anayame

[anayame]

-> THE EROS CLUB

jackie welles x f!reader (v)

summary: you and jackie receive a job to infiltrate a popular new club and retrieve a sample of a drug making its rounds through customers. unfortunately, it takes being dosed to realize the drug is an aphrodisiac.

word count: 6.7k

warnings/tags: swearing, drinking alcohol, drugs, being drugged unknowingly, explicit sex, rough sex, p in v, dirty talk, praise, semi-public sex/bathroom sex, dom!jackie, dom/sub dynamics, aftercare, confessions, slight throat/neck kink if you squint, jackie and misty are NOT a couple

author’s note: shout out to @neon-junkie for making me a jackie welles whore

You felt the thrum of the club’s bass before you even saw the front doors. It shook the ground in rhythmic beats, some kind of strange, unnatural earthquake, and seemed to pull anyone within a mile radius toward its center. Everywhere you looked, civilians were headed toward the entrance. Skimpy skirts, sleeveless muscle tanks, even pressed business suits - they all gravitated toward the Eros Club like droning, mindless machines.

As you cruised slowly down the street, your hand rested atop the steering wheel of your ride, Jackie released a low whistle from his perch in the passenger’s seat. He was so sinewy and bulked that he hardly fit in it. “Some place,” he said when you parked your car on the curb between a number of other vehicles. “No wonder every other club in town’s tanked to shit. Everyone’s comin’ here.”

You gave a hum and peered up the club through the window. The Eros Club was a three-story decker situated on a corner close to the water, with neon lights that cast the streets surrounding it in an eerie, yet exciting glow. A long, twisting line of people waited for entrance, kissing and grinding and complaining on their cells. Armed guards stood at the doors, standing rather close to a small woman personally checking each visitor before they went through.

“It won’t be standing for much longer,” you said, then climbed from the car.

This job was supposed to be simple. Simpler than most you and Jackie had done. Your client was a faceless shroud who spoke to you over the net, promising big bucks for the infiltration of the Eros Club. They claimed to be a rival club owner who was losing business; they’d heard from a friend of a friend of an enemy Eros was illegally drugging patrons until they were hooked and coming back every night for more. Your job was to secure a dose of whatever substance was being used and give it to your client’s men at the drop point.

Jackie hadn’t liked it at first. He was adamant about seeing the client face to face before agreeing to nabbing the drug, but he hadn’t needed much more convincing when you told him the amount promised.

“Sounds too easy,” he’d said when you informed him of your client’s approach. “Then again…” He’d flashed you that signature smile and you hadn’t been able to help but give it back. “We could use a night out on the town.”

As you left your vehicle and approached the club, weaving between sweaty bodies and over broken bottles scattered along the ground, you spared a glance over at your partner. Jackie Welles was a unit of a man, built like an ox and suited to take one down. Not only was he one of the best-looking men you’d ever met, he was also the kindest. In the same day, he would toss live grenades into gang dens, then untangle a stray cat from the plastic wrapping caught around its paws. He was funny, and caring, and above all else, loyal. No matter the situation, you knew you could count on Jackie to have your back.

And a part of you hated it.

You hated how close you had grown to the mercenary over the number of months you’d been working together, how you knew his middle name and his birthday and his mother’s favorite flowers. You hated that every time you shared a drink at After Life your knees would brush together and the simple touch would strike a match in your veins. And you hated yourself for, not once or twice, but almost every time you relieved some of your pent-up sexual tension by yourself, you imagined it was him hovering between your legs making you feel so deliciously.

“Aye. You with me, chica?”

Blinking away the dirty thoughts swimming through your head, you glanced up at Jackie. You had almost made it to the front doors - much to the chagrin and disdain of the people who had been waiting in line for hours. “Come again?” you said.

Jackie jerked his head toward the doors. “I said, you got the passes?” He watched as you fished through your pockets before producing the VIP passes your client had provided you with in order to get into Eros without much hassle. “Somethin’ on your mind?” he said as he accepted his pass. “Your head’s usually more in the game than this, V.”

Slipping the pass around your neck, you swallowed thick and avoided his gaze. “Sorry,” you said, and left it at that. He tilted his head at you in that way he did when he knew you were lying, but he didn’t push it. If anyone knew how to coax something out of you, it was him.

And you were terrified he would get this out of you, too.

The guards blocking the front doors looked you and Jackie up and down as you approached, arms crossed tight or hefting a baseball bat over a shoulder. “What business you got?” asked one.

In sync, you and Jackie both raised your VIP passes from around your necks. It only took a few moments of inspection for them to step aside so that you could face the small woman sitting on a stool. Up close, you were able to see she wore plastic gloves over her thin hands and beside her on a cart lay caps of what looked like ink. She beckoned you forward.

“Listen up, and listen well,” she said as she prepared a fresh cap from her tray. “No touching the dancers unless you want to walk home without one of your arms. No going behind the bar; if you want something - or someone - ask one of the bouncers inside and they’ll get it for you. No contraband allowed inside.” She motioned. “That means pieces. Unload it all.”

Jackie grumbled beneath his breath as he grudgingly unholstered his firearms and the machete strapped across his back before placing them in the trunk at one of the guards’ feet. You followed suit, dumping your belongings beside his. “Be good, carinos,” he murmured to his iron before the lid was snapped shut.

“One last thing,” drawled the woman before snapping a bubble of gum in her mouth. “Tongues out.”

Your breath caught in your throat, something between a scoff and a laugh. “What?”

She wiggled her ink-coated thumb. “If you want in,” she said as if she were talking to a child throwing a tantrum, “tongues out. Helps us know who actually heard the rules and who snuck in through the side door.” She tilted her head in exasperation. “It’s just a bit of edible ink. It’ll wash off in a few hours.”

Despite how appalled you were at the idea of having this random chick’s thumb on your tongue, it was the thought of more eddies in your account that made you open your mouth and lay your tongue flat. You clenched your fist as she pressed her thumb against your tongue, fighting off the urge to gag. When she was done, you wiped your lip and watched as Jackie stuck out his tongue to get his own print.

You were unable to help the pang of hot, searing jealousy that shot through you when he gagged slightly and she winked at him.

“Get that reflex under control, baby,” she teased as she pulled her arm back and discarded the glove. “Who knows when it’ll ruin a good time.”

“Are we done here?” you blurted. “No offense, but we didn’t come to get tongue tats and swap dick sizes.”

She was obviously bored of you. With a flick of her head, the guards opened the doors, and you both strode through quicker than necessary. Jackie’s limp - put there after he broke his leg as a boy and it never healed properly - slowed him slightly, but you’d become accustomed to matching your pace with his. Your frame silhouetted beside his bulk and muscle, the doors sealed shut behind you, a crypt trapping unfortunate souls within.

Jackie ran his freshly-inked tongue over his teeth, his features illuminated by the neon pink glow from the lights overhead. “Tastes like licorice,” he commented, then screwed up his face. “The bad kind.”

You murmured a low hum of agreement as you walked toward another set of doors that led into the main wing of the club. “The kind that’s been sitting in the sun for a week.”

“Heh.” He smiled, and you kept your focus straight ahead, trying to squash the butterflies fluttering in your belly. “And you know what that tastes like?”

“Please,” you said and placed a hand on the door. “I grew up in the streets, Jackie. I ate anything I could come across.”

You heaved open the door, and at once you were both enveloped in a hurricane of noise and light and skin. A gargantuan disco ball threw off flashes of neon lights across the club floor, bathing dancers and strippers and drunks in a dream-like hue. Booths were filled to the edges, every stool at the bar taken. Overhead, balconies overlooked poles and flashy cages that hung from the ceiling; inside, men and women wearing less than an inch of clothing humped the bars and whistled down at patrons. And if the customers weren’t ogling up at them, they were grinning stupidly at the glittery joytoys serving their drinks.

You were forced to stop for a moment to take it all in. You’d never seen anything like this. Sure, you’d been raised by a multitude of people in your childhood; madams of whore houses and gang leaders and club bouncers… suffice to say you’d seen a lot of clubs and dollhouses, but never something as grand as this. Jackie was right; no wonder all the other clubs in town were going under.

“Some place,” he said loud enough to be heard over the music.

Pulling yourself from the dazzling painting before you, you blinked a few times to clear your head and pursed your lips. “You know the drill,” you told him. “Don’t get distracted, okay? We’re here for a sample of the drug, and that’s it. Text if you find it, and we’ll meet back here.”

Jackie snorted through his nose as the bass dropped in the music and the floor rattled beneath your feet. “Me, distracted?” he mused and placed a hand on his chest. “You should practice what you preach, chica. You’re the one with your head in the clouds today. Although…” He cast a meaningful glance upward and winked at one of the young women in the dangling cages. You frowned. “Doesn’t seem like a bad place to be these days.”

Refraining from rolling your eyes, you huffed and left him near the doors of the club. You felt your boiling blood begin to cool to a simmer as you wriggled your way through the throng of parties and started for the bar.

Christ, you really needed to get this little crush done and over with. You’d known Jackie long enough to know what he liked; and it wasn’t what you were. He would never reciprocate your feelings; and even if he did, it would hardly be professional. The two of you were partners. So what if sometimes you crashed at each other’s places? So what if he sang you your favorite songs in the car when they came over the radio? So what if, when you’d once caught a bullet to the side, he’d crouched before you to stitch it up himself on your bathroom floor, needle held between his teeth and giant palm firm against your sternum to keep you still and breath on your stomach and -

“What’s shakin’, honey?”

You were yanked from your memories by the voice of the joy toy bartender behind the counter, staring at you with a flirty smirk painted across her lips. She polished a glass with nails that glowed neon here in the dim light.

“Sorry.” You took a seat at the bar - the first seat to have opened in a while - and rested your arms on the counter. It raised goosebumps along your skin. “I’m new here. What’s the most popular thing people get?”

“Why go with the flow, baby?” She grinned before she began to conjure up a drink, mixing liquors from bottles at her knees and pipettes from a sink behind her. “There ain’t another one like you, so don’t go and try to make a no one of yourself. Be true to who you are and what you want. ‘Ya hear me?” In a matter of seconds, she’d placed a shot glass in front of you; the drink within looked like liquid moonlight. How poetic. “Since you’re new, this one’s on me. Just be sure to come back, darlin’, yeah?” She winked, then crossed the bar to attend to her other guests.

Her words rattled through your head as you picked up the glass and swirled it a bit. You knew who you were; you were fucking V of fucking Heywood, for god’s sake. And yet… what did you want?

You scoffed, then glanced back and let your systems take a moment to analyze the contents of the drink in front of you, searching for any foreign substances. You knew what you wanted. But that just couldn’t happen. You were being stupid, crushing on your partner. Your friend - your best fucking choom. You spared a glance over your shoulder, at once spotting Jackie’s hulking frame where he sat at a wraparound couch with a trio of joytoys giggling and batting their eyelashes and touching his thighs. You grit your teeth and whipped back around.

Yeah - you were fucked.

A green alert from your systems told you the drink in your hand was perfectly safe. Nothing foreign or suspicious. Quirking your brow, you brought the shot glass to your lips and tipped it back. You weren’t going to turn down a free drink.

Nothing behind the bar - time to move on. You waved to the bartender in thanks, then got up and offered your seat to the next person waiting for a drink. Forcing yourself to keep from looking at Jackie and his new little entourage, you continued to scour the Eros Club for the drug.

Half an hour, then an hour ticked past you, and you still came up with zilch. None of the dealers - some of whom you’d grown up with on the streets of the city - had anything to present. Nothing in the food. Even a scan of the joytoys showed nothing to raise your alarm. You were empty-handed.

But not quite empty.

As you continued your search, you became aware of a warm, blossoming sensation making its presence known in the pit of your belly. It was heavy and light all at once, swirling like caged serpents aching to be released. It wasn’t long until you felt that familiar pang of need in your core, in between your thighs, did you realize what it was. You were turned on.

You tried to dismiss it as your hormones out of whack - whose wouldn’t be, surrounded by practically naked strippers and the smell of sex lingering in the air? - but as the minutes went on, you were unable to just pass it off. The tugging and demanding was becoming more urgent, and you felt your panties slowly soaking. Fuck.

Inhaling deep through your nose, you stopped for a moment to lean up against a steel pillar and clutch at your stomach. The ache was painful now, and sweat was beading at your hairline. What the fuck was this? Your mouth was producing saliva in overdrive, begging you to swallow, and you felt more empty than you ever had in your life. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, your nerves jumping with tingling sensation.

You lifted your head, feeling almost sick with desire, and your eyes locked onto a young couple leaning against the far wall. They were both a little more than red in the face; she was shaking out her top to let her chest breathe, and he was awkwardly crossing his legs in an attempt to hide his hard on. They murmured in one another’s ears for a moment, touched their tongues, then grappled hands and rushed out a side door.

Your lips parted as your mind finally connected the dots. There was no addictive drug here in the Eros Club; it was outside. The ink that woman had stamped onto your tongues; the drug was in that. You had been fucked before you even stepped inside. Of course people were trampling each other to come back here. The Eros Club was handing out aphrodisiacs at the door. Who wouldn’t want to fuck until they felt better?

You didn’t even have the chance to pull up your texts on your vision screen to warn Jackie. A wave of need ripped through you like a bullet, and you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that escaped your lips. Oh, Christ. Pushing yourself off the pillar, you found yourself stumbling through the club toward the restrooms in the corner. Your breath was coming out in heavy pants as you squeezed through sweaty bodies, every moment of contact with another person sending vibrations of desire through your veins.

It seemed an eternity and a half before you reached the restrooms; by whatever grace was left in the world, there was no one else inside. You rushed to lock the door behind you, then tipped over the sinks and brought handfuls of cold water to your face. It dripped from your nose and your chin, your lips, as you panted and gripped the sides of the sink. Unconsciously, you ground your covered crotch against the hard edge of the counter.

There was no way you’d be able to make it out of here before you all but collapsed of horniness - forget about even getting back to your apartment. You needed to take care of things here and now.

Just as you were about to push into a stall and practically rip your pants down your legs to bury your fingers in your cunt, an alert popped into your vision screen. It was from Jackie. Just thinking of his name pulled a hoarse moan from your throat, one that echoed through the bathroom. You opened the message.

V

That was it. Only your name. No period, nothing special. Then -

V

V

V

Open the door

Now

Now chica

Your stomach clenched and your core ached as you realized how he knew exactly where you were; you each had private-channel trackers installed in your hard drives. Viktor had suggested it after a job gone wrong when Jackie had been dragged half a block to get the shit beaten out of him while you were searching the streets a neighborhood away.

Fuck these fucking trackers.

There was no way you could even look at Jackie while you were in this state. You knew the moment you laid eyes on him, you’d jump his bones. And while the thought sent shivers of desire running down your spine, you knew you could never live with yourself if you did. Of course Jackie would never feel the same way you felt about him; he was your friend. Your friend who had held your hair back while you thew up in an alleyway, your friend who had dragged your drunk and sorry ass home too many nights to remember. Your best friend, who had seen you in too many states of ugly and repulsive to ever want you the way you wanted him.

You ground yourself against the counter once more, letting a shaky moan be pulled from your throat. It reverberated throughout the bathroom, echoing back to your own ears like a jagged symphony.

You jumped when something banged against the restroom door. At the same moment, a flood of texts from Jackie swarmed your vision screen.

V

V

V

Answer me

Open the door

Now

V

NOW

CHICA

OPEN THE DOOR

V

DAMN IT V

FUCK

The banging on the door grew more and more desperate, more frantic, and you realized Jackie was trying to ram his shoulder into the metal. You gasped for breath, clutching onto the counter, your face still wet from splashing water on yourself.

He was going to break the door - or his shoulder.

Swallowing thick and trying to drown out your thunderous heartbeat by focusing on the pulsing music, you gingerly pushed off the counter and approached the door. Your legs shook and your cunt clenched, desperate to be filled. Fuck, it hurt. It hurt like nothing you’d ever felt before - it was a kind of sensation you had never even imagined existed.

As you reached out to flip the lock on the door, you briefly wondered if Jackie was under the influence of the drug as well. Surely he wasn’t nearly as down bad as you were right now; he was at least three times your body mass. That dose he’d been given couldn’t have possibly done the same number on him as it did you; he was far too bulked and beefed up for that.

Biting your tongue to keep from immediately launching yourself at him, you unlocked the door to the restroom and opened it.

Your breath hitched at the sight that awaited you on the other side.

Jackie filled the doorway like a persistent shadow, sweat beading at his brow and his lips parted as his chest rose and caved with labored breath. His shoulders were tensed, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his sides. He peered at you from beneath his lashes, and for the smallest, quickest fraction of a second, you were slightly afraid of him.

“Jackie,” you said, but his name came out in more of a whimper.

His eyes flashed and he stepped inside the restroom, hand blindly flipping the door shut behind him. He locked it with a click, his gaze never once leaving you.

You found yourself taking small steps back, your heart fluttering and your hormones screaming at you to drop to your knees and tug at his belt. But your brain was firing in a different direction, speeding into overdrive as your partner began to approach you, footsteps hitting heavy against the tile floor. Was he mad at you? Furious that you had screwed up this job so far, enraged that while he was out there looking for the prize, you were in here getting off on counter counters?

Or was he feeling the same effects you were?

It wasn’t until your back hit the opposite wall of the sinks did you realize Jackie had backed you into a corner. His eyes stared you down from beneath his brow, the cross earring swinging from his lobe with every crooked step he took. You pressed yourself against the chilly wall, palms pressed flat on the metal.

“Jackie,” you whispered.

He stopped only inches from your form, his arms encasing you on either side. When you inhaled, you caught a lungful of his cologne that singed your nose in just the right way. Your knees wobbled and you clenched your jaw to keep from moaning right there and then. Your core ached to be filled by the man in front of you, and your fingers twitched at your sides.

Jackie brought one of his hands to touch your neck, the soft expanse of skin just below your jaw, and this time you did finally whimper to him. A high-pitched whine escaped your throat as his tattooed fingers trailed across your delicate throat, which he could have so easily crushed at a moment’s notice. He cocked his head at the noise, earring swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

“I got’ta be crazy for this,” he murmured, perhaps to himself, as his fingers trailed down, past your shirt collar to your collarbone.

You released a garbled moan again, forcing yourself to keep up on your own two feet. “No,” you forced out. His eyes flickered to meet yours from where they had been lingering on your neck. “I feel it too.”

“Yeah?” His eyes became half-lidded, and when he leaned forward, you swallowed thick. “You feel it when I do this?” Slowly, tantalizingly, teasingly, he dragged his lips down the column of your throat - and then clamped his lips down when you moaned aloud. It echoed across the restroom like a call to action, like the blank starting off the race.

Everything exploded from then on.

Jackie brushed teeth along your neck as he sucked bruises and hickies into your skin, tongue laving over the raw spots. To spur him on, to bring him closer, your hands flew up to grasp at the back of his head. Your skin burst into tingles and miniature detonations where he touched you and you touched him, and it was almost too much to handle.

“Fuck, Jackie,” you whimpered out into the hot air.

Jackie had moved his ministrations down to the hollow of your throat, right between your collarbones, and he licked his tongue over a fresh bruise before tilting his head up to rest his forehead against yours. You longed to lean forward and kiss him, to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, but you could only stare back at him as his gaze bore into yours.

“Jesucristo,” he huffed, his breath fanning hot across your face. You core ached and your pussy clenched, and now that you were so close you could sense the stiff, prominent erection tenting his pants. “You think we got a dose’a that shit?”

“I don’t care,” you panted, then grabbed his lapels to pull him even closer. “Dammit, Jackie, please fuck me.” Your brow furrowed, and your eyes screwed shut because if he suddenly came to, if he suddenly realized he was just on a drug and didn’t really want this, you didn’t want to see it. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long, at this point I don’t care if it’s the drug. I need you so bad. I’ve needed you since you shoved your piece in my face in that garage, and I’ve needed you every fucking day since. Please - please, Jackie, fuck me.”

You stared at the darkness behind your eyelids, waiting for him to pull away. Waiting for him to tell you he was sorry, it was just the drug talking, that he needed to go. But he never did. Instead, you felt him take your chin between his thumb and his finger to tilt your head up. He pressed his forehead to yours again, then leaned his head until his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Open those eyes, chica,” he murmured. “I want you to watch me while I fuck you senseless.”

Not even a moment after you opened your eyes, your heart in your throat, Jackie attached his lips to yours as if he were going to die if he didn’t. He attacked your mouth with his own feverishly, almost violently - and you you wouldn’t have it any other way. Teeth clashing and tongues laving and moans rising from your throats, you barely registered it as he moved his hands over your sides. They traveled over your hips, squeezing the flesh of your ass, before grabbing your thighs just below.

“Jump.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Keeping your lips locked to his, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hopped into his grasp and locked your legs around his waist. You didn’t need to hesitate; you knew, you trusted, that he wouldn’t let you fall. He’d always been there for you, and he wasn’t about to stop now.

Jackie carried you to the countertop, where he set you down on the edge and came to settle between your spread thighs. He pushed them a bit further apart as if testing you, teasing you, seeing just how far you could go without snapping. You whimpered against his lips, tugging at his jacket.

“Hips up, chica bonita,” he said, and you at once obeyed. You lifted your hips as he took ahold of your waistband, trousers and panties together, and ripped them down your thighs. Almost as if the smell of your throbbing sex, almost as if he could actually smell it, he released a groan and bucked his hips forward to grind against your cunt. Your moans joined his and your nails dug into the leather of his jacket.

“Christ, Jackie!” you practically howled.

With one hand, he began to unbuckle his belt - your starving eyes following his every move - and the other flexed two fingers up the dampness of your slit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as a tidal wave of pleasure washed over you; if you weren’t bracing yourself against the counter behind you, you would have crumbled. An intensity like you’d never known before was taking over your systems, flooding your drives. The drug was amping itself up now that what you needed was finally within reach.

Jackie cocked his head again as he ran his fingers up and down your entrance, at last working his belt loose and shoving his pants down his thighs. His erection sprang from the confines of his boxers, and your mouth watered just looking at it. His member was just like the rest of him; big, and thick, and wide. It slapped against your thigh as he surged forward to slam his lips against yours again; it was almost painfully hard. If you thought the effects of the drug hurt you, you couldn’t begin to imagine how he was feeling.

“So wet for me already, mamita,” he drawled under his breath. He drew his hand from your core and you nearly whined before he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked your slick from his digits - all while maintaining eye contact with you. Then he brought his thumb, thick and calloused from years of manual labor, and brought it to your lips. You understood at once. Grabbing onto his wrist, you took his thumb into your mouth and gently sucked on it, swirling your tongue around the tip. He released a shaky sigh, then withdrew his digit and placed it over your clit. The moment he began to rub quick, harsh circles over it, you cried out - and yet they were swallowed up as he connected his lips to yours.

“Good girl,” he moaned, rutting his hips against your thigh. “Good fuckin’ girl, V.”

You keened at his praise, spreading your legs further for him as he took his thick cock in hand and began to line himself up with your entrance. Outside the bathroom door, the music pumped and people were shouting with glee and lust, but you could hear none of it. You were transfixed on the man before you, the man that was peering down at you like you were his entire world.

“Fuck me, Jackie,” you told him in a strained voice. “Fuck me like you want it.”

“You better believe I do, chica,” he rumbled. “Always have.” Without another word, he pushed himself into your sopping pussy in one fluid movement. You opened your mouth to moan, but nothing came out. You were far too stunned, far too high on cloud nine to even think about coming down. Jackie’s cock stretched you in the most delicious way, practically spearing you open as his hips lay flush against yours. He tilted his head back to the ceiling and groaned low from deep in his throat, a noise that had you clenching around him.

That seemed to set him back into motion. His large hands wrapped around your middle, just above your hips, and used that as leverage to begin pistoning his cock in and out of your pussy. Your back arched and your mouth fell open as he pounded into you mercilessly, chasing not just your relief but his as well. The drug was still coursing through the both of you, driving your bodies to the extremes to get what they needed.

His name spilled from your lips, slowly at first, then quickly, like a mantra or a desperate prayer. His member was dragging across your walls in the most perfect way, letting you feel every ridge and vein and velvety inch. He would pull out almost entirely, then slam back into you again, his grip on your abdomen the only thing keeping you from inching up the counter.

“Jackie!” you wailed up to the ceiling. “Jackie! Fuck, Jackie!”

“That’s it, mamita,” he panted, dragging you further down the counter toward him. “Scream my name for them all to hear.” He slowed his pace, only slightly, so that he could lean over you and gaze down at you with half-lidded eyes. “I want them to know who you belong to.” He straightened, then slammed into you with a particularly harsh thrust that brushed against that sweet, heavenly spot inside of you. Your hands scrabbled for purchase on the counter, your legs wrapped tight around his waist.

“Right there!” you screamed, gripping onto his inked forearms. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop.”

“Tell me who you belong to, princesa.” He slowed his pace even further, instead opting to rail into you with deep, hard-hitting thrusts that left you seeing stars. “Tell me.”

You panted for breath, your cunt squeezing around him, begging for your nearing release. “You,” you breathed out, then yelped when he slammed into you. Your back slid slightly up the counter. “You!” you bayed, your throat beginning to go raw from the howling and begging. “Only you! Just you, baby, only you.”

Another thrust, one that forced black spots into your vision. The pleasure was right there, just on the brink, teetering on the edge.

“Tell them.” When you hesitated, Jackie leaned down and licked a short stripe up your throat. “Tell them who you belong to.”

Who were you to disobey? “Jackie!” you cried out, and you were faintly aware of the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks, born from the raw, unbridled pleasure and the pain of being kept from it. “Jackie Welles! Jackie - FUCK!”

“Cum for me, V.”

Spreading your thighs even further apart, he slammed into your cunt, bringing his thumb down to stroke at your clit all at once. It took only a number of thrusts until suddenly you were cumming. It was an almost violent, explosive, drowning-kind of orgasm that left you gasping for air you couldn’t draw in. You were blinded by the spots dancing in your vision, your limbs leaden and your lungs aching for air. You were above cloud nine; you were in heaven.

Above you, Jackie’s hips were beginning to stutter and falter in their rhythm. He yanked you down the counter again, slamming his hips into yours in a frantic sprint to his own finish. You watched him as he used you, unable to move or even speak as he groaned and grunted and railed into you one last time before he spilled into your pussy. A staggered moan was pulled from his lips as he emptied himself, his earring swinging as he slumped over you on the counter.

For a long, long while, you were both simply silent, still connected, sharing each other’s air as you regained your breath. Finally, Jackie stood straight again and slowly pulled his softening cock from your cunt. You winced as he fell from you, everything from your waist down practically numb. Your entrance, your clit, your thighs - sore, and red, and spent.

You said nothing, suddenly exhausted out of your mind and unable to do anything much, as Jackie grimaced tucking himself back into his pants, buckled his belt, then grabbed a few towels and wet them in the sink. He shushed your whimpers of overstimulation as he gently cleaned you up, keeping you quiet and still when he helped pull your pants back up and your shirt back down from where it had bunched up around your middle. Then he gingerly pulled you off the counter, slid down the wall of the sink, and cradled you in his arms.

Had the circumstances been different, you would have laughed. Jackie was holding you against him, nestling against your forehead and petting your hair on the filthy-ass floor of a club bathroom. But they weren’t different. You had just been drugged, and then fucked within an inch of your life by your best friend.

What a fucking mess this night had turned out to be.

Your bottom half ached as Jackie shifted you in his lap, keeping you cradled against him protectively. He smoothed your sweaty hair from your forehead, brushing the thumb you had sucked gently over the jut of your cheekbone.

“Jack-“

“Aye, carino, save that pretty voice of yours. We got to get you home-“

“Did you mean it?” Your voice came out sluggish and hoarse, strained from screaming his name.

Jackie peered down at you with a furrowed brow, carefully wiping away a tear stain on your cheek. “Mean what?”

“That…” You found your words sticking in your throat. You averted your gaze from his, instead focusing it on a corner of the ceiling. Another stroke of his thumb along your face at last coaxed the question from where it had been resting deep within your belly. “That you always have. Meant it.”

He stayed there for a moment so long it felt as if it had stretched into an hour. Before you could take it back, say it had just been the drug to try and cover your embarrassment, a small, crooked smirk spread across his features and he ran a hand over his face.

“Fuck, V,” he murmured, then exhaled a breath and craned his neck down so that your noses nudged together. It was a strangely passionate gesture, so foreign after the sinful acts you’d just committed. “Been wanting you just as long, chica. See you every day, looking like that, and it feels like I’m… I don’t know, a ticking fucking bomb. Didn’t know when I was gon’na go off.” He glanced up and around at the bathroom surrounding you. “Wish it would’ve been somewhere else, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

You stared up at him, the ache blossoming through your used body momentarily forgotten. At first you thought it was the drug talking, that soon his eyes would darken and he would be ready for another round. He wasn’t in his right mind; he was just saying these things to get you riled up.

But as you held his gaze, and he gingerly leaned down to capture your swollen lips in a soft, gentle kiss, you realized it was all real. It was all true. No drug-fueled fuck sessions, no lies - nothing but the truth. He did really, truly want you, just the way you were.

Slowly, Jackie pulled away from the kiss to smooth your brow with his thumb and press his lips against your forehead. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

A drained, sluggish smile overtook your lips. “No,” you murmured and reached up to cup his weathered cheek. “I know you’d never hurt me, Jackie.”

You stumbled through the club together a while later, supporting each other’s weights as you stopped at the front doors to collect your weapons from the bouncers. The woman who had drugged you still sat on her stool, and she watched you both with a knowing, charming smirk. When you met her eye, she winked before turning to the next customer in line.

A tired sigh escaped your lips as you collapsed into your car’s passenger seat, having handed over the keys to Jackie upon his insistence. He climbed in beside you, his own lids drooping as he started the engine. Then a grin passed over his features as he dug around in his pocket before flipping a small object your way. You caught it, then opened your palms to find one of the small tabs of drugged ink lying on its side.

“What?” he teased as he settled his hands on the wheel. “You didn’t think I’d forget about the job, did you?” His thick brow quirked. “Not that I didn’t just have the best fuckin’ night of my life with my girl.”

You smiled and flipped the tab of ink into the air. “You’re something else, Jackie.”

“I’ll be whatever you like, princesa,” he said before peeling away from the curb. “As long as you remember that you’re mine.”

[anayame]

troll who isnt allowed caffeine or she'll reenact the Hammy energy drink scene from over the hedge clay prefers tea anyway

[anayame]

UWAHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCH I WAS GRINNING THE WHOLE TIME!! Such amazing writing 💜💜

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x Reader (no pronouns used)

SUMMARY — James comes home just in time to help with dinner

WARNINGS — one almost dirty joke

NOTE — This is a request from the winner of my fic lottery @anayame The concept was so cute to write and I hope you like it!

Middle picture credit goes to @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

It had been a while since James could confidently say he had come home to the smell of food being cooked in the kitchen. The sound of onions sizzling and sauces bubbling was like a fanfare welcoming and inviting him into the space. 

“Hey, you got back home just in time,” he heard your voice call from the kitchen. “I need an extra pair of hands, get in here.” 

“Normally when people say that it means the food is already finished cooking,” James teased, after having taken off his shoes and rolled up his sleeves so that you could put him to work. 

“And let you miss out on this fun?” you scoffed. “No way.” 

“Where do you need me?” he asked, coming to stand behind you, placing his hands on your hips and pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Cause I’m more than happy to just keep doing this.” 

“Ease up, lover boy,” you chuckled. “Steak needs searing and I know how particular you get about your perfect medium.” 

“Steak, are we celebrating?” he asked. 

“Yes, the fact that you made it home on time for dinner,” you looked over at him to gauge his reaction and he couldn’t fight back a smile and shook his head. 

“How was work?” he asked, side-stepping your comment. 

“My arch-nemesis is an eight-year-old named Justin, how do you think work went?” you asked and James laughed at your response. “I’m kidding, it was alright, Justin has a cold so he wasn’t in class today.” 

“I’m excited to come in for career day and meet all these eight-year-olds that occupy every story you tell,” he said. “Who knows, maybe Justin will like me.” 

“I doubt it, he only likes his friend Asante and even then sometimes Asante still gets caught up in his whirlwind. Kind of like you and House actually.” 

“I do not get caught up in his whirlwind,” James looked at you, offended, and you looked over at him to ask if he was serious. 

“You lied to the police for him, you most definitely got caught up in it.” 

James opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but shut it seeing as you had made a very valid point. 

“How was your day at work?” you asked. “Did Cuddy finally approve that expansion for the playroom?” 

“Not quite yet, but I think I’m almost there. Maybe if I throw House under the bus when he goes behind her back that’ll sweeten the deal,” he thought to himself. 

“But at what cost, House is gonna fight back and you’re gonna regret every decision you ever made.” 

James weighed his options before giving up and saying he’d decide what to do about it later. 

You moved over to the stove where James was to pour some pureed tomatoes into the onions frying on the stove to make a sauce to go on the side with the vegetables and the steak. What you didn’t realize is that James, in his haste to turn down the heat on the stove, would knock the spoon out of your hand, making it fall in the dish and making the tomatoes splatter all over your shirt. 

“Oh my God,” James’ eyes went wide, seeing the splotch on your shirt. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I should have known having you in the kitchen would only result in disaster,” you teased, not at all upset by the mess. “It’s nothing a little TLC can’t take care of.” 

“Can I make it up to you?” James asked. “I know how much you liked that shirt.” 

You used your finger to scoop off some of the pureed tomato off your shirt and place it on his nose. 

“I don’t know, can you?” you asked with raised brows. 

James wiped the sauce off his nose before grabbing your sleeves and giving you a signal with his eyes for you to slip your arms out of them before he helped pull the shirt off your head without contaminating anything else, leaving you in a thin tank top. 

“I think you’re just making it up to yourself,” you laughed, looking down at what you were wearing. 

“If I were making it up to myself, I would have done this,” he took the spoon out of the tomato sauce and flicked it at you, now getting your undershirt dirty. “Oops.” 

“Oh, you’re so going to pay for that,” you shook your head and just to spite him you kept the tank top on even though it was dirty. 

By then the butter in James’ pan had melted and was beginning to bubble so he turned his attention back to the stove so that he could begin searing the steak. You cooked in tandem for a while, and once the steak was cooked James stole a few kisses from you, apologizing again for your shirt and you assured him he could take it off later if he really wanted to. 

“Do you want me to set the table?” James asked, after washing his hands and having set the steak off to the side. 

“That would be nice, it could be like a little home date,” you smiled while putting some potatoes in the oven to cook. 

You watched as James dug around the cupboards for a tablecloth and candles, carefully setting everything up on the dining room table so that it was just right. 

Slowly, one by one, the dishes made their way onto the table as they were ready and when everything was set up you looked down at yourself and wondered if maybe you were a bit underdressed. 

“Maybe I should change into something a little nicer,” you said while James lit the candles on the table. 

“Change, what for?” 

“I’ve got tomato all over my shirt, James. I thought that one was pretty obvious.” 

“No, I mean this is a home date, isn’t the whole point that it can be as messy as we want it to be?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t have to wear this tie,” he pointed to it as he came closer to you, prompting you to take it between your fingers and feel the fabric before helping him untie it and throw it off to the side. 

You unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and for good measure he took a spoon of the sauce and poured it on his shirt. 

“There, we match.” 

“And need to do a load of laundry after this,” you chuckled and pulled him in by the collar of his shirt for a kiss. “I love you, and I love cooking with you.” 

“Me too, to both of those things,” James agreed and you grinned before turning him around and pushing him in the direction of his seat, insisting that you were starving and needed to eat. “So, I was thinking,” James started while serving you some sides. 

“Oh, that’s dangerous.” 

“I was thinking,” he repeated. “Our anniversary is coming up. Do you want to do something special?” 

“Hmm,” you thought for a moment. “We could both take a sick day,” you suggested. “Or a few, go up to Connecticut, rent a cabin.” 

“Cook all day,” James teased and you smiled. “I think that sounds like a great plan. We’ve always talked about doing something like that haven’t we?” 

“Yeah, it just…I don’t know, never seemed like the right time.” 

“You sure you won’t miss your kiddos too much?” he asked. 

“As much as I love them, a few days just the two of us is too enticing to pass up,” you sipped your drink. 

Eating dinner was not nearly as fun as cooking it together, but you both made do with what you could and James stories were nothing short of interesting especially when they included House and his team. 

“Alright, I think I’m stuffed now,” you leaned back in your seat. “But we should clean this up before I go into a food coma.” 

“I wash, you rinse?” James asked. 

“We have a dishwasher, James,” you chuckled. 

“I know, I just thought you might want to spend more time, but I know when my company isn’t wanted,” he feigned offence. 

“Awe, that’s actually really sweet,” you let out a small laugh. “Alright, I’ll suffer through dishwashing for you, Wilson.” 

“Just for that, you’re washing and I’m rinsing,” he gave you a look and you conceded, standing up from the table and clearing the leftovers before getting started on what was in the sink. 

“James, be careful with that, you’re accidentally spraying water all over me,” you nudged him with your hip. 

“Oh sorry I meant to actually spray water all over you,” he turned the moveable faucet in your direction and you gasped when the water hit your shirt. “I mean you did say we needed to do laundry.” 

“Is this why you wanted to wash dishes? To get me wet?-I heard it James don’t you dare make a comment,” you immediately amended and he fought back a chuckle. 

“I love you,” he smiled again and you wished he would wipe that stupid grin off of his face because it made it really hard to be annoyed with him. 

“You think you can just say I love you and it’s gonna make it all better?” you asked. “Cause you’re right, it is,” you grabbed his face with your soapy hands and pressed a kiss to his lips, sandwiched between smiles and chuckles. 

To say you both looked ridiculous by the end was an understatement, but James couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun at dinner and it became very clear that maybe he needed to come home a little early more often.

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter @kiddbegins @il0vebeingdelulu @illicit4ff4irs @lynnsthoughts @miarabanana @iwmflbb @/shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

[anayame]

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE: THE BEGINNING

behind the scenes

[anayame]

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE: THE BEGINNING

[anayame]

Before Dawn

credit

warning(s): none

pair: james wilson x gn!reader

one shot or hc: one shot

note: for a bit of context, you live with House and its not accurate to his apartment because i pictured a home 🏠. so let’s pretend House has a house lol. apologies for any grammar mistakes, hope yall enjoy!

word count: 1.4k

house md masterlist

You try looking at the side of the house and then towards the street, black as the night. Nothing was visible without the illumination from some streetlights, the moon was left as the brightest. Your phone had died so you were going in blind, hoping one of the windows on the side was open. After fumbling around, trying not to ruin the garden too much, you find yourself at your bedroom window. It was locked shut and nothing you had could open it, you huffed and moved on to the next one. After being very slow not to trip, you found the other window. It was House’s window, you hesitated to open it and took a deep breath. You refused to let him catch you doing something like this. The bullying wouldn’t stop. Yet you tried nonetheless.

You budge at the window a little, it didn’t move. You try once more and it shifts slightly, enough to pump you full of adrenaline to continue. The window opened just wide enough for you to slip through, catching yourself to slowly ease on the ground. You hadn’t checked whether House was awake, he was a deep sleeper so it didn’t matter much anyway. Maybe today it should’ve. You sensed something… different.

As soon as you were on your feet, you leaned in closer to the body lying on House’s bed, it was not House. No because the person sleeping was Wilson, the one and only friend that House had. Your jaw dropped slightly and you tried to look if House was sleeping beside him, but there was no one else. Eventually, after debating on whether to ask about the situation or not, you shrugged it off. You slowly started creeping toward the door, the floor creaking at very uneventful times. It must’ve been almost 1:30am and you simply wanted to lay on your bed and sleep.

You felt something grab at your wrist which startled you, but you eventually realized Wilson had a tight grip. And you tried to wiggle yourself out, but he was adamant on not letting go while sleeping. You sigh, wanting to stomp on the floor and just wake him up, but you were simply too nice.

It might’ve also been because he looked very adorable sleeping and snoring. His hair parted messily and it was long enough to add some wavy length to it. You smiled to yourself for a moment, leaning to touch it but he moved suddenly. And forcefully pulled you on top of him.

You wished you were stronger, but sleepy Wilson was taking you with him. There was slight panic as you went along with it, eventually getting on top of him but trying not to touch him in any way. Your knees were at his sides and your wrist was still gripped, you tried to stand back next to the bed but he decided to flip on his stomach. Anyone watching you would never go along like this, but you felt too guilty to wake him. Eventually you laid on your side on the bed, next to his own unconscious body.

There was a moment where you watched him carefully, seeing how slivers of hair were turned every which way. His freckles washed away on his face due to age, leaving all these facial markings on his nose and cheeks. Wilson’s lips were slightly parted, making him snore, his warm breath could be felt on your own skin. The two of you were so close, the tiniest details couldn’t slip away from you. And how his stubble was growing hair, probably going to shave once he woke up that morning. You hesitated to even breathe, it was shallow, his eyes were closed and yet he seemed to frown with his eyebrows furrowed.

The grip began to weaken and you yawned, covering your mouth to be quiet. Yet it was the moment Wilson decided to open his eyes and yelp. A small scared, yelp.

Your own eyes widened as you were pushed off the bed onto the floor, groaning at the impact to your butt. Wilson crawled to where you fell, still atop the bed and stared down with those big brown eyes. You fell into his gaze trying not to become too mesmerized as he squinted. His hair drooped slightly and his mouth was agape to see your face again, less close.

“What are you doing here?!” he whisper-shouted, which meant someone else was still sleeping. You looked at him with the same confusion.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?! I live here!” you offered the same energy and stood up as he followed your body movements with his eyes.

“But you were in bed with me!”

“You pulled me in!”

There was a slight pause, almost as if he was thinking it over, still very confused.

“I did not!” he replied, like a child who was getting in trouble by their parents, you stood there with your arms crossed and the urge to tap your foot. Wilson, not for a second, took his eyes off of you.

He eventually gave up on his frowning and sat down, turning on the lamp from the bedside table. It strained both of your eyes, making you look away at the bright light amongst the night. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Okay, I’m sorry about… all that.” He finally said whilst pointing at your hand and the bed, looking at you with a guilty expression. Wilson looked sleepy, eyes half-opened and his hair a rugged mess. You couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for all that too.” You say, mimicking his tone and pointing at the window. “Late night and I lost my keys.” You huffed in disappointment and turned to gaze at the door which was slightly ajar. Wilson sighed when he followed what you were looking at and stood up.

“I’ll go sleep on the couch.” He stood up and tried to walk past you, dragging a blanket from the bed, but stopped when you stepped in front of him.

“Go back to bed Wilson.” And it was your commanding voice… he couldn’t help but follow and sit back down. “I’ll sleep on the couch, don’t worry about it.” Your voice was suddenly calm again, sweet now that you weren’t crossing your arms.

“But- but???” He tried his very best to argue with this single word and ultimately failed.

“It won’t permanently damage my back, it’s fine.”

“Okay…” was all he could muster at the moment in front of you.

“Goodnight Wilson.” You began to walk towards the door and when your hand gripped the doorknob, he spoke.

“Call me James.” He was soft, assured, and in a way flirtatious (or that’s what you were hoping). You looked back at him, he sat still at the edge of the bed while looking at you for a response. You smiled, the light still illuminating your face, which in Wilson’s case made you look a lot more beautiful than he could ever have imagined.

“James…” it rolled off your tongue so easily that it felt like a test drive the first time you said it in his presence. The small smile didn’t leave your expression and you hoped he couldn’t see it too well. Yet he caught every detail that night, from the moment he opened his eyes.

When you finally stepped out and closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but grin. Certainly the first name basis meant something, a unique relationship with Wilson (James). You whispered his name into the darkness as if a summons, scurrying off to the couch once the giggles washed over you.

On the other side of the door, Wilson laid down, staring at the ceiling in awe. Already trying to remember every detail of the interaction. By the time he was tired enough to sleep, it was 2:30 am.

Wilson dreamt about you that night.

[anayame]

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐌.𝐃. —

James Wilson

'Til Death Do Us Part

- James and Reader receive some news that changes everything

[anayame]

𝐌𝐈𝐌𝐈'𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘

INFO —

This is a little idea I had the other day to help me find my fellow James Wilson fans so I’m hoping this reaches the right people! Essentially, if you choose to participate your username will be put into a random draw and first place will be able to request a SFW James Wilson x Reader one shot from me and second and third place will be able to request blurbs!

Lottery will be open from Feb 1st 2024 to Feb 15th 2024

RULES —

Reblog this post!

Reblog my House M.D. masterlist linked here

Send me an ask off anon saying you’d like to be added into the lottery (link here)

ADDITIONAL NOTES —

Make sure your settings let me reach you by DM in case you win

I am still in the progress of watching the show and have currently seen up to S3 E12 and am trying to avoid spoilers!

As mentioned above all requests must be SAFE FOR WORK (we can discuss in a little bit more detail what you would like if you win what this implies but essentially the big deal is no explicit smut)

Reblogs help content creators! This is a bit of an exercise in reblogging content as well so don’t forget that step

If you want to be added to my taglist fill out this google form!

Thank you in advance to anyone who chooses to participate and support! If you have any questions don't hesitate to come into my ask and to clarify! Can’t wait to share more of my fics and ideas with you all <3

[anayame]

wish u were here | james wilson

pairing: james wilson x reader

warnings: you just gotta hear me out guys. whats it called when it isnt technically cheating but it feels like cheating (from both parties, not on each other), entirely self indulgent and selfship coded, wilson calls reader "birdie" (cringe idc), angst. based loosely on lips of an angel by hinder and glimpse of us by joji, thats all for now plz forgive me

word count: 1.4k

wilson rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep from them as he heard his phone vibrating on the nightstand next to him. the name lighting up his screen was yours, causing him to hurriedly grab his phone and press answer.

“hello?” his voice was tired, still laced with the deep sleep he was pulled from for this phone call. “y/n, you know it’s almost three in the morning, right?” wilson slowly removed the covers from his legs, trying his best not to wake his fiance sleeping next to him.

“james,” the soft exhale of his name made his heart ache. how long had it been since you last spoke? “sorry, i know it’s late. it’s probably stupid to call you i just…” the small sob caught him off guard.

“are you crying?” wilson closed the bathroom door, still keeping his voice down just in case. “is everything okay?”

there was a hesitation on the other end of the phone and he could feel it. you were trying to find a way around telling him the truth. “birdie, you know you can trust me.”

birdie. that godawful, stupid nickname you used to hate. you used to roll your eyes every time he’d use it to get your attention, or let it slip in conversation with your friends and coworkers. but now it just made another cry escape your lips. you missed it, you missed him.

“just miss you,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice down as well. “we’ve been fighting a lot lately. and you were in my dream last night- it just felt right to call you.”

wilson sighed. he was relieved to hear that you were okay, his heart rate steadying. though he couldn’t help the annoyed feeling that overtook him as you mentioned your current boyfriend. “i’m glad you’re safe, but you know you really shouldn’t have-”

“can we save the lecture for another time, james?” you let out a shaky laugh. you don’t know what else you expected from him, “i just wanted to hear your voice.”

his free hand ran over his face, trying to rationalize it in his head. it would be okay if he spoke to you, right? just speaking on the phone isn’t wrong, and it wouldn’t hurt anyone. right?

“i can stay on for a little bit. but not too long, if she were to find out i’m on the phone with you it’ll just cause a fight.” wilson sat on the cool tile of his bathroom floor, back against the door. his eyes closed as he listened to the sound of your voice through the phone. “do you need to talk about the fights?”

“it hasn’t been anything serious. it just seems like he’s always angry, i can never win with him.” you sigh, “maybe i’m just too busy comparing him to you all the time. i know i shouldn’t. but it’s hard not to.”

wilson wanted to provide you some sort of comfort, let you know that he often did the same with his fiance. “have you still been going to therapy?”

“yeah.” you answer quickly, remembering how he urged you to talk to someone after you two split, because it would be good for you. “she doesn’t know much about my current partner, though. i don’t like to talk about him.” i don’t love him. you wanted to say, but bit your tongue. you weren’t sure if that would help or hurt anything. probably hurt, if you had to guess.

“if you don’t tell her how is she supposed to help you?” you hadn’t changed a bit, and that made his heart ache. you were the exact same version of yourself that he was in love with. knowing that makes leaving you less justifiable, it makes getting over you harder. “you have to cooperate with her.”

“can you tell me about how you’ve been?” you asked, a sniffle following. “is she nice to you?” you didn’t want to talk about yourself, not really. especially not about what you have or haven’t been talking about in therapy. 

right, the two of you hadn’t spoken since breaking up. despite working at the same hospital, the two of you managed very easily to avoid each other. afterall, the morgue and the oncology department weren’t exactly wall neighbors.

“yeah, yeah she is nice to me.” wilson nodded, a small smile finding its way to his face. he loves his fiance, she’s an amazing woman. she surprises him and makes him dinner, likes watching his favorite shows with him. but… “but she isn’t you.”

you weren’t aware that four words could change your mood so quickly, feeling your stomach fill with warmth and you heart beat quickened. it was nice, in a fucked up way, to know that he missed you as much as you missed him.

“it’s frustrating,” wilson added, “seems like everytime we’re having a good moment i just think of you. wondering to myself if i would be enjoying it more if it were you.” it felt nice to say out loud, like it was a secret he had been keeping for a long time (it was). “sometimes i think she knows.”

“sometimes he does things you used to do and i swear it’s like i can see you standing there instead of him.” you confess, tears still falling down your face despite the smile. “i’m glad she treats you well. it’s what you deserve.”

what he deserves is a death sentence. he internally scolded himself, knowing that he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t be on the phone with you after not speaking for a year and a half. he was supposed to be getting married this time next year. yet here he was, sitting on his bathroom floor and talking with you, his ex on the phone at half past three in the morning.

“you deserve someone who is going to make you happy, too, y/n.” wilson swallowed harshly. why did he so badly want to be the one to make you happy? why did he feel so bothered over the thought of it being someone that isn’t him? “you should just…just dump that asshole. you know you could do better.”

you wanted to laugh. he was right, of course you could do better. “honestly when i break up with him i think it’ll be my last for awhile. i’m…tired of putting effort into people who don’t do the same.”

he wasn’t sure how many people you had seen since he broke things off with you, he had intentionally avoided that information from house because he didn’t want to know. it didn’t matter if it had been only one or several, he knew he’d hate it either way. “you can’t think like that. then you’ll never find anyone.” encouraging you to find someone else. that was the right thing to be doing here. encouraging you to seek comfort in someone that wasn’t him, or your piece of shit boyfriend. “you’ve always been so pessimistic, just try to look on the bright side of things for once, yeah?”

“you answering the phone is the only bright side i think i’ve had for awhile,” you confess with a laugh and another sniffle. you weren’t sure when you stopped crying but you were thankful you had, already feeling the headache it would bring on. “do you think we can ever be friends again?”

wilson stiffened. yes. he wanted to tell you. but he wasn’t sure that was the right answer. “i don’t know, y/n. there’s a lot that would have to happen for us to be able to be friends again.” i’d have to get over you. 

“i knew that’s what you were going to say,” you gave a lighthearted chuckle. “i should…get off of here now. it’s late. we work in the morning. goodnight, james. it was nice talking to you.”

“you, too, y/n. goodnight.” wilson listened to the call disconnect as he let his phone clatter to the ground. it had been so long, he had been doing so well not thinking of you until tonight. all it took was one little phone call for you to worm your way back into his heart.

or rather, it only took one phone call for him to remember why he never should have let you go to begin with.

i rly am amazed that im posting this in 2023 but he is literally the love of my life right now. comments, reblogs, and likes appreciated!

[anayame]

"If you don't stop-" | James Wilson x Reader

Fictober 2023 Day 14 - "If you don't stop-"

James Wilson x gender netural!Reader

Warnings: flirting, some sexual references, no use of Y/N, James being a simp

A hospital reception isn’t a most thought-of setting for a flashy poker tournament, but the gathering of hospital staff and supporters alike dressed to the nines in suits and gowns certainly helped create a little slice of Vegas.

You were no exception; your own evening wear clung delightfully to your body as you strolled around the room. You clutched two glasses of champagne as you peered through the sea of faces: Chase was lounged against a table as he attempted to chat up his newest conquest, Foreman was hiding his laugh behind his hand at Chase’s romantic desperation, and Cameron had already walked back into the crowd with exasperation at her colleagues.

But none of them was who you were looking for.

Somewhere among the crowd of happy poker players was your boyfriend, James Wilson. Any opportunity to play poker with House (and raise money for charity, of course) Wilson would take and so you scanned over the green tables until, eventually, you found him.

James’s brow was furrowed more intensely than during one of his consults as he glared down at his cards. And his brow furrowed further has House leaned over with his trademarked childish grin with some devious attempt to put his friend off. A shout from Lisa Cuddy broke the two apart, her impressive stack of chips more than signifying her eagerness to play. They all looked so charming in their bow ties and dress respectively, James the most so: he was alluring in his fitted tuxedo, entirely at home in suave and sophisticated finery. He’d been looking forward to this night for weeks and you couldn’t wait to spend it with him.

You started walking over to the trio as Dr House looked up at you and nudged Wilson in the side. James’s eyes flitted up to you and he was immediately transfixed. His gaze followed you like a moth to the flame as you walked towards him, as smooth as the swaying jazz in the background. James’s eyes ran up and down your body unabashedly with a small boyish smile to himself. If he could linger in every single inch of your body he would, worshiping the sight like a holy man to his only vice. Slowly, he dragged his eyes back to your beaming smile as your rounded the poker table to his side. You reached down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek and as you pulled away, he followed into your warmth. James’s eyes remained closed for a moment, breathing deeply into your scent. As you greeted him, he replied with a high-pitched, almost pained sigh and a whisper.

“I really hate you.”

You were taken aback for a second. You looked down at your boyfriend with an incredulous smile.

“Oh, love you too, babe,” you replied, sarcastically. James’s brain suddenly kicked out of its daze as he reached up to stroke your hip.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he apologised quickly. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just- you look- you’re absolutely stunning… But I still hate you.” He could be such an enigma sometimes.

“Why? What have I done?”

“You’re being very… distracting,” James’s eyes flicked to your lips for a second. Your head fell back as your let out a laugh.

“You’re usually fine with me being distracting,” you said, faux-innocently, using your height advantage to lean over James as your body pressed into his. Even an untrained eye could see his held breath at the touch of your body against his.

“Yes, I’ve seen you be very distracting through the windows of Wilson’s office,” House teased around the cigar between his lips. Your head whipped around like a flash to meet a wink from House as Wilson coughed and spluttered at his friend.

“What?! I thought the curtains were closed!”

“You did what in Wilson’s office?” Cuddy interrogated with disbelief from across the table as you and your equally-guilty boyfriend blushed a deep crimson.

“Anyway…” you rushed to change the subject from your less-than-professional sex life. But that didn’t have to be the end of your fun. “I got you a drink, James.” You bent forwards to place your second glass of champagne down on the table and unashamedly pressed your chest into James’s face as you leaned in. His eyes closed in a dizzy state of bliss.

“If you don’t stop now-“ James warned, lowly.

“Stop what, baby?” you replied coyly, brushing your fingers through your boyfriend’s coiffed hair just how he liked it.

“Please,” James let out in a whine. Just then, you spotted Cameron waving to you from across the room. Suddenly, you stood up straight, righted your dress and pressed a deep kiss to James’s lips. You ripped a low moan from his chest as you pulled away all too soon.

“Bye, babe. Good luck!” You winked as you quickly ran off in search of your friend, leaving James Wilson knowing this would be a long night.

[anayame]

“Y-you s-shouldn’t just g-give out pictures to s-trangers…!” Undyne stuttered, surprised and dismayed.

“yup. you’re absolutely right.” Papy agreed.

—- a very quick sketch of one of my fave exchanges ever. :)  from: The Last Laugh by @kamari333

[anayame]

Hugging this man is not a desire, it’s a necessity.

Instagram | Ko-fi | Commissions

[anayame]

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE: THE BEGINNING (2006)

[anayame]

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

[anayame]

So cute~

Billy tries to make me feel better mid-breakdown as I try to finish two essays and an entire art project in under three days

This was self-comfort somehow

[anayame]

Giving love and affection to someone who needs it ,

gotta love them both texan bois.......

[anayame]

"Interrupted during work"

DONE! Finally finished this work, had some troubles with clip studio,. but I DID IT. So Luda Mae. Even though Thomas is ashamed of how he looks and doesn't like being on photos bc of that, she doesn't think he should be that self-criticizing.

A smol wholesome moment :>