new. You seem to like candles, apple and sugar cookie scented candles. He can tell from the amount littered around the open living room and kitchen. The dull scent dragging his senses into euphoria. You also seem to like plants, you like shoes, you like plushies.

He nods as he takes note of everything in your apartment before sauntering out of the living space and toward the hallway. There, he enters the bathroom first.

Clean still, save for a pile of dirty clothes thrown carelessly into the corner. Before he focuses too much on that pile of clothing though, he stares at your shower, taking note of the other scents you’re drawn to before trailing his fingers along the shower wall. Still damp from your morning shower, he presumes. He lets himself feel the sensation of the droplets soaking his fingertips, running it along several areas of the wall before pulling his hand back. He looks at his glistening fingers for a few moments, preparing himself for a new sensation as he places his fingers to his lips. Sucking in the remnants of your shower and humming. Then, ecstatic with the taste, it’s easy for him to balance himself against the wall and bring his face close to a few more unbothered droplets, licking them into his mouth and relishing in the feeling of the cold shower wall against his tongue. His cheeks dampen through the act, and even when he pulls back for a moment, he can’t bear to wipe away the condensation.

It tastes like water, but it’s your water. And as he continues to suckle against the wall, he finally pulls back and places his fingers back into his mouth to suck off any last remaining droplets. His eyes now flick to that pile of laundry. Based on your cleanliness in the rest of the apartment, he assumes you’ll probably wash these later, which is a fucking waste. He confirms in his head the loss it would be not to take something, and so, he plans to.

Fingers still in his mouth, he fumbles with his other hand to shove each piece of clothing up to his face, inhaling the scent of your sleep because these were clearly the pajamas he saw you wearing last night. The scent is dull but he swears he can smell your skin on this fabric and it’s enough to cause another twitch in his pants. His cock already growing heavy and sensitive in the confines of his pants.

Finally, the pair of panties. Worn, crumpled on the floor in a presentation too beautiful to resist. He drops your shorts carelessly to grab at them, his fingers leaving his mouth just to smear across the seat of the garments before instantly he’s sighing out in a soft moan. Nuzzling his lips and nose into them, inhaling for an even longer time compared to the other articles of clothing. It’s as if he’s inhaling a deep hit from a blunt, the scent making him dizzy and entirely hot in the face. He could cry, honestly, as he dips his tongue out just for a moment to taste. Heightening his sensations of you. It was euphoric feeling them in his hand, against his face, in his mouth. Even more so with the scent of them, worn from the day and clearly needing a wash. It was relieving to him in some way, fondling the panties seems to push him further from the reality he’s in, sending his mind into colorful image after image of what these must have looked like clinging to your pussy.

He’s quick to stuff them into his pocket after he gets his fill, forgetting only for a moment that there’s more to explore and that he can’t just sit here all day and jerk off to a single pair of panties. He’s sure you have more for him somewhere. And with that, he moves his eyes to your bathroom counter.

Gazing at your toothbrush momentarily, he fights off the idea of taking that too. Ultimately deciding that you’d definitely think something was off if that went missing.This doesn’t prevent him from touching though, as he reaches forward and runs his fingers along the bristles. Just as suspected, it’s still damp too from your morning routine. The sensation of the bristles along his fingers is somehow more arousing than anything else right now, and it’s hard for him to hold back. His cock is now heavy in his pants, leaking against his zipper and begging to be let out. He holds back still though, even as he brings the toothbrush up to his lips much like your other items. He takes in a deep breath first before licking along the handle up to the bristles. Still tastes like toothpaste, and the taste is far too overpowering to be able to taste you. Still, his hips lunge forward against the counter as he tastes another part of you.

He stays like that for a while, hips pressing forward every few seconds in search of the friction his zipper offers, and your toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he rummages around your drawers and cabinets.

By the time he has searched every inch of your bathroom, he finally places your toothbrush back into its place and stares at it for a moment longer. If you continue to use it, it’s like you’re kissing him. He hopes you like it as much as he does. And just like that, his interest in the bathroom is gone. Excitement bubbles up yet again, knowing that he still has more of your space to explore for his own pleasure. He adjusts his length in his pants and sighs with a dazed smile and leaves the bathroom almost exactly as you left it.

Quietly, he goes further down the hallway. There's only one other room and he just knows that it’s your bedroom, that much is clear. You always keep these blinds closed but sometimes he can see your shadow when you turn on your light at night. This is where he wants to be right now, and upon opening that door, he’s immediately hit with another new scent. Home.

He doesn’t waste his time indulging himself here, throwing himself forward onto your bed, face down, and instantly groaning at the feeling of his sore cock hitting your mattress under his own weight. By this point, it’s weeping with pre-cum and staining his jeans with a large dampened spot. The feeling is so much to handle as he lays there trying to breathe through the raw feeling of how badly he wants to fuck something. How badly he wants to fuck you.

He laughs to himself in the bliss of your scent as he tears up, gripping your duvet and covering his face with it. He breathes heavily as his gleefully aroused tears begin to soak into the fabric. Then, because of course he would, he gags himself by stuffing that very same duvet past his lips. He closes his eyes now, imagining that you let him in, you’re here with him, you’re here under him. The scent of apples and cookies would be drenching the air, your panties would be wet and begging to be off of you. Fuck, he wants to consume these sheets the same way he wants to consume you.

Immediately, he sucks on the fabric with a lift to the corner of his lips, smiling as he tastes the closest thing in this apartment to your body save for the panties in his pocket. He feels like he’s floating right now, and he would be a fool to hold off any longer. He wants to have his way here, hoping that you don’t notice the stains he plans to leave behind. Hoping you sleep on them, hoping you sit your bare pussy against the same spot he intends to fuck as hard as he would fuck you.

He slides a hand down between his body and the mattress and dips into his pants with a visible shiver, finally offering himself relief. Long and slender fingers making their way around his length and instantly he’s unable to keep quiet. His eyebrows lift in relief at the feeling, rubbing his tongue raw against your duvet with his muffled moans, writhing wildly as he begins to fuck forward. His ears are ringing, his finger tips are burning against his own arousal, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so fucking happy in his life than he is right now.

As he continues, his wrist is being rubbed raw much like the head of his cock and his tongue. So many sensations come from the fabric you provide and, god, he loves it. He can’t help it when he aggressively shoves his pants down, allowing his pre-cum to spurt out of him, instantly staining your sheets and causing him to pick up the pace. Fucking against his hand and humping with no real rhythm.

His moans come out in short, muffled whimpers. Your blanket in his mouth makes the sound more pathetic than it already would have been, but he loves the way the sounds echo off of your walls. It’s like he was meant to be in this room doing this. Like this is the only room he should be intimate in, whether it be with himself or you. He wants to moan like this not just because of you but, for you. He wants you to play with him, he wants you to fucking destroy him, mocking his overly sensitive cock until he’s crying.

His mind is spinning as he fucks forward with these images in his head, the scent of you only drives him further and further from the reality at hand. He sobs only a little when he pushes the duvet out of his mouth, quickly replacing that with your pillow. He buries his face into it so hard that he nearly can’t breathe. The lack of oxygen hitting him second by second until he’s gasping for the same warm air that’s being trapped by the plush pillow, his orgasm bubbles up quickly with each jerk of his body.

Faster and faster he fucks into his palm, paying no mind to the burn on the under side of his cock that repeatedly rubs against the sheets. His muffled breath now comes out in short cries of laughter as he feels his release approaching. He chases it aggressively, violently. He wants his cock to fucking ache for you.

And it does, a mixture of searing heat and release hitting him all at once. He can’t breathe as his body stutters against your sheets, his pathetic cock continuously releasing a greedy amount just for you to sleep soundly in later.

Then he just lays there, feeling every last drop leave him and make a home within your sheets and mattress. All he can do is grin as he tries to catch his breath, rolling over and feeling his already-spent cock pulse at the cold air that hits it. He lifts his head to look down at it, noting how red it is even as it softens up. Again, he’s floating right now. He can’t believe he managed to get inside, he can’t believe he has your panties, he can’t believe he’s even tasted you.

Through his blissed out state, his eyes begin to travel around your room as he comes down from his high. Heart pounding still, he realizes he didn’t comprehend a single corner of this room the second he saw your bed. It was like he cared about nothing, it was like he died and went to heaven, and he wouldn’t have it any other way save for you being on this bed with him.

Then, his eyes land on your dresser and he’s careful when he stands up to balance himself, tucking his length half back into his pants and wincing at the sensitivity. Jackpot. Jake’s attention is solely focused on your dresser now, wobbling over and trying to pretend that his body isn’t still shaking from his recent orgasm.

He’s in a world of euphoria again, immediately after having gotten off so quickly within the sheets of your bed, and now as he rifles through your panty drawer, his sensitive cock is twitching with embarrassing interest. He laughs at himself and the way he could probably fuck you repeatedly for hours at this point. Never has he been so ready to come again a mere minute and a half after already having done it once. He holds off though, pocketing a few more pairs of your panties before turning his attention to your closet.

There, he notes the fashion you like, the shoes you have hidden probably for nights out, and…oh.

Sex toys.

He glares at them for a moment, wondering if you only have these because you’ve yet to realize how badly you’d want him to do it for you. This leads him to believe that you must be desperate for touch, for love, and surely he could make you feel better than a piece of soft rubber, surely you wouldn’t need these if you have him, right?

He grabs one with a huff and inspects it for use. Upon realizing this has been well loved by you, he removes the batteries and pockets those too, solely because he refuses any competition when it comes to you. Another mental note to find any and every battery in this apartment so that this toy becomes useless to you and your pussy. After all, you’re his now and it’s only a matter of time before you realize it.

He shakes his head in disappointment at his findings before tossing the toy back into the space he found it and turning his attention to your desk. After all, he’s lost all interest in this closet simply for containing items that offer you pleasure. At least at your desk, he might find some deeper information about you.

And God, it’s like you knew he was going to be here. He smiles, his heart swelling at your kindness of leaving your journal right here in the open for him. Inside is a page bookmarked with what he assumes to be junk mail.

There’s your full name though, glistening in the dark space of his brain that was dying to be filled with information about you. He whispers it to himself, loving the way the tip of his tongue tingles at the act of saying it out loud for the first time. His heart flutters as he runs his fingers along the plastic window of the envelope, repeating your name several times, as if to conjure your spirit up right here, right now, to bask in his post-orgasm glory of love for you.

He’s almost got all of the information he needs with this simple envelope. He knows exactly where you live obviously, your full name, what you like, your favorite scents, and now all he needs is–

He pauses as his eyes fall to the page marked in your journal, damn. It seems to be your most recent entry, and you really let it all out in these pages. His own ex-therapist suggested he start keeping journals too, but fuck no. That’s too much work for him. He doesn’t like giving himself that type of attention either, but thank god you keep one.

Your self written bible, with all the information in the world about you coming from your own hand, your own brain, is right here in the palm of his hand and it’s not hard for him to decide what to do with it.

Just like that, an hour passes as he starts from the beginning and works through your thoughts starting from early last year. Right around the time his ex-girlfriend left him, the bitch.

The deeper into this journal he goes, the more he learns. Intimate things, fucked up things. He almost laughs at your pain, how silly of you to love someone when he was here all along. You had your heart broken, met someone who fixed you, then he destroyed you even more than the first man. Silly you, choosing the wrong people and letting yourself be hurt enough to write about it.

It’s not until he reads what your recent ex did to you that he starts to really feel something. Anger. So much fucking anger that a man touched you like that. He hurt you like that, then left you feeling torn apart and, as you wrote, “dead inside”. The anger is so strong as he grips your journal and nearly crumples the page. He wants to rip it out, to erase it from your life so you forget it ever even happened. You wouldn’t need to remember all of this if you’d let him in.

But he can’t just rip this page from your life, because you’d notice. These are your deepest secrets, surely you’d be on high alert if something like this were to go missing. So, he opts to read it again, and again, and again, searing it into his memory like a mantra of you and your life. A mantra of why you need him, and why the universe is putting you in front of him.

Now, the further and further he reads, the pages are filled by this man who hurt you. He can practically smell the tears you shed when writing these shaky words. Detailing each painful touch, each emotion and moment of dissociation that happened to you during that time. There’s something about the way you write your pain that arouses him just as much as everything else you do.

Perhaps it's the anger of you being taken advantage of in that way, or perhaps it’s because he’s reading each fine detail and wishing he was you, and you were the ex. He wants you to hurt him the way you’ve been hurt, the thought alone is enough to make him fall deeper, and harder in love with you. He wants to feel everything you’ve felt.

In his mind, you’re doing this to him. He wants you to hurt him that way so badly. He wants you to have him broken and crying, with all the power in the world because it’s what you deserve. Because of him, you will forget what happened to you. He will fix you, and you will break him.

The more he reads, the more he fantasizes. It’s not your pain, it’s his now, except he would never tell you to stop. He’d be begging for more, more, more. In his head, yes, you’re on top of him and gagging him with your fingers so he can’t cry out. You’re the one hitting him and taking him for all he’s worth. You’re the one calling him dirty names and forcing a painful orgasm through his body.

The image in his head right now is so beautiful, and it’s all you. The man no longer exists in his thoughts as he stares down at your words, another flash of a smile crossing his lips as he snakes his hand down his pants for the second time, because this time he can’t resist it. The words appear more like an erotic novel rather than your own painful trauma. He finds it easy when he checks out of reality, each drag of his palm up his cock sending waves of warmth through his body with each new word he reads.

He likes the way you write “fuck”, he loves the way you write, “I deserved better.” He adores you so much, he wants you to say those things to him. Even if he would never hurt you, he would be more than willing to let you hurt him, to let you be the aggressor, to ruin him and make him bleed.

His fingers squeeze around his length harder as he feels his legs attempt to buckle. He allows himself to fall to his knees on your floor, gripping the journal like it’s his last life line in this world.

His eyes shoot across the paper and he’s biting against his bottom lip so hard that he can taste the metallic flavor of blood as he takes in every pen stroke. That taste of blood only becomes more obvious to him when he begins to whine at his own grip against his cock. It’s not enough, and it will never be enough until you’re the one ruining him. He grips tighter, bouncing up on his knees to chase the feeling as he works himself up, only briefly losing the ability to read when he rolls his eyes back at the desperate feeling of needing you here with him to hold onto. His entire body is burning up, pulsing aggressively, and yet, still shivering at the cold and lonely air within your apartment.

Then his eyes are right back down on your journal, his hips continuing to chase. He’s not alone, you’re here with him, you are surrounding him entirely right now. This is the air you breathe into, and the gasps he takes with the realization are deep and intentional as he swallows up the air in this room until it feels suffocating.

“Part of me wishes I wanted it, It would have hurt less, I think.” You had written one day last week.

He groans at your boldness, poking his tongue to his cheek with a frustrated moan.

“At least I left the city. Mom told me to change my number too, but I haven't done that yet. I hope he can never find me again.”

Jake smiles with a clenched jaw, because that man won’t ever find you again. Not with him by your side. He will protect you, he will make damn sure that any man who wants you can’t have you.

He edges himself for a bit this time, after having gotten off so quickly before. He wants this one to be drawn out, he wants it to fucking hurt, and it does already. His sensitive length is twitching against the pre-dampened denim it’s being restricted by, his knuckles are red and raw from hitting the zipper of his pants, and the inside of his lip is still bleeding. Finally, he skews his pants down just enough to let his length spring free.

The suffocating air of your apartment wraps around him so beautifully, and once again he’s shivering and letting out a chuckle. It feels so good. It feels so much better when he’s here and not stuck in his apartment. It feels amazing reading your words of pain, putting himself in your position and wishing so much for you to take this frustration out on him.

He edges, and edges. Fucking up, then strangling the base of his cock to prevent orgasm. God, it feels so hot, so good that it becomes harder each time he does it. Again and again, until the shadows of your curtains shift in position, until he feels like his head might explode, and that’s when he realizes he has been reading, sometimes the same page over and over again, for hours and at least an hour more fucking himself.

Surely you’ll be getting off from work soon, but he’s so close. He’s so, so, fucking close to you right now and he can’t bare to end it just yet. The images of your past burns in his gut, and despite being in your space, he truly is so far away. He cannot imagine your face up close, and only imagines the silhouette of you, the shape of you that he’s seen so many times before. Every image is from a street away, and still it’s so unfathomably arousing to think you could use him as your diary. You could whisper your painful little thoughts into his mouth and let him swallow them up, let him erase them from your life.

Take this rage out on him. Hit him. Make him suffer the way you did, he would love that. Giving you such an outlet, and loving it more and more each time.

He fucks up once, hard, and for the last time he squeezes against his weeping cock so tightly as if to prevent himself from releasing. His body can’t take it anymore though, he loses all control even through his tightened grip at the base of his cock. Still, he manages to focus his eyes down at your journal, placing it directly against the underside of his cock, and there, he lets go. Strings of white shooting out past the journal and onto your carpet, seeping in almost instantly as he lets out a long and choked out moan. Raspy and raw, he can barely recognize his own voice.

The sweat on his brow drips down as he shakes through the most intense orgasm he thinks he’s ever had, vibrating moans coming out as pained whimpers as he continues to pump himself empty against the pages of your trauma. Then, he pulls your journal up to his lips in a last attempt to show how desperate he is at this moment. He closes it, licking up the spine of the book before dropping it to the floor in exhaustion.

His mind and body has never been so stimulated by another person. Despite you not even being in this room to physically do it for him, he feels as though he’s just professed a profound love for you and you accepted it. He’s left himself all over your space, marking you, marking his territory, swearing to his shaking soul that he will never let another person touch you.

The only pain you should ever feel again is when your palms sting from swelling his skin before kissing it better.

As he sits, coming back to himself, still trembling from pleasure and overwhelming adoration, his eyes scan further around your room and note all of the little trinkets of personality you like to show to yourself.

A list of movies you’ve watched dangles, pinned on a cork board by your tv, and next to that is a list of movies you haven’t gotten to watch yet. On the other side of him is a bookshelf, containing a variety of novels, manga, magazines, cds, and even a few little figurines of characters that must bring you comfort.

All of these things, the scents you like, the colors you like, the books, movies, shows, music. It burns into his memory the same way you did when he first saw you.

It doesn’t matter that his body feels weak at this moment, his mind will never be calm when he’s thinking of you. These forms of entertainment are now his favorite things. His fingers struggle to pull out his phone, and struggle more to find his notes app.

There, he stays for an hour more. Typing and retyping everything he can see, smell, and touch. Every single movie, every single music disk, every single manga, magazine, and book. He will love them as much as he loves you, and he will be the person you seem to need so badly in your life.

And then, as he glances up to the tiny, bastard of a digital block on his phone, reality sets in. He needs to leave now.

Thankfully enough, you’re right on schedule as usual. He’s crossing the street to his own apartment when he catches the scent of you carried by the wind, and right there, he glances. For the first time seeing you a little closer than usual.

He doesn’t know if you look happy, sad, or exhausted, all he knows is that you’re truly a feast for his eyes as he stares a few moments too long and you make eye contact with him.

Then….you smile.

You smile at him, with a small wave as you walk through the building’s doors with not a clue in the world that the kind faced, handsome, stranger you just made eye contact with was worshiping the very air you breathe.

For him, that smile managed to ignite something else in him that he didn’t even know he had. Perhaps a feeling of confirmation? No, maybe it was validation? Either way, the pep in his step is at least an inch higher than it’s ever been as he makes his way up to his home, and finds himself right back at the window.

He feels satisfied, happy, and maybe even a bit sleepy as he watches you from across the street. Standing where he just stood, disappearing to what he now knows is the bathroom.

With all the new information, surely it won’t be the last or only time he’ll be in that room with or without you. Now, he can meet you as the best version of himself. The best version of the person you would love.

Perhaps now, he can accidentally run into you enough times that you’ll have no choice but to face an introduction, and right then and there, he will be the perfect man for you. You’ll invite him in, you’ll share all of those secrets with him, and you will love him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Buying a camera was easy, and setting it up against his window so that he never had to risk missing a single second with you was even easier. Especially because now he had studying to do.

Movies, shows, music, books, all of it. He delved in for days, living the lives of other people through the media you seemed to love so much. Through all of it, he paid most attention to the romantic aspect of each bit of entertainment you seem to enjoy the most in your free time.

He learns how these men kiss their significant others, he studies how they look at each other and express their emotions. In the music, he listens and anticipates that he can make you feel better than these songs do. In the books, even the horror related ones, he focuses on the emotional aspect and forces himself to learn these expressions.

Love and hate aren’t the only two emotions he should be feeling, but they are for the most part. Save for things like jealousy, arousal, and entitlement. He needs to learn sympathy. Empathy, passion, contentedness, melancholy. There is a vast array of emotions he needs to master, and he can’t help but feel like that’ll just take far too long.

As he is, he loves you. As you are, he loves you. You should love him the same, and you will love him the same. After all, he already loves the same movies, books, and music. What else could you possibly ask for from him, outside of a burning loyalty driven by passion? Outside of never laying a hand on you, nor letting another person within ten feet of you if you so much as blink at him lovingly?

It’s as if weeks passed when he started watching you through the recorded footage. Really though, it’s only been a week because he can still smell the scent of you on those dainty little panties each time he wraps them around his sore cock. They satisfy him plenty when he uses your other, cleaner garments that he took from your dresser against his lips.

Each night since he was in your apartment, he’s fucked into these panties, remembering the taste of your shower water and toothpaste, and each night he grows more and more weary of when he can have more.

Still, these panties are getting him through this difficult period of down time, the anticipation that soon enough, you’ll smile at him again is enough to not jump for the opportunity to get back into your apartment just yet. Because soon, you’ll probably invite him in next time too, maybe even let him taste you rather than a simple remnant of you.

Even your social media drives him to learn quicker. It’s private, of course, and all he has to go off of is that pixelated image of you, your interests, the burning images of your trauma, your name, age, address, and used panties. Sure, he’s satisfied for the time being but he knows for a fact that this “content” feeling will only continue to fade away and be replaced with the intense need to just fucking meet you.

He knows you’re hiding from someone, and that someone just so happens to not be him. So, he’s the one man in the world you could ever hope to meet anyway. A protector, a lover, a fierce defender and an outlet for all of your pain.

And oh, what great news is it that just a mere two days later that content feeling does, indeed, run out! Not only does he feel well equipped to be your forever soulmate, but when he looks at himself in the mirror, still fond of now trimming and taking care of himself, he’s gotta say that he plays the part well on both fronts.

It’s another Saturday afternoon, this time he takes the time to sit by the window and watch the shadow of you through that closed bedroom curtain. He wonders how often you wash your sheets, or clean your carpet, or lose your batteries to your stupid fucking sex toys.

Surely the remnants of him are still there, surely you’re used to his scent by now. You won’t be afraid when he steps out around the same time you do. You definitely won’t think it’s strange that he just so happens to be grocery shopping too, or that he’s needing the same ingredients you are needing. Maybe you’ll like it when he brushes his hand against yours when going for the same tomato.

He’s confident, and he’s ready. That’s for sure.

What he wasn’t ready for though, is how outgoing you are.

Naturally, he smells you before he sees you. Hyper aware that every person on the street that isn’t you just ends up invisible to him anyway. He doesn’t intentionally walk into you, acting as if he’s going the opposite way. Except he does.

The first touch of your body to his is nothing but a mere “accident”. The soft padding of your jacket collides with his hoodie, and still he swears he could feel the blood pumping through your veins at that moment. His entire body erupts in goosebumps at the first touch, he sighs out at the intentional mishap, not yet making eye contact with you.

He falls back only slightly, raising his hands in defense and mock apology. Right there on the street, not even a block from the two buildings both of you call home.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even–” He goes to say, mind blanking the moment he does look at you, and you look back at him.

You’re right there. He can feel your energy hit him in the chest, as if that little collision was nothing less than a car hitting him at full speed. His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your image up close for the first time.

You look….frail. Not like a sickly-frail, but the kind of frail that only comes with emotional baggage. You look sleepy, with your cold cheeks and watering eyes from the icy wind hitting them. So badly does he want to grip you and pull you into his chest. He wants to hold you, he wants to keep you warm, he wants to kiss those shivering lips and hold those shaking hands.

You’re a mere foot away from him and his heart is already exploding. Standing in awe, oblivious to the fact that he has lost his ability to control the situation upon looking at you, because now all he can think about is giving you everything in the world.

Then, you glance away from him and speak.

“No, no.” You look to the ground after that brief eye contact and seem to shy away from the interaction. “I shouldn’t have been looking at my phone.” You continue to stare at the ground, gripping your bag close to you out of instinct rather than fear or anxiety.

“Likewise.” Jake smiles, trying to refrain composure and softening his voice. Still, he burns the image of you into his corneas and memorizes the pitch of your voice. “Hey…” He adds, trailing off a bit and dipping his head to draw your eyes up to him in a friendly way.

“I think I’ve seen you before, do you live around here?”

You pause. He’s just a friendly stranger with a tender voice but the brief glimpse you had of him did seem familiar.

“You seem kind of familiar too?” You question, easing your tense body and looking up at him with another smile, this time more awkward. Mostly because you definitely avoided his question.

“Huh, small world.” He shrugs, offering little to no context to that statement before shifting the balance on his feet and stiffening at the harsh wind that picks up.

This is the moment in which any normal person would say their goodbyes, last apologies, and be on their way. Jake is too in love to comprehend what normal people would do though.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I forgot my wallet at home and was running back to grab it before the market gets packed with college kids trying to buy all of their weekend alcohol. I really didn’t mean to run into you like that.”

God, he feels like a robot saying it. He did mean to run into you, and he didn’t forget his wallet.

“Oh! I’m actually on my way to the store.” You admit, trying to appreciate his explanation and press the idea of forgiving and forgetting. “So you live close by then?” You add, feeling better asking him where he lives rather than stating your own place of residence.

“Yeah, I live over there.” He points at the building across from yours, silently taking a step closer.

The chill in the air is harsh, but the way you don’t move back from him is much softer and easier to swallow as a man on a mission.

When you perk up at recognizing his apartment building, it’s very telling. Well, to him it is, but to anyone else he could assume they wouldn’t have picked up on that slight blink of surprise he caught.

“Huh,” You state casually. “Well, I’m going to go pick up some groceries too. I walk this same way back, do you want me to spot you on your groceries as my own apology for not paying attention?”

Partially, you do this because you want to be alone, and upon meeting this man who is running the same errand as you, you think you may feel too awkward to go through your daily plan running into him again. Plus, he lives right across from you, and you find yourself not wanting him to know where you live.

To him though, outgoing may be an understatement. You’re offering to not only shop for him, but to drop it off at the desk? You’re inviting yourself into his space?!

“Don’t be silly, I’ll just run and grab my wallet and I’ll be right back out. I can help you carry your things. It’s not safe for a lady to be walking alone on a Saturday anyway.” He assures you, stiffening up his shoulders in the wind and smiling at you.

You don’t know how to reject his offer, as awkward as it is, and somehow as comforting as it is. Solely because he just confirmed your silent anxieties about being in this city alone. You do this walk to the market every weekend, and despite you slowly becoming accustomed to the area, you never truly feel safe doing it alone.

Should you reject the offer and go back home? You have enough snacks to last you the night and you can just go to the market tomorrow. And even with those thoughts in your head, you wonder why you nod to him, and you wonder why you step back toward the building behind you and lean against it as if you’ll wait for him.

You shiver at the wind as he nods to you and jogs to the very same building he pointed out before disappearing inside of it, and all you can do is internally panic at how pathetic you are. You should not be inviting this random man to walk with you, or to carry your things for you. He’s going to know where you live. What if your ex set this up? You wouldn’t put it past him for a second.

Then you think a little deeper…perhaps you’re comforted by this man’s calm and somewhat genuine kindness. You’re not amazing at reading people, clearly, but he seems to be kind. Still, you’re too afraid to tell another person “no” these days out of fear that they will be angry.

You’re now hyper aware of your surroundings, wondering if the threat looms elsewhere, or if you just invited the threat to walk you to the supermarket.

You have no choice but to take the chance though, with the way he mentioned that you shouldn’t be walking alone on a weekend. You’d be paranoid with or without a stranger escorting you, especially after returning home from work last week and swearing your apartment felt different. Your anxiety regarding your ex is at an all time high.

Should you even want to reject this small situation of possible safety? It’s still known, to you at least, that your ex hasn’t been able to find you, nor has he texted or called you since your first week of living in this city.

Finally, you decide to just try and relax. If you show your fear, perhaps this man will turn on a dime and take advantage like everyone tends to do with you. Even if you don’t remember leaving your apartment door unlocked last week, even if you don’t remember misplacing your batteries for a particular item in your closet.

You can’t just assume every new, kind, and handsome face is working with your ex. You can’t just let your fear continue to control your life.

At least with this new face, and the security in your building being well aware of your safety concerns, you nor your personal space could be violated inside of your own home at the very least.

Outside though? On the streets with dozens of others? The risk is high, and you aren’t even sure if you have the capability to run fast enough or react fast enough with the little safety keychain you keep in your hand, buried in your puffy jacket pocket.

By this point, you’re more afraid to walk alone than you are to walk with this nameless man. Saying no to him would only result in another evening walk full of paranoia, then again, walking with him still brings a whole different type of paranoia. That is, until he comes running back up to you with that same warm smile, hands tucked into his hoodie, and the promise of some sort of protection at least for this grocery run.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“So,” Jake starts after several long minutes of walking with you in silence. “Do you always walk alone at night?”

You nod to him quietly, about to say something before he sighs and shakes his head.

“That’s brave. You must be new to this side of town because it’s not exactly the safest for you to just be wandering around by yourself.”

It’s obvious to Jake that this is only a half truth, but he knows what you’re running from by being here and he can’t help but ensure future endeavors with you, even if just to have you need him each time you leave your apartment. He would gladly walk you to the moon and back if you so much as considered it an option.

“Oh, really?” You respond with slight distress. “I moved here because of the safety ratings. I wasn’t aware that it was an actual concern outside of me just worrying too much.”

He picks up on it.

“Every city is dangerous if you think about it. You know where my building is if you need it though. Just let me know if you ever need someone to usher you back and forth.”

You scoff almost, laughing at the implication that you’d consider that an option.

“Please, that would be so inconvenient and inconsiderate for me to do. Besides, I have this nifty little keychain!” You smile, trying to make light of the situation and the anxiety his words of your bravery are bringing to you.

“That is pretty nifty,” He laughs, eyeing your keychain and watching you put it back into your pocket. “Can’t imagine that keychain would stop anyone though.” He adds with a light and casual tone, only because he knows that the keychain couldn’t stop him. “Plus, it’s not inconsiderate. I’m much more effective than that keychain of yours.”

There is a deep fear instilled in you at his words, ones that make you curl in on yourself internally. Maybe you really couldn’t protect yourself without someone next to you. You slow your pace for a moment and consider his words. Pepper spray, a seatbelt cutter, taser, and a pair of pointy claws won’t do a damn thing for you if you end up frozen on the spot at a threat. Which is something you know yourself to do when danger rises. Perhaps this stranger is right about that, and if he’s offering, maybe it won’t be so embarrassing to actually follow up on that, especially if he proves to simply be a kind and concerned neighbor.

Then again, maybe he’s just being nice and doesn’t want you to genuinely expect that from him.

“Can I know the name of the person willing to escort me to and fro?” You try to play it off as a joke with a sweet and calm tone to your voice, thankful that you’ve become an expert at hiding your fear by now, but he stutters in response. Stopping in his tracks and deadpan staring at you.

“Oh my god, how rude of me.” The same smile, the same soft voice, and now– and extended hand to you. “I’m Jake, and I fully expect you to require my assistance at any time, any day, when you feel it may not be safe for you to be out here alone.”

“What the fuck?” You comment without full intent, reaching for his hand and gripping it in yours.

It’s…delightfully warm.

“Hm?” He perks up a brow. “What was that?”

“It’s like you can read my mind or something.” You laugh, now releasing his hand and feeling far more comfortable walking with him, and possibly accepting his offer.

“I’ve been told that before, you know.”

Good fucking lord, the feeling of you gripping his hand was something that could have sent him straight to an asylum. Cold hands, warm smile, a reluctant tone in your voice– he sees you size him up, and god, fuck, did he see you just accept him for all that he is at this moment. He broke past your first wall, he could see it in your eyes when they flickered for just a moment.

“I bet you have.” You confirm for him, now giving him your name and looking up at him. The dim streetlights and remnants of the setting sun sure do put this moment on a pedestal in your head for some reason.

Your first friend in this city. Surprisingly it’s a man, and even more surprisingly, he seems to be entirely in tune with every single anxiety you have about life right now without even fucking knowing it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The immediate night after you willingly led a kind stranger to the front of your apartment building, seemingly right across the street from his own, was the moment you realized that for the first time in years, you really did feel safe.

Jake, this new person who appeared out of thin air walking right into you and somehow, into your life as well, is safe. With the well-bleached hair peeking from his hoodie, tired eyes, and the blushed cold air on his face doing nothing more than highlighting his features, you didn’t want to admit the immediate attraction to him.

In fact, those feelings of instant attraction are what got you into that mess with your ex. It’s what you’re running from now, and what you were intending to avoid. It’s in your nature to want to be around an attractive person, sure, but is it so strange to lean in so quickly when said attractive person lives across the street and offers you convenient means to feel even safer? You’re not jumping into an immediate relationship or anything by feeling safe around him. You don’t know him well enough, but for some reason, all you need to know to satisfy you is that he’s not out to take from you. He didn’t seem to need or want more, even in those long moments of silence standing beside him in the supermarket.

If anything, Jake, himself, is a new safety measure you intend to use for yourself, even as a last resort. Not because his smile is charming, or his voice is soft. Definitely not because his fashion sense seems to be well thought out, and his clothes hang against his body as if he had a real life filter consistently maintaining that every angle of his face and body remains perfect.

It’s because he offered it. Point. Blank. Period. You, unfortunately, are not in any position to deny that it’s what you need either. You know for a fact that your ex is still asking around for you and trying to figure out where you live. Not to get back together, but just to let you know that he’s around, and he always will be for as long as you live.

So, Naturally, the days leading up to running into this man was a whirlwind of paranoia for you. Nothing that even your heavy doses of medication could calm, yet, he managed to do it on that simple fifteen minute walk to the grocery store, and that somehow quicker fifteen minute walk back home.

That happy shocked sigh he let out at learning you live right across from him, was weirdly comforting too. As if he was just as relieved as you were that he knew he could at least keep an eye on you if you needed him to. Like he would be willing to call you at three in the morning if he so much as saw suspicious activity outside of your building. Plus, you were debating at the time lying to him about where you live just to comfort yourself, and you’re glad you didn’t.

It caught your attention, and you find yourself longingly looking out of your window today, scanning the building across from you and wondering which one of those rooms would be the most safe for you. Your mother’s voice muffled through your phone as your eyes wander, and a smile forms at her words.

“Don’t you think it’s too soon to be putting your trust into a complete stranger? Honey, I don’t want to watch–”

“I know, Mom. Really, it’s not like that. I barely know the guy but don’t you think it’s a good thing that I have a neighbor now? One that’s willing to walk with me so I’m not alone out here?”

There’s silence on your mother’s end for a few moments before she sighs.

“It does make me feel at ease, I admit,” She starts, sounding as if she’s going to cry. “I just want you to be careful. And– I want you to tell me things if anything were to happen. I don’t want you to keep anything from me anymore.”

You sigh now, more in a defeated and sad way as your eyes trail down to the door of Jake’s building and notice him stepping out and heading down the street.

“I won’t hide anything anymore. The last thing I want is to go through that again, but I’m healing. Really, every day feels a little better, a little safer.” You back up from your window and smile again, grabbing your coat and slipping on your shoes. “I gotta go though. I love you, Mom.”

You don’t hang up until you hear her say it back, and then you’re out the door to catch up to him. Unsure of why you’re doing it, and ultimately choosing to ignore the fact that you were staring at his building.

Jake, on the other hand, has been reeling for days. Though, more careful now when he watches you. He even moved his camera slightly, hiding it better since he’s caught you staring out the window at his building multiple times.

It’s confirmation that, at the very least, you think about him.

“Hey!”

At first, he thought that voice was his imagination like always. He ignores it, relishing in how well he managed to remember that little rasp you have sometimes when the wind blows like this. Given, he’s only walked with you once to and from the grocery store, the weather was much the same, and your voice cracked a few times in your words to him.

“Jake, Wait up!”

He hears it closer now, followed by the sound of foot steps and….fuck. It’s you. You’re really running after him as he makes his way to the local mall, all to buy the next book on his list from your bedroom.

“Hey?!” He turns to you, unable to control his glee at the turn of events.

For once, after all this time of him watching you, you’re approaching him without prompting and it only took one official meeting.

So naive. You do need protection.

“What’re you doing here looking so warm?” Jake adds, outstretching his arms and watching you pause at the invitation for a hug. “Too soon?” He lets his arms fall before stuffing his hands back in his pocket.

You panic only for a moment, realizing you definitely need an excuse to be chasing him down like this solely because you crave that short instance of safety he offered you once before. Sadly, you have no excuse. You had nowhere to be today, nor any plans to leave your apartment at all and yet, here you are, avoiding his hug and yet still wanting to stand in front of him.

“Oh,” You instantly come up with a lie. “I was running out to the market again because I forgot to buy something.”

Jake perks up even more at the idea that he could walk you to and from the market, and possibly even offer that you come with him to the mall. Maybe this is the perfect time to bring up the book you’ve already read, that he, apparently, so desperately wants to read too.

“What did you forget?” He asks playfully, noting in his head that maybe you’re a forgetful person. Which is kind of cute.

“Uh–” You pause, breaking eye contact and blurting out a random item. “Milk.”

Well, that was a lie and he definitely knows it. He carried that jug of milk that was not forgotten back to your apartment for you. In fact, he hadn’t worked out his arms in a while due to his focus on his abs and stomach that he even felt a little sore due to how long he was carrying it, all while the wind was freezing his fingers to ice for you.

“Ah, should we go grab you some milk then?”

You don’t think twice before you nod, sighing in relief that the lie was taken at face value and not realizing for a moment that you just impeded on whatever plan he had prior to you interrupting him.

“Okay, can we stop somewhere else first? If you want?” He eases into the question, studying your expression and loving every moment of it. Craving to be close to you, even just to stare. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I can always just grab milk on my way home and drop it.”

Oh, you were being rude. Only now realizing how you eagerly transformed his errand into your errand.

“My god, I’m sorry. You’re clearly busy today, it’s okay. I can grab milk later!” You say in a rushed huff, already backing away and trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment.

You really do cling. Your ex was right about that, and it makes you uncomfortable.

“Wait, no!” He panics, fumbling in a step toward you to close the distance again, feeling far too uncomfortable with how you step away from him. “I’m just headed to the mall real quick to grab a book I’ve been wanting to read. Just a quick in and out, then we can grab your milk. I’ve been wanting to see you again anyway!”

Jake thinks that may have been too forward for any normal person to say outright, but it’s true. He so desperately wanted to see you again. Up close. He needed to see you again.

You pause your step, turning back to face him and unintentionally scanning his outfit that day. He’s somehow even more handsome than he was the night you met him, nose slightly red from the cold weather and shoulders stiffened as if he’s trying to hide from the open wind.

He takes intense note of the way your eyes scan him, and there is an unintentional twitch in his pants at the way you don’t grimace at him. He knew you wouldn’t, after all, he does all of this for you. He’s clean shaved and dressing better because of you.

“Book? What book?” You ask delightfully, being an avid reader yourself. Of course you’re interested in connecting on a level that isn’t just safety with him.

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it but it’s called ‘[redacted]’.” He side eyes only slightly at the anticipated response from you. It was…a bit different than he expected.

You laugh at him. Genuinely, you’re laughing at him, with a snort and all. A laugh that he would argue is cute if it weren’t for the fact that he feels like this could be the first time he fucks up with you. He doesn’t want you to laugh at him for reading this book. He wants you to love that he wants to read it. Its one you wrote on your list, why are you laughing?

“Wait, you’re serious?” You deadpan, standing stiff and shocked. “Even I wouldn’t admit to having already read that very book…” Your eyes trail off before you smile.

You sense that he’s gone rigid not from the weather, but from your mocking and you lighten up instantly.

“I just didn’t expect to meet such a handsome guy who reads about a woman who…well, you know.”

It’s like you could do no wrong as Jake’s eyes tune into yours and you see a sense of sparkle in them. You’d never understand how that simple, off-hand compliment to him is making his heart spiral up, down, and all over behind his ribcage.

Physically, he can feel his body react to you addressing him as handsome. As if he doesn’t react the same way any time you look at him, or speak to him, or come near him at all. You think he’s handsome. You just admitted it, and he can’t help but already feel high, like he’s on top of the world over it. You must like to look at him, much like how he loves to watch you.

Still, he knows he needs to play it cool despite how in love with you he is right now. You’re the one who seems eager, which means he’s done his part for now, and your chase for him is just beginning. If he comments on your compliment, you’d think of him as too eager. Too ready. As if he had some underlying reason to continue speaking with you.

Plus, Jake actually has no idea what the book is about, but he was very willing to find out today when he got home. You, however, seem to be keen on discussing it.

“Know what? I only want to read it because it was recommended to me by someone.” He lies.

Your face falters.

“Oh, was this someone a girl?” You don’t look up, nor do you realize that the two of you have started walking toward the mall regardless of the insecure conversation at hand.

“Ah, well, maybe.” Jake chuckles.

He’s in love with you, he’s so in love with that disappointed sound in your voice when you asked him that. He could even, perhaps, sense a bit of jealousy. So soon too? Already? He knew he was right, he was made for you and he couldn’t be happier knowing that you’re picking up on it.

“A girlfriend?” You pry unintentionally, noting how that book is generally geared toward a female audience who would only ever read a few passages to a man if they were, well, into that sort of dynamic.

“Why do you ask?” Jake encourages you to boost his ego even more, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“The book is about a woman who kind of, kills men and eats them, among…other things.”

Oh, wow. He loves you so much right now, even if you spoiled the story for him.

“Interesting. What makes you think my girlfriend would ask me to read that?”

“It certainly wouldn’t be a brother or best dude friend recommending it to you, let’s be real.”

Jake raises his hands in mock defense, ready to see if this makes you like him even more.

“Alright, I’ll admit. I knew what it was about–” He’s lying. “No one actually recommended it to me, I just didn’t expect you to have already read the book, nor did I expect to have to explain myself why I want to read it.”

“Explain away, Jakey, we got a bit of a walk ahead.”

A nickname?! Already? You're entirely naive and in need of him being beside you. God, what would have happened if some other cunning liar appeared to walk into you and offer to escort you back and forth? You would have swooned the same fucking way! Anyone with eyes can see that you’re flirting, and anyone with a dick can see that he’s eating it up faster than you’re able to put it out for him.

Regardless of if you seem too quick to trust, he’s proud that it’s him who got to you first, because now no one else will ever get the chance to even consider it.

“Oh, I’ve got a nickname now? That must mean you like me.” He offers you a sort of drunken dopey smile, only because he feels drunk. Like a lost puppy just invited into a warm and caring pair of arms, really.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re the one going to fulfill your fantasies about–” You try to joke as if he’s one of your best friends from highschool. You remember when you were able to freely have a sense of humor, but before you can finish your joke, you pause, realizing that despite mocking the book and his interest in it, you still don’t know him on a level to do this. Nor should you have given him a nickname so soon. God, how stupid could you be? “Nevermind, I actually have the book if you want to borrow it.”

You have issues getting too close, too fast. You’re already clinging, watching his building without full intention, and chasing after him down the street simply to speak to him. You don’t know where this feeling inside of you comes from but you can argue that it’s solely due to the comfort he brings to you. You don’t know anyone else in this fucking city save for a few co-workers. When you moved here, you promised that you’d keep to yourself until you heal and feel safe on your own again.

Yet, here you are. Clinging to the handsome man who lives across the street. Clinging to a fucking man. Again.

And you know, even though the two of you are already halfway to the mall by now, he doesn’t mind that you didn’t bring up borrowing the book until now. He was prepared to buy it, and even more prepared to see where your eye wandered just to learn about more of your interests within the rows of books.

“Really?” He smiles and tilts his head at you, turning both of you around with a gentle touch to your arm, very nearly wanting to snake his hand into your pocket and hold your fingers against his. “That’s great, let’s go get you some milk then!”

And you know, when he waited in the lobby of your apartment, you almost invited him upstairs to your actual space. You didn’t though. And when you handed him the book, and he handed you that milk, only then did you realize that one of the jugs of milk in your possession will have to spoil…and it sure as fuck won’t be the one he just handed to you.

Why? Because you create silly little attachments to the rare moments in your life when you’re happy. This jug of milk is a representation of a lie he accepted, as well as him accepting you and your silly ways of making it through the day.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The panties.

The scent is dull as he reads and rereads passages of a book that many would consider improper for anyone to even write, let alone publish. Every victim is him, and everyone, everything else is you.

It’s hard not to be aroused when you so readily invited yourself to be around him that day. Even now having your number, the self control he needs to not frantically text you that he’s in love with you is eating him from the inside out.

The panties. Still offering the most private part of you but no longer being enough. The camera, offering glimpses of your alone time within a space you don’t quite realize has been shared with him. The taste of your shower wall, your toothbrush, the smell of your clothes, the softness of your sheets, and the trauma within your written words— none of it is enough anymore.

And now, the book, offering plenty to the imagination, turning the pages as if he were playing with your skin, still not enough to satiate him any longer. Nothing could ever satiate the need within him to love you to his full extent or to have you love him back. Especially after having already met you, after feeling your hand against his in that brief handshake, after hearing your sweet voice say words for him to hear and him alone.

Has he not waited long enough for more? He’s seen you up close and personal, he knows all of your interests that you display, he knows your voice, knows your footsteps— still, he can’t get the feeling out of his mind. What it felt like to stand in the spot within your apartment that ultimately led to his even deeper love for you. His confirmation that he loves you, even.

And now? Texting is easy when he feels this desperate to get to you again. He doesn’t care to be overwhelming to you because he is overwhelmed. You’re the one who approached him last time too, so if anything, the universe is on his side and he fucking knows it. He can feel it in the air with each little breeze that flows past that little crack in his window. He can smell your shampoo with each cold gust of wintery air, and see your reflection in each little snowflake that falls.

He wants you to chase him again, so bad. Only so that he knows he can chase you harder now.

Jake: hey so i read the book, are you free today?

The way you immediately respond is telling.

You: what did you think? insane story, right?

Jake: not sure if you wanna have this conversation over text…

You: it’s ok, i figured you had some freaky fantasies if you wanted to read that, im not gonna blackmail you or anything

Jake smiles, he’d let you blackmail him any day of the week.

Jake: hmmm what does that say about you then?

You: anyway, im a bit busy today but maybe we can catch up tomorrow?

No, no no. Tomorrow is centuries away. He knows you’re home, he can fucking see you over there, he can smell you, he can sense you. Not to mention, he’s not an idiot, he can see the way you avoid certain conversations and steer the direction despite making the same joke yourself.

Silly, silly girl, thinking he can’t read you. If anything, he’d think by now that if you’re really so afraid of the world, or him, or anyone else, you’d have closed those fucking blinds by now. You haven’t though, have you?

Maybe you know people watch you. Maybe you love it, hoping that he’s the one doing it. Maybe you’re some sort of exhibitionist. Maybe that’s the reason you read that fucking book. Maybe that’s why you were trapped in your relationship before.

There has to be a reason for it at the end of the day, and he hopes that it’s him. You love his jokes, and your avoidance is only further proof that he’s breaking past your little sad and pathetically thin walls. You’d probably love to know he watches you, that he protects you even when you don’t think he’s around.

And yet, you’re busy today?

Guess he will be busy too, then, as he stands to his feet and begins to dress himself while texting you.

Jake: Oh, you’re busy? That sucks, i guess i’ll find somethin else to do today then

You: I know :( ill make it up to you soon, promise!

The buzzing in his brain and need for you is too strong to stay away. That little promise means the world to him, especially because you’ll be making it up to him sooner than you anticipate. You can be busy all you want, but that’s not to say he can’t accidentally end up at the same place as you, right?

Besides, what if your ex comes around? What if some guy gives you unwanted attention and there’s no one there to defend you? After all, his body reacts with euphoria each time he has gotten the chance to be with you, and he craves that feeling once again. You’re going to give it to him, not anyone else.

Jake: alright, be safe today...

You: always am!

Jake: text me when you make it home safe

You freeze as you read his words, feeling something in your stomach flip. You can’t tell if it’s butterflies or anxiety. Still, you find yourself smiling and your face feeling a bit fuzzy.

He wants you to be safe. That’s more than you could ever ask from someone, because god knows you’ve always managed to find yourself in the most unsafe situations with very little effort.

You: ok!!! ill text you when i get home so you know I didn’t get run over or something

Jake: it’s more just to make sure someone doesnt kidnap and take advantage of you lol

You freeze again, this time fully aware of the anxiety in your belly.

Jake: pretty girls like you gotta be more careful, so don’t stay out too late or ill worry

For a second, you almost wanted to cancel your plans. For just a second, you felt good today. You felt safer than usual.

You: i’ll come home before sundown….thanks

Jake smiles, hoping you recognize the risk you put yourself in each time you leave your apartment without him beside you. Thankfully though, you will never be without him again if he can stand it.

Besides, you suck at safety. Following you around is far too easy, and popping up when you least expect it is even easier.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Spotted you.

There you are, with that same puffy jacket he’s grown used to seeing you in considering he only ever really gets to see you outside and on a cold day. In that puffy jacket, you’re walking into a local coffee shop and his eyes sharpen at the image of you through the window.

The barista takes your order with too much interest, in his opinion. He can see you not take notice on how everyone in this city wants to take you from him. He wants you to notice so bad, he wants you to only want his eyes on you, and to only want his voice in your ear.

He breathes in the icy air, bottom lip shivering only a little bit at the idea that other people look at you the same way he does, even more so the fact that you might be here to meet someone that isn’t him. You might have friends, and he knows better than anyone that you do not need friends. They’re always out to get you anyway, you should be here with him, not someone else.

He breathes a sigh of relief followed by a heavy shiver when he sees you take a seat alone, and he dips away slightly when you glance out of the window as if you’re trying to be aware of your surroundings.

With him around, you don’t need to pay attention to the things around you, he’s hyper aware for you. He could tell your coffee was finished before your name was even called to alert you.

Honestly, he’s so hyper aware of each person who walks into that coffee shop after you. He sets themself up for failure in his head. Each person gets a stare of daggers, because what if they’re here to meet you? What if you’re trying to make friends? What if you’re trying to date? After all, this little errand must be important to you considering you told him you were too busy to see him.

His eyes continue to fall back on the barista though, staring at the line of sight this man offers to you every few moments. As if he wants to catch you looking at him too, as if he wants you to give him a reason to talk to you, as if he is a better option than Jake himself could be.

There is a hate within him at this moment as he seethes outside of the cafe window, staring down his competition. He almost completely forgot to look at you until he felt a rush of air push past him and he notes two people walking into the cafe now.

As he comes back to reality and leaves his little realm of hate for the handsome barista at the counter, his worst nightmares are confirmed. Not only a woman walks in and takes a seat at your table, but a man too. You hug them. You hug him.

Why is everyone all over his girl today? His heart drops. His quivering bottom lip intensifies with the wind, the temperature mimicking the feeling in his heart as he watches you touch other people, and spend time with them. He really, really, needs to know who these people are and why they’re close enough to hug you like that.

He pats his chest through his hoodie with a breath in an attempt to rid himself of the stress weighing on him, and then straightens out his back before taking one last deep breath and making his way inside of the cafe, straight up to the counter.

There, he tries to balance his breathing as he makes eye contact with the very same barista that keeps pushing dangerously close to a boundary line. His name tag states the name “Jay”, and Jake can’t help but grimace and roll his eyes at how similar their names are.

He grimaces more at hearing the man speak to him, as if he has all the right in the world to exist on the other side of that counter after staring at you the way he did.

“Sir? Can I–” The barista repeats himself for a third time, feeling small under the gaze of the customer in front of him.

“Just a shot of espresso.” Jake dead-pans, still glaring at the man.

The barista nods awkwardly, shifting his eyes to you on instinct now that he’s done it probably a million times since you’ve walked in. He’s noticed you for weeks, he can’t help it.

Jake, on the other hand lets out a deep and angry sigh from his nose as he tosses his card onto the counter, clearing his throat at the barista.

“You seem to have an eye for girls.” Jake lightens up, holding up the short line of one person behind him.

“Oh–” The barista laughs shyly, “am I that obvious?” he adds, dipping his head down as he slides the card through the machine and turns the screen back to his customer.

“Unfortunately.” Jake narrows his eyes at him, intentionally and violently clicking the number 0 for this asshole’s tip. “and I’d suggest you contain yourself, because that’s my girlfriend you’re drooling over.”

And then he walks away, ignoring the way the presumed “Jay” looks at him in embarrassment. He can tell he wants to apologize, and rightfully so. Jake does deserve an apology for how shameless this idiot was, but he doesn’t let him as he makes his way down the counter leans against it with his palms, facing away from you and pretending he can’t sense your warmth from here.

And then he starts counting in his head.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…..Thirteen….Twenty si-

“Jake?”

His heart immediately swells at the way you’d recognize him anywhere, even if he’s facing away from you and he makes sure to make eye contact with the barista when they both perk up at your voice calling out a name. He watches the confirmation in Jay’s eyes click, the confirmation that he is never to look at you again.

And still, Jake’s heart swells even more in this instance because he could recognize you too, even if you’re faced away from him. Still, he has to keep his cool. One, to make sure he doesn’t appear too eager to see you, as if he definitely followed you here. Two, so the barista doesn’t see his lie. And three, so he doesn’t snap right here, right now over the fact that you hugged someone that isn’t him. Two someones that aren’t him.

He doesn’t want to interrogate you so immediately, he wants you to give him the answers yourself as to who these people are.

He pretends to not hear you as he stands facing away from you and grabbing his espresso from the barista who avoids eye contact.

Jake gives a small and fake nod to the barista, as if to show you that he didn’t say anything out of pocket to him. As if to show you that he definitely didn’t just claim you as his girlfriend so the freak behind the counter doesn’t try anything with you.

Then he turns to eye the room, looking for an empty seat, avoiding the corner where you’re blatantly staring at him.

“Jake!” You wave your hands to get his attention, standing up half way as if to stand out from the crowd of puffy jackets and warmed cheeks.

His eyes land on you, where they rightfully belong and he notes the smile on your face upon seeing him.

Oh, so you did want to see him today. You didn’t smile like that at the barista, or to the people in front of you. There’s another confirmation within him in reaction to this, that soon enough, what he said to the barista won’t be a lie. In fact, it gives him the confidence to push for it now more than ever.

He raises a brow in mock-surprise to see you before shooting you a half wave, moving his eyes to other areas as if to imply he doesn’t want to intrude. As if to say he isn’t here with you intentionally.

And then you wave again, raising your voice a bit and saying his name yet again. His eyes land back on you, and the way you pat the seat next to you.

Perfect. Yes, invite him. Prove to everyone who you belong to. Prove who it is you want to see right now, who you want to sit by, who you want to look at. And then, tell him who the fuck these people are. Explain why you hugged them, and why they’re somehow more important than he is.

As he heads over, bowing politely to the man and woman sitting across from you, he seats himself next you to closely. So close that he can feel the friction of your jacket against his hoodie, and immediately his skin is raised in goosebumps as he looks at you and your bright eyes.

He wants to lay claim to you so badly. He wants everyone to know that you are his, and he is yours.

“Such a huge city and still we manage to run into each other–” Jake chuckles playfully, looking at you with a soft and gentle smile before glancing at these strangers across from him. “If we keep meeting like this I might just have to ask you on a date.”

He says it like it’s final, like he’s laying that claim he wants so badly. As he says it, he looks the man that you’re with dead in the eye with exuding charm and confidence. Still, the way you shift awkwardly next to him doesn’t go unnoticed as he turns back to you and takes a sip of his drink.

“Would that be something you’d be interested in?” He whispers gleefully to you, saying it as if it’s a joke because the people across from him lend you both a smile and a laugh at his blatant and forward words.

“Jake, this is my mom.” You finally speak out to avoid his question, watching him attach his lips to the hot cup of espresso he ordered, as if to only breathe in the warmth of it. “And this is my uncle.”

Jake immediately stands and bows politely. He appears panicked, embarrassed, to everyone else in the room. He’s not though. Not at all. He is relieved to know that now is his chance to make some sort of impression, now is when he should show his best side. All worry of who these people in front of you are is thrown out the window for the time being, actually. He feels like he’s on top of the world, killing two birds with one stone almost. Or three, if you count Jay.

If he can get your family to like him the same way he got you to like him, maybe you’d be more inclined to circle back around to his half-joke of taking you on a date.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He stutters, not looking the two in the eyes. “I must have sounded so rude just now, I didn’t mean to intrude–” He continued, only to be cut off by your mother.

“Don’t mind us, Jake, is it?” She says kindly, glancing to you and then back at Jake. “You must be the boy with the pretty smile who she mentioned the other day.”

Jake does take note of your mother’s reluctance to accept him immediately, and given your past, he guesses that would make sense. Her kind words and smile does not match her eyes when she speaks to him initially, but he’s going to change that now.

Besides, his heart just grew four sizes bigger at your mother outing you to him. You said you like his smile? You said it’s pretty? Fuck, he’ll show you pretty.

“I can only hope so.” He responds, turning to you and smiling even bigger, noting the way you curl in on yourself in discomfort at the awkward situation. “Always so shy, don’t worry, I think your smile is even prettier.”

And then Jake trails his eyes to your uncle, proud of the way he felt you shiver at his words.

The man simply judges him, then looks at you with a raised brow.

“Jake helped me carry my groceries, he lives across the street from me.” You say, feeling stupid and small in the way your mother just fucking embarrassed you in front of the only person you like being around in this city. Still, that judgment from your uncle is called for, you think, and you’ve got to calm his worry for you somehow.

“Couldn’t just let her carry all that back herself, afterall.” Jake shrugs. “I was raised to know better.”

Both your mother and uncle nod, going silent for a few moments.

Then, as if Jake isn’t even here, your mother prompts the conversation that the three of you must have been having before Jake came over.

“So, have you decided yet?” Your mother asks with no context for Jake to pick up on.

“Yeah, actually–” You look down, then slightly press your leg against him from under the table.

As much as you’d prefer this rather telling conversation not to happen in front of Jake, you reluctantly speak in a way that gives little to no context.

His heart explodes at that simple touch though, ears going deaf from any words you’re saying anyway, and he very nearly shoves his hand under the table to place upon that very same leg.

Somehow, he holds back, his hand shaking inches above your leg before forcing it back into his own hoodie pocket.

“I’d like to stay here.” You say confidently now, looking at both your mother and uncle.

Your mother nods with a smile, your uncle following her reaction.

“I think I feel safe enough for now.”

Jake wants so bad to confirm that you’re safe with him, despite knowing exactly what you’re talking about within an instant when he definitely shouldn’t know.

“Well, you know there’s always a room at home for you if you need to come back–” Your mother seems reluctant to say too much, looking over to Jake with a smile that becomes more genuine. “Keep an eye on her, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

He knows you’d appreciate it and he has gone above and beyond in terms of keeping an eye on you. It’s like, he’s fucking perfect for you.

Jake nods to her.

“I’ll do my best.” Jake smiles, now shifting his body up and standing back to his feet. “Well, I’ll leave you guys alone.” He continues, now looking at you. “Text me when you get home safe.”

And as he walks away with a triumphant and hidden smile, your mother immediately smiles at you in the same way. Seemingly lightening up about Jake as a whole, briefly anyway.

“Text him when you get home safe, huh?” Your mother pries, kicking you gently under the table and watching you squirm and release the blushing mess that you’ve tried to hold within you for the past few minutes.

“Ah, yeah, um–” You try to speak, unable to explain the safe feeling you feel around Jake. You’re not sure if it’s a crush, or if it’s just you taking advantage of someone who is being kind. “He’s kind of already been watching out for me, so that's partially why I’m choosing to stay here.”

Your mother nods.

“I can admit that he’s cute–”

You nod to yourself at those words before your uncle interrupts.

“And polite.” he adds, sipping his strong coffee and offering a look of possible approval.

You dead-pan stare at both of them, knowing exactly where this conversation is going.

“He likes you.” Your mother continues shortly, looking away from you and not allowing you to hush her of the motherly-instinct. “I’m just saying, honey, please be careful. I know he’s cute, and polite, and seemingly safe. But I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

You look down with internal confirmation.

“It’s okay to live a little, go on that date with him, but go somewhere public first.” She continues. “Don’t move too fast, you’re still–”

Everything is overwhelming in this moment. Especially when the truth is put into words and offered to you by the two people you trust most.

“Healing.” You look down at the table as you finish her sentence for her, thinking of how close Jake was sitting next to you. Wishing he was still next to you because somehow, you felt more safe with him than you do your own family right now.

“Don’t sit there and act like I don’t know how you act when you’re being shy about a boy…” Your mom adds to the silence, quirking a brow and looking to her brother. “You’ve still got your pepper spray if you need to use it.”

“It’s not that I’m worried he would like, be like him.” You interject. “ I just don’t know if I’m ready to act on a stupid crush so quickly.”

“That’s good, and I’m glad he makes you feel safe. Just please hold onto that feeling, don’t rush just because a cute boy is carrying your groceries.” Your mother starts again, only to be cut off.

“Okay, okay. Can we talk about something else now?” You roll your eyes.

Your mother keeps to herself after this, and all you have in your head is wondering how and why your mother seems to partially advocate for this man after a mere ten minutes of meeting him. You can see her try to keep you safe despite her distance from this city, yet she seems to be hoping that Jake is a legitimate defense system for you too. It’s as if she’s looking for comfort in him as well.

She’s never been one to approve of your crushes either, but somehow, this time is different. And these days? You trust her intuition better than your own.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You: i made it home safe

Jake: good, im really glad. sorry for accidentally ruining your plans today

God, if there’s anything Jake should be sorry for, it’s not that.

You: it’s ok, i was happy to see you.

You: my mom seemed to like you

Jake’s cheeks burn reading that as he goes from staring out his window to looking at the screen of his phone. He can tell that as soon as you got home, you headed for your bathroom and you must be in there right now readying yourself for your evening routine, possibly even naked before a shower to text him.

It’s not strange at all that he knows you’re over there all alone, texting him. His body reacts like it always does, and he’s already snaking a hand down his pants just to rub against himself to satiate his body and keep it under control for a bit longer.

Jake: woah really? how so?

You type to him almost immediately after each of his responses.

You: idk, they commented on how you asked me on a date or whatever, thinking it was serious.

Jake: i was serious

You pause, standing at your bathroom sink with your toothbrush in your mouth when a smile creeps across your face. It feels like the first time you ever got asked on a date in highschool, and that little dance of happiness would have been fucking embarrassing if he were to see it.

Even worse than your reaction to that, your mother would be terrified to know how you shift entirely when you’re alone and talking to Jake. She would faint knowing that you intend to immediately go on a date with him, and she would immediately wake up and faint again knowing that you find yourself letting your guard down entirely around him as well.

It’s safe to say that, maybe you definitely have a crush on him. Why else would you react this way to how forward he is? Why else are you somehow so willing to go on a date with him despite wanting to stay as far away from relationships as possible?

Why is he so fucking irresistible? Why is he making you feel this way?

You: you were?

Jake: yea, what are you doing rn?

He’s typing with one hand, legs spread wide while he slouches in his chair and skews his head to stare through your empty window. He thinks back to the day he stood in your living room looking down at his own window. You could come into your living room now and watch his body jerk with each movement of his palm against himself, phone in hand as he texts you and know exactly what you do to him.

Each passing moment between his last text to now doesn’t bother him as he works himself up, chewing on his bottom lip and focusing even more on that lit up room across the street, feeling the familiar arousal bubble in his belly as he rips his hand away to grab that same pair of panties he stole from you. There, he shoves them down his pants along with his hand, groaning at the fabric stretching around him like they always do.

So soft, so gentle.

As for you though, you’re feeling the panic flow through you as you stare in the mirror at your reflection. Right now? He wants to go right now? You just washed your face, and you were about to take a shower.

You: bout to take a shower, why?

He groans more at your typed words, remembering the taste of that shower wall, imagining your pretty face with little droplets of water running down it. Imagining droplets of other things running down it. God, his confidence is so high, he’s so fucking horny right now, and he still manages to text you with that one shaking hand.

Jake: ill come get you right now, i want to go on a date with you

Jake: can i?

His persistence shows his interest in you and it’s so attractive to you right now. Immediately you find yourself spitting, rinsing your toothbrush, and wiping your mouth clean before opening your makeup box again.

You: right now?

Jake: right now.

You: can you give me like twenty minutes?

There are explosions surrounding him right now, or rather, a very intense orgasm. He scored a date with you and he feels the confirmation run straight through his body and out the head of his cock, all over your panties, his hand, and his pants. And god, he’s a little frustrated that he spent so long trying not to get his own cum on your panties, solely to keep more of that scent of you, but he fucking got a date.

Who cares? He can surely just snatch another pair, possibly right off your legs.

After all, you asked for twenty minutes surely to try and look nice for him. Fuck, that means you want him to look at you the way he always has been. He wonders if you’ll do something different with your makeup, or if you’ll put on a different kind of outfit. All for him.

Finally for him. For him. For him.

Jake: of course, text me when you’re ready

And then, he just watches as his body makes an attempt to relax. The way you wisp back and forth like a ghost through your apartment, rushing to find something to put on. Even from here he can see you smiling. Running around in a bra and panties, he moans slightly, almost considering fucking his cum into your panties again but ultimately choosing to stand and change him. Mostly because he sees you think hard about your outfit. The way you throw on a shirt only to take it off and slip on a dress instead, despite the cold weather.

He’s going to give you that same effort, eyes glued to his window as he blindly searches his closet by touch alone.

He wants to text you again after you run your hands down your stomach in that dress you put on, he wants to tell you to keep it on. He wants to tell you how pretty your matching pair of bra and panties look under it. He wants to say so much, do so much, and containing it is so fucking hard.

Yet, still, he manages.

When you stand in your living room, that same dress still on, he watches you throw a jacket over it, he can’t help but wonder if you could sense his hope that you’d wear that. He wants to have a reason to keep you warm, a reason to put his palms on your legs to warm them up, a reason to be close to you. After all, this is a date, you’re inviting him to be close to you, right?

And then his phone buzzes and he struggles to tear his eyes from the image of you standing there with your phone in your hand.

You: okay, im ready!

Jake immediately sighs, staring up at the ceiling to get his body to calm down. His dick is twitching wildly in his pants again, his hands are sweating, his entire body is vibrating. It’s finally happening.

You’re going on a date with him, and he’s had the perfect place planned and in his mind since the first day he met you from your window.

He’s quick to throw on an outfit, slip on his shoes, and run out his door.

Jake: on my way outside now, meet me in your lobby in 5

You’re fucking beaming. For the first time in a long time feeling like you may be the luckiest person in the world. There is no pain within you as your butterflies overtake every amount of angst you had about meeting someone under circumstances of dating.

You’re here to get away from your ex, not to fucking ban yourself from having a good time. You want to have fun. You want to stop being afraid.

And god, Jake is like, the perfect guy for it.

You enter the lobby to find him standing proudly against the wall, propped up in a lazy way and already looking at you with a dopey grin. He looks flushed, proud, and happy. Arguably, he’s even more attractive now than you ever thought he was before and instantly, you’re ten times more shy than you’ve ever been.

“There she is,” He smiles, spreading his arms out to invite you into a hug like he tried to do before, and he’s shocked that you step into his grasp. “was starting to worry I was too forward.” He adds, immediately burying his face against your neck.

You smile against his chest in the hug, feeling so warm for the first time in your life. A warmth that comes from something other than rage or tears. Already, you can feel your body shiver at the way his arms wrap tightly around you in a hug that doesn’t feel condemning.

You don’t feel trapped against another person, and it’s a welcome change.

“You definitely were a bit too forward but–” You pause, stepping out of his grasp and feeling the empty air replace his arms. “It made me feel better about liking it.”

Jake gives a reassuring smile before lending his hand to you and instantly intertwining his fingers with yours, shoving them into his hoodie pocket, and dragging you close to him before leading you out of the building. He’s reeling from the hug, feeling the way your breasts pressed up against him, the way you sighed against him, and the way you smelled while you did it.

God damn.

In his head, that hug from you felt better than any sex he’s ever had to date. His entire body reacted as to be expected, to the point he was thankful that you weren’t as close in the hug from the waist down as he wished you would have been. You would have felt that reaction, you would know how you wake his entire body up.

Thankfully, the cold air outside lends him a hand in taming his lower half, and also lends your hand to him to keep warm.

“Where are we going?” You ask out, voice gentle in the night air, unaware of how the man next to you is buzzing from his feet to the top of his ears.

He’s struggling not to lose his mind.

He can see your breath, and wants to swallow it. Each huff and puff, each word, he can visually see it in this icy night, and he knows it has to be warm despite the minty toothpaste he can smell on you.

God, he knows what your mouth tastes like, the smell sending shivers down his spine at the reminder of how he sucked your essence off of the bristles you must have used just minutes before now. He wants to kiss you, he wants to kiss your breath, he wants to devour the air and aura that surrounds you when you’re next to him.

Honestly, the cold weather does not freeze his bones. He feels entirely hot, leading you to his favorite place in the city.

“Nothing big, I assume you ate with your family so I figured we could skip the regular date stuff. I want to take you somewhere quiet and pretty.” He looks over at you, hoping you see how much he adores you.

Somehow, you do notice something in his eye. A shine, a glint. It’s something you’ve never seen in any pair of eyes that looked at you. His pupils seem to be dilated and his eyes almost look black, still, that smile reaches those same dark eyes, indicating to you that he is happy.

He looks happy to be with you right now.

And on any other day, a man you barely know saying he’s taking you somewhere “quiet” would scare you. But….you’re not scared. You’re looking forward to it, actually.

He gives your fingers a squeeze as he waits for you to speak back to him, leading you easily through the city streets.

“Quiet and pretty?” You say, looking up at him. “Does this place happen to have a heater?”

It doesn’t. But that’s what he’s for.

“Unfortunately, no, but–” He goes to say, and you stop walking for a second. “I was going to say I could keep you warm, I mean, if you want. If not, I can take you somewhere else.”

You look down, weighing the options on whether you want to be that close to him so immediately, or if you’d rather follow the general rule of dates. Dinner, movie, goodnight kiss. You already hugged him, and you can admit to liking the way his arms hugged you. Maybe you’re not entirely against the idea, despite feeling alarm bells deep in your brain go off, telling you that you’re moving too fast.

And then you wonder why you start walking again, and why you’re imagining him holding you close, huddling your body against his to keep you from shaking. Intimacy. You’re thinking of intimacy.

Why does it feel good? Why does the thought excite you?

“You’ll keep me warm?” You reluctantly ask, your fingers twitching in his within that hoodie pocket.

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re comfortable with that. I don’t want to seem too forward–” His fingers squeeze yours tighter, as if to comfort you.

You sigh, chuckling.

“Like I said, I like that you’re forward— just, no funny business okay? This is a date, not a hookup.”

Jake pauses, glancing away.

As much as he’d love to lay you down against cold, moon-lit grass and taste the entirety of your body. As much as he wants to hear you call out to him, feel you react to him, he knows what’s inside of your head better than you do, he knows he needs to tame that need for now. The fact alone that you even imagined it for a second, just to find out if you want that now, just to tell him that you don’t want it yet, is enough to satisfy him.

It won't be long until you’re asking for it anyway.

Plus, he would never do anything to you without your consent. If he’s allowed to keep you warm tonight, that alone is better than anything he could ask to experience.

“No funny business.” He uses his other hand to hold out a pinky to you. “Jesus, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

Suddenly, you feel guilty as you take his pinky into your own and seal those words into a promise. Jake picks up on the way your face falls.

“I haven’t been on a date in over a year. Been avoiding it if I’m being honest,” He starts to explain as a way to soothe you, guiding you gently through a large gate. As if to connect with you on your level of discomfort. “My last relationship ended pretty badly, I didn’t think I’d ever want to date again.”

You perk up at his words, looking at him as he guides the two of you through a dark and grassy area. You can still tell his eyes are shining as he shares this with you, making you feel special and….not alone in your anxieties about this.

“I don’t know what it is about you, or why I immediately want to skip all of the casual shit when it comes to dates but, this is where I wanted to bring you.” He smiles when he stops you, standing in front of you and grabbing your other hand, holding it, and shoving it into his hoodie pocket alongside the other. “Not because I was trying to come onto you. If I was going to do that, I would've asked you to come home with me.”

You feel his icy knuckles and squeeze his hand hard to try and warm it up. Maybe to comfort him, or to thank him?

“I didn’t even bring my ex here. I actually came here to get away from her sometimes.”

You look away when the blood rushes to your cheeks at the way he’s talking to you. He’s acting like the two of you have been on at least ten dates by now, but it’s only been one.

Somehow, some way, you lean into it. Into him.

“My last relationship wasn’t very good either. Was so bad that I actually find it hard to believe that I’m on a date with someone right now, I still don’t even know if I’d know how to love again.”

You pause, closing your lips tightly and feeling awkward for saying the L word so fast like that. Implying that you don’t know if you could love Jake.

“Would you feel better knowing that I’m not asking you to think of the future?” He offers, slowly lowering himself and pulling you to the bare ground with him.

The dirt is cold, but Jake is warm.

“Just worry about how you feel today, when you’re with me. If you’re enjoying it, there’s no reason to worry about what you might feel–” He reaches for you to turn you around and drag you onto his lap before quickly enveloping you into his arms. “Or what you might not feel.” He pauses with a squeeze against you. “Is this okay?”

You don’t understand why it’s okay that he’s being so touchy, but he is warm, and any shiver that threatened to hit you now only comes in the form of butterflies seeping out of every pore on your body. He’s pulled you into his lap as if to keep you from having to sit on a blanket-less ground, and his arms are around you as if to remind you that blankets only exist for people who don’t have him.

It takes so much self control not to pull away when you feel his chest breathing against your back, but it takes even more self control to not turn around and cling onto him in the same way. You’ve wanted to feel safe so badly, for so long. You wanted to feel this way on your own though, without the need to lean on someone else.

You’ve never wanted to be a damsel in distress, but goddamn are you fucking distressed. Your trust issues run deep, so fucking deep. Anyone can see that you are a broken person, but not everyone would accept you for it.

Jake, right behind you, right under you, holding you so close like this the moment you’d let him? He accepts you entirely, and it’s so enticing to you. You can’t turn away from it, you’d only fail yourself.

You’re so fucking drawn to him, no matter how forward or blatant he is.

“This is a bit overwhelming,” You start, pulling away from him slightly and turning to look at him. But then you see his face, and how sincere he looks. “But I’ll try to appreciate how I feel right now.”

“Does that mean you’re okay with this?” Jake whispers, pulling you back against him and pressing his face against your shoulder, breathing in deep to get that scent of you into his lungs.

You don’t notice the way he does it when you nod in response, and the way he’s entirely enamored with you at this moment. He wouldn’t be able to let you go if you asked him to, not when your body is relaxing against him and you’re letting out a small hum of cautious approval.

“Are you warm?” He continues, shifting his legs only slightly from under you, mostly to make sure you’re coat is offering enough padding under you to keep from feeling the blood pumping in his pants right now. And then, his hands move from his hug down to your legs, big warm palms not moving from the expanse just above your knees, instantly warming you.

He can feel your shivers calm, and your regret for wearing this dress die.

You nod again, still cautious but also wanting to fight the fear within you so that you can really just enjoy this moment of closeness with someone else. Even if you just met him. Even if you’re afraid. His hands feel like they belong there, as you stare at the way he doesn’t move them higher or lower. They’re really just there to keep you warm, and surprisingly, you don’t know if you could ever feel cold around him at this point.

“I'm scared of this, you know?” You comment into the night after a few moments of silence, reluctantly holding onto his wrist, pushing them down your leg a bit as if to imply he should rub them.

He follows your movement, wincing from behind you in a hidden attempt to contain the fact that he very much wanted to moan at that. Feeling your legs against his palm feels so….igniting to him.

“I know.” Jake says in a matter of fact tone, confident in his words as he bores holes into the revealed skin of your leg when he moves his hands back and forth.

“You do?” You lift to turn and look at him, but his hands instantly move to your shoulders as he turns you away from him, forcing you back against him in a tight hug.

Mostly because you do not need to see his face right now, he knows he looks fucking gone.

“Anyone can see that you’re terrified.” He comments seriously now, placing his head on your shoulder and pressing his cheek against yours. “It’s no wonder I feel the need to protect you.”

You’re shocked that you don’t flinch at feeling his cheek against yours, noting that his lips are just inches from yours. You try to erase the images of kissing him so soon, you’re too weak right now. He makes you feel so weak.

Instead, you try to think hard about his words. Trying to ignore the way you felt his jaw move against you. Trying to ignore your immense attraction to the closeness he’s giving you. Are you really that obvious? Are you really this desperate to be close to someone? Anyone?

“Hoping that someday you’ll tell me what it is that makes you so afraid, but for now? Just know that I’d never do anything to make you feel like that.”

You think harder.

Much, much harder.

An uncanny feeling in your gut wonders how he finds words that are so meaningful to you. It’s like he can read your mind. It’s like your life is a book that he’s read a thousand times.

But that’s impossible. You haven’t known him for long, maybe he’s just….a really good person. Maybe you’re just lucky to have bumped into him that day. Maybe it’s lucky that your ex instilled a fear into you so deep that you found yourself living next door to the man holding you right now.

“How do you do that?” You comment quietly, feeling warmer than you ever could have expected to on a night like this.

“Do what?” He smiles, now loosening his grip on you, pulling his face back, and spreading his legs so that you’re now sitting between them, rather than on him.

After all, if he had kept you there, you would have felt what was happening in his pants by now. The way you don’t run away from him, the way you let him touch you has him reacting for more than he ever knew he could. Even after releasing his arousal just before the date, he can already feel the ache. The need to crawl into you, the need to make you fucking love him.

“It’s like you tell me exactly what I need to hear. It’s fucking weird.” You continue through his movement, scooting back as if to huddle yourself against his warm chest, in turn bumping his pathetically hard cock against your back.

You try to hide that you’re a little disappointed that you’re no longer on his lap, and the back of your thighs are now freezing against the grass. He, on the other hand, is so fucking thankful that you still manage to not feel what his body is trying to show you right now. His arms immediately wrap back around you, holding you against him much like before.

You really don’t know why you wore this fucking dress, without tights no less.

“It’s weird?” He questions. “It’s weird that I wouldn’t do anything bad to you if you gave me a chance?”

You look down, feeling those words hit you in the gut. It is weird, but then again, you’ve never really had a relationship with a person who wouldn’t bring harm to you.

“I–” You pause, thinking as hard as you can without oversharing, hands reaching up to grip his forearms, pressing them tighter against you as if you want him to save you from…well, him. “I have my reasons. I’m not trying to call you weird. It’s just weird how you show up in my life at a time where I think I needed this the most.”

He smiles.

“Well, you’re going to have a hell of a time trying to get rid of me at this point.”

You smile back.

“Likewise.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Three more dates have taken place since that first night in the empty park. Each date that followed took place in the same spot, with the same weather, and the same offered warmth.

By now, you find yourself unable to avoid thoughts of him. Thoughts of how badly you like him after learning of his interests, after seeing how he carries himself, and how he treats you over all. The way he seems so in tune with everything you could ever want or need, filling you with only safe care rather than horrifying uncertainty.

Jake likes the same books, tv shows, music, movies. All of them line up near perfect to your own favorites and suddenly you believe that the red string of fate exists. Jake is careful when he touches you, never pushing and only offering, suddenly, that red string of fate is attached firmly to your pinky. Jake looks at you like he sees one of the world's wonders, which was uncomfortable at first for you, but you think that maybe the other end of this little invisible red string is tied to his other pinky.

Your entire life of fucking horror led to this point, where the universe finally gave you the person you’d want to be with for real. Any other man would make you feel cautious, Jake though? Jake does nothing but make you feel like, for the first time, you don’t need to have a guard up. The fact that he managed to do this so fast is a bit telling on your end, that perhaps you put too much faith in people, but goddamn, it looks like he works so hard to show you that you’re not wrong about him.

On your last date, he even tried to kiss you. You panicked, backed away, and felt so fucking embarrased, until he texted you a mere fifteen minutes after parting ways and apologizing, stating that he didn’t know what came over him.

He apologized to you. He didn’t take what he wanted despite your fear, he didn’t push or pull, he simply allowed you to exist beside him, in front of him, even behind him if it’s what you wanted at the time.

God, you should have kissed him. You should have kissed him hard enough for him to realize that you’re trying.

You’re trying to be a person again, for yourself, for Jake, for your mom and uncle. Still though, he doesn’t know the shit you’ve gone through, or the shit you’re running from. You feel so dissociated at times, wondering how strange or odd you must react towards him during the dates he takes you on. Yet, he doesn’t falter. He doesn’t question. He doesn’t force you to feel like you need to apologize at all.

And this is all you can think about now. About Jake. About what he’s doing, about how he must be feeling today, about how he wears his hair, and how his alternating hoodies always offer warmth on a cold night when the two of you are sitting closely together on the ground just…talking.

The thoughts of him don’t stop and it’s kind of nice. Having your fears so loud in your ears every day, anxieties of your ex eating you alive, and fear of being alone in a big city can get quite loud and exhausting after so long of not being able to escape. Thoughts of him are the only thing that calms your mind lately, so you probably wouldn’t stop thinking of him even if you had the choice.

Unfortunately, that choice is made for you today, once again, just two days after that third date with Jake.

A single text from an unknown number that shifts your brain into a fuzzy focus of terror. Your mother told you to change your number, and you really should have done it by now. You have no excuse as to why you haven’t, but you have the reason as to why you should have done it shining brightly in your notifications center.

The unknown number is just that, unknown, but you know who it is already.

Your fingers shake when you tap the screen and your eyes go dead upon the message. This confirms that your body will always know when he is around, you will always have to feel this way for as long as he’s thinking about you.

Unknown Number: heard you got a job over at [redacted company name], mind if we have lunch?

You don’t know who told him, you don’t know how he found out where you are, or where you work. All you know is that now, the buzzing thoughts of Jake fizzle out and are quickly replaced with that of searing reminders of what happened, and what will likely happen if your ex is really trying to get to you already.

It’s the fact that the police did nothing. It’s the reality that they wouldn’t let you procure a restraining order. It’s the fact that he got away with everything he did to you, and wants to get away with more. You’re just a girl, alone in a city who thought this was the best course of action.

You can’t even bring yourself to tell anyone that he texted you. Your mother would scold you for not changing your number fast enough, despite already knowing you haven’t done it yet. It would somehow be your fault that he found you despite his insistent attempts to keep you as his, as if you belong on a chain tied to a tree in his backyard.

You call out of work, explaining the situation. Your managers are already aware of your safety concerns and the situation at hand, and you’re lucky that they really do live up to the promises they made when you took the job.

All three sick days can be used right now if you need them but after those three days, you have to either work from home and be willing to come into the office if you are needed, or you need to put in your notice and leave.

Naturally, you take the sick days, and you intend to work from home.

Despite not feeling safe here, considering the few items in your apartment that went missing not too long ago, it’s safer than walking to and from work. It’s safer with Jake just next door. It’s safer with the security guard in your building’s lobby.

You’ll be okay. This will pass.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake is at a loss, nearly ripping his hair out day by day when you don’t text him back.

When he looks to your window, the lights stay off consistently, the curains are fucking closed. You haven’t left your apartment for work, you haven’t texted nor have you called.

It’s been six days, nine hours, thirty eight minutes, and nine seconds since he last saw you and the only thing he can think of is that he fucked up.

He tried to kiss you, and you eased him into a rejection by pretending everything was fine until you felt comfortable enough to stop talking to him. For three days now, you haven’t responded to him.

Three days without any hint of you, and six days without feeling you in his arms.

He’s going insane and not even jerking off helps calm him down like it normally would. He feels like he could lose it at any moment as he paces his apartment with a buzzing non-stop energy within him, stopping at his bedroom window to stare for hours only to see no movement in your apartment. Only to still see the lights remaining off. Only to see the blinds locking him away from you.

Sure, he’s got the grainy footage of you from weeks past, the footage from the day you got dressed for your first date with him, and the footage from each date after that but he doesn’t have you. The last two days contain footage of blinds swaying, that’s it.

He was so close, he really thought he was. He thought he had you, he thought you were almost ready to let him move to the next level. He thought you would accept if he were to ask you to be his girlfriend, he thought you would let him kiss you, and let him into your apartment, and let him exist within the air you breathe.

But you left.

So, naturally, he works up the courage to grab his camera and hook it into his pc. Obsessively searching for any sign of you within the footage from last night. He tries not to think about missing a glimpse of you as he is away from his window, seeing as how you must not be home. You must have left days ago just to get away from him.

Until…as he fast forwards all of the footage, he sees a light flicker on.

The timestamp reads four in the morning, and the light stays on for a mere minute and a half before turning off again.

One thought floods his mind.

Did you find out that he watches you?

Then another thought.

Are you hiding from him?

And one last thought.

How can he explain and still get you back?

And as he continuously paces his apartment, unable to focus on anything other than knowing you’re in your bedroom hiding, nothing on this earth could calm his frantic brain.

Should he go over? Should he come see you? Should he text you again? Should he–

Pacing the same path in his apartment for far too long, nearly ripping his own hair out, he stops in his tracks at the sound of his phone. He knows that vibration like his own mother tongue by now. That’s you. You’re finally texting him back.

You: are you mad at me?

The relief is instant and near orgasmic. The first contact in what felt like an eternity for him in his head, he takes a deep and calming breath. His eyes flick back to your window, where your apartment still appears to be hidden from his view.

Jake: never, i was just worried since you stopped talking to me.

You stare at your phone, scrolling up the some fifty text messages Jake sent you over the last several days and feel awful for not once checking your phone. To be fair, you’re afraid that every message is from your ex and you eventually just ended up turning your phone off.

After all, you remember what happened the last time you blocked him. That wasn’t even an option for you at this point if he really knows where you are.

The fear inside of you is so strong by this point that you can’t help but want Jake to be with you. Even inside of your apartment, where you’ve yet to invite anyone aside from family. You just want one single day of calm, one single moment of feeling okay. The past three days have been nothing but a paranoid delusion for you.

Each sway of your curtains in front of your blinds is a person who isn’t meant to be inside of your space. Each footstep in the hallway outside of your apartment isn’t other residents, it’s someone trying to get inside. Those missing batteries from weeks ago? It was him. Your missing panties? He has them.

Just like Jake, though unknowing to you, you have been pacing much like he has. You’ve been on the verge of ripping your hair out too.

You: i think we need to talk

Jake’s relief turns to curiosity, to confusion, to horror, to excitement.

Jake: of course, love

Jake: do you want to go to the park again tonight?

You shake your head as you text back with a firm “no”, wanting so badly to explain to him why you’re acting the way you are, and why you’ve always acted so defensively. You need him to understand so that he doesn’t leave. You need him solely because he is all you’ve got right now.

You: no

You: ill explain everything but can you like…

Jake’s ears twitch as if he can hear your words, with your pretty voice, and that cute pitch it has when you talk to him.

You: i don’t like to invite people to my apartment but I'd really just rather you come over.

In less than a second Jake’s heart threatens his health. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck yes. After days of festering in love rot for you, months actually, you’re finally inviting him. All forms of negativity towards your lack of speaking to him lately is laid to rest instantly as he jumps to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom to clean up.

Jake: just tell me when, you know I’m here when you need me.

It’s a shame that he said that, really, because you take it to heart. You need him now and will probably need him far past his ability to give to you. He will grow so tired so fast, surely, but you can’t deny nor can you avoid that you need him.

You need his comfort, his safety, his smile, his dilated pupils each time he looks at you, and his careful hands reluctant to hurt you.

You: can you come now?

Jake is already out the door, following the same path he took the first time he went to your apartment. Honestly, it’s quick enough to remind you that he’s just next door.

Jake: im in the lobby, where do I go?

You pause, briefly realizing that you’re inviting a man into your apartment just so you can feel safe from another man you once invited into your life the same way. You were so enamored with your ex, never thought he could have done what he did to you, but he did. He shattered you from the inside out through years of meticulous work, and he’s still doing it now, all because you trusted him.

It’s driving you to act as recklessly as you once did, and it’s like you’re compelled to do it. You feel forced to trust Jake, despite none of the force coming from him. It’s coming from deep within yourself. Your brain is repeating whispers of “do it, do it, do it.” when it comes to him.

You can’t resist it.

You don’t want to resist it.

You’re fast when you text him your floor and room number, and somehow still find yourself shocked at how quickly there is a knock on your door.

Jake didn’t need your informational text though, he knew exactly where to go. He knows where he belongs, and the excitement within him to have an explanation from you is one thing. The excitement of standing inside of your apartment with you is another.

His thoughts remain on that camera he placed back into his window, knowing that he will finally see himself in the footage with you, in the very spot he thinks about the most. He’s worked so hard for this, so hard.

And his hands are shaking when you open the door, his heart is shaking when he takes in the scent he remembered from before, his legs shake as he takes a step in with a face of somewhat genuine concern for you, simply to hide the way his entire body is fluttering in euphoria.

“Hey,” You start, trying to be nonchalant, trying to ignore that you look like shit. “Sorry for the mess.” You add, gesturing to not only your apartment, but at yourself as well.

“Aw,” Jake coos, poking out his bottom lip before opening his arms wide as he hears the door fall closed behind him. “Come here.”

Instantly you do, and instantly your face is hot.

Searing. On fire.

Jake freezes, feeling the warmth against his chest paired with the death grip your arms instantly lock him into. This grip on him is painfully heavy and seeped with emotion, he can feel your hot tears soaking into his hoodie and it raises goosebumps across his skin.

This is where he belongs.

“I’m sorry–” You hiccup, feeling stupid for instantly crying at the touch of another person. “This must seem so annoying to you.”

“Sorry for what?” He asks gently, finally managing to come back to your reality to hug you and hold you there, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. “Is everything okay?”

He can’t bear to let you pull away, so he holds you tighter against him, willing those salty sweet tears to seep through both layers of his clothing to his skin. Somehow, you still manage to make him fall harder for you. He’s so fucking in love with you. The way you cling to him like this? You’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

You try to pull back though. Once, twice, and by the third time he finally relents and lets you back away.

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze for just a moment and seeing the concern in his eyes. Pupils still dilated like they always are, but brows knitted together, with a small tilt to his head to offer a silent question.

You turn away from him to hide your face. You feel so seen, so vulnerable, and so stupid for involving him in this.

“It’s–” You pause, catching your breath and wiping your cheek as you try to make your way back to your safe space. Your bedroom. “It’s a long story.” You finally mutter out.

Jake notes where you’re headed and doesn’t want that. He needs his camera to get this, he needs to look back on this moment later, he needs to remember the smell of your tears, the feeling of your pain, the suffocating atmosphere within this apartment.

So, he takes a seat on your couch, blatantly ignoring how your voice fades before getting closer again.

You look at him when you go back to the living room, confused as to why he doesn’t follow you.

“You mentioned not inviting people into your apartment, don’t you think it would be best if I stay here for now?” He offers, giving you instant comfort in the way he doesn’t try to invade your space. “Come over here.” He continues, patting the couch cushion next to him and glancing to your window for a moment.

You watch him continue his own train of thought, shifting to reach for the blinds and open them. “It’s so dark in here, let me see you, love.” He offers again, going back to patting the couch after letting the sun in and making it seem, somehow, more enticing. “Please?”

You listen, quietly making your way to him and sitting closely against him.

“I thought I scared you away because I–um,” He gazes at you as he speaks, seemingly studying the emotional baggage under your eyes. “tried to kiss you.” He trails off, very much wanting to kiss you again.

“That didn’t scare me.” You shake your head, still trying to avoid his eye now that you know the sun is allowing him a true view at how destroyed you must look. “It’s just, we’ve been on a few dates now and I like you– alot.” You say more to yourself than to him, as if you’re confirming internally that you need to explain some things to him before giving him the option to run away. “I feel like I–”

“I like you.” He interrupts you. “Alot.” He continues, becoming hyper-aware of everything in the universe. He can feel the hairs on his head grow, he can hear the birds a country away, he can taste the sunlight spilling against your watery eyes.

You like him, and he likes you.

And he takes intense note of the way you dip your head, a small smile curling up on the permanent frown you previously had.

“But Jake,” You say, letting your face fall again. “I think we need to talk about some things before, like, you decide if you really like me.”

That’s silly. He knows everything about you already. He’s in love with you, nothing you could say or do will ever change that. He wishes you could see it, he wishes you knew that he was made for you.

“There is nothing you could say to change my mind,” He says sternly, turning towards you and attempting to make you look at him by grabbing your chin gently between his pointer finger and thumb, “Hey, look at me.” He urges you, pleased in the way you do turn to look at him.

He’s stunned. The whites of your eyes are red, your eyelids are puffy, you appear to be so tired, and still you are so beautiful to him.

For a moment, you take note of the way he looks at you and wonder how he could genuinely think that way and show it so blatantly. Are you the one who is acting recklessly here, or is it him? Somehow, it brings you comfort, even if you feel the need to force your eyes away from him.

He doesn’t let you, and you let him not let you.

Your eyes stay on his.

“I don’t think you realize how much I want to be with you.” He admits blatantly, forcing you to forget your train of thought for a total of three seconds before your eyes really lock onto his. “I don’t think you’ll ever realize that.” He continues.

“Jake,” You mutter out, feeling so full of emotion that you weren’t quite prepared to accept yet. “Please,” You mutter again, continuously losing your thoughts, only to gain them back moments later, and then lose them again when his eyes stare through you. “Please, let me explain something before you say that.”

He pulls his eyes away now, closing them and pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration before breathing out and adjusting his eyes to you again.

He nods reluctantly, relaxing against your couch and throwing his arm around the back of you, pulling you to lean against him, where you can instantly hear the way his heart is beating.

It’s beating fast. So fast that it’s almost distracting to you if you think too hard about it. So, you don’t. You try to ignore the way it beats against the top of your head just so you can finally give him some insight on why you haven’t texted him, on why you didn’t let him kiss you, on why you’re so reluctant.

“Remember how we were talking about our last relationships?” You finally say, feeling his hand on your shoulder rub little shapes against your shirt in a comforting way.

He hums, continuing to trace his own name against your sleeve as he confirms your words. Because of fucking course he does. He remembers everything about you.

“Mine was bad.” You pause, willing the emotion to say in your throat. “Really bad.”

“How bad?” Jake encourages you instantly, already knowing the answer.

To be fair though, he’s been waiting to hear the words from your own mouth. He’s been pretending to not know this entire time, holding in his rage when he’s in front of you, seeing how it affected you, feeling what he did to you through your lack of trust and affection.

“I think you could probably guess, considering I didn’t let you kiss me.” You try to say without going too deep into it. “Considering I’m afraid to let you touch me.”

“But you did.” He says calmly, running the hand on your shoulder down to your waist to pull you in closer. “You did let me touch you.”

You recoil internally.

“I let you hug me, and I let you keep me warm.” You admit. “I don’t know why I let you though. I wasn’t afraid when it was with you.”

Jake knows exactly what you’re trying to say to him, and loves that you admit that he’s different. He is different because of you and for you. His stomach flutters at the fact that you know that, and you accept it.

“Because I wouldn’t hurt you.” He continues to echo his words to you, seemingly giving you a final answer to a question in your head that you have yet to find an answer to. “Because I wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you.”

God, the warmth that floods your body is what you’ve been wanting. This is why you wanted him to come over. This is why you need him. You can’t do this alone, you want him here with you.

“I think, deep down, you know that I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you again.” He continues, talking for you, talking as if he is inside of your head.

“I can make an assumption on what he did to you and I don’t need to know how far it went, but it’s not going to keep me away from you.” He takes in a sigh, releasing his next words with a breathy chuckle. “I have always wanted to be with you, and I still do.”

He feels the way your breathing evens out as you listen to him.

“Did you stop talking to me because of this?” He finally asks, letting the question hang in the air before his hand grips your waist tightly, holding you so close against him that you’re nearly on top of him. “Did you think I wouldn’t fight to have you?”

The words are brash and hard to swallow, but that’s not why.

If you could, you would have gone the rest of your life without telling another person what happened to you. You don’t want it to define you, and you don’t want Jake to ever feel like he needs to fight for you.

You shake your head.

“No.” You say sternly, now wrapping your own arm around his middle and hugging him as tightly as he does to you. Your head dips below his chest, up against his ribs as you curl yourself into him entirely, preparing to tell him. “I moved here to get away from him–” You start, feeling your body shiver in each spot your ex hurt you from before. “And I think he found me.”

You feel it before Jake realizes it himself, but it’s like all of the warmth left his body within seconds. He stiffens, his grip on you loosens, and he trembles for just long enough for it to be noticeable.

“What?” He says, breathing in through his nose and staring straight ahead, seemingly out of it.

“He texted me a few days ago, mentioning he knows where I work, asking if I want to have lunch with him.” You try to explain. “I freaked out, I called in, and I haven’t left my apartment since.”

“He what?” Jake repeats, now slowly turning to you.

For the first time when you meet his eye, you see his pupils constrict. They’re not dilated, in fact, they’re tiny. Horrifically tiny. And if you look hard enough, it’s almost like they’re vibrating against the pretty brown color of his iris. The simple act of watching them change like that felt uncanny. You pull back from him, shocked at the expression and not quite recognizing him compared to moments before.

And then, he realizes your reaction to him and is immediately pulling himself back to you. He pushes that shocked rage back for now. Just for now. His pupils fall back into their permanent dilated state. His face softens, his body relaxes, and then he’s holding you again.

“No one can hurt you when I’m here.” He finally whispers out, trying to keep his voice even and warm to calm you down. “So, he found you? So what?” He continues, letting his confidence take over. “I already told you, he can’t touch you.”

For some reason, his initial reaction sinks into the back of your mind as he holds you like this and says things like that. Why? Because you believe him.

Somehow, you believe him.

“Can you promise me that?” You ask reluctantly, taking everything you can get from Jake at this moment in an attempt to feel safe, to feel better.

He nods instantly, and keeps nodding as he shifts his head to look down at you. This prompts you to look up at him, making direct eye contact and holy fuck. It hurts him not to dip down and make you forget that anyone else in this world exists aside from him.

From this angle, as you look up to him with a promise swirling around the two of you, he knows he’s got you. You’ve never looked at him like this. There is no hint of doubt, curiosity, confusion, or fear in your eyes as you wait for him to answer.

All he can do is stare at you, breath caught in his throat at the constant realization that he’s here. You’re against him, you’re talking to him, you’re looking at him, you’re–fuck, you’re everything he’s ever wanted or needed in life.

“I can promise you that, and more.” He finally whispers out to you, knowing you can feel his words spread across your forehead. “I think I’d do just about anything for you.”

You nod, keeping eye contact with him for a moment more before lying your head back against him and breathing a big sigh of relief.

“I guess I’m yours then.” You sigh out, feeling comfortable saying the words.

And oh.

Oh, the fucking joy that rattles every bone in his body. The immense amount of love, adoration, and wonderstruck devotion he feels for you fills his body from the core, he can feel it seep out of him with each breath, each tear that reaches his eye, each goosebump, all of it.

You’re his. You said it. With your own voice, your own words, your own thoughts, right up by his heartbeat, you fucking said it.

“Yeah,” He says in his own shaking breath, blinking away the first tear he’s felt in his eye for years, wanting to squeeze you so tight that you go numb. “You are.” He continues, swooping down just slightly and prompting you to look at him again.

Those dark eyes are dazed, and once again you feel like he sees you as the only other breathing person on this planet with him. It’s….so nice.

Silence hangs in the air as you look at each other, seemingly confirming a relationship that feels more uncertain to you than it does to him, but you know you’ll try. You want to be his safety too, you want to give him everything you have.

And then he says it.

“Does this mean I can kiss you now?”

It hurts you when you hear the way he says it. So uncertain and reluctant to cross a boundary. You’re trying to confirm his feelings for you, the feelings that you feel so lucky to receive. You’re trying to make him understand that he’s the only person you’re comfortable with. He’s the only one you’d ever let kiss you.

You’ve made him hold back so much, you can imagine.

You nod to him first, watching him almost immediately close in to do just that, but you pull back on instinct.

“Just–” You raise a hand in front of him, putting your fingers to his lips to halt him. “Let’s go slow.” You say, already knowing he will accept it. He will go slow for you.

“Love, you really just don’t get it.” Jake smiles, averting his lips and landing a kiss to your forehead, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his lips for the first time. “I have enough patience for both of us.”

And if only you knew how true that statement is. For him, he’s already been waiting for this moment since before you knew he existed. Despite his small moments of losing control, needing more, he could have waited even longer for this moment with you. All of it is worth it in the end if he gets to hear you call yourself his again.

You are his. You have always been his.

And you decide at that moment that he is right. He’s been nothing but patient with you, and has done nothing to make you feel otherwise.

A kiss wouldn’t hurt, a few kisses wouldn’t hurt.

So, you lift your head just a bit more, closing your eyes softly and waiting for him to do it. Waiting for him to kiss you, waiting for him to–

“Little more,” He encourages you, causing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Just a little closer.”

And you do. The least you can do is close the distance for him, especially after what he just learned about you. He probably wants you to be the one to approach him, he probably doesn’t want to cross a boundary, or scare you.

For Jake, the way you listen without a hint of hesitation is…well. It scares him. It scares him how every assumption he had about you was right. Given, he knew he would be, but experiencing it right here, right now, is amazing to him.

He keeps his eyes open through all of it, seeing your heavy eyes stay closed as you place your lips on his.

It’s so soft. Your lips are plush when they’re puckered against his own, soft, so fucking soft. He chokes back a relieved sob at finally getting this from you, hiding it with a thick swallow and his hands rushing up to cup both of your cheeks in his hands as he lets himself feel you like this.

He’s thought about it so much. Just these few seconds of feeling you kiss him already exceeds his expectations. He can feel your eyelashes flutter on the tips of his fingers, and it only makes him tilt his head just a bit to slot his lips against yours in a more comfortable position.

He doesn’t move after that, nor do you. Both of you just feel it.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed anyone since your ex and even he didn’t hold your face against his like this, despite swearing he loved you more than life itself. You can feel the burn at the corner of your eyes, and you breathe out through your nose to try and keep them in.

You don’t even notice the tears that escape until Jake is tasting them, relishing in what you’ve chosen to give to him. Never realizing how good pain can taste until it comes from you, and then he pulls back just slightly.

It was nothing but a long and drawn out act of lying lips against each other. There was no tongue, there were no frantic movements. It was just…a first kiss, that lasted what felt like years to you, and only a split second for Jake.

He blinks down at you, noting the beads of tears bunching up in your bottom lashes and uses his thumb to swipe just under your eye. That view alone of seeing his hand do it was enough to confirm for him that he is no longer chasing. You are his, and never will another person get the chance to look at you as closely as he does.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Jake smiles when he says it, feeling your tears nourish his body.

You nod, still blinking up at him.

“In passing, on dates. Never like this though.” You admit in a small voice, feeling a bit shy with the way you feel entirely new when he’s with you.

“I’ll tell you every day.” He says, leaning down to connect his lips with yours once again solely because he can’t choose between staring at you or kissing you now.

All of his senses are in overdrive. Kissing you, looking at you, sitting on your couch in your apartment, none of it will ever satiate his need for more, more, fucking more of you. And all of it is happening right there, in front of his camera.

He can relive this time and time again for the moments he can’t be with you.

You stay silent after that, alternating between the same long and simple kisses and staring at each other until you can see the sun shift positions in the sky. Sometimes he will say things during this time, sweet and passionate words that only make you feel safer and safer in your own space.

Up until you feel his body shift and his hands pull back to his own body.

You look at him as if he just interrupted a very important moment in your life, and in a way, he did. You could sit with him like this for three hours more if he allowed it, but unfortunately, nature does tend to call.

“I’ll be back–” He whispers right up against your lips, knowing that you’re already growing familiar with how they feel against you. Smiling when your lips chase him as he stands up. He lends you one more. A quick kiss, one that reminds you that he isn’t leaving you. “Just a second.” He adds in an even smaller voice, heading straight for your bathroom.

You’re still so in awe at how slow the night feels with him, loving every warm second of it. You’re not thinking about anything but him and the way his lips feel. Hell, you haven’t even gotten a full glimpse of him since that first kiss.

So, of course you don’t notice how he somehow knew which door held your bathroom behind it, or how long he stayed in there. You weren’t paying attention at all as you flop back and do your very best not to kick your legs out of happiness at this moment.

You finally feel comfortable, even while a threat looms just outside of these walls. You have a boyfriend now, one that appears to be willing to stay beside you through all of it.

You’re happy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

All good things come to an end but at least this time, it’s temporary.

The night with Jake felt much needed on both accounts, but it became one sided when your discomfort kicked in. It’s not that you didn’t want him to stay, above all you almost needed him to.

He was so willing to stay, you could tell just by looking at him sitting next to you with kissed lips and dazed eyes, far too late in the night to excuse what you eventually made happen. He had to go back home.

Again, it’s not because you didn’t want him to stay, it’s because you felt better. You felt so much better that you didn’t think even for a second that Jake wouldn’t come running back over if you so much as hinted through a text that you needed him. Not to mention, upon your anxieties calming, your rational thoughts took back over and reminded you that this was enough. You don’t need him to coddle you more, or to worry for you.

You’re not entirely ready to let a man sleep in your home, despite very much loving the time you spent with him here.

After all, you interrupted his day already by asking for him to cater to you. Cater he did, and you wanted to do the same for him. Kissing him one more time with an apologetic look, stating that it’s best if he goes back home for the night.

You still remember the look on his face when you walked him to the lobby. Reluctance, confusion, even a bit of panic. He needed another kiss, and another kiss you gave.

His shoulders relaxed at that, and you watched him turn on his heel and head back home to presumably sleep without you.

And while you slept well that night, thinking of him and how you somehow found a boyfriend amidst all of your fears, Jake was wide awake and reeling from the conversations he shared with you, the kisses, the cuddling, the smell. Fuck, it was so much to face by the time he made it back into his cold and dreary apartment.

He doesn’t belong in this space, he belongs just across the street with you. But, for your sake…he will continue the patience he promised you. After all, he could see in your eyes that briefly, you considered letting him stay.

And throughout the night, his calm overtakes him as he rethinks, staring down his camera and trying to decide if he should watch it back until you eventually text him after you wake up.

He ultimately decides to watch, checking that your lights are off one last time before moving to his PC and plugging in the camera. The first thing he does is fast forward to your first kiss, and then the second, third, fourth…

He rewinds it to watch again, almost feeling that you’re still against him when he presses play a bit too far back in the footage.

You pull away from him in that moment and suddenly he remembers why.

Before the blissful moments he spent with you, there was a moment of intense and uncontrollable rage within him. When you told him the less-than-detailed story of what your ex did to you, he was expecting it. He knew how to act surprised, he knew how to comfort you, he knew how to make you understand that your past wouldn’t scare him away.

What he wasn’t prepared for was to find out that your fears that he read in your journal were very real. Learning that your ex texted you and that he knew where you were was one thing, but hearing your voice crack upon telling him that he wants to meet with you is another.

Jake couldn’t have prepared a reaction for that even if he tried. Not one that wouldn’t have scared you, at least. And now, this night of reliving the hours in which it took for him to make you his girlfriend once and for all turned into a night of internet sleuthing.

Finding the man on social media can’t be that hard. All he had to do was search your name to find your family, which he has done probably a thousand times by now. He knew that within the public posts of your family, this guy had to have been associated somewhere.

And after three hours of finding nothing, a little hint of who this man is reveals itself.

So far into his searches, intense googling, and even yearbook studying, he finds an older facebook account of your mother and he slaps himself in the forehead for not double checking the profiles sooner, he could have saved at least two hours if he had found this earlier.

She must have made a new account after the divorce that she clearly had and shared with the world. It only takes a single scroll with his mouse wheel to find an image of her, another woman, you, and…that man.

Jake sits and stares at the old image, noting that it’s over four years old. Indicating that you must have been with this guy for a long time. You look happy in the photo, with his arm snaked around your waist and gripping you tight.

Jake, above anyone else, knows that grip he’s got on you. It’s the same one he had on you just hours ago but he tries not to think too hard, prying his eyes away from a happy you with that piece of shit. If he ruminates on this image of you with another man, he very well may resent you for ever letting another man be with you in the first place.

Instead, he has to force his eyes from the younger college version of you and look at the reactions of the photo.

Of course your mother is the type to have hundreds and hundreds of friends, most that she doesn’t even know in real life surely. The image has seventy three likes, and he goes through each and every single one until he finally recognizes the account of the very man in that photo, holding you, as if it’s his rightful place beside you.

God, safety concerns be damned. He cannot believe that your mother never deleted this account. Your ex probably looks at this photo all the time, he probably gets off on it too. Like he must think that because he had you once, he could win you over again. No. Jake will see blood before he ever lets that happen.

Jake rolls his eyes, giving himself a mental note to find a way to tell you that your mother should really watch her online presence if her own daughter’s safety is in danger, and then he continues his snooping on your ex.

One simple google of his name and city and Jake’s got a workplace address. Come Monday morning, you’ll never have to worry about this guy again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Every. single. day.

Every day you have texted him since the night he left your apartment, and every day he hopes that you force him to be patient with you. Why? Because for the first time, he needs to stay distant for now.

He kept his promise. Maybe he even overdid it a little bit.

Given, he knows you’d probably be happy in knowing what happened, he just thinks it would be best not to tell you about it. For now, at least, he doesn’t want you to see the mark above his eye because if you find out what happened, perhaps you’d stop needing him for comfort. Maybe you’d even break up with him since you’d no longer need him.

He’s going to ensure that you are safe, and he’s going to keep you.

Unfortunately, Jake is awful at telling you no, awful at living up to his patience, and fucking horrible at staying away from you. When you text him this morning, just two days after he met with your ex, it’s not your usual greeting.

You: they need me to go to the office today…

God, has he no shame? No. He doesn’t. Never in his life could he even imagine being ashamed to instantly come at your beck and call. Though you have nothing to be afraid of anymore.

Jake: I’ll walk you there.

You smile at his immediate act of protection of you.

You: It’s okay, my manager is already on her way to pick me up. she knows about everything so i’m still safe!

He pauses, trying to look at the bright side of not seeing you. He’s not in fear of your safety like you are, because he definitely took care of the matter, but…under the guise of you still needing it, he doesn’t like that you’re letting someone else protect you on your trip to work.

Jake: oh

You stare at your phone, feeling bad that you haven't offered him much since he was last at your apartment. You don’t want him to think you’re avoiding him again, or to think that you don’t want to see him but…your manager has a car. If you were to let him walk you to work, you’d just be paranoid of being on the street.

You’d just feel bad for him to have to walk back home alone. And you’d feel even worse knowing he’d make the same trip to walk you back home.

You: i don’t want to have to walk to work, even if I know you’d be there with me. It’s just a huge inconvenience for you and a big safety concern for me…

He reads your text and scoffs. Do you still not understand that it’s what he lives for? He would walk across the fucking country if you so much as suggested there was a leaf on the ground that you wanted to look at. It’s not an inconvenience.

The inconvenience is you giving someone else the right to what he is supposed to be doing for you.

Jake: it’s ok love, just text me when you get there safe

You pause, unable to shake the feeling of guilt that’s threatening your brain right now. It feels awkward, it feels weird. You’re more than aware to know that he probably wants to prove something to you, especially with such a new relationship but you can’t help but feel like you’re the only person who needs to prove something.

You need his protection, but you don’t want to exhaust him. That is your biggest fear, even over the idea of your ex finding you. The idea of being wanted by someone you hate hurts far less than the idea of being unwanted by the man who is seemingly upset with you over not getting to walk you to work.

So, you’ll prove to him that this isn’t because he isn’t capable of protecting you. You’ll prove to him that you do want to see him.

You: Can I see you after i get home? I miss you.

His reactions are always so immediate as he slams his phone against his chest, sighing out of relief that you want to see him tonight. So what if he has a blatant and obvious bruise on his face? He will proudly present it to you, with a lie of course, solely because he knows it’s proof that he would do anything for you.

Jake: I miss you too :) just tell me when she’s bringing you back to me and i’ll be waiting in the lobby for you.

For some reason, those little typed words of “bringing you back to me” hits you hard in the chest. It makes you feel warm, happy even, as you head out of your apartment and straight for your manager’s car.

Sure, you might not be walking to work when they need you to come in for a while, but you’ll sure as hell be certain to make it up to Jake every single time. You can practically feel his excitement through his quickly sent texts, and you can’t help but thrive off of it.

Now, even as you’re worried that you’ll be at work, in a place where he can find you, you feel excited. You’re looking forward to getting to go back home, and looking forward to hugging Jake, and talking to him, and seeing his pretty face.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You don’t recall your work days going by this slowly, as you fiddle around your desk wondering why they called you here today in the first place. “For a meeting” Your manager had said. Well that’s all fine and dandy if it weren’t for the fact that the meeting isn’t scheduled until four thirty in the afternoon, the end of the fucking day.

You could have worked from home and just came in for the meeting if that was the case, but you’re already here and mostly just annoyed that you had to come at all.

You scroll your phone, do some paperwork, scroll some more, more paperwork, and then, just as you open your messages so you can complain to Jake about how stupid this work day is, you pause.

Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of everything and everyone around you, and all you can do is sit at your desk and pretend that you don’t see the man across the large room filled with fifty other cubicles, eyes scanning for you.

The only thing you know how to do is drop to the floor upon seeing that familiar smile. You’re not ashamed when you text your manager, telling her who security just led to your floor. You’re even less ashamed in the way you quickly rush to the back, around a corner, and out the fire escape.

You came to work today to miss not one meeting, but two, apparently. The only reason you even feel safe enough to power-walk back to your apartment is because you know exactly where your stupid handsome ex is, and you know exactly why he’s there.

He’s not following you right now, you’re sure of it. You told your manager exactly who he was before, and she knows exactly where he is now. Surely they’re distracting him, because your manager, bless her, already texted you that she would take care of it and that you should get home quickly.

Insane scenario, really. You should have just called the police, but it’s not like he fucking did anything within these city limits outside of take an elevator to your floor.

God, how did he even know you were going to be at work today?

And as you rush into your apartment building, not even knowing how long or how short it took you to get there, you feel your phone vibrate before you even get in the building’s front door.

Jake: why are you home so early, and why did you walk alone?

Instantly you call him, not thinking even for a second that it’s strange that he saw you come in. If anything, it was probably just a coincidence. He just happened to look outside and you just happened to be panic-walking inside.

“Come over.” You say, out of breath into the speaker.

Jake doesn’t even respond, he just hangs up and is immediately rushing to your building as quickly as his feet can carry him, for the first time unsure of what’s going on with you.

He thinks this may actually be his record time of getting to you even, considering you’re walking up to your door as soon as he steps out of the elevator and rushing up to you.

“What’s wrong!?” You hear his panicked voice from behind you as you unlock your door, stepping inside and grabbing him by the shirt, not even looking at him before pulling him inside.

“I missed you.” You say, desperate to feel safe again and running entirely on adrenaline as you lift up and kiss him harder than you ever have before.

Jake freezes, feeling your grip on his shirt and your hardened pucker against his lips. He doesn’t relax into it at all, in fact, the way you just grabbed him runs straight between his legs and all he can do is grab your shirt back, pulling you up more, kissing you twice as hard.

He knew you could be forceful, and somehow this is the last thing he was expecting. Did you rush home alone and call him with that desperate voice because you needed him? Did you finally give in? Does he mean this much to you already?

There are no words in this breathless moment as you let yourself spiral into a void with Jake. Feeling only safe when he’s with you, on you, holding you, touching you. You really should have let him walk you to work. You should have let him stay with you there, you shouldn’t ever let him leave your side.

You only feel calm when he’s with you, and god you almost hope your ex followed you here so that he can walk in and find you kissing someone else. Someone better.

“What happened?” Jake groans out his words between the harsh kisses that are quickly turning heated. Your grip on his shirt only tightens, and you stumble back to pull him with you.

You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to explain, you just want to…do this. You need him to give you that brain fog that makes you forget about anything else.

And it’s the first time he’s ever felt your tongue. So desperate to part his lips, so frantic, so sweet. The new feeling is more than he ever could have imagined, he feels like he’s almost forgotten how to kiss you back at this point. He lets you do all of the work right now, tasting inside of his mouth and fluttering your lashes against his cheek bone when you skew your head just a little bit to kiss him deeper.

He’s feeling everything at once, and the fact that he’s finally back in your apartment only makes this worse for him. Or maybe, better? He isn’t sure, but what he does know is that if you keep doing this, he won’t be able to hold back. How could he? You’re pulling him, nearly tripping over your own feet just to pull him deeper into the room– right there in front of that same fucking window.

Your tight grip on his shirt warms him along with knowing this is being recorded, right up from the brief amount of cold air that hit him on his run over. It was freezing, and he left without even throwing on his hoodie. Which is nice and detrimental to his health. It’s like you’re closer than you’ve ever been to him without two layers of clothing on, just this shirt keeping you from gripping his skin instead.

And he would let you, he would let you grip and claw through his chest to pull him further into your space. If you missed him so much, perhaps he wouldn’t need to hold back. Your kisses are bruising, and the little breaths you take with each tilt to your head drives his heart to tremble in his chest, he’s sure you may not want him to hold it in any longer.

He’s tasting you right now and only because you’re tasting him first.

Safe to say, he’s in shock and entirely turned on right now with the way you try to overpower him. He lets you. Yes, yes, yes. Why wouldn’t he? You’re not being shy and your defenses are entirely down for him.

You continue to stumble back with him, up until your legs hit your couch and he very nearly falls on top of you, but instead he holds steady, watching you fall from the close proximity against his lips with a huff after you hit the soft cushions.

He felt his shirt slip from your fingers in the descent and can do nothing but look at you in pure awe. You look like you want him right now, you look up at him the same way he looks at you.

Your pupils are dilated, your chest is heaving, and you’re just staring up at him with each breath.

“Jake?” You mutter in a slight whisper and furrow your brows at your findings upon finally looking at him. In your rush to kiss him and to have him as close to you as possible, you nearly missed it.

You reach a hand out and see him immediately take it, your gaze still trained on the bruise above his eye. You pull him to you instantly, landing your lips just below his right brow. “Why is there a bruise?”

He pauses to feel your breath hit his brow, entirely forgetting that he is a human being with flesh that can be marked by another. Forgetting that pain exists, solely because the kiss you just landed against that swollen spot felt good. So good.

“Ah–” He chuckles slyly, feeling you repeatedly kiss the area, bruising it more by the force behind your lips. “Dropped my phone on my face a few nights ago while texting you.”

You smile against it, finding the image endearing before pulling back and taking note of the way he hovers above you, not letting a single part of his body touch you without you prompting it.

“You should be more careful,” You smile, pulling him down more, until he is forced to use his arms on the back of your couch to steady himself. “Stay like this.”

He notes how you look so small under him, and he would want nothing more than to stay like this for you.

“On top of you?” He asks gently, allowing his hungry eyes to fall to a half-lidded stare, he tilts his head and inches back to your lips as he says it, entirely drunk on the image of you against the couch and totally barred from the outside world by his body.

“Yeah,” You sigh at how pretty he is close up, dark eyes taking you in with that deep stare. “Feels like nothing could ever get to me if you’re like this.”

He nods confirmation.

“You were scared of being alone today, weren’t you?” He asks gently, pulling back from the almost-kiss and now adjusting you to lay down on your couch, all so he can more comfortably fulfill the request you just asked of him. “Don’t go anywhere without me again, and I'll stay like this for as long as you need me to.”

You stare up at him and his words as he crawls onto the couch with you, over you. He nudges himself between your legs and only now do you understand what it must feel like to want someone to love. You never imagined you’d let a man be with you like this again, and yet there’s so much truth in his facial expression after he said those words. You can’t help but feel like you were stupid to ever think you could do any of this alone.

You never could do it alone to begin with.

“I won’t,” You confirm for him, lifting your hand to move a strand of hair that hangs over that darkened bruise above his eye. “So, stay like this.”

And he does, eyes lost as they glance at every part of your face, only closing his eyes to feel your fingers in his hair for that short moment. He lets out a long sigh, trying to keep his lower half from losing control, both understanding and not comprehending that he’s on top of you right now.

Only now, with his mind racing and skin reacting does he dip back down.

“Alright.” He whispers just before the kiss, intentionally relaxing his lower half and allowing you to feel exactly what you’re doing to him.

He feels you shift when you feel it, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he presses forward a bit more with his hips, making sure you feel his love for you in its entirety.

And when your hands find their way into his hair and you hum against his tongue, that’s when he pulls back.

“Sorry,” He admits, looking away from you. “Didn’t know you were going to just– grab me like that and kiss me.”

All you can do is smile at him, refusing to question why you don’t recoil at the idea of a man being turned on. If anything, you give in to the feeling of pleasure yourself. Especially after so long of not only denying it to yourself, but fearing it.

And the two of you just lay there, shifting from time to time to get more comfortable and to ease numb limbs. Just kissing. Just making out.

Hot, wet, warm kissing. To the point of being out of breath but not yet pulling back. Never wanting to be the first one to break the contact, but always wanting to be the first to dip back in. You feel his excitement throughout all of it, and you feel his patience as well.

He doesn’t even chase when your body arches into his intense kisses, he doesn’t ask for more, and ultimately, it doesn’t matter that your ex showed up at your workplace today. Because you’ve got Jake right here, on you, shielding you, holding you.

No one can get to you right now.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake holds you as you sleep, as tight as he can manage without waking you up. Thinking in his head over and over again about how pretty you are, how perfect you are, how utterly infatuated with you he is.

He wasn’t expecting you to fall asleep like that, gentle fingers scratching the back of his neck and holding him just as tightly. Whispering to him that you don’t want him to leave this time.

Muttering that you want him to stay.

He remembers so well how pretty your half-asleep voice sounded, with your half-asleep eyes, and half-asleep legs tangled in his own.

He didn’t sleep.

No, no. He couldn’t have. He didn’t want to miss a single breath or twitch of your brow as you dreamt. And he really didn’t miss a single one either.

The sun is long gone in the sky by the time his own heavy eyes force him to blink. It’s so dark in the room but you brighten it up for him just fine, with that pretty breath and sleeping face. His gaze falls upon the window as he smiles, hugging you even closer to him just to feel you nuzzle your nose up and against his neck.

He has yet to set foot into your bedroom since the first time he’s been here but that doesn’t bother him. You both fit perfectly on this couch. Forced proximity really lives up to its name in this city, apparently. You haven’t ever been without him, and you never will be.

He’s more than delighted to–

His thoughts shake the same way your phone does. A vibration sending his mind into a spiral at who could possibly be texting you at this hour if not him.

The phone lights up the room and he’s very careful to reach for it, smiling when your sleepy brain tells you that he’s reaching over you to hug you closer again, not to grab at your phone that you left forgotten on the table.

He’s so quiet, so careful.

The screen lights up his face, causing his dry eyes to water until they adjust to the notification.

A text message.

From an unknown number.

His eyes fall to you as he tries to remember the patterns of numbers you’ve typed into your phone, only to fail a total of three times before gently shaking you.

“Love,” He whispers, lying his lips against your forehead. “What’s your passcode?”

“Hmm?” You mumble against him, his shirt bunched up against your own lips.

“Your passcode,” He repeats in a more gentle voice, trying to keep from waking you entirely. “I forgot my phone at home, and I want to set an alarm.”

Your sleepy brain barely registers his words, or the fact that he’s lying. You felt his phone in his pocket when he was lying on top of you all night.

“Ah,” You sigh out, clearing the sleep from your throat as you whisper out the numbers to him, slurring out the last one as you fall right back into your deep slumber

Jake smiles, dumbfounded yet again by how adorable you are for him.

Now, with one hand unlocking your phone and the other tracing his name, once again, onto the fabric of your back, he swipes to your messages.

Rage.

Unknown number: so who is the new guy

Unknown number: get me banned from your work then you send him? fought like a bitch

Unknown number: i’ll be seeing you soon babe

Empty threats, he knows they have to be. Blatant lies and empty fucking threats. This idiot can’t do shit considering how battered he managed to leave him.

He thinks hard about the pain against his knuckles and even harder about how you didn’t note that they’re just as bruised as his eye. Thankfully, you were too enveloped in kissing him to take note of his bruised hands, or the lie about dropping his phone.

Jake easily deletes the texts and blocks the number, understanding that this little problem of yours is his problem to solve. And the worst part is that he knows exactly why this man wants you back. He hates that he understands the thought process from the root, knowing that if he, himself, couldn’t have you, he’d have to take desperate measures too. As if he hasn’t already.

He’s similar to your ex, who was far more handsome with blood on his face, and you can never know that. As similar as he is, mirroring the love and abundant weakness he has for you, he would never. fucking. hurt. you. Infact, Jake would set himself aflame before even imagining you crying for him to leave you alone.

Why would he set himself up for you to fear him? Your ex is a royally vacuous man, at least Jake has the smarts to treat you well.

Still, he gets it.

Who wouldn’t want you all to themself anyway?

You’re Jake’s though. You belong to him and only him, you always have, and that’s the only reason, he thinks, that you’re in this mess. Had you not tried to love someone before him, perhaps you wouldn’t have that little journal filled to the brim with night terrors and body shakes.

And as he ruminates on whether or not he should pay your ex another visit, this time without holding back, he searches the rest of your messages simply because he is entitled to it.

Every text you have is from your family and him. Good.

Your photos.

Most of you and your family, one specific photo of you. Deep within your camera roll, pressing your tits together, hand grabbing one of them, panties sitting prettily on your hips.

Who did you send that to? It’s old, your hair is different, but he’d like to hope it wasn’t to the man whose blood he’s currently craving. Still, he feels discomfort in knowing this photo was taken long before he loved you, and long before you loved him. Meaning, whether it was to your ex or not, it wasn’t for him.

His length stirs immediately still, so turned on by the image of you, the feeling of you currently against him, and the internal future promise to feel your ex’s teeth break against his fists. All of it is making his dick ache, as he chews the inside of his bottom lip and easily sends the nude to himself before deleting it from your phone forever. He’d better be the last to see this image of you, and the last to ever feel you hug against him like this. Then, he removes the sent message from your phone to hide the traces of it entirely.

You shift against him at this moment and he pulls back slightly to look at you, quickly closing out your apps, locking your phone, and tossing it to the floor. There, he wraps both arms around you, hugging you so tightly that you do wake up this time.

“You’re so cute,” Jake mumbles against the top of your head. “Wake up so I can kiss you.”

You smile against him, shifting your head up and finding his lips within the dark room. It’s soft at first, and you assume he’s going to pull back, satisfied with it, but he doesn’t.

It’s a quick movement, one that causes your sleepy groan to come out as a surprised yelp. He easily moves on top of you again, using his knees to spread your legs so he can lay between them, and his fingers locking into yours, pressing them into the cushion above your head.

“Sorry,” He pouts, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, sorry.” He continues, kissing down to your jaw, and just below your ear. “I’ve been so turned on all day, please.”

You chuckle, feeling the tickle of his plush bottom lip meeting the sensitive pulse point of your neck. Pleased with how much he wants you, and even more pleased that you kind of…want this too. But, you’re not entirely ready. Even in this perfect atmosphere with the perfect man. Room shielded entirely by night, warm lips kissing you, strong arms holding you…

You’re still not ready.

“Mm, Jake.” You hum, catching his attention and feeling him move his head back to look at you. “Not yet.”

And then you hear him let out a nervous chuckle, a sigh, and a whisper.

“Alright, baby.” He pouts again.

He moves back to your side and hugs you against him, trying not to seem as disappointed as he really is right now before you hear him speak again. You barely hear it, and you barely comprehend it within the comfort of his hug, but you do think you’ll remember it.

“Then when?”

Even as you fall back to sleep, you think about it. The fact that he’s already been so patient with you and that you knew it would run out eventually. You’ll lose him at this rate, and these soft arms vowing to protect you.

If anything, Jake has given you everything and you’ve given him nothing. If he finds out that you’ve already spotted your ex at work, he might really run away knowing that no matter what he does, you may never be ready to give him intimacy on a deeper level as long as said ex is around.

You felt how much he wanted you today right up against you. If you were any other woman, you wouldn’t have been able to pretend it wasn’t there. You would have touched him, you would have given yourself to him.

And god, you want him so badly at the same time. The only thing holding you back is the fear of it hurting. The fear of regression, of dissociation.

Yet, still, your dream state forces you to promise. You’ll be everything that Jake needs you to be in time, and he will be the only person able to teach you how to love again, the only man that will touch you in a way that feels good.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

part two

taglist: @skzenhalove , @taetaemylovie, @soocult, @nyanggk, @grilledbananas, @dneltrise, @becc09, @nielle002, @sjyfolder, @sd211, @moonmoongi, @sweetiewolfie, @ksnooppy, @woongkification, @laxatives4hre, @hiddensideofmoon, @mywaaw, @beomstarz, @multifandombtvh, @heeverseblog, @floclover, @elliesuh, @iloveleeknow, @crazydelulu, @dasa3040, @sluttyhee, @bethroedtojae, @cherryunie, @hiamlili, @seojunandsoju, @parksunghoonsgf, @jungwon-xo, @fxiryeon, @jwnghyuns, @juliesblogs

#enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #enha smut

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kentosbabes · 1 year

Text

CEO Toji who hires you as his personal assistant as soon as you step through his office doors. As soon as he looks up at you his breath hitches, you're wearing a blouse that exposes the top of the black lace bra you wear underneath, and you keep pulling down the bottom of your skirt that stops mid-thigh. Your glasses are pushed up to your nose as you look at him so innocently through the lenses.

CEO Toji who doesn't waste any time before saying "You're hired". His rough hand finds you back as he guides you through the glass doors and into your new office, which joins with his. He shows you the ropes of what he wants from you, keeping him on schedule, talking to clients, and completing overall admin tasks etc.

CEO Toji who now can't wait to come to work even though he doesn't show it. As soon as he walks through the front doors of the building, you hand him his morning coffee and go through his schedule for the day with a bright smile on your face. He just smirks down at you watching as you practically have to run to catch up to him as he takes big steps compared to your much smaller ones.

CEO Toji who adores how flustered you get when he calls you pet names. "I have the report you asked for, sir" The words leave your mouth so innocently, but he can't help the bulge in his trousers that begins to make itself present. "thank you pretty girl" his words making your cheeks flush red as you hand him over the papers.

CEO Toji who cant help but stare at you. The view from his desk provides the perfect view of you as you work. He can't hold back the thoughts that plague his mind every time he looks at you. His eyes trail from the curls that fall down your back to the way your back curves and your ass sticks out as you type on your computer. Your glasses falling down your nose and your red lips moving as you pick up the phone.

CEO Toji who hasn't felt this way since his ex-wife was around. He hates the feeling he gets when he sees you talking to Gojo the owner of one of his rival companies. He can't take his eyes off the way your hand grabs onto Gojo's shoulder as you laugh at his jokes, and how Gojo places a soft kiss on your knuckle as he leaves your office flashing a wink to Toji before leaving.

CEO Toji who for the first time in ages takes off his wedding ring every time he sees you. Although his ex-wife wasn't the best and he was the one to divorce her, he always kept on the ring yet he had the urge to destroy it whenever you were in his line of sight.

CEO Toji who admires how kind you are and how easily you're able to make people feel comfortable in your presence. He can't stop the smile that covers his face as he sees you offering doughnuts to your co-workers after a long week. "Hi sir, would you like one?" you ask softly looking up at him, his eyes pierce into yours. "call me Toji love," he says before grabbing a doughnut and biting into it.

CEO Toji who just thinks about how sweet you would taste as he bites into the doughnut. He imagines how your lips would taste of strawberries and sugar, and your soft skin would have a hint of coco as he kisses up your neck. but for now the sweet doughnut will have to do.

CEO Toji who cant help but blur the lines between you two. He sees the glances you give him as he paces up and down his office and how your eyes fix on his lips as he talks to you in the morning. After his last meeting he heads back to his office assuming no one would be there, yet he sees your desk light on as you sit on the couch with your laptop on your thighs presumably still working.

CEO Toji who strolls into your office with a smirk "You waiting for me sweet girl?" he asks watching as you squeal with shock. "sir I didn't know you were back yet" you let out, placing your laptop beside you, and walking towards him. "Toji, please call me Toji no need for formalities ma" You nod your head letting out a quick "Sorry sir" which makes him chuckle.

CEO Toji who places his hand on your cheek bringing your eyes up to meet his. His hands are rough and his hair is a little messy, probably from running his fingers through it from stress. "you're a real cutie aint ya" he says moving your chin slightly to get a proper look at you in the dim lighting. "so pretty" he mumbles his face inching closer to yours "you want it?" you only give him a quick nod, as you practically pool at his feet in his touch.

CEO Toji who tastes of cigarettes and a hint of whiskey as he kisses you. The kiss is rough and sloppy but you don't mind. Your much softer and sweeter lips struggle to match his pace. The mewls and whimpers you let out as he kisses you has him going crazy inside. You want to stop and question what this all means but the way his hands grip on your waist and his lips suck on your own has you too dizzy to think of anything else but him

-repost of this because the tags weren't working for a week and have finally been fixed :)

Part 2 here

Masterlist

#jjk headcanons #kentosbabes #toji smut #toji imagine #jjk toji #toji fic #toji fushiguro #toji headcanons #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x you #jujustu kaisen #toji fluff

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yeonzzzn · 2 months

Note

pleaseee im begging for your next sunghoon one-shot to be toxic hoon. maybe an exes to lovers type of situation where he's losing his shit seeing you finally move on shdhjwjd 🧎‍♀️

I hope this is what you were looking for anon🤭 this is sooo angsty but I hope you enjoy it anyways 🩵

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unsteady: park sunghoon

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 2.6k

“I hope one day someone will love me as much as I loved you.”

Those were the last words you said to him as you stormed out of his apartment. Slamming the door in his face and leaving him alone in his living room.

Sunghoon stared at the door, counting down the seconds until you’d walk right back into his apartment and into his arms, apologizing for the fight, apologizing for breaking up with him.

But you never did.

He stood at the door for a good ten minutes before he finally realized you weren’t coming back.

It was the first time Sunghoon was actually scared of losing you. Scared he’d never see you again. Hold you again. Kiss you, take you to his bed, take you to your bed.

For half a second Sunghoon had regrets, but shoved it down with a smirk on his face, “She’ll be back.”

It’s been almost a year since you last saw him or spoke to him. You never once contacted him about the stuff of yours that still lingers in his apartment or your favorite hoodie you left in his car. You didn’t have the heart to try and get it back. Too afraid you’d fold right back into him.

Sunghoon was toxic, manipulative, and gaslit you daily. Was he a bad person? No. He was actually and honestly, a really good guy? Absolutely. You fell in love the moment you met him. Sunghoon had a reputation at college. The cool guy who slept with any girl who batted their pretty little eyes at him. The guy who was at every party, you’d never see him not at one. The guy who held a smirk on his face the entire time around his friends as they walked around campus.

But with you? He wasn’t that guy. He was sweet, loving, caring, and soft. He was the guy who worked at the local animal shelter to take care of the abandoned animals. He was the guy who would curl up in bed with you in his arms as he reread his favorite book. The one who’d whisper praises in your ear as he fucked you gently. Who’d cook for you and buy you flowers.

But on campus? He went back to the cool guy persona. Eventually, over time those lines got blurred. His two personas fused until the cool side overtook the sweet one. You didn’t recognize him anymore. He stopped being the sweet Sunghoon you grew to love, and become the one you hated.

You still loved him, but hated him all the same. When fights would break out, you always ran back to him. It was a repeated process over and over and over. Until you gave up and walked out that door for good, saying those final words to him.

And oh god did those words ring in his ears for that entire year.

You finally moved on, or well, tried to. You started finally going on dates again, meeting new people, and trying new things out. But unfortunately, it never worked out.

“I don’t get it,” you sigh, dropping yourself onto your best friend's couch, “They just—“

“Aren’t Park Sunghoon?” he said, giving you a teasing smile before waving his hand for you to quickly sit up.

“Sunno,” you pouted, waiting for your best friend to sit down so you could lay your head in his lap, “Sunghoon was an asshole.”

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugged, “But you’re looking for him in every man you’ve met, that’s why it’s not working.”

You roll your eyes, “It’s been practically a year, I’m so over it.”

Sunno rolls his eyes back, “Right. Keep telling yourself that YN.”

Before you can protest, your phone vibrates in your pocket, receiving a notification that you’ve gotten a new match on the dating app you’ve been using.

You sat up, scrolling through his profile, “I may have found someone.”

Sunoo raises his brows and glances at your phone and nods in approval.

—

You’ve been on multiple dates with Soobin since then. You haven’t been able to get over how sweet he was. Always opening doors (including car doors) for you. Pulling chairs out and waiting until you sat comfortably before pushing you closer to the table.

He always paid for your meals and coffee. Has even brought you meals and coffee to your workplace and when you’ve gotten out of class. He takes your hand before you cross the street. And walks you to your front door of your apartment, kissing you softly and not walking away until he hears the lock bolt shut.

He was everything you could have hoped for in someone. He did what Sunghoon did and more. You were lucky to have met Soobin.

But something still held you back. You didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t officially asked you to be his girlfriend yet, or that you hadn’t met his friends. Or maybe you were just scared.

But you clung to Soobin anyway, walking down the street with him as the late winter snow started to fall. Soobin stopped walking to step in front of you, pulling your jacket tighter around you, “Are you too cold? Need my jacket too?”

You shook your head, “Thank you, Bin, but I am okay. You need to keep yourself warm too.”

Soobin gave you his bunny smile that you adore so much, watching as his blonde hair waved in the cool wind as he bent down and placed his lips against yours.

Sunghoon just happened to walk out of the coffee shop across the street when he noticed your arm linked with someone he didn’t know. Watching as this man stops in front of you and then kisses you.

Even though his face was tight and non-activated, his heart was breaking. Chills were sent down his spine at seeing someone who was him kissing you.

Sunghoon watched as the guy cupped your face, giving you a couple more kisses before planting one on your forehead and then pulling you to his side to continue walking. Sunghoon ran back inside the coffee shop, praying to whatever god was listening that you didn’t see him.

He spent that night pacing in his living room. Fingers between his teeth chewing at the nail. It was driving him up a wall at the image of Soobin kissing you. It repeated in his brain over and over again and he hated it. Why did he hate it? Why did it bother him? It’s been a year. He’s already done his time of pouting over your loss in his life. Why did he care so much?

Sunghoon kept asking himself that question as his thumbs hovered over your contact information, the photo of him kissing your cheek and the biggest smile on your face was still his contact photo for you. A pink heart emoji was still by your name. His hands trembled looking at the contact.

So he locked his phone and tossed it onto the couch, deciding he wasn’t going to worry about it.

But luck wasn’t on his side as he continued to see you around town with Soobin. And the more he saw you with him, the more Sunghoon started to lose his shit.

Every time Soobin would lean down to kiss you, Sunghoon’s heart would stop beating. Anytime he saw Soobin practically eye fuck you, it took everything in him to not march over and start swinging.

He had to do something—ANYTHING—to get you away from Soobin. To break up with him. To stop smiling at Soobin the way you used to smile at him.

It all kept him awake at night. And one night, Sunghoon broke. Sitting up so fast in bed and grabbing his phone from the charger and dialing your number.

ring…ring…

“Hello?”

Sunghoon nearly had a heart attack, he wasn’t expecting you to answer, “Hey, YN…”

“Sunghoon?” you sleepy said, pulling your phone from your ear to make sure you indeed were talking to Sunghoon. You blinked a few times to make sure you saw the name correctly and then the panic set in. Why was he calling you? When your phone started ringing you just naturally picked it up, being too tired to check the caller ID.

“Yeah, it’s me, love,” he whispers, hands shaking, “Did I wake you?”

You yawn on the other end, “I mean, yeah.”

Sunghoon sighed, “I’ll let you go back to sleep, I’m sorry.”

“No, Hoon what do you want? It’s two AM.”

“I just…wanted to talk to you. Come over? Please.”

You wanted to say no. To hang up the phone and go back to sleep and act like the call never happened. But his voice, the tiredness, and restlessness in it…something was wrong. You felt it.

Now you stood in his living room, standing in front of him as he leaned against the back of his couch. His hair was a mess, heavy bags were under his eyes and he looked like he hadn’t eaten much lately.

“Hoon,” you whispered, “What’s wrong?”

He couldn’t look at you, “How have you been?”

You cross your arms, “I know for a fact you didn’t wake me up at two in the morning to ask me to come here just to ask how I’ve been. Texting would have worked.”

Sunghoon scoffed, immediately putting that barrier over his heart, the one he put up when he realized how madly in love he was with you all that time ago, the barrier that eventually caused you to leave him. Sunghoon has had way too much time lately to think about what went wrong, and after seeing you with Soobin…it was all clear to him, “Right, but I can’t text you if you have a boyfriend, right? Can’t chance him seeing it.”

You looked at him confused, “What boyfriend?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms now, narrowing his eyes at you, “Don’t play stupid, YN. The blonde guy you were making out with on the sidewalk two weeks ago.”

He saw. He’s seen you with Soobin. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you happy, knowing that Sunghoon knew.

“Are you stalking me now?” you raised a brow and scoffed, “Didn’t take you to be that type.”

“I’m not stalking you. I just happened to have seen you with him.”

You roll your eyes, “Soobin isn’t my boyfriend, but if that’s all you wanted to say, then can I go?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer, he just stared at you, trying to find the words to beg you to not go. To stay with him.

You poked your tongue in your cheek, starting to turn away, “Is he better than me?”

You whipped back around to look at him, “Excuse me?”

Sunghoon shrugged, “Is he better than me? There’s no way he is,” he chuckles, “If he was you’d be fucking him right now instead of standing here in front of me.”

Oh, you were heated, “You know what, Sunghoon, this reason right here is why I ended it with you. You’re so toxic and say such shitty and hurtful things and you don’t even care.”

He shrugs, looking away from you and to the hallway, “Can’t blame me when all you do is yell at me.”

There it was. That toxic side. That part where he tries to flip the tables against you.

Tears swelled in your eyes as you looked at him, “I don’t need this,” you turned and walked towards the door, “Goodbye, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon was immediately at your side, grabbing your arm and turning you to face him, “No, baby, please don’t go.”

You tried to push out of his grip, “Don’t call me that! It hurts too much!” The tears were now falling down your face, blurring your vision as you continued to try and push him off you.

Sunghoon gripped both sides of your arms, “Please don’t walk away from me again!” he gently shook you, “I am so fucking in love with you. I won’t be able to handle it if you walk back out that door again.”

Tears were now in his eyes, his body shaking and his knees weak.

You blinked a few times to regain your vision, seeing the man in front of you, seeing how the tears rushed down his face.

Sunghoon fell to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding to your waist and resting his head against your stomach, “I couldn’t stand seeing you with him. It hurt too damn much,” his voice became shaky, unsteady, “I need you, baby, and I am so so so sorry for how I treated you. You didn’t deserve it. I lost sight of who I was. I was scared to let myself fully love. To let you fully love me. And it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I let you walk away. I was toxic, I was an asshole. But I can’t lose you again. Not again. I couldn’t handle it. I don’t know how I survived the first time and I sure as hell know I won’t this time if you walk away from me.”

He sobbed, not being able to stop his tears from drenching the carpet at his knees, squeezing his hands tightly at your side, begging and pleading with you to not leave him.

You slowly rested your hands in his hair, parting it neatly like how he likes it done and slowly sliding your hand down his face. He leaned into your touch, your thumbs wiping away the tears that stained his face.

You still loved him. Every piece of him. Sunoo was right, you looked for Sunghoon in every man you met. Didn’t want to commit because they weren’t him. Soobin was different, yeah, but he still wasn’t Sunghoon.

You knelt down in front of him, not at eye level with him, “Please stop crying,” you whispered, “I’m right here.”

He shook his head, “I can’t lose you again.”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, resting your forehead against his, “You won’t. I’m right here.”

Sunghoon pulled you into his lap, holding onto you for dear life as if someone was going to rip you from him. He dug his face into your neck, squeezing you tightly to him, “I love you and I am so so sorry.”

You leaned into him, “I love you so much, I forgive you.”

You’ve never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so open, and wearing his heart on his sleeve. He’s never held you so tight before. Never kissed your neck and shoulder like he was right now, with so much love and desperation to keep you.

You stayed in his lap until his crying slowly and breathing was steady again. You played with his hair until you felt his grip on you loosen, “You need some sleep.”

He barely was able to shake his head, “I don’t want you to go.”

You forced him to look at you, slowly placing kisses on his moles, “I’ll stay the night.”

Sunghoon slowly nodded, wrapping his arms tightly back around you and carrying you to his room, gently laying you down on his bed and cuddling up to you, pulling you to his chest.

“Baby?”

“Yes, Hoonie?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked up at him, giving a small smile and nod, “I would love that.”

Sunghoon didn’t waste a moment to cup your face and kiss you softly, completely breathing you in.

He was unsteady without you, and it took losing you for him to realize it. You kept him centered. And he’s not going to risk losing you again.

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

#yeonzzzn asks #myiceprince #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #reader x sunghoon #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #exs to lovers #enhypen angst #sunghoon angst #yeonzzzn writing

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babeyun · 18 days

Text

modus operandi ✩ enhypen (m.list)

welcome to precinct seven! balancing the demands of justice with their own demons, the detectives must confront their pasts and navigate the blurred lines between right and wrong in a gripping tale of mystery, betrayal, and redemption.

✩ general warnings: !!SLOW BURN!! fluff, angst, possible suggestive themes/smut for hyungline but unlikely (and if so, it will be tagged individually.) darker/heavy themes (descriptive mentions of crimes.) warnings for individual fics vary, please read them accordingly before proceeding.

✩ series playlist: modus operandi ✩ enhypen [spotify + ongoing]

✩ starry night - yang jungwon ✩

✩ synopsis: your favorite constellation is cassiopeia, and you talk about it as often as you can. what you don't realize is that your eyes hold all the stars, and jungwon sees that more than anyone.

✩ pairing: detective!yjw x delivery driver!reader

✩ genre: acquaintances to lovers | idiots to lovers.

✩ read here!

✩ falling alone - lee heeseung ✩

✩ synopsis: cold cases were heeseung's specialty, and he cracked every single one. cold hearts were your specialty, and you have yet to make a single chip in your husband's.

✩ pairing: lieutenant!lhs x housewife!reader

✩ genre: established relationship to ??? | opposites attract.

✩ read here!

✩ speed drive - park jongseong ✩

✩ synopsis: meeting you is like looking in a mirror of what could have been, who he could have been. it doesn't help that your passion runs deep, deeper than his love for his job.

✩ pairing: detective!pjs x clandestine racer!reader

✩ genre: fated lovers | star-crossed lovers.

✩ read here!

✩ easy, kitty - sim jaeyun ✩

✩ synopsis: after years of being referred to as a white whale by your respective detectives and being poorly sought after by single (and...not-so-single) suitors in your department, you're rescued by sim jaeyun - only for information in return.

✩ pairing: detective!sjy x bookkeeper!reader

✩ genre: fake dating au | unrequited love.

✩ read here!

✩ radio silence - park sunghoon ✩

✩ synopsis: in which you break sunghoon's heart just a little bit more every time you ask him to help you run background checks on any of the suitors on your roster.

✩ pairing: private investigator!psh x radio host!reader

✩ genre: former friends with benefits to ??? | childhood sweethearts.

✩ read here!

✩ dilemmas & desires - kim sunoo ✩

✩ synopsis: kim sunoo was by far your biggeset opponent - both in and out of the court room. he fought his way to the top, and you hated coming in second to his wins...much like you hated being second priority to his studies when you dated in law school.

✩ pairing: attorney!ksn x attorney!reader

✩ genre: rivals to lovers | second chance romance.

✩ read here!

✩ first impressions - riki nishimura ✩

✩ synopsis: first impressions are everything - so when riki spills coffee all over you the first time you meet, it's safe to say you're not very fond of him...right?

✩ pairing: rookie detective!riki x rookie detective!reader

✩ genre: coworkers to lovers | mutual pining.

✩ read here!

author's notes: special thanks to @enhaeven for encouraging me to write this series. i wouldn't be doing this without you, and thank you for always thinking of me and believing in me. i love you! ♡

author's note pt.2: none of these stories are meant to romanticize criminal activity and i do not encourage breaking the law. keep your buffoonery at a minimum. thanks!

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diejager · 8 months

Note

Hi! I've been binging your works and I absolutely LOVE how you write Ghost's character.

I was wondering if I can request mentor! Ghost with an Fem! recruit who's like his mini-me (mask and everything) and some others decide to play a prank and pull off her mask in front of the team, cue angry, protective Ghost. Thank you!

Mask prank

He was reluctant at first, his heart frozen over to a cold, dead and unfeeling thing. Ghost liked to keep himself closed and at an arm’s length of people he didn’t know, you fit in that category. An unknown aspect of his entourage that he hated, he abhorred the new and strange.

An yet, you squirrelled your way into his mind, your jumpiness at loud sounds, your tense figure and flinches when people got near to you, wandering hands of ignorant fools that couldn’t understand your jarring behaviour towards physical touch and that exhausted gleam in your eyes, ones that have seen too much for your age. You reminded him of himself, a younger and pained self with a twitchiness towards touch and an awkward personality.

Perhaps that’s why you got to him so quickly, he tested your limits, standing closer and closer to you every time to see where he had to stop before you crashed. With encouragement from the others, he got to the point where he could touch you, placing a hand on your shoulder or forearm, guiding you this way or that way. You reminded him so much of the person he tried burying, to kill off. You reminded him of Simon Riley.

And yet, he gifted you a mask after your first mission with them, one of his balaclava with a painted skull. He remembered the happiness in your eyes and the joy of his team, letting them embrace you tightly and patting you proudly. He’d never seen anything so precious and worth protecting.

That’s why - he thought - he got so mad at a group of privates that pulled a prank, a mean one, on you. He was there when it happened - he was always near you, whether it’s beside you or in the same room, he was always with you as your support buddy - when the men and women approached you, watching your body grow rigid and tense, a frown hidden under the same mask he wore. It started with harmless banter, them surrounding you without much intent until someone reached for you mask.

You panicked, arms jerking outwards to stop her, but another one pulled the mask off you from behind. You weren’t fast enough and outnumbered, and you were paying the price for it. You froze, hands hastily covering your face in a frenzy of harsh breaths and panicked thoughts.

Ghost saw red, he stomped over to you slumped figure, looming over you and glaring at the calling and jeering group that saw no issue in taking your mask away, your shield.

“The fuck you think you’re doing,” he barked, eyes narrowed so much that his eyes seemed to turn black.

He watched them stutter, lining up before him while he stood before you, blocking their view on your agitated and fearful figure. His eyes stared down at the person who tried to take your - his - mask off and the one who did, burying them down with his gaze alone. If his gaze could kill, they would’ve been burned and buried six feet under a hundred times, that red-rimmed glare with abysmal eyes made his name a joke.

“It- it was a prank, sir!” The person holding your shield in his hand spoke up, trying to defend himself with he word prank.

“A prank? Are you bloody children?!”

What a fucking excuse, they were adults, privates on duty for any deployment and they decided to play a prank on another? He couldn’t believe his ears when they blurred out those words, he couldn’t put his anger in words. He was never good with his emotions, never articulate enough to show or tell people how he felt, it felt jarring.

Without a word, he snatched the mask out of their hands, turning to face you with comforting gestures. He hated how small you made yourself, crumpled into yourself with so much terror, hate and trauma. He pushed the mask over your head, hushed words to your ears alone as e held you by your biceps.

“Scram,” he glared over his shoulders, watching the privates squeak and flee, steps quick and clumsy as they ran from the room.

Turning back to you, he led you away from the room, catching on your shallow breaths and your erratic heart. He walked you to your room with a hand on your upper back, a firm and grounding hand that reminded you that he was here, that you were with him in a disclosed base in the British isles. He stayed the night, taking your desk chair while you dozed off to a night plagued by your demons.

He’d have to leave you under Gaz and Soap’s watchful eyes and talk to Price about this tomorrow. If Price doesn’t do anything about them - although he doubted Price won’t, he was fiercely protective of his group of troubled children - Ghost will have to think of something by himself, a lesson for everyone to remember.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog

#cod mw2 #x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #task force 141 #mw2 #call of duty mw2

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starry-hughes · 17 days

Text

blurring the lines

matt rempe x reader

navigation

summary: after meeting matt in a bar and hooking up, the one night stand turns into something much more.

warnings: heavy allusions to sex, underage drinking, drinking, hangover, slight angst (it lasts like two seconds), mentions throwing up once, matt is a cocky bitch for a little, creepy guy mention

The vodka redbull in your hand wasn’t strong enough. Maybe it was because the bartender secretly knew your ID was fake. Or maybe it was your friend, Wendy, hanging off the neck of a random guy in the bar like always. You were always happy to support her in the search of a nightly hook up but sometimes you wish you were her, the one chosen by the guys in the bar.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

Matt Rempe filled the space next to you at the bar. He wasn’t twenty one yet but his status in New York City with the Rangers was all he needed for the bartender to hand him a beer. “Tons of fun,” you mumbled taking another sip of your drink.

“I’m Matt.”

You almost scoffed. You were a longtime resident of NYC. You knew who he was the second you saw him and his fading black eye. “Matt Rempe. Yeah, I know. 6’7 right?” Your roommates loved the Rangers games so you had been subjected to watch the whole season. Matt smirked. “Usually the height alone gets people flaunting.”

An audible scoff left your mouth that time. “Oh am I not living up to what your ego needs?” Matt’s jaw locked. He was falling for you more each second. “Lovely meeting you Matt,” you finished your drink, “have a good night.”

The guy Wendy was hanging off of followed the two of you to the next bar. Typically, that meant the guy would go home with her. Another drink in and the buzz was good enough for you, you tried staying pretty sober when Wendy was drinking and flirting with unfamiliar guys. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you told her. She nodded before going back to kissing her new companion.

The line for the bathroom was long. The typical line of drunk girls, vape smoke filling the air, guys trying to shoot their shots when girls were just trying to pee. When you finally got out of the line, your hands felt sticky from the cheap soap and you went to make your way back to the bar.

It was crowded. You were bumping into multiple bodies, fighting your way up to the bar. You lost sight of Wendy, probably still in the darkened corner of the bar with the guy she was dragging along. “You here alone?” The guy’s voice made the hair on your neck stand. Slurring his words and trying to reach out to get a hand on you. “You better back off,” you started, getting defensive, ready to throw a punch. “Calm down Rocky,” a voice mumbled from behind you, Matt Rempe’s tall body was soon separating you and the random dude. “You should leave her alone dude,” Matt said over his shoulder to the guy.

“Are you following me?” you accused. “We’re both at the most crowded bar on this street, I was not following you. Are you okay?” Matt asked. Your eyes softened for a second. “Oh, yeah, nothing out of the normal I guess.” He frowned. “I hate that for you.” Matt was growing on you by the second.

You hated admitting that you didn’t want the night to end. “I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” you teased Matt. He leaned on the bar, looking at you, face inches away, “Then tell me to walk away.” Your eyes flickered down to his lips.

It felt exciting but scary as you dragged Matt behind you by the hand. Once you found Wendy, you quickly told her you were leaving for the night and wanted to make sure she got home. The Uber ride was weird, Wendy and the guy she was bringing home making out while Matt and you softly bumped knees the whole drive.

“Sorry it’s a mess,” he was a little red in the face from embarrassment. It was typical for him, it wasn’t even that messy. “It’s okay,” you swallowed. The nerves were setting in. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he stuttered. “Shut up and kiss me Matt.”

You were shivering. You didn’t know if it was from the fact that Matt kept his room freezing cold or because he just had you shaking beneath him. The sound of his headboard hitting the wall was still echoing in your ears. “Do you want to take a shower?” Matt asked, kissing your bare shoulder. “I don’t have any clothes.” “Just borrow mine?”

The shower was hot and warm. Matt had given you a pair of boxers for a shirt and a sweater. You were drowning in his clothes. “Hope the boxers are okay,” he said nervously after you exited the bathroom. The sweater he gave you was pretty big on you, the boxers had to be rolled up a couple of times. He was wearing sweats that hung off his hips a little. “It’s good.” “I can sleep on the couch if you want me to,” he said. “No, I’m okay with sharing the bed.” Within minutes, the two of you were knocked out and asleep.

In the morning, you forgot where you were for a second. Your eyes fluttering open. This definitely was not your bedroom. Then you saw Matt and the memories came flooding back. His alarm was going off. He woke up, scrambling for his phone. “Sorry,” he mumbled into his pillow, “got practice in two hours.”

Silently, you got dressed in the clothes from the night before. Matt watched from his pillow as you got dressed, he just wanted to remember every curve of your body. “Hey Matt,” you cleared your throat, “this is really out of the ordinary for me. I don’t normally just have one night stands.” His face showed relief. “I don’t either. To be honest, this was my first one.” The two of you laughed at the situation. “I would love to see you again. Don’t be a stranger,” he kissed you softly as he walked you to the door and placed you into an uber. Your phone felt a little heavier with his number in it.

The one night stand turned into multiple nights. Most of them ending in the two of you talking and getting to know each other as Matt performed after care. It was weird, but a good weird. Friends with benefits. “Why don’t we ever go to your place?” Matt hummed. “My roommates.”

The next night you brought Matt to your place. Your roommates had told you they’d be gone for the night. You didn’t bother holding back noises and Matt didn’t either. By the morning, your roommates were awake and leaned over cups of coffee in the kitchen, all tired from hearing the noises from your room for hours after they arrived home. “Bye Matt,” you squeaked as you walked him to the door and he awkwardly avoided eye contact with your roommates. “I’m sorry. Was that Matt Rempe?” The jaw of your roommate fell open.

The friends with benefits relationship took a turn when Matt invited you over for dinner. “I don’t really know how to cook?” he admitted. “You invited me for dinner and don’t know how to cook?” “I didn’t think I’d get this far!” His laugh filled the kitchen and your heart skipped a beat. His head leaned down, “I think I really like you.” His lips met yours and you didn’t hesitate to kiss back.

It was a routine. Waking up in bed with Matt, his alarm going off for practice, having what you were 99.9% sure were dates. When he was traveling, you would use your spare key to his place to water his plants. Plus the sex was good. “I need a date,” you caught his lips with yours. He hummed, “I’m going to Toronto in a couple of days.” You already knew that. You had memorized his schedule. “My friend is having a dinner party tonight.”

“I have a game,” he whined. “I would love to come but I can’t.” You frowned. You knew he had a game but for some reason, you were hopeful he would still be able to make it. It was almost like this was the moment of clarity. Matt wasn’t your boyfriend. This wasn’t a real relationship. There weren’t labels on this. You two weren’t exclusive. He had no reason or obligation to show up to your events just because you asked. “I should get going,” you swallowed hard. His blanket was wrapped around your body as you sat up. “(Y/N). Don’t be like that.”

“I have to go Matt.” You gathered your clothes from the night before, getting dressed as Matt searched for his own sweatpants. “Let me walk you down.” You shook your head. “I think I want to walk out alone.”

It was a slap in the face. Realizing that you and Matt weren’t really together. This started as a hook up. You were attached now. You fell in love with waking up next to him, smiling at the tv when your roommates forced you to watch his games, having half dates which were mainly eating dinner before he took you to bed.

The Rangers game drowned on in the background of the dinner party. It wasn’t a formal dinner party, more of a potluck with cheap food and booze. “Thought you were bringing someone,” your friend slid in beside you as you made yourself another drink. “Yeah,” you swallowed, eyes falling on the tv, “he’s busy tonight.” The Rangers lost.

Matt was pissed by the end of the night. His texts weren’t being responded to. You weren’t answering. By the time the game ended and he was out of Madison Square Garden, your heavy hand had poured way too much into each of your drinks. It was crowded in your apartment. The food was picked over and theoretically the party should have been winding down but it wasn’t. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, Matt was calling. “I should take this,” you hiccuped, accidentally standing too fast and toppling over the Drunk Jenga your friends were playing.

“Hello?” Your words were slurring together. “Are you drunk?” Matt immediately questioned. Another hiccup. “Why do you care if I am? You’re not my boyfriend.”

The words stung him. He really did like you. He wanted to be your boyfriend. It was just that every time he wanted to ask you, he chickened out. “Are you at your apartment?” he inquired. “Yeah.” Your voice was annoyed, he was pissing you off. Matt’s long legs helped with the power walk to your apartment. He snuck into the building behind some people who were leaving. He knew his way around.

The apartment door was unlocked but he didn’t want to just walk in. Knocking, he prayed someone would hear him. “Hello,” your roommate sang as she opened the door. “Oh,” she was taken aback. “Um, (Y/N)!” she shouted. Within seconds, a commotion was heard, laughter as you stumbled to the door. Your mouth ran dry. “Matt.”

“Can we talk?” his voice boomed in your ears. He didn’t wait for a response, he pulled you along to your bedroom, ignoring the looks from your roommates and friends watching. “Why are you here?” He sat you on the bed, looking for your typical water bottle you kept in there. “I like you. A lot. You got really cold this morning. I know I’m not your boyfriend but I really want to be. But you’re drunk right now and it’s not right for me to ask you now.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You like me?” He sighed and nodded, “I like you. A lot.”

When the sun poured into the bedroom, you were in your bed, in pajamas now, head pounding and feeling the urge to throw up. Matt was next to you. He felt miles away though. He was still asleep when you stumbled out of bed and went to throw up from the amount of alcohol you had consumed.

You were surprised you even remembered Matt’s confession. But you remembered how much you begged him to stay last night. When you returned to your room, he was awake. “Matt?” your voice was soft. “I like you too. A lot.”

“Kinda gathered that from the way you begged me to stay last night.” Your face heated up. “C’mere.” You embarrassingly made your way to your own bed quickly, sitting there. Matt dragged you into his arms and lap. “Tell me you like me again,” he asked.

“I like you,” you repeated. He kissed you, “I like you too.”

#matt rempe #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #ny rangers imagine #matt rempe blurb #matt rempe fic #matthew rempe

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inkbybambi · 7 months

Text

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

one thing you love about simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. strong, steadfast, there when you need him. even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

not that you’ll tell him that.

you hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

except for simon.

which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. you don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. you've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

but losing simon? you don't think you'd ever get over that.

it's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold your tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

your call log is all simon.

some appointments here and there, but simon everywhere else.

fuck.

you hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

you don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

he answers before the third ring.

"i'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. you take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired.

“no, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. you’re only half-convinced.

"i'm sorry," you begin again. your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. you're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "i didn't know who else to call, and i lost my tram pass, and i don't have an umbrella, and — "

“dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. you ache.

"i can just walk home, i-i'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone.

“darling,” he says, a little stern. not angry, never angry. trying to focus you. “what’s wrong?”

“u-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "i waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "messaged him too, y'know. but he just. didn't show."

you think you hear simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick.

“where are you?”

there's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. you manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking.

“twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “sit there and be good and patient and i’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. you make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

you can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

he says your name gently. you take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. he's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. assessing you, worrying.

"i'm sorry," you croak out. you can't help it. it's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. he doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. his eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "you know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

you can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. he hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"this is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. you were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "you really think i'd let you stay home alone?"

his eyes are so fucking bright. it startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"i..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. his eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "i was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"as if i don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. you scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

you hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

his flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

well.

you might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. it's a you're a bit clumsy thing. simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

his bedroom is familiar as well. which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

you take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. you’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

as you pad back out to the living room, simon’s already on the couch. your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. but you’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

his balaclava is off. the last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv already ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“am i that predictable?” you mumble, a small ‘thank you’ as he hands you a bowl.

he doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

the silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

you blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. you can’t read his eyes. something hot twists in your gut.

“i-i don’t know, simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “maybe?”

he doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “depends how the date went, i suppose. doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. his gaze hasn’t changed. “why?”

his jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “you deserve better ‘n that.”

a confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “i know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

he seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. you feel sick.

dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. you bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. relationships aren’t easy. being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

you never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. you don’t deserve that kind of attention. after a while, they’ll get tired. you’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

it’s easier to be by yourself. the only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“love.” he tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. how hasn’t he tired of you yet?

a hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“what’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

you swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “no one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

frustration burns the back of your throat. isn’t it obvious? you can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. how can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? how could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“you wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. you crumble back into the couch.

“make me understand.”

heat flashes at the nape of your neck. he takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“how aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. you look at him. hesitant. scared.

the silence is loud. his frown deepens. it takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“you know i’d do anything for you, yeah?”

your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“because you do the same for me,” he continues. you doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

his touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. he slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips where the waistband of his boxers start.

you slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. firm and broad and safe.

“you apologize so much. you worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. one hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“you’re allowed to ask for help.”

you shake your head, a “no” caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“oh, love.” he cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “you have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

he lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. but his cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. you’re so tired.

his lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. you’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

#ink by bambi #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley/reader #simon riley/you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley hurt/comfort #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #ghost imagine #modern warfare imagine

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sitkainsnow · 2 months

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Desperately need a fic from a police officer’s pov and they watch SuperBat interactions bc like all the cops either hate or love Bats, but are still kinda terrified of him, but ofc Supes is all sunshine and smiles and “He’s my best friend y’all!” And they KNOW bats probably totally has kryptonite and an attitude worse than the devil.

So they end up in a situation where they’re working together and Batman in taking with the police and Superman’s standing behind him waving and smiling at everyone while Batman is giving single-word or just huffs for answers. And then Superman freezes and cocks his head and to everyone’s surprise grabs Batman by the shoulder and whispers something in his ear and then what’s more surprising is Batman doesn’t even mind as he wraps his own arm around Supes and then they’re gone in a blur of blue and Black. All the cops are just left standing there like 🧍‍♂️shocked bc Bats didn’t mind Supes touching him.

Or another instance where it’s after this big battle in Gotham and it’s with whatever villain but Superman is there too and the villain had kryptonite. Anyways so after the battle Bats is talking to the police and handing over the villain and Superman comes over after talking to the civilians, picks Bats up by the scruff mid sentence politely nods to the officers he was talking too, and moves him a couple feet away and just starts yelling at Bats abt how stupid it is for him to run around jumping in the way of heavy blows EVEN if they have kryptonite and Bats just scoffs and turns his head away and all the police on the area watch as Superman and Batman argue about how stupid it is to risk your life to save the other (they both did it) completely oblivious to their audience and the police whose POV it’s in just thinks “god they sound like a married couple. Wouldn’t it be crazy if the two of the worlds greatest hero’s were actually a couple lmao. But that’s crazy they’re just really good friends”

Gordon watched all this trying not to blow his fuse bc yes, Batman does need to be yelled at, and yes, he does need to prioritize his safety more, but NO, you don’t need to be having your lovers quarrel in front of the whole damn GCPD.

Or in another instance Batman racks up a bunch of charges on him for whatever reason and the GCPD by luck manages to arrest him and so here comes Superman trying to bail his partner(in more ways than one) out of prison and the police are like “we’re really sorry Mr. Superman sir but we can’t legally do that” and Supes goes “what the hell did he even do” and so the officer goes “Property Damage, unlawful violence, arson, punched a cop in the face and broke his nose, caught carrying weed which is illegal in the state of New Jersey, multiple -and I mean multiple- unpaid speeding tickets. Oh, and the DMV wanted us to talk to him about his unregistered Batmobile and Batbike.”and Supes is about to cry as he quietly asks “Okay, so how much is bail” And the officer looks away and mumbled “sixteen grand” and Supes gasps and cries out “I don’t get paid enough for sixteen grand!!”

However thirty minutes later Supes is back at the GCPD station shakily counting out bills bc he can’t use a check or card (obvi) sweating heavily and looking extremely pained. The cops don’t even ask where he got all those bills so quickly and just watch him and another 30minutes later Bats is out and Supes is shaking him by his shoulder shouting “so who’s gonna lag me back!! Who’s gonna reimburse me for for 16k?? Whose gonna apologize for the heart palpitations you gave me?? Whose gonna apologize for all the gray hairs this is going to give me?? You’re giving me gray hairs all the time B!! I can’t do this!!” And Batman just sighs and pats Superman on the back as they walk out of the station and Superman is mumbling about bank credit and loans and how bad he looks with wrinkle lines and gray hair sounding like he’s about to cry.

Meanwhile the police try not to loose their minds throughout this whole interaction and Gordon’s just staring at the door blankly smoking a cigar and the police whose POV it’s in looks at the cigar a little bit closer and goes “That smells like weed” and Gordon looks at her and just says “I feel for Superman a bit more than I want to”

#superbat #batman #bruce wayne #superman #clark kent #superman x batman #jim gordon

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freyaphoria · 8 days

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Ateez Reactions: When You Use Safeword (Maknae Line)

TW: fingering, public (i really hate but), oral, cramps :,( , bondage, using safeword obv

hyung line

San

"You're doing very well, darling. Can you hold on a little longer?" You actually couldn't, but you shook your head so as not to disappoint your boyfriend. You were still a little shy since it was the early stages of your relationship. San increased his speed inside you. He was laying on you while fucking you so much that you started to feel overwhelmed. It had gotten so hot you couldn't focus on the pleasure. "Sannie…" He increased his speed even more. "What happened? You want me to speed up?" You took support from his hair because you wanted to hold on somewhere. "Sannie, slow down" He continued to fuck you without slowing down because he liked to tease you a little. "San please... Slow down!" He couldn't hear you anymore or your voice wasn't coming out. You're starting to get dizzy from the heat and San. "Yellow!" As soon as you said this, he slowed down his speed instantly and looked at your face with a worried look. "What's the matter, dear?" You took a deep breath. "I'm just overwhelmed and everything feels so hot. Can we slow down a bit?" He placed a kiss on your lips. He was still slowly moving in and out of you. "Of course, darling. As you wish."

Mingi

"Huh? Do you like it when I finger you like this?" You didn't know how many fingers he put inside you, but it was definitely more than 2. "Am I doing a good job? It must be so since you're clenching around my fingers." You didn't know how many orgasms you had. You didn't know anything. Your brain was like mush. You could only whine. He changed the position where he had you trapped between his legs and buried himself between your legs. When he started licking your juices, you realized that you couldn't take it. You couldn't handle another orgasm. You wanted to push his head, but he didn't move so you tried to close your legs. "Don't hide from me, kitty, let me take care of you." He grabbed your legs and spread them wide. Your legs are starting to get hurt because you were not very elastic. Suddenly you got a cramp in your left leg. "Agh Mingi stop!!" Of course he thought that your scream was from pleasure and continued. "Strawberry!!!" As soon as he heard your safeword, he moved away from you and you pulled your leg towards you and started whimpering. "What happened? What did I do? I'm so sorry." His eyes widened with concern as you shooke your leg so that the pain will go away. "Did you have a cramp?" You shook your head. His panic seemed very endearing to you. You smiled and caressed his cheek, not wanting him to get any more worried. "Yes, it hurt a lot but it's over now. Don't worry." You winced as you shook your leg because your body was still sensitive. "I shouldn't have opened your legs that wide, kitten." "No Min it's okay. Just give me 5 minutes and then we can continue okay?"

Wooyoung

He was starting to exaggerate being a brat tamer. OK agreed; You had been teasing him in front of his friends all day long, but that does not mean that he will tie you to the bed for an hour, insert a vibrator inside you and sit in front of you, like watching a very exciting show. You had turned into a shaking mass. He loved this helpless state of yours. He headed towards you with a whip in his hand. "Do you realize how angry you've made me, or do you want to stay like this for another hour?" Your brain was blurred and you couldn't understand the words; you didn't understand what he said, you only heard the sentence "one more hour". You couldn't see where he was because you were blindfolded, but you quickly shook your head towards where the voice was coming from. He hit you on the chest with a whip. "Where did your words go? You were talking so well in front of them." He grabbed you by your hair and brought you closer to his face. Even though you couldn't see him, you could hear that sarcastic tone in his voice. "Oh, if you don't want to talk to me, maybe you can talk to San. Like you did at morning." You instantly panicked because you didn't want your best friend to see you like this and Wooyoung always followed through on his threats. "No! Master please-" Your orgasm, which had been waiting to be released for a long time, suddenly released because you panicked. “Hah, looks like you're impressed, bitch. I should definitely call San then." You felt him move away from you. Even though your ears were ringing from post-orgasm, you could still tell what he was doing. He had trained you very well to understand what was going on around you while you were blindfolded. You heard the sound of his phone's screen unlocking. "Master stop! I don't want!" He laughed sarcastically and approached you. "Being the attention-seeking slut that you are, I thought you'd enjoy his attention?" You took a breath when he stopped the vibrator. "Wooyoung stop, really! I don't want that!" "I'll give you 3 seconds to shut up-" "Violet. Untie me." Your voice was very harsh. Wooyoung panicked and untied you. He felt he had crossed the line. "You didn't really think I'd call him, did you? You think I'd let someone else see what's mine? I was just playing doll."

Jongho

You didn't know what happened to Jongho. Normally he would never do such things in public, he would rarely even hold your hand. But now, he was fingering you under the table in front of his hyungs. You were trying not to squirm but he was so good at his job that you had a hard time. You were trying to hold his hands and stop him. Even though your orgasm was so close, you didn't want to cum in front of them. “Jongho stop it.” you whispered but he neither looked at you nor seemed to hear you. He was trying to find a name for the new kitten that Yeosang would adopt. While fingering you. How cute. "If you don't stop, i will-" You didn't even hear your voice but he leaned over and said "then cum for me, love." As you were about to come, Hongjoong asked you something about the cat's name. "Huh? What name?" "Cat's name, what do you think?" he asked you again. You said your safeword both to stop your boyfriend and to make sure it wasn't obvious that you weren't listening to his hyungs. "Peach." Jongho moved his hand as soon as he heard your safeword as a reflex. "What kind of cat name is that?" Wooyoung laughed "Uh, since I'm actually adopting an orange cat, her name might be peach!" While Yeosang was happy to finally find a name for his cat, Jongho gave you a guilty look. "Are you okay? Did I go too far?" "No I just wouldn't be able to hold myself if you didn't stop" you both whispered to each other.

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interloved · 3 months

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modern!anakin skywalker as your professor + age gap

lowkey daddy professor!anakin x bimbo!reader

description box; anakin is your professor and your boyfriend. that blurs the lines between his job and you being his student sometimes — but he can’t ever deny his sweet girl a request, and this time you want him to give his honest opinion on the essay you’ve written for an assignment he gave his students, including you.

warnings; nsfw warning, blow job, MINOR BLOGS DNI!!, age gap, smut under the cut!

HE’S TAKING TOO LONG to read it. he’s rereading the same lines, again and again, and he’s frowning.

“you don’t like it.”

you hate the way your quivers, like you’re weak and… and dependant. oh, but you are. you depend on his every word and action like he’s your lifeline.

“no — no, sweetheart, i do, it’s just…” and then, anakin sighs and sets aside his glasses, looking into your eyes directly with his startlingly piercing, frost-coloured eyes.

he’s struggling to find words that won’t bruise your ego too badly. anakin never lies to you, but he can’t find it in him to give you a brutally honest review.

anakin sits on the couch as you pace nervously in front of him, the table in front of him filled with documents, his laptop and… that damned essay.

“it’s just what?” you inquire, and your voice is already breaking, “you hate my essay! i can hear it!”

and then, all the dams break; you’re turning away from him and all the tears start flooding and the overthinking starts to claw its way into your soul.

“you’re… you’re gonna give me an F! you’re going to fail me, i’m going to fail this class — you, you hate my essay…” you’re falling into complete despair.

anakin winces, this is exactly the reaction he had wanted to prevent.

“oh, c’mere, sweet girl, i don’t hate your essay. it’s just a little, er… childish wording, but that’s nothing to worry about — ‘m not gonna fail you, all right?”

you sniffle, and for a moment, your tears stop. “y-you’re not?”

anakin winces again — he may be your boyfriend and he may love you, but he’s also your professor and has to keep a certain neutrality towards the work you offer to him as his student. but he can’t deny it, being so close to you, it’s been blurring the lines of professionalism. you’re such a sweet, little thing — so pretty and so young, so soft and so kind-hearted. he couldn’t ever say no to any of your requests.

and maybe you’ve learned to use that against him somehow. he’s given you way too many A’s and B’s that you did not deserve because as much as he loves you as a person, you are a bad writer. you’re not hopeless; there is definitely a good basic idea and core in every one of your essays, just the execution… somehow fails to be amazing every time. and he’s not exaggerating.

“yeah… yeah, i’ll give you a C, m’kay, kid? it’s not a bad essay, pretty, it just needs a little polishing.” he comforts you, caging your, in comparison to him, small frame in his warm, trained arms.

but this time, you frown. “a C? you… you’ve never given me a C before.”

it’s always been A’s and B’s.

anakin struggles to find the right words again, “well, this time your performance was a tiny bit… lacking… but just a little, darling, no need to cry — aw, sweetheart, don’t cry…”

“l-l-lacking? i’m… lacking?” you wail as you push away his arms and pace to the kitchen, this time sobbing violently.

when he reaches you, your eyes are all puffy and red, and he panics.

“no, you’re not lacking!” he protests, think, anakin, think, “i’ll… i’ll give you an A, m’kay? so stop crying, please, you’re too pretty to be crying like that over a grade.”

your sobbing stops slowly, and a relieved smile makes its way onto your lips. “r-really? thank you so much, ani! love you so much!”

you squeal and jump into his arms, and it’s like the rainbows have started showing after the storm. anakin laughs at your excitement but mentally slaps himself — he’d sworn himself he wouldn’t give you good grades without you earning them anymore, but it appears he really just can’t say no to his little darling.

“i’ll make it up to you, i promise!” you swear to him, covering his handsome face with kisses, and he grins cheekily.

“oh really? how’re you gonna do that, little lady?” he chuckles good-naturedly.

and you think, you think real hard. and you jump down, out of his embrace, and you thank him in the only way you know.

you lead him to the couch and settle between his legs, and you unbuckle his belt.

“oh, like that? i didn’t mean that—” anakin stops whatever he was going to say when you take him whole. whole.

a choked, throaty moan escapes his lips and almost automatically, his big hands reach for your hand; his hand almost covers the whole back of your head, and his fingers are getting tangled in your soft hair, and he bucks up into your soft lips.

“fuck,” he groans and he closes his eyes, and he looks so breathtaking, so handsome, like a greek god, “god, what did i do to deserve you… such a beautiful, obedient girl… must’ve saved a country in my past life to deserve you.”

he feels your lips curling up at his praise and he looks down, and it’s a sight to behold. big, innocent doe eyes looking up at him like he’s a god you’re worshipping, nothing but pure admiration and love shining in those eyes.

“my god, you’re so adorable,” he praises you, eyes closed and brows furrowed so prettily, moaning when you begin to deepthroat him, your pretty head going up and down, up and down, “so, so, so pretty…”

and then, his chiselled abs tenses, his thighs quiver slightly, and you know he’s close.

“c’mon,” he whispers, “swallow.”

and you obey, like his good little girl.

if he’s getting thanked this dedicatedly by a student, surely he can make exceptions from time to time.

he doesn’t get paid enough anyway.

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #obsessive anakin #star wars #star wars anakin

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mermaidgirl30 · 5 months

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✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Masterlist✨

dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: Hey, guys! Super excited to kick off my first dbf! Joel series. It was originally going to be a one shot, but after some thought I wanted to write more. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Always like to hear your thoughts ☺️ Joel is a menace in this one! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Summary: After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long?

Pairing: dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Porn with Plot, dbf! Joel, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, dom! Joel, (reader is 25, Joel is mid 40’s)

Part 1: Blurring the Lines

Part 2: Secret Glances and Wandering Hands

Part 3: October Surprises and Secrets Slurred

Part 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts

Part 5: Let Me Take You There

Part 6: Hot Tubs and Calloused Fingers (Coming Soon!)

Part 7

Recommended songs for series “Scary Love” and “Daddy Issues” and “A Little Death” by The Neighbourhood

Part 1 Word Count: 13.6k

The warm August air blows your long hair gently as you sit outside Moonlight Bar, letting the Austin city lights shine in the distance. The lighting is low as the dark blue luminescence of the bar surrounds the alcohol on the back shelf and various plants hang above the edges of the bar. The Goo Goo Dolls play softly across the outside speakers as people mingle together at various white wooden tables strewn across the manicured green lawn. It’s a busy night, one of the more popular bars in the area.

You’re sitting with William. One of the boys that’s in one of your law classes at the University of Texas. He wouldn’t leave you alone at school, so you figured you’d appease him and let him take you out on a date.

He isn’t bad looking. He has shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He’s built like a body builder and has a jawline so sharp that it could cut someone. He’s nice and all, but he won’t stop talking about fucking football. You hate football, but you just smile and nod along to what he says. Occasionally rolling your eyes when he isn’t looking at you.

“Did you see the quarterback get slammed at the game last Saturday? Tim took him out hard! I thought he’d never get up!” he says starstruck as he shows you a picture from the game on his phone, slamming back another drink of vodka as he lowers it to the table.

“I already told you I didn’t watch the game,” you say, trying not to sound obnoxious.

“Oh, right. Well, you missed out. It was awesome!” he shouts as the group of people next to you look at William. You internally groan at the embarrassment that’s caked on your face. You need to get up for a few minutes. You’re bored and want to cut the talk on sports.

“I’ll be right back,” you utter as you get up from the barstool.

“Where are you going?” he asks with a hurt expression on his face.

“To the bathroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes, chill,” you say as you put a hand on his shoulder encouragingly and walk away. You roll your eyes at the action and start walking towards the back where the bathrooms are.

William really is a nice guy, he just isn’t the guy for you. You don’t have that much in common, and he’s way too into football. Granted, he did play as an undergrad, but you don’t really care. You want to talk about subjects other than sports, like maybe something you care about. He never makes an effort to ask you about yourself though. He just wants to talk about sports and his gym routine.

What a bore.

He’s a few years older than you. He’s twenty-eight, and you’re twenty-five. Soon to be twenty-six in a couple of months. You always had a thing for older guys. But lately you had your eyes set on someone else. Someone off limits to you which made you want him even more. But it would never happen. You needed to quit telling yourself it would. He’s too old for you, in his mid forties. Which only makes you that much more curious.

You aren’t watching where you’re going as you round the corner of a small crowd and run straight into someone who feels like a thick brick wall.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going and…” You stop mid sentence as you see just who stands in front of you.

Joel Miller. Your dad’s hot best friend, the older man you can’t get out of your head.

“S’alright, sweetheart. Didn’t think I’d run into you here,” he says as he laughs, his smile making his honey brown eyes crinkle up at the corners, making you swoon and melt under his gaze.

God, he’s pretty.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with surprise in your voice.

“Havin’ a drink? It’s the weekend. Gotta relax somehow,” he says with another small smile as his Texas accent comes out thick and low. That melodic southern accent that could put you at ease on any given day.

“Oh, right.” You move a lock of hair behind your ear nervously and you swear he watches you a little too closely as his eyes trail to your neck, keeping his gaze there a little too long.

“You come with anyone tonight?” he asks as he looks around the crowded bar, bringing his focus back to you.

“Yeah. Came with a date tonight. Someone from one of my classes,” you say carefully.

His bottom lip twinges and his jaw clenches just enough for you to notice. His bicep flexes around his forest green plaid shirt as it’s rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider all the way down his lower arms as they end in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight of him, of how seriously hot he is.

Was he jealous of William? Surely not…right?

“You be careful tonight. Don’t let him do anything you don’t want to,” he warns with a deep gruff in his voice, staring at you with serious, dark eyes.

“He’s not going to do anything. He’s nice. He’s-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. “Doesn’t matter if he’s nice. He’s a guy. He can change up on you like that.” He snaps his fingers, looking at you intently. “Jus’ be careful, okay?”

Why was he being like this? Protective. He wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to keep an eye on you. You had it under control.

“I’ll be careful, but you really don’t have to tell me that. You sound just like my dad,” you say as you roll your eyes, annoyed.

“I ain’t your dad, sweetheart. Jus’ tryin’ to look after ya is all. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

Oh.

“Right. Okay…” you say quietly.

Joel skates his eyes down your body as he takes in the tight black tank top as your cleavage spills out a little too much, going over your short, light blue jean shorts as they barely graze your tan thighs, dragging his eyes down your long legs and ending at your clean, white Converse shoes as he slowly looks back up into your eyes.

You suddenly feel self conscious, like you need to cover up a little more. Not like he hasn’t seen you in short shorts and a tank top before. Hell, he saw you in a slinky bikini last summer at a pool party and the man couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

You wouldn’t lie though, you love when he notices you. When he flicks his eyes over you and lingers just a little too long, making you burn with heat from his intense stare. He’s the one you have wet dreams about, the older man you can’t quite shake from your fantasies. But he’s off limits. Because he’s your father’s best friend. And he would never dare touch his best friend’s daughter…right?

“Well, I’ll let ya get back to it. Don’t wanna keep ya from your date. I’ll be around here if ya need me. Just shoot me a text.”

You nod in reply and make your way over to the bathroom, turning to watch Joel disappear into the crowd somewhere. A sea of green getting lost in the abyss. You sigh and walk into the bathroom, trying to get a hold of yourself.

You had met Joel when you were just eighteen years old. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and your dad made quick friends with him. Pretty soon they were best friends. He was always coming to the house to hang out with your dad, always coming to pool parties or cookouts. He even taught you how to play guitar when you asked. And he was a good teacher, the way his hands slid across yours. Those rough, calloused fingers. You’d do anything to be able to feel those again on your skin.

You wondered how they’d feel on your thighs or even someplace else. Someplace sensitive…

You finish up in the bathroom and make your way back to William. Back to where you belong tonight. You need to stop thinking about Joel. He wasn't the one that was taking you out and never would be. Even if that’s something you want, so badly.

“Oh, you’re back. You missed this great conversation me and this guy had about Jake’s pass last week with the football. It was killer!” he shouts as you settle back into your barstool and get situated.

You roll your eyes and give him a polite smile. You’re so over the football talk. Couldn’t he give it a rest? You take a large drink from your red bull vodka and place it back on the bar top as you chase it down, letting it leave a slight burn in your throat.

When you look back up and turn your head slightly to the left, you almost fall off the barstool as you see Joel sitting across the bar, just on the opposite side. He’s drinking what looks to be a cold glass of whiskey on the rocks as the amber color swirls in the cup.

He takes another sip as he keeps his eyes fixed on you intently, letting his eyes roam up and down your body as a faint snarl edges the side of his mouth as he looks over at William.

Holy shit. He is jealous. You can see it in those dark brown eyes as they slightly narrow at the loud mouthed man that sits next to you as he rambles on about football.

He swirls the short straw around his drink as he eyes you again, this time his gaze relaxing into warmth as a gentle smile plays on his lips. You blush at the brooding man and bite your lip as you look down, unable to keep your focus on the intense dark eyes that are staring at you.

What’s his deal? He never dared tried to flirt with you before. Not like this. At least not around your dad. You always felt that invisible line get drawn at times though. Like last summer when you were in a tight, short dress, about to go out with some friends for the night. You felt his eyes burn through you as he stared at your thighs as he glazed over your toned, tanned body. You could feel it in the room how thick the tension was. But he didn’t dare cross that line. Not while he was in the presence of your father.

Joel’s a good guy. He’d never do anything to disrespect or hurt you. He’s kind and caring, always willing to help you out when you need it. Like with your projects or guitar. Or that time when he picked you up when your car got stuck in the snow and drove you all the way back home in the middle of an ice storm.

He’s special. One of a kind. You just don’t understand why he’s still single when he’s drop dead gorgeous. And his curls.

God, his curls. The way his thick, tousled hair curls at the edges as grey streaks line his dark hair. And his beard. That thick, scruffy salt and pepper beard that you want to graze your fingers across in a flirtatious manner. Thinking of how good his lips might feel on yours. How soft and velvety they must be…

You snap out of it as William tries talking to you again. You avert your eyes from Joel and put your attention on the guy that sits next to you.

“Did you finish the paper yet from Mr. Lawrence’s class yet?” he asks as he takes a sip of his vodka drink.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been done for a few days now. Wanted to knock it out before more work got piled on,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Cool. I still got a ways to go. But anyways, you wanna go to the football game next weekend? Our team’s playing here. Thought you’d want to maybe go with me?” he asks with raised eyebrows and green eyes that search yours, hoping for a yes to come from your lips.

That was a hard pass. “Sorry, I already have plans that day,” you lie, trying to sound apologetic to soothe his hopefulness.

“That’s fine. There will be other games.”

You roll your eyes as you internally groan. You’re bored and you don’t want to be sitting here with him anymore. You need someone that isn’t boring. Someone that’s older, much older. Someone with pretty brown eyes and thick arms covered in plaid…

You look up from your long, thick lashes and meet Joel’s stare again as it sears through your skull. His gaze is so intense that it stirs something low in your stomach that feels a lot like heat.

This was bad. Really bad.

You squeeze your legs shut and put out the growing fire, dropping your gaze again so you won’t be tempted to be pulled back into the flames.

William puts a hand on your thigh and leans into you as you catch a whiff of his strong vodka drink on his breath. Joel looks like he could break the glass right under his fingertips the way he’s holding the cup.

Oh, he’s mad. But why? It’s not like he was supposed to take you out. He’s your fucking father’s best friend for God’s sake. You need to get out of the sick delusion that Joel actually likes you more than his best friend’s daughter. He’s only trying to be nice, protective. He’s only looking out for you because that’s what he should be doing, for your dad.

But then why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to eat you alive and wants to snap the neck of your god awful date.

“You okay if I do this?” William asks as he rakes his teeth over your neck roughly. Nothing is sexy about it. It hurts and his teeth are sharp, and his breath smells horrible. He puts his hand back on your thigh and squeezes as his nails dig into your skin in an extremely uncomfortable way. You wince at his actions.

“William, no. We’re in public. I don’t think-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Joel’s on him in a second, pulling him away from your body as he yanks him out of his seat. Your breath catches at the way Joel is seething and breathing hard as he glares at William with daggers in his dark eyes.

“Don’t think she wants ya doin’ that,” he snarls as venom shoots from his tongue.

“Who the fuck are you to touch me and pull me from my woman?” he yells at Joel as his nostrils flare and his green eyes turn to tiny slits.

“She ain’t your woman,” Joel scoffs, clearly annoyed at the younger, less mature male.

“Oh, and who are you? You her keeper or something?” he asks angrily.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replies, his voice clipped.

Your eyes widen at the statement. Was he marking his territory? He had to be. Or maybe he was just being protective, helping out his best friend to keep his daughter safe. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it did. You can’t tell one way or the other. Your mind’s a blur.

William rolls his eyes and looks over at you. “You want to get out of here? Come on, I’ll-”

You stop him before he can finish that sentence. “No.”

He goes livid as his green eyes turn to murky swamp water. “No? Are you fucking serious?” he asks with shocked words.

“The lady said no,” Joel states firmly as he steps in front of you, blocking William’s view.

“Baby, come on. Let’s go,” William demands, holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m not yours…” you reply quietly.

“Fine! You can walk home then, bitch,” he says with clenched teeth and a hard line across his forehead.

“Watch how you fuckin’ talk to her,” Joel growls as he pushes William up against the bar table, making the rest of his vodka spill as it lands in a heap on the floor along with the mixed in broken glass.

“You really want to go there? Because I’ll tear you apart,” William yells.

“Go on then. Try.” Joel bares his teeth and flexes his hand into a tight fist.

You can’t let them fight. You won’t let Joel get hurt, even if he can take on William. What would your dad say?

You quickly intercept and step in between them. You put your hands on Joel’s broad chest and try to push him back. “Joel, stop. He’s not worth it.”

Joel clenches his jaw and stares hard at William, about to put a fist in his face. You put your hand over his tight fist and beg him to stop. “Please.”

Joel’s fist relaxes as he looks down at you, his brown eyes softening just the slightest as he focuses on you. Butterflies were swimming through your stomach at the heat that was between the two of you. You had never been this close to Joel. You were only inches from his mouth, so close that you could reach out and brush your lips over his. So very close…

William rips you away from your thoughts as you hear him grab his keys and turn sharply your way. “Have it your way. Enjoy the old man’s company. I’m out of here.” He storms away from the bar in a hurry, leaving you and Joel alone. Together.

You suddenly realize you’re still leaning against his chest, your hand still planted firmly on his. You drop your hand and back away from his space as you rake a hand through your soft curls.

“Thanks for that. You didn’t have to,” you say nervously, your voice cracking at the thank you.

“Save it, darlin’. I could already tell you weren’t havin’ a good time, and then he put his hands all over you. Greedy bastard.” He bares his teeth as he clenches his jaw.

Greedy bastard? Well, goddamn. He does like you. He had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you like this. Right?

“Oh uhh, yeah…” You don’t really know what to say to that. And the way he’s flaring his nostrils is making you have heart palpitations. He had never looked that mad before. At least not over you.

“You want a drink? It’s on me,” he says as he tilts his head toward the bar.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying not to act like you’re flipping circles inside.

“C’mon then.” He walks you to the bar and pulls out a barstool for you as you sit down. He takes a seat next to you, gently brushing his thigh against yours as he gets into place. You can’t help but gasp a little at the touch. It feels electric.

The young, red head bartender comes over and asks for your drink orders. “Hi, guys. What’ll it be tonight?”

Joel looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, looking you over slowly as if he’s trying to figure it out. It makes chills run down your spine. “Let me guess. Malibu sunset?”

He never gets it wrong. He knows your drink of choice like the back of his own hand. It was that slight attention he always gave you that did it for you. He was always listening, always so attentive when you spoke. He knew you so well it was almost scary. No other man had paid that much attention to you, nonetheless listened to you ramble about your likes and dislikes. But Joel always did.

“You remembered?” you ask with a faint smile.

“‘Course, darlin’. How could I forget?”

You slightly blush and place your arms on the bar top as you lean on it, trying to calm yourself down. He orders his usual whiskey on the rocks, his drink of choice. A scent that you can sometimes smell on his breath when he’s sitting close to you like now. Something you want to taste on his tongue. But that’s only a daydream. That would never happen. Right?

“So, how’s school going this semester?” he asks as he turns towards you, placing one of his arms on the bar top as his plaid shirt squeezes around his flexed bicep, making you uncomfortably hot just looking at his massive arms.

“It’s going well. I mean, it’s hard. Really hard, but I’m managing. I can’t tell you how many papers I’ve had to write already, but I seem to be doing something right because I have straight A’s,” you beam.

“Straight A’s huh? You always were a sharp thing.” He’s looking at you with those deep honey eyes, gently smiling as he admires you. A sight that makes you weak at the knees as you stare at his perfect dimples.

And those eyes. God, those pretty brown eyes. You want to drown in them. Let them grab hold of you as they drag you deeper and deeper until you suffocate under the weight of them.

“Actually, I’m at the top of my class,” you brag, nonchalantly.

Joel lets out a low whistle as he leans back in awe, giving you a once over. “‘Course you are, darlin’. Such a smart girl…” he whispers low and deep, making you bite your lower lip slowly.

There it was. That tension in the air. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the room. That deep smolder that puts dangerous daydreams in your mind. Hot, sticky daydreams…

The bartender breaks the tension as he sets the drinks down in front of you and walks back off without so much as a “let me know if you need anything else” line. He just walks away and helps some loud couple on the other side of the bar.

You swirl the straw around your yellow, pineapple drink and take a sip, letting the tropical taste run down your throat. It’s sweet and delicious, just how you like it.

Joel picks up his whiskey glass and takes a generous gulp. You watch as the rim of the glass kisses his lips, how he takes his tongue and runs it over the bottom of his lips, how he holds the glass tightly as the amber liquid clinks against the ice. You never wanted to be a glass as bad as you did now.

You bite your lip slowly as he puts the glass down and wipes his bottom lip with his thumb as he slowly grazes it over his lip. It’s slow, seductive, the hottest thing you had ever seen. You want to know just how soft those lips are, how good he tastes, how his calloused fingers would feel on your skin…

You shake your head and free the dirty thoughts from your mind. He’s your father’s best friend! This couldn’t happen. Ever. But fuck did you want it to. You never wanted anything as bad as this in your whole entire life. He was just so…perfect.

Last summer when your family had a party at the lake house, your friends all whispered how hot Joel was in his tight grey t-shirt and swim trunks. They’d say how built he was, how he must be great in bed, and they had called him the hottest dilf they’d ever seen. Of course they were right, but you were jealous of them. Because you wanted to be the only one that had eyes for him. You wanted him. Period. Even if he was strictly off limits.

He sits the glass down on the smooth bar top and turns back around, putting his full attention on you. “You uhhh, been seein’ anyone besides that handsy asshole lately?” he asks with darker eyes, a hint of anger on the tip of his tongue as his eyebrows furrow together.

There it was. That jealousy swirling off his tongue. Or overprotectiveness. Or possibly both. You couldn’t tell which it was.

“No, not really. Haven’t been dating much lately,” you say quietly.

“How come?” He’s curious. His eyebrows raise and he focuses intently on you, leaning in just a tad bit closer so he can hear you over the noisy crowd.

“Guess I just haven’t been interested in anyone,” you shrug, blowing it off like it isn’t a big deal, but apparently it is to him.

“Oh, but I’m sure guys are always askin’ ya out. A pretty thing like you, surely. Bet all their eyes are on ya.”

A pretty thing like you? The man just called you pretty. You swear you see stars in your eyes. The room feels dizzy as you take another drink, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“I mean, not really,” you shake your head disagreeing.

“I don’t really believe that, you’re gorgeous. They’re missin’ out on a great girl. Just give it time. You’ll find someone worth your while.” He takes another sip of whiskey and looks at you from the corner of his eye, keeping those brown eyes only on you.

A great girl? Gorgeous?! You can’t help but feel a little disappointed when he says that you’ll find someone worth your while. You don’t want to find just someone, you want him and only him. That’s what you really want. But you need to stop mixing reality with fantasy. Joel would never let that happen. He wouldn’t disrespect your father like that or would he? You hoped he would.

“Have you finished my guitar yet?” you ask all of a sudden excited to see it. Joel was customizing your acoustic guitar and carving sunflowers into the wood. You’d asked him if he could do it because his woodwork was exceptional and you only wanted your guitar in the best hands. He said yes automatically, giving it no thought.

“I am. Just want to polish it up and then she’s all yours,” he says proudly, his smile crinkling up the edges of his mouth, exposing his adorable dimples that you love.

“Can I come see it?” you ask, almost begging with your eyes.

“Tonight?” he asks, hesitating just a bit with his voice.

“I mean, unless you have other plans,” you say, shrugging your shoulders slightly. He looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes, and you notice his hand on his thigh slowly flex like he’s in deep thought.

Why was he hesitating? He had never hesitated around you before. But also, you’d never really been alone with him before. He’d occasionally picked you up a couple times or you’d be alone with him in the room for a few minutes at your house while your dad was grabbing something, but not in his house. Not alone, just the two of you.

He finally speaks as he runs a hand through his tousled curls, watching as they fall back into place perfectly. “No, don’t have any other plans. So, yeah. You’re welcome to come see it. I’ll have you try it out, see how you like it.”

“Maybe you can give me another lesson? It’s been awhile. You’re a great guitar teacher, best I ever had,” you smile at him, just on the edge of being flirtatious and drawing that thin line that you were about to cross.

“That so, darlin’?” he smirks, giving you butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your fruity drink.

“Well, glad to hear it. And we’ll see,” he says in a low voice.

He finishes up his whiskey and waits patiently for you to finish off your drink. As soon as you’re done, he pays for the drinks as the bartender takes up the tab.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks as he stands up, pulling out his barstool.

“More than ready,” you respond as you get up and pull your denim shorts down. Joel’s eyes wander down to your tan thighs, and you swear you see that smoldering stare burning in his eyes return as he takes in the sight of your long legs. His gaze stays a few seconds too long as he quickly looks back up into your eyes, trying to play it off as he runs a hand through his thick curls slowly.

A low heat starts in your core, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the tension that was there. You’re already wet from seeing how your long legs affected him.

Fuck. You wanted him. Bad.

“Alright, c’mon then. Truck’s this way.” He leads you out of the busy bar as you wind your way through the crowd of people. He puts his hand on the small of your back, and you almost jolt at the action. He’d never done that before. But it feels…good. And you want his hand to continue to stay there, burning all the way down to your skin.

When you get out to the white Chevy, he unlocks the doors and then you climb into the front passenger seat. It’s nice and clean in here and smells like him. That woodsy pine smell that you love just lingering in the air. It makes you a little dizzy.

After he buckles his seatbelt, he puts the key in the ignition and then the truck rumbles lightly, the engine roaring to life. Ghost plays softly on the radio as the volume is turned low. You played Joel one of their songs a while ago and then he got hooked on them. You had to applaud yourself for getting him into your taste of music. Maybe one of these days he’d take you to their concert.

“I see you’re still listening to Ghost?” you ask with raised brows as you look over at him, laughing. He’s holding the steering wheel tight as he drives down the busy city streets, paying close attention to where he’s going.

“‘Course. Can’t believe you got me into them,” he says as he shakes his head, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Well, you can’t deny they’re good. I mean, come on. Tobias is a musical genius,” you go on, getting lost in the song that’s playing on the speakers.

“No, you’re right. He’s good. Wouldn’t mind seein’ them if they ever decided to come to Austin,” he replies as he turns a corner, rotating the steering wheel sharp as his large hands grip around the leather. You watch the way his knuckles grasp the steering wheel strongly, wishing you could feel those hands on your body instead.

“Would you take me?” you ask quietly, blurring the lines of a boundary you shouldn’t cross.

His jaw slightly flexes as he flicks his eyes over to you. “If you’d wanna go, I’d take ya.” He looks back at the road before you respond.

“Really?” you ask shocked, not expecting that answer.

“Mhm. Might be fun,” he hums.

You sit back in your seat and smile out your passenger side window triumphantly as you watch the glow of the evening city lights pass by in a blur. This was nice. Having a little alone time with Joel. You didn’t think it’d go anywhere, but you were still glad you were here. With him.

Ghost’s song “Spillways” comes on next, and your eyes go wide as you jolt forward, reaching for the volume so you can turn it up. “I love this song!” you say excitedly.

You guess Joel had the same idea because he ends up reaching for the volume too. Your hand connects with his as he brushes against the top of yours. You gasp at the contact of his rough hand and quickly pull it away.

When Joel drops his hand, it connects with a plastic water bottle in the cup holder and sends it over the edge, tumbling down your way. He quickly reaches out to catch it, but he misses as it goes spiraling to the floorboard. Instead, his hand lands right on top of your thigh as his calloused fingers connect with your smooth skin.

Your eyes go wide as you hold in a breath. His hand feels so good. Both rough and soft at the same time, somehow the two intermingling with each other. His fingers gently curl against the edge of your thigh, lingering there a few seconds too long until he quickly grabs his hand away, bringing it back to the steering wheel hurriedly like his hand is on fire.

“Shit. Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to, well. Put my hand on ya,” he says hurriedly, apologizing in a quick breath.

“It’s okay…” you say slowly, still catching your breath from what just happened.

He lets out a drawn sigh as he takes his right hand and runs it through his tousled curls, looking like he’s in pain or fighting off something deep in his mind. He slowly brings his hand back down and barely grazes the steering wheel. He slowly flexes and extends his hand, the same hand he touched you with. It’s like he just pulled his hand from boiling water, like your thigh ignited something in him. Something hot and tempting…

He brings his hand up and rakes it through his scruff, his eyes in deep thought as his eyebrows furrow together. That touch to your thigh definitely affected him. You can clearly see that. You want to test the waters and bring his hand back down to your burning thigh. Let him trail his fingers up and down your inner thigh as they tease you, as they send slick down your center…

He sighs again before speaking. “Maybe I should just take ya home,” he says undecidedly, his voice right on the edge of shakiness.

Back home? Without going to his house first? No, no, you wouldn’t let that happen. This was your chance. Your one chance to test just where this would go. And you would not go back home without at least trying your luck.

“No,” you say a little too loud, a little too demanding.

“No?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question at the harsh words that came out of your mouth.

“I mean…I just really want to see my guitar. Please?” you beg with a pleading voice, batting your eyelashes with the most innocent expression you can muster up.

Joel does a double take at you with his hand over his mouth, deciding if he should take you home or not, and then he nods in agreement. “Alright, alright. You can come see it,” he sighs.

Yes! You were screaming in silent victory at the win. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand. You just had to play it cool and not get pushy. If he wanted to make a move, then he’d be the one to do it. You wouldn’t push him. The next steps were all on him.

He was driving with one hand now as he leaned on the driver’s side window with his elbow, his hand gently resting under his jaw. He seemed to be lost in thought about something, his eyes pierced with attention on the road. And then it was silent except for the faint hum of the stereo. An uncomfortable silence you’d rather not sit in, so you decide to start up a conversation.

“So, how’s work going?” you ask, hoping it’ll break him of whatever intense trance he’s under.

“Busy, like usual. Got a few clients in this week, so my employees have been busy with those new projects. Have to say that I’ve been a little overwhelmed lately. Been workin’ late a lot. I feel bad cause a lot of the time I come home, Sarah’s already asleep. So I’ve been missin’ time with her. But I just hired a few more employees, so I’m hopin’ I’ll finally work some normal hours and not a ton of overtime like I have been.” He huffs out in annoyance, his forehead creasing into wrinkles as he rakes a hand over his mouth.

Poor Joel. He looks so frustrated, tired even. You slowly reach a hand out and sit it on his shoulder to show your understanding. “Hey, I’m sure Sarah understands. And I’m sorry you’ve been overworked. Hopefully things lighten up and you can get more time at home. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Especially with taking on side projects with my guitar. If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have asked you,” you say in an apologetic voice, slowly bringing your hand back down to rest in your lap.

“No, it’s okay. I wanted to do that for ya. It’s no problem. I enjoyed working on it. And thank you, for the kind words. You always know just what to say to calm me down.” He looks over at you and gives you a small smile, nodding his head in a thank you.

“Oh, okay. And I try,” you say as you swallow.

You watch him turn on Waterlake Drive as he pulls into your neighborhood. Except you aren’t going home. Not yet anyways. You’re going to his house.

You pass your street and drive four blocks down as you turn on the dimly lit road. Houses aren’t right next to each other as each house has a big yard and their own privacy. Joel turns into his wide driveway and stops the truck, putting it into park.

Joel’s house is a big two story house that has a wraparound porch on the outside with blue shutters on the arched windows. There are two wooden rocking chairs that sit on the porch, and the yard is covered in towering oak trees. It’s a really pretty house, one that’s too big for only two people, but he fills up the space with all his projects that are lying around just waiting for him to finish.

You get out of the truck and slam the white door shut as you hear the beeping noise of Joel locking the truck. He takes out his keys and places the golden house key in the lock as he turns and opens the door.

“C’mon in,” he says as he opens the door for you, waiting for you to pass through.

You step through and make your way down the polished dark, wooden floors. Pictures of Joel and Sarah hang all along the staircase as you pass right by, heading for the living room.

The living room’s done up in tall white walls with pictures of Lake Texoma and wildlife sprawled across the side walls. A huge 70-inch flat screen sits mounted on the middle of the wall and a big cream colored couch sits in the middle of the room with a couple of leather recliners sitting a few feet apart from each other. A small, wooden side table with a luminous lamp sits next to the couch as it shines light throughout the room. And a tall, glass cabinet sits in the corner of the room that’s full of old Rock and Roll albums that both Joel and Sarah collect. It’s really homey, peaceful. You liked coming over here, even though you have only been a couple of times.

“Where’s Sarah at?” you ask, looking around the quiet house.

“She ain’t here. She’s at a friend’s for the weekend,” he responds as he walks back in from the open kitchen.

Oh. So you were all alone with him. In his house.

Fuck.

“Well, have a seat and I’ll go grab your guitar,” Joel says as he exits the room.

You take a seat in the middle of the couch and try to relax, but you’re still flustered from Joel putting his hand on your thigh. It was probably just an accident. You were probably just blowing it all out of proportion, so you needed to calm the hell down. But you’re all alone with him, and that makes heat build in the pit of your stomach.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Joel comes back into the room with your guitar in his hands. He has it flipped to where you can’t see the front of it, keeping it a surprise for you.

“Alright, here it is. Why don’t you take a look.” He flips it around to where you can see it, and you gasp at how stunning it is.

The solid, light spruce guitar looks as if it’s shining. The strings are completely redone, and the narrow neck and body look like they have been resanded to perfection. But what catches your eye the most is the gorgeous, carved etchings in the acoustic guitar that makes patterns of sunflowers all over the bottom half of the guitar. Gold, pink, and orange fill in the flowers and a single hand painted purple butterfly sits at the top, along with a few sparkly swirls around the edges that are all sorts of bright colors.

You walk over to him and place your hand on the guitar, gently running your hand over the smooth etchings of the designs he had made for you.

Holy shit. It was incredible, the most beautiful guitar you had ever seen in your entire life.

Your mouth is agape and your eyes are wide as you take in the beauty that sits in his hands, just waiting for you to play. “Joel…I don’t even know what to say. It’s beautiful. How did you…” You’re completely speechless. You don’t know what to say.

“You like it?” he asks with a hopeful smile, his brown eyes trained on you.

“Like it? I love it!” you shout in glee.

“Good, that’s good. Glad ya do.” He says as he runs a hand through his tousled curls as one stray curl falls over his face.

God, what you would give to run your hands through those smooth curls. You could get lost in them for hours.

“Here, why don’t ya try it out?” he asks as he hands the guitar to you. You gently take the smooth guitar in your hands and walk over to the couch as you sit in the middle, right on the edge. You strum the cords as it’s perfectly tuned. Joel must’ve tuned it for you. That man was so thoughtful, you just couldn’t get enough of him.

“You remember that song I taught you?” he asks as he comes around the couch and stands a few feet away, looking at you as if he’s waiting on something.

“You mean that Nirvana song?” you ask, not exactly recalling the entire song.

“Yeah. Something In the Way. You remember it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Umm, I think so. It’s been awhile since I played,” you reply honestly.

“Well, go on and try it. I can help ya if you get lost.”

“Right. Okay. Let me see if I remember,” you say as your voice trails off. You get your hands in position and take a deep breath as you line your fingers up just right. You start the song off slow, trying to recall all the notes to play.

You start off strong as you remember the beginning. Joel’s nodding his head in the corner as he watches you, keeping an eye on your fingers as you play. The more he watches you, the more you get nervous. You start to fumble your fingers and mess up the cords as the wrong tune comes out. You’re getting frustrated with yourself that you’re letting your dad’s best friend get you this flustered. It wasn’t fair. What was wrong with you?

“Shit,” you say with a frustrated sigh as you mess up the cords again. You scrunch your brows together and curse under your breath.

“Hey, it’s okay. You just messed up the bridge of the song. Let me show you.” He comes to sit on the couch beside you, so close that his thigh connects with yours as his muscles hug his jeans to him.

He places his left hand on yours as he positions your fingers exactly where they need to be. You bite your lip as his calloused fingers connect with yours, his thick fingers gently guiding you through the bridge. You can’t focus with him this close. He smells like whiskey and pines, a woodsy scent that’s clinging itself to you, making you dizzy from the smell.

You mess up again as you lose focus, only thinking of how good he smells and how delicious he’d taste. You’re starving for him. A hungry lioness that wants to devour her prey. And that prey is Joel.

Your right hand forgets to strum, and you mess up the entire song.

Christ. Get a hold of yourself!

“Sorry, I haven’t practiced in a few weeks. I thought I’d at least remember the entire song. It wasn’t that long ago that I was playing it,” you sigh disheartened.

“You’re doin’ fine, sweetheart. You want me to refresh ya on the song?” he says with deep brown eyes staring you down in question.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you reply with a more upbeat tone.

“C’mere then.” He scoots his body to the back of the couch and spreads his legs as he grabs your waist and pulls you to him, sitting you down right in between his legs, right against his broad chest. His arms circle you as his hands come down on top of yours, covering them with his calloused fingers burning into yours as he positions them on the strings.

You gasp at the position you’re in. Joel had never taught you like this. Being this close, practically in his lap.

Fuck.

“You wanna go over to C and play these cords together.” He takes your fingers and strums them along the neck of the guitar, guiding your right hand to play some different notes. He takes you through the entire song slowly as he guides your fingers through every note.

“Alright, that’s good. There ya go. A little slower, right there. Good,” he murmurs as his deep breath rumbles from his chest, sending vibrations through your back.

His instructions were always so clear, so crisp as he languidly guides you with his rough hands. He was an excellent teacher, the best you’d ever had. Always so careful, so pristine, so diligent, so attentive…

His hot breath is blowing down your neck as he leans over your shoulder, his lips so painstakingly close to your skin that he could lean over and drag his lips over your neck. He scoots his hips up as he comes closer to you, so close that your back is crushed against his broad chest and his biceps are caging you in as you hold the guitar. His thighs are right up against yours as they gently squeeze your legs, making your breathing pick up at how close he is now.

He’s practically suffocating you with his tight abs and woodsy scent, letting the whiskey get you drunk from his breath breathing down your neck. It’s almost insufferable at how worked up you’re getting over him. You’re agitated, sexually frustrated at how fucking much you want to jump in his lap and pull his lips down to yours. Let him get you drunk off his whiskey taste as his tongue explores your mouth thoroughly.

He dismantles his hands from yours and coaxes you to keep going with a gentle, steady voice. “Now, you try by yourself. See if you can play it back to me.” He lets his hands fall to the sides of the couch as he stays in place, your body tucked into his tightly.

“You want me to play it myself?” you ask with hesitation in your voice.

“Mhm. Go on now. Play it for me,” he repeats.

You take a deep breath and get your hands in place, focusing on the cords. You slowly start playing the Nirvana song as the guitar strums to life. You’re getting the hang of it, finally remembering the right cords to play.

As you get further in the song, Joel sits up straighter and leans forward, his hands moving to his jeans and his lips almost brushing your neck. You keep playing, trying not to get distracted by the handsome man that sits behind you.

You’re closing in on the end of the song, just about a minute more left and then Joel interrupts your concentration. “That’s really good, darlin’. Nice and steady. You’re a fast learner. Think I could teach ya harder, more complicated songs in no time,” he replies with a low voice, making you break your train of focus.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you ask quietly as you continue strumming along lightly, barely picking at the cords.

“Metallica, Bullet for My Valentine, Ghost, all those bands you like,” he lulls as he presses further into you, his lips dangerously close to your skin. You can feel his breath hit your collarbone. That hot, sweltering breath that you want to bask in, burn in.

“I’d like that,” you purr.

“Yeah?” he asks, digging one of his hands into the material of his jeans like he was trying to control himself.

“Yeah,” you reply, still faintly playing the guitar.

Without warning, he lifts his left hand and moves your long, beachy curls out of the way, sweeping them over your left shoulder so he has access to your neck.

He gently slides his nose up the right side of your neck, stopping right before he gets to your earlobe as he breathes in deep. “You smell like citrus and vanilla,” he groans in a deep voice as he moves his right hand to your thigh, resting it gently on the top of it.

Your eyes go wide as his fingers trail up your leg, slowly inching their way to your inner thigh as his fingers flex, running his nails up and down in steady strides, his hand ending just at the cutoff of the denim material, so close that he could lift the edges and dive his hand into darker, wetter regions.

His calloused fingers slowly flex and extend as he gently runs his fingers over your skin, making you want to come absolutely undone right there on the couch. His lips graze your skin as they trail down your neck, barely skimming the surface as you feel just how soft his lips really are. They feel magnetic as he teases you with his lips, not yet fully giving in.

You’re still playing the song, just a few seconds left before it’s over. “Doin’ so good, darlin’. Such a good little guitar player,” he purrs as his lips make contact with your skin, his mouth gently brushing up the side of your neck as you feel him sink down into you, hitting that sensitive spot that drives you crazy.

Fuck.

A wave of slick pools at your center as you squeeze your legs together, a breathless moan getting stuck in your throat. You stop playing, not able to concentrate any longer. Not when his mouth is on your neck and his fingers are pressed against your inner thigh.

“Joel,” you press, your voice coming out as clipped and desperate.

His fingers trail up to the waistband of your jean shorts as he dances his fingers up and down the denim, teasing you like he knows what he’s doing because he does know. He knows damn well what it’s doing to you. He’s working you up nice and slow. Starting that low burn in your stomach as it spreads to your center, down your thighs.

“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he says in a deep, husky voice as he kisss your neck again, his fingers slowly unbuttoning the top button on your jean shorts.

Suddenly the room is too hot, the tension too thick in the air. Your breath is coming in and out like you’re about to hyperventilate and your skin is scorching at his touch. You feel your spine tingling as he grazes his lips against your jawline, his fingers slowly unzipping your shorts, getting ready to take them off.

“Don’t stop, please,” you beg as you move your hips up, slowly setting the guitar to the side as you put your hands on his knees, holding on for dear life.

“Don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep goin’? Want me to show you how else I can use my fingers?” he asks seductively, his voice low as you listen to that melodic tone.

“Yes, please. Show me,” you plead as you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Alright, I’ll show ya. Just ‘cause you asked nicely,” he says as he unzips the zipper all the way and pushes the shorts down your legs, letting them drop to the floor as he trails his fingers up and down your inner thighs, letting you squirm against him as you can’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. How long I’ve had my eyes on you, you pretty thing,” he groans as he ghosts his hand over your center, lightly tugging at your waistband as he slowly lifts the pink lace up, sticking his thumb inside as it trails across the top, not quite yet to your dripping center where you need him the most.

“And those legs. God, those long, tan legs. So soft, so perfect,” he purrs as he trails his left hand up your thigh, letting his finger gently slide down your clothed center as it causes a hiss to come from your mouth.

“You want this?” he asks as he sinks his right hand lower, finding your slick folds as he barely puts pressure on them.

“Oh, fuck. Yes,” you groan out as you try to spread your legs further apart, your center desperate for some relief.

“Mmmm, thought so,” he murmurs, a thick, heavy breath coming from his throat.

He puts more pressure on your center and spreads your folds as he circles you slowly. You can hear the sloshing and sticky noises from your wetness and it’s making you so much more turned on, making you feral for his touch.

“Goddamn, you’re wet, darlin’. All this for me?” he asks with a smirk as he uses his other hand to slowly slide your ruined underwear to the floor, leaving you completely bare on the bottom.

He takes a good look at you as he spreads your legs over his thighs and opens you wider, exposing your dripping cunt that’s at complete mercy to Joel’s hands.

“Fuck, you’re pretty, baby,” he growls as he runs his hands up further and catches your clit as he puts more pressure into it. Circling nice and slow, building up that arousal and heat that threatens to make you come undone in just a matter of time.

“Oh, God,” you moan as you grip his thighs and dig your fingers into his jeans as you lean your back into him, his lips skimming down your jaw as he works at your clit meticulously. Feeding your arousal that’s pooling all around you as another wave of slick washes down your thighs.

“That’s it, darlin’. Gonna show ya exactly how a man should get a woman off. Want you to scream my name by the time I have you comin’. Gonna show you just how good your daddy’s best friend can finger fuck you,” he growls, a low guttural sound coming from deep in his throat. It’s primal and territorial. He’s claiming what’s his. And it’s you. And it’s hot as hell.

You let out a breathy moan as he plunges two fingers into your dripping cunt as he works hard and fast at sliding his fingers in and out of you. Up and down, back and forth as the sounds of slick and wet fingers connect, causing you to buck up your hips at the building sensation. You’re already so close and you can’t take much more. It’s too much. He’s too much.

He presss a hand down on your hips and clicks his tongue, locking you in with his grip so you’re unable to move. “You stay in place, sweetheart. I’m not lettin’ you get away just yet. You’re so close, I can feel it. The way you’re arching your back and tightening your pretty cunt around my fingers. You’re almost there, and I’m gonna make you come hard, understand?” he asks in a low, raspy voice as you feel his bulging erection growing in his jeans as you push back against it.

“Yes. Please, Joel,” you beg as you lay your head against his shoulder, looking up at the now blown out black pits of his eyes as he stares down at you with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Please what?” he smiles down, his smirk playing across the side of his mouth, making him look handsome as hell.

“Make me come,” you whisper out of breath.

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.”

He takes his thumb and presses down on the most sensitive spot of your clit as his index and middle fingers work at your insides, pumping in and out as the wet, sloshing noises get louder.

Your legs start to shake as he circles and circles your clit, rubbing faster and harder as your breathing picks up and a hot, burning sensation is right at the edge of spilling over. The room gets heavier and thicker as the gasping moans and heat intertwine together, making a muggy room of desire and seduction.

Your legs are shaking so much that Joel has to hook your right leg under his as his left hand holds your other one down. He’s going to make you ride out this orgasm whether you can handle it or not. The sensation is overbearing as you feel your walls start to spasm as they squeeze around his thick fingers that pump in and out of you.

“Joel, I can’t…I’m so…I’m almost…” you moan in quick, shaky breaths. Barely able to hang on any longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let go. That’s it. Want you to be a good girl and come on my fingers. Come on, almost there,” he coaxes as he speeds up his fingers and plunges deep into the spongy spot of your walls, pressing firmly on your clit in just the right spot.

You feel your insides clench up one more time around his fingers as white, hot heat fills your entire body and then your walls go slack as you feel yourself release hot liquid all over his fingers. You let your eyes roll back as you moan his name loud as the liquid continues to drip down your center and covers the inside of your thighs.

“There ya go. Such a good girl,” he purrs, his eyes bleeding into yours as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

It’s like you’re hypnotized, in a daze the way your body feels like it’s floating as Joel works you through your intense orgasm, his fingers slowly fucking up inside you as he makes sure he gets every drop of slick inside you that he can.

He takes his other arm and gently runs it up and down your thigh, easing you from your orgasm as you slowly come back to earth. He gently uncurls his fingers from inside you and brings them up to his mouth, lapping up the slick on his fingers as your eyes go wide at the provocative action. He gently runs his other hand down your arm in a comforting way and then slowly unlatches your legs from his grip.

“That was incredible…” you express with blown out pupils, your heart racing a thousand miles per hour as you sink all your weight into his chest.

Joel laughs as he pulls you into his lap and caresses your cheek, slowly pushing a strand of hair behind your ear in an affectionate way. He was being so careful with you, so gentle. You felt so safe and secure in his strong arms. It was nothing like you’d felt before with a man. Joel was one of a kind.

“Glad I could make ya feel good,” he laughs as a gentle smile curls up at his lips, his dark eyes hovering over you as his lips are just inches from yours. You want to taste them, see how good they feel on yours.

“I didn’t think…I didn’t know you were into me,” you answer quietly as you stare up at him, waiting for a reply.

He furrows his eyebrows and flexes his jaw before he speaks. “Sweetheart, I’ve liked you for quite some time now. Just didn’t know how to go about it with your dad being my best friend and all.” He sighs and lets his head drop back against the couch as he takes you with him. He rakes a hand through his messy curls and looks back up at you with another sigh. “Your father would kill me if he knew I just finger fucked his daughter.”

“He doesn’t have to know. It’s our own little secret,” you snicker as you lean your head on his chest. “Joel, I’ve liked you a long time. A very long time. I just thought you were off limits.” You shrug as you relax back into him as his arms pull you in and keep you warm.

“I mean technically I should be off limits, but…” He trails off and doesn’t finish his sentence as his eyes are in a far away place.

“But what?” You shake him out of his trance as he comes back down to reality.

“But…I can’t leave you alone now. Not after this,” he gestures to the mess on the couch that you made. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine now. And I don’t intend on sharing,” he growls as his dark eyes penetrate your gaze, sinking deep into you, awakening something that had been dormant till you met him.

Mine? Oh. You liked the sound of that. A lot. And it was possessive, dominant, making you hungry for more of him, needing more of him.

“Then don’t,” you breathe out in a quiet voice, your eyes intently locked on his.

He looks into your eyes with those desperate, needy honey eyes of his and then looks down at your lips, repeating the sequence a couple more times before he cups your chin and brings you in close. He presses his lips to yours as his large hands cup your face. It’s slow, romantic, everything you hoped it would be.

The kiss deepens as you part your lips and invite him in. He slides his tongue in your mouth and collides into yours as he slowly swirls and massages your tongue with his. His lips are so soft and large, feeling like they’re made just for you. And his taste.

God, he tastes so good. You can taste the hint of hazelnut coffee, a drop of whiskey, and maybe a taste of honey as his tongue invades your mouth in all the right places.

You moan into his mouth as he kisses you deeper, faster, more desperate as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls at just the right pressure. It feels good. Like he’s being dominant with you but also soft, the perfect combination.

You push your body up as you straddle his lap, feeling that tight bulge in his pants as you start to unbuckle his leather belt, desperate to get your hands on him. He puts a strong hand around your wrist and stops you before you can go any further.

“And what do ya think you’re doin’?” he asks as he lifts an eyebrow, a small smile hiding behind his serious gaze.

“I just wanted to make you feel good too,” you confess, giving him the best smirk you can muster up.

“Is that so?” he asks with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum, using your free hand to push his broad chest back into the soft couch.

“Hmmm. Alright then, darlin’. Show me.” He lets go of your wrist and lets you pull the belt loose from his dark jeans. You slowly unzip the zipper but before you can pull down his pants, he stops you again as he cups your chin and lifts your head to look into his eyes.

“On your knees,” he growls dominantly as his eyes turn from soft brown to dark black pits as his pupils expand.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you reply automatically without thinking as you drop to the soft rug, getting on your knees as you place your hands on his muscular thighs.

“Just Joel, darlin’,” he reminds you. “Now, be a good girl and show me how good you can suck this cock.”

He stares down at you with seductive eyes and a large smirk painted across his face. He looks so goddamn pretty. And the way his plaid sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that cover his arms is making you even more turned on.

You waste no time and pull down his jeans and then his black briefs, freeing his erection from the combines of his pants. It plants firmly against his stomach, and you gasp at just how large he is.

Holy shit. He’s massive.

You gulp and scoot up to the edge of the couch as you bring your hand around his thick width. You start sliding your hand up and down his large length, watching as the veins in his cock wrap around him, feeling the coarse, wiry hair that blankets around the base of him, transfixed on just how big he is.

You bring your head down and slowly lick the tip as you let your tongue swirl around all his sensitive spots, still using your hand to slide up and down him as precum bubbles over the edge. You savour the taste of him as you let the salty flavor run down your throat all hot and sticky like. You lick the tip again, this time looking at him seductively under your long eyelashes as you let your hand work up and down his largeness.

“Fuck,” he moans under his breath as you stare up at him, his black pupils blown out as he watches you devour him inch by inch.

You test your limits and take him further into your mouth, going down as far as you can until you gag on him, slowly coming back up for air before you go back down again.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty sucking my cock, darlin’,” he groans as a grabs the back of your hair as you go down on him again, this time taking him deeper, going past your limits. You choke on him as you feel your throat constrict around his length, feeling just how thick he is as the salty taste runs down your throat like warm cider.

He fists your hair and works you up and down him as you gag and choke on his delicious cock. Your eyes water as you feel saliva pool in your mouth and run down your chin as he takes you as far as you can go, speeding up his actions as he fucks your mouth over and over again. Up and down, deeper and deeper. Driving you fucking crazy.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls, sending a wave of slick between your legs as you continue deep throating him.

He loves every second of it, and you love it just as much as he does. You love feeling his cock slide in and out of your mouth, love tasting him, love the way his eyebrows furrow together and the deep, breathless moans he makes from his throat as you make him come to life. And you love how possessive he gets with it. It’s so fucking hot. You revel in making him yours, making him want you, making him feel like he’s the most special man in the world, because he is. He’s so special, and now he’s yours. All yours.

He deep throats you one more time as he hits the back of your throat, making you audibly gag around him as your throat closes up around him, squeezing him as your saliva encases his thick cock.

“Goddamn!” he moans loudly as he pulls out of your throat as the saliva sticks to the end of his hard cock, running a trail of glistening saliva from his tip to your chin as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You miss one as it runs down your face.

Joel leans forward and catches it, wiping it away with his thumb as he cleans the saliva from your chin, making sure you don’t have a spot left on your face.

“You didn’t come,” you say quietly, unsure of why he stopped you.

He bites his bottom lip before answering you back. “I know, darlin’. That’s ’cause I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes turn into deep black pits again as he yanks you up from the floor and straddles you across his lap, the tip of his cock just inches from your weeping entrance as you’re soaked with arousal.

“Want you to ride me, sweetheart. Now get on top of me,” he instructs. He lifts your hips as he moves the tip of his cock to your drenched entrance, just barely slipping in, waiting for you to go down.

“Lower for me,” he demands, his voice raspy and deep. You slowly lower yourself down on him as he presses up deeper into you, expanding your walls right to the point of pain. You wince but keep your face controlled as you start to ride him nice and slow, feeling just how thick he is as you squeeze him, starting to move faster as you go up and down, up and down. Feeling every single flutter that your walls make as his large length caves inside you.

You groan and press your forehead against his as you straddle and ride him, digging your thighs into his sides as he grabs the back of your ass and squeezes, sending slick running down your center. The room starts to grow too hot, the stickiness and humidity mixing in with your fully aroused state. You can feel your hair stick to your face as the sweat shimmers across your forehead. You speed up the intensity, feeling every single detail of his cock as he rams up inside you time and time again. Making you nearly drown in your own slick.

“Fuck,” you groan as you continue riding him, building up that sweet orgasm that’s about to be set free. The sticky, slick noise from him sliding in and out of you is too much. He’s too much, too sexy, too fucking good for you. You need a release, you need to come. This was too much. “Joellllll,” you moan as you draw out the last syllable of his name, begging for him to make you come.

“That’s it, darlin’. Taking me so fucking good like the good girl you are. You’re almost there. I can feel it,” he says seductively, making you bite your lip at how sexy his bedroom voice is. It’s low, deep, provocative. A noise that could make you come just at the sound of. He’s electric.

“Want some assistance, darlin’?” he asks with low, drawn out words. Setting your insides on fire.

“Mhmm,” you hum out, trying your best to keep yourself in one piece.

He grabs the back of your hair and pulls you to his mouth as he devours you, biting your lower lip and shoving his tongue inside your mouth as he twirls around yours, setting your taste buds on fire. Drowning in his coffee and whiskey taste, wanting to drink him down until you can’t taste anything except him. Only him.

He takes control and places his hands on your hips as he bucks up inside you, thrusting deeper and deeper until he’s bottoming out, hitting you so deep that you swear you start seeing stars.

You place your hands around his neck and hold tight, your fingers wrapping around the curls that reach the back of his head as you claw at him, running your nails through his scalp. He moans at the sensation and continues plunging into you with his massiveness taking over you entirely, feeling every vibration through your body as you’re on cloud nine. You’re almost there, almost…

“You on birth control?” he asks with gritted teeth, a low growl leaving his throat as he thrusts inside you, sinking his nails into your sides.

“Mhm,” you choke out a moan, barely able to answer.

“Mmmm that’s good. Real good. Gonna spill all inside ya then. Is that what you want, darlin’? Want my cum inside that pretty pussy?” he asks with a gritted, clipped tone that’s full of arousal.

“Yes, please. Fuck,” you moan as he places his thumb on the throbbing bud of your clit, pressing just enough to pull that building orgasm out of you as you clench around his thick cock and feel white, hot heat slide over you.

You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling yourself unclench from him as you spill all down his long length. You feel your fingertips go tingly, the sensation making its way all the way down to your toes as they curl, feeling your heart speed up as the palpitations set in. It’s the most intense orgasm you ever had in your entire life, and you know then that you will never be able to get Joel out of your head. You’re hooked like a shot of espresso. Needing to consume it every day to be able to function properly. He’s like a drug. Nightshade. Deadly but intoxicating, a taste you can’t resist. A taste you crave, want, desire.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Your face is so fucking pretty when you cum, when you’re saying my name,” he growls as he emphasizes the my. Making it sound like you belonged to him now. And fuck you want that more than anything.

He thrusts inside you faster, harder as he knits his eyebrows together, getting caught in deep concentration as his breaths become ragged, unhinged. “You’re so tight, feels so good inside ya. You’re squeezing me so hard. Goddamn, you pretty thing,” he groans as he digs his fingers into your hips, pounding once, twice, three more times before he holds you down on his thighs and rolls his eyes up to look into yours with those black pits staring up at you hungrily.

He opens his mouth and moans as he spills his cum inside you. You feel the sticky, hot mess coat your walls as he thrusts once more, getting his fill of you entirely. Your breathing is rough and winded as you chase down your high from the intense fucking.

He keeps you there, staying inside you for just a few minutes as you both collect your breath and just stare at each other, taking in each other’s ecstasy and heat as the tension doesn’t disperse from the room. It stays like a hot, summer day with the humidity intensifying. It’s like you’re in the middle of a rainforest. It’s so hot, so suffocating, so muggy. And you can see that you’re caught in the middle of a hard spot. Alone with the stalking panther that wants to eat you alive. And that panther is Joel. He catches you, and now you’re all his for the taking. A complete menace at best.

He finally slides out of you as you feel his seed start to drip from you as it drops against his thighs, mixing in with the sweat and lust from each other. He falls to his back on the couch and brings you with him as he pulls you into his arms and brings your legs over his as he gently drags his fingers up and down them, soothing you from the hot cardio you had just taken part in.

“Fuck,” he says in a deep voice as he kisses the top of your head and brings his hand under your chin, lifting it so he can look into your eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby. And your eyes. They’re so beautiful, they’re practically sparkling for me right now, just like diamonds.” Your breath catches as he gazes over you, admiring your beauty and charm as he caresses your cheek affectionately.

Oh, God. You’re in trouble. You’re falling hard and fast for your dad’s best friend. What a mess.

“Joel,” you say with admiration as you rake your fingers through his salt and pepper scruff, acquiring a slight groan from deep in his throat from the light touch. “I like you. A lot,” you breathe as you hold back tears from streaming over. You don’t want this to be over. It couldn’t be. You wouldn’t let it be.

“Oh, darlin’. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you, to hold you, to feel just how soft your skin really was. Been holdin’ back a long time. But something snapped in me tonight. When I saw you with that guy. I wanted to wring his fucking neck,” he spits as his eyes go cold. You gasp at the intensity of him. Of his words. He really does like you. This is real, it’s all real. And you just can’t believe it.

You run your hand down his broad chest as he pulls you closer, and you lean into him as your head rests on his chest, feeling every ragged breath go in and out as his chest rises and falls in waves.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you alone now, darlin’. Not after this,” he says, holding you tight as he strokes your cheek, pulling back another strand of hair behind your ear softly.

“Then don’t,” you breathe, hope filling your gut as you cling to his bulky, tight arms.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he plays with your soft curls, running his hand through your hair gently as it sends a wave of warmth and serotonin over you, completely calming you of any anxiety. “I don’t intend to, darlin’. You’re all mine,” he coos.

Mine. There it was again. You were his and it felt so right.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums as the vibrations in his chest reverberate around you like a thunderstorm but calming you entirely.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” you ask in a quiet, meek voice.

“‘Course, sweetheart. I wasn’t planning on takin’ ya home. Not after this. You’re stayin’ with me.” He cups your chin and slowly brings his lips down on yours as you drink him in nice and slow, fully embracing the taste of him that was now a part of you.

When you finally break apart, you look up at him with a worried look on your face, your anxiety returning in full force like a galloping horse about to collide with another.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows and soft brown eyes that are searching your face, trying to find what was wrong.

“My dad….what if he somehow finds out that we…what if…”

He puts his thumb on your lips and hushes you, a gentle soothing sound coming from his mouth. “We can worry about that another day. He ain’t gonna find out,” he reassures you.

The unsettled feeling dwells in the pit of your stomach, and the worried expression doesn’t leave your face as you continue looking at him. A tear threatening to pool at the corner of your eye, but you hold it in. Not wanting to worry Joel with your anxious thoughts.

“Hey, you trust me?” he asks as he looks deep in your eyes, his brown eyes honing in like a hawk.

“Yes, of course,” you nod.

He takes your hand in his as he clasps his thick fingers around yours. “Then believe me when I say this will work out. I’m not lettin’ ya go, darlin’. I’m gonna make sure your daddy doesn’t find out. He ain’t gonna suspect a thing.”

You nod up at him, slowly pulling yourself back together. “Okay,” you agree.

“Alright. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up in the shower and get ya to bed. You must be exhausted,” he says as he pulls you up from the couch, picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs to his bathroom.

After the warm shower, you get right in his bed with him. Wrapped up in his strong arms with one of his large plaid shirts hugging your body as you breathe in his pine and woodsy scent, enveloping yourself entirely in him as you memorize exactly what he smells like. Wanting to remember this moment as the best night of your life.

You fall asleep shortly as you listen to the faint sound of his breathing as you lay against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. And that night you only dream of brown eyes, broad arms, thick fingers, and wet, sticky sensations. But one thing still clings to the back of your mind as you dream of Joel. Just one thing that you can’t quite shake as it interrupts your sweet, wet dreams of Joel. And that one thing is your dad.

Fuck. You just had mind blowing sex with your daddy’s best friend.

Tags: @janaispunk @studioghibelli @cinnamongorll @callmecath1 @joelalorian @dugiioh @ladamari68 @amyispxnk @pedrostories @tuquoquebrute

Part 2

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seratopia · 11 months

Text

hobie brown x reader (fluff) - eyeliner → she/her pronouns!

hobie loves asking you to do eye makeup for him

"Sweets! C'mere for a sec!"

Your ears perk up when you hear Hobie from the other room, amidst slathering on a moisturizer onto your face.

"Hold on! I'm doing skincare!" You exclaim, hoping he heard you.

"C'mon already!" Hobie yells, and you fight every urge to roll your eyes as you rub in the last bit of your face lotion.

"Okay, okay!"

Hobie smirks when you dip into his bedroom, reaching out his hands to beckon you closer. The fluffy lounge set you're in makes him want to handle you more, his fingers subconsciously drawing in towards you.

You stick out like a sore thumb against the different shades of black in his room, studded belts and punk magazines scattered on the ground. Lazily, he's seated on the edge of his bed, his worn-out guitar sprawled across his charcoal-black sheets.

Those silver-ringed hands slip onto the curves of your waist, snaking their way up your back to tug you closer to him. You almost shiver at the feeling of so much metal. Cockily, he stares at your face, cheekily dragging you so that his face his a hair close to your chest.

"What is it, Hobie?" You ask, smoothing your fingers through his kinky hair. Hobie likes it when you trace your thumb over all of his piercings.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Hobie pulls out an eyeliner pen, flipping it smoothly through his fingers. Hobie chuckles a little, squeezing at the fat of your sides. There's a glint in his eye; excitement.

"Y'always talk about puttin' makeup on me, so I'm givin' you a try."

Hobie's smirk widens when he sees you light up in excitement, allowing you to slip the eyeliner pen from his fingers.

"Right now?" You ask, and Hobie squeezes you. He nods, shoving his face right up at you to emphasize.

"Do an edgy look for me, yeah? Don't be afraid t'smudge it a li'l."

So, while Hobie sits at the edge of his bed, he indulgently allows himself to wrap his arms around you, tilting his head upwards so you can paint on the makeup properly. You're parked right in the gap between his legs, closing in the little distance you have with Hobie to perfect the look.

While you stand there, bracing Hobie's face with one hand, he just takes it upon himself to stare at your concentrated expression. He hates to admit but he loves the close proximity.

"Hobie, you gotta close your eyes for me to do it."

The boy shuts his eyes closed, flinching just the tiniest bit when the tip of the pen first meets his skin. You build up a fine line at the outer corner of his eyelid, making it an effort to upturn the wing just the slightest bit.

For the last part, you draw a somewhat messy line underneath his lower lash line, smearing black onto only the outer side. Taking your finger, you smudge the black while its still wet, blurring out the line until whats left under his eye looks like black shadow.

Hobie resists every urge to open his eyes, every nerve screaming at him to keep them shut. For now, he makes due with what he can, squishing a little too close to your butt, or running his thumbs over where your rib cage is.

"I finished the first eye, wanna see?" You ask.

He opens his eyes back up, relishing the sigh of you until he has to close them again. You step away elsewhere to search for a good-sized mirror, and Hobie reluctantly lets go.

You come back with a hand mirror, and Hobie feels his eye itch just a little, probably from the eyeliner. You hand him the mirror, and it makes you a little nervous. At the end of the day, you just want him to like it.

You watch as Hobie examines the first eye, tilting his face from side to side with a smile forming on his mouth.

"Wow, y'did a nice job. I like the smudging right 'ere." Hobie explains, pointing his finger up to his under eye.

You smile, taking the mirror from his hand so you could continue the other eye.

"Y'know... I think I might ask'ya to do this more often." Hobie says, mindlessly tapping his fingers against your back. The way you handle his face almost makes him melt.

"You're good at makeup."

You chuckle a little, swiping the pen away to press a gentle kiss to Hobie's forehead. The way he smiles is so cute, how you can feel his cheeks warm under your fingertips.

"If you wanted to be with me, you could'a just asked, Hobie." You giggle, gently poking the corner of his other eyelid with the pen.

"I'm serious!" Hobie laughs, his eyes still closed. "I look like Cooper, y'know who Cooper is?"

"The guy that gave you a spare guitar string?" You ask.

"Yeah, he's a good man, had this really wicked eyeliner on."

With a final swoop of your wrist you finish his other eye, your vision ping-ponging between the two wings to make sure they're symmetrical.

"Done!" And you hand Hobie the mirror again, intently watching his expressions. Again, he tilts his head from side to side, an impressed smile on his face. It looks really good on him, perfect for one of his shows.

"Wow, sweets, this is really sick. Bet I'd give Cooper a run for his money, yeah?" Hobie says, standing up from his bed. You giggle into his chest when he pulls you in, repaying you for the earlier kiss with one on the crown of your head.

"You think so?" You ask, and Hobie nods.

"Get dressed and I can take us to The Crown, bet Cooper's there havin' a drink or two." He cockily states, making you playfully roll your eyes. You're expecting him to show up Cooper, pridefully pointing to his eyes to say, "Yeah, my girl did that."

"I'd like that." You say, untangling yourself from Hobie to search for something on the floor to wear. You leave some of your clothes in his room anyway. He lets go of you, watching you skim through his wardrobe.

"How 'bout that l'il dress, the short one you always like? We can match." Hobie suggests, placing his hands underneath his head and leaning back into his bed.

"It's all the way over at my flat." You reply, and Hobie springs back up, already pulling his spider mask out of his worn-out vest pocket.

"I can go get it, if you want."

"I think you want it more than I do, Hobie." You shrug, Hobie already a third of his way out the window.

"Be back in a sec!"