#josh kiszka x jake kiszka x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

builtbybrokenbells · 3 months

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Reaching New Heights

While under the impression that she has the house to herself, y/n enjoys some much needed alone time. Jake, planning on coming home to surprise her, walks himself straight into a whole new world.

Based off this request 🤍

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, virgin reader/losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), masturbating (f!receiving), simultaneous orgasm, multiple orgasm, very soft dom type beat, slight cockwarming if you squint, dry humping, touch of spit play, touch of voyeurism, praise, dirty talk, name calling, begging, very very sweet Jake ☹️, anxiety, fluff, swearing, talks of bad dating experiences, sorry if I miss any!

thank to the lovely anon who requested this! sorry for all of my other requests waiting, I promise I’m getting there! I had an idea like this already sitting in the drafts, so when I saw this request I had to write it! I hope this is what you were looking for, and I do apologize for this basically just being pwp. As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍 (extremely lightly edited)

Intimacy, especially in the sexual context, had always been a touchy subject for you. It wasn’t because of any moral dilemmas, nor because of bad past experiences. You weren’t saving yourself for marriage, and you did not value your virginity as a ‘virtue’. You simply chose not to engage because you had never met anyone who you believed was right for you. You had plenty of dates and failed talking stages with men who only ever seemed interested in getting in your pants, but you had never met someone who seemed interested in you beyond anything sexual. You wanted to explore, to test your own limits and discover yourself with another person, but you could not bring yourself to undress for someone who only wanted (and planned) to leave after the fact.

You were comfortable with your own routine, and after a while it seemed more likely that you would remain a virgin until your hair turned gray and you were sat in a nursing home. At first, it bothered you, but then it became the most normal part of your life. You would rather keep to yourself than give away a part of you to someone who would not appreciate it. Most people weren’t interested in dating once you specified that you would not put out on the first date, and to you, that was okay; they weren’t worth your time or effort. Life was simple without anyone else empeding on your routine, anyway.

Then, one fateful day at a lovely, locally owned music store, you found yourself in front of someone who changed your world entirely, flipping it on its axis and throwing your whole life off course. You had (literally) run into him when you were least expecting it; he had stepped in front of you as you were bustling to the counter to pay for your handful of vinyl records. He apologized profusely, landing a gentle hand on your arm to make sure you were steady on your feet and he hadn’t hurt you. You were too enthralled in the beauty of his face to comprehend the words he was speaking, anyway. His long brown hair hung down to frame his face, and his warm, chocolate coloured eyes seemed to be staring straight into your soul. His smile was inviting, and his charm was unexplainable. He’d made you fall for him without even trying.

Once you managed to overcome your nervous staring, you forced a smile and assured him you were alright. He introduced himself, hesitant to believe you were telling the truth, and insisted on buying your records for you as an apology. After a drawn out back-and-forth argument, he eventually managed to convince you that it was the only apology he would allow for himself. Before you ventured to the counter, you took interest in the specific guitar he was fawning over on the wall. After explaining the details to you, you were left feeling disappointed at the prospect of having to part with him once you stepped out the door.

He ended up buying your records, and the guitar hanging on the wall, but he didn’t seem to want to let you leave without anything more, either.

So, instead of going your separate ways, you ended up at a diner just down the street, sharing lunch and getting to know each other as best as you could in the limited time you had. Laughs were plentiful and fulfillment was felt from all sides. Jake Kiszka was the man you had been waiting for, someone who saw you as a person, not just something to fuck. He was interested in every small detail, and he wanted to know everything he could about you. He was a bit shy, and very nervous, but he was sweet, kind, and he took your breath away. When you left the restaurant, you had a new found excitement for life, and a phone number in your contact list that would now be called on the daily.

At first, the relationship was built slowly and carefully. The two of you started as friends, texting each other regularly and trying your best to discover all of the intimate details about each other. Then, when you guys built up enough courage, you started going on small dates; movie nights, dinner dates, Sunday afternoon drives… you wanted to do anything and everything with him. He quickly became your closest friend and your most trusted confidant. You spent so much time together that it was almost strange not being in the same place. Of course, eventually, his time to tour came around, and it threw your life so violently off track that it was nearly hard to function.

When he first told you, you tried to force a smile and pretend all was well, but he knew you better than that. He could see the sadness in your eyes, and the apprehension. You were both so head over heels for each other that it made it hard to think of anything else. All of the late night phone calls and evenings spent immersed in each other had finally resulted in something much bigger. You were in love, and you were terrified for him to leave you. You feared that once he was gone, he would find someone more exciting, more interesting. Little did you know, he was afraid of all the same things.

So, as you sat in his living room while he packed up the last of his things, he dropped a sly comment about you taking care of his place while he was gone, coming over and watering his plants, and even staying the night if you missed him too much. It was his indirect way of giving you a key to his house, and in turn, his heart. He slipped the spare key from his pocket, handing it over and giving you a smile. Before he went to the airport, you found yourselves confessing your hearts and kissing with tears running down your face. He asked you to be his girlfriend before he ever got on the plane.

Every night, when he was holed up in a different hotel room, he was calling you with excitement, unable to wait to tell you all about his day. It was a different kind of feeling, falling in love with someone without anything other than emotional connection. After a year of touring and only being home with you for a few days at a time, he was growing restless and more eager to be with you again. By the time he got home from traveling the world, he missed you so much that he rarely let you leave his side. Within a few months, your belongings were packed up and ready to be taken to his house, and not long after that, it was no longer just Jake’s house, it was yours, too.

When the two of you were together, it grew increasingly more difficult to navigate your lack of sexual experience. He was very affectionate, his hands always on you and kissing you whenever he could. You felt that he was getting frustrated with your rejections, and it forced you into a corner. You had to open up to him, to tell him the truth and that your avoidance was not because of him at all. You sat him down not long after the two of you moved in together, knowing that you should have confessed to him sooner, and fearful that it would change the way he viewed you.

But, almost as if Jake was put on the earth to challenge every single previous idea you had about men, he smiled and held you, expressing his gratitude that you were comfortable enough to share such things with him. He fell in love with you without sex, and that did not change anything for him. You were worth much more to him than that, and he wanted to make sure you knew it. He thanked you for telling him, and he apologized if he ever made you uncomfortable with his actions before your discussion. He promised that he would never push you, and you could take as much time as you needed to open up and explore that with him.

He was a dream come true, and after a few months, you could easily see that he was determined to stay true to his word. He didn’t once make you feel bad for wanting to wait a little longer, and he never pushed you to do anything that made you uncomfortable. Soon after, you began to realize that Jake truly was the one for you, and that all of your previous fears were quickly becoming obsolete. He did not want you for sex; he loved you for your heart, and when you were ready, he would love you for everything else, too.

Even while you found yourself amidst heated make out sessions, and you could feel how much he wanted you, he never pushed you further. When you laid in bed, and he inevitably found his hands becoming more and more curious, he stopped himself before you even had to say anything. He looked the other way when you were getting changed, and even closed his eyes and left the room if he accidentally walked in on you in an awkward position. He was the epitome of patience and kindness, and the longer you watched him respect you in such a way, the harder you fell for him.

You made sure to thank him often, expressing your appreciation for his patience and his willingness to wait. He valued you so highly, and your comfort was always his top priority. Sometimes, you feared that if you made him wait too long, he would begin to lose interest, but every day he proved to you that he was in it for the long haul. He wanted to be with you, and it did not matter in which way. He loved you, and if waiting made you most comfortable, then he would wait forever for you. It quickly became apparent to you that he was the love of your life, and the prospect of sharing that part of you became more enticing every single day.

It was not like you didn’t want to have sex with Jake; if anything, you wanted it so badly that it made it hard to think of anything else sometimes. Once the fear faded away, it was replaced with awkwardness and uncertainty on the topic. You feared that because of your lack of experience, it would be disappointing for him. There were so many questions that you did not know the answer to, and they plagued you almost every time you thought about it. What if he thought you were stupid because you didn't know what you were doing? What if he wasn’t interested in you once you took your clothes off? What if you did nothing but embarrass yourself?

It was all too much sometimes, and you knew the best way to deal with it was to talk to him, but the topic was daunting for you, and it was embarrassing. It was something you knew little about, and it made you feel silly and even a little naïve. You didn’t know what you liked, and you certainly didn’t know how to do anything that he liked. You knew that with the patience that Jake had shown you, he would be nothing but kind in bed, and he would certainly help you figure everything out, but it was so scary to think about, and it was easier for you to avoid it. You were afraid of looking dumb, and the fear hindered you more than anything else. In the time you spent with him, it became more clear that Jake was what you’d been waiting for the whole time, but now you were facing a whole new challenge; being vulnerable enough to let him show you the ropes.

Every so often, curiosity got the best of you, and you let your eyes linger on him a little too long when he was shirtless, and an unfamiliar feeling would blossom in your stomach. He would move a certain way, or his hand would move a little too far up your thigh, and you would be plagued with temptation to touch him. He would wear certain clothes that would drive you crazy when you looked at him for long enough, and it was becoming harder to ignore every single day. He was what you wanted, and it was so difficult to feel that way when you felt paralyzed at the thought of progressing any further. Jake was driving you crazy, and he wasn’t even doing it intentionally; he was just existing, and that was enough to push you closer and closer to the edge.

Like when he would stretch, and a peek of his tanned stomach would be visible, showing you his treasure trail and a slight hint of a v-line, or when he was sleeping so soundly and turned on to his side to pull you to his chest. The feeling of his body against yours was intense, and the longer he held you to him, he more turned on he would get. An ache would begin between your legs as he slept soundly behind you, his erection pressing into your ass. He wouldn’t even realize it, but he would pull you closer to relieve the ache and give him some much needed friction. You would let it play out; you enjoyed it so much, but you could not seem to voice that to him while he was awake. When he woke and realized the extent of his actions, he apologized profusely while you continued to imagine what it would be like if he kept going, pulling your shorts down just enough to give himself access to you.

You imagined what it would feel like as he rested himself against your entrance, speaking softly in your ear as he talked you through it. How he would put his fingers in his mouth, collecting enough spit to lubricate them before his hand drifted between your thighs. You wondered what it would feel like for his fingers to be tracing around your clit instead of your own, how excited he would be just from touching you alone. Your skin tingled at the thought of his rough fingertips gently working at you as he whispered encouragement in your ear, eventually working you up enough to add his cock to you, too. The picture of him being inside you was too much to bear, and just the thought of feeling so close to him was intoxicating. You had to force a smile on your face while apologized, assuring him you were alright while you thought of all of the filthy things that he could be doing to you. You wanted it so bad, but when you finally found enough courage to ask that of him, the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

When he would leave for errands, or when he would go to work in the mornings, you would think back on the incidents that caused the flutter in your belly. The longer you focused on it, the more uncomfortable you became. You would work yourself up to the point of no return, and you would have to relieve yourself before Jake got back. In your shared bed, you would let your hand slip between your legs as you thought of all of the things Jake did to you without even knowing it. It wouldn’t take long until you were a mess, muttering his name as you reached a climax that was stronger than any you’d ever felt before.

It was almost routine, now. You were so needy that every time Jake stepped out for a moment, you would have to take the time and get yourself off. It was the only way you could keep up with the temptations without having to open up to him about it. He would come home, and you would smile and kiss him as if your fingers hadn’t just been playing with your own cunt while you imagined it was him doing it, instead.

This small ritual was exactly what happened on that specific day; you had grown so comfortable with it that when Jake left for the studio in the morning, you couldn’t wait to finish your household chores so you could cut straight to the point. You kissed him goodbye, wishing him a good day, and watched as he walked to his car, guitar case in his hand as he blew a kiss to you over his shoulder. The jeans he was wearing were tight, hugging every inch of his legs and showcasing every small detail to you. The denim sat nicely over his ass, and unfortunately for you, every other part of him that you tried your best not to think about. His shirt was old, the button up beginning to fray at the sleeves and the fabric becoming thin and worn. He had the last two buttons done, but left the top open as always. The soft, tanned skin of his chest made your mouth water and your stomach twist with desire. You did not know how much longer you could hold yourself back.

He got in his car and drove away, but you stayed at the door, watching the now empty space for a moment longer while you collected your thoughts. You were so worked up that your cheeks were burning and your heart was thudding dramatically against your chest. You forced yourself to shower, taking some extra time to shave and really make yourself feel good. You did the dishes, and you grabbed something to eat, and you wondered if you might be able to curb the urge that day. Once you were away from him and busy with other things, the need seemed so much smaller.

As you sat down to eat, you knew that it was absolutely impossible to ignore such a feeling, because the minute your mind was left without a distraction, Jake was the only thing it wanted to focus on. You forced your lunch into you, remembering that Jake said his day at the studio might be a little longer than the last. You had ample time to really draw the whole experience out, so that’s what you did. When you made it to your bedroom, you knew you had about an hour until he was home again. You took off your clothes, put on some music, only quietly so you could hear if the front door opened, you turned off the lights, and you laid on his side of the bed. You closed your eyes, breathing slowly as you remembered the morning the two of you spent together. It started sweet, like always.

You woke up with Jake next to you, the scent of his shampoo lingering in the sheets as the soft sounds of his snores filled your ears. You looked back over your shoulder at him, smiling as you admired the peaceful expression on his face. He was shirtless, as always, only a pair of boxers on as the comforter covered up his lower half. You watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, and his stomach, too. You knew you shouldn’t have looked for so long, because the longer you stared, the more curious you became. You reached out, settling your hand on his stomach gently, a little lower than you usually would. You let your fingers drift over the skin, sending a light tickle through him. He tensed slightly at the feeling, but did not wake. After a few seconds, he woke up just enough to realize it was you touching him.

He moved onto his side, draping an arm over your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Every morning went the same, and you looked forward to it every day. He guided you into him, resting your back against his bare chest. His warmth was comforting, and you wished to live in the moment forever. His hand that was wrapped around you drifted underneath your shirt, resting on your stomach as he brought you even closer to him. The curve of your ass fit perfectly against his hips and his nose was brushing against your shoulder. His head was buried in the crook of your neck as he placed a gentle kiss on it. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine and you closed your eyes. He seemed more awake than he usually was, but not completely aware.

You brought your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his own. Once you felt like he’d drifted off to sleep again, you guided his hand upwards even further, so it was resting on your rib cage just below your breast. You wanted to take it further, but instead, you pushed your ass back into him a little. In his sleepy state, the small feeling prompted a physical reaction. His breathing quickened, but he didn’t move any further. For a moment, you had to question if he was awake too, or if he was stuck in a dream about the exact position you were laying in. His rough fingertips against your skin was intoxicating, and you needed more, but you were too afraid to wake him and tell him so.

You moved your hips against him again, feeling his fingers tighten against you. His knuckles brushed against the underside of your breast, and even in a sleeping state, he could recognize that feeling from anywhere. On his own, he moved his hand up further, cupping it in his palm as his head nuzzled further into your neck. Your breath caught in your throat and that familiar feeling began to pulse in the pit of your stomach. His grip grew stronger, and for a moment, you really did believe that he was awake. His thumb drifted over your hardened nipple, causing your hips to move against him again.

You could feel his erection growing against you, becoming more noticeable as each second passed. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the ache begin to make itself known. Your breathing sped, and your heart pounded against your chest. His hand stayed on your chest for only a moment until a small noise escaped him, his own need showing even while he was asleep. His hand traveled down your body, landing on your hip as he pulled you back on him. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to keep yourself quiet. You bit down on your lip, scared to make a sound in case he woke and the moment ended.

His fingers held you tightly as he pulled you back on to him, his cock painfully hard as his hips moved against your ass. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable, and you could only imagine that he was feeling the same type of desperation amidst his dreams. Then, as your heart raced, you heard him whisper your name so delicately that a shiver ran down your spine. He wasn’t just dreaming of sex; he was dreaming of you.

Instead of focusing on what came after, when he woke up with embarrassment written in his features and apologies on his tongue, you pretended what it would be like if you had the courage to tell him to keep going. As you thought of it, you let your hand slip between your thighs. You were already aching for relief, your arousal pooling and showing you just how bad you needed him. You let your middle finger begin tracing slow circles around your clit as your mind clung to thoughts of Jake and just how much you wanted him to take care of you.

You imagined his dark eyes growing heavy as he woke, apologizing being the last thing on his mind. You imagined the desperation in his movement as his fingers dipped below your shorts, moving back from you only for long enough to pull them down over your ass. You thought about how good it would feel to have his hand drift to your cunt, relieving the ache that he’d become so good at causing. You didn’t want him to ask if it was okay, or for any type of permission. You wanted him to have you however he wanted, and you would just be thankful that he was giving you anything at all.

“How does that feel, Angel?” He asked, his voice raspy and rough from sleep as his fingers trace around your aching clit. “Does that feel good? Is this what you want?”

“F-fuck, yes, Jake.” You whine, moving your hips forward to meet his hand, so needy and he barely even touched you yet.

“Just want me to take care of you, baby? Need me to show you how good I can make you feel?” His normally sweet and doting personality was gone, replaced with an animalistic desire after waiting so long to have you. You could feel his cock pressing into your ass, still aching to be touched. He needed you so bad that it was impossible to hide it. “You know I’ll always take care of you, sweet girl… give you anything you want.”

“Y-you, Jake. I want you.” You pleaded, feeling yourself clench around nothing. You wanted him so badly, and you weren’t sure if you could wait any longer.

“You want me, sweetheart?” He crooned, the sound of your desperation sending a shiver down his spine. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes please,” you plead, feeling your stomach twist with pleasure.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he whispered, his tone resembling a growl. He drew his hand from you, pulling his boxers down just enough to free himself. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting on it and stroking himself for a few moments. He moved his hips forward, resting the tip of his cock against your entrance. “How bad do you want it, sweetheart.” His low tone settled deep in your bones, making your entire body quiver.

“So bad, Jake. I need you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath stuck in your throat as you feel him push inside of you.

You worked yourself up to the point of absolute desperation. You felt like you were on the brink of insanity, your skin was on fire and your mind was a mess with thoughts of the boy you were so in love with. You were so deep in the fantasy that you could feel it, as if he was in front of you, touching you and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You were sweating, your heart racing and your stomach twisted into knots. You needed to let go, but more than that, you needed him.

Little to your knowledge, Jake was unlocking the front door, a sneaky smile on his face as a bouquet of flowers was held tightly in his hand. He’d been planning this all week; coming home from the studio early to surprise you, just to see the look on your face. He’d been working more often than usual as of late, and he felt like he wasn’t spending enough time with you. He’d specifically told you he’d be later than he actually would be, just so he wouldn’t ruin the element of shock. When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he expected to be greeted by you soon after. His confusion grew as he looked to the kitchen and did not see you there. Next, he checked the living room, wondering if you were curled up on the couch reading a book.

When he couldn’t find you there, he figured the only other place you would be is the bedroom. Your car was outside, and you hadn’t mentioned having to run any errands that day. He took to the stairs, wondering if you decided to take a nap or watch a movie in bed. As he climbed to the top of the stairs, he noticed the soft drift of music through the door. He smiled to himself, knowing he would find you wrapped up in blankets and dozing away the day. He could curl up next to you, holding you close while you slept, and maybe even fall asleep beside you. As he reached the door, he was about to reach out and turn the knob, but he froze in his tracks.

An unfamiliar, incredibly enticing sound reached his ears. It was muffled, barely heard over the speaker and through the closed door, but he caught it. Instead of interrupting, he waited and listened, wondering if his ears were deceiving him. He moved his head closer to the door, nearly pressing his ear against the hollow wood as he strained to hear, trying to piece together the situation.

You were so lost in your own little world that you did not hear the door open downstairs, nor did you hear his footsteps in the hallway. You were so close to an orgasm that not much could distract you from it. Your eyes were shut, your breathing labored as you pictured how softly his hands would drift over the curves of your hips, and how intoxicating his tongue on your skin would feel. You thought of the sweet words rolling off his tongue, the imaginary praise and encouragement driving you even closer to a climax. He would be so sweet, so attentive and caring, and you knew he’d make you feel better than you ever had before. You couldn’t help it, the moans falling from your lips were obscene and his name was delicately mixed within them as if he was in there with you, causing the pleasure himself.

He listened carefully, his cheeks flushing with pleasure at the sound of pleasure stuck on your lips. Desire filled him, running all the way from his throat down to his stomach. It made his chest burn and his skin tingle with excitement. In an instant, he’d forgotten about the romantic gesture and the flowers in his hand; he was only focused on wanting to be the reason those sounds were laced around your tongue. He didn’t want to interrupt, and he feared that if he opened the door, he would embarrass you to death. He worried about overstepping, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but the sounds were so beautiful that it made his head spin. He tried to force himself to stop listening, fearing he was breaching your trust and invading your privacy, but he couldn’t will himself to walk away.

He was growing increasingly frustrated as he stood and listened, his heart pounding against his chest and his whole body aching with desire. He could feel himself growing more turned on, his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans as his own desperation became stronger. He palmed himself through the fabric, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He knew he should walk away, leave you alone to finish up and go take care of his own problem. It was the right thing to do, and he knew that, but the idea of you touching yourself, possibly to the thought of him, was so enticing.

Just as he thought he could find the strength to walk away, he heard the sound, so gentle and loving that he could not withstand it any longer.

“Oh god, Jake.” You whined, the sound floating through the door and settling deep in his chest. “Jake…”

It was too much for him. His hand shot out, clasping around the doorknob as he gently pushed it open. The light flooded the room, illuminating you laying so intimately on his side of the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, blotchy with red patches. A thin layer of sweat had formed over your body, only making you all the more beautiful to him. Your lips were parted, his name still caught on your tongue as your hand was settled between your legs, working intently at your cunt. Your head turned to the side, your eyes wide with shock as you tried to process the sudden change in the situation. You were so caught up in pleasure that your hand didn’t even move away from your clit as you locked eyes with him.

Suddenly, your brain seemed to catch up with the situation, and embarrassment began to take over. You panicked, scrambling to move your hand away and cover yourself with the blanket, but he took a step closer and shook his head, speaking lowly to you.

“Don’t be shy, Angel.” He rasped, looking down over you with dark eyes. The man before you seemed to be a stranger, nothing like he was in the morning before he left, but in the best possible way. The calm, domineering tone was so different, but it was fantastic all in the same. He looked down at you, his lips curled into a slight smirk as he stood over you at the foot of the bed. The desire he’d been holding back for so long seemed to be coming to the surface. He couldn’t help himself, and a part of you was thankful for it. “Don’t stop, sweetheart. You can put on such a good show.” His eyes lingered over your face, watching you closely to see if you were uncomfortable. Instead of discomfort, you seemed curious, excited, even.

And you were. You didn’t intend for the situation to turn into this, but perhaps it was the best possible outcome. You had been so afraid to have sex with Jake, and for reasons that were completely irrelevant. He was the man you’d fallen so deeply in love with, and someone you wanted to share this part of you with, too. Him walking in on you allowed you to avoid the awkward conversations and nervous stuttering, because you were already worked up to the point of no return. This made the part you were dreading so much easier, and the look in his eye made you feel foolish for ever thinking he wouldn’t love your body just as much as he loved your heart. Something in his expression told you that he would give you all of the direction you needed if you allowed him to do so.

Slowly, you pushed the blanket away from your body, returning your hand to its earlier position. You continued holding his gaze as you brought your middle finger back to your clit, tracing slow circles while he gave you a smile of satisfaction.

“So this is what you get up to when I’m gone all day?” He asked, his tone low and gravelly. He was so overcome with lust that it was impossible to think of anything else. “As soon as I leave, you come up here and play with that pretty little cunt, without me?” His expression was stern, his jaw tense as his teeth clenched together. You could see his cock strained against his pants, and the fact that he was really standing before you rather than existing in your imagination was making the pleasure all the more intense. His words were filthy, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to scare you. You’d been fantasizing about words like that coming from his mouth since the first day you met him.

“Y-yeah,” you nod, stuttering slightly. He didn’t care, nor did he notice, anyway. Your embarrassment was growing smaller with every passing second, and the desire in his eyes made the whole thing seem less terrifying. To see him want you so badly made your stomach twist into knots. He gave you a small smile at the word, happy to see that you weren’t shutting him out. The small expression was enough encouragement for you to keep going.

“Do you think of me, Angel?” He asked, his gaze flickering down to your hand, working carefully to build yourself back up to an orgasm. “Do you wish that I was here doing it, instead?” He asked, reaching one hand down to his cock, adjusting himself in his pants to make it more comfortable while he watched. Your eyes were fixated on his hand, cheeks red at the thought. You wanted to see more, but you weren’t sure what to do next. You were so out of your comfort zone, but something about being able to do it with Jake made it all the more easier. “Come on, baby. Talk to me.” His voice was softer, now, showing you that he was willing to help you through it.

“I-I do,” you nod, catching his eye again. Somewhere in his pupil, he was trying to tell you that it was okay, and you believed it.

“You want to show me what you do when I’m not here?” He asked, gauging your comfort level with his questions.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathe, nodding again. He gave you another smile, licking his lips slightly. To see him look at you in such a way was almost too much to resist. Instead of jumping straight into it, you let him talk you through it, slowly and steadily.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Just like that.” He said, watching as your hand worked at your cunt. “Then, once you finish, maybe I can show you what it’s like when someone else does it for you.” He posed it like a statement, but he was asking for permission. He needed to touch you so badly, but only if you wanted him to.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, excited at the thought. You were already so close to the edge, spending the last half an hour working yourself up to a climax. The intrusion slowed down your progress, but definitely did not stop it completely. As you finger drifted over your clit, your stomach was burning with the familiar feeling, but it seemed so much more intense than before now that he was watching you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you could feel the pull of pleasure again, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breathing.

“That’s it, baby. Doing such a good job for me.” He said, but it was strained. He wanted to be the one driving you crazy, and it was nearly torture having to watch you and not touch you. You try to hold your moans back, scared to embarrass yourself, but he thought that your state was all but shameful. He thought you were gorgeous, and he felt so lucky to be able to see you like this at all. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, sweet girl.” He pleaded, taking a step closer to the bed. “Don’t be shy with me.” At his permission, your lips parted and a soft moan filled the air. The sound alone nearly drove him to insanity. He watched you carefully, noticing as the muscles in your stomach tensed with every wave of pleasure. He wanted to remember the way you looked in that moment forever.

You were so close to an orgasm, and the desperation was evident in your movements and your voice. He needed it like the starving needed food, and he couldn’t wait much longer. He leaned down over you on the bed, letting his hand drift over your exposed thigh, the touch light but electric.

“Fuck, Jake.” You expressed your thoughts, feeling the pleasure pulsing under your skin and throughout your entire body.

“Look at me, baby.” He said, wanting you to open your eyes. You did as he said, catching the warm brown of his irises and feeling the warmth flood you. Your breath caught in your throat, and your muscles constricted. You were so close, and him looking at you in such a way made it all the more intense. “Let go,” he hummed, giving you a smile. His eyes were heavy and his chest was heaving with every breath. “Come for me, Angel.” And you did, your limbs trembling as the pleasure took hold. You’d never felt like that in your entire life, and it was so intense that it made your head spin and your chest burn. You didn’t think it was possible to feel such a way, but as you looked into Jake’s eyes, you knew it was all because of him. “That’s my girl.” He sighed, leaning down and pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh.

The feeling made you melt into his touch, his lips so delicate against your warm skin. You wanted more; suddenly, your own hand wasn’t enough. You needed him to do it for you, to feel what it was like when he touched you. You reached down, cupping his cheek in your hand as you let your thumb drift over his cheek. He hummed against you, still focused on the feeling of your thigh against his mouth. The longer he left them there, kissing a trail upwards, the sloppier he became. He sucked light marks into the delicate skin as his hand found your hip, pulling you down on the mattress towards him. He wanted you to feel admired, to know how strongly he felt for you. He wanted you to know that the situation did not have to be scary, and he only wanted to make you feel good. He was there for you, and his pleasure came second to all of your needs.

You watched him as he did all he could to showcase his admiration. You were still aching to be touched, the orgasm you had given yourself long gone and barely enough to keep you satisfied. You needed to feel him, you needed him to bring you to such pleasure, and you couldn’t believe you waited so long to feel him like this.

“Are you okay with this, baby?” He asked, looking up to you with his eyes nearly closed from the weight of lust in his stare.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “I’m… I'm okay.”

“You tell me if you need me or want me to stop, okay?” He ordered, settling on his stomach between your legs. “Even if you just want me to slow down… I need you to tell me, sweetheart. Can you do that?” You hummed a response of agreement, but he didn’t move any further. “I need to hear the words, honey.”

“I will, Jake. I promise.” He gave you a soft smile, looking over your face to search for any discomfort. When he saw only excitement, he brought his own hand between your legs. Carefully, he brought his fingers to you, gathering your arousal on his fingers before bringing them to your clit. The feeling was foreign, but as soon as his fingers landed on the sensitive bundle of nerves, the unfamiliarity quickly became obsolete. His rough, calloused fingertips moved slowly over you as his eyes stayed on your face. It was immediately pleasant, way more so than your own hands doing the work.

“How’s that, Angel?” He hummed, his eyes flickering down to his hand that was working at you. His mouth watered from the sight, but he held himself back from going any further until you were comfortable.

“S-so good.” You whined, looking down at his face. The sight of his eyes fixated on your cunt made your stomach burn with desire. All of the fear you felt before was gone; you should have known better than to think Jake would view you as anything other than gorgeous.

“You want me to keep going?” He asked, looking back up at you.

“Yes, please.” You breathed, nodding at him. He gave you a smile, adding a little more pressure to his thumb. The sensation caused you to move your hips down on his hand, searching for more. He kept the pace for a moment, before sliding his thumb in place of his middle finger. He rested his middle and index finger against your entrance, waiting to see your reaction before doing anything else.

“Is this okay?”

“G-god, yes.” You nodded, still sensitive from your first orgasm. Everything he was doing felt fantastic, and you never wanted him to stop. Before going any further, he leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from his lips to his fingers, making sure that it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for you. You watched, feeling a flutter of emotion rush to your core at the sight. He gave you a small smirk, noticing the reaction. Slowly, he added one finger first, wanting you to grow comfortable with the feeling before going any further. Once he knew you were alright, he added a second.

“There you go, beautiful.” He smiled, noticing your eyebrows furrow with pleasure as a moan fell from your lips. Gently, he pumped his fingers into you a few times, spitting on his hand once again to lubricate them further. “God, you have no idea how much I thought about doing this.” He muttered, more to himself than you.

“Y-you… you think about this?” You asked, your cheeks turning red at the thought.

“Think about it?” He nearly scoffed. “Baby, I dream about it.” He corrected, curling his fingers upwards slightly as his thumb brushed over your clit. You let out a sharp breath, the feeling unfamiliar but incredibly pleasant. “I think about making you feel good, and about how pretty I knew you would look while you cum…” he trailed off, driving himself crazy at his own words. “About how good you’d taste, and how good you’d feel…” he cut himself off, realizing he might be too obscene for you at the moment. You looked down at him, almost as if you were pleading with him to keep going. The knowledge that he thought about you the same way you thought about him made your heart skip a beat. “How good you’d feel wrapped around my cock.” He finished, stronger and more confident. He could feel your walls clench around his finger at the sound of his words.

“I think about you, too, Jake.” You confessed, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back on the pillow. The pleasure was more intense than anything you’d felt before, and his words were making it all the more satisfying.

“Yeah? You think about me touching you like this?” He paused his thoughts, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Such a dirty little thing.” He teased, smiling up at your blushed face. “I love it.” He made sure that you knew that more than anything else. “How does this feel, gorgeous?”

“It feels so good, Jake.” You assure him, hoping that he won’t stop.

“Can I try something?” He asks, leaning down and pressing a few more kisses into your thighs.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You nod, unsure of what he had in mind, but trusting him more than anything.

“M’gonna use my mouth, okay?” He said, scanning your face. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, excited at the prospect.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay Angel?”

“Okay.” You nod, your eyes fixated on him as he moved closer to your heat. He moved his thumb from your clit, but you barely have time to mourn the loss before his mouth was on you and his tongue was doing the work, instead. “Oh, fuck.” You whine, reaching down and tangling your hand in his hair. The feeling was more intense, and definitely more powerful. The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue was like heaven, and so unlike anything you’d felt before. He barely started and you could feel your walls fluttering against his fingers. You were bordering another orgasm, and you weren’t sure how much you could take before you let go.

His tongue moved carefully, but with intent. It drifted over your clit, savoring any bit of arousal still left on you. His eyes were closed as his hips moved down on the mattress, the friction barely relieving the ache of his cock, but making it a little more bearable. Your breathing was shallow, and the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair was driving him crazy. He pumped his fingers into you as his tongue worked at you, curling his fingers slightly every time he re-entered. The different types of stimulation was not overwhelming, but just enough as they worked together to push you to the edge.

“Fuck, Jake.” You whined. He hummed against you, showing you how much he was enjoying the sound. The vibration ran through you, tightening the knot in your stomach. You were so close, and your skin was tingling with pleasure. “I think… think m’gonna cum, baby.” You warned. He did not pull away, instead he made his movements more pronounced, needing it more than he needed anything more in his entire life. Your mind was flooded with desire for him, and you could only whimper his name.

He was making you feel better than you ever had before, and you were so in love with him at that moment. You couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather be doing this with, and you felt so comfortable and loved. He adored you, and he was coaxing you so gently to a climax that it was hard to feel any fear or anxiety about it. He was so gentle and kind, his touch soft and his words sweet. He wanted you to get the most out of it, and more than anything, he wanted to make your first time special. He waited so long for this moment, and now that it was here, he was doing everything in his power to make sure you enjoyed it.

The orgasm washed over you hard, making your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Your fingers tightened around the stands of his hair, and you moaned his name as the pleasure took over. The obscenities falling from your lips painted the walls, burying the memory in the room until the end of time. You felt so good that you forgot how to breathe, and your head felt light. As the intensity died down and you relaxed against him, he began to taper his movements off until he came to a complete stop. As you caught your breath, he pulled back from you and looked up at your face. His eyes were heavy, and lust was hanging thick in the air. He needed you, and he did not have to say it aloud; you could feel it.

As he straightened up, his chin was glistening in the dim light, your orgasm lingering on his skin to remind you of the moment. “How was that, beautiful?” He asked, his voice husky. Your mind was still hazy as you admired his face, watching as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

“So, so good, baby.” You sighed, giving him a lazy smile.

“You want to keep going?” He asked, standing from the bed. You admired him, shirtless and standing over you. Your head was swimming with joy and your skin was ablaze with desire for him. You made it this far, and you wanted to go all the way. You were more than ready to take the step with him, especially after he was so caring and loving with you just moments before.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, giving him a smile. He returned the expression, slowly undoing his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops. His discarded it on the floor, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. You felt like you were holding your breath as you waited for him to undress, feeling excitement begin to build within you. He slipped out of his jeans, kicking them to the side. Then, he looked at you, making sure you were okay before he took off his boxers. He saw the admiration in your eyes, and it made his stomach flutter with adoration.

“You want me, sweet girl?” He whispered, his jaw tense as he watched you look at him in wonder.

“Yes, please.” You nod, waiting for him to advance further. He gave you a soft smile, pulling off his boxers and throwing them to the side. When he straightened up, your breath caught in your throat. He was stunning. The discreet toned muscles in his abdomen that were so often hidden by clothes took your breath away. The soft v-line leaning down from his hips was delicious, and you could feel the arousal begin to grow once more. When he stepped closer, the light seemed to shine on him a little more. You could see all of him, and he was breathtaking.

His cock was painfully hard, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum, and it was so enticing. Seeing all of him was something so special, and you almost regretted not doing it sooner. He kneeled before you on the bed, settling between your legs as he smiled down at you. “Hi, gorgeous.” He hummed, his expression sweet and his eyes showing you nothing but love.

“Hi,” you grinned, feeling excitement overtake all of the anxiety. He reached to the other side of the bed, grabbing a pillow.

“Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.” He said. You did as he told you, and he slid the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a little more comfortable.” He promised, leaning down and bracing his arm beside your head. He gave you a stupid smile that told you how enthusiastic he was. You couldn’t help but smile back, finding his joy infectious. He leaned a little further down, capturing you in a kiss. You melted into the feeling, so relieved at the comfortable and familiar feeling after so many new sensations. You closed your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand to hold him to you. You wanted to live in the moment with him forever.

He didn’t rush you, kissing you softly for as long as you needed. It was messy, but it was beautiful. His teeth pulled your bottom lip between them, teasing you slightly. You smiled against him, finding the playfulness soothing. “I love you, Jake.” You mumble against his lips.

“I love you so much, Angel.” He whispers, looking down over your face. “I think you’re the most beautiful thing in the whole world, you know that right?” Your cheeks burn red, but you can’t hold back your smile. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you.” You sigh, your chest aching with the amount of love you have for him.

“Thank you for trusting me, y/n.” His voice is full of emotion now. The lust took the back burner, second to his love and appreciation for you.

“Thank you for being someone I can trust.” He smiled at your words, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more.

“Are you ready? If not, I can wait.” He assured you.

“I am.” You promised. “I’m ready.” He gave you another kiss, biting back another smile. He felt giddy with you, like it was his first time again, too. The strength in which he felt for you nearly brought him to his knees. He leaned back, looking down over your body with a look on his eyes you weren’t sure he’d ever seen before. It was so full of emotion that it made your stomach twist into knots. He spit into his hand, stroking himself before lining himself up with your entrance. He looked to you for approval, and you gave a slight nod of your head.

“It might be a little uncomfortable, so just tell me if it is, okay? Just want you to feel good, baby.”

“I will.” His concern with your pleasure was driving you crazy. He guided your legs around him and waited for a moment, giving you the chance to change your mind. When you said nothing, he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

The feeling was different, but not unpleasant. It took a moment to get used to it as he fully buried himself in you. He paused before moving any further, looking to see if you were okay. You couldn’t help but notice how full you felt, how well he fit with you, and how right it felt. You caught his eye, letting out a little sigh of satisfaction. The small sound nearly pushed him over the edge as he sat, completely still inside of you. His cock twitched slightly, the knowledge that you were enjoying him sending him feral.

“You want to wait, or do you want me to keep going?”

“Keep going, please.” You breathed, wanting more. He gave you a small smile, moving his hips ever so slightly. You tended slightly, adjusting to the feeling, but as he continued, it began to grow more comfortable. Soon after, prickles of pleasure started to ignite your skin. “Oh, Jake.” You sigh, letting your head fall back on the pillow. “That feels… so good.” His jaw clenched at your words, thrilled at your enjoyment.

“Yeah? You like it, baby?” He asked, reaching down and letting his fingers dust over your bare stomach. They trailed all the way to your chest as he cupped your breast in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb toyed with your nipple, the small sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

“I do,” you breathe, nodding your head.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered to himself. “You feel so fucking good, angel. Doing so good for me.” Your walls clenched around him as he spoke, drawing him in further. He wasn’t moving very fast, but the feeling was more than enough. It was exactly what you’d been waiting for, even if you didn’t realize it before. Slowly, he began to pick up the pace, unable to hold himself back any longer. “Tell me if you need me to slow down, baby.”

“I will,” you moaned, feeling the intensity begin to build in your belly again. “God, Jake. F-faster, please.” You pleaded. He let out a groan, resembling more of a growl than anything else. He grabbed your hips, pulling you down towards him a little further. His thrusts sped, and he put a little more force behind his movements. He looked down, watching how your bodies fit together, feeling a whole new sense of desire as your hips met his with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He groaned, leaning down and pulling you into a kiss. He’d waited so long to feel you like this, and he was afraid he might not be able to hold himself back.

“Fuck, Jake.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. His hands on your hips felt so good, his fingers burning into you in the most intoxicating way. You felt better than you ever did before, and you never wanted to stop feeling that way. He was so enchanting, and everything he was doing was euphoric. You felt like you were melting into him, both of you becoming one as the fire burned in your hearts.

“Need you to cum for me one more time, angel. Just one more.” He pleaded, pulling you down on him as he thrusted into you. The angle he was hitting was intoxicating, pulling you in further with every move of his hips. His lips met your again in a heated kiss, your chests heaving as the intensity continued to consume you. Your stomach was twisted in knots and your forehead was glistening with sweat. Your whole body felt like it was ablaze with pleasure, and you needed more than he could give.

He pulled back from you, his hips still keeping a steady pace as his hand reached between you, circling around your clit once again. The second sensation to hold with a fervent appetite, consuming you entirely and making it impossible to think of anything else. His fingers on you and his cock filling you up was pushing you to euphoria, and your vision began to blur. Your mind was hazy as you tried to focus on his face, wondering how you got so lucky to be with someone so beautiful.

“You think you can give me one more, beautiful?” He asked, his voice shaking as he spoke. He was holding himself back to make sure you were pleased, but the idea of him being such a mess for you was driving you even closer to insanity. The most pleasurable part of the whole thing was knowing how good he felt, and how much he loved pleasing you.

“Y-yeah,” you managed a nod, looking up at him with desperate eyes. Your muscles were tightening as you tensed, preparing for the wave of pleasure about to wash over you. The burning in the pit of your stomach was familiar now, and you knew that he was the only one who knew how to get you there.

“Cum for me, baby.” He said, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with precision. Your legs locked around him began to tremble, and your breathing was ragged. You were so close, and you needed it. More than that, you needed him to cum at the same time.

“Cum with me, please.” You pleaded, admiring the look of pleasure twisting his expression. He let out a groan at your words, his eyebrows knitting together as his hair hung down over his face. You’d never seen Jake look so ethereal before, and it was driving you mad.

“That’s what you want, angel? That will make you happy?”

“Please, Jake.” You said, reaching up and clasping your fingers around his bicep.

“Anything for my girl,” he muttered, his head falling back as he let out a string of curses. He even made the obscenities sound beautiful. You watched as the columns of his neck tightened and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, sweat dripping delicately down across his skin. Strands of hair stuck to the damp skin, framing him in a picture you wished to burn into your mind until the end of time.

The climax hit you hard, and you clenched around him, crying his name as you felt the pleasure fill you completely. He didn’t have time to nurture you through it, because at the same time, his orgasm washed over him. As you rode out the high, his hips stuttered and a breathy moan fell from his lips. He spilled his release inside of you, the feeling so addicting that it forced you into another wave of pleasure. Heavy breathing was the only sound in the room, and after the intensity began to fade, Jake leaned down and wrapped you in his arms. Without withdrawing from you, he turned on his back and pulled you on top of him. With a giggle, you landed comfortably in his arms with a smile so wide it made your cheeks ache.

You rested your head on his chest, your skin still tingling with the ghost of your orgasm. You placed a kiss to the skin, feeling his heart thud against his ribcage. His hand trailed down your back, his fingers tickling you slightly as he traced shapes into your skin. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you didn’t need to; the whole world felt perfect.

“How was that, angel?” He asked, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear. You grinned down at him, unable to put your thoughts into words. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great, Jake.” You assured him, leaning into the touch of his hand.

“You’re not hurt, are you? I wasn’t too rough?” His hand shot to your hip as he looked down, trying to see if he left any marks on you. He was panicking, worried that he hadn’t taken good enough care of you. The last thing he wanted was for you to be in pain.

“It was perfect, my love. It was better than I could have ever imagined.” You promised, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips. He relaxed against you, feeling better at the sound of your words.

“So… it was good? You… you liked it?” He said, his own nerves getting the best of him. You could feel him start to go soft inside of you, but neither of you cared to move. You laid together, smiling in bliss at the moment.

“It was phenomenal… I had a fantastic time.” You said, blushing slightly. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, beautiful.” He pulled your head down so he could place a kiss to your forehead. “It was my pleasure.”

“I do, though. Thank you for being patient, and thank you for caring enough to wait it out. And… thank you for making my first time so special. I’ve always been kind of… afraid, I guess, and you made it so easy.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you, angel. You’re my biggest priority, and I just want to make sure you’re happy and comfortable, and I want you to have a good time.”

“I had such a good time.” You smiled, laying your head on his chest again. “Do you… you think maybe we can do it again, soon?” His grip tightened on you as he let out a small chuckle.

“Sweetheart, we can do it whenever you want. All you have to do is say the word.” He promised.

“I love you so much, Jake.” You whisper, pressing another kiss to his chest with a smile on your lips.

“You have no idea how much I love you, sweetheart.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

462 notes · View notes

whollyfree · 5 months

Text

Let's Talk

Summary – You have a hard time watching Jake be ogled, and he has a remedy to remind you what's yours.

Pairings – Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Word Count – 3.1k

Warnings – 18+ MINORS DNI!!! oral (f!receiving), face-riding, unprotected sex, dumbification, LOTS of dirty talk, cockwarming if you squint, spanking, mentions of alcohol

You had really fucking had it this time.

Was it a normal thing for Jake to be ogled? Yes! How could he not be?

It was far too easy to find yourself staring at him; so you truly couldn’t blame anyone else for doing so. With an air of confidence, he enters a room and every eye falls onto him.

He is an enigma to all (except you, of course) and it felt like damn near every girl at that godforsaken bar was on a mission to have his eyes so much as glance their way. He knows this, of course. How could he not?

But behind his mysterious, debonair exterior, he’s Jake. Your Jake. Your soft, sweet Jake who raids your pantry to make you breakfast in bed and fills your car with gas because “why do you ever let your tank run that low?! It’s not safe!” he had argued (but he still fills it up every time).

He’s your loving, tender Jake who litters you with kisses at any given moment and nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck when the poor thing feels as if he isn’t getting enough of your attention. That, and he can’t stand not to be touching you in any form or fashion. He’s just like a little lovesick puppy!

And no matter how hard you try to remind yourself of these things, to be rational, you can’t help but have to bite your tongue. The jealousy eats away at you and it infuriates you to no end. You hate yourself for it.

Which is why tonight at the bar, you bit your tongue so hard you’re sure small trickles of blood had seeped their way into your mouth. Jake stood by the bar; an arm securely wrapped around your waist as he beckons the bartender over with a simple raise of his fingers.

Of course, when it’s Jake, it’s not hard to get anyone’s attention; unwanted or not. And that was abundantly clear from the blonde at the end of the bar, twirling her straw in her cocktail as she eyed your boyfriend.

Her eyes moved up and down, and you notice they became stuck on his exposed chest and silver necklaces dangling against his tanned skin. And, oh god, do you hate her for it.

Stop it. Your conscience pleads with you to (for lack of a better phrase) chill the fuck out!

Jake could tell you were a bit pouty. He knows you all too well. And just as assumed, he knew he was being eye-fucked by the blonde at the end of the bar (and one hidden away in a booth in the back, but like hell he was planning on telling you that).

Part of him hates himself for finding your jealousy so amusing. And in all honesty, if he saw a man looking at you the way that women have looked at him, he’d be raising hell.

“You okay, baby?” He grins as the two of you walk into your home after your excursion to the bar, tossing his car keys on the kitchen counter.

“Mhm.” You hum. Short and sweet. He won’t expect a thing, right?

You’re kidding yourself and you know it.

“Yeah?” He replies, crowding your space immediately from behind. He takes the curves of your hips in each of his palms, his breath tinted with the Maker’s Mark he had a glass of at the bar. Top shelf only for him, of course. “You were awfully quiet tonight. Getting shy on me all of a sudden, princess?”

You can hear the subtle teasing in his voice, and you’re sure he knows exactly what you were sulking for. But you simply answer, not ready to give yourself away too quickly. “No, just tired is all.”

“Just tired is all,” he mocks you with a low chuckle. You’re a terrible liar, always have been. “It’s cute that you think you could ever lie to me.” He adds, lips grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck – it already feels too much but not enough.

And when his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, you feel a rush of heat between your thighs, and you swear your knees may give out. How he’s able to turn you into a puddle of yourself so quickly? You’ll never know.

“Come on, princess,” he sounds, and just like that it’s over. His hands are removed from your hips and he moves in front of you, his arm outstretched to you and his body facing the stairs. “Let’s go to bed then if you’re so tired.”

You try to hide your huff of annoyance, aching to have his touch again after being subjected to watch women drool over him all night. So you decide, no, you’re not going upstairs. Your arms cross over your chest like an insolent child who didn’t get what they wanted. Stubborn and spoiled. And your act of defiance is certainly not lost on him.

“No?” He quirks up an eyebrow at you, “Is the princess suddenly not tired? Sure are moody, though. What’s that about?”

God, you hate him. You hate that he’s finding your frustration the slightest bit entertaining. He’s taunting you, dangling the carrot in your face just to see you bite back.

He huffs out a laugh at your silence. “Oh, so we don’t wanna talk now, hm? That’s alright. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Before you can even blink, you’re thrown over his shoulder like a rag doll. A surprised shriek slips out of you as he trudges up the stairs and in the direction of your bedroom. Smaller in stature he may be, but weak is not a way you would ever describe him.

“Jake!” You scold him, not having any of his shit right now. “Put me down!”

“Oh, so we are talking now?” He muses, depositing you on the neatly made bed. He hovers over you, standing at the foot of the bed where he practically threw you on it.

“How about this then, princess?” He taunts, “Since you’re suddenly in the mood to talk, I say we play a little game. You talk, I listen.”

Seems easy enough…a little too easy.

“Everything off.” There it is.

He strides over to the bed, climbing on before laying on his back. His head rests against the pillow as you continue eyeing him, slowly peeling your clothes off your body until your stark naked and sitting on your heels on the bed.

“So obedient, my pretty girl. And so fucking beautiful when you listen, aren’t you?” He coos. “Come have a seat, princess,” he beckons, still fully clothed, “talk to me.”

With a bite to the inside of your cheek, you rise from your sitting position to straddle his lap. And just as you begin to settle yourself –

“Uh-uh,” he tuts. “Not quite, baby.”

Your incredulous look makes him laugh. What else could he have wanted?

“Come on,” he encourages, placing his hands on your hips. “Up you go, princess.”

With a quick slap to your ass, he hoists you up further. Your eyes go wide and you yelp at the crack of his hand hitting your skin, your heart racing as your knees straddle either side of his head.

“Good girl,” he praises, his hands trailing up the sides of your thighs and to your hips to keep you steady. “Go on, princess. Tell me what’s got you so pouty. Wanna help.”

Considering you’re at a loss for words and can’t think straight with him eye-level with your cunt, you suddenly don’t even know why you were upset to begin with. But another swat to your ass quickly brings you back to consciousness.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, your head falling down and fingers gripping his hair. “They were staring at you…at the bar.” You manage out.

“Yeah? Who was, princess?” He’s teasing you even more now, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your clit until you choke out his name and begin tugging on the roots of his hair. He knows you can’t answer; you’re already too far gone and he’s hardly started.

But your impending fear that he would stop has you rushing out the words through uneven breaths.

“The girls at the bar,” you croak out as his lips continue pressing small kisses to your bundle of nerves. “Hated the way they looked at you. I was fucking jealous. I’m sorry.”

Pleased with your answer (even if he already knew it), he grins. And you can feel it against you before he presses one final kiss to your pearl.

“But you see, princess,” he says, smoothing his hands over your hips. “No one else gets to have this. Just because they see my face, doesn’t mean they get to fuck it like you do, do they?”

“N-no.” You reply, desperate to feel his mouth on you again.

“Good girl,” he croons. “And what they don’t know is that I get to have my face fucked by the prettiest little pussy whenever I please. Get to have your scent all over me. ‘Cause it’s yours, isn’t it, princess?”

“Yes, sir.” You peep, unable to form another word if your life depended on it.

Not only were you insanely turned on and dripping because his face was buried between your thighs, but it’s also due to how he speaks to you with such dominance and authority. He could have you on your knees (both literally and figuratively) with the snap of his fingers.

With one more praise of good girl, he dives back in, immediately sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking against it like a man starved. You feel your eyes roll back, a whining desperate mess above him. The tugging on his hair only gets tighter as he grips your hips to keep you against him.

You’re sure there will be marks, and you aren’t mad about it either. You need him tethered to you in every way possible.

He expertly licks through your folds, tongue gently prodding at your entrance as his nose brushes your clit. You can’t fight the whimper that leaves your lips, your pussy fluttering around the tip of his tongue. And when he groans at the feeling, you swear you’re done for.

“Jake,” you gasp, tightening your hold on his hair. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He hums against your cunt, flicking your arousal against your clit before sucking it past his lips once more.

“Yeah, princess? Feel that sweet little cunt fucking squeezing my tongue. That feel good? Feel good to take what’s yours?”

And before you have time to catch your breath, his tongue finds your entrance again. He wastes no time going harder, faster this time. His tongue fucks into you relentlessly, nose nudging your clit in perfect timing. It’s sloppy and wet and downright sinful.

You can hardly register when it happens, you’re so far gone, but you cum hard against his tongue. Grinding your hips against his tongue to chase the feeling for as long as your body will allow while you cry out his name like a hymn.

And he can’t get enough of it either, ravaging you and swallowing every bit he can muster until you pry yourself off of him.

You look him over, his mouth, chin, and nose glistening with remnants of you. It’s enough to stir you back up again, your overstimulation be damned. Your lips crash into his, and he’s eager to capture them with his own, maneuvering you to straddle his lap.

“Fuck, my sweet girl,” he breathes out. “Did so fucking good. Came so hard for me. Could eat that pussy until it suffocates me, I swear.”

You gasp when you feel his hardened cock through his jeans that he wore out make contact with your swollen clit.

Grinding against him, you whimper against his lips at the new feeling bubbling within your tummy. He groans, feeling the slightest bit of relief as you grind against him. With the amount of wetness you felt between your thighs even after your orgasm, you’re sure that you’re absolutely soaking the fabric.

“This what you want, baby?” He murmurs. “Want my cock? Wanna fuck what’s yours?”

“Please.” You whimper, grinding down against him with a bit more force this time before moving your hips upwards to allow him to undress.

He practically moans when he sees the wet splotch of your arousal on the crotch of his jeans. “Fuck, princess. So fucking wet for me.”

“Jake, please,” you whine, tugging at his pants in an effort to make him move faster.

“Oh, my needy little thing.” He teases, resuming pulling his pants down along with his boxers. “Just had her pussy fucked with my tongue and can’t wait for more, can you?”

You shake your head no, trying to will yourself to calm down. You don’t want him to think he has the power, even though he knows all too well that he already does.

“I know, princess.” He soothes you with his tone, tossing his pants and boxers on the floor along with your clothes.

His dick stands tall, pressed against his stomach as precome leaks from the slit on the swollen head. He gives himself two languid strokes with his fist, hissing at the feeling. “Can’t wait to have you wrapped up around me…all tight and sweet and warm- fuck, come here, baby. Take it. Take what’s yours.”

You’re quick to crawl back to him, desperate to have him inside of you as you grasp his shoulders for balance. Using one hand, you grasp him, whimpering when you feel his crown just lining up with your weeping hole.

Jake holds your waist, patiently waiting for you to sink down around him. And when you do, you could cry from how good and full you feel already. You keen as you feel the familiar and pleasurable sting that only happens when he’s this deep inside you.

“Shit,” He hisses, fighting the urge to fuck upwards into you. “Feels so good, princess. This cock is yours, baby. Everything is yours.”

And that’s more than enough to encourage you to begin riding him, rolling your hips back and forth at an even pace. You whine and mewl from above him as he holds your waist, encouraging you with each movement you make.

You’re both a complete wreck already. Jake is already so close to coming and you’d hardly started moving your hips against him.

“Whose cock is this?”

You hated when he made you talk. You could listen to him go on and on all day about nothing that truly mattered (especially in bed). But you hate having to talk as well. You feel like you were nowhere near as good at it as he is.

In hopes that he’ll somehow forget what he asked, you resume your movements and peel your eyes away, beginning to go faster in hopes that you’ll truly distract him. But that sure as hell doesn’t work.

“Uh-uh,” He scolds, using his free hand to take your chin and turn it to face him. Eye-to-eye. “Eyes on me, princess. Now tell me whose cock this is. Wanna hear you, sweet girl. Tell me nice and loud.”

You’re embarrassed. If your cheeks could turn any darker in this moment, you’re sure they would. And you don’t want to answer him, suddenly bashful even when he’s buried inside of you as you bounce on his cock.

Displeased with your lack of a response, he angles his hips upwards, meeting you halfway to send himself deeper into the depths of your cunt. It catches you off guard to say the least, but only causes you to move faster, further onto him to chase that feeling again.

“It’s mine, sir,” you whine, words rushed and breathless. “It’s mineit’smineit’smine!” You continue, drunk off his cock and so close to coming you can’t hardly stand it.

Jake groans, continuing to push his hips upwards. “Yes, princess. My good fucking girl. It’s fucking yours.”

You want him to come harder than he ever has; want his cum deep inside you because it really is yours. He’s yours.

“Taking me so well, princess.” He pants. “Riding me so fucking good. Go on, baby. Want you to come again. Soak my cock, baby.”

Your words become mush, incoherent babbles as you continue fucking yourself on him. You can’t hardly breathe anymore, your chest heaving for breath as you feel the knot inside of you threatening to snap.

“Oh, princess…” he coos, “My dumb little baby. Can’t even get a word out when my cock’s buried inside you. Can’t even help it, can you?” He snaps his hips upwards more forcefully than before, an unforgiving pace that allows you some sort of reprieve from the burning in your thighs.

The moan that rips from your chest would have caused you to curl in on yourself in embarrassment, but right now you can’t seem to care. The way he’s fucking into you, the way he’s speaking to you…it’s too much for your already fucked-out brain to handle.

“Gonna come!” You muster out, your voice cracking as you grip his shoulders tighter.

“Yeah?” Jake taunts, still snapping into you as your pussy contracts around him. “Do it, princess. I can feel you fucking squeezing me so tight- fuck, baby. Gonna make me fucking come, aren’t you?”

You want to answer him; you really do. But all you can muster is a nod as your orgasm rips through you, your mouth dropping open and your cunt locking down around Jake as it fights to keep him inside. Your ears ring as you pulse around him, unsure if you’re making noise or not at this point.

Jake’s orgasm washes over him, choking out a moan of your name as he buries himself as far as he can. He spills inside of you, cum spurting from his swollen tip and into you. You feel him coating your walls as your vision returns to you, his eyebrows furrowed and sweat glimmering his forehead.

God, he’s beautiful all the time, but especially like this.

The two of you are a breathless mess, feeling the his cum mixing with yours as it seeps down your inner thighs. You breathe out a laugh, your forehead falling against his as he wraps his arm around you.

“I’m yours, princess.” His voice is as soft as silk as he traces his fingertips along your spine. “You know that don’t you?”

You smile, lashes fluttering as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes your heart feel warm – even when you don’t deserve it; even when you’re acting like a brat.

“I do now.” You tease, attempting to bite back a smile but ultimately failing when you hear him giggle.

“Oh, princess,” He tightens his arms around you. “What are we gonna do with you?”

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gretavanlace · 2 months

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Sugar II (part 8)

Jake Kizska x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: adult content, language, brief illusions to sex, angst, jealousy, etc.

Only two chapters to go and an epilogue, everyone. I’m so grateful that you have taken this little journey with me. Thank you so much for all your kind words, support, and care. You’re all so wonderful ❤️

“Oh my god, Jake,” your eyes are darting around the room like a mouse with a rabid alley cat slinking, famished and cruel, into its path.

Your unease trumps his delighted gloating instantly, “What do you want me to do, sugar? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

When you steal a glance at the window, longing to climb out and disappear, he hops on the train of your thought process right away, “You want me to duck out?”

You know Jake through and through, and staring into his eyes as your heart drums paranoid vibrations into your rib cage, you’re stunned to watch him offer to give up this chance to square off with whom he has come to see as his most bitter rival. That he would do that for you? That all you would have to do is ask and he would crawl out and wander off into the golden afternoon sunshine like an afterthought…

You really do own his whole heart, you realize at the most inopportune of moments. Your grip on his soul is just as tight as his fingers have always clawed down inside yours…fierce and beautiful in their unrelenting grip.

But haven’t you always known? Hasn’t it always been written across his skin? Etched in his gaze? Sculpted into the bow of his lips when he whispers your name? Evident in his touch?

“No,” you shake your head, willing the mess inside of it to go away, rejecting the thought of him leaving. You want him near, you need him near. To let him go right now, even for a second, seems an agonizing punishment that you cannot bear to suffer. No matter the consequences.

“Stay. But please…” you rush over to him, helping him to his feet while stealing glances at the doorway, “Please just behave and follow my lead, okay? Please?”

”Normally, I like it when you use your manners,” he sighs, smoothing out his clothes, as well as a lock of your hair that has fluttered out of place, “But that’s too many pleases and you look petrified. Why?” His voice is suddenly intense yet careful, as is his grip on your arm, “Does he hurt you?”

They idea is entirely laughable, but there’s no time for that, so you brush him off with a swipe of your hand and a flippant, “Don’t be stupid, Jake.”

Without allowing yourself to think it through, you begin ushering him down the hall towards the front room, but what will you find there? Doom or salvation?

How will these pieces fall together? Something solid and heavy in your heart tells you Jake will do as you have asked and play nice, but another facet buried even deeper inside is rocked with anxiety and screaming that it’s only wishful thinking to believe such a fairytale.

”Hey hon,” jovially rings out as he steps in through the garage, “I saw your car! We’re both home early? Looks like the universe knew how much I missed you!”

Jake turns to catch your eye as you shove him along, but you refuse to meet his gaze. You're unsure of what you’ll find there and this isn’t the time for uncertainties.

Would you find sadness threatening to roll hot tears down his cheeks? Anger threatening to boil over in his fiery chocolate irises? Accusation and resentment for what you’re about to subject him to?

Oh god, you can’t do this! Suddenly, and absurdly, you wish you could fade into the gentle, lush, green paint that you had once rolled upon the hallway walls, paying meticulous attention to detail. Build this home, had been the plan…bury him away under paint and sanded cabinets. Art perched on the walls and throw pillows piled on the bed.

You’d love to disappear and leave them perplexed and confused, wondering what became of you. To vanish into nothing like a dust mote blown away upon the lightest, softest breeze.

You’re a coward.

While your thoughts are busy with that, Jake’s are grappling with each other. Tangled up and struggling. He’d very much like to stomp into the front room and shut this man up. With his booming voice calling out how much he’s missed you like he has some claim over you. Like you’re his. Like he doesn’t understand that you could never really be anyone’s because you’re much too good for this whole goddamn world. That you’re precious, like the rarest of stones and anyone who is lucky enough to hold you in their palm should fall on their knees in thanks.

He sounds so fucking common. Does he think you’re common as well? Jake can’t stomach the thought.

So, yes, he’d like to stroll into the room, casual as you please, and announce that he is taking you away from this ridiculous illusion where you play house and pretend to be satisfied. He longs to tell him how he’s made love to you, how he’s fucked you. How you’ve begged for him and swore no one could ever be him. Jake wants to tell him that the ring he put on your finger has been in his mouth, that he spat it out and you didn’t even care. That you hardly even noticed. Jake would almost kill to watch Mr. Wonderful’s face crumple in defeat and loss…

But he loves you far too much, and to say all those things would hurt you, too.

Scar your heart he will not.

He’s shrugging off his suit blazer when you both appear. It’s a mundane action, one that repeats itself nearly every evening, but you stand still and shellshocked, unable to jolt yourself into some semblance of normalcy until Jake subtly nudges you with a ginger elbow.

“Hi,” you begin, a touch too loudly, “Yeah, you’re early! I actually didn’t end up going to work today. Old friend in town. We went to the movies. And then we came here. He wanted to see the house. I…I told him about it. I was just giving him the tour.”

You sound robotic and ridiculous, but he doesn’t appear to notice. Rather, he looks delighted when his eyes land on Jake and recognition settles in.

”Ah, I know you!” He laughs, marching forward with an outstretched hand. “The almost brother in law. Good to finally meet you.”

His grasp on Jake’s hand is strong and sure as he pumps it up and down. The genuine gladness in his gesture makes you want to tear your own hair out in penance.

Or is it the ‘almost brother in law’ moniker that has made you nauseous?

Yes, that’s what you boiled Jacob down to. You had held nothing back about your relationship with Josh…but Jake? You just couldn’t. To speak of him, to share him that way…it had seemed incomprehensible. And how could you ever put it into words, anyway? How could anyone ever understand what he was to you? What he is to you? No, it had seemed best to keep him locked away, silent and safe in your memories. Tucked away in your heart. The boy in the bubble.

Jake’s face is unreadable as he sizes up this opponent before him. This rival who has just unknowingly stepped into the ring. This blissfully unaware adversary. He is a doe who has wandered idly into the path of a dangerously ravenous mountain lion, and he doesn’t even know it. Ignorance really does seem like bliss in this moment, and you long for it.

“Yes, the almost brother in law,” his tone is slightly clipped, but no one, aside from you - and perhaps his brothers - would ever notice. “That’s me. And you are?”

Here we go. He’s going to love this.

They drop hands and a friendly clap lands on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m Jake, too. What are the odds?”

A sharp, satisfied laugh bursts out of Jake, head tipped back, adam’s apple bobbing gleefully, and you long to tell the smug bastard to just shut the hell up, but it’s over quickly enough.

”Yes,” he sighs, with a shake of his head that ends in his eyes blazing holes into your soul, “What are the odds?”

”’Course this one over here calls me by my middle name, James. Says it fits me. No one else does, though, so choice is yours. Man, it’s so great to finally meet you.” He’s prattling on now, never having met a stranger, “You know we’ve got all your work over there in the case. You’re a hell of a guitar player. I tried to learn in high school, mostly to impress girls…never could get it. Anyway…”

Jake is eyeing him like he doesn’t know what to make of this man standing there, cordial and warm, tossing out compliments and bids for conversation.

His eyes are traveling over this unfamiliar being, now so tangible and real, who has had his hands all over you. Who has had his mouth pressed to your precious body, who has whispered against your skin, who has made love to you in the still of the night, and held you, and rested beside you, breathing in tandem. Who has gotten down on one knee and asked you to be his wife.

And you said yes...you said yes.

He wants to hurt him. Both physically and emotionally. He wants to level him. To crush him into nothing. And though this Jake, James, or whatever his name is, isn’t to blame, he wants it all the same. He wishes he could lure him into his palm like a revolting insect and squeeze until he was no more than something vile to be wiped away with a Kleenex.

Instead, he tilts his head in the direction of the vinyls and shrugs off the accolades, “Fuckin’ Zeppelin cover band.”

James laughs uproariously and gestures into the room welcomingly, “Why are we all standing around like this? Have a seat…please. Make yourself at home. Can I get you something to drink? Water? A beer? Whiskey? I know it’s early, but special occasions call for special circumstances, I always say.”

Eyes on you, he shrugs out a response that would be lost on anybody but you, “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Once you’re alone for a moment, he shakes his head with a gorgeous, if not self-satisfied, smirk sparking to life upon his face. “His name is Jake? Oh, sugar…” he’s laughing softly now, and sinking down into the cushions of the couch, “creature of habit, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

”Shut up!” You hiss, eyes flickering towards the kitchen doorway, “Coincidence. That’s all. Don’t be so fucking full of yourself. Now, please just be nice.”

He quiets down, drawing the back of his forefinger beneath his eye dramatically as if he has laughed himself to tears, “I’m being very nice and you know it. Don’t push it.”

You sit, as far away from him as the couch will allow, but instantly he’s leaned in close. “What do you think he would do if I got down on my knees right here and buried my face in that gorgeous little cunt of yours? Showed him how it’s really done.”

”Jacob!” You barely make a sound as you admonish him with a clipped shove to settle him.

He slinks back into his seat with another laughing shake of his head, “This is perfect.”

”I hate you.” You lie.

”Sure you do, sugar,” he winks, crossing his legs to get comfy, “Sure you do. Almost brother in law, huh? Is that what I’ve been reduced to?”

He’s still chuckling quietly to himself while a strange mix of panic and tears begins to churn around inside of you like a slow moving summer storm. He’s gearing up, you can feel it, and the thought of it all is too much, your metaphorical knees are beginning to shake. This could end so, so badly.

“Later, Jake…” you’re beseeching without shame, pleading with your watery gaze. “We’ll talk about it later. Please just stop.”

His palm cradles your cheek so softly you wonder if anyone has ever touched someone as gently as he touches you, “Settle down, baby. I won’t make trouble for you.”

How laughable that he can’t seem to recognize that you’ve brought this trouble on all by yourself. No help needed.

He has moved to create a respectable distance between the two of you by the time James is sweeping back into the room bearing a tray flush with drinks and snacks.

”Here, sweetie,” he drops a kiss upon the top of your head, presenting a glass. “Made you a mimosa…I know you like to keep it light through the week.”

You somehow manage a thank you and sip at the sweet, bubbly mix, praying it calms your frayed nerves.

”For us,” he extends the tray and you watch as Jake plucks a low ball glass from it, “bourbon. Unless you’d rather browse the bar. Plenty to choose from.”

”Bourbon is fantastic,” Jake nips at his glass. “Thank you.”

There is a palpable disdain hovering around Jake like a murky aura, but there is heartbreak there too. Aching and black. Heavy and weighing down the light that normally follows him around like a strange shadow…and you’d give anything to take it away.

For just a breath, you intend to do just that. To rise to your feet and stomp all over James’ open, trusting heart. To tell him the truth. To tell him you’re leaving. You nearly take Jake by the hand and drag him towards the door and leave everything else behind without explanation…simply to end his suffering.

Your lips nearly part to say the words when you’re cut off.

“Oh. I almost forgot,” James leans forward in his chair and grabs for your hand, absently running his thumb against your own, “Erin called. She said you guys had a great time the other day, said you’d planned something for this weekend? Wedding planning?”

Erin. His sister. You’ve grown close but it wouldn’t hurt to leave her behind. It wouldn’t even sting…not for Jake.

You squeeze his hand with a tiny smile and fight rolling nausea at the mere mention of the wedding in Jake’s presence. From the corner of your eye, you watch him tense, but he recovers quickly and drains his glass to the dredges in one pull.

”Well,” suddenly, he’s on his feet. “I’ve taken enough of your time today. It was good to see you.” His eyes are unreadable and shift quickly away from your own. “James, good to meet you and thank you for the hospitality.”

”Don’t run off on my account,” James is on his feet now as well, “We’d love to have you stay for dinner. I make a mean chicken Kiev, and…”

”No,” Jake interrupts, gaze jumping towards the door as if he can’t get away fast enough. “I’ve got a flight to catch in just a few hours, need to head back…you know how it goes.”

He sounds ineloquent and so unlike himself… and you can feel it - his heartbreak - in your bones as though you’ve crawled inside his body and curled up beside it like a clinging lover.

“Jake,” you can’t seem to move from your seat, your body uncooperative and rebellious, “Your car is still at the theater, let me drive you…”

”Drive me?” He is staring at you, white hot and desperate…the mask is finally slipping. He has played pretend all he can for the day. “And then what?”

”And then…” again, you are a coward. A fucking coward. “I don’t know. What do you mean, and then?”

The room is silent for a beat - with words unspoken crashing into the space between yourself and Jake, and James struggling to understand this strange exchange.

With the slightest nod of his head, Jacob silently encourages you. Urges you. Come with me, sugar…it seems to say, come home.

But still you sit, frozen and paralyzed. A horrified doe staring down the hunter’s muzzle.

Another nod, clipped and more obvious this time, responds to your inaction. “I’ll walk. Again, thank you for having me.”

The door closes behind him in a blink, and he is gone. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve imagined him completely…

Looking down at your shaking hands in your lap, you realize you never even made it to your feet. You sat, unmoving, and watched him go.

Hours later, you’re standing outside an unfamiliar door, anxiously clutching at the straps of the bag tossed over your shoulder.

And when that unfamiliar door swings open, your heart unclenches, for there he stands. Showered, smelling of soap and warmth, hair curled into dampened, loose ringlets, beat to hell jeans riding low on his hips.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “If it isn’t Mrs. Wonderful…”

“Hi,” it comes out meek and small, but flush full of the comfort that is being near him.

”How’d you find me?” His arms cross loosely, with a faded smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

”Were you hiding?” Why hasn’t he turned to lead you in?

”From you, pretty girl?” He scoffs as if the very idea is preposterous. “Never.”

Yet, on he stands as though barring your entrance…as though he intends to send you on your way any moment.

”I called Josh,” you offer, wringing at your bag’s handles idly, simply for something to do with your hands. “He told me where you were staying.” Your gaze skitters over the house. “It’s nice. Cozy.”

He nods, “Airbnb. You mentioned something about us always being in hotels, before. I thought, if there was a chance I’d be hosting you, you might like something a little more…domestic. Though, I see now that you have plenty of that going for you already, right? Domesticity?”

“Do I deserve that?”

His shoulders hunch inwardly slightly, he knows you’re right, and he knows he’s being a bit of an asshole as well. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

”Are you going to invite me in? I feel a little stupid standing out here.” Vulnerability seems of such insignificance when it is Jacob in question. He knows your bare soul so well anyway.

Still, he allows you to dangle on his string, twisting languidly in the soft, evening breeze. “Why’d you call Josh to find me? Why not just call me? Missing my better half now that you’ve had a bit of fun with me?”

Now there’s a slight irritation traipsing along your nerves, and damned if you’re going to mask it. “Alright, either let me in or tell me to go to hell. I’m not going to beg for your good graces.”

”Are you coming in to stay? Or are you here to say goodbye? Because my heart has had enough for one day.”

”Oh, fuck off, Jacob.” You huff, pushing past him into the house. You slump your bag off your shoulder and onto the floor and then turn on him. “Sorry to have interrupted your pity party, but what did you think was going to happen today? Did you think it was going to be spectacular and wonderful to walk around in the life that I live with someone else? You practically fucked me in the bedroom I share with him. You lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree when you realized he was home. You wanted this, and you know what I think your problem is? I think you liked him.”

”Fuck you!” He slams the door closed and looks you over like you’ve lost your mind entirely. “You think I liked him? I couldn’t give a fuck less about him. He made my skin crawl. Do you know what it was like for me to watch him touch you? The way he looked at you…”

He falls silent and suddenly refuses to meet your eyes, and your heart breaks right alongside his.

Tentatively, you reach out and rest your palm against his cheek, “The way he looked at me doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It never really has.”

His hand floats up to meet yours, “He looked at you with so much love. Like he would give you the entire world. It made me feel not good enough. It made me feel like I should leave and let it be. Like I was wrong for showing up and rattling your whole life around.”

You’re backing him up against the door now, his gorgeous, stricken face held fast in your sure and gentle hands. “Not good enough? You? Oh, Jakey…” you pet at his face worshipfully, “We have a garden, remember? And you help me harvest, and I know you feed me those tiny tomatoes I like. You know? The little yellow ones? And they’re all gone before we even get inside.”

He’s nodding along as you pepper kisses upon his cheeks and forehead.

“And we have a porch swing, and a piano, and beautiful babies, and a cat…and you sing to us, and love us hard every single minute of every single day. And you make us so, so happy. And I wake up every morning with a smile on my face because I packed this stupid bag,” your foot darts out and kicks it, “and shoved my way inside when you refused to invite me in.”

”Don't say things you don’t mean, sugar…” his hands are in your hair now, guiding your mouth to his own so that he can lick inside it. He needs to taste you - needs to feel the silken velvet of your tongue, “I can’t take it, baby.”

You’re breathing each other's breath, lips like feathers dancing together soft and sweet, holding on to one another as if you might both just vanish into nothing in an instant, “I mean it, Jake…” you promise, “I mean it. You are everything,”

You can almost hear the pounding of his heart as the heat of his need begins to radiate and warm you, “Because I can’t stand the thought of leaving, of thinking you’ll follow, only for you to change your mind. It would kill me, sugar. So, please don’t say these things to me if you—“

You silence him with a deep, feverish kiss and then break away, forehead to forehead, “I’m not following later. I’m coming with you. This is where I am now…with you.”

Tears well in his eyes and spill over, hot and saline, as you lick and kiss them away. “I love you, pretty girl…” it chokes out of him, rasping as he swallows thickly, “I love you so fucking much. I’ve imagined this moment in so many different ways, but it was never as perfect as this. Tell me you know how much I love you.”

”I know, and I—“ it is he who interrupts with a desperate kiss this time.

And you know that later he will ask, and when he asks you will tell him what was said back at that house that broke his heart in two - how you ended things with the one who really never mattered at all…

…but for now all that matters is the taste of him on your lips. His air-drying hair looped through your searching fingers. Your hearts and lungs syncing, with his tears like brackish diamonds in your stomach because you have finally swallowed his sorrow and unburdened him from it.

He seems lighter in your arms already…closer now to the sun than he had ever been to the moon before.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove @josh-iamyour-mama

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gretavangroupie · 24 days

Text

The Ripe and The Ruin - (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 14.3k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Unwelcome Advances, Kissing.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

JAKE POV

You absentmindedly swirl the skinny black straw around in your glass, scoffing to yourself as you wonder why the bartender put a stirrer into your Whiskey in the first place. It didn’t need to be stirred. You took it straight. It was fine on its own. Regardless, you sipped around the straw, letting the oaky liquor trickle down the back of your throat.

It wasn’t that you hated flying. It was more that you hated being alone with your thoughts for extended periods of time. Only your phone or a book to occupy your brain, but you knew that only worked for so long. Eventually you’d be left alone to tumble down into those dark, dusty memories that would torment you until you touched down in whatever city you were slated to be in that day.

You hear Josh’s voice, instinctively causing you to turn your head, watching as he and Daniel stand in front of the camera recording whatever video the social media team planned for the day. You gracefully bowed out of that process all together, the team knowing not to approach you about an idea unless they knew it was something you would agree to. Usually though, it wasn’t. You turn to look at Sam on your right, seeing his gaze fixed upon the two of them. Both of you were now watching them as they played along with the skit, a huff of secondhand embarrassment sizzling through you as you sip from your glass. You’d never be caught dead doing that.

Fools. How is anyone ever supposed to take us seriously if all we show them is this?

“You ready for another few months of this shit?” you mumble, your lips barely parting from the edge of your glass.

Sam snickers as he turns back to you. “No. But that’s the job isn’t it?” he answers, swallowing down a gulp of beer, turning to look at you.

“I’m hitting that wall, too.” you answer, meeting the eyes of his girlfriend, Lyla. She sends you a sympathetic look as she squeezes Sam’s arm, giving him the little bit of reassurance he needs. “S’been a shit few weeks.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, instead pursing his lips together and slowly nodding his head as he peers down into his empty glass. Everyone knows better than to indulge you in your misery at this point, vowing not to pick at the festering wound. It’s still fresh and you’re still too volatile.

“Well, we’re going to your happy place, right?” Lyla asks with a hopeful smile.

“Yeah, yeah we are,” you answer, taking another long pull of Whiskey. It was clear she didn’t know the reason it made you happy in the first place was because of the memories you made there with the person no longer around.

You turn your head ready to fall into those memories you’ve been pushing away for weeks, but fate has other plans as you spot your production team walking towards the boarding gate. They look frantic as they talk to each other, their eyes flicking up and down from their phones in their hands. Paul, your band Manager leads the group, finally slipping his phone into his pocket as he spots the gate. Next to him is Corrine, the Production Manager talking on the phone, balancing it between her ear and shoulder as she follows Paul. Wes, the Tour Manager continues to talk to Paul as they step into the waiting area, but behind him is someone you don’t recognize.

She’s looking down at her phone, unaware that Wes has come to an abrupt stop in front of her. She runs into him just enough that it gets his attention, a profuse apology falling from her mouth. You laugh a little at the exchange, wondering who this girl is, and why she is with your team. She’s dressed like the rest of them, casual, but still comfortable for a day of travel. A slouchy white long sleeve shirt, a little too thin for the cold January weather, a brown leather backpack, worn and well loved, and a pair of olive green pants that hug her ass just a little too well for 10AM on a Thursday morning. You find yourself unable to pull your eyes away from her, a magnetizing feeling sucking you in the longer you look at her. She laughs with Wes, a bright smile lighting up her face causing an unwelcome twinge in your chest. It’s when she fully turns though, allowing you to see her whole face through the curtain of tousled waves, that you find yourself needing to know who she is.

You swallow nervously, licking your bottom lip as you turn to Sam. “Who uh, who’s that?” you ask, nodding towards the group. “With Paul, Wes, and Corri?”

Sam turns around in his barstool, looking across the busy walkway to the group standing at the gate. “Oh, um…” he pauses, assessing the situation. “She’s with Paul, so that must be our new runner.”

“What happened to Lucy?” you ask, letting your eyes drift back to the mystery girl.

“She got engaged and moved to Scotland or some shit, I don’t remember. Ask Josh,” he laughs.

You hum, trying to remember the email thread where Paul’s new assistant was approved. What was her name…

“You know her name?” Lyla asks, looking at Sam.

Yes, Lyla. Yes.

“Um, I think it’s….Y/N. Yeah, yeah, Y/N,” he answers confidently, snapping his fingers as he speaks.

“So she’s the new Lucy…” you hum, flipping your sunglasses down over your eyes.

“Guess so. We’ll see if she can hack it,” he laughs, sliding his card to the bartender.

You turn back to look at her, this time your eyes concealed. She is rocking back and forth on her feet, looking around as she hugs her arms across her chest. She seems nervous, pushing her hair behind her ears every few minutes. You’re positively taken by her, unable to peel your eyes away from her every move. You can’t help but study her, and you briefly wonder if it's the alcohol rushing through your brain that has you so focused on her.

The gate agents’ voice blaring through the intercom system snaps you from your thoughts, announcing that your flight was ready to begin boarding. You look to Sam, who is signing the check, and nod your head in silent agreement that you should head over. You toss back the rest of your Whiskey, letting out a sigh as it warms your chest. You grab your black leather backpack and sling it over your shoulders, straightening out your shirt before following Sam across the walkway to the gate. With your glasses still down, you step into the waiting area, watching people line up around you.

Josh, Ty, Mia, and Daniel appear behind you, startling you a bit as you fumble around in your pocket for your boarding pass. Their conversation is loud and grating, but you tune them out. You check your seat assignment as you move forward in the line, repeating it in your head over and over so you don’t forget it. You try not to pay attention to the pretty mystery girl five people ahead of you, but you just can’t seem to take your eyes off of her. You watch her disappear down the jet bridge as she talks to Paul, and before you can even register it, it’s your turn and the gate agent is scanning your ticket. She sends you on your way with a smile, and as you make the long walk to the plane you wonder if the girl in the green pants is going to make this tour just a little bit more interesting.

—

HER POV

3E. 3E. 3E.

Your eyes scan the row of numbers at the top of the cabin, finally catching sight of your assigned seat. You slide into the aisle seat, tossing your backpack to the floor as you let out a sigh of relief. You made it in one piece. You weren’t late, and everyone seemed to like you so far.

You take a look around you, admiring the plush seats and ample legroom. You’d never flown first class before. You felt a little out of place as you looked at the people around you. Thankfully it was filled with team members you knew, and the band members and their partners, but still you knew you didn’t belong up here. You kicked your bag beneath the seat in front of you, pulling your shirt sleeves over your hands before reaching up to adjust the air vents that were blowing far too hard. A small shiver left your body as you spun the vents closed, sitting back comfortably in your seat as you waited to see who your seat partner would be.

Your phone buzzed on your lap, a text from your best friend lighting up your screen.

Ruth

10:57am: How many hours is the flight again?

You smile as you quickly text back, running the numbers in your head.

You

10:58am: I don’t know, like 7 or 8 hours? You’ll be fine. Read a book or something. I’ll text you when I get there. But it will be late…or early? I think? There is a big time difference.

Ruth

10:59am: Ok, be careful.

You lock your phone and shove it under your leg, your eyes darting to the aisle as more people pass you on their way to their seats. You couldn’t believe your first leg of tour with them was taking you across Europe, allowing you to see places you’d only dreamed about. It wasn’t the job you were worried about, you could do that in your sleep. It was the uncertainty of being in another country with people you didn’t really know.

Getting to know the bands you worked for was a precarious thing. Always walking the thin line between friend and employee. You knew your place though, and you knew where that boundary lied. Your eyes refocus as someone stops in front of you, dropping their hands. As you look up you see Jake, one of the band members staring back at you.

“I’m…right there,” he says, gently pointing to the seat next to you.

“Oh, right here?” you ask, genuinely curious how you were seated next to a band member and not with a crew member.

“3F? That’s what this says…” he asks, checking his boarding pass. You nod and stand, letting him slide into the seat. He drops his leather backpack to the ground with a thud, letting out a sigh of relief, much in the same way you had.

You resettle in your own seat, buckling your seatbelt and pulling it tight across your lap. Your heart is still pounding as you try to calm your nerves, suddenly feeling put on the spot next to your boss. Or– your boss's boss. Shit.

You realize that you know practically nothing about this band, about its members, and really even much of their music beyond their hits. You planned to spend most of this flight acquainting yourself with them, learning their likes and dislikes before making a fool out of yourself in front of them in the green room. You don’t know if you should speak to him, and truthfully you’re a little hesitant since that day at the office, catching him and Josh in an argument.

You didn’t even know they would be there as you went in to sign your paperwork, but to your surprise they were, standing in the middle of the office playing around on instruments and talking. You made a beeline straight for the management office, mostly unseen, and quickly signed your paperwork. Paul went over some of the timelines and the things you would be responsible for as you took detailed notes on your phone, not wanting to miss a single thing.

Though, all of that came to a screeching halt as the sound of a chair skidding forcefully across the concrete floors pulled you both from your conversation. From your seat you watched through the small office door as two men moved towards each other, while two more intervened to break up whatever was about to happen.

You then learned from Paul that the two people that were arguing were the twins, Jake and Josh, and that the other two were their younger brother Sam, and their honorary brother Daniel. You observed in shock as the two of them shouted profanities at each other from either side of the piano, both red faced and worked up over something.

Paul quickly walked you out the front door with an apology and a laugh, and that was the last you saw of the band and its members, until today.

Out of the corner of your eye, you try to get a good look at him without him noticing. First impressions have always been a big deal to you, and since your first impression of him was nothing short of off-putting, you decide to try again. Give him the benefit of the doubt.

Worn-in black pants, cuffed at the ankle, a wrinkled beige button up that only conceals half his torso, a thick dark navy overcoat, and a stack of heavy silver necklaces. Oh, and blue-tinted sunglasses. His cologne… now that will be sticking around in your mind for a while. Clean, woodsy, a hint of musk but still kind of sweet.

You hear him clear his throat as he fidgets with his things, putting them all in their places as he finally settles into his seat. He reaches down into his black leather bag that appears to be well-loved, and pulls out a set of wired earbuds. They’re tangled and bunched, and you can’t help but smirk as you watch him try to untangle them. His fingers pull through the twisted white wires, and before you can offer your help, he reluctantly tosses them back down on top of his unzipped bag. “Fuck it,” you hear him mumble under his breath. He huffs again and leans back, tapping his fingers anxiously on his arm rests.

You let yourself drift back into your own thought as the plane takes off, going over the hundreds of miniscule things you know you’ll have to accomplish as soon as the plane lands. It’s quiet in first class, something you aren't used to with flying on the regular. The peacefulness that comes along with the drone of the plane and the light conversation between everyone is almost enough to help you relax a little, if not for the damned cool air still blowing through the vent above you.

You shiver a little, cuffing your hands over the ends of your shirt to pull it in more closely to your body. Why you had chosen to forgo a heavier jacket in the middle of winter, you truly don’t know. You decide to distract yourself a little, pulling up the string of endless emails that lie in waiting on your phone, getting a nice head-start on your duties before you have to hit the ground running.

Jake has been sitting beside you quietly for about an hour now, alternating scrolling his phone every few minutes and looking out his window. The cloud cover is heavy, so being able to see even a glimpse of the ocean below you is a lost cause. You listen as he sighs, crossing one of his legs over the other and folding his hands in his lap.

Should you strike up conversation? No, he probably doesn’t care to speak to you. But is it rude not to? You’ve already been sitting here for over an hour…

Just as you decide to open your mouth to speak, the plane hits turbulence. The cabin shakes and rumbles, and you can feel your stomach fall. Your hands grip the arm rests with white knuckles as the plane passes through, your eyes gripping shut as tightly as your palms on the arm rests.

Finally, after what feels like forever the plane evens out again, and you hear the pilot come over the intercom to apologize. You finally let the breath you were holding free from your lungs, and you open your eyes to see Jake with his head leaned low in front of you.

“You okay?” he asks, an eyebrow cocked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just…don’t really enjoy this part much.” you admit, running your sweaty palms over your pants.

He sits back in his seat once he notices your calmness return. “Me neither, to be honest. No matter how many times you hit turbulence on a plane, you never get used to it. I don’t care what people say.” he says with a sweet smile. You can tell that he was coming down from an anxious episode just the same as you.

“No joke…” you agree, suddenly wanting a drink even if it was before noon. You push the tiny hairs away from your face as you regain a hold on your bearings, picking up right where you had left off before the turbulent air sent you into a spiral of doom. “I–I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself before, my name’s–”

“Y/N.” he cut in, extending the tips of his fingers out to offer you a friendly handshake.

You let your hand slowly come up to meet his, suddenly uncaring that it was probably still clammy. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”

For the five seconds your bodies connect, and the even shorter few seconds that his honey brown eyes meet yours, you feel like you were worried for nothing. This guy is nice. Maybe he’ll be easier to talk to than you thought…

His hand disconnects and flies to his chest. “I’m Jake.”

You nod. Of course you already know his name. “Yeah, um…guitar. Right?”

He smiles harder this time. “Yup. That’s my forte, at least. Have you um, ever been to Europe?” He brushes his hand over his nose a few times as his eyes dart back and forth from the seat behind you and back to your face, unable to hold eye contact. Is he nervous?

You turn your body a little more toward him. “No, actually. This is my first time. But I hear good things…”

“Oh shit, you’re gonna love it. Especially this time of year. Things move pretty fast when we get there, but we always try to explore as much as possible. See some sights.” You can tell that he’s truly excited about this excursion, and to be completely honest, you found yourself wanting to hang on his every word.

“Anything in particular?” you press, wanting to hear the gritty rich sound of his voice again.

You let him talk on and on about the places he wants to see, and the places that they had already been, even bringing up a few older photos on his phone as he describes their past trips. You try not to look as he scrolls, but his camera roll is full of tons of scenic photos and videos, landscapes, mountains, waterfronts… and of course a few rogue photos of guitars and guitar parts. You wonder if he’s planning to make little vlogs.

“Italy is my favorite, I think. So much history there. I could’ve stayed for six months if they’d have let me.” Your shoulders are pressed up against each others’ now as you watch his thumb glide over the multitude of media, speeding through the less important ones to get to his favorites. Strange of him to trust a stranger this much to watch him scroll his personal camera roll. He obviously doesn’t have much to hide, even if this is crossing that boundary line…

“The people are great, the food is great, the wine, oh god, don’t get me started on the wine…” he chuckles, and you feel yourself bumping your shoulder against his a little as you laugh along with him. “The terroir is fuckin’ phenomenal, obviously. It’s like a different world.”

“I like a moscato every now and then.” You add, trying to throw in your two cents on your crumbs of wine knowledge.

He returns with a scrunched nose. “Hmm, a bit sweet for my taste…So, Y/N. What’s your story, how’d you end up with us?” he asks, switching to cross his other leg over, now.

You swallow, unsure of how to explain years’ worth of ups and downs you’d gone through to a rockstar. Your boss. You decide to keep it short and sweet, he didn’t need to know everything.

“Well, I spent my entire youth attending a small private school and private high school, so I came up quite the determined and disciplined kid. Kinda sheltered.” You turn again in your seat, tucking one leg up underneath you. “But, I ended up moving away from home and away from family, been in this business for almost, eh, six years now?” You go on, and he listens intently. “Guess you could say I’m a pro at making things happen out of thin air.” You give him a long wink as you snap your fingers together.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he finally gives you a hundred-watt smile. My god, he’s…

“A-ha, so you got all the good hookups, huh?” He asks, running his fingers over his chin as his cheeks turn the palest shade of pink.

“S’what the runner does, isn’t it?” You pull your eyes back down to your lap. “Get you everything you need, right when you need it?”

You bring your eyes back up to his and watch as he swallows hard, his mouth hanging open for just a split second before he catches himself. “Yeah, ehm, I suppose it is. We’re not too bossy, though. Josh can be, but.”

“So I’ve heard, he’s kind of a…diva?” You hadn’t done too much research on them, honestly. You hadn’t had the time. But, what few tiktoks and musics videos you had managed to see were fairly telling of their personalities.

“He is. He is.” Jake laughs. “Don't let him fool you, though. He’s a big softie with an attitude problem. We all kind of are, honestly.”

“You’re a softie?” You press with a teasing tone. “From the few videos I’ve seen of you playing guitar, you look a little intimidating…”

“Me? Intimidating?” He clicks his tongue. “Don’t believe everything you see on the internet, Y/N. It’s dangerous…” he growls the last word, and you can feel your insides ripping themselves apart just at the sound of his voice. You have to pull back, now.

“All the runners we’ve ever had did extensive research on us before they came on tour, did you not do that?” he inquires, throwing you off a bit.

You don’t really know how to answer, so you tell the truth. “Honestly Jake, no, I didn’t. I’ve toured with a few other bands in my career, and I did that. I researched them, learned all things I thought I needed to know so I didn’t go in blind. And, this time around, I did a little bit, but I kind of wanted to meet you all for myself. Get my own versions of you.”

“Hm.” He responds with an understanding nod. “Well, you’ll be the first.”

“Speaking of,” you go on, candidly glancing around the cabin and deciding to go ahead and ask the question that’s been nagging you. “Everyone else is seated with someone, wonder why I’m not with the rest of the team.”

“What, you don’t wanna sit by me, Y/N?” he asks with a shred of a grin.

“No no, it’s not that.” you laugh. “Just—“

“Normally I have someone with me, but…we’ve recently…gone our separate ways, I suppose.” He trips over the words a little, stammering through them like it was the first time he’d admitted it.

“Oh… I see.” you pause, “That’s…never an easy thing.”

I wonder if that was why he was so snippy that day at the office when you saw him fall off his rocker?

“Eh, s’alright. Win some, lose some. We had a good run.” He says as he waves off the question. “So, you say you’ve been doing this awhile, you must really miss whoever you’re leaving at home.”

Skating around the question, aren’t you, Jake?

“No, I’m single, if that’s what you’re asking.” You bite your lip as he doesn’t stop you from elaborating further. “I’m pretty independent, I like structure and uniformity. Growing up I wasn’t allowed much time on my own to have hobbies outside of school and practice. Strict parents. The job has kept me pretty adhered to that mindset, even in my personal life, so.”

His eyes flick to yours and he squints them a little, as if he’s collecting every single one of your words and hanging them in a closet in his mind. He’s trying his best to figure you out, you can see it on his face. But why? He shouldn’t care…you don’t matter.

“I can respect that.” He nods again. “My brothers and I, we grew up in a fairly religious household. Was great, don’t get me wrong. Really formed our roots but, as we got older and started to see the world, we kinda got away from it. Began to start seeing things in a different perspective.” He sucks his teeth, as if he’s recounting a hard memory. “Kinda why we moved to Nashville. We knew we had to break away if we wanted the band to be successful.”

You nod in understanding. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it?”

His laugh fills the cabin as it bounces off the walls, a sweet chuckle that makes your heart rate pick up. You could listen to him laugh all day long.

“S’pose it did.”

“The fuck are you two over here laughing at, huh?” Suddenly Josh’s curls are squished between your seats, his cheeks pinched together as he speaks. “I’m trying to get some shut-eye but I can’t from all the babbling—”

Jake places his hand over entirety of his twin’s face, pressing him through and back into his own seat. “None of your business, fuck off.”

You laugh at their antics, knowing in the back of your mind that you had better get used to it. You feel the air kick on again, fiercely blowing the freezing cold air directly onto you. You shiver a little, balling yourself up and pulling your sleeves closely in toward you again.

“You want my jacket?” Jake asks, already starting to pull it from his shoulders.

“No! No no no, thank you, but I’m fine, really.” The last thing you need is that right off that bat. A bad look. Day one. Nope.

“Seriously, I run naturally hot. Take it.” He replies.

“Oh yeah? Hence all your layers?” You tease, repositioning in your seat.

“It’s a fashion statement, thank you very much.” He bites. “All about comfort for me.”

Gotta change the subject.

“So tell me something I should know about your brothers. Something that would give me brownie points if I wanted to say…impress them with my craft service skills…” you press, giving him a new challenge.

“Wow um, let’s see…” he brings his fingers to his chin and thinks hard, and you can’t help but feel endeared by the fact that he truly wants to help you out. “Josh stays away from chocolate and dairy and sweets and all that, but his guilty pleasure is those cotton candy flavored grapes. Weird, I know.”

“Oh my god, those are so nasty!” you laugh, but still take note.

“Danny would be over the moon if you surprised him with salsa verde Doritos, and Sam drinks kombucha more than the normal human should.” he finishes with a stern nod.

“Got it. I think I can make most of that happen, aside from the grapes…”

“He would kiss you right on the lips, I’m telling you.” Jake giggles again, and you notice how he lights up when he talks about them.

“So Josh is the dramatic softie, what about the other two?” you ask.

“Sam’s kinda serious but he’s playful when he wants to be. Sneaky, too. Daniel’s always into something, always busy. Man doesn’t like to sit still,” he concludes, and you commit it all.

“And what about you?” you ask, feeling your stomach flip for some reason.

“I thought you said you wanted to get your own versions of us,” he quipped back, parroting your words from earlier. Damn, you had said that.

You toss your hair behind your shoulder. “I did but…You’ll tell me all about them, but not about yourself?”

He crunches his lips together as his eyes scan your face. It makes you a little uncomfortable, how hard he’s really looking at you, but you let him. Stopping him would be a sin you weren’t ready to commit just yet.

“That’s right.”

The two of you drift off into silence again as the minutes tick by, thankfully not being embarrassingly interrupted by Josh anymore. You decide that you want to listen to some music, so you reach into the pocket of your bag and pull out your AirPods, slipping the left one in first followed by the right. You pull up your music and begin flipping through your playlists, searching for something to match the relaxed tone of the hour. Truly, you feel like you could easily drift off to sleep.

You find a nice quiet playlist and curl up in your seat, halfway reluctant you didn’t take Jake’s jacket, but also proud of yourself for saying no. You’re fucking freezing.

You turn your head to the side and close your eyes, ready to drift off into another world.

You’re jolted awake by turbulence, the plane shaking again as you wake up and get your bearings. “Shit,” you breathe as you sit up straighter, remembering exactly where you are. You notice that in your slumber, your head had fallen against Jake’s shoulder. Fuck. Fuck fuck.

The turbulence only lasts a few seconds before it evens out again, and the calmness returns to your body. You glance at Jake, seeing him looking a little drowsy and shaken, too.

“Jake, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, why didn’t you wake me? I—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I kinda dozed off, too,” he replies, stretching his arms high above his head without a care…not like he didn’t just have a stranger asleep with her head on his shoulder.

You look down, noticing that in the time you had drifted off, Jake had covered you with his coat.

You panic, scrambling a little as you work to pull it from your body before anyone notices.

His hands are quickly on yours, stopping your action. “Leave it, Y/N. You were shivering in your sleep…you can’t tell me you aren’t cozy right now…” his voice is barely a whisper, and the warmth of his hands grazing overtop of yours, even for a second, is enough to give you a whole other type of chill.

“Yeah, I—I am warm…” you can’t deny that your body temperature has increased by at least a couple of degrees, and your fingers don’t feel like they’re going to get frostbite anymore. The jacket is heavy, heavier than it looks, and it smells like fresh pine needles and woodsy body soap. Just like…him?

“See?” he growls, backing away. “Just stay put.”

Stay put? You want to bite back with something that will put him in his place; you explicitly told him you didn’t want his jacket, and he covered you anyway. While you were unconscious. While you couldn’t turn down the offer.

…But you’re so warm, now. Your tense muscles are finally relaxing. The frigidity of the space has suddenly turned into a toasty furnace with a crackling fire.

Okay, but just until we land…

“What are you listening to?” Jake asks as he stretches again. You turn your phone for him to see, showing a generic playlist of Peaceful Sleep Songs lighting up your lock screen.

“Agh, no, what is that shit?” Jake snatches your phone from your hand, quickly flipping the screen to unlock with your face before he begins shuffling through your playlists.

“What are you doing?!” you yelp, reaching for your phone back. He raises his free hand to the air, stopping you from taking it.

“Aht aht… I’m finding you something better to listen to. Don’t worry about it.” You suddenly hear the quiet music in your ears switch to something else, something you knew for a fact you hadn’t ever heard before. You give it a second as he turns the volume up a few notches, and you realize that it is most definitely brand new to you.

It’s a solemn, tense-feeling piano beat, followed in by guitar. Lyrics only come in after a minute and a half or so. It sounds like growling, deep and hollow and a bit scary, but beautiful nonetheless. He’s watching your face as you experience it, quickly pressing pause as the song comes to a close.

“What was that?” you ask, realizing you had really enjoyed it.

“That was a song called Intro, by Alt-J. I know you’ve heard of Alt-J.” he says as he goes back to work on the phone.

You slowly shake your head from side to side. “Can’t say I have, actually.”

His jaw goes slack as his eyebrows raise in disbelief. “What? Like, never?”

You feel your cheeks turning pink at the thought of a literal rockstar calling you out on your lack of music knowledge.

“I don’t think so! That’s not what I normally listen to…don’t judge me,” you laugh, reaching for your phone again.

He swats your hand away. “Ohh no, little fledgling. You’re listening to this. This is the good shit…” he presses play again as a twinkling high-pitched voice comes through your ears. It’s just jumbled words, no backing music or tune. The acapella strikes you as strange at first, until the end when it changes tone a bit, and it’s almost as if the lyrics are giving you advice you didn’t ask for. Warning you of something new and exhilarating, or better yet, dangerous and foreboding. It almost feels as if a black cloud has overcome you, only for a split second, letting you feel the nonexistent pokes and pinches that come along with the emotion of worry.

The song flows directly into another now, one layered with a lot more sound, and it pulls you from that odd headspace the previous had put you in. You lean over the armrest, looking at the screen to see the title Tessellate. You’ve never heard anything like this kind of music before, and you wonder why Jake chose this particular artist.

“This is one of their more popular ones, like radio popular, but it’s still one of my favorites on this album. Here in a second you’ll hear it slow down—”

You stop him by pulling your right earbud out, shoving it in his hand. “Shh, you can talk me through the songs later. Let me listen.”

He shuts his mouth, giving you a sweet grin as he takes the bud, placing it in his own ear and pressing play again. You continue on through the album, each song something brand new to you, a genre you’d really never delved into but wish you had, now. It’s enthralling, different, and full of sounds that make your mind sway and swim through mixtures of color and gray.

You watch as Jake’s fingers tap along exactly with the beat of each song perfectly, down to a tee. The words don’t make much sense to you, and you can hardly distinguish what the singer is saying, but you know that Jake will give you a rundown of it all as soon as time allows him. You don’t know much about him, but his persistence is already apparent. You glance to see his eyelashes hitting his cheeks, his head barely bobbing side to side as he feels the music. You find yourself envious that he can draw inspiration and act on it, turning it into art of his own, whereas all you can do is sit back and listen to it.

Every couple of minutes he perks up from his meditation and adds new songs from their other albums onto the little playlist he’s started for you. You can’t quite make out what he’s titled it, but you can tell it's an emoji of some sort. His thumb flips and flies with precision across your screen as he scrolls and adds songs, and you have to admit, you’re a little excited to get your phone back and learn just what he’s creating for you. Especially for you.

You take a quick deep breath as you recenter yourself, catching your eyes drifting over his hand as he grips your phone. The veins in his hand roll over his knuckles, and you can just barely see the scuffed and calloused ends of his fingertips. Dial it the fuck back Y/N, remember the rules.

“Oooh, this is another one of my favorites,” he remarks, his mouth fairly close to your ear as he tries not to raise his voice over the volume of the music. He turns the screen a little so you can see the title, Taro. “You haven’t— You didn’t come to any of our shows last year by chance, did you?”

You feel a big pang of guilt shoot through your chest, remembering that you had actually been invited by some friends to see them way back when, but you’d turned the invitation down, not knowing who they even were at the time. You shake your head from side to side. “No, I didn’t.”

“This is one of the ones we play to the crowd before we go on. We all love it, it’s a sad, sad love tale based on true events. That’s the cool thing about this group, their lyrics are never really about what you think they are. They’re storytellers, a bit like Josh is, if you think about it. Their themes and over arcs are just…mind blowing sometimes.” Jake’s voice is a tiny murmur in your ear as your shoulders lean on one another’s again, still very taken with the music flowing through your ear. “We grab a lot of inspo from them, sonically and melodically…” You can feel his breath on your cheek, and you find yourself wondering what it would taste like…

“Here, read along with the lyrics. Try not to cry.” He hands your phone back, letting you keep up with the words floating down your screen. And he’s right, it’s heartbreaking without even knowing the context.

“Wow…That was really beautiful,” you choke, realizing the depth of the story of the song.

“Yep. Good shit, I told you.” He whips his hand around and takes the phone back as the next song comes in and warms your bones up again. You can feel the bare skin of his elbow brushing against yours, realizing that he was telling the truth about being naturally warm-bodied. Suddenly you don’t feel so bad about cuddling up under his coat.

He opens your contacts app and adds himself, placing the sword emoji beside his name. He smirks as he hands the phone back.

“Added your phone number, huh?” you ask rhetorically.

He sucks his teeth as he cracks his fingers. “Yep. How else will I let you know what I might need? Plus, never know when you might need to call me.”

—

You watch the signs overhead illuminate, a gentle tone ringing through the cabin as the Captain starts to make an announcement. You pause the song and pull your AirPod out, watching Jake do the same.

“Hey folks, this is your Captain speaking. Just want to let you know we will be landing in Hamburg shortly. I’d expect to be on the ground in the next ten minutes or so, putting us about fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, so sit tight and we’ll have you on the ground in a few. Attendants please prepare for arrival.”

You turn to look at Jake, shrugging as you slide your AirPod back into the case. He raises his eyebrows and drops his jaw. “But we aren’t done! Wait! Hold on!”

He grabs your phone again, and from what you can see he is adding more songs to your playlist. You watch as he scrolls through various different albums by different artists, adding songs as quickly as he can. You smirk as you catch sight of the emoji he’s chosen, the chick icon, a playful nod at his earlier fledgling comment. He peeks over at you every few seconds, trying his best to hurry so you can pack up your things, but in a last effort you watch as he adds himself as a collaborator to the playlist.

You raise an eyebrow to him as he hands your phone back to you, shrugging with a soft laugh. You feel your insides swirl at the sight of his smile, and you turn your eyes to your phone scrolling through the songs on the playlist. You turn back to him and nod, a silent agreement that you will listen just as you feel the plane starting to land.

“I wanna keep adding songs for you to listen to, fledgling. If you want me to, of course…”

You nod. “Of course I do. School away, Jake,” you reply with an air of playful annoyance.

He chuckles. “I plan to.”

As you brace for the landing you grip your hands into the arm rests, letting go of the soft worn in corduroy fabric you’d been playing with for the last hour. Your eyes squint closed as the plane touches down, jolting everyone forward in their seats. Jake grabs his phone as the plane slows down, flashing his screen at you to show a local time of 12:13AM.

“I see some jet lag in our future,” you smile, sliding his jacket off of your arms. You fold it the best you can and hand it back to him, almost sad you have to give it back to him. “Thanks again for that.”

“Oh yeah, no problem.” He accepts it graciously from you, letting out a soft breath as he unfolds it and slides it back over his shoulders. It fits his personality well, soft and sturdy, worn in and weathered. He flips his hair out from beneath the collar, a barely there smell of peppermint passing through the air. You pull your gaze away from him just as you see his cheeks start to blush from your gaze. You lock your phone and stick it into your backpack at your feet, wondering how in such a short amount of time Jake has managed to infiltrate your thoughts so completely.

JAKE POV

As she turns to grab her bag you open your phone, tapping on the notification that she has added you to her playlist. You accept the invitation with a sly smile before sliding your phone back into your coat pocket. It smells like her now, soft and floral, very different than anything you were used to. Your mind was already circling with things you wanted to add to that playlist when you got a minute, finding it was harder than you thought to think of songs on the fly.

The first few rows begin to file out of the plane and you watch as Paul stands and turns to look at Y/N, motioning to her to meet up with him after she got off the plane. She nods her head and slides her backpack straps over her shoulders, waiting for her turn to stand.

“For jet lag…You know…Um, Benadryl,” you offer, your voice a little soft and unsure.

She turns to look at you, pinching her brows together in question.

“When you get to your room tonight, take a Benadryl. Should knock you out until the morning and help you get on a normal schedule. Works for me, at least.” you finish, nodding to her as the people in front of you stand to leave.

“Thanks, Jake.” She smiles and nods, sliding out of her seat to walk down the aisle.

You watch her as she walks up the jet bridge towards the gate, seeing Paul waiting for her in the doorway. The two walk together through the airport, finding it fairly quiet at this hour as most of the flights have landed for the night. You push your sunglasses down onto your nose just as you feel Josh walking up behind you.

He gives you a gentle nudge in the side to get your attention. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Easy flight,” you answer, still listening and catching bits and pieces of whatever Paul is saying to Y/N, prepping her for the hotel check in and details for the morning. She is typing notes on her phone as she walks, barely looking where she is going, clearly trusting Paul to look out for her more than she should.

You tune out Josh as he rambles on about the flight, Ty jumping in every few words with a retort or a laugh. Your eyes don’t seem to leave her though, watching her talk, watching her walk, shit, just watching her. You can’t seem to shake it. You’d never met anyone like her before. Someone you were so instantly taken with. You wanted to know every single detail about her.

You feel Josh’s hand as it comes up to your chin, pressing it upward and forcing your jaw shut. “There, you seemed to have dropped that.”

You turn to him angrily, knowing what he’s insinuating, giving him a hard elbow to the arm. “Fuck off, Josh.”

He laughs and pushes you with his shoulder, readjusting his backpack on his other shoulder. “Just an observation, that’s all. Can’t say I blame you, though.”

“Oh are you talking about Jake and Y/N?” Sam interjects, stepping up on your right side in a lanky stride.

Josh nods, laughing slightly, wanting to keep this banter going. Asshole.

“Can you two knock it off, fuck,” you growl, hoping she can’t hear them. Your eyes are locked in on her again, and much to your relief she is talking to Paul and can’t hear a word they’re saying.

“He didn’t shut up the entire flight. Lots of whispering and giggles from up there. I didn’t sleep at all. But I did hear his monologue about the genius of Alt-J for the fourth time this year.” Josh quips, earning a laugh from everyone around you.

“Fuck you again, Josh,” you spit, annoyed at his lack of respect.

“Damn, so you’re trying to scare her away, then?” Sam teases, giving you a sideways grin.

You shake your head and push past them forcefully as you step off the escalator into baggage claim, not wanting to engage in this conversation a second longer. Especially because you were afraid they might be right.

—

“Shit, not again,” Danny mumbles as you all approach the baggage claim area, immediately noticing a group of fans obviously waiting for your arrival. You take a deep, preparational breath as you can’t help but run into them on your path to the carousel.

“Let’s just get it over with,” you hear Josh complain as he puts on his faux-happy face. You all love meeting fans. Truly, watching their faces light up when they see you is something that is unparalleled. But coming off of a long flight and already feeling the effects of the time difference, starving, and ready for a drink usually puts all of you in a mood that is generally irked overall. But you always suck it up; this is the life you signed up for.

This time though, unlike most encounters with fans, is enough to make your general irritation quickly turn into intense aggravation. They swarm you, hugging and pulling and invading your spaces in an extremely unwelcome attempt at meeting each of you. You feel surrounded, and unable to get to your luggage in time before it rounds the carousel again. You keep your cool, just as you always do, curtly smiling and pulling away as your body instructs you to. You pause for quick photos as your eyes search the spinning luggage again. You see your brothers out of the corners of your eyes doing the same… quick ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet you’s’ as the crowd just seems to get bigger and bigger.

Just as your eyes finally fall on your suitcase, you hear a loud clack as you turn and notice someone has knocked Sam’s phone out of his hand. It lands face down on the tile floor, likely cracked and scuffed from the people crowding around you all. You watch as Sam’s face turns up in annoyance, his eyes closed as he composes himself.

“Okay, that’ll be enough!” You hear Dean, your security, bellow across the crowd. “Please step away, no more photos, no more photos…” Dean makes his way into the center of group, quickly dispersing them. You give Sam a quick look that says, ‘get your phone, let’s go’, and soon enough you’re rolling your suitcase through the middle of the crowded room.

You see Y/N in the crowd, finding her to be a little flustered from the encounters, but alright nonetheless. You lock eyes with her as she mouths, ‘Are you okay?’, and you nod her off with a look of, ‘Yeah, this happens all the time.’

Your team is surrounding you as you quickly walk through the hallway toward the exit, ready to hop into an unmarked van and zip away to your hotel. You’re still being followed as you make it through the back exit doors.

When you’re finally safe outside the pickup area, everyone breathes a sigh of relief. “Fuck, that was a bad one.” Danny says. “Sam, how's your phone?”

“It’s ok, just a little scuff in the corner but it’ll be fine,” he answers, scanning his eyes over it.

“Guys, keep your phones on, Wes will be texting you tomorrow with where we’re headed next. Get some sleep and something to eat.” Paul instructs as everyone loads their things into the vans. Y/N is standing nearby, and you can tell that she feels a little out of place as she awkwardly crosses one ankle over the other. You take a quick opportunity to knock your elbow into her side, feeling comfortable enough to do that now that you’d sat together so long on the plane, but she’s avoiding eye contact. You hope she doesn’t feel uncomfortable around you.

“Hey, thanks for letting me jam a little with you on the plane,” you say sheepishly. “Sorry if I overstepped any, but I really think you’ll like the music I added for you.”

Finally her composure opens a little. “No, no! You didn’t… overstep. I’m actually excited to hop in my big cozy hotel bed and listen again.” Her words make your stomach fall with nerves, but you quickly suppress it.

“Y/N, you ready?” you hear Wes ask her as he passes by, heading toward another van.

“Yep, all set!” she answers as she follows him through the dwindling group. She hops into another van, and you worry she’ll be staying at another hotel. For a second you think you won’t see her as much if she is. You climb inside the van and slam the door closed behind you, seeing the group of fans with their phones pressed to the windows of the airport. You plop back down into the middle seat beside Josh, and finally take a full breath of relief.

“Fuck! I swear to god if I’m getting sick again…” Josh says as he bangs his head against the headrest behind him. You scoot sideways on the van’s bench seat, staying as far away from him as you can.

“Are you serious?!” Danny says from the seat behind you. “You need a mythical medicine man or some shit.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, just feel a little congested. I’ll send Y/N out on her first mission for some meds after we get settled in the hotel.” Josh answers, and you keep yourself pressed against the van’s window, purposefully turning your back to him. Can’t have that again. You realize, though, that of course she’ll be in the same hotel as you, management always is.

The vision of a worried Y/N replays in your mind, seeing her face full of concern as the fans did all but ambush you earlier. You shake the thought, suddenly having a realization that, most likely, everyone else is having, too.

“I think we should amp up security,” you blurt. “No offense to Dean, but he’s only one guy. There are more than ten of us…” you’re met with a little bit of silence, so you press on. “Just while we’re over here, at least. We’re going to be separated a lot, and I think it would be a good idea if Dean wasn’t being pulled in all different directions.”

“Don’t you think we should have thought of that before we got over here, Jake?” Josh counters.

“I’ve actually been thinking it for a while. Today just…made me feel like it’s necessary, now,” you respond quietly. What could it hurt? You have the funds, and a few extra eyes on you and your team couldn’t be a bad thing.

You hear a collective sigh from your brothers, until Sam finally speaks. “Yeah, I kinda felt a little overwhelmed when I dropped my phone and it got kicked away from me. First world problems, I know, but—”

“But someone could have picked it up, and ran off with it. Gotten access to your private information. Stepped on it and shattered it. We’re probably just paranoid, but I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a bad idea…” you suggest.

“I like the idea.” Josh adds. “Wish we would have talked about it sooner, but I’m sure Paul could get something arranged for us. Those security companies are always looking for overseas gigs.”

“Daniel, you agree?” you ask, twisting your body to the backseat.

“Yeah, I do, actually,” he decides.

“Good. It’s settled, then. We’ll talk to Paul first thing in the morning,” you say, happy with your decision of bringing it up. All you can see is a memory of Y/N’s scared face replaying over and over in your mind, and you just can’t seem to shake it.

You quickly curse yourself, you’re in no headspace to be worrying about a woman right now. You’ve gotta keep your head on straight. Tour hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already letting a new girl give you butterflies. You audibly scoff at yourself as you lean your elbow on the window, looking out at the bustling streets outside. You throw your earbuds in, letting the tangle of cords just be what it is, and you pull your phone out to switch the volume up. Of course, Alt-J pops onto your screen the second you look at it, and you wonder if she’s already listening to them, too.

The city lights are twinkling through the light drizzle of rain, and you finally feel your bones starting to settle into tiredness. Though your mind is racing with excitement to play shows, you let yourself ignore the thoughts and relax into the music blessing your ears. Some room service and a down comforter is calling your name.

—--

HER POV

The shrill sound of your hotel room telephone wakes you from a half-sleep. What the hell? What time is it? You don’t remember falling asleep, but the loud TV and the lights still illuminating the room signify you must have accidentally dozed off.

“Hello?” you answer, realizing that no matter the time, duty calls.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Paul. Sorry if I woke you…”

“No, you’re fine. I’m awake,” you lie.

“Cool. Um, Josh was wondering if you’d run to the pharmacy down the street and pick up the meds I just texted you. He said he would go get them himself, but he’s doing a lung steaming treatment or… something. I dunno. But if you don’t care, here’s your first assignment! I know it’s late, but the pharmacy is apparently open all night.”

You glance at your watch and see that it’s already nearing 1:00AM. “Sure! I don’t care at all. Tell him I’ll have them to him ASAP.”

“Will do. Hey, turn your location on for me and Wes, okay? Be safe, thanks again,” Paul hangs up the phone before you can say goodbye, and within seconds you’re crawling out of bed and putting your pants back on. Your stomach growls as you realize you fell asleep without eating anything. You make a plan to make a quick trip to the pharmacy, deliver Josh his medicine, then go back out to find something to eat before you end up eating the bag of peanuts you stuffed in your bag on the plane.

You take a second to check your messages, finding you have three unread messages from Ruth. In the mess and confusion of the day, and the time difference, you’ve been thrown for a loop. You shoot her a quick few texts to let her know you’re alive and well, but you leave out the sweet little detail that you’d shared AirPods with the guitarist of the band you’re touring with. You’d get into that part later.

The walk to the pharmacy is short, thankfully, and you find the things Josh needs without much of an issue at all. The city is still fairly crowded with people at this hour, and you make sure to track your steps backward just the way you came to get back to the hotel. Your stomach rumbles again, and the smells coming from the various restaurants around you have your head spinning with hunger.

A few quiet knocks on Josh’s hotel room door bring him to answer it within seconds, and his warm composure instantly makes you feel welcome. “Y/N! Thank you so much, seriously. I need to knock this shit out before it gets any worse, and I think you just saved the day,’ he gushes as you see clouds of steam pouring out of his cracked bathroom door, and smell the sweet scent of herbal fragrances as they waft through your nose. “You have any trouble finding the place? Google said it was close by…”

“Anytime, Josh. And no, actually. It was right around the corner,” you answer, handing him the bag of meds.

“Good. Well I won’t bother you again, you heading to sleep?” he asks with a warm tone.

You bite the inside of your lip as your stomach screams at you again. “No, I passed a little pub on my walk, and it smelled amazing as I walked by. Think I’m gonna go have a drink and get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Go feed yourself, love. Enjoy the city. We’ve got a long day tomorrow!”

“Will do, see you tomorrow!” you say as he closes the door.

“Thanks again! See ya!”

You make your way to the elevator and down to the bottom floor, digging your phone out of your pocket to check your location and make sure the pub is still going to be open at this hour. A quick search for Le Marmitone tells you the kitchen doesn’t close for another hour, so you pick up your pace and head straight for the pub.

The wind and rain have picked up a little bit, and you thank yourself for adding a few layers on before you left your hotel room earlier. The cold air bites at your cheeks as you meander through the people still out walking the streets, and the smell of the food drifting on the wind draws you straight back to the pub. Upon entering the double doors, you find that it is actually a nice restaurant with a bar.

You grab a seat at the corner of the bar, glancing to the coolers and shelves to see what your drink options are.

“Evening madame, here is a menu. Can I get you a beverage?” a man in a sport coat asks as he hands you the shiny white menu. His accent is thick, but you can understand him fairly easily.

“Hello. Could I have a whiskey soda and a water, please?” you ask as you remove your heavy jacket and hang it over the back of the stool. You look over the menu choices and decide on a bowl of soup and a sandwich, more of a lunch option, but a steaming hot bowl of soup sounds exactly like what you need right now.

There are a few people still scattered throughout the restaurant, most closing their tabs and leaving for the night. There are a few patrons still at the bar, stuck in conversations with one another or watching whatever game is playing on the big screen.

The bartender sets your drinks in front of you as you tell him your food order, and you pull out your phone to begin fishing through emails and making your daily checklists. The Whiskey drink is strong, but not too strong, and you let yourself enjoy the immediate warmth it sends coursing through your veins.

You fill your stomach up as far as it will allow you, and you decide that one more drink probably won’t hurt, as the place doesn’t close up for another hour. You’re enjoying yourself, basking in the calm before the storm that is going to hit promptly at 10AM tomorrow.

“‘Scuse me, sir. I’ll take one more drink and my check, please,” you alert the bartender. He nods and turns to concoct your drink and print your tab. When he returns, he plops a bright red maraschino cherry onto the top.

“Gentleman at the end of the bar says this one is on him, ma’am.” He places the white slip of paper in front of you as he removes your dishes, and disappears. Your eyes slowly drift to the left, landing on an older gentleman who had been lingering at the end of the bar since you’d gotten here. His friends have since left, leaving him to finish off a few more rounds by himself.

He smiles hard when you notice him, and slides off his stool, stumbling his way toward you. You feel your heart rate pick up as he approaches you, and you remember that you do have mace in your purse, should you need it, Ruth’s one request.

“Hello, lovely. Enjoy that drink on me this evening,” he slurs with a heavy accent. He sits down in the stool beside you, and suddenly you’d rather not have that second drink, after all. You glance at the drink, and back to him, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in his presence.

“Um, thank you, really. But I—I’ve actually got to go. It’s getting to be later than I thought…” you lie, pulling out some cash from your purse to pay the bill.

“Nonsense! Have the drink, beautiful. Tell me, where are you from? Your accent tells me it’s somewhere far away from here…” he presses, pushing the drink toward you. His hands are giant, and covered in dark hair. He has a beard of the same color that reaches almost down to his stomach, and you can smell the alcohol radiating from his breath.

“The States,” you say bluntly, avoiding eye contact with him as the bartender is nowhere to be found. You immediately kick yourself for not telling Dean where you had run off to, all by yourself. You know better than this.

“Obviously, sweetheart. But where?” he asks.

“Um, a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it,” you go on, beginning to pull your jacket on and leave the money on the bar top. Suddenly the man’s hand is on the back of the stool, holding it steady as you try to turn it.

“I’d like to hear all about it, love,” he growls, and you suddenly feel very intimidated. There is no one else around, no other patrons at the bar, you couldn’t feel the presence of another human or employee running about, and you contemplated making a run for it.

“I promise I’m not here to scare you, just talk. That’s all I’d like to do…” he goes on, backing his hand away from the chair as he notices your panic. Finally, the bartender makes his way back, but instead of taking your check, he continues cleaning and re-stocking for the night. You’re alone, and uncomfortable. Why did you do this to yourself?

Suddenly you remember that Jake put his number in your phone. You know you can’t get a hold of Dean at this hour, especially since you didn’t tell him you were going anywhere. You can’t make that bad of a first impression before your first day even really happens.

You quickly turn your attention to your phone, trying to figure out what to do, but then it hits you. You type in the name, taking a deep breath before sending Jake a risky text as a last ditch effort.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone, hmm?” the man asks as you turn away from him to type as quickly as you can.

You

1:47AM: Jake, are you awake?

Your foot taps nervously on the floor, the man next to you doing everything in his power to corner you into this seat. A text bounces back after a minute, and you feel your shoulders relax just a touch.

Jake 🗡

1:49AM: How did you get this number?

You

1:50AM: You put it in my phone today on the plane. Are you busy?

Jake 🗡

1:51AM: Oh, hey. No, I’m just getting ready to go to bed, why what’s up? You okay?

You

1:52AM: No. I don’t think so. I hate to ask this, I know it’s late. Is there any way you could come meet me? I left to get something to eat and didn't tell anyone and this guy here has me cornered into my seat and I don't think he is gonna let me leave alone.

Jake 🗡

1:53AM: Share your location, I’m leaving now.

You

1:54AM: Thank you. I owe you.

“Did you hear me sweetheart? I said, are you expecting someone?” the man asks, a sly grin on his face as he leans closer to you.

You quickly glance back down at your phone, sharing your location with Jake and hoping he can find you. You lock your phone and put it in your purse, pretending you’re a lot less anxious than you actually are.

“Actually, yes, I am. My…boyfriend is on his way. He’ll be here in just a second.” you lie, doing your best to speak confidently. “I should probably step outside to meet him.”

“No, no, stay, you haven’t touched your drink,” he says, gesturing to the glass of alcohol. “I know a place down the street, stays open late, too.”

You feel your skin start to grow clammy, the man's intentions suddenly becoming very clear. Your heart is pounding as you try to talk your way out of the situation. You clear your throat, and just as you start to speak you see the front door of the restaurant open. Jake steps inside, looking side to side, his eyes quickly scanning the entirety of the restaurant until he locks eyes with you.

He nods to the host at the door as he walks toward you, wearing the same clothes from earlier but now his hair is a little messier. You know he got out of bed to do this.

You instantly stand from your seat as Jake steps up, reaching towards him as he settles himself between you and the man.

“Hey baby, you finally made it,” you coo, your pleading eyes locked on Jake’s as he wraps his arm around your shoulder in a welcoming hug. You can smell him, the cologne lingering on his coat. The same coat that was wrapped around you only hours ago.

He pulls away and drops his arms to his side as you turn to him. You stare at him just a second longer, hoping he can hear the words you are screaming in your mind. He blinks and turns to look at the man before letting his eyes flick back to you.

“Yeah, yeah, of course babe, sorry I was late,” he pauses, turning to face the drunk man beside him. “Who is this?”

You let out a small breath of relief as he silently agrees to play along with you. “Oh, he came over from the bar. He sent this drink over, but I just can’t drink it. I already had one and you know I work in the morning,” you answer, hoping he is understanding what you’re trying to say. “Do you want it?”

He looks so effortless standing there with a hand in his jacket pocket. He tilts his head and scrunches his nose just a bit before answering, “Ahh, nah…It looks like a watered down well pour and I just had one myself before I got here. I’m alright. We should probably get going though, we have an early day tomorrow and it’s fairly late already.”

Yes.

“Oh, you two are terrible liars. He isn’t your boyfriend, is he sweetheart?” the man asks, scoffing at Jake. “You should come with me, I can show you the city better than this fool.”

“That’s an awfully brazen assumption, sir, I must say.” Jake argues, pulling his hand from his coat pocket and grabbing yours. You suck in a harsh breath feeling his fingers lace with yours. Fake or not, there was definitely a new feeling swirling through your veins.

“Look at her, she’s flustered. This woman hasn’t ever been touched by you. It’s written all over her face.” he continues, looking Jake over.

“Your boyfriend, your husband, he isn’t any of those things. I don’t see a ring on your finger, and I don’t know how they do things where you’re from, but in this country, you my dear, are fair game.”

You want to snap back. The audacity is astounding. You start to step forward, ready to lay into him, but you feel Jake’s hand squeeze yours and you know he’s telling you to follow his lead this time.

“She is with me, sir,” Jake spits. “And it would be in your best interest to back off.”

“Oh, is that right?” the man counters, standing up from his seat, giving him a few good inches over Jake. Jake didn’t falter though. Of course he didn’t. He knew that didn’t matter.

“Kiss her, then. If she’s yours, kiss her,” he quips.

“Absolutely not, I don’t have to prove anything to you, and quite frankly sir, it’s none of your business,” Jake snaps, you can tell he’s starting to get mad, his hand gripping yours a little harder. “Let’s go, babe.”

You stand firm next to him, not letting your face show a single waiver of emotion as the man waits to see if you’ll crack. Jake starts to walk away pulling you behind him, but before you can move the man grabs your other arm, taking both of you by surprise.

“Stay, sugar. Let a real man take you home.”

Jake snaps his head around, hearing the words fall from the man's drunken mouth. For a minute you’re scared. You don’t know how Jake is going to react, his jaw is hard set and his nostrils flared in anger. You hear him curse under his breath as he shakes his head.

“You know what? Fuckin’ fine…” he challenges, looking at the man then to you, nodding just enough for you to notice.

Just as you feel the anxiety of what he is about to do bloom in your chest, he reads your body language, letting a sweet and quiet ‘S’okay’ slip from his lips.

Your eyes widen a little as you realize what’s about to happen, but take solace in the fact that he’s likely just as nervous as you are. He stops, pulling you in towards him as his hand grabs at your waist.

His fingers grip into your hairline as he tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes over your lips, hot and wet as your hands slide up his body to rest on his chest. You kiss him back, you’re trying to sell this as the real thing, but also partly because you just want to. You try not to think about that part too much as you let your tongue flick against his just for a second before pulling it back. You feel the vibration on your lips as the softest groan leaves his mouth just as he pulls away from you.

Your lips are wet with the taste of him and your chest is heaving as Jake rubs his lips together and clears his throat. He turns to the man who is standing there staring at the two of you, a bit of challenge in his tone as he speaks. “You good now?”

The man scoffs, mumbling a curse as he bats at the air between you. You feel yourself relax in Jake’s grip as the man turns to walk back to his original place at the bar. A quiet ‘fuck’ leaves Jake’s mouth as he turns his attention back to you, stepping back and releasing his grip on you.

His eyes search yours just as yours search his, both of you unsure what to say. Instead he looks over to the man again, nodding his head to him as he grabs your hand again and guides you towards the door.

“You okay?” he asks, opening the door and letting you walk out into the drizzle. You pull your jacket closed across your front, the cold air chilling your skin.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Thank you– for that,” you murmur as he steps up next to you. He grabs your hand again, lacing his warm fingers with your cold ones, taking you by surprise.

“Oh, it’s okay now Jake, he isn’t following us,” you offer, looking over your shoulder to check. He doesn’t drop your hand though, in fact you feel his fingertips brush across your knuckles, sending a whole different kind of chill through your body.

“I know,” he answers, smiling shyly as he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re positive he can see the blush that has taken over your cheeks, your mouth suddenly dry, and your mind unable to form a response. You feel the butterflies swirling around in your stomach as you walk towards the hotel, the rain starting to taper off finally.

“You can trust me, you know,” he says, his voice sincere as he guides you around puddles.

“I barely know you, Jake,” you smile, bumping your shoulder into his.

“For now,” he answers, squeezing your hand in his.

He opens the door to the hotel lobby, the warm air instantly hitting you. Jake drops your hand, your fingertips brushing against his. You kind of miss it, in a way you definitely shouldn’t be.

“Thank you again, for doing all of that. I’m really sorry. I fucked up, I won’t make that mistake again,” you say, watching him press the button for the elevator. Your eyes linger on his lips, a little pink from the cold air outside.

“It was no problem, I promise. Stop apologizing,” he pauses, motioning for you to step into the elevator. “Let me walk you to your room, what floor?” he asks, his finger hovering over the buttons.

“Oh, no it’s really okay, you don’t have to do that. I promise I’m good now,” you stammer, watching his lips turn up in a huff of laughter.

“Y/N, what floor?”

“Nine,” you squeak, your eyes fixated on the dimple in his cheek. You feel your skin growing warm just from looking at him, you feel like you might burst into flames just at the thought of how his lips felt on yours. Did you imagine that whole encounter? No way all of that just happened.

“Me as well,” he says, pressing the button as the doors close.

The two of you ride up in silence, casting each other the occasional glance every few seconds. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you're positive you stopped breathing. The elevator chimes as it reaches the ninth floor, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound.

He smiles at you again as the doors open, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him. “Your room number?”

“Um, I think I'm 924, all the way down,” you answer, your heart jumping in your chest.

He nods his head and puts a hand into his pocket. “Alright, I’m just up here in 915, but I’ll walk you down.”

“Jake you really don’t have to, you can just–”

He turns to you and laughs, shaking his head again. “Just let me.”

“Fine.” You huff a breath, pulling your own keycard from your purse. He walks only a step behind you, both hands in his pockets now as you step up to your door. You tap your key to the lock and hear it beep, signaling for you to enter. You turn to look at Jake, seeing a softness to his face you hadn’t noticed until now.

“Thank you, for…being such a gentleman,” you say playfully, smiling at him.

“My pleasure, Miss Y/N. There is some chivalry left in the world…” he answers, bringing his hand up to rub at his lips.

You start to enter your room, and hear him speak again, this time very quietly. “We’re not all bad.”

You turn around to see him shifting his weight still rubbing his fingers over his chin as if he expected you not to hear him.

“What?”

He hesitates as he makes eye contact with you, clearly shocked you heard him. You can tell he wants to say something but he’s holding back. Maybe you’ve spooked him.

He shakes his head with a smile, as if telling himself whatever he wanted to say was stupid. He pulls his phone and his keycard from his pocket and grips them in his hand. “Nothing, nothing, um, have a good evening. I will see you in the morning, I suppose.”

You nod once, giving him a sweet and appreciative smile, “See you in the morning.”

He lingers for just a moment, eyes locked on yours before flicking down to your lips. He catches himself and looks back at you before turning to head down the hallway. You shut the hotel room door and twist the lock, letting out the breath you had been holding with a gasp.

You spin around, letting your back press against the door as you sink down to the floor with a barely audible squeal. Holy. Shit. What the hell was that?

Pull yourself together Y/N.

You grab your purse and stand up, digging through it as fast as you can in search of your phone. You have no earthly idea what time it is in Nashville but you don’t care as you pull up your texts with Ruth, and begin furiously typing.

You

2:34AM: Without going into detail I definitely just kissed the guitarist 🫢

You toss your bag onto the chair and change into your pajamas, your blood still rushing around in your body as you try to calm your nervous system. A text bounces back, and you know it’s her.

Ruth

2:40AM: WITHOUT GOING INTO DETAIL???? KISSED? I just got to my desk!!!! I’m here. I’m sat. I’m listening. I want every single detail in a five paragraph essay with MLA formatting.

You

2:42AM: Lol it is 2:40 in the morning. I will call you tomorrow, which is really still today for you, but kinda tomorrow for me? I don’t know this is confusing but I will call you and give you the full run down because we also shared airpods on the plane and he made me a playlist? Love you goodnight!

Ruth

2:44AM: AIRPODS? A PLAYLIST??????

2:45AM: Y/N NO! GET BACK HERE

2:45AM: Okay. Hang on, I’m googling him. I need to see this man’s face

2:46AM: Wait there’s two guitarists

2:46AM: Ok one is the bassist HELLO?? You kissed HIM?! Aldjsfklsk

2:48AM: It’s totally fine and I am being so normal about this. Talk to you later, if I haven’t pulled all my hair out by then! I’ll be creeping his insta all day! Goodnight!

You laugh as you read her onslaught of messages, knowing that she is likely going out of her mind with possible scenarios. You make your way into the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth so that you can positively melt into the bed and sleep until your alarm forces you awake. You’re patting your face dry as your phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, but the noise it makes isn’t one you’re familiar with. You hang the towel on the ring and pick up your phone, seeing a notification come through that is brand new to you.

‘Jake Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

He what?

Now?

Your blood runs cold just seeing his name on your phone after…well…whatever that was.

You turn off the bathroom light, hesitantly sliding your finger across the notification, and letting it bring up the playlist. There at the very bottom you see that a new song was added two minutes ago. But not just any song, no. You know this one. You know this one well. You tap on the song hearing the familiar and haunting guitar riff of ‘Kiss Me’ by Sixpence None the Richer start to play through your phone speakers.

You can’t help but to laugh, a smile of shock has your jaw hanging wide open as you stand in your giant fancy hotel room, listening to what you consider to be a fairly romantic song sent straight to you from none other than your knight in shining, well, corduroy, armor. You couldn’t even picture him listening to this song, and somehow that almost made it a little better.

As the chorus plays you fall backwards onto your bed, the fluffy white sheets enveloping you as a giddy feeling swirls through your chest. He’s thinking about me. He’s thinking about that kiss. You felt guilty for thinking about it, but now? Now you weren’t feeling so guilty. He liked it just as much as you did, clearly.

Jake Kiszka liked kissing you.

You.

What?

You couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off of your face if you had to. You didn’t want to. This was quite possibly the most thrilling thing that has happened to you in months. Years! You had all but forgotten about creepy bar man at this point, but god you have half a mind to walk right back into that bar and shake his hand.

But, you knew you had to calm down. Take a breath. The song came to a close, leaving the hotel room silent. Your mind was still swimming in bliss, replaying the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his hands held yours, the way he smelled, the way his lips tasted, oh god… He was thinking about your kiss. He all but told you so.

You were also thinking about that kiss. He wanted you to know he was thinking about it. How can you– Oh. A sly grin spreads across your face as you type into the search bar.

You find the song you’re looking for, your thumb hovering over the add button as you try to talk yourself out of doing this. It could end badly, terribly, really. He is technically your boss, and you know you shouldn’t be doing this, but. Hey, you’re just the runner. You smile as you watch the little box pop up reading ‘Added’.

Your heart starts to pound. Did he get a notification? Is he asleep? Did he see it? Will he understand? Since when did you start communicating with people through song titles?

You rush back to the playlist scrolling to the bottom and smiling as you press play on the new addition to your shared playlist. It's mere seconds before ‘Do It Again’ by Steely Dan starts to play and you laugh, knowing you are absolutely crazy. Do it again, of course you wanted to do it again. God he probably thinks you’re such a loser. Plot twist, you are, but he doesn't have to know that yet.

You listen to the song, plugging your phone into the charger and turning off the lamp. You’ve always loved Steely Dan, it reminds you of your dad, but then again who doesn’t it remind of their dad? The song comes to a close, your giddy feeling finally starting to wear off as the exhaustion starts to step into its place. Your eyes feel heavy as you roll towards the nightstand to set your alarm, groaning at how soon it’s coming. You lock your phone and settle into the pillows, letting out a content sigh as you recap the day in all of its insane glory.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the glow illuminating the room for just a brief second. You freeze as you stare up at the ceiling, almost too scared to look. Did he add another song? What if he changed his mind? What if you overstepped? Oh god. You should not have done that. What were you thinking?

You suck in a breath as you grab your phone, nervously tapping the screen that shows no new songs added, but a text from Jake.

Jake 🗡

3:04AM: I fully intend to.

Oh, he definitely saw it.

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sacredjake · 8 months

Text

Heaven & Hell

pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!! basically p*rn, there is no plot. unprotected penetrative sex, cussing, impact play/spanking, edging, orgasm denial, sir kink, daddy kink, nicknames, hair pulling (f. receiving), oral (f. receiving), rough sex, cockwarming, squirting, dom!jake, eyeliner jake, sweaty jake, some fluff at the end. if i missed any pls let me know!

a/n: i intended to write this many moons ago and finally got around to it. this is inspired by end DIG jake and his smudged eyeliner. huge thank you to @gold-mines-melting for proof reading, coming up with the title, sending pic ideas and telling me to put in more sweaty jake and better descriptions of his beautiful tummy that we all love so much. love you so much, poppy, thank you<33333 also i wanna say that this is the first time @malany-gvf has not read one of my fics before it got posted so she will be going in blind hehe <3

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The show seemed to drag on for eternity, and you were grateful when the boys reappeared back on the stage for their encore. It's not that you weren’t enjoying the show. You were actually enjoying it a little too much. More specifically you were enjoying the way your hot rockstar of a boyfriend looked on the stage, his chest and neck glistening with sweat, his fingers moving furiously against the strings of his guitar, the way his hips were rocking into the instrument and his back arched, and the eyeliner that had smudged under his eyes.

Oh the eyeliner.

It was a shock to you just as much as it was to the fans that night when the curtain dropped. It was faint, just a little bit of black on his waterline, but my god was it driving you absolutely insane. And as the show went on, and the more Jake sweat, the more the eyeliner smudged making it almost unbearable. The throbbing between your legs wouldn't cease and only got worse, the thin material of your underwear sticking uncomfortably to your core with the arousal that pooled there.

When they started to play Highway Tune you decided it was time to make your way down to the floor so you could meet them as they walked back to their dressing rooms. You were able to catch the last half of the song after their jam session break, and you waited patiently for them to come off the stage. Just by the way Jake had been playing tonight you knew he would be looking for some relief, and that thought alone excited you.

They had finally finished their set and were coming off the stage, Jake was first, nearly sprinting down the steps. Instead of handing his guitar to his stagehand Jake kept walking, one hand on the neck of the guitar to keep it from swinging about. His eyes were glued to your frame the moment he saw you standing there, the eyeliner extenuating his piercing stare. When he caught up to you, his right arm grabbed your left bicep, pulling you with him down the hall.

You didn’t say a word, knowing all too well what was going on. His guitar was covering the erection that had gotten increasingly worse throughout the night which is why he didn’t hand it off. His fingers dug into the meat of your arm, threatening to leave bruises, and it only turned you on more. The thought of him needing release so badly, and what he was about to do to you in the arena dressing room.

Jake released your arm once at the door, his hand flying out to twist the knob. He guided you inside the room with a hand on your lower back, and quickly shut the door behind himself. You wandered over to the vanity in the dressing room, finding the eyeliner he used still laying on the counter.

“The eyeliner was a nice touch, baby. Made all the fans go crazy.” You picked the pencil up and rolled it between your fingers. You watched through the vanity as Jake carefully removed his beloved guitar from his body and placed it on the spare stand by the couch. With the guitar out of the way, you could see just how badly he was straining against his pants.

He was quiet as he came up behind you, his left hand gripping your hip, the right brushing against your neck lightly to move your hair, exposing your neck. You watched his reflection come closer to you, his mouth right by the shell of your ear. His lips skimmed across your skin leaving fiery heat in their wake trailing from your ear down to the junction of your shoulder and neck where he began to place wet, hot kisses against your skin.

“And what about you, sweetness? You seemed to be enjoying the show more than usual tonight. I bet those lacey panties of yours are just dripping.” The sensation of his breath fanning over your skin was making your head fuzzy, and your limbs weak. You barely registered the sound of the eyeliner pencil dropping onto the counter from your hand.

You reached behind your head, tangling your fingers into his hair as your head rested against his shoulder, your back arching to push your ass further into his erection. With both his hands on your hips, Jake gave you what you asked for, rutting his hips into the swell of your ass. A whimper flew from your lips unable to contain just how needy you were for him.

“Jake please, don’t tease me. I need it, need you, bad.” Your voice was breathy and cracked when it came out, sounding like nothing more than a sigh. His hands traveled to the front of your denim shorts, popping the button and pulling the zipper down slowly. Jake slid the material down your legs, letting them pool at your feet.

“Oh don’t worry,” He nipped at your neck before pulling away, “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

Jake pulled your hands away from him and placed them on top of the vanity, closer to the mirror. With the new placement of your hands he had you bent over the desk of the vanity, giving him the perfect view of your ass and your face. Not completely satisfied with your position, Jake swiftly nudged your feet wider apart with his own, spreading your legs for him.

“She’s all wet and ready for me, isn’t she?” He drug his middle finger over your clothed slit slowly. The minor action alone made your heat clench and your clit throb. You needed more, and Jake obliged. His finger peeled your underwear away from your sopping cunt, dropping them to lay with your shorts.

Once removed, his middle and ring fingers swept between your folds, stopping at your clit to rub tight, fast circles. His other hand was busy with the button and fly of his pants, doing his best to free his cock from its confines. You watched his dick slap against his tan and toned stomach that was still glistening with sweat as he pulled his boxers down. He grasped himself with his free hand and ran his tip through your folds, gathering your slick. Your high was building steadily the entire time, the coil in your core getting tighter and tighter. But in an instant it was gone. Jake’s ministrations on the hard bundle had stopped completely when he switched the hand holding his dick to pump himself a few times, covering him tip to base in your arousal.

You were ready to beg, and plead for him to do something, anything, when he slammed himself into you fully. The force with which he rocked into you caused your elbows to give out, your weight leaning solely on your forearms against the cold wood of the desk, and forcing your back to arch more.

“Fuck Jake!” You gasped in pleasure at the way he stretched and filled you just right. It was borderline painful, but that's what made it so delectable. His hips hammered into you, punishing and unrelenting. Just the way you liked.

You pressed your hand against the cool mirror to protect your head from being rammed into it, never taking your eyes off of Jake. Sweat trailed down his face and chest, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck. The scene was like one you had seen almost a hundred times, but not restricted solely to the bedroom. He looked as he did on stage not too long ago, brows furrowed and pinched together, mouth hung open slightly, hips thrusting and eyes glued to the source of his pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” He nearly growled watching his cock piston in and out of you, “God you take me so fucking well. Like you’re made just for me, isn’t that right?” He tore his eyes from where the two of you connected and met yours through the reflection in the mirror. All of the air had been sucked out of your lungs. The sight of his dark, lustful eyes rimmed in the black eyeliner had depleted you of all thoughts and oxygen. You could only stare back at him and nod with your mouth open.

Air quickly filled your lungs again with a sharp breath as his hand came down on your ass. The sound cracked loudly throughout the space, the motions of his hips never ceasing. You knew there was likely to be a full handprint, red and angry etched onto your skin.

“I’ll try again in case you didn’t understand the question,” He planted his hand on the vanity next to your elbow, the sweat that spilled down his chest now began to seep into your shirt as he leaned into you. His other hand gripped your hip, using it to hold you firm. You didn’t dare look away from him, holding eye contact while he spoke next to your ear.

“Who does this dripping cunt belong to?” He asked, his voice low and gruff. You couldn’t stop the groan that tumbled passed your lips even if you had tried.

Jake was always sweet and gentle with you. He would constantly whisper ‘i love you’s into your hair with a kiss, bring you flowers any chance he had, open doors for you and hold you like you were the most fragile thing on the planet. You knew he would never hurt you intentionally and loved the way he worships you.

Every now and then, though, you would get this side of Jake. He was demanding and rough and obscene. And you loved every single bit of it. This was exactly what you had been hoping for when you saw him on stage earlier in the night, and you were ready to feed into this side of him.

“You, daddy, it’s all for you. Only for you.” You cooed watching for his reaction. His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn the chocolate of his irises turned solid black.

In a split second he stood back up, both hands latched onto your waist. The speed on his hips never waivered, but his hands guided your hips to meet his with every thrust.

“Don’t you dare take your eyes off me, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded quickly.

Your promise was quickly forgotten as his hips drilled into you faster and harder. The pace he set was absolutely grueling. With each thrust you were brought closer and closer to your end, you couldn’t hold your head up any longer. Your chin dropped down to your chest, your eyes squeezing shut.

“What did I just fucking say?” Jake’s hand wrapped around your throat and pulled you upwards as he continued to fuck you mercilessly. When your back was fully flush against his chest, his hand moved upwards to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him in the mirror. With the new angle you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

Jake knew instantly. He knew your body better than anyone. Knew all the signs of your impending orgasm.

“I’m gonna-“ You were swiftly cut off with a smack to your left outer thigh.

“No you aren’t, you’re gonna be a good girl and you’re not going to cum until I say so.” Jake grit out through his clenched teeth next to your ear, hot breath cascading over your sticky skin.

Using the hold on your jaw he roughly pushed you back towards the counter top of the vanity. Your left arm shot down, your right catching on the mirror to stabilize yourself. Every breath, moan, and whine escaping your mouth fell against the mirror making it fog slightly.

“Jake please, please. I can’t- I need to- fuck, I need to cum, please.” You whine, giving him your best fucked-out-doe-eyes.

Jake’s only response was a groan coming from deep within his chest. His hand that was previously on your jaw wound tightly in your hair, drawing your head back sharply. The new pleasure that coursed throughout your body was heavenly. You felt him everywhere, and it was sinful bliss.

With the grip on your hair, he used the leverage to pull your body backwards to meet each unforgiving thrust of his hips. The only sounds that came from you now were choked back sobs as you did your best to keep your orgasm at bay. You did as you were told and kept your eyes on his reflection, his lust blown orbs staring back at you.

“Oh fuck babygirl, just like that.” The words came out low and breathy, sending you headfirst into your long awaited climax. Through your squinted eyes you watched as Jake’s head snapped back, his mouth hung open.

Before he reached his own climax, he pulled out of you quickly. His fingers circled your clit making sure to carry you through the rest of your high. When you finally came down, he turned you around pressing your ass to sit on the counter. Without warning Jake dropped to his knees in front of you and pulled your thighs around his shoulders, eyes boring into you the entire time.

He dragged his tongue slowly up your slit, gathering your release and groaning deeply, his eyes rolling backwards. The sight alone was enough to bring you to the edge so quickly. The smudged eyeliner underneath his eyes made him look so soft, yet dangerous. Like he could flip on a dime at any moment and split you in half just as he was moments ago.

With each pass of his tongue over your sensitive bundle the coil deep in your core burned hotter. Jake was steadily working you towards another orgasm with his velvet smooth tongue alone. Your nails raked against his scalp, pulling groans from him and sending the vibrations straight to your dripping heat.

You could spend eternity like this. Jake’s head between your legs, worshiping you the way he loves most. He looked absolutely divine. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and neck. The ends of his hair clinging to the wet skin. The look in his eyes was probably the best part. He looked like he was in absolute heaven, enjoying the way his tongue glided against you, gathering every bit of your sweet nectar.

Just when you were about to fall off the edge, Jake pulled back with a wicked grin. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, his tongue darting out to clean what he missed. You huffed a needy sigh in retaliation.

“What’s the matter babygirl?” He rose to his feet and placed his hands on the vanity, caging your hips between them. His eyes darted around your face in faux concern before his mouth broke into a smirk.

“Oh.”

Such a simple word, but it was mocking and condescending, “Did you think I was going to let you cum?” The arrogant smirk never left his face as he reached up to tuck the hair from your face behind your ear. His hand slid down your neck softly, landing on the juncture of your throat and shoulder.

“Only good girls get to cum more than once, baby. You haven’t been very good.”

“I’ve been good.” You whined with a pout, squirming under his gaze.

“But you haven’t. I told you not to cum until I said so and did you listen?”

“No.” You dropped your chin to your chest, your focus landing on his necklaces dangling from his chest. His hand snaked up your neck to the base of your skull, his thumb pushing under your jaw and forcing you to look up at him.

“No, you didn’t. Do you know what that means?”

“I need to be punished.” You whispered innocently and sweet, looking at him doe-eyed.

“That’s right, baby. Stand up.”

You did as he asked and stood from your seated position with a little help from Jake. He led you to the couch where he rid himself of his pants and boxers fully before taking a seat.

“You’re gonna ride me until I say you can cum. Is that clear?”

He looked glorious sprawled out across the mundane couch. His arms were outstretched on the back, legs wide open and cock pressed against his soft, yet firm stomach. Everything about him in this simple state exuded confidence and authority.

The cushions of the couch were plush, your knees sinking into them softly as you moved closer to straddle him. With your mouth practically watering you nodded frantically. You received nothing but a ‘tsk’ from Jake and a firm hand connecting to your backside earning a hiss from your lips as you sucked in a quick breath.

“I asked you a question.” He was stoic with an eyebrow cocked looking up at you, waiting for another slip up.

“Yes sir.”

“That’s my girl.” His hand soothed the sting it left behind and slid upwards to rest on your waist. You lowered yourself down onto his lap with your hand wrapped around his length, guiding him through your slick walls.

He wore the same authoritative expression as you lowered yourself all the way down. Cocksure and waiting. It was a sight that made you that much more aroused. Something about the way he emanated power while you were mechanically in control turned you on immensely.

With both hands on his shoulders for support you lifted yourself up while rolling your hips forward before taking all of him in again. The speed you moved was steady, enjoying the feeling of his cock pushing and pulling against your clenching walls. Each motion of your hips wound the coil tighter and hotter, your second orgasm within reach.

It was at this point that Jake grew impatient. His fingers dug roughly into the flesh at your waist and he took control of your hips, lifting you up quickly before slamming you back down on him fully. With each descent of your hips to his, you were met halfway as he began to thrust up into you. Moans, and gasps tumbled past your lips with an occasional curse word.

Your body eventually gave up, letting Jake have all the power. The only thing holding you upright were your arms looped around his neck and his left arm cradling the entirety of your back, your head supported with the same hand. In this position he was all around you. There was nothing else, only Jake.

You kept your eyes locked on his, your mouth hung open in ecstasy, his lips drawn up into something akin to a pinched sneer.

“Is the pretty girl too fucked out to beg?” He mocked between thrusts. You couldn’t answer him, not a coherent thought forming.

“That’s okay baby. She’s doing all the begging for you, gripping my cock so tight. I know she wants it.” Your eyes rolled back at the way he spoke about your pussy. He was going to be the death of you.

“Go on then, let her have it. Cum for me, princess, give it to me.” Jake grit between clenched teeth, holding back his own climax just long enough to demand yours. For the second time he threw you over the edge into the vast pit of searing pleasure. The feeling was euphoric and relieving, the intense pressure that had been building finally released.

Though your senses were dulled through the haze you could feel water coating your thighs, ass and belly, soaking portions of your shirt.

“Oh fuck!” Jake groaned from below you the sound emanating from deep within his chest. He fucked into you faster somehow prolonging your orgasm and increasing the amount of liquid you felt splattering your skin.

“That’s it babygirl, keep soaking my cock. Such a good girl squirting for daddy. Goddamn.” Praises flew past his clenched teeth as he reached his own high only to fall on deaf ears. You were far too gone to understand any of what he was saying.

Violent muscle spasms rolled through your body while Jake did his best to support you through his release. He pulled your body into his with your chests pressed together and your cheek resting against his shoulder. The spasms faded into twitches before dissipating while you laid against him. You could feel every breath he took, his chest heaving up and down.

“Goddamn you are perfect,” Jake whispered breathlessly and turned to place a kiss on your cheek, smoothing your hair with his hand, “I love you so much, baby.”

You peered up at him, not having the energy to move your head, and met his eyes. He was smiling softly at you and practically glowing. A smile etched its way onto your face, tired and completely fucked out.

“I love you too.”

The two of you stayed in that position for a little while longer until you were uncomfortable, your combined sweat beginning to dry. You sat up from his sticky chest and winced due to the soreness and him still being tucked inside you. Jake was about to help you off of him when you froze.

The entire couch was practically soaked. The cushions on either side of you were wet and you were positive the one below you had to be drenched. Your shirt was also wet, the lower half of it clinging to your skin, and Jake’s groin and belly showed remnants of liquid that had sprayed across him.

“Oh my god…”

“Made quite the mess baby, but it’s okay,” He pulled you closer with a hand to the nape of your neck, “It was insanely hot.” He flashed you a smirk and placed a quick kiss to your lips.

He helped you ease off of him and stand, holding your hands while you regained your balance on wobbly legs. When he was sure you could stand on your own he followed suit. Your guess was in fact correct. The cushion that had been below you was almost completely covered.

Jake followed your wide eyes staring at the couch. As if sensing your anxiety he pulled the cushion out of the couch, turning it 180° before flipping it over and placing it back on the couch. He did the same with the others before looking back to you.

“Good as new.” He pulled you into his side and kissed your hair. You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave him a thankful squeeze.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, baby. Now,” He squeezed you back before untangling himself from you to face you fully and hold both of your hands, “Let’s get you a new shirt and get back to the hotel so we can take a nice hot shower and clean you up. How does that sound?”

“Like heaven.” You sighed dreamily feeling your body relax at just the mention of hot water cascading over your aching muscles.

“Not quite,” Jake chuckled and shook his head, “You’re the only thing on this earth that’s like Heaven, baby.”

“If I’m like Heaven, then what’re you?”

He gave you a wicked grin and shot you a wink, holding his arms out as if presenting himself.

“Welcome to Hell, angel.”

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ageofbajabule · 8 months

Text

Fic Recommendations

I’ve been working on this for a while, and will add to it the more fics I read and will recommend.

Some of these are completed series, some are WIP series.

All of the work is 18+ NO MINORS: Some of these will contain smut, some might not. So read at your own discretion.

Josh

One Shots

Something About You - @abeautylives

Feather Light - @tripthelightfandomtastic

I Know You Are, But What Am I? - @indigostardustchords

Drift - @gretavangroupie

In Every Life - @joshkiszkasears

Divinity - @gretavanlace

Valtava - @gretavanlace

Long Time Coming - @builtbybrokenbells

Love Me Tender - @holybananafuck

Series

Varansai - @lightmylove-gvf

Bloom - @gretavangroupie

Endless Summer - @anthemofgvf

Deception - @obetrolncocktails

The Professor - @gretavanbear

Strawberry - @stardustshelb

Abaddon - @garbagevanfleet

Jake

One Shots

Voyeur - @gretavangroupie

Give Me Shelter - @gretavanfleetposts

Give Me All You Got - @alwaysonthemend

Use Somebody - @sunshinevanfleet

Series

Cream & Sugar - @sacredthefran

Hands to Yourself - @sinsofstardust

Vigilance - @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon

Covet - @jakeyt

Lazarus - @garbagevanfleet

Danny

One Shots

Thrills In The Night - @sparrowofthedawnsworld

Rebel Yell - @tripthelightfandomtastic

Series

Four Weddings and a Funeral - @hearts-hunger

Sam

One Shots

Andante, Andante - @gretasmokerising

Not So Strangers - @gvfgal

Series

Pink Lemonade - @garbagevanfleet

Twins

One Shots

Crossfire - @daisyful-gvf

Just For Me - @jake-kiszkas-smirk

Series

Kismet - @gretavangroupie @sacredstarcatcher

Shake My Faith - @capturethechaos

Skin Deep - @streamingcolors-gvf

Stardust Chords - @indigostardustchords

Sugar - @gretavanlace

Poppins - @gretavanlace

Simultaneous - @lightmylove-gvf

Janny

One Shots

Guilty Pleasures - @builtbybrokenbells

Series

Ignition - @obetrolncocktails

Jonny

One Shots

Let’s Share - @joshym

Forbidden Twins

Series

Cruel Summer - @sacredstarcatcher

Gold Dust Woman - @builtbybrokenbells

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gretavansmooch · 1 month

Text

Lace and Literature ~ Jake Kiszka x Reader

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ Minors DNI!!!!!!

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (f rec), unprotected sex, a little fluff, choking, some degradation, light bondage, mentions of anal, anal play if you squint, gagging, spit play, hysterical literature, spanking. Please let me know if I missed anything <3

A/n: This is a collaboration between me and my bestie @dannys-dream we hope you like it! :)

Word Count: 1.9K

The lack of downtime on tour was nothing new. Rarely though, is there a quiet moment so when you stumble upon an empty room at the venue with an L-shaped plush looking couch, you immediately rummage through your bag for your book that you brought with you on tour. Settling in the corner of the couch, you crack the spine on your new book. You can barely make a dent before you hear Jake’s soft rap on the door.

“Why am I not surprised that you’ve hidden yourself away with that little book of yours?” He chuckled before striding over to you, settling in front of your legs, leaning his right arm on the couch's cushion. He places a soft kiss on your thigh. “Let’s strike a deal, love. I won’t make you go out and socialize if you’re a good girl and stay quiet for me. We wouldn’t want anyone else hearing how pretty you sound, now would we? We wouldn’t want anyone to know that behind closed doors my good little girl is nothing but a whiny little whore hmm?” He spoke quietly in your ear while lightly stroking your cheek.

“No sir, I’ll be quiet. I wanna be a good girl for you.” You can feel your body shake as you take a deep breath in anticipation, still unsure of Jake’s plans for you. Always keeping you on edge, you never know what to expect.

Seemingly pleased with your response he rewards you with the tiniest of smiles before you see his eyes grow darker. Grabbing your throat firmly he slowly maneuvers the rest of his body to fit in between your parted knees.

“Here’s how this is gonna go,” he growls in your ear before letting go of your throat and grips the fabric of your leggings on the inside of your thighs. “I am going to take my sweet time playing with my favorite little pussy and you are going to read me a little story,” he had barely finished his sentence before he ripped your leggings into shreds. “And if you stop reading or make any type of noise that even resembles a moan I will leave you here all warm and wet between your pretty thighs.”

You can’t help but let out a whimper. Jake grips your hips hard, definitely leaving bruises for tomorrow. “That, Angel, is the type of noise I’m talking about. Strike one.” His fingers trail down, almost touching exactly where you want him, but not quite. “Read me my story baby, and you’d better be on your best behavior.”

As you start to read in a less than confident tone you try not to feel too much as Jake trails his fingers up and down your inner thighs before you feel him slowly lay down fully between your legs. “Look at that pretty little cunt y/n. So pretty for me.” He places a soft kiss on your mound, just above the place you desperately needed him. You continue reading, breathy moans slipping out in between words. Mid sentence, Jake slips his finger under your panties and softly pulls them to the side. He places another kiss, this time directly to your clit. Somehow, you manage to stay mostly composed and keep reading, a small moan escapes as you finish the chapter you started.

A harsh slap against your thigh brings you back to the present. “Now, did I not ask you very nicely to read me a story angel?” Jake growls into your dripping pussy.

“Yes sir, you did. I’m sorry” you moan out. Another smack of his hand lands on the same spot, the pain mixed with the pleasure being almost too much to handle.

As you struggle to focus on reading, Jake sucks your clit harshly into his mouth, taking you by surprise. A moan far too loud escapes you and at the same second you hear loud footsteps coming down the hall. Jake rips the book from your shaking hands and gives you a less than pleased look. “Looks like we’re gonna have to fix that little noise problem of yours princess.”

Jake stands up from the couch and while holding eye contact he starts to strip the lower half of his body until it is completely bare and you can see his heavy cock bobbing up and down as he moves.

“Hands,” he spat harshly. Eagerly you hold your hands out to him, afraid to rile him up further. He pulls his belt from the jeans he discarded to the floor and pulls it until the belt is tight and slightly uncomfortable around your wrists, but you didn’t care. He knows as well as you do that right now you are nothing but his little toy and your purpose is to sit pretty and shut up until told otherwise. “Remember your safe word pretty girl? And how to tell me to stop if you can’t use your words?” He tugs on the belt, ensuring you could get loose. “Y-yes sir,” you manage to squeak out. “ My safe word is Amp, and I do three snaps if I can’t talk.”

You watch him bend down to grab his black boxers. “Now, here is how this is gonna go, Angel,” He says as he crawls over to you, never breaking the intense eye contact. “I am going to stuff your pretty mouth with my boxers so that you cannot and will not be able to make a sound,” he says, and before you can answer he is tapping your chin lightly, asking you to open up. But you know that it is not a request.

You swallow your spit and let your jaw fall open. Gently, he takes his boxers and presses them into your mouth. He watches as you grind your teeth, trying to move the gag to a more comfortable place. “Such a good little whore for me, aren’t you? Nothing but a hole for me to fuck, isn’t that right sweetheart?” You nod enthusiastically, knowing you can’t speak. You’ve always loved Jake’s darker side, loved when he fucks you so hard you melt into whatever surface you happen to be defileing.

He pushes you down, fully laying on the couch. “Arms above your head, and do NOT make me repeat myself.” You do as you’re told, and grip onto the armrest of the couch.

Giving you hardly any time to prepare yourself you feel him slide into you with little to no effort seeing as you’ve completely soaked not only yourself, but the couch and him. Once he has stuffed you full it becomes abundantly clear that he would not be going easy on you.

You couldn't stay quiet even if you tried, and as he drove into you so hard you saw stars, your jaw slacked and muffled noises rang out. Jake roughly grabbed your throat, pulling you up to his face almost folding you in half, still fucking you. ‘’Little baby can't shut up while a cock is inside her needy little cunt huh?’’ he growled out. ‘’Just yours,’’ you gasped out around the fabric in your mouth. Jake faltered for only a second before he got back to his ruthless pace. ‘’That’s right Angel. Only my cock,’’ he said in a gravelly voice.

Letting go of your throat, he let you fall back down onto the plush couch before leaning over you and slapping your cheek. And as your eyes widened in surprise and arousal he yanked his boxers out of your mouth. ‘’Alright Angel, be as loud as you want. Let them all know who is fucking you like this,’’ he said as his hand came down on the side of your thigh making the sound echo in the room. A moan immediately spills out of your mouth loud enough for anyone in the hall to have heard. Jake smiled down at you and drove into you harder and somehow deeper, reaching that spot that only he had ever been able to reach. You bring your still bound wrists over his head and use them to bring his face closer and pull him into a deep kiss. As always he kissed you back for a while before pulling back. Though his movements had become more gentle you knew it wouldn't last.

Jake pulled out of you completely before roughly grabbing you and flipping you over so that your face was pressed against the back of the couch. Thinking he was going to slide back into you you wiggled your ass at him while giggling, but as your giggle rang out it was quickly replaced with a gasp and a long high pitched moan. Jake was grabbing both of your cheeks and spreading you wide open as he ran his tongue from your clit all the way up to the dimples on your back. Draping his body over yours he sucks your earlobe into his mouth before biting it. ‘’One day Angel, I'm going to pump that pretty ass full of my cum and watch it drip back out of you.’’ he whispered into your ear before pulling back and grabbing your hair making you look up at him. ‘’Open,’’ he demanded. You shoot him an innocent look keeping your mouth sealed shut.

Jake raised one of his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly to the side before you visibly saw his eyes grow darker again. In a split second he gripped your hair tighter forcing you closer to him as he drove himself back into you so harshly that your eyes rolled all the way back and your mouth hung open. ‘’Look at me, I’m fucking you so nicely. You ought to remember your manners, little girl,’’ he said, grabbing ahold of your throat. ‘’S-sorry S-ir,’’ you stammered out and when your eyes locked with his he pulled your hair again. Breathless, loud moans were flowing out of you. As your intense eye contact fueled his rough thrust, he briefly looked away and spit right into your mouth. You turn your face and pull him into a kiss, pushing the mix of your spit into his mouth. A loud moan passes his lips, and just as Jake starts picking up the speed of his thrusts there’s a pounding knock at the door.

“Jacob Thomas Kiszka, quit fucking y/n and get your ass out here and get ready for the show. We’re on stage in an hour!” Josh’s shrill voice carries down the hall.

Jake, obviously pissed off at the interruption, thrusts into you hard. You feel his hot breath in your ear as he lets out a growl. “We are so far from finished angel, but it looks like I have to go do my job. You’ll stay here and clean up our mess. And don’t even think about fucking touching yourself. We will pick this back up at the hotel.’’

Gently he pulls out of you and with a frustrated sigh he grabs his own clothes and starts to get dressed. ‘’I will be back in a minute with some new clothes for you my love,’’ he says as he leans down to kiss your forehead. And as he leaves you sink back into the couch with a sigh.

This is going to be a long night.

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The end <3 .... or is it????

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiskza #greta van fleet fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x y/n #greta van fleet smut #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka fanfic

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streamingcolors-gvf · 4 months

Text

Skin Deep - Part 10.3

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

Word Count: 9.4k

***A/N: After a bit of a hiatus from the app and writing, this chapter has been a long time coming. It’s been hanging in my docs for quite a while, but I’m stoked to have it finally posted for everyone. This part might be a bit polarizing and intense for some readers, so I strongly encourage you read the warnings before diving right in. I’m quite nervous about this update***

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

Warnings: cursing, brief mentions of marijuana use and alcohol consumption, angst/toxic themes and behavior (jealousy, extreme anger, allusions to cheating, and manipulation), physical aggression, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI 18+ (unprotected penetrative sex, rough sex, degradation, dacryphilia - arousal from tears or sobbing, spit kink, spanking, mentions of blood, choking if you squint a lot, and please feel free to message me if I have missed anything on this list!)

Masterpost, Part 10.2

You must’ve fallen asleep the second you closed your eyes because the next thing you feel is a hand nudging your arm, waking you up. You go to stretch out the tightness locking your tired muscles, but the weight of Josh passed out on your chest keeps you pinned to the bed.

You try to rub the sleepy glaze from your eyes with the heels of your palms, mumbling, “Hmm…what?”

Kai stands, causing the mattress to bounce and creak with the loss of weight. “I need a shower,” He whispers. “Will you take one with me?”

“Sure,” you groan through the stiffness. It takes a little coaxing, but you still manage to slide out from under Josh without waking him. By the time you can swing your bare feet onto the hardwood floor, Kai has already walked out of the room.

You stumble your way into the bathroom, wincing at the bright lighting. “I gotta pee…” you trail off, walking past him, but when he doesn’t take the hint, you turn to give him a look.

He lets out an airy laugh and starts to rummage through the vanity drawers. “Oh, kitten…you act like I wasn’t just inside you an hour ago.” He turns his head to you, emphasizing the remark with a teasing wink. “And you wouldn’t believe the money I’ve made off of women pissing on me… So yeah, that’s kind of the least of my worries, wouldn’t you think?” You grimace in disgust, causing him to flash a grin at you before continuing his search, unbothered by you completely. He then asks over his shoulder, “You’re on birth control, right?”

You push out a heavy sigh into your hands as you settle onto the toilet seat, “Yes, Kai. I am sleeping with both of them, remember?”

He huffs, finally finding what he’s looking for — a spare, cheap toothbrush from the bottom drawer, and starts ripping open the packaging and points it at you. “Which reminds me, I should stop by the clinic this week.” While you’re sure it’s only teasing, you shoot a death glare at him anyway, making him chuckle.

“I’m kidding! Kind of…” He trails off as he pipes out a line of toothpaste across the pristine bristles. “But in all seriousness, what’s up with you and Jake anyway?”

You scoff, “What’s up with you and Jake?”

“I asked first,” he mumbles around the head of the toothbrush tucked inside his cheek.

You remain glued to the toilet seat, pondering over the question in silence as he continues brushing his perfect teeth. A part of you is hopeful that he'll drop the topic altogether, but the curious raise of his brows says otherwise. You wish you knew the right answer — the perfect explanation for what you were. In reality, you don’t have a clue of what the label would be. You haven’t created the space for it in your life yet. “Fine,” you sigh. “I honestly don’t know what’s up with us. Weeks ago I got a tattoo done by him and by the end of that night, I ended up fucking both of them.”

A few seconds pass, making you look up to see Kai’s eyes widen in the mirror until he breaks away to stare at you.

You laugh nervously, “I know. It’s kind of crazy to think about, but it’s been going on like that — with both of them since then.”

He spits a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink before following up. “Are you guys like…dating?”

The question takes you back, but you can’t say you didn’t see it coming. “I don’t think so. Not like…conventionally in any way.” Saying the words not only to yourself but in front of Kai fills you with a sense of dread and growing shame. You can’t hide behind your ignorance or delusions. Not being able to hold eye contact, your focus drops to your hands as you anxiously pick at your nail beds. “He always gives me mixed signals and I never know what he’s thinking most of the time. When I feel like I get close, he kind of shuts me out almost. Sometimes I get the feeling like we’re a couple…and then sometimes it’s like I’m just a friend with benefits to him.” Your head falls, and finally spit out the fear that's been lingering in the back of your throat. “…I think he’s been sleeping with other girls though.”

He huffs a dry laugh, missing the shift in your tone, “That’s Jake for you.” It was a poor attempt at bringing some levity back, but when he realizes that is failing, sincerity washes over his sharp features. “I’m sorry, kitten.”

Your voice breaks when you ask, “Is that really how he is?”

He shrugs, taking another washcloth from the stack to wipe the corners of his mouth. “He’s always been closed off and to himself, but I can’t say he’ll be opening up to me any time soon.”

You finally get up to turn on the shower, “Yeah, I guess. But what’s the deal with you and him? Why does he hate you so much?”

Kai watches you work the handles to find the right temperature before stepping in. He winces, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Oh…well. I’m pretty sure he hates me because I may or may not have unknowingly slept with his ex.”

That wasn’t the answer you were expecting from him. It stuns you, taking you by surprise as warm water sprays over you. “You what?!”

He shushes you dramatically with a finger to his lips as he follows you inside the shower. “Let me explain,” he starts with a weak laugh, but the smile accompanying it doesn’t reach his eyes. “So at the time, his girl, Roxi, was at this random house party that I went to. She approached me that night and we hit it off, but she somehow conveniently skipped around divulging the fact that she was with, or had very recently broken up with him. One thing led to another —yada, yada, yada— we ended up hooking up that night. The next morning I woke up to a frightening amount of angry and wildly alarming texts and voicemails from Jake. Come to find out, someone saw us together and had told him. To me, she was a hot girl that wanted to have some fun. But to him, I ruined his fucking world and he hasn’t forgiven me since.”

Your mouth drops open but you don’t bother catching it. You stand before him, blindsided by the bombshell dropped in your hands. “Oh my god. You didn’t know?”

He shrugs, reaching for Jake’s shampoo bottle off the tile ledge. “No, I had no clue. I know you’ve never met her, but if you do, you will see that she has a certain way about her.” He chuckles, but it sounds more like a warning. “I should’ve known it was a bad decision from the jump, but c’est la vie I guess.”

Processing everything he has just told you proves to be a nearly impossible feat, but it’s able to bring some clarity to his behavior while leaving you wanting more. “Does Jake know that you didn’t know?”

He scoffs at the notion, “You honestly think Jake gives a fuck about that? He probably assumes I have some fucked up motive to steal you away from him too. Which I can’t say I blame him for.” He pauses, massaging the high-end shampoo into a rich lather through his raven-black locks. “So it’s looking like I don’t know how to learn my lesson…but where’s the fun in that?”

You reach for the same bottle, throwing him a disappointed glare. “No wonder he’s so pissed at me. I’m such an asshole, Kai.”

He places his soapy hands on your shoulders, grounding you to him and reassuring you with an affectionate touch. “And how were you supposed to know that, hmm? His hatred for me goes way back… way before you ever came into the picture, trust me.”

He’s trying. You’ll give him that, but the words don’t help ease the guilt you’re feeling. “I certainly didn’t make it better. He’s going to be so upset.”

Kai’s fingers knead away the tightness in your neck. He’s trying to distract you now, and you don’t fight him on it. “I can hold my own and so can he.”

“Does Josh know?”

He hesitates, even if it’s only for a few seconds.“Yeah, but he kind of went Switzerland on the whole thing. He stuck his head down and minded his business, which was probably for the best. Josh learned early on not to insert himself between Roxi and Jake.”

You try not to let the truth leave a stain on your evening, but it bleeds through regardless.“Why didn’t he say anything to me about her?”

“Probably didn’t think she was important enough to.” Kai isn’t oblivious to how this is affecting you either. He closes the remaining distance between you, tipping your chin up with a careful nudge of his finger, drawing your drifting attention back to him. His piercing green eyes appear darker than before — softer even. The game you found yourselves in has ended, and the intentions behind them have shifted, making you feel comfortable in his embrace. “Listen, don’t let this shit get in the way. If Jake is out here holding grudges, that’s on him.”

You look up and stare into his haunting irises, muttering, “Okay…yeah. You’re right.”

Just as you take in his details —the fans of dark lashes framing his eyes, the water rolling off the bridge of his nose, the heavy droplets falling from the ends of his hair— he studies yours. “You love him, don’t you?”

“H-Huh? What?”

“Josh.” A smirk plays on his lips just as his fingers snake up your neck and skate across your scalp. “I can see it in your eyes when you look at him.”

Him calling you out like that flusters you, and you begin to stammer over yourself. His expression softens at the sight of your anxiety, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your open lips.

It’s chaste and sweet, verging on platonic rather than sexual. “Relax, kitten. I get it. Your secret is safe with me.”

You think of him sleeping peacefully stretched across his bed. You’re blushing, still high of the euphoria and weed from earlier. You've been convincing yourself that it’s puppy love, or at least textbook infatuation, so you take his observation with a grain of salt. Deciding to change the subject, you ask with a quirked brow, “So what if I met you first?”

His facial expression shows he’s a little surprised by your question, but doesn’t stumble over it for long. “If you met me first? …Well, I would have wooed like I did tonight.” He grins, pausing to capture your lips in another kiss, one that lingers this time. “Fucked your pretty brains out for a few weeks and string you along before slowly distancing myself. Probably tell you that I’m not looking for anything serious because I’m horrendously emotionally unavailable.”

You huff a tired laugh, rolling your eyes before dipping your head under the stream of water. “At least you’re honest.”

“Always.”

Sadness starts to settle when you realize how fleeting this is with him, weighing down on your heart. “So what’s gonna happen tomorrow?”

He hums, mirroring a similar feeling. It pulls his lips into a frown before he hides it with a shallow smile. “We’ll wake up a little hungover, maybe have some more fun. Then we’ll have breakfast and say our goodbyes and I’ll keep being his friend just the same as I did before.”

Your eyes fall from his as you nod along to the rose and fall of his voice. You’re starting to grow attached, and trying your best not to let the reality of this being the last time you’ll see him upset you.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?”

Your shoulders fall but you mask your emotions with a brave face.“Okay.”

“He feels the same way you do, you know?”

“I dunno about that. You both seem pretty similar in that regard.”

“I’m serious. I can tell. Even if he’s totally being “Josh” about his feelings. I know him well enough to know that they’re there.”

You startle awake. flying into a sitting position to find that you’re alone in Josh’s bed. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you guess it's late morning with how bright the sunlight is shining through the blinds. Worried that you’ve slept too long, you scramble across the mattress to snatch your phone from the nightstand.

10:37

You hear voices coming from the kitchen, and even through the bedroom walls, you can tell it’s Josh and Kai. You slide off the bed, shuffle over to the dresser, and pull out a band tee from the drawer before stepping out of the room.

“So you like this girl, huh?” Kai asks. It makes you stop in the middle of the hallway and your heart begins to race. You inch closer, stepping quietly enough not to be detected.

You hear Josh let out a slow, deep sigh, “Yeah. I like her a lot.”

Your chest cinches a few notches tighter, sending your heart up into the back of your throat. A part of you feels terrible for eavesdropping on a private conversation, but your curiosity keeps your feet planted on the floor.

“Are you just fucking or is there more to this one?”

You stop breathing, bracing yourself for his honesty. Despite what Kai had told you hours ago, you had your doubts about his true feelings.

“I like to think there’s more than just sex. Fuck, Kai. I think about her all the time. I just want to spend every moment of the day with her. Every day. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I’ve never been this crazy about anyone before…which fucking scares the shit out of me. And you know me.”

“I do. And she’s got feelings for Jake?”

“Probably. Every time I feel like we’re getting a little bit closer, she pulls away and runs to him.”

There’s a pause before Kai hums to himself. “Do you think he has feelings for her?”

“Maybe? It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.”

“Has he dated anyone since her?”

“Roxi?” He pauses for a few seconds. “No, not really. He’s slept with a few, but none of them hung around long enough for me to remember their name.”

“He’s really still holding a grudge about that, huh?”

“Have you met Jake?” Josh snorts a laugh.

“Do you think he’s still hung up on her?”

“For a moment I thought he wasn’t, but sometimes I just don’t know. They were together for five years, Kai.”

Five years.

“Fuck.” Kai seems to share the same thought. “She certainly didn’t act like it.”

Josh lets out a light chuckle, sounding like he’s moving farther away from you. “She never did. But hey, I’m just glad she’s finally out of his life. Last I heard she was living with some tattoo artist guy in Vegas.”

“…You ever?”

“Fuck no! Are you kidding me?!” Josh scoffs, nearly wrenching at the thought. “Besides the obvious fact that he would’ve murdered me in my sleep, there was a higher chance of her Lorena Bobbit’ing my ass than me having any semblance of a good time.”

Kai laughs, causing his cackle to echo throughout the house. “The crazier the better in my opinion.”

“You would say that.” Josh’s voice and his footsteps grow distant from you, making it sound as though he’s making his way toward the kitchen.

“Sounds like you got quite the mess to sort through.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just worried about it. I did tell her that I would be okay if she wanted to only be with him though.”

Hearing him say those feelings out loud to Kai brings you back to that moment in the car and the guilt you felt, how you both reassured each other the best way you knew how.

“Do you honestly believe that you would?”

“I’d have to be, right?” The disappointment and sadness in his voice is palpable.

“Do you think she would do that?”

“I don’t know…” You fight the urge to rush in there and reassure him in some way.

Kai sighs, pausing for a minute before speaking, “I don’t know about what’s going with Jake, but she fucking adores you, Josh. It’s not much coming from me because I don’t get all lovey-dovey and shit, but I see it. The way she looks at you, she cares about you. That much I do know.”

“Fuck. I dunno…maybe you’re right. I get the feeling she’s holding back something from me…” he trails off. “What about you? Do you adore me, Kai?”

“I always will, pretty boy. If there’s a day that you’re single and I’m finally ready to settle down, You’ll be the one I’ll call.”

“Oh, I’m so flattered,” Josh giggles.

“Shut the fuck up. You know I’m a mess and a walking red flag. You’re too good for me anyway.”

“What can I say? I’m drawn to toxic like a moth to a flame, baby.”

“No, that’s your fucking twin.”

You decide it’s time to make your presence known and walk into the living room. They are both leaning against opposite ends of the kitchen counter when Josh hears you enter. You make your way across the room, catching a knowing look from Kai — one that you’ll choose to ignore for now. Josh perks up, giving you that beaming smile of his. “Hey, baby. How’d you sleep?”

Once you’re close enough, he sets his coffee mug down and pulls you in for a warm embrace, an action so domestic it makes your heart flutter. Knowing what you heard moments ago threatens to overwhelm you, but you try your best to keep yourself calm. You hold his slender waist, giving him a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Pretty good. Didn’t like waking up in an empty bed.”

He frowns as he plays with the hem of your shirt, but it spreads into a grin when he sees that it’s one of his own. Looking down at you with a playful glint in his eye, he bites down at his bottom lip while his hands roam freely up and down your body. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. I just couldn’t bring myself to wake you, and I thought you should sleep in a little longer.”

He then reaches over and grabs his mug to take another sip. Curious, you tip it down to see what’s inside, asking, “What’s this?”

“Oh! Kai was able to figure out how to use Jake’s ridiculously expensive espresso machine,” he explains, gesturing with the tip of his chin to Kai behind you. “I know we aren’t fancy baristas like you.”

You turn to look at Kai, who is taking a massive bite out of the center of a piece of buttered toast. “You made this?”

Kai nods with a confident smirk, brushing the crumbs off his fingers, and mumbling, “I did. Want one?”

“I would love one,” you reply, pleasantly surprised. While Josh keeps his hands busy massaging your shoulders, you watch Kai start setting up the machine for your shot of espresso. “Don’t you have to be at the shop this morning?”

Josh lets out a whimsical sigh, but it’s obvious he’s less than thrilled. “Sam opened for me, but I gotta head over there at noon.”

The deadbolt of the front door unlocks, throwing you all into a standstill of silence as the ominous clack of boot heels hits the wooden floor. Your eyes glue themselves to the threshold of the living room, waiting for him to step into view.

Anxiety and guilt send your heart racing into a panic state. You haven’t had the time to pull together a decent explanation to defend yourself. It doesn’t matter, because the second you see him, the words you could’ve prepared would’ve vanished.

Jake pauses in the entryway, scanning over the scene of the three of you before him. His eyes are covered with a pair of dark wire-rimmed sunglasses that hide his expression from you. You brace for an explosive reaction and fight back the nausea bubbling in the pit of your belly.

If there were a record playing, the needle would be sent across the vinyl with a theatrical scratch.

You watch the tightly wound muscles of his jaw clench as he sets his guitar case down on the floor with a heavy thud. His movements are slow, but calculated. There’s no doubt he’s angry. He’s practically seething with disgust. You look over to Josh, desperate for a sense of direction but the worry in his eyes gives you little to no hope.

He removes his sunglasses and hooks them over the collar of his t-shirt, giving you the sight of the tired circles framing his hollow eyes. “You know, Kai… I thought I made it extremely clear to you that I never wanted to see your face ever again. And yet, you come into my place of business anyway. Which, I let slide because I love my brother. But the fact you’re in my fucking house—“

“I’m not one to turn down an invitation,” Kai interrupts, baiting Jake.

“Get. Out,” Jake snarls through gritted teeth, letting himself slip. The tension in the room feels like a disease, infecting every inch of your body with each passing second.

Kai lets the silence stale as his eyes pan across the room, locking on yours for a few seconds longer than they should. “Well, everyone, it seems as though I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he sings with a sleepy lilt, setting down his half-empty coffee mug on the counter. He steps toward Josh at a leisurely pace, pulling him in for an affectionate and gentle kiss to mumble against his lips, “It’s been wonderful. I hope to do this again sometime.” Josh relaxes enough to smile from the touch, but the stiffness returns as soon as Kai separates from him.

Kai makes his way around the island and leans down to you to place a dramatic kiss on your lips. Knowing that Jake is watching, he makes sure to slip his tongue enough for him to see. He breaks away to breathe you in, humming in satisfaction, “It’s been a true pleasure, kitten.”

“That’s enough.” Jake’s voice cuts through the air with a razor’s edge.

Your face flames hot with a feeling of shame. There’s no denying what happened. There’s no backtracking the events of last night in an attempt to smooth things over. Not only has Jake caught you, but you’re rubbing the very idea of it in his face. Keeping his jade-colored eyes locked on yours, Kai straightens upright. The shit-eating grin and the wink he gives you is a tell-all. He’s not intimidated by him in the slightest — it’s all just another play of the game. With the cocky smile fixed on Kai’s face, he turns to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re threatened by me, Jake.”

Exhibiting an unwavering ego, Kai takes confident strides in the face of danger. There’s an unbridled rage tearing at the weakened seams of Jake’s composure, and you’re within seconds of witnessing it. Kai steps between him and the wall, towering over him by those crucial inches. You’ve seen this type of display before — that standoff between Josh and Jake in the tiny office. However, this feels very different to you. This goes beyond petty sibling rivalry. The glimmer in Kai’s eyes tells you he’s nowhere close to laying down and showing his belly for mercy.

He should just pass by Jake and walk right out that door, but he doesn’t. He gives in to the temptation and decides to toss out a final taunt. “She was a real treat last night.” The way the words slip so effortlessly from his quick-witted tongue leaves a bitterness on yours. “Which isn’t a surprise. I’ve always admired your taste. Although I will say I like her a lot better than Roxi.”

Jake suddenly lunges forward with the same ferocity of a rabid dog, grabbing fistfuls of Kai’s button-up. “Get her name out of your fucking mouth, you piece of shit!”

Being arguably stronger, roughly forty pounds heavier, and a couple of inches taller, Kai reacts quicker than your brain can process, making it seem as though it’s a frenzied blur of motion. He shoves Jake backward by the scruff of his shirt, throwing him into the opposite wall with enough force to make the picture frames rattle from the impact. Jake’s pinned, having all the air knocked from his chest. As calm as Kai seems to be, you’re not ignorant of the pacified aggression lying just beneath the surface. Through Jake’s grunts, he makes his threat clear as they stare into the darkest corners of their minds through each other’s eyes, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Jake.”

Afraid of the worst, your head snaps back to Josh, silently begging him to do anything to diffuse the situation. Fear has cast over his features as well, leaving you both frozen in place to watch it all unfold in front of your very eyes.

“Get the fuck off me!” Jake spits, ripping Kai’s hands from his clothing with a frustrated throw of his arms.

There’s so much more that he wishes to do. He wants to tear Kai to shreds — to throw a well-deserved punch into that chiseled jaw, to break that perfect nose, to leave him bloody and bruised, but he knows that the odds are stacked against him. It’s an unfair fight with far more disadvantages than he wants to admit. This is a match between a man with everything to lose and one wagering absolutely nothing.

While Jake blows the violent plumes of his anger through flared nostrils, Kai irons out the new wrinkles of his shirt with an unbothered pass of his palm. “And with that, I bid you all adieu.” Aware that the stakes are rising by the second, he doesn’t wait for the responses that are stuck in your throat and goes to leave. Before he takes the final step out of the door, he looks over his shoulder. “And Jake? That temper is going to get the best of you one day. Don’t let it get away from you.”

Jake throws up a middle finger, a gesture to which Kai responds with a dry, humorless laugh before closing the door behind him. Josh hears the door latch into place and steps toward his brother, calling out to him, “Jake—“

“Fuck you!” The words shot out of his mouth as a verbal strike — meant only to hurt. He hasn’t bothered looking at you until now, but when those eyes find you, you deeply wish they hadn’t. He glares at you with black, wounded eyes basted in pure, undiluted disappointment. You hate that look. It makes you feel sick and riddled with shame.

He picks up his guitar case, breaking eye contact to shoot Josh a hateful look of his own. He jabs a finger in the air, pointing directly at his brother. “You’re a fucking prick.”

Josh recoils but doesn’t say another word in defense. Pissed and not wanting to stay another second, Jake takes off down the hall toward the bedrooms.

You leap off the barstool, sending the chair skidding across the floor as you call after him, “Jake, wait! Let me explain!”

“Jake!” You bolt down the hall after him, but he doesn’t stop or at the very least, slow down for you. He doesn’t even bother glancing back at you to give you a hateful look. The only thing you’re given in return for your efforts is a slammed door in your face. You can only stare at the painted wood, contemplating whether you should knock or barge right in.

He’s shut you out — figuratively and literally.

Deflated, you walk aimlessly into Josh’s bedroom. Your feet are working separately from your mind, carrying you to his bed. You crawl on top of the disheveled duvet and breathe in the dissipating scent of Kai’s cologne. All you want to do is disappear, to take away the feeling that’s closing the walls of your chest.

You curl into the fetal position, making yourself as small as you possibly can. Lying there, you have a hard time telling how much time has passed when you hear Josh walking into the room and feel his weight shift across the mattress.

“Hey,” he says quietly, carefully reaching out to touch the back of your arm to comfort you. Feeling as though you don’t deserve it, you flinch from the gentle contact, shrugging his hand from your body. He sighs, “I know you’re mad at me, baby.” He then clears his throat, but the defeat coats every word like a sickness, “You have every right to be, honestly. I…I probably wasn’t in my right frame of mind last night. I mean don’t regret it… but shit… I wasn’t thinking that clearly either. I saw how the two of you were at the bar and saw the chance. I was so blinded by this fantasy I’ve had to sleep with him that I forgot about your feelings in all this. I didn’t care about Jake either. I knew he would be pissed but I didn’t care.” You can hear how painful the last sentence is to his heart. “I’m sorry I pulled you into this.”

You stare at the collection of vintage posters on his wall, letting the apology brew in your thoughts as you study the images. You aren’t angry with him. You never were, but you don’t have the energy to correct him on it now. You can’t even say you regret what happened with Kai, but you need answers to the questions assaulting the forefront of your mind. “Tell me about Roxi.”

Some time passes before he cuts through the looming silence. “Ah…shit. I don’t even know where to start with that,” he begins as he stretches across the bed next to you. You listen quietly, keeping your back to him. “I guess they met when they were about twenty or twenty-one. We were all fresh out of our apprenticeships when he started tattooing her and didn’t take long for them to become a thing. A will-they-won’t-they, on-again-off-again thing for five fucking years, babe. One minute they would be the sweetest lovebirds in front of you and then the next they were going at each other’s throats. I don’t want to say it was just her that was the problem, but she put him through a lot of bullshit for a long time.”

You can’t ignore the hints of anger in his voice. “He was in love with her?”

“In love with the idea of her. A version of her that will never, ever exist. I don’t care what anyone says to me about it. That’s what I believe. For years he chased after what he thought she could be. He was so convinced she was ‘the one’ that he bought a ring and everything. But there was no telling him that. It was one of those things you just had to let play out and let him learn for himself.”

You’re not sure why the truth he’s been hiding from you hurts, but it does. You lay silent, repeating Josh’s words over in your mind.

Josh isn’t oblivious to your broken breathing pattern — how hard you’re holding back from crying. He risks another touch by brushing his fingertips across your back. “Roxi has been out of the picture for a while, baby. Please don’t hold that weight on your shoulders. His issues with Kai don’t have anything to do with you and I, okay?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He stammers over his words, “I-I don’t know…I was selfish about you. I guess that it was easier to stuff his skeletons back in the closet. Maybe I thought it would be bad to put his business out there like that. Or maybe I thought she was in the past and it didn’t matter anymore.”

“He doesn’t even want to talk to me,” your voice croaks, broken from our hitched breath. “You saw it. He didn’t even want to look at me, Josh.”

He sighs, turning to nuzzle into the nape of your neck while wrapping a loose arm around your midsection. “He’ll come around, babe. He always does.” It’s hard to believe him, especially from what you heard about Jake holding grudges,

You feel the vibration of his phone against your ass. He lets out an annoyed groan, shifting to dig it out from his front pocket. “Shit! Today of all fucking days…” His sigh might as well have the weight of the world. He rests his forehead against your back, mumbling into the worn cotton, “I gotta head to the shop. Would you like to stay here or do you want me to drive you home?”

The thought of packing your stuff and leaving to be home by yourself nearly crushes you. You feel embarrassed, but ask anyway, “Is it okay if I just lay here for a while?”

“Of course, baby,” he coos reassuringly, placing a kiss on your cheek before crawling off the bed. He knows you need the space, so he doesn’t push any more affection onto you yet. “Text or call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

It’s been hours since Josh left for work, and you spent most of that time rotting in the duvet cocoon feeling sorry for yourself. There was a nap or two, but nothing to make you feel well-rested in any sense. If anything, you feel more exhausted, but with dusk finally falling, you’re forced to crack open the door. You hear the ominous sounds of someone shuffling around in the kitchen. The hallway is cast in darkness, but you can see that Jake’s door is open.

You’re going to have to face him.

There’s no avoiding it.

It looks as though he’s cooking dinner, prepping the pile of vegetables stacked on the center of the counter. He’s chopping away but doesn’t lift his head as you step closer. You know he hears you, so you stand on the opposite side of the island and wait for him to finally acknowledge you.

Even though he’s changed his clothing to a different band t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he’s never seemed more uncomfortable. His long hair is tied back in a messy, low bun with loose strands falling around his face. You make the first move to break the silence. “Are we gonna talk or what?”

The muscles of his jaw tighten, but he keeps his lips sealed together in an expressionless, thin line. “Jake, come on,” you prod, your impatience growing with every second he chooses to ignore you. He continues chopping, keeping his focus on the large onion pressed beneath his fingertips. His behavior ignites a flash of anger inside you like a struck match. “Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment right now?!” Nothing. Just the repetitive sound of the blade thumping against the cutting board. “Can you just tell me you’re mad?”

Your incessant pestering distracts him, causing the butcher knife to escape from his stranglehold grasp, cutting his finger which makes him drop the blade and hiss a curse under his breath. Instead of breaking away to tend to the fresh wound, he goes back to chopping the rest of the onion.

“You’re bleeding, Jake,” you mutter, thinking that he would’ve noticed the trail of blood running down the side of his palm and smearing across the vegetable. “Can you please just look at me? Talk to me.” You don’t care that you’re unwelcome. You won’t leave until you get a reaction out of him. “Just fucking say something. Anything. I know you’re pissed at me. Just tell me I’m fucking horrible. Tell me you hate me. Just say something.”

The fraying line that’s been keeping his composure finally snaps within seconds. He snatches the glass bowl full of diced onions sitting on the counter and hurls it into the wall to your right, screaming with rage as it flies through the air.

The small bowl shatters on impact, sending an explosion of glass shards and tiny bits of onion everywhere.

“FUCK!”

You recoil from the sound and the rise of his voice, staring blankly at the scene before you after being stunned into silence. This is the first real, raw emotion he’s shown you, and you’re not sure what to do with it. Several seconds of silence pass before you can finally breathe, “What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

He’s gripping the edge of the countertop with his head hung low, mumbling, “You just don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

He reaches for the crumpled tea towel beside him and wraps it around his bleeding finger, muttering in a low, calculated voice, “Kai is a fucking drifter and a player.” He clenches his fist around the soiled cloth, causing his knuckles to turn a ghostly shade of white. “He goes from one person to the next whenever he gets bored with them. It’s always been about an easy fuck for him. He fucking used you like he does everyone else. Don’t you see that?! He doesn’t care about you, dove.” The muscles tighten over his jaw while his darkened, sunken eyes rise to meet yours, giving you an icy scowl that threatens to make the blood run cold in your veins. “Never has, never will.”

Defensiveness comes as a visceral reaction for you. He’s dead wrong, and the last thing you’re about to do is let him barrel over you to prove it. You firmly stand your ground, spitting back harsh words of your own, “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Excuse me?!” He scoffs, chucking the ruined towel off to the side. That one hurt, and the pained look on his face is one you won’t forget.

You dig your heels in, throwing your arms in frustration as you double down, “Oh, so you can fuck all the girls you want but it’s suddenly a problem when I sleep with Kai?!”

Your thrown-in confession causes him to flinch, but confusion becomes layered deep within his anger. “Other girls? What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“The girls you’re texting, Jake! The women that pop up on your phone all the time!” You scream out, pointing to his phone resting on the counter. “Don’t think I don’t see it.”

“Wait a minute…Are you talking about my clients?!” He snaps, fraying apart while staying oblivious to the droplets of blood that are about to drip onto the floor.

“Oh please, Jake,” you huff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest, which brings his attention to the fact you’re wearing Josh’s shirt. “Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. I may be naive, but I’m not that fucking stupid.”

He laughs and inhales deeply, reigning in the anger enough to say the following words slowly, as if to spoon-feed you what he’s about to say, “I’m not fucking anyone else. I don’t know how else to explain that to you.”

A shred of doubt reveals itself. You want to trust him but your wounded pride forces you to mask it by deflecting. “And you really expect me to believe that? I saw how you flirted with those girls in the front row last night.”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You had your tongue shoved halfway down Kai’s throat!”

“What does it matter?! You acted like I didn’t exist, Jake! That I was a nobody to you. Now you’re trying to pin some kind of blame on me for what happened in the past between you and him. But guess what? I’m not Roxi.”

That flipped a massive switch, and for a split second, you almost regret letting her name leave your mouth. You’ll admit that it was immature of you, but you don’t care. The anger that's been kept at a steady simmer between you boils over into a seething rage, popping and bursting onto anything that stands too close. He points a threatening finger at you, spitting the venom-dipped words, “Don’t you fucking dare act like you know anything about her, because you don’t. But you’re right. I expected you to have higher standards for who you fucked than she did.”

“Well, I slept with you, didn’t I?!” You sneer, throwing his insult back in his face. He becomes unrecognizable from the tears glazing over your tired eyes, pooling at your lashes before they have the chance to spill over. You’re just out to hurt each other now, throwing verbal punches to see who can cause the most damage.

It seems as though you got the last shot in because he doesn’t strike out at you again. There are no smartass remarks for him to come back with. His eyes break away from yours, and his gaze falls to the bloody cutting board resting on the counter in front of him. “This was a fucking mistake.”

Moments ago you were shouting at each other from across the granite countertop, but now the house is deathly quiet after hearing those five words, so quiet that the air becomes too thick for you to breathe. The way his voice cracked ever so slightly makes your heart plummet into the pit of your stomach. You wait, hoping that it’s not what you think it means, or perhaps you’re just anticipating the worst.

Your voice catches from trying not to cry, “What’s a mistake?”

This feeling terrifies you. You’ve been betting against the odds this whole time, risking it all on the chance you wouldn’t care for him this way. You’ve been ignorant, determined to convince yourself that you weren’t falling in love.

Love.

How could you fall in love with both of them like this?

This should be a euphoric moment for anyone— something to be celebrated and cherished. Most would be confessing it under far different circumstances, instead you’re staring at that same man with hurt welling in his eyes. You run away from it like a coward, forced to bury it deep and shove it away before it has a chance to break you.

His shoulders fall as if all life has been drained from him. He waves an outstretched hand to nothing in particular, but there’s no life in the movement. “This.”

Uncomfortable silence stales between you, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. You see his brother’s softness in his face — a vulnerability he makes sure to keep from you. The look paired with the answer he gave crushes you. There’s a real possibility that you could lose him now that you’ve done an expert job of pushing him away. The need to be closer compels you to take a step, and you start to circle your way around the island. “So this is it then?”

Your hand follows the hard edge of the counter as you round the corner, sliding across its smooth surface. You grip onto it, using it as the only thing to ground yourself until you’re standing beside him. He doesn’t say a single word, move an inch, or even make an attempt to look at you. If anything, he stiffens from your presence. Feeling like he’s giving up on you, you challenge in a low voice, “Are you really done because you got jealous?”

“I’m not fucking jealous!” he shouts, slamming his hand down onto the counter through the resurgence of that rage. You jump back hearing the cutting board rattle beneath his palm, but it doesn’t scare you away. He’s just as scared, breathing heavily, watching you reach a hand out from the corner of his eye. He flinches when you touch his arm, but he doesn’t move away from you. In a weaker, pained voice, he says, “Do you actually think I don’t care about you?”

“Jake?” You whisper meekly, just barely grazing over his splayed fingers out of sheer desperation to connect with him in some way. Your heart aches when you see him pull his hand from yours, leaving behind a red stain across the wooden board. “Jake, please.”

You step into the heat and scent of his body, bringing yourself inches from him. Your broken pleas are the only thing you can offer, begging your way in despite his rejection to keep you out. He warns with your name pushing past his lips through a tired sigh.

You ignore it. With only a breath between you, you nudge your nose into the side of his neck, brushing your lips across the warm skin so faintly he might question if the feeling is real. He shudders through a harsh swallow but doesn’t push you away. You abandon your morals, kissing his throat with much more intent. A soft groan echoes in his throat as your tongue flicks across him and in the blink of an eye, he snatches your wrist, pulling you back.

You suck in a sharp breath, startled by his movements. While the hold he has on you isn’t painful, it’s firm, keeping you pinned between him and the island’s granite edge.

His other hand finds the nape of your neck, and he knots his fingers in your hair, forcing you to look up at him. You watch, dumbfounded as his bloodshot eyes scan over your face until they lock with yours. You accept your vulnerable state, submitting to him without a single word of protest.

“Oh, dove,” he hums, clicking his tongue. “Look at you…whimpering and crawling your way back to me like this. Do I need to lick your wounds for you, too?” He mocks in that gravelly voice of his, sending the words across your lips, each one bathed in whiskey as if he had recently taken a sip. You know he’s far from drunk, remembering the half-filled rocks glass sitting on the counter. “It’s pathetic. Did he even make you cum? Or did he need Josh’s help for that too?”

It should piss you off—the way he’s speaking to you like this. If you had any sense or dignity left, you would shove him off you and storm back into Josh’s room to gather your belongings.

Knowing you don’t have a response, he continues, “My sweet, beautiful dove. Is that name even fitting for you anymore? Or are you a cuckoo — tricking your way into my nest pretending to be something you’re not? I trusted you, yet here I am with betrayal finding me once again.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeak out, your strength cracking beneath him.

“Why should I let you back in? Do you think you’ve earned my forgiveness?” He hisses, his hurt seeping into the hushed sound. You don’t blame him. You’re not even confident that you could convince yourself that you deserve it. Left speechless, you’re only able to look up at him, glassy and doe-eyed with your tears falling freely down your flushed cheeks.

The sight of you changes something within him. He curses to himself before his lips collide with yours, angry and needy. He ruts himself against you, letting go of your wrist to brace himself on the counter. The kiss is heady— desperate with hunger as if he has been starving for this. He pants your name in a bated breath, confessing, “Don’t you see my weakness for you?”

It makes you throb to hear it. You need him. God, you need him and you don’t care what it’ll cost you. He devours you, licking into your mouth to consume everything he can. The smokey taste of him, the feeling of his dominant tongue running along yours, the nipping of his teeth on your lips. With your hand free, you search across his thigh, quickly finding his erection through his sweatpants. The thin fabric does nothing to hide it, letting you feel how hard he truly is.

You stroke your fingers over his covered length, but he stops you from dipping them beneath his waistband. Breaking away from the kiss, he warns, “I’m not going to be gentle with you.”

“I don’t care,” you whine into his mouth, fighting the grasp he has around your arm.

He squeezes your hand, emphasizing again, “I’m serious. I’m not going to be careful, dove.”

You glare into his eyes, staying in his darkened irises — perhaps to call his bluff or maybe to bait him further. “I want this.”

“Fine,” he huffs, releasing your hand. He then steps back, flipping you around to face away from him. Before you can react, he places a hand flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your chest is flush with the counter’s surface. You shiver the chill of the stone against your hardening nipples through your shirt. “Is this really what you want?”

You swallow to wet your tongue, answering, “Yes.”

Without another warning, his open palm connects with your ass, cracking against the flesh with a powerful slap. You cry out as the sting radiates, prickling the skin with its heat.

“I turn my back for one second and I catch you giving your perfect pussy away to him.” His fingertips skim across the raised mark he left, tracing along the edge of your panties before hooking the band and pulling the cotton down your legs. You hear the threads of it rip on the way to the floor, then feel his fingers ghost over your bare cunt. He spits, and you imagine how it looks as he starts stroking himself before pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. “Don’t forget your color.”

There’s no foreplay to get you ready for him this time because he buries himself inside you in a single powerful thrust. The moan that heaves from your chest is guttural. You welcome the pain of him stretching you out so quickly, groaning as it melts into pleasure when he slowly withdraws.

He doesn’t allow you to bask in it for long, snapping his hips forward to ram himself back into your cervix. His hand grips around your waist, balling the material of your shirt between his fingers.

He lives up to his word, fucking you harder than he ever has before. There’s no doubt that this is fueled by his anger or possibly a newfound hatred for you, but you take it all in, biting back your muffled cries. While your teeth create a row of indents into the flesh of your forearm, his fingers dig deeper into your hip. He doesn’t talk you through like he has in the past, giving you the sounds of his ragged breathing instead.

The rhythm he uses is unrelenting. The power behind his thrusts is unprecedented. He’s rough with you, just as he promised, pressing you against the cold, hard granite, left with nothing to brace yourself. You’re lost in it, overwhelmed by the fact that this might be the very last time you have him.

Fearful that you won’t be able to handle much more, you whimper out, “Jake.”

He suddenly freezes at the sound of his name and takes a minute for the both of you to catch your breath before pulling completely out of you. You panic thinking that it might be over, and plead over your shoulder. “No, don’t stop!”

“Color?”

“Green.”

He waits for a second before spinning you around to lift you onto the countertop. He slips himself back in, and after seeing how much you’ve been crying, tucks the hair stuck to your temple behind your ear and cradles your face to kiss you.

“Close your eyes for me,” he instructs calmly, effectively shushing you. You clutch onto his shoulders and wrap your legs about the small of his back, locking him inside you as you allow your eyelids to flutter closed. He holds you still, sending the warmth of his fluttering breath until his tongue passes over your cheek in a delicate flick. He licks up the trails of tears across your skin, cleaning the dried salt as he makes his way to your soaked lashes. He’s breaking you apart only to put you back together again.

A choked sob escapes you, “I’m so sorry, Jake.”

He groans in response to the sounds of your weeping, biting at your swelling cheek before burying his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in, and finds a new pace, gliding into you with a controlled ease.

“Say it again,” he growls against your ear with a deliberate thrust. “I need to hear you beg for it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine, but absentmindedly. You’re more than distracted, using most of your focus on the way his cock hits your g-spot from the change in angle.

“Sorry for what?”

“For Kai,” you blurt out.

His hand wraps around your throat, tight enough to grab your attention and redirect it to him. “Use your words.”

You look at him, blinking away the cloudiness from your vision to see the sweat glistening across his forehead and his heavy-lidded eyes covering his blown pupils. You can be upset at him later, but for now, you give him the apology he wants. “I’m sorry for fucking Kai.”

He brings his lips to the shell of your ear — his exhale blowing from his nostrils like air from a pair of bellows. “I thought I told you I don’t fucking share, dove,” he scolds with the words searing off his tongue. “I let you fuck Josh.” A chill runs down your spine because he knows your feelings for his twin. Before tonight, this was all a role, an act that he knew turned you on. That line between it and the real him is becoming more and more blurred, with the phrase ringing in your ears, echoing around in your mind. “Don’t forget that.”

“Jake—“

He interrupts by swiping his wet fingers across your lips, painting them in a sticky, crimson smear. You lick across them, but there’s no denying the metallic taste of blood on your tongue. “Your pussy is mine,” he snarls, letting his jealousy possess him entirely.

He pulls away slightly and guides you to lean back, creating space between you. You’re able to see the soiled state of Josh’s white t-shirt that you’re wearing. It’s stained in a spattering of bloody prints and wrinkled beyond recognition. You can’t dwell on it for long because Jake’s pace has quickened again, and when he realizes you haven’t responded, he snaps, “Say it!”

There’s ferality in his gaze, and you’re running off the adrenaline of it all — blinded by poisonous lust and raw emotion. “It’s yours.”

“Now touch it. Make yourself cum for me.”

You do as you’re told without hesitation, bringing your shaky fingers to your clit. He holds onto your hips as his line of sight floats from your face down to your pussy, watching you pleasure yourself while he continues to fuck you.

You notice that his hair has fallen free from the hair elastic, draping most of his face in the curtain of chestnut locks. He’s held onto full control until this point, but now even he can’t hold back, grunting, “Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

Making eye contact with you, he tips his head and spits aggressively onto your swollen cunt — giving you an image you will never forget. He doesn’t even have to tell you what to do next. With slick fingers, you slip them effortlessly across yourself, using your favorite technique.

You’re close.

He’s beginning to falter as well, revealing to you that he’s not going to last much longer. You race to the finish line, frantic in your movements to make yourself orgasm. Fighting the temptation to cum, his strokes are a combination of deep and shallow, making sure to hit every spot inside you perfectly. He’s learned you well enough, after all.

“Be a good girl and make it up to me,” he pants desperately.

It doesn’t take much more for you to fall apart. Within seconds, it all comes crashing down around you. You claw for him to be as close as possible, tightening your shaky legs around his waist to keep him inside you. What would normally be euphoric moans sung into the air, are broken cries and muffled curses. It might’ve been the release you were craving the most, but not the one you needed.

Because you know when the dust begins to settle, you’ll be left with the truth of it all — those feelings without the sex to disguise them.

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @asparrowofthedawn96 @ageofnations @garbagevanfleet @pennylanefics @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1 @jake-kiszkas-smirk @sunandthemoontwinflames @klarxtr @sacredthethreadgvf @gracev0609

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indigogvf · 5 months

Text

How can you not see it?

Authors note: this is my first time writing smut!! Any feedback/thoughts are much appreciated but please be nice :)

Warnings: 18+, minors dni. Angst (i cant help myself🤭), fluff, drinking, swearing. Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: After being fuck buddies with Josh for a few months, he begins to act out when he sees a man buy you a drink. Is this little arrangement between you over, or does it turn into something more?

You walked up to the bar, standing there for no longer than two seconds before an unfamiliar arm snaked around your waist. “This one’s on me. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be paying for their own drinks, hm?”

‘Okay, gross…’ you thought, turning to look at him. He had dark brown hair that was gelled to the side, brown eyes with slight stubble on his face. I mean, he wasn’t ugly, but that pick-up line was plain nasty.

“I’m okay, thanks though.” You presented a closed lipped smile in hopes that your bluntness would deter him.

You were wrong.

“C’mon, just one drink. I’ll leave you alone after that, I promise.” He asked, looking at you hopefully.

‘Maybe he isn’t so bad, I mean that’s a pretty reasonable offer.’ Looking over the man’s shoulder, you caught Josh’s eyes burning into you.

“Okay, just one drink, but you have to leave me alone after that.” Accepting his compromise, you took a seat at the bar whilst he ordered you a drink. You caught Josh’s eyes again, noticing that he appeared to be angry. You and Josh have been sleeping together for a few months now, but so far, it has been nothing serious.

It happened at the end of the last tour, when he was pent up after a show and had absolutely no shame in asking for your help in the midst of his desperation. There was no denying that Josh is attractive, and you’d always had a small thing for him, so you happily obliged. But then, it carried on, which isn’t necessarily a problem, but he’s a very confusing person. You know that he’s only using you for a quick fuck, but considering your friendship, you assumed he’d have a tad more respect. You are painfully aware that sex is all it is to him, but you can’t help feeling hurt at times, especially when he has no shame in chatting up random girls when you go out somewhere. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to do the same, but stopped yourself out of respect for Josh.

However, it had been a week since you and Josh last had sex, and the guy currently chatting you up seemed nice enough. You didn’t have any intention of sleeping with him, but it was nice to share a drink with someone, even if it was not the person you wanted to be with.

You finished your drink and said your goodbyes to the guy at the bar, who you never actually caught the name of. Or maybe you did… you can’t remember, and truthfully, you don’t really care. You headed back to the group, which only consisted of you, Josh, Jake, Danny, and Sam. “Who was that?” Jake asked, sharing an intrigued look with the rest of them.

“Just some guy, he said he’d buy me a drink and then leave me alone. Seemed like a fair deal and he was nice enough.” You looked around, and it seemed like your answer was satisfactory. Until you landed on Josh, who was still wearing the same grumpy look. You frowned at him, wondering what his problem was. He caught your gaze and rolled his eyes.

‘What is his problem?’ You thought, frustrated with the lack of communication.

“Where are we going after this?” You asked, trying to avoid Josh’s stare.

“You’re not going home with that guy?” Josh asked, hints of sarcasm seeping through his already harsh tone. You were dumbfounded, Josh never acts this way.

“Excuse me?” You asked, pure confusion evident in your tone.

“I don’t know. You seemed pretty content with him.” You looked around trying to gauge everyone else’s reaction, which was seemingly the same as yours.

“I already told you, he bought me one drink and promised to leave me alone. If he hadn’t made the promise of leaving me alone I would have been opposed to the idea, but he did. It was a harmless drink.” You spoke calmly despite the anger that was flowing through your veins.

‘This is unbelievable! Since when is this a problem for him? He has no issues chatting up girls, but when I have a harmless drink with someone he acts like I’ve committed adultery in a marriage that doesn’t even exist.’ You were fuming, but doing a good job of hiding it.

“Could’ve fooled me” he responded, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Josh, chill out. Let’s just go back to mine because it's the closest.” Danny pipes up. You weren’t even sure you wanted to stay out after the way Josh has been acting. It was awkward now, no one was really sure of what to say because no one knew what was wrong.

“I think I might just head home for the night. This has been really nice though, we need to make more of an effort to do this more often.” You hoped that they wouldn’t question it. Josh had entirely sucked the fun out of the night and your mood to socialise had gone down the drain. They all protested, asking you to stay just a couple more hours. Josh stayed silent, confirming that he was still in his pathetic little mood. That gave you even more reason to leave, so you did. You all said goodbye and they subtly told you to just ignore Josh and that he’d get over whatever was bothering him.

As soon as you got home you stripped from your restricting skirt and top and got in the shower. The warmth felt so good, releasing all the built up tension from Josh’s digs at you. It started to dawn on you that maybe the whole arrangement you had with Josh was a bad idea. Realistically, it’s never a good idea to sleep with your friends without the intention of more. But, it was going fine, it hadn’t affected your friendship at all until now. You wonder what had changed.

You reluctantly got out the shower and put on your comfiest pyjamas. Then, you ordered some takeout, which is a necessity after a night of drinking. It was still quite early and you weren’t going to go to sleep for a few more hours, so you poured yourself a nice, full glass of wine. You heard a knock at the door before you could enjoy.

‘That was quick…’ you opened the door and was met with Josh’s familiar face. ‘Fucking brilliant.’

“What do you want now? To ruin the rest of my night, too?” You asked. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“No, I was going to apologise but it seems you’re still clinging on to whatever it was I did.” You audibly laughed in his face.

‘Unbelievable. Is he serious? This is so obviously because the rest of them forced him to come and apologise.’ You theorized.

“Seriously, Josh? You were rude. You have no problems chatting up women at bars and I never bat an eyelid. Was it shitty to watch? Sure! But I have no reason to stop you because we are not together. We fuck Josh, that’s the extent of it. We’re friends who fuck. Why is it a problem when I have a drink with someone? I was never going to agree in the first place out of respect for you. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to go home with someone, but I haven’t, because despite the fact that we aren't together, we’re friends. But it’s only fair if I get to talk to other guys. I don’t know what your problem is, but our little arrangement is done. It’s clearly affecting our friendship and you seem to be able to get a good fuck whenever you want, so you obviously don’t need me for that. Now, if you’re not going to sincerely apologise for your pathetic behaviour, I’d like you to leave before my food gets here.” He stared at you, mouth agape in shock. All of the emotions you just poured out started to sink in, and it’s became overwhelming. You hold back the tears and wait for him to respond.

‘Why is this getting to me so mu-‘

“I love you! Jesus, how can you not see it? I’m head over heels for you. Have you never noticed how I always take care of you after we have sex? I stay with you every single time. Have you never noticed the way I look at you every opportunity I get? Have you never thought about why I always get you the most meaningful gifts compared to everyone else? Or why I always sit next to you when we go out? I’m in love with you. I never meant for us sleeping together to become a regular thing, but having you as something more than a friend was better than just being seen as a friend by you, even if it was just as a fuck buddy. The way I acted tonight was wrong and unfair, and you’re right. You should be able to talk to whoever you want because that’s exactly what I do. I’m sorry.”

You were shocked to say the least, but it made sense. Everything made sense. You love him. That’s why it always bothered you to see him talking to other girls. As you stared at him completely baffled, your food arrived, which was honestly perfect timing. It brought you back to reality. You invited Josh into your home and sat down with him, “please say something, you’ve been silent for way too long”

“I’m sorry. I just- it all makes sense now.” You thought about the best way to go about this. You weren’t exactly planning on admitting your feelings for Josh tonight, specifically because you are admitting to feelings that you didn’t even realise you had until five minutes ago. ‘Fuck it.’ “I love you too. I didnt even realise, but it makes sense. It hurt to see you talk to other girls, knowing you could pull any of them whenever you wanted. I just didn’t put the pieces together.” You stared up at him, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

You grabbed his collar and pulled him into you, kissing him with so much force that it made your head spin. He gladly reciprocated. Your mouths moved in sync as his tongue swiped your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you granted. He pushed you further into the couch, and you wrapped your legs around his waist bringing him in closer. This felt so different; it wasn’t just need and desperation; the atmosphere was filled with love and passion. He groaned into your mouth as you started grinding your hips on him, looking for some type of friction to ease the aching sensation. You could feel how hard he was.

He pulled away to remove your top and groaned when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. “Fuck. You’re so pretty, mama.” You smiled at him as you moved your hands to his waist and attempted to unbutton his pants when he stopped you, “No. Let me make you feel good, first.” He removed your pants, leaving you completely naked below him. He ran his fingers through your folds collecting the wetness. “All of this for me?” You moaned at the feeling of his fingers on you, bucking your hips to try and get some friction on your aching clit.

“Only for you, Josh” he pushed a finger inside of you, eliciting a moan that was louder than intended. He was moving at an antagonizing pace. “Please, Josh.” You whined. You needed more, you were so desperate for something.

“Please what, baby?”

“I need more. Please.” He pushed another finger into you, increasing his speed. “Fuck! That feels so good.” You moaned. You could feel the warmth blossoming in your belly, getting closer and closer to your release. He knew it, he knew your body so well. He could feel you squeezing his fingers, and just as you were about to come, he removed them. “No! No, no. Please Josh. I was so close”

“Soon, mama. Let me take care of you.” he leaned in, kissing you much softer than before. You whined into his mouth, bucking your hips in an attempt to relieve your desperation. He was just as desperate as you, if not more. You could feel the heat radiating from his cock.

“I need you Josh. I need your cock, please.” You begged. He pulled down his pants along with his boxers and released his achingly hard cock. His head was red and dripping with pre cum, begging to be touched. You reached your hand down and stroked him delicately. “Fuck. Your hands feel so good, baby, but I need to be inside of you.” He lined his cock up with your entrance and bottomed out. You both groaned in sync. He was stretching you out so good.

“Please move Josh.” You begged, and he obliged. He moved slowly, picking up his pace. This was different, he was going slow but so deep compared to usual, where he would mercilessly fuck you. You used your legs that were wrapped around his waist to bring him in closer, digging your nails into his back. He moaned into your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Your orgasm was approaching quickly after having it taken away a mere five minutes ago. It was so rushed but you couldn’t care less, you just needed him.

“Faster Josh, I’m so close. Fuck!” He did as he was asked, thrusting into you faster. He grabbed your leg and chucked it over his shoulder, somehow achieving an even deeper angle than before. “Jesus Christ, Josh. You feel so good.” Your head rolled back into the cushions behind you as you quickly approached your long awaited orgasm.

“You gonna come for me? Give it to me, mama. I need to feel you come around my cock.” Josh’s words of encouragement threw you over the edge and caused you to come, hard. You don’t even know if you were actually saying anything or if you were just making noises, but you didn’t care. He fucked you through it, picking up his pace as he chased his own orgasm. “I’m close, baby. Can you give me one more?” You nearly cried when he said that. You were beyond fucked out, the alcohol from earlier starting to tire you out.

“I can’t, Josh.” You whined. His hips were faltering now, giving him away. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth was hanging open. “You can, I know you can. C’mon, mama. Just one more for me. You feel so good. Be good for me, please” his voice was strained, which encouraged you even more. You could feel yourself getting closer. He reached his hand down to your clit and within seconds you were coming again. You saw stars, your legs clamped around his waist even harder as you came. You were shouting his name like a mantra as he thrusted into you at a merciless pace, chasing his own release. You felt him twitch inside of you.

“Fuck! I’m gonna come�� he groaned as he stilled inside of you, releasing his hot spurts of cum. His head dropped to the crook of your neck as he worked himself through his orgasm. You both stilled as you caught your breath and he rolled off of you.

He wrapped his arms around you and brought you closer, kissing your forehead gently. “I’m sorry for earlier. I love you.” You smiled up at him and ran your fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay. I love you too, Josh.” You cuddled into him.

‘This feels so right.’ He leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to your lips whilst he caressed your face. He pulled away and his eyes were filled with nothing but love.

“How does a shower sound?” He suggested, a cheeky glint in his eyes. You grinned up at him and peeled yourself away from his embrace. “I’ll race you.” You giggled, quickly getting up and giving yourself a head start.

“Oh, you’re on!” He chased after you, laughing to himself.

‘This feels so right.’ He thought, too.

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geminisecrets · 9 months

Text

You First

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! NSFW! Explicit sexual content, coarse language, oral sex, unprotected sex, mild drug and alcohol use, dirty talk idk I think that's it???

Word Count: 4750

Summary: friends with benefits turns complicated when someone's keeping a secret <3

Authors Note: It has been a long time!!! We really are amazed with the writers on here who never lose motivation and always put out the bangers, you guys make it look so easy and that's really cool!! But, alas, we have missed this and are happy to be getting back into the swing of things! We love you guys :')

Y’all are super duper fuckin' rad for telling us what you think about our stuff. ☯️

Requests are open :)

Join our tag list ✨

*disclaimer: apparently the gemini constellation is only seen in Dec/Jan but just pretend you can also see it in July gaslightgaslightgaslightgaskightgaslight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Jake, just tell me!” I laugh as Jake digs his fingers into my side, causing me to squeal louder.

“Some secrets are better kept…secret”, he responds with a grin on his face, finally easing up on me as I push him away. “Trust me.” I sit up straighter on his lumpy, familiar couch, but he doesn’t give me any more personal space. He has a way of doing that. Taking up my space. And I wish I could say it bothered me. “Besides, what if I was the one annoying the fuck out of you until you told me your deepest, darkest secrets?”

“First of all, drama queen, you never said this was a deep or dark secret, second, you know everything about me, I’m sure of it. I’m an open book. A free bird,” I respond enthusiastically, getting up off the couch and spreading my arms out like wings.

“Okay, free bird, you first. Are you going to admit you were faking your orgasm last night?” he asks, slouched into the couch, legs spread and hands folded in his lap. That same miserable grin is back on his face. I feel blood rush to my cheeks, coloring me guilty, immediately.

“Fine,” I shrug, attempting to appear unbothered. “Yes, I did. I was tired and you were taking too long.” His grin widens slightly, but his eyes squint as he reads me. It’s times like these, I wish he didn’t know me as well as he did. I really and truly do wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions tend to play on my face, like a movie screen. “Your turn,” I shift, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jake stands and closes the gap between us in two long strides. His nose is practically brushing mine, he’s so close before he says, “Nice try,” and walks past me into the kitchen.

“I’ll pry it out of you one way or another”, I say, following him begrudgingly.

Jake and I have known each other for years. He was my first crush in middle school, who turned into my first boyfriend in highschool and after graduation, my biggest heartbreak. We tried the whole dating thing, but it was bad for both of us. Jake is very demanding of time and attention. He’s passionate and jealous and honest. I, on the other hand, have always been more free spirited, tending to go with the flow. We’re completely different. Fire and ice.

I could sit here and tell you all the ins and outs of how he hurt me, how I hurt him, and all of the baggage that comes along with young love, but I’ll spare you the sob story. Just trust me when I tell you that Jake and I don’t do relationships well. Neither of us. I couldn't tell you the last time I had a boyfriend for longer than a month before it crashed and burned. And Jake? Jake’s exact words to me the last time I asked were, “I don't really do girlfriends.”

That hasn’t kept us from ignoring the obvious, though. No, we’re well aware of just how well we do fit together physically. Without saying it in so many words we’d become friends with benefits, fast. When I’m home from school and he’s in town, there aren’t many nights we spend without each other. Jake might be too prideful to admit the same, but I can say, honestly, that he’s by far the best sex I’ve ever had.

“What time is everyone supposed to be here?” I question, as I watch him unload the dishwasher, stacking his coffee cups in the annoyingly particular way he always does.

Jake’s throwing a small party tonight with some of our old mutual friends from home, since most everyone is in town for the fourth of July. The usual suspects will be here, I’m sure of it. We’ll fall back into old habits. Playing stupid drinking games until half of us can’t see straight and have to Uber home with our heads hanging out the window in a desperate attempt to dispel the nausea.

I however, know without a shadow of a doubt, as much as I stand at the mirror and tell myself I won’t, that I will be in Jake’s bed tonight instead of the Uber in question.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. “Come in!” Jake belts out.

“Long time no see!” Jake’s twin brother, Josh, calls from the front door with a lick of sarcasm under his tongue. He shuffles into the kitchen and unpacks what appears to be half of the entire liquor store onto the counter top.

Followed by Josh are Danny and Sam and their usual posse.They all say their hello’s and waste no time making their way into the kitchen to get the drinks flowing.

An hour later, the house is full and the laughs are loud. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the banter, the blaring music, the escape from reality and the ability this house, this town, has to make us all forget how much distance there really is between the lives we live now and the ones we left behind.

When it’s finally dark enough outside, we gather in the middle of the cul-de-sac and try our best to dodge the sparks flying off the dozens of fireworks Sam and Danny haphazardly detonate. Whoever decided to give control of the explosives to the two drunkest party guests should be criminally charged.

The party quiets down a little bit and migrates to Jake’s backyard. We sit around his dingy homemade fire pit and watch the rest of the fireworks go off all around the neighborhood. The joint being passed around mellows most of us out and we sit there with our heads on the backrest of our camp chairs, tilted to the sky.

“That right there is Gemini,” Sam says, pointing up towards the stars.

“Huh?” I overhear Jake question.

“The Gemini constellation, stupid. The twins?” he scoffs, sounding truly offended, as if this is common knowledge for just anyone.

“You sure you weren't just seeing fireworks?” Jake teases. Sam rolls his eyes into the back of his head and grunts out a rebuttal.

I think in Sam’s past-life he was some kind of hippie astronomer. He knows far too much about the cosmos for someone who decided against post secondary education. However, it’s a helpful tool to gauge just how far-gone Sam is. He always wants to talk about astronomy when he’s had one too many drinks.

The conversation merges into talk of the ‘Good Ol’ Days’ and it’s just a matter of time before–

“Remember when you and Jake tried dating?” Josh yells from the opposite side of the firepit, gesturing to me. There are a few chuckles and eye rolls from the group. Josh loves this story. Loves making me blush and riling his brother up.

I usually ignore it, but it drives Jake insane for some reason. He doesn’t always know how to keep his cool when he is annoyed, especially with his brother. “Is something funny?” he chides.

“Uh oh. Did I poke the bear?” Josh taunts, throwing me a wink.

I am all too familiar with their typical twin banter bullshit, I’ve been around it for years. They like to egg each other on until the other explodes, and if Josh keeps going, he’s going to get exactly what he’s wanting out of Jake.

“Come on, Josh, that topic is so tired, what about your tryst with that one guy…” Danny steps up to save the day and change the conversation as Jake turns to me.

“I’m tired,” he says quietly, yawning widely. Jake has a very small social battery and when he’s done, he’s done.

“Me too,” I breathe, catching his contagious yawn. As we stand to make our way inside, the rest of the party seems to naturally disperse as well. One by one, the party starts to fade out, until there is no one left but Sam.

“I have about $5 in my bank account so uber isn’t an option. Cool if I just crash in the guest room.” Sam says.

“Let me go grab my stuff out of there,” I offer, moving past him to reach for the door handle.

“Oh, shit, sorry I don’t want to put you out if that’s where you were planning on sleeping tonight,” Sam interjects.

“Sam, just go to bed,” Jake orders. I can’t tell if his curt response is due to the fact that I know he’s tired or if he doesn’t want to get into the logistics of exactly where I’d be sleeping instead.

Sam begrudgingly obeys and drags his near lifeless body into the bedroom. I follow him, flicking on the light and collecting my bag off the bed before wishing him goodnight. Before I even have the door completely closed, the light flickers off and we hear a loud thud.

“Jesus, it sounds like he catapulted himself onto the mattress,” Jake huffs out a lazy laugh, wiping away the sleep from his eyes and meanders into the bathroom.

“If I had nine shots of tequila and a rack of beers to myself, I’m sure I'd be doing the same”, I yawn, grabbing my bag and making my way to the living room.

I’ve almost got a little bed completely set up on the couch when Jake snatches the blanket from my hands.

“Come on,” he says, dragging my blanket down the hallway towards his room without muttering another word, let alone giving me half a second to respond. I follow him anyway, stopping in the doorway to watch him shuffle out of his jeans.

“Jake,” I nearly whisper. “If I sleep in here, will you tell me your secret?” I ask as coyly as I can muster at this ungodly hour in the middle of the night. His movements come to a halt when he pulls his shirt over his head, glaring at me.

“I think I’d tell you just about anything to get you to let me sleep,” he groans, but the upward tilt of a smile on his lips reassures you that there’s no real malice behind his words.

I roll my eyes and finally close the door behind me. By the time I take my makeup off and change into a t-shirt, he’s already in bed with the lamp off and the TV on, playing his usual reruns of Shameless. I crawl into bed next to him, and make myself comfortable.

This is…new for us. Sure, I’ve been in bed with Jake before, but not like this. This feels… domestic. Intimate in a way I’m not sure I know how to process. I peer up at Jake, watching him for a few moments as he watches the TV.

“So… this secret…” I coax.

“Hmm,” he barely acknowledges me.

“A deal’s a deal, Kiszka,” I remind him, shifting up on my elbow, my head in my hand, waiting for him to come clean.

“I don’t remember making any deals with you, succubus,” he suppresses a grin as he lazily tosses his arm up and under his pillow, eyes still fixed on the TV.

“I’m in your bed, aren’t I?” I ask, “Now it’s your turn to–”

“I’m pretty sure my exact words were ‘I’d tell you just about anything’. Emphasis on the ‘just about’ part.”

“Are you—”

“You’re gonna have to work a little harder than that,” he breathes out, no longer attempting to hide the smile that’s creeping onto his lips.

I let out a ‘humph’ and fall flat onto my back, arms crossed. I lay there awake for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the ever soothing sounds of Southside Chicago from the TV.

There’s a kind of tension in the room that I don’t think either of us can really place. Sexual tension is not something Jake and I are strangers to. I’ve felt that with him since the day we met. This is not that. This feels tethered to something much deeper.

I think about giving up and calling it a night, but the longer I lay there the harder it is for me to fall asleep. Jake and I don’t do feelings. We’re friends, sure. Friends who have casual sex, but the boundaries we have in place are all unspoken.

I finally work up the courage to break the silence by rustling the sheets as I change positions to lay on my side, facing him. Lazily, he turns his head to look at me. His expression is blank as he waits for me to say something and I become increasingly aware of how close his face is to mine.

“What are you hiding, Jake?” I ask as I intertwine my leg with his under the covers. I feel my breath bounce off of his lips and back on to mine. He scoffs, turning his face back toward the ceiling and pinching the bridge of his nose as if I’m pestering him like a small child.

I maneuver myself even closer to him, my lips latching on to his neck, peppering kisses in a routeless path between his ear lobe and collar bone. I hear him exhale through barely parted lips as he relaxes into my advances.

“Sleepy?” I ask, not-so-subtly propositioning him.

“Not anymore,” he responds, tucking his hair behind his ear and sitting up on his elbows.

I shrug the covers off of myself and maneuver on top of him until I’m straddling his waist. His hands palm my naked thighs as I reach for the hem of his worn t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head.

I let him pull mine off as well and his hands latch on to my breasts almost instantly. Shaking my head, I peel them off of me and place them at his sides, holding them down tightly at the wrist. He gives me a look of confusion and I try and fail to suppress a grin as I lean in to kiss him.

His lips move slowly but persistently against mine and part for me immediately as I lick into his mouth. His tongue slides against my teeth and I take the opportunity to bite down on it gently, causing him to groan into my mouth.

“Jake,” I sigh into his mouth, swiveling my hips against his as I feel him, semi hard between my legs. His hands twitch under my grip.

“Let me touch you,” he breathes, biting down on my lower lip as he pleads.

“No,” I whisper back, kissing him harder as I fall into a rhythm with my hips. Reaching between us, I pull my panties to the side and position myself directly on top of his hard dick, the only thing separating him from my wet core is the thin fabric of his boxer briefs.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, eyes squeezing shut.

“No, no,” I reach my free hand up to take his jaw in my grip, the other hand still holding his arm down at his side. “Eyes on me.” His eyes meet mine again as my mouth falls open. A silent gasp escapes me as I slide my wet core against the material of his covered cock. I release his wrist and jaw in favor of placing both hands on his bare chest. “Oh my God, Jake,” I whimper, closing my eyes and tossing my head back. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t putting on a bit of a show. “You’re so hard,” I sigh.

“Can I please fuck you?” he asks breathlessly beneath me, hands knotted obediently in the sheets at his side.

“Hmmm,” I consider, “how could I let you fuck me when you’re keeping all these big secrets?” He glares at me before reaching up and taking me by the waist, knocking me on my back until he’s hovering over me.

“You like secrets,” he reminds me, lips at my ear, sucking on my earlobe before licking a stripe down my neck.

“Do I?” I question, letting myself fully melt into the feeling of his lips and tongue and hands on me while he’s not seeing just how much I’m enjoying it.

“Mhm…or did you want Sam to know what we’re up to in here?” He asks, right hand tugging at my nipple while the other still holds me around my waist, trapped between me and the mattress. I roll my eyes, causing him to pinch my nipple tighter. The sound I let out is somewhere between a moan and a yelp and I clamp my hand over my mouth instantly. Jake giggles, letting his head drop to my chest, kissing at the skin he’d just pinched. “See, secrets are fun. Necessary, even.”

He continues kissing down my body until he reaches my underwear. Looking up at me through his eyelashes, he takes the elastic between his teeth and pulls them down as far as he can before finishing the job with his hands.

When I’m bare and naked before him, he parts my legs wide enough for him to settle between them. “How do you want it tonight?” He asks. This is new territory for us. We don’t… take it slow. We don’t ask questions and, in fact, this is only maybe the second time we’ve ever hooked up in an actual bed. Closet, car, tent, couch, sure. The bed feels… intimate. Where we’re usually rushed and frantic, simply trying to get each other off, we’re now slowing down, touching softly and intentionally.

“Uhm,” I start, not sure how exactly to answer the question. Feeling out of control, I panic, sitting up and taking his face in my hands. My lips crash against his and he’s caught off guard as I press him back against the mattress.

“Not what I was thinking, but I’m not complaining,” Jake smirks, relaxing into the mess of bed sheets, his eyes still tracking my every move.

I make my way down the expanse of his chest to his cock, freeing him from those damned briefs. I don’t waste time pressing my lips to his tip, gently sucking. I watch as his breath causes his abdomen to flutter, up and down. Admiring the way his hip bones jut out on especially deep or sharp inhales. The second his hands are in my hair, I slide him down the back of my throat.

His hips immediately buck upwards as he thrusts himself deeper into my mouth, and I hear him mutter out words of admiration and praise.

“Oh fuck”, “deeper”, “slower”, he doesn’t stop. He’s always been vocal during sex and I can’t get enough of it.

I pull him out of my mouth the second I sense he’s enjoying it a bit too much; moving back up towards him. His hands are still in my hair, but move down the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. His tongue meets my lips first and then slides under mine like velvet as he slowly repositions me until my back is pressed into the mattress; him hovering over me.

“How bad do you wanna know?” He breathes, eyes meeting mine before his head dips to press wet, sucking kisses to the curve of my neck. I feel myself losing the control I had over this situation, but I can’t seem to make myself care. He lowers himself onto his elbows so that his body is flush with mine. I can feel him, hard, pressed against me.

“Bad,” I mutter, reaching down between us in an attempt to slide him inside of me.

“Ah-ah,” he shifts his hips back, away from me. “Sounds like you’re gonna have to earn it tonight.”

“Earn it?” I ask, trying to focus as his head slowly snakes down my body until I feel his lips press warm kisses on the inside of my thighs.

“Sh”, he silences me. His two fingers dive into my core, and he scissors them, stretching me the way he knows I like. He takes a moment to pull his hair back into a loose bun and he smiles when I make a crack about things getting serious. His tongue finally licks a stripe up my center, pressing hard and flat against my clit, his fingers simultaneously pumping in and out of me.It doesn’t take long for me to get there. I’m close. So close, already.

I feel my legs tense and clench around the sides of his face and my breathing hitches frantically. He uses it to his advantage, pulling me closer by the hips and nearly suffocating himself with me. His palms press against my stomach, holding me firmly in place while I ride out my orgasm.

When he pulls away, he crawls over me and lays his chest against mine. His lips press against the shell of my ear and I feel his breath echo as I stare at the ceiling and try to gather myself.

“I fucking love the sounds you make when you finish”, he whispers as he huffs out a laugh. He uses a free hand to brush the hair off of my neck, tucking it behind my ear.

“Hmmm,” I smile a hum against his shoulder, “probably almost as much as I love hearing you whimper for me.

He scoffs, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “I do not whimper.”

“Wanna bet?” I ask, pressing against his shoulders, pushing him back against the bed.

“Be gentle with me,” he teases. Teases, because he and I both know he prefers me to be far from gentle.

Without another word, I line myself up over top of him and tease him at my entrance. His hips buck up against me immediately, and there's that little gasp. That throaty, breathy puff of air that pours out from between his lips, reminding me that at the end of the day, he really is putty in my hands.

“This gentle enough?” I ask, peeking down through my lashes at him. “Can I make you feel good, now?” I grind my hips downward, my wetness sliding against the length of him as my mouth opens, jaw falling slack, mimicking his. I nod my head slowly, grinning when I finally hear the faintest whisper of a whimper. There it is.

“So impatient,” I grin, only half joking, but he proves my point when, seconds later, he grabs my hips and slams himself into me. My back arches immediately as I let out a loud moan and I hear him gently mock me. He thrusts into me, taking back all that power I had over him, reminding me this time, that I’d do absolutely anything to keep him exactly where he is, inside me, for as long as possible.

Feeling unsteady at this pace, he’s set, I reach behind me to grab his calves for support, hoisting myself up. I let my head fall back as I feel his cock stretch me better at this angle.

“Oh my God, Jake,” I whine, “I c– I can’t–”

Before I can blink, I’m falling swiftly to the mattress below me. I squeal as he grabs my legs behind the knees and folds them up against my chest. He takes his cock in his hand and circles it around my clit, my body pulsing every time I feel the soft head of his cock pass over that ever sensitive bundle of nerves.

“So pretty,” he breathes out, “all of this for me?” He asks, more of a statement than a question, dipping himself into the pool of wetness at my entrance, causing my breath to hitch as he stretches me slowly. I look up to see him grinning and staring at my face, eager for praise and compliment. So I give him just that.

“All for you,” I respond, completely breathlessly. “You’re so good, so so good, best fuck I’ve ever had,” I gasp as he finally pushes himself all the way inside of me, right to the hilt.

I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me, even with the quick snap of his hips. My head starts to bang against the headboard and I would laugh if I wasn’t fully and completely on another planet.

Thankfully he notices without me even saying a word and drags me further down the bed with just one arm around me.

“Sorry, baby,” he grunts, “lemme make you feel better,” his thumb reaches down to press circles against my clit, and I swear to God I see stars.

“Gonna cum again, for me?” He asks, once again, knowing the answer to his own question as he knows my body better than I know it myself. “Wait for me.”

He leans down, breathing heavily against my chest as his sweat slicked forehead rubs against the beads of sweat on my neck. It’s messy and it’s hot and it’s fast as he presses wet kisses to my skin. Somehow, he maintains the perfect pace and I feel him begin to twitch as he lets out a moan, muttering sweet praises into my ear. “Yes, baby. Good girl. So good for me.”

He continues to fuck into me for a moment longer until he feels me cumming again, pushing himself deeper into me, harder, exactly how I like it. He waits a few beats as we catch our breath, enjoying the closeness. He pulls out of me and we both collapse on the bed next to each other until the silence in the room is stiff enough to choke me.

“Can I ask you something?” I question, taking his silence as permission. “Why do you let Josh get under your skin so much?” he turns his head toward me, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, a hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I was– inside you, thirty seconds ago and you’re asking about my brother?” A loud laugh bubbles out of me at his blunt response, but I continue,

“Sorry, timing is weird, I know, but I was thinking, like…” I swallow, directing my attention to the chipping nail polish on my pointer finger, feeling suddenly small under the weight of his stare. “I feel like every time he brings us up, you get weird.”

Jake’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head like some kind of unofficial response.

“Okay fine maybe it’s not Josh, but the subject?” I push further, daring to meet his eyes again.

“Damn, you aren’t gonna give this up, are ya?” He huffs.

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk about that, then at least give me my fair share of the deal.” I lift up on my elbow to peer down at him. “I’d say I more than earned this secret.” I smile.

He looks up at me and for a moment, I can tell he's looking at more than my face. His eyes drift to the hollow of my collar bones, the hairs falling out of the disaster of a ponytail it was in, the space between my ear and neck that he’d breathed quiet promises into just minutes ago.

“What if the two are connected?” He asks, finally. When I give him a look of confusion, he continues, “the way we used to be and– and the secret?”

“I’m listening,” I feel my heart begin to beat just a touch faster, my cheeks warming ever so slightly. He leans up to mirror my position, his eyes meeting mine at a direct level.

“I guess I was just hoping it wasn’t really a secret at all,” he says, eyes searching mine, practically begging me to understand what he’s not saying. The air is heavy and thick between us. He swallows hard as I begin to realize what he’s alluring to.

“Forget it, I–” he begins, breaking our eye contact, ready to make up some lame excuse about being tired and choosing to talk about it in the morning.

“I love you too, Jake,” I blurt out before I can chicken out.

And I will never– ever forget his face when he looked back up at me in that moment.

Because I was finally able to answer, in one sentence, the question he’d been asking for years and years. “Do you love me, like I love you?” Yes, resoundingly and conclusively, yes.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@doodle417 @gvfrry @spicedandicedtea @yeehawbesties @samkiszkalover @gretavansteph @mannick @theweightofjake @basiccortez @lallisonl @sammiejane22 @sammyslappers @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @keighoe @myownparadise96 @gretavanbitches @s0livagant @aconfusedhippie @jordierama @writingcold @fuzzybatpersonafan @mamalikes-gvf @laurenlovesgretavanfleet @alwaysonthemend @saoirsemaeve

#greta van fleet fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #gvf smut #gvf imagine #josh gvf #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fan fiction #gretavanfleet #greta van fleet #greta van smut

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builtbybrokenbells · 5 months

Text

CAPITAL VICES | LUST

Lust: a strong passion or longing, especially for sexual desires.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it), fingering (f!recieving) oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), face-fucking, dom/sub, bratty sub, dirty talk, name calling, hint of degradation, praise, sir kink, choking, impact play, touch of cum play, hookups/fwb, drinking, mentions of drugs/drug use/addiction, swearing, a painful amount of flirting (player Jake is my weakness btw), sorry if I miss any!

here we go again. i know i said i might not be posting much but i finished this up and I couldn’t help myself. my apartment is about half packed so this was a little reward for myself lol 🥰 im thrilled about this series, and I really hope you guys are too. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

The room was packed with bodies desperate for a thrill, but most were in active search with little knowledge of how they would attain it. Some were drowning their sorrows in tequila shots while others danced away their memories, clinging on to a companion who would only temporarily solve their troubles for the night. You couldn’t blame them for giving it their best shot; even you knew that pain was more digestible when there was someone to accompany you through it. In the morning when they woke, it would return with a fervent appetite. It would snowball, feeding viciously off the shame brewing from a one night stand that could not even give them an orgasm. For the time being, they seemed content with their watered down drinks and 80’s hits playing through the system with a stranger wrapped around them. They tried not to think of the future, but it was still weighing heavily in the back of their minds. You knew they would regret it, and so did they, but they were unwilling to own the truth.

Others found their thrills in more nefarious ways, like the couple who was engaging in all but penetrative sex in the booth in the back corner. They thought the crowd would cover their show of desperation for each other, conceal them from curious eyes, but they were stealing spotlight even in the near pitch black room. Some were doing lines in the bathroom, hoping that life would get a little more interesting with the next hit all while promising themselves sobriety when the night came to an end. Despite their beliefs that they would stop their ‘recreational’ doses when the sun rose in the sky, everyone (including themselves) knew the reality of the situation; they were decomposing at the hands of substance abuse. They weren’t willing to admit to their own addiction, but most would succumb to the sickness and end up washed up in rehab after their spouses or parents reached the point of no return.

Violence even seemed to spark interest in a young pair of boys just outside, throwing fists in hopes of asserting dominance, yet only making fools of themselves in front of their dates. It was an embarrassing show of missed punches and drunken rage, but somehow it tickled them just right. They would go home pleased with themselves, proud that they ‘stood their ground’ (what they were defending, you weren’t certain of) and their dates would complain to their friends about it. After a week of missed calls and messages, the young boys would begin to understand that their temper tantrums were not good foreplay and would vow to learn their lesson. Until the next night of drinking draft and watching football on a bar television, of course.

No matter which way, every person in the bar was in search of something more, something to give them a spark of life back and a memory to tell later on down the line. None of them could admit that their entertainment for the night would do neither of those things. Instead, they would have a nasty hangover and a looming sense of dread hanging over them for the foreseeable future. That’s the thing about materialistic thinking; it always leaves you unfulfilled and in search of more. The people that came to the bar miserable would ultimately leave the same way, yet they would never admit that their ways were no longer working for them. Maybe in their teens or early twenties real memories could be made over cheap tequila and hookups, and if not memories, lessons for certain. After twenty five, it just seemed a little sad to continue down the same path of destruction in hopes for anything meaningful.

You were not at the bar for a thrill. You were there for one reason; to pass the time, and to get a good buzz. Dancing was never your forte, nor was it your passion to do drugs off the back of a dirty bar toilet. Company was low on your list of priorities and always had been. You learned many years ago that you would never find a suitable life partner at a dive bar just off of Main Street in a big city. Establishments like such only ever seemed to attract college attendees and middle aged men who hated spending time with their wives. Even when a promising suspect would turn up, eventually they would show the side of them that made it impossible to keep a girlfriend. Getting to know people was a drag, and the thought of making room in your apartment for a second person was more sickening than anything else. You liked your personal space, and you liked peace. When adding a new person to your life, you were risking it all, and risk something that never peaked your interest.

Whiskey was something that caught your attention though, and when it was cheap, it only made you more inclined to indulge. You had learned long ago that this particular dive bar had the cheapest stock around, and they didn’t skip out on quality, either. They seemed to save their money by neglecting building maintenance, but that didn’t bother you in the slightest. You could get drunk in a five star hotel for triple the price, and you’d still be drunk. You tried not to think about the soles of your shoes sticking to the dirty floor or the outdated interior design, and the drink in your hand aided the process sufficiently.

“Another?” The bartender asked as he nodded towards your empty glass.

“You know me too well, Ray.” You chuckled, sliding him the empty glass. He grabbed it, barely leaving your side before another was sat in front of you.

“What can I say? You’re my favourite regular.” He smiled. Both of you knew this was the truth; you appeared every weekend, sitting in the same spot and drinking the same thing, and you never made a peep aside from the small talk initiated by the workers. You were a certain tip, and if he had the luxury of being blunt, the prettiest face to look at in the crowd.

“You’re just saying that because I tip well.” You grinned, sipping away at the beverage he’d made for you.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” you shook your head “just pointing out the obvious.” He chuckled, throwing a towel over his shoulder before moving on to the next customer. You knew when the night dwindled down, he’d be back over to chat with you. Some would have shame in admitting that their closest friend was a 60 year old bartender, especially as a young woman, but you didn’t care. With him, you were never required to entertain any meaningful conversation or profess your darkest secrets. It was simple, lighthearted, and it served you well. You had no obligation to continue the friendship outside of the bar, and you got to see pictures of his grandkids. It was a win-win for everyone.

You barely looked up from your phone when the seat beside you was taken by another. You thought it odd for him to feel inclined toward that specific seat considering the bar was full of vacant space, but you didn’t think too hard about it. Drunk people didn’t care much about social cues, and you didn’t care enough to argue with them. What you did care for was the overwhelmingly strong scent of the patrons cologne, which seemed to be choking you the longer you breathed it in. It was not unpleasant; far from it, really, but it was very apparent. You weren’t sure if he doused himself in it before making an appearance at the bar, or if it was just so strong because of his close proximity. You buried yourself in your drink instead of investigating any further, knowing that someone who smelled so heavenly would only be looking for trouble.

“Any recommendations?” The voice struck you like a bolt of lightning, strong and without any warning. At first, you had doubts that the words were pointed in your direction, but when you felt a pair of eyes staring holes into your skull, you knew you were mistaken. You looked over at him, curious about the nature of his question. Surely any man who stepped foot into a bar already had an idea of what he wanted to drink. You doubted that the conversation starter was about alcohol, and was most likely a way to initiate a round of unbearable flirting.

“Depends.” You breathed, finding yourself completely distracted by the beauty of his face. His long brown hair was framing his face, and his smile was breathtaking. “What kind of night are you trying to have?”

“I’m open to suggestions.” He said, eyes lingering over the features of your face. He seemed just as enthralled in you as you were with him, and neither of you seemed keen on hiding it.

“Well, if you’re looking to dance, try the house tequila.” You started, flickering your eyes towards the wall of liquor bottles. “Seems like the draft here makes a person want to get in a fight, and the gin will leave you crying in the bathroom. Speaking of the bathroom, if you’re looking for some non-liquid solutions to your problems, there’s plenty in there, but I don’t know how much they’re willing to share.” He let out a laugh at your joke, but you were unsure if it was due to his shared sense of humour or because he wanted to get in your pants. Either way, it was a nice stroke to the ego. Even if it was due to a desire for sex, it was nice to feel appreciated, especially by someone so captivating.

“A lady that knows her liquor,” he noted, giving a slow nod. “I can appreciate that.”

“You asked, I answered.” You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. “So what is it, then? Dancing, fighting, or crying?”

“None of them.” He assured you. “What if I’m looking to impress someone? Any suggestions for that?” You pretended to ponder the question before giving him an answer.

“I guess that would depend on who you’re trying to impress?” You raised an eyebrow, appearing more inquisitive than you truly were. He was handsome, and that was no secret, but it was not what you were looking for.

“You have lots of questions.”

“I can say the same about you.” You took a sip of your drink, your mouth watering at the potency of the liquid. Or, maybe it was because of the heavy-lidded gaze he was casting your way.

“If I was trying to impress a very attractive woman who’s looking at me like I’m an idiot, what do you think I should order to change her mind?” He asked, his eyes never leaving your face. You let out a small sigh, giving a shrug of your shoulders as you took another drink. Instead of replying, you turned back to face the bar, leaving him alone with his own thoughts. When the bartender came to take his order, he was still waiting for a reply. “I’ll take two of whatever she’s having.” The unnamed man said, hoping to grab your attention again.

“So, I’m the very attractive woman?” You asked, refusing to turn back to look at him. When the drinks were placed in front of him and he slid one your way, your question was given an indefinite answer. “What if you can’t change my mind?” You posed the idea to make him sweat, but his rebuttal was effortless.

“I have the rest of the night to keep trying, then.” Another smile twisted onto your lips, finding his charm irrefutable. Even if you weren’t interested in anything further than a simple conversation, you had to admit the effort was admirable.

“I wasn’t looking at you like you’re an idiot, by the way.” You said, swishing the ice around your glass. “Maybe I thought you were a little dumb, but not an idiot.”

“That’s a relief.” He said, a smile tugging on his lips, too. His response to your humour was definitely intriguing, and you were quite interested in his relaxed expression. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Y/n,” you said, finally accepting the glass he’d pushed in your direction after draining your own. He watched you, finding your lack of reciprocal attention peculiar, yet it only seemed to spark his interest even more.

“Are you going to ask for mine?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, debating his words before giving a shake of your head. “No.”

“Playing hard to get?” He joked, sipping away at his own whiskey.

“Just don’t care.” You shrugged. It was the truth; you weren’t doing so in attempt to play hard to get, but because you did not want to be caught at all. You had no interest in playing the game of cat and mouse, because you did not intend to leave the bar with anybody. You had a date with your bed and hopes of a good nights rest. You could not do that if you were busy wrapped around another. As attractive as he was, you weren’t willing to double back on your promises to yourself. Instead, you decided that it was best to stop any further attempts to change your mind.

“Ouch.” He chuckled, waiting to see if you were joking or not. You kept your head straight, wondering if you should leave before he continued on his tyrant. Then again, he was in your bar and this was your seat, so if anyone was leaving, it was not going to be you.

Your stubbornness was your biggest weakness, but you were too stuck in your own way to see the issue. As if the gods planned such a gruesome match from the very beginning, the only rival to your own obstinacy was the one living inside the man sat beside you. You were not willing to give in, and he was not willing to give up.

“Are you from here?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that if you kept your answers short he might take the hint.

“I just moved here, thought I’d check out the town, maybe meet some new people.” You gave a slow nod, eyes now focused on the football game playing on the television above the bar. You hated football, but you hated entertaining men even more. You’d rather watch a bunch of grown men fight over a ball than engage in any kind of small talk. “Not a talker, I see.”

“Usually that means you should move on and try again with someone else.” You said, picking away at the basket of French fries sat in front of you. If there was one thing the bar did that was just as good as cheap liquor, it was deep fried foods.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” He suggested. “Nobody else in here is worth the time.”

“And I am?” You chuckled, watching the team with red jerseys score a point. “You don’t even know me. I might be a serial killer, or even worse, celibate.”

“I’d like to know you.” He offered. “What makes you think that I’m looking for sex?” You looked over your shoulder at him, taking in his attire. You looked closely at the chains dangling around his neck, drawing attention to his shirt that was buttoned only up to his stomach. His dress pants looked name brand, and his eyes screamed flirtatiously at you when you locked your stare with him. He was radiating sex appeal, which argued your case for you.

“I bet you have two condoms sitting in your wallet. You replaced them this morning, because last night, you went to a different bar and did the same thing with another girl who couldn’t see right through you.” You guessed, eyes flickering to the pocket of his pants where the bulge of his wallet sat. “It’s written all over you, honey. Stick to the college bimbo’s if you want to get anywhere worthwhile.”

“Two condoms?” He pondered the idea, a smirk growing on his face. “I take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.” You laughed, shaking your head at his undying commitment to knowing you. “It wasn’t meant as one.”

“Then it seems like you have a knack for making insults sound like a good thing.” His eyes flickered to your lips, his personality showing through the mask for a moment. He was enamoured with you, and he was from the minute he sat down. Your disinterest was not a deterrent to him, but rather a driving force. The banter was driving him crazy, and he was not willing to go home without you.

“Maybe you just have no idea how to take a hint.” You suggested the idea, but both of you knew he was painfully aware of the situation. He knew he could step back if he so pleased, but he did not want to, nor was it an option he was willing to consider. Oddly enough, you almost found it charming. His dedication was not creepy or anything like it, mostly because he was not using vulgarity as part of his charm. You knew if you got up and walked away, he would respect it. Unfortunately, he knew just as well as you did that you would never back down and give up your seat. You could complain all you wanted about his interest in you, but you were encouraging it by interacting with him. Even in your obvious rejection, he knew he had interested you enough for you to speak to him.

“I’m Jake.” He said, disregarding your comment.

“I said I didn’t care.”

“Never said you had to care.” He reminded, finishing his drink and raising a hand to call the bartender over again. You watched him, baffled at his carelessness towards your clear insults. It seemed to wash off of him like water on a duck’s back, barely touching his confidence and only fuelling him further. He ordered another round of drinks for both of you, not bothering to ask if you wanted another. As he spoke to the bartender, you couldn’t help but study him for a moment. He was gorgeously dressed, drawing attention to his stunning features as he topped it off with a cocky attitude. Everything about him was compelling, and even if you weren’t keen on his company, it was incredibly difficult to ignore him. He held himself with confidence, and because of that, he radiated power. You would be lying if you said you did not find him attractive, but it did not change the fact that you were not interested in pursuing anything with him, or anyone for that matter.

Ray placed your new drinks in front of you, wasting little time in busying himself with something else. You almost felt guilty for being so mean to Jake while he was funding your night of drinking, but you did not ask him to spend money on you. You did not even ask him to speak to you, yet it seemed like the only thing he wanted to do. “Thanks.” You said, looking down at the ice swirling in the amber liquid. Even if you didn’t want to engage in any kind of sexual relations with him, you still had manners.

“So, what are you here for, tonight?” He questioned, ignoring your gratitude. He did not want to be thanked for something he was more than happy to do. You raised an eyebrow, curious about his inquiry. “Well, you’re drinking whiskey, so clearly it’s not fighting, dancing, or crying.” You chuckled at his recollections of your earlier comment.

“I’m here for a cheap drunk.” You replied, honest with your answer. “Cheapest whiskey in town, and the regulars aren’t too bad, considering I’m one of them.” He nodded along with your words, soaking in all you were willing to share. “Every Friday, same bar, same seat, same shitty football games.”

“You’re saying I have another shot if I mess this up?” He gave a playful smile which you couldn’t stop yourself from returning.

“Sure, you can take as many shots as you want. It’ll be the same answer every time, I can promise you that.”

“We’ll see.” He answered as if it were a challenge and he was competing. You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back the expression. “Just a conversation, that’s all I’m asking for. After that, you can throw your drink in my face and forget about me in the morning.”

“I know that it’s more than a conversation to you, Jacob.” You shot back. People like him were predictable, even if they were charming. As much as you knew he would waste your time, you knew you were wasting his. It was in his best interest to find a girl who was more likely to go home with him, because he would inevitably leave the bar empty handed and wishing he had taken a chance on another.

“Sounds like you’re scared I’m going to change your mind.” Your spine straightened at the accusatory statement. You were not afraid, and you did not like being told by another what you were feeling. What you did like was a challenge, and now that he’d worded it as such, that was the only thing you could think of.

“Fine. Let’s talk.” You smacked your palms against the table, a course of energy running through your body. You swung your chair to face him, just so he knew you were fully immersed in him. If he wanted to have a conversation, you could do that. If he thought he could convince you to take a chance on him, you were more than willing to prove him wrong.

It was a mistake that could only be classified as a fatality.

“Where are you from, Jake?” You asked, trying your best to feign intrigue.

“Michigan.” He tried to hide the smirk growing on his lips, pleased that he managed to push the right buttons. “You?”

“Right here in Nashville. Born and raised, never left, don’t want to.” You explained, waiting for him to ask a question, now.

“What do you do for work?”

“Photography.” You replied, not willing to delve deeper into the subject.

“That’s really cool.” He noted, genuine interest showing in his face. “I’m a musician.”

“I see,” you hummed, knowing that it was just another reason for you to abstain from knowing him. Musicians were never good news, and growing up in Nashville, you’d learned that the hard way. Most people who chased after fame had little care for anything else, and they were destined to break hearts. “Let me guess, guitar?”

“How’d you know?” He asked, but he didn’t really think it was hard to guess. It was the most common instrument in the industry, and in Nashville, everyone played guitar.

“Lucky guess.” You joked. “Band or solo act?”

“Band, I’m no singer.” He laughed.

“Don’t need to sing to be a good guitarist.” You challenged.

“Good point,” he agreed. “We just moved here, thought it was time. We made a few albums, but we’re looking for something bigger.”

“Are you any good?” You sipped at your drink. The quick-fire questions were wearing you down and you needed a pick me up.

“I’d like to think so, but everyone has their own opinion.” You hummed in agreement, not willing to make a promise to listen to his music, but curious about his skill. “Maybe we could get you to do a photoshoot for us.”

“I’m out of your price range.” You teased, a smile on your lips. The conversation was not unbearable, but definitely was not something you came to the bar with intent to do.

“I’m sure we could figure out a suitable payment.” He said, unable to hold back the drop in his voice and the lustful twinkle in his eye. You watched him, wanting to chastise him for the flirting, but you felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in your stomach. You were immune to charm most of the time, but something about him was irresistible. You weren’t sure if it was the relaxed posture and the certainty in himself, or if it was the overwhelming beauty of him as a whole. Whatever it was, he was pulling you in without you even noticing. You were struggling to fight it mostly because it was so subtle. Before you could realize you were being trapped, there was no way you could escape.

“I thought this was just a friendly conversation, Jacob?” You couldn’t help the drawl in your tone that screamed for him to keep going. You wanted to blame it on the strength of the liquor in your cup lowering your inhibitions, mostly because you refused to admit it was solely due to his captivating stare.

“I don’t think I’m being unfriendly, sweetheart.” The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, so delightful even if it was filthy.

“Too friendly, perhaps?” You corrected. Both of you were leaning in to each other without even realizing it. The tension was thick in the air, and it had been from the moment he sat down. Even if you were not looking for anything more, you couldn’t deny the strength of the chemistry between you.

“What’s your issue with me?” He smirked, wanting to get to the bottom of it.

“It’s not you specifically.” You were truthful with your answer. It was not him, but rather dating as a whole. “The whole dating game was never my thing, and I don’t plan on getting into it, now.”

“Who said anything about dating?” He challenged.

“Nobody, but I don’t like hookups, either.” You explained. “Something about pointless small talk and meaningless sex never really interested me. Why would I want to tell you about myself now just to try to forget you in the morning?”

“I’d like to think that you’d have a hard time forgetting about me.” He was cocky, and that was for certain. It was something that would usually be a turn-off, but it looked so good on him that you couldn’t seem to shoot him down. “What about something in the middle?”

“What could possibly be in the middle of that?” You scoffed. “I don’t want a hookup, and I definitely don’t want to go to breakfast in the morning. I like my personal space, and I like being alone. Knowing you complicates that, and I hate complicated.”

“Do you like having friends?”

“I think I’d be a bit strange if I didn’t.” You replied. “But I know you’re not looking to be friends.”

“Do you like sex?” He continued his questioning without even acknowledging your concerns. Although it was blunt and definitely not a normal topic of conversation for two people who just met, it did not bother you.

“Most do.” You took another sip of your drink, the warmth spreading to your chest and replacing the burn of arousal brewing in your stomach. “Depends if it’s good or not.”

“We can be friends that have really good sex.” He offered, raising an eyebrow while he waited for a response. When you didn’t answer, he continued trying to sell the idea. “Casual, no strings attached whatsoever, but you wouldn’t need to forget about me, and we wouldn’t be obligated to go to breakfast in the morning.”

“How can I agree to that when I’m not even sure I want to be friends with you? More than that, I have no idea if you’re as good as you think you are. I don’t like being disappointed, Jacob.” You were calling a bluff you knew did not exist. He looked as if he was put on this earth to please others in ways many could never imagine. Just looking at his hands made your mouth water, already knowing the power he held in them. You couldn’t even think of anything further than that, because you knew that it would be far beyond anything you had ever felt before. You were trying not to crack under the pressure, but the thought of his head between your thighs was making it nearly impossible to breathe. “Besides, what if I’m not all you think I am? You don’t seem like the type to like disappointment, either.”

“From what I’ve seen, I don’t think you have it in you to disappoint, sweetheart.” His hand slowly reached out, fingers ever so slightly grazing the exposed skin on your leg. The touch was searing, painful but addicting. “I don’t like dating, but I do like you. I think it would be a shame if we never saw each other again.”

“Getting sick of playing the game every night?” You theorized. “Sounds like you’re getting lazy.” He shook his head, eyes seemingly staring into your soul as he watched your face.

“I just know what I want,” he corrected “and I don’t think I need to keep looking.” It was impossible to believe he was lying, because the look in his eye spoke certainty without him needing to say anything more.

“So, friends who have really good sex?” You clarified.

“Friends who have phenomenal sex, actually.” He said.

“I’m a busy woman, Jake. You better not be looking to waste my time.” You explained. “If I’m going to find time to entertain you, it better be worth it.”

“I’m a busy man,” he agreed “but I know how to make it worth your while.”

“Theoretically, if we did decide to do this, we’d just be having sex?” You asked, wanting to be certain of the situation. “You aren’t going to fall in love and fuck it all up?”

“I’m sure we can have a drink at the bar together every now and again. That’s where the friends part comes in, but yes, just sex.” He laughed. “I like you, I find you incredibly attractive and interesting, and I would like to see you again after tonight, but the same way we’re doing it right now. Maybe with less insults.”

“I can’t promise the insult thing.” You found yourself laughing alongside him. “You’re a very forward person, you know. We barely know each other.”

“I know you enough to know that I like you, and I also know that you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since moving here.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Jake.” You could feel your cheeks burning, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the alcohol or his sweet words.

“It’s worked so far.” He breathed, finding himself leaning closer to you. Your faces were inches apart, both of you able to close the gap with little struggle. His eyes were locked with yours, silently begging you to give in to him. You could feel him pulling you in, almost as if he had his own gravitational force and you were the only victim of it. Although, you knew that wasn’t true. With charm like his, you were sure that you were not the only one cowering underneath the weight of it. For tonight, you were his focus, but when the morning came, you figured he would forget the idea of casual sex and already be in search of another. Players loved to play, and they always fought dirty. You were certain he was just saying what he could to get in your pants and he would be a different person when you woke in the morning.

His hand slipped to your hip, the touch was euphoric even through the material of your dress. You wanted to give in, but you thought it was too good to be true. Someone interested in meeting your physical needs without imposing on your everyday routine seemed like a great idea, but it was so perfect that you had a hard time believing it could be so simple. Even considering your fears, the ache between your legs was impossible to ignore, and it had been a long time since you had felt pleasure at the hands of another. “This sounds like a bad idea.” You warned, eyes flickering to his lips. His nose was brushing against yours now, sending jolts of electricity through you.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered, so quiet that it was almost hard to hear him over the music playing in the background.

“Not really.” You laughed, but just barely. You were scared to move away, and you were scared to move forward.

“One night, and if you still think it’s a bad idea, we can just forget about it.” He offered, still so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. He smelled like whiskey, and you were sure you caught a hint of a Cuban cigar. He was intoxicating, more so than any alcoholic beverage you had consumed that night. Your head was spinning and your rationality was slipping away. You were enamoured with him, and you felt like you were completely consumed by his presence. The world stopped turning, the music stopped playing; the only thing you could hear was your heartbeat which was in time with his own.

“One night?” You breathed, coming to terms with the idea that he was inescapable. You knew you should have walked away when you had the chance, but there was a bigger part of you that was grateful you stayed. You had the opportunity to add some excitement to your life without changing anything at all. You didn’t come to the bar in search of a thrill, but Jake seemed to be promising enough. No worry of a hookup that left you unfulfilled and regretful, and no expectation for anything more. It was exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“One night. Trial run.” He reiterated, hoping to ease your mind. “That sound good to you, angel?” You went weak at the pet name, all of your willpower dissolving into an imminent need for more. You reached your hand up, cupping his cheek in your palm and bridged the gap between you. His fingers tightened on you, enthusiastic about your sudden change of heart. The kiss was laced with the weight of every sinful desire you had ever felt before, and even more than that. It was so profound that it made your chest ache and you feared that if there was a god, he would never forgive you for the sacrilegious things you so badly wanted to commit with the man before you. “Thought I couldn’t change your mind?” He asked, barely parted from you. You could feel him smirk against your lips, but it wasn’t even aggravating enough for you to care.

“Shut up and take me home, Jacob.” You said, unwilling to wait any longer in fear you might talk yourself out of it. Instead of a verbal response, he placed another kiss on your lips before turning to close out the tab you had run up. Within a few moments, your jacket was over your shoulders and he was calling you both a cab.

In the backseat of the car, you both tried your best to keep it PG, but the tension of the night was reaching a climatic end. His hand was permanently anchored on your thigh just under the skirt of your dress, fingertips dangerously close to the parts of you he was so desperate to know. Your hand was on his wrist, holding it tightly just to make sure he didn’t get any ideas that would get you in trouble. In hindsight, it was incredibly stupid for you to agree to go to a strangers house for the promise of sex. You had no idea if he was as genuine as he appeared, yet it seemed a bit too late for that concern. You also had no idea how he managed to coerce you into joining him, but a part of you was ecstatic that he did. The calloused fingertips dancing over the soft skin of your leg led you to believe that your decision would benefit you greatly, because no average person could produce such an impact with such a little effort.

Jake handed a bill to the driver once the car was parked in the driveway of an apartment complex. He didn’t wait for the change, but did utter a small thanks before rushing out to open your door for you. “A gentleman.” You noted. He gave a chuckle, slipping his arm around your waist as he guided you towards the door. He let you both inside, keeping quiet as he led you to his apartment. He unlocked his door, holding it open for you and allowing you to go first. You took in the sight, noticing the simplistic nature of the decor as you took off your shoes.

“It’s not much, but it’s home.” He said, flipping on a light for you.

“No, it’s cute. I like it.” You assured him, feeling nervousness begin to creep in. The air smelled like him, but you couldn’t place the familiarity. It was earthy, smoky, and overall enticing. In the kitchen, you noticed a couple frames on the walls with pictures of him and three other boys. Your eyes lingered over the faces, smiling as you studied them. You turned your head to look into the living room, noticing a record player under the dim yellow lighting of a lamp. There was a few posters splayed on the walls and a couple plants sitting on the windowsills. It was not what you were expecting, but you thought it was effortlessly him. You did not know him very well, but from what you knew of him, the vibe seemed to match the personality.

His hand landed on your lower back, causing you to jump slightly under his touch. “You okay?” He asked, looking down at you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to cover up the anxious look on your face. “You’re not… you’re not going to kill me, are you? Because that would suck.” He let out a laugh, a true one that was loud and came straight from his chest.

“No, sweetheart, I can promise you I’m not going to kill you.” He said, turning you to face him. You looked up at him, seeing genuineness written all over his expression. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before taking your chin between his fingers. “You don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Okay,” you sighed, feeling relief flood your body. You knew that it was irrational, but hearing the words of comfort helped. He leaned down, placing a kiss on your lips as reassurance. “Is that the rest your band in those pictures?” You asked, finding the courage for conversation again. He looked to the frames, nodding his head.

“Yeah.” Without hesitation, he guided you towards them so you could get a closer look. “That one’s Josh, he’s my twin brother. He sings.” He pointed at the boy with short, curly hair. You did notice how similar their faces looked now that you were a bit closer. You thought it was cool that he was a twin, and you wondered if his brother had the same irrefutable charm. “That one is Sam, he’s my youngest brother, and he plays the bass.” He pointed towards the tall boy with long, brown hair. They also looked strikingly similar, and if he hadn’t already told you that Josh was his twin, you might have mistaken Sam to be one. “And that’s Daniel, our drummer. He’s Sam’s best friend, but he’s more like a brother, too.”

“That’s really cool, actually.” You said, looking back over at him. “You guys won the genetic lottery, looks and talent-wise.” The hand he had resting on your back tightened at the compliment as a smile began to blossom on his face. You could tell how much the other three boys meant to him without him even saying a word. “So, do you do this tour with everyone you bring home, or am I just special?”

“No, you’re just special.” He said without missing a beat. You felt your cheeks tinge red at his words, not expecting him to be so blunt. “Besides, friends need to know each other, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You suddenly remembered that you were not there with the intent of being a one night stand. You would have asked him more, but you had a sneaking suspicion the tour was coming to an end. You both seemed to overcome your streak of anxiety and remembered the state that you arrived in. “So, are you going to prove that you weren’t bluffing, or are we just going to stand here all night?” He looked down at you, intrigued in your change of direction.

“Do you think I was bluffing?” He asked, shifting to face you. You looked up at him, giving a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“If the shoe fits.” You barely had time to process his reactive expression, because his hands were on your hips and his mouth was on your own. With the new found freedoms of privacy, desperation made its first appearance of the night. His hands were groping you with a feral attitude, and yours were doing just the same. It took no time for you to undo the buttons of his shirt, brushing it off his shoulders with excitement to see more. He let go of you only for long enough to slip the fabric off his body, then his hands returned to you in the same fervent manner.

The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, pulling you further into his web and trapping you there for eternity. You knew that despite your promises of only spending a single night together, you would be crawling back to him begging for more before the morning even came. In the (very) short time you’d known him, it was incredibly apparent to you that he was an addiction that was impossible to overcome. He was injecting himself into your veins, burrowing under your skin and filling your lungs with his being. You weren’t sure if it was purposefully, or if it was just an extension of his outlandish charm.

He took you by surprise, his grip tightening on your hips just before he lifted you with ease. He took a few steps forward, sitting you gently on his kitchen counter. He was quick to find home between your legs, never once breaking the kiss. You let your fingers dance over his now bare bicep, wanting to familiarize yourself with every part of him. When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless with stars in your eyes. “Do you still think I’m bluffing, or do I have to prove myself?”

“If I say no, it would ruin all the fun.” You sighed, still trying to catch your breath.

“I guess it’s a good thing I was going to prove it, anyway.” His fingers snaked under your dress, creeping up to your hip where the elastic of your underwear was resting. He hooked them through the side, but did not go any further. “Let’s go over some rules, first.”

“I hate rules,” you said, only focused on the sensation of his fingers resting on your bare skin. “They’re meant to be broken, anyway.”

“Not with me, sweetheart.” He chuckled, his other hand guiding your chin up so you would keep your eyes locked with his. “I’m going to be easy on you, but I need you to be honest with me about what you want. Got it?”

“Okay.” You nodded, the power in his gaze making your squirm underneath him.

“Remember your colours. Green means keep going, yellow means slow down, red means stop. Never, never be scared of telling me to stop or slow down.” The topic was not up for debate, and you were under clear understanding of what he needed from you.

“Okay.” You repeated, nodding your head against his hold. “Any other colours I should know?”

“How about blue, for ‘this is the best sex I’ve ever had’?” He smirked, playfulness sparkling in his eyes.

“Don’t expect to hear that one.” You teased, eyes flickering to his lips in hopes he would kiss you again. Your last jab seemed to motivate him to do so, but this time he didn’t seem as enthusiastic.

“Careful.” He warned. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty, or I wouldn’t be so nice.”

“How thoughtful.” You made sure your sarcasm was apparent. He seemed fired up at your response, but was not comfortable enough with you yet to show it. Or, perhaps he was afraid to scare you away. “Any other rules I should keep in mind?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, happy you asked. “You refer to me as ‘Sir’.” You had to bite your lip to stifle a laugh. The request was silly to you, and he was aware that you thought so. You had little desire to refer to someone you just met as ‘Sir’. Even if the dom/sub dynamic was something you enjoyed, you couldn’t deny that you liked to push buttons, and his seemed like so much fun to mess with.

“I think that’s a title you have to earn, don’t you?” You raised an eyebrow, feeling him tense under your touch. He shifted his hold on your face, grabbing your cheeks between his fingers and raising an eyebrow at you. The look in his eye made you believe that his patience was already beginning to run thin. You fought back an eye roll, but couldn’t ignore the throbbing feeling between your legs that was growing stronger by the second. “Whatever you want, Sir.” You made sure to accentuate the emotion in the word, showcasing your feelings about the situation.

“Lose the attitude,” he ordered, but seemed pleased with the compliance. “If you’re good for me, I’ll be good to you.” Even in his dominating performance, he seemed to be gentle with you. He did not want to push you too far on the first try, mostly because he wanted to ensure you would come back for more. He liked you, and not just because he thought you were gorgeous. He liked the fire that seemed to burn in your heart, and the way you always had a comeback for any of his comments. He was not shy to admit that he was completely infatuated with you, and even if he was not interested in dating, he did think it would be a shame if he could not see you again once the night was through.

“I’ll be so good for you, Sir. I promise.” A smirk was plastered across your lips as you spoke, driving him crazy without even trying too hard. You couldn’t help yourself from messing with him. He was extremely attractive and you were very interested in what he had to offer, but you had never been the type to take orders without a fight. It appeared like he loved order, and you had always loved pushing boundaries.

It was a match made in hell, and both of you were completely blind to it.

“And you think I talk a lot?” He questioned, giving a hard tug on the fabric of your underwear. It tightened against your skin only for a moment before it snapped, giving him the freedom to do as he pleased with you.

“Hey,” you protested, your eyebrows knitting together in annoyance. “Those were expensive.”

“I’ll replace them.” He assured you, sliding his hand to the other side to do the same.

“So you’re offering to be a sugar daddy, now? Didn’t know that was part of the deal.” You huffed, using your hands to prop yourself up off the counter. With your new position, he removed the ripped fabric from you completely.

“Offering to replace what I destroyed doesn’t mean I’m paying you to fuck me.” He said, bunching the skirt of your tight dress and pushing it to your hips. You let yourself back down on the counter, the cool marble taking you by surprise. “I don’t need to pay you for that. We both know you’ll be back on your own accord.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.” You argued, watching as his fingertips dusted over your bare thighs. You wanted to quiver under the touch, but you couldn’t allow him the satisfaction. His eyes flickered to your face, clearly displeased by your constant rebuttals. “Sir.” You added, noticing the muscles in his jaw tense as his teeth clenched together. He continued forward, inching his fingers between your legs. He gave one forceful move of his wrist and spread them for you. A gasp of surprise slipped out as he brought his fingers to your cunt and ran them through the arousal that was pooling.

“And you talk a lot of shit for someone who wants to get fucked.” His voice was low, now completely unconcerned about your bratty attitude. He was done with the conversation, and he was more than ready to get you to stop talking. His fingers gathered the wetness, slowly trailing upward to your clit. He started with slow circles, his touch light as a feather and only serving as a reminder of what you were there for. You leaned back slightly, allowing him easier access to you. “Now, let’s hear something worthwhile come out of your mouth.” He applied a bit more pressure, the feeling already distracting you from your desire to argue. “How does that feel, angel?” He asked, sliding his thumb in place of his fingers and continuing his earlier pace.

“G-good,” you stuttered, amazed at the pleasure he was giving you just from the small movement. You weren’t sure if it was so good because of his talent, or if it had just been too long since you had felt the touch of another like such. At the positive nature of your comment, he found enough generosity to slowly add his fingers to you, pumping them slowly to give you some extra stimulation. “Fuck, baby.” You sighed, letting your head fall forward to rest on his own forehead. He could not chastise you for not using the term he’d asked you to, mostly because the pet name sounded so beautiful coming from your mouth.

In that moment, he was certain he would let you call him whatever you wanted as long as you said it in the same sweet tone.

“This is what you wanted, hmm?” He whispered, moving his thumb in time with the pump of his fingers, keeping the pace as the pressure steadily began rising in your belly. “Is this why you were being so bratty? You just wanted me to touch you?”

“Yes, sir.” You muttered, eyes fluttering closed as he curled his fingers upwards. He was making you feel far too good for you to want to disobey his orders.

“So, that’s the trick.” He chuckled, eyes intently focused on his hand working at your cunt. “Just need to give you some attention and that will shut you up.” He rasped, the sight of you nearly sending him feral. He was desperate for relief himself, but unwilling to show it until he knew you were well taken care of. If he wanted you to come back, he needed to give you something to make you want to come back.

“Please, don’t stop.” You pleaded, feeling a thin layer of sweat form over your face. Your heart was pounding against your chest and your breathing was laboured. The pressure was unbearable, and the threat of an orgasm was imminent. You could not even find it within yourself to hold off, nor taunt him any further. It had been so long since you had felt pleasure at the hands of another, and you had never felt it quite it the same as he was giving you.

“Already?” He teased, but his tone was incredibly soft. He didn’t care that you were already there, and if anything, he took it as a compliment to his work. “Has nobody been taking care of you, angel?” He made it a point to perfect his movements, not wanting to lose the momentum even for a second. “Answer me,” he whispered, but the order was firm.

“N-no,” you shook your head against him, honesty radiating from you. You couldn’t really hide anything in such an intimate display, and you knew even if you tried to lie to him, he would easily see through you. “Nobody.”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, sweet girl.” He assured you. The pet name washed over you like summer rain, enveloping you in warmth and surrounding you with a comfort that would last as long as he continued to touch you. “I’ll take care of her, just like she deserves.” A whimper fell from your lips at the sound of his words, overwhelmed by the vulgarity and weak from the heartfelt promise. He felt you clench around his fingers, knowing that you were ready to come undone. He was more than willing to give you the orgasm, almost as desperate as you were for it. After an entire night of only being shot down, the gratification from taking you for his own was unexplainable. “Cum for me, angel. I know you want to.” He purred, moving his free hand to the back of your head for extra support. The last thing he wanted was for you to lose balance and be distracted from the pleasure.

“Oh, god.” You groaned, eyes screwed shut as your mind dissolved into nothing but thoughts about the man before you. You were praying to him as if he were the god that created the earth for you to walk on, and in that moment, he was. As the orgasm washed over you, the only thing to exist in the entirety of the universe was Jake, and you were perfectly content with the power he possessed.

But, he was not a god, nor anything holy. Jake was the devil reincarnate, and he was not there as a reward for your courageous sacrifices. He was there as punishment for every mistake and every sin you had committed in this lifetime and all the ones before. In that moment, he seemed like he was put in your life as a blessing, a gift for the troubles you had endured, but the reality was harsh and you were completely blind to it. When your mind cleared and the haze of sexual tension lifted, you were able to look deeper into the ties that held you together with him, but even then it did not seem to matter. His work was done, and you had fallen victim to the temptation. Jake would be the solution to every sexual desire that you could even imagine would come, but he would be the root cause for a world of trouble you had been desperately trying to stay away from.

Jake was the type of person you could fall in love with, and despite your hatred for dating and all things that came along with it, you were in long past in love just by the first touch. You were addicted to him, and dependancy was infinitely worse than love according to your standards. The power he possessed in his hands was otherworldly, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine what else he had in store for you. Your agreement for a single night would be the worst decision you had ever made, but like all bad decisions, you would not realize the extent of the issue until it was long past repairable.

You were brought back to reality by Jake removing his hand from you. The loss of contact was nearly excruciating, and you were desperate for him to keep going until the both of you collapsed in a heap of exhaustion. Even then, you were sure you could still find enough energy to wrap yourself around him once more. “How was that, angel?” He hummed, pulling back from you only slightly. You looked up at him, your eyes heavy-lidded and your body still trembling with the ghost of the orgasm.

“It was so good,” you sighed, already reminiscing on the memory. He gave you a smirk, so small that it was barely noticeable, but you picked up on it. You were certain that you would study ever minuscule detail and movement until it drove you to insanity. He was so captivating that he was the only thing you wanted to know about. He raised his fingers to his lips, sliding his middle finger in his mouth while holding a steady eye contact with you. When his finger landed on his tongue, his eyes fluttered closed in bliss, savouring the taste of your orgasm for as long as he could. After a few seconds, he pulled the digit from his lips, leaving a slight echo of a pop ringing through the air.

“Taste even better than I imagined.” He muttered. Your entire body prickled with an unfamiliar feeling, and you thought you might come undone again just at the sight. Your skin was ablaze with arousal, and your chest was burning with need for him. You had little care about what he was going to do next, and you were just happy to be on the receiving end of it. “See, it wasn’t so hard to be good for me, was it?”

“No, sir.” You breathed, watching him in awe. He took in a long breath, letting the word settle deep in his bones with pride.

“Can you keep being a good girl for me?” He asked, his voice barely breaking through the air.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, making sure he knew you were being truthful. He smiled at the sound, crouching down slightly and hooking his legs under your thighs. Gently, he brought you to the edge of the countertop, wasting no time before bringing his mouth to your cunt. It was a fantastic apology for the withdrawal of his hands, and it send you straight back into a cloud of euphoria. Your hands snaked to his hair, pulling at the roots in attempt to get him closer than he already was.

His tongue found your clit with little hesitation, and he was working at you like a man starved. His fingers were branding your thighs with marks bound to last long past the excitement, and you didn’t care a bit about it. The evil laced within the movements of his tongue was incomprehensible, much greater than anything he had bestowed upon you with his fingers. You wanted to believe that the man nestled between your thighs was purely human that had just been blessed with otherworldly charm, but you were beginning to have your doubts about the matter. You feared that he was an entity you had not yet encountered, one with strength and power you could not comprehend.

By the first touch, you were in too deep to pull yourself out, and now, you had done nothing but cement the foundation of the entanglement so strongly that not even an earthquake could shake it. He was so powerful that he made it seem natural, and it was almost terrifying. He could leech your life supply directly from the source without you even noticing, and once he began, it felt too good to stop him. He made it appear that you were the one controlling the situation, yet the control had never even been close enough for your fingertips to graze. He was inhuman, and that much you were sure of. The evil was so abundant inside of him that not even a priest could expel it enough to free him.

You knew this to be true, because as your eyes drifted downwards towards him, you could have sworn you saw the shadow of devil horns on the wall when the city lights broke through the darkness just right.

You did not have the luxury to focus on your revelations, because he had brought his hand back to you and continued at his earlier pace. A guttural moan tore from your chest, the feeling overwhelming and making it unable to focus on anything other than him. You finally understood why he was not interested in dating; he was so good at sex that it would be a waste of talent to only share it with one person. It made you curious as to why he was interested in a casual relationship with you, and why he thought that you were the golden ticket to fulfilling all of his needs. You were not anything fantastic, nor were you offering him anything substantial. You could not understand the potential he saw in you, but if he was willing to give you the promise of his hands and his tongue, you would be a fool to refuse it.

You were certain you could not only live, but thrive off the pleasure he was giving you for the rest of your life. If he was interested in a casual commitment to each other, low effort but with a glorious reward, you were more than happy to participate in the agreement. You were certain enough in yourself to cut him off if it got too intense, and you were committed enough to your own security to know when it was time to end things. In the meantime, harmless fun sounded fantastic, and he could provide just that. Besides, he looked too ethereal with his head between your thighs to worry about any consequences. Despite it only being the first time, he was so effortless with his work that it appeared as if he always belonged there.

“Fuck, Jake.” You hissed, finding it hard to keep holding yourself upright. Your arm was shaking underneath the weight of your body, and you cared so little about falling that you didn’t even bother to stop him so you could reposition. The pressure in your belly was intense, letting you know that you were close to the end anyway, and you didn’t need to take any precaution. If he continued at the same pace, you wouldn’t be able to contain your second orgasm of the night.

He hummed against you, showing his enthusiasm about your enjoyment. He made sure to curl his fingers again, remembering that you had enjoyed it the first time he had done it. A rush of pleasure ran through you and your legs involuntarily tightened against his head. Your body seemed to have a mind of its own, completely disconnected from your brain and doing whatever it could to keep him there. The movement did not deter him, but only encouraged him further. With one last flick of his tongue in just the right place, you were driven over the edge and crying out his name. Your whole body was rigid, the intensity unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. If his intent truly was to give you the best sex of your life, he had went above and beyond to accomplish it, and you weren’t even to the best part, yet.

He slowly pulled back as he noticed you relax against him, instead peppering kisses on the insides of your thighs. As you both attempted to catch your breath, the tension in the air was at an all time high. You were eager for more, and he was eager to get started. When your mind cleared and you were able to form a coherent thought, you looked down at him with adoration sparkling in your eyes. “Blue.” You whispered, your voice raspy and your throat coarse from the noises he had pried from you. He looked up at the sound, unable to hide the smile on his face. His eyes told you that you had just given him the greatest compliment he’d ever received.

“Really?” He said as if he were pondering the truth of the statement. “I’m just getting started.”

“Really.” You sighed, nodding your head. It was a sad sigh, mostly because you hated admitting that he had been right all along. But, you had always been one to believe that you should give credit where credit is due, and this was definitely a perfect example of the philosophy. “I’ll even clean your counters for you, since I was the one who made the mess.” You chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat with a blush.

“Don’t worry about that,” he brushed you off, rising to his feet. “That was the best meal this kitchen has ever seen.” You rolled your eyes at the comment, but couldn’t help the smile that was blossoming on your lips. Even in his boyish humour, there was still an unexplainable charm laced into it. Everything about him was irresistible, and you couldn’t seem to get enough of him. You held on to his arm for support as you got down off the counter, refusing to let go until you were steady on your feet. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands and bringing him into another kiss. The suddenness distracted him from his comment, and he was immediately immersed in you once again. You pulled his bottom lip between your teeth, a gentle tease and a thank you for his service. You could feel him start to smile as you pulled away.

Without any further conversation, you slowly sunk to your knees in front of him. It took him a second to process your change in direction, but he certainly could not find a complaint about it. He was painfully hard, his erection strained against his pants as he waited for you to proceed. You made the process as slow as possible, needing to resume your commitment to your teasing. You knew it was driving him crazy, and if you had to admit, you loved it. You brought your hand to his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from the loops. You discarded it on the floor, moving next to the button and zipper. You unzipped it painfully slow, making sure to hold eye contact with him while you did so. With his help, his pants were also discarded in the floor, leaving him only in his boxers.

Your mouth was watering at the thought of what was beneath the thin material, eager to please him after such a phenomenal performance from him. With a little courage, you took the final step in freeing him from his boxers. You felt another rush of arousal straight to your core at the sight. He was desperate for relief, but he was allowing you to make the first move; as excited as he was, he cared greatly about your comfortability and wanted you to know you had the option to change your mind if needed. You moved forward, parting your lips slightly as you took him into your mouth. He let out a hiss of pleasure at the feeling, the stimulation small but still fantastic. The sound gave you a boost of confidence, knowing that he would enjoy whatever you were offering him.

You relaxed your jaw, focusing on his head just for a moment. You let your tongue flick over the sensitive area a few times, revelling in the sounds of enjoyment coming from him. You thought they were the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard, and you would go to the ends of the earth to continue pleasing him just to hear them again. After a moment, you drew in a long breath before taking him in further. You took him far enough for the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat, then you began to bob your head. His head fell backwards in bliss as his hand reached to gather your hair from your face. You let out a moan against him, the vibration intensifying the feeling for him.

You had never been so willing to submit to a man, let alone a stranger on a one night stand, but you were willing to do it all for him. He was intoxicating, and you wanted to live in the filthy, drunken hookup for the rest of your life. It was exhilarating, and you had never experienced sex that was so enjoyable. Usually, the men talked themselves up so much that they inevitably underperformed. With some, it was easy to overlook the disappointment because they left you with an orgasm or two, but most didn’t even meet that quota. Never in your life had you found someone who was so concerned with your pleasure, and never one who was so willing to give before receiving anything himself. It was practically unheard of in modern dating and hookup culture, and you weren’t willing to let him slip through your fingers.

If he wanted casual with no strings attached, you would oblige to the request without any further hesitation. He had proved himself beyond anything you could have imagined, and your only hope was that you could do the same.

He let out a sigh, holding your hair tightly in his fist. He couldn’t stop himself from guiding your head down on him, the need for more too much to resist. “You look even prettier with my cock in your mouth.” He muttered, looking down at you while you tried to keep up with his guidance. Your eyes flickered upwards, catching his stare through your lashes. He was feral looking, his jaw hard set with a flame dancing in his pupils. He was crazy for you, and he felt no need to hide it. You let out a hum of agreement, the vibration adding a little more energy to the sensation he was already experiencing. “Fuck, angel.” He groaned, adding a little more force to his hand. “Just tap my leg if you need me to stop.”

With that, he began moving your head for you, completely taking the control. He tried his best to keep it tolerable for you, but he was succumbing to the pleasure more with each second that passed. You tried your best to focus on your breathing rather than the feeling of him down your throat, but it was growing difficult with each thrust of his hips. Tears were forming in your eyes, smudging mascara down your cheeks, and you were fighting a gag with every movement. You were too stubborn to give up, but you had to admit that his size was a bit hard to handle. His grip on your hair was tight, and he seemed too enthralled in the moment to notice your struggle.

He pushed your head down on him, his cock sliding down your throat as his head fell back in bliss. Your eyes squeezed shut as your throat constricted around him, the gag no longer able to be prevented. He let out a long slur of curses laced with a moan, enjoying every second of your suffering. You had to admit that you were enjoying it too, and you knew that you would do it a million times over again just to please him. You felt him twitch in your mouth, a sure sign that he was close, but he wasn’t willing to risk ending the fun. He withdrew, finally allowing you a full breath of air. You coughed a few times, clearing your throat and bringing yourself back to reality. He kneeled down to your level, eyes carefully inspecting your face.

He did enjoy the sight of you so disheveled, but he worried that he went a little too far. He brought his thumb to your cheek, wiping away the tear stains as you wiped your chin clean from any spit still lingering. “You want me to fuck you now, baby?”

“Yes, please.” You muttered, nodding your head eagerly. He helped you to your feet, leaning down and capturing you in a kiss that lasted only a few seconds.

“Let’s get this off of you.” He mumbled against your lips, his hands snaking under the bunched up material of your dress. You pulled back from him, lifting your arms and allowing him to slip it over your head. He tossed it to the floor, but his eyes were only focused on your now fully exposed body. He took in a long breath, trying his best to contain the filthy thoughts he was having, but it was showing clearly in his expression alone. You watched him, silent and unmoving while you awaited his next move. Slowly, he brought his hands back to you, gentle in his touch as if he thought you were fragile. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen some so beautiful before and he wanted to take his time to fully admire you.

His hands dropped to your hips as he guided you towards him and your hands reached out for him, already yearning to feel him on your skin again. He kissed you again, more intense than the one before and this time, he didn’t seem keen on breaking it. In a swift motion, he picked you up once more. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Instead of placing you on the counter again, he turned around and broke the kiss just for a moment to see what his next move would be. His eyes landed on the kitchen table, his train of thought apparent without him even speaking a word. He took two steps forward, holding you tightly with one hand to make sure he wouldn’t drop you. He inspected the surface that was littered with papers and journals full of half-written songs.

With little care, he took his free hand and swiped away all of the items with a single movement. You turned your head, looking to watch all of papers float to the floor with little grace. You couldn’t deny that his actions only turned you on more; the desperation laced within his solution was hot, much like everything else he had done that night. He bent down, placing you on the table with caution. He let his hands fall back to your hips, pulling you to the edge of the table so he could have easy access to you. His hand drifted to your lower back as he brought his lips to your neck, finding the most sensitive spots straight away. You barely knew him, and you barely knew anything about him, but he seemed to know your body better than anyone ever had before. It was like he had a greater understanding of you than even yourself.

A breathy moan sounded from you as he sucked light marks into the skin just below your ear. One of his hands came to your chest, happy that your lack of clothing was giving him the opportunity to know all of you. He let his thumb drift over your nipple, sending a surge of electricity straight through you. Everything he was doing felt amazing, but you were done with the foreplay, even if it was fantastic. The tension was so strong that you thought you might break underneath the weight of it.

“Please fuck me, Jake.” You begged, delirious from all of the stimulation that you were feeling. “I need you.” His eyes rolled back in his head at the sound, addicted to the feeling of being needed by you. It was better than any drug and stronger than any other addiction. He would do whatever he could to make sure you always wanted him that way.

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” He threw out the rhetoric, not expecting an answer from you. Instead he hiked your leg up and around him, making sure you took the hint to hold it there. “Didn’t realize you were such a little whore.” The word knocked the air from your lungs, replacing it with a venomous desire. Your chest was burning from how badly you needed him, and you knew that you would do anything just to be insulted by him, because even hurtful words sounded pleasant coming from his mouth. It was a luxury to be a whore for him, and you were an idiot for trying so hard to turn him down.

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, both of you aching for relief, knowing that the sex was bound to be beyond anything you had been imagining all night. “You want me, angel?” He asked, his voice husky and filled with lust. You caught sight of his eyes, which were now completely unfamiliar to you. The warm brown that was so inviting was not black with desire, and a different man was standing before you.

If you had to admit, you liked this one much better.

“Please, sir. Need you inside of me.” You whispered, sweetly and softly to coax him into giving you what you wanted. The gentle tone seemed to drive him over the edge, and without any further consideration, he pushed himself inside you. You both let out a mutual sigh of satisfaction at the feeling, but you were both already wanting more. He could not bother with a slow start, knowing that neither of you wanted to take things easy. His rocked his hips while keeping a firm hold on your hips, making sure nothing could disturb the long awaited pleasures.

You wrapped an arm around his neck, already finding yourself bargaining with an orgasm. If he was an evil entity, his trade was sex, and you knew he could use it for punishment and reward. Something about him was otherworldly, and you started to fear that your agreement with him would ultimately be your demise. He made you feel too good to want to let go of him, but the idea of the relationship getting messy was paralyzingly terrifying. At the same time, rationality was only second to the way he made you feel, and heartbreak was a risk you were willing to take to indulge in his sin.

“Fuck, Jake.” You groaned, tangling your fingers in the roots of his hair.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He did not need to ask the question; he already knew the answer, and the affirmation was solely to further his growing ego.

“Feels so fucking good.” You whimpered, struggling to keep your leg wrapped around him while he continued on his brutal pace. He was hitting the perfect angle, a pleasurable pain shooting through you with every re-entry. He used his arm to guide your upper half down towards the table, and you used a free hand to hold yourself up.

“Being so good for me, angel.” His fingers reached between your legs while his gaze stayed focused on your face, enthralled in the expressions you were making. Your eyes squeezed shut in bliss as he found your clit again, rubbing circles as he continued to fuck you. You thought it almost comical that he called you angel, because you were so convinced that he was the devil. The two did not seem to coincide with each other, yet you remained tangled up in each other in what felt like perfect harmony.

The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, much more intense than you expected, and it was a feeling you wished to have forever. You would be perfectly content if you lived out your next sixty years in the same position, with his hands on you and his sweet words whispered in your ear. His fingers focused on your already sensitive clit was driving you near insanity. You weren’t sure if he was naturally good at what he did, or if he was trying extra hard to ensure you would come back to him. Either way, you were certain that when the morning came and you sobered up, you would still want him just the same. Days would pass, and you would be knocking on his door begging for a shred of what he gave you the first night you spent together. It was so good that you didn’t even care if he played the same game with every girl he picked up at the bar, because even if it was a reused version of his character, it was working. Every movement, every slight touch and sweet word that came from his mouth seemed special, like it was perfectly crafted just for your taste. You wanted to believe that even if he was a player and you were a recluse that denounced love, the moments shared between you was of importance.

“Do you want to cum for me, baby?” His words came out in a slight slur, telling you that he was having a hard time holding back his own orgasm. The night was so full of excitement that you were both surprised he held on for as long as he did. He was ready to fuck you as soon as he laid his eyes on you in the bar, and everything that came after was pure torture. He was struggling with not succumbing to the temptation, mostly because he was determined to give you even more than he already had. Disappointment was not a factor he was willing to accept.

“Yes, please.” You pleaded, noticing the movements of his fingers become more precise. His free hand rose to your neck, his fingers gently clasping around it to give you a chance to speak up against the action. You were so strung out from the pleasure that you were sure he could do whatever he wanted to you and you would never be able to find a complaint about it. When he was certain you were comfortable with his actions, his fingers tightened ever so slightly, beginning to restrict the blood flow to your head.

You took in a long breath, the burning in the pit of your stomach growing stronger by the second. You let your eyes close to focus on the pleasure, feeling your heartbeat pound in your ears. “Come on, angel.” His gentle encouragement was heavenly paired with the movement of his fingers and his hips. You were barely hanging on, and as his hand tightened around your neck again, all of the nerves in your body ignited with a fire that was impossible to contain.

“Jake,” you warned, but the words were weak and the rasp in your voice made it near impossible to hear. He was listening intently though, and he heard it as clear as day. It was nothing but motivation for him, driving him to keep going. As much as he was enjoying himself, he was most concerned with making you feel good. His pleasure came second to yours, and it was not up for debate.

Your head began to spin and your legs started to shake. The earth felt like it was turned upside down and it was spinning out of control. The orgasm tore through you in a violent fashion, but you couldn’t seem to find the energy to voice it to him. He slowly released his hold on your neck and instead moved his hand to the back of your head to hold you upright. You took in a long breath, unsure if you would ever be able to fill your lungs with the air you so desperately needed. “That’s it,” he muttered, slowing his hips slightly to allow you to recover “that’s my girl.” The words send another rush of pleasure through you, extending the climax even further.

You were exhausted, but he was far from done. As you regained some control over your body and mind, he ceased the movement of his fingers. “That was amazing.” You sighed, clearing your throat from the rasp that was still lingering.

“Yeah?” He crooned, a cocky smile on his lips. Once he was sure you were well and fully recovered, he withdrew and used his arm to slide you off of the table. When your feet hit the floor, he wasted no time turning you around and guiding your upper half down towards the table. “You think you can keep being good for me?” He asked, the tip of his cock already eagerly resting against your cunt. You let out a mutter of agreement, too tired to speak the words to him. “Just a little bit longer, sweet girl.” He promised, reaching up and twisting your hair into his fist.

With that, he pushed himself inside of you, the feeling amplified even further due to the ghost of your last orgasm. You were extremely sensitive, almost so much so that you questioned if you could keep going. Once he started a steady rhythm and you were pulled back into pleasure, you knew you could. You would do anything to give back the feeling that he was giving you. “Oh, god.” You groaned, the angle in which he was moving already driving you crazy. His hand tightened on your hair, pushing your head further down on the table. Your cheek was pressed against it, but he wasn’t holding you too harshly in fear of hurting you. The legs of the table were rocking with his movement, and as he sped, you feared that it might break under the pressure.

“You take it so good, angel.” He muttered, but he was no longer talking to you; he was so lost in the sex that he had no filter for his thoughts. Anything and everything that came to mind was ultimately spoken, mostly because he could not find the will to hold it back. “Such a good little whore.” You let out a shaky breath, the words settling deep in your stomach, blossoming into the beginning of another orgasm. His free hand raised and his palm came down on your ass with a loud smack. It sent a jolt of pain through you, making you jump under the touch. “Can you give me one more?” He asked, his hips stuttering as he tried his best to keep his composure.

“I don’t know,” you were honest with him, knowing that you would love to comply with every one of his wishes, but also knowing that even the thought of another orgasm was exhausting. Your body was tired, and so was your mind. He was pushing you as far as you could go, but you were more than happy to let him do it.

“I know you can, sweetheart. Just one more.” He said, but it was a plea hidden inside a powerful tone. He needed you to come again, just so he could ensure he gave you as much as he possibly could.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, your body doing all of the decision making for you. The knot in your stomach was tight, and your legs were locked in position to brace yourself for the intensity of the pleasure. The more he spoke to you, the more certain you felt about being unable to withstand another climax. Then again, you were sure he could convince you of anything if he was using the same sultry tone of voice.

“That’s it, baby.” He reinforced the idea, hoping you would submit to the feeling and stop worrying.

“I can’t,” you shook your head against his grip, knowing that you were long past your limit, even if your body was trying to convince you otherwise. The feeling of him inside you was so good that it was nearly painful, and your entire body was ablaze with overstimulation. He let his hand come down on your ass again, the sound echoing through the room and making home in the walls, permanently cementing the memory there. Neither of you would ever be able to look at the room the same way after such a filthy display was made in it.

“You can,” he pressed, not liking the disobedient attitude. He continued on with the steady movement of his hips, and before you knew it, you descended into a whole new type of pleasure below him. Your entire body seemed to give out from underneath you. Your legs were vibrating and tears were forming in your eyes as a slur of moans and curses fell from your lips. He slipped his arm underneath your hips, holding you up so there was no fear of you falling. Your walls were clenched around him, and you thought that the intensity alone would kill you. “Fuck, y/n.” He hissed, absolutely smitten by the state of you.

His own orgasm came harshly, sending him into a similar state of euphoria. His movements stuttered, and he was holding you up while trying not to topple over himself. Eventually, once you both seemed to relax, he slowed his hips to a near stop. He looked down at the sight, his jaw clenched as he fucked his release back into you. He was almost disappointed that the fun had come to an end, but he knew that you were much too tired to continue on. Carefully, he withdrew from you while continuing to hold you steady. “You okay, sweetheart?” The concern in his voice was astounding.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your eyes refusing to open. You were so tired that you could have fallen asleep standing there, and your body was aching from the nights excitement.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He spoke softly, so different from the way he was speaking to you only moments before. He removed his hand from your hair and helped you off the table. When you were steady on your feet, he let his hand fall on your lower back in a gentle embrace, full of concern and care. He guided you to the bathroom where you both cleaned yourself and erased any evidence from the sinful experience you had engaged in. When you were finished, you returned to the kitchen and made a move to grab your dress. “What are you doing?” He chuckled, watching you with curiosity.

“Getting my clothes so I can go home.” You answered, but the sleepiness was making it hard to formulate the words.

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head, walking to meet you. He grabbed the dress from your hand and tossed it back on the floor before nudging you in the direction of his bedroom. “There’s no way I’m letting you get in a cab like that. I can take you home tomorrow.”

“I’m okay,” you tried to argue, but you were melting into the warm touch of his hands.

“You’re staying here, end of discussion.” He said, making sure you knew that he would not allow you to leave. “I’m not putting you in a taxi with a stranger while you’re this drunk and tired. Who knows what could happen.” He mumbled, the second part was more to himself than anything else. It almost seemed as if he was ashamed of caring so deeply.

“You’re a stranger, Jake.” You reminded him, but your eyes landed on the bed and you immediately felt a change of heart. It was screaming with coziness, the blankets and pillows more inviting than anything you’d ever seen before.

“Don’t think you can call me a stranger anymore, sweetheart.” He laughed, opening his dresser to grab you a t-shirt to sleep in. He tossed it on the bed so you could grab it, which you did while uttering a small thank you. You slipped it over your head, the smell of his cologne was overwhelming and oddly comforting. You pulled back the comforter and slid into the bed, your eyes immediately closing in bliss. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.” He said, the sound causing you to crack an eye open in surprise.

“What?” You asked, baffled at his statement. “No, you can… I mean, if you want to… I don’t think it’s fair if I get the bed and you get the couch.” Your words came out in a jumbled mess, and your thoughts were just the same. “I can stay on the couch, or we can both… yeah.” You felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment. You weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk or if it was because he was hot, but you were flustered and apparently, no good at hiding it.

“You’re sure you’re with me being in bed, too?” He didn’t speak a word about your nervous rambling. He didn’t want to embarrass you further, and in truth, he didn’t really care. He was only concerned about your comfort.

“Yeah.” You assured him. “Like you said, not really strangers anymore.” You laughed.

“That’s true.” He nodded, slipping on a pair of boxers and climbing under the covers, too. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him.

“Pushing it.” You said, but humour was clear in your tone.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” He laughed as you relaxed against him.

And sleep you did, carelessly and peacefully, unknowing and uncaring about the world of trouble you had created in just one small lapse of judgement. The morning would come and your senses would return, but it was far too late to stop the situation from descending into the chaos you were so desperate to avoid. His web was spun, and you were caught, even if neither of you were aware of the mistakes you had made that inevitably landed you there. The first deadly sin was committed, soon to be followed by six more, and not even a confession nor repenting could save you from your own wrongdoings.

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik

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joshym · 2 months

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Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 4

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 32.3k+ (dear lord)

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering. MDNI 18+ ONLY struggles with body dysmorphia/eating (including food restriction & calorie counting), strong feelings of inadequacy, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, a parent in the hospital, mentions of sexually explicit scene being shot on film, anxiety/stress/depression, jealousy

SMUT-18+ ONLY: fingering & oral (f receiving), nipple stimulation, heavy petting (m receiving), possessiveness, a lot of hickeys(lol), a little praise (please let me know if i’ve missed anything)

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me. this story is personal to me for so many reasons, & parts of it have been a little hard to write. but, they’ve begged to be written. i hope you all love it. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor & my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist, Series Playlist

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Christmas Eve: Cherry Tree, OK

The ground was buried under mounds of snow. A fluffy, warm blanket of the softest white, yet it froze your little fingers when you buried your hands into its inviting, bright allure.

You were bundled so tightly in your winter ensemble that you could hardly move. Your arms were stiff as boards, impossible to lay at your sides. You begged your mom to not make you wear it outside, but she and your dad wouldn’t budge.

“You’ll get sick.” They warned you. But you didn’t heed them.

As soon as you were outside and safely out of their sight, you shed your pink puffer and matching mittens, throwing them in a deep bank covering the once vibrant flower beds on the side of your house and freeing yourself of their restrictions.

You’d spent what felt like hours outside in the below freezing temperatures. Intricately rounding out perfect snowballs, building the tallest snowman your six year old body could manage, creating the most heavenly snow angels.

You hadn’t even noticed the sudden pain and tightness that had developed in your small chest, or the dry cough that accompanied it. You were too busy warding off evil snow monsters from your fort made of icey wonder.

Until you heard your first, middle and last name erupting from the opened back door.

Your mom and dad were there, their faces as white as the snow your body plummeted towards when your small lungs became too tired to allow for another breath of air.

You spent Christmas in the hospital that year. The whole week, actually. A collapsed lung due to pneumonia, you were told. It was the most painful thing you had yet to experience in your young life.

But to this very day, you consider it the best Christmas you’ve ever celebrated.

Nurses and doctors showered you with all the toys your heart could ever long for. You opened gifts from your bed and enjoyed the most wonderfully terrible Christmas dinner the hospital cafeteria could offer.

You ate more ice cream than what was truly necessary. But no one denied your incessant requests for the frozen treat.

You watched Oliver and Company countless times that week, a favorite of yours and your dads. He hated Disney movies, but he loved this one, only because of Billy Joel’s character and the classic song he featured in the film.

He loved Billy Joel. Loved him enough to sit through hours upon hours of the animated film with you.

Neither him or your mom left your side that whole week. They didn’t even go home to sleep. They just stayed with you.

There were no fights between your mom and dad that week. Not even one. It was the closest your little family had ever been, and would ever be again. The love you felt from your parents that week has yet to find a comparison.

Crazy as it sounds, you miss that week. You began missing it as soon as you were cleared to go home.

Their bickering resumed almost as soon as they put you in your special, tiny wheelchair to take you to the car. Whatever magic that hospital held that forced your family to love each other in a way that was brand new to you, was lost altogether once you were wheeled out of the automatic glass doors.

You knew, once they situated you in the back of your dads double cab, that you’d never see them love each other that way ever again.

As the Winter thawed to a bright Spring that year, when the snow melted and ran away to the Deer in Water creek that your home stood proudly beside, so did your hopes of ever seeing your parents love you and each other the same as they had that Christmas.

That was a time in your life when you viewed your mom and dad in the same light. A time when you didn’t hate your dad, a time when he made you believe a man could love you.

When it wasn’t just your dad that caused problems, and it wasn’t just your mom that showed you love. They both did those things.

It’s strange to think back on it all now, to think about how he’s the one that left, and she’s the one dying. (Or already dead.)

You can’t bring yourself to understand why, but that Christmas you spent in the hospital all those years ago is all that's playing in your mind as Jake is speeding to the hospital.

He’s asked you a few times how you’re holding up, but you can’t begin to try and answer him.

You’re unable to communicate more than a quiet nod of your head as you're staring through the tinted passengers window.

There aren’t any tears. No lump in your throat.

You want to cry, but you can’t.

Your mind pleads with you to acknowledge the emotions swirling about, desperate to manifest outwardly. But despite the inner turmoil, your body refuses to show it.

You just can’t.

Everything feels numb.

You’re not even sure if you’re breathing properly.

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You hadn’t even realized how tightly you’d been clutching the necklace your dad gifted you all those years ago. It’s somehow serving as a comfort for you as you’re being driven to the hospital, even after everything he’s put you through. You find yourself running your thumb over the engraved initial, just as you always had before he left.

As much as you’ve grown to hate him over the last year, you can’t help but wish he were here. Not being able to rely on anyone right now is…it’s fucking terrible.

Well, aside from Jake.

He’s the last person you’d expect to be leaning on.

But it was purely an accident. Him driving you to the hospital is just a happenstance. He wouldn’t have if your stupid car hadn’t broken down (thanks, dad) and if it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have had to get a ride from Jake in the first place.

But, you’re grateful to him right now. Grateful that he stuck around at your apartment long enough to know he needed to take you to her.

If it weren’t for him, you’d still be stuck there desperately searching for someone to take you.

Finally, the brakes come to a screeching halt at the emergency room entrance. You absently thank him as you practically jump out of the car.

You don’t look back, but you hear the thrumming motor of his range rover become more distant as he drives away.

You can’t bring yourself to care at this point as you’re sprinting to the front desk in search of where they’ve taken your mom.

The young, redheaded man behind the counter with bright green eyes shielded by thick eyeglass frames looks rather shocked at your frenzied state. He’s watching you with his mouth agape, hands frozen on the keyboard of his desktop as he prepares for your inevitable arrival.

“I–I need to f– find my mom. She was just broug–” You take a second to catch your breath, still clutching your necklace for some sort of grounding. “...she was brought here by ambulance and I—” He stops you with a hand held high, asking you to slow down because he can’t comprehend your rushed words.

You can hardly even understand yourself, your voice breathy and stuttering as you’re gasping for air. But there’s no time to wait to catch it in your heaving lungs.

“I need my mom and you need to tell me where the hell they’ve taken her. Her name is–”

“Miss,” he interupts, standing up as if to intimidate you with his much taller stature in comparison to yours. “If you can’t calm down I’ll have to ask you to leave.” His voice (that he’s clearly manipulated to sound much more threatening) echoes throughout the entire lobby as he’s looking at you as if you’re the crazy one.

This man has started copping an attitude with you that you’re in no place to put up with. You’ve backed down to people you’re entire fucking life, but right now isn’t the goddamn time.

You’ve decided to challenge him. If he wants to be loud, you can be loud right back.

Your fist pounds the counter with a force that causes everyone in the lobby of the emergency room to gasp and silence their voices. The metal container holding pens is jolted over the edge, the clipboard holding the blank paperwork for patients to fill out tumbles to the floor from the sheer amount of power behind your hand.

There’s a stinging pain running rapidly up your arm, all the way to your shoulder, ringing through your teeth and vibrating in your skull.

You don’t even so much as wince from the pain.

A potential broken hand is the very least of your troubles right now.

“She may be dying,” you scream, your first still held firm atop the white marble. “And if you don’t tell me where the fuck she is, you may have ruined the last time I’ll ever see her.”

The tears you’ve held in thus far begin flooding your face, falling like a heavy rain shower on the granite where your sore hand lies.

Before the receptionist can start the process of having you escorted out, a tall woman dressed in a light blue set of scrubs stops him before he can make a single move.

“Tell me her name, sweetie.” Her voice is quiet and her demeanor is calm, her wavy brown locks tied in a sleek ponytail at the bottom of her neck reminds you so much of the way your mom used to wear her hair before she got sick.

You tell her your moms name through a shaky voice, attempting to make yourself sound more composed so you don’t get yourself kicked out of here.

She gently moves the receptionist aside (Eric, according to the name badge clipped to the pocket of his shirt) and begins clicking the mouse around, scrunching her eyebrows in focus.

“Here she is,” she confirms, the printer behind her humming with the physical version of what she can see on the screen. “She doesn’t have a room just yet, hun.”

You feel defeated and useless. You’re her primary caregiver, and you can’t do your job from behind this stiff counter— not knowing where she is, how she is, what happened. So many unknowns, so much that’s completely out of your control.

You suddenly feel the intense pain radiating from your fist and you instinctively pull it close to you, clutching it tightly against your chest in hopes that pressure will alleviate just how bad it hurts.

“I’ll let you know when she gets a room. Until then, you’re welcome to wait in the lobby.” The tall nurse tells you.

You nod your head in agreement, knowing there’s nothing you can say or do to make them move quicker. Still clutching your fist, you slowly walk away towards the stained lobby chairs and plant yourself in the one that’s closest to the counter.

You pull your phone out of your jacket pocket in search of something to distract you, but you're mortified to be met with the dead battery symbol upon trying to unlock it.

Great. Nothing to divert you from your thoughts (or the searing pain) for god knows how long. You feel the tears start to well in your sleepy eyes again, and you just decide to let them fucking fall. There’s no sense in trying to keep them in, you need to feel right now so you don’t explode again with your pent up aggression.

Crying feels like the safest thing to do right now, and the best way to relieve some of the mental (and physical) pain.

You let your chin fall down towards your chest, watching as the tears land on your sheer tights. You can’t help but giggle a little at how much thought you put into this outfit, only for the night to end like this. You had no way of knowing. No signs that she was doing so poorly on the night you decided to fucking leave her.

But before you have the chance to become too deep in your pity party, you hear the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet walking in your direction. You don’t bother looking up; you figure if you ignore whoever it is, they’ll also ignore you, which is exactly what you want right now.

But ignoring them isn’t quite doing the trick. You see a pair of black sweats out of your peripheral standing near you, and as you lift your eyes a little more, you see a hand offering you a tissue.

When you shift your watering eyes up a bit more, you realize it’s Jake.

“Wha-what are you still doing here?” You ask, the crying making your voice meak and raspy. You clear your throat as you thank him and accept his small (but rather meaningful) token. A sweet gesture that you can’t ignore.

“I just wanted to make sure you found her okay,” he says while settling down in the seat on your left. “And I couldn’t leave knowing you don’t have a way home tonight. This hospital won’t let people stay overnight anymore since the pandemic. Didn’t want to leave you stranded.”

You hadn’t even thought of any of that. Aside from getting to your mom, you had no plan of action. Anything to come after that just hadn’t crossed your mind yet. You're glad someone thought of all those things, because your mind clearly isn’t capable of considering much at the moment.

“Well, thank you. But I can just call Nat so you don’t have to stay with me.” Your voice sounds a little colder than you’d like it to. But with the way your emotions are surfacing, it can’t be helped right now.

“Your phone’s dead,” he challenges, pointing to the quiet device sitting in your lap . “So, I’m staying.”

You snap your head towards him, wide eyes and scrunched brows in question. “How do you know that?”

“Been trying to call you for the last twenty minutes,” he explains, taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through his call log to prove it to you. “It was going straight to voicemail. I knew there was a chance you could’ve been ignoring me, but I had a feeling your battery had just died.”

You can’t deny the grin that’s threatening to consume your tired features. You’re flattered, to say the least. While you didn’t fully expect him to stay to be sure you were okay, you’re not entirely surprised. (It crossed your mind briefly that he could just let you use his phone to call Nat, be he hasn’t offered. And you’re not going to ask. You kind of like that he’s here.)

“She doesn’t have a room yet. They told me they’d let me know when she does.” You adjust yourself in the stiff, plastic chair to face him while he nods his head.

His eyes are heavier than usual. His drooping lids tell you he’s just as tired. Though he’s probably had a much happier evening than you have had.

Before you let your mind wander too deeply into the fact that he most likely slept with Stacy tonight, you search for anything to talk about with him.

“So, that spookhouse tonight was–” you begin, but he interrupts your thought before you can continue.

“Shitty.” He states, putting his phone back in the pocket of his hoodie and letting both hands rest inside the fabric. “Shitty and not scary in the least.”

“Yeah.” You huff through a chuckle, grateful for the tiny smile it forced out of you. “Stacy was pretty scared, though.”

The look Jake gives you is one you can’t quite place. He looks…uncomfortable?

You half expected him to giggle along with you, but he didn’t. Not even close. His eyes shift away from you, gazing across the waiting room.

Fuck. Why did you have to bring her up?

You pull your eyes away from him as you awkwardly set your sights back on your lap. You’re not sure how, but it’s clear you’ve struck some kind of nerve with him.

It’s probably for the best that you keep your mouth shut. And that’s exactly what you do for the next several minutes.

Without as much as a single word uttered between the two of you, you’re suddenly longing for the moments prior to his arrival in the lobby. The ones you spent pathetically crying in defeat and helplessness. Alone.

But just as it seems that all hope of having a normal conversation with him is lost, he breaks the silence.

“Is that what they’re called, where you’re from?”

As you lift your head, you’re met with his drowsy eyes once again set on you, his right eyebrow cocked slightly as he awaits your response.

“Is what called…?” you absently ask. Your mind became so filled with the painful lull in conversation that you’d all but forgotten what you were talking about before you mentioned her name.

“The haunted house,” he says. “You called it a spook house. I was just wondering if that’s because you’re not from here.”

It’s funny, because you hadn’t even noticed that you called it that. Didn’t even think twice about it.

The memory of Sam pointing out the very same thing pops in your mind. You’re then reminded of how you left him tonight. The guilt is weighing horribly on you, but, sadly, it’s a welcome distraction against the worry (and far greater guilt) you’re feeling for your mom.

“Oh, yeah.” You fix your posture a bit, facing him once again as he clearly wants to keep some sort of conversation going. “That’s what we call them back home. It’s so funny how we have different names for things just based on what part of the country we’re from.”

“It’s pretty interesting,” he mutters, a tiny grin peaking through his sleepy exterior.

You just hum in response, not really sure what to say next. The silence was awkward, but this sad attempt at a casual exchange is almost worse.

You look over to the counter to see if the nurse who helped calm you down is standing there, but all you’re met with is Eric’s creeping eyes on you from behind the marble that may have broken your hand.

Your hand suddenly begins to ache once more at the thought, and you instinctively bring it up to your chest again to dull the pain.

“Is your hand okay?” Jake asks, taking note of your wincing expression after moving your sore extremity.

You’re not sure you want to tell him about your little meltdown from earlier, so you come up with a quick excuse that sounds slightly better than the full truth.

“I knocked it against the counter when I got here, just by accident.” It’s not a complete lie. The accident addition is a bit of a stretch, but it kind of was an accident that your fist met the granite in a fit of rage. (However justified it may be, it’s still a tad embarrassing.)

He leans closer to you, attempting to look at your hand that you’re still holding against your chest. With a tender touch, he attempts to pry it away from you. You’re so stunned by this that out of instinct, you hold it even tighter.

“Let me see,” he softly demands.

After some hesitation on your part, (why does he care so much?) you pull it away from your chest, holding it out in front of you and Jake to get a clearer look.

The outer blade of your palm is swollen and already beginning to bruise. It hurts like hell. (And you’re wondering where on earth that physical strength came from.)

Jake runs his index finger so gently over the inflammation. Amidst everything happening, your body can’t deny the fire that’s blooming under your skin from his feather light touch.

Your tired eyes flit up to his face, his features wearing stark concern. When his eyes meet yours, you can’t look away. And he doesn’t, either, his finger still tracing a light pattern around the impact point on your fist.

…and then he stops. He looks away and jumps up out of his seat without as much as a single word.

He rounds the corner of the hallway and is out of your sight within seconds. Gone. Leaving you sitting here alone and feeling like you’ve suddenly done something wrong.

Before you have the chance to worry about that for much longer, you notice the tall nurse out of your peripheral walking in your direction.

Your mom.

You stand up to meet the nurse halfway, ready to finally be taken back to see your mom.

“Hold on,” she says, stopping you before you take a step. “You can’t go back right now, hun.”

Why won’t they let you go back? What don’t they want you to see?

Is it because she’s dead?

The nurse grabs your arm to keep you stable, your legs almost giving out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes down through your chest. The dizzying feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.

Your legs threaten to give out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes down through your chest. The dizzy feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.

Your body begins swaying back and forth, threatening to collapse from shock, exhaustion…

She grabs your arm to help stabilize you.

“Hey, hey.” She puts her other hand on your shoulder to hold you still. “Everything’s okay. Just sit down for me, sweetheart.”

She leads you back down to the chair, helping you lower yourself to sit back down.

“I need you to know that she’s fine, sweetie. She’s asleep, but she’s stable.”

The tension leaves your body instantly, like a two ton weight has been lifted off your tight chest.

She’s alive.

“Can I go back? Can I see her?” You’re nearly begging.

“Not right now, honey. I tried to bend the visiting hour rules for you, but the big wigs won’t budge. I just wanted you to know that she’s okay, but she’ll need to stay overnight for some extra testing.”

“Everything okay?” Jake sits back down next to you, taking your hand and gently placing ice wrapped in a paper towel on your swollen fist. The cold nearly shocks your system, but it feels so good against the pain.

That’s where he went. He cared enough to get you ice for your ridiculously obtained injury.

You turn your head to face him, his sweet eyes locked with yours while he holds the ice steady on your hand.

This isn’t the Jake you’ve grown accustomed to over the months of knowing him. But this is the Jake you’ve wanted.

“She’s okay,” you say, looking down the makeshift pack of ice he brought you. “She’ll just have to stay overnight.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he responds, dabbing the frozen compress delicately across the bruise.

“We’re still not certain what happened to her. She fainted; that’s all we know for sure. We’ll run some tests to get to the root of it.” The nurse draws your attention from Jake back to your mom. You distractedly nod, your mind still consumed with Jake holding your hand the way he is. “You’re welcome to come back first thing in the morning, okay? We’ll take good care of her tonight.”

A small breath of relief washes over you. At least she’s alive. And she’s stable. But fuck…you just wish you could be back there with her. The immense guilt of not being there when it happened is eating away at you. You want to apologize to her, tell her you’ll never fucking leave her again. But, that’ll have to wait until tomorrow. You’ll just be stuck sitting in your guilt until then.

The nurse begins wishing you a good night, but before she leaves, she glances at your hand that Jake is still holding in his grip.

“Is your hand okay, sweetie? Do you need someone to take a look at it?” She asks you, concerned.

“I think I’m okay,” you tell her, looking to Jake who probably has a better idea about your condition than you do. It’s the least of your worries at the moment, you just don’t really care about it in comparison to everything else. This feels insignificant, you feel insignificant. It just doesn’t matter.

Jake nods, looking at you and then averting his gaze to the nurse. “A little swollen and beginning to bruise, but it’s not broken.” He lifts the ice to inspect it a little further, running his finger over the swelling. “It’s already gone down some. I suppose just keeping ice on it will do the trick.”

You give him a look that says a silent ‘thank you’ for taking care of this for you. If he wasn’t here, you wouldn’t think twice about it.

The nurse smiles in response, then looks to you again. “I’d say you’re in good hands, then. Better not let that one get away.”

She once again bids you a good night, reminding you that you can come back first thing in the morning.

Neither one of you seems to react to what she just said. Not aloud, at least. You both just ignore it as you walk through the automatic doors.

“I’ll go get the car,” Jake tells you, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his hoodie. “Had to park kind of far away. Be right back.”

As you watch him walk away, you can’t stop replaying what the nurse said over and over in your mind.

“Better not let that one get away.”

If only she knew.

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The ice is melting all over you and Jake’s floorboard. You’re desperately trying to catch every drop in your lap, but it’s proving difficult. You were freezing when you first got into the car, so Jake cranked the heat all the way up for you, but it’s causing you to make a huge mess.

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you utter, fighting back a few tears brimming your eyes. It’s not the dripping water that’s threatening to make you cry, it’s the fact that you feel like such a burden. And here you are, being even more of one by dripping water all over his nice car.

“What are you sorry for?” He asks, peering over to you. You sniff the tears away, not wanting him to see you crying over something so fucking ridiculous.

“The ice,” you answer through a cracking voice. “It’s melting all over.”

His brows crinkle, looking over at you to assess the situation. His eyes lock on your soaking wet lap for a spell, taking a deep breath before his eyes are back on the road.

“It’s just water, y/n. I’m not worried about it.” He takes the final left turn onto your street that’s now much more quiet than it was the last time he turned here. He pulls into the parking lot, parking in what would normally be your spot if your car wasn’t sitting worthlessly at his place.

He keeps the car on drive, just letting his foot rest on the brake as he unlocks the door for you.

“Just keep ice on it intermittently throughout the night,” he reminds you. “The swelling should be mostly gone by the morning.”

Staring at the darkened apartment building, you slowly nod your head as you’re suddenly hesitant to leave his car for some reason. Your seatbelt is still buckled, your body feeling almost too numb to even manage that.

The thought of going into the empty apartment isn’t by any means a pleasant one. You hadn’t even thought of the fact that you’ll be all alone tonight. No one to take care of besides yourself. (And that’s not something you're well versed in.)

You’ve gotten so used taking care of her since it’s just been the two of you. Being in the apartment without her just feels…wrong. On every level. And being alone in your guilt feels even worse.

At this moment, you’re not sure you can do it. But you haven’t a choice.

“Y/n?” Jake’s calm voice pulls you back to reality, to the fact that you’re still sitting in his car, quietly contemplating. He’s probably ready to get you out of here so he can go home. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lie, not wanting to delve into the turning wheels of your brain.

Then, he puts the car in park, leaning back in his seat as he looks at you with inquisitive eyes. “Are you sure?” He questions. “Because you’ve hardly said a word since we left the hospital, and you’re not exactly in any hurry to get inside.”

Embarrassed, you force yourself to remove your seatbelt. “I’m fine, just a little tired is all. Thank you for taking me tonight, I really appreciate it.” You begin opening the door to let him leave, gathering the mental strength to prepare yourself to walk into an eerie, empty apartment.

“You know, it’s pretty late,” he says as you're one foot out of the door. “And it’s a long drive back to my place. I could stay here, sleep on the couch. That way you’d have someone to take you tomorrow morning.”

It’s almost like he could hear the thoughts in your head. He knows, somehow, that you can’t handle being alone tonight. Like there’s something within him that understands.

“Jake I–I can’t ask you to—”

But before you can finish, he shuts off the ignition.

“You’re not asking if I’m offering,” he protests. And he’s right. You didn’t ask, but you still feel bad. Because you would love to have him stay. “It’s actually easier for me if I do. Saves on gas.”

Instantly, the thought of having his company makes you feel worlds better. Even if he’ll just be on the couch. Just knowing he’s there will make things a little more bearable for you.

“Are you sure?” You ask, timidly.

“If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I can just—” he starts.

“No, no. I’d love it if you did. Thank you, seriously.”

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You’ve been lying wide awake in your bed for what’s felt like hours. Flipping and tossing about in search of a comfortable spot that you just can‘t seem to find.

It’s not really the bed that’s the problem. It’s your unabating mind that won’t turn off its wandering thoughts. You’ve tried scrolling on your phone, using every app you can think of to distract you. But the thoughts are domineering your every attempt to silence them.

Did they give her the right medications? Are they keeping her oxygen on her? Is someone staying with her all night to make sure she doesn’t stop breathing? Who called 911?

Or, the worst one…the loudest one.

Is she dead and they just haven’t called me yet?

You’re so accustomed to her being here, hearing the humming of her oxygen machine, being able to check on her to be sure she’s okay. At least when she’s here, you know. With her gone, it leaves the floor open for your mind to wander to every terrible scenario that you can’t do anything about. You just don’t know what’s going on. And the unknowing is the worst part.

Your grumbling tummy is just about as loud as your mind, reminding you that you’ve not eaten anything in almost twenty four hours.

There’s nothing else to do, so you pull yourself out of your unwelcoming bed t o go find a midnight (actually, closer to two in the morning) snack.

Eating is a little terrifying to you right now, but you figure some popcorn won’t do much harm.

You slowly open the creaking door of your room, holding your breath as it seems to be louder than normal in the dead quiet apartment. The last thing you want to do is wake Jake up, so it’s vital that you’re as silent as possible as you make the journey to the kitchen.

You tiptoe as gracefully as your tired body will allow across the living room, avoiding coming too close to the couch where Jake sleeps as you walk as far away from him as you can, not even looking in his direction.

A sigh of relief passes your lips as you reach the kitchen successfully.

You know that there’s one more bag of Pop Secret sitting on the second shelf of the cabinet right next to the microwave. Relying only on the soft light above the stove, you shuffle through the various items in search of it until you at last feel the familiar plastic cover.

Instantly upon finding it, you start looking for the nutrition facts to know just how much you’re putting in your body. An old trait of yours that you’ve not done in years, yet suddenly, as if it’s purely muscle memory you flip the bag over to the side to note the amount of calories you’ll be taking.

I’m not reverting back. I’m just curious about what popcorn is made of, that’s all, you try telling yourself. (Although, you know yourself in situations like these. When you’re stressed, you seek comfort in old habits. One old habit of choice just happens to be food restriction and calorie counting.)

It won‘t last long. I won’t let it. I just need something familiar.

130 calories, 6 g fat, 14 g carbs, 2 g protein per 4 cups is printed on the back in dark blue ink.

Could be worse. And there’s nothing saying you have to eat the whole thing. Maybe you can split the bag in half, that way you’re only getting half the fat and carbs. That’ll still be enough to quiet your empty tummy.

You toss the bag in the microwave and set the timer to three minutes, pressing start and cringing at the loud humming from the appliance. You’ve also forgotten just how noisy preparing this little snack can be.

Each pop of the buttered kernels echoes throughout the open kitchen and you’re praying to every star that this won’t wake him up.

With two seconds left on the timer, you quickly open the door to avoid the unpleasant ding that’s sure to wake him up if you didn’t catch it in time.

You pour the contents of the bag into your favorite blue bowl, designated long ago as the official “popcorn bowl.” You can’t go without a little extra salt, so you dump a good amount over top and sift it around so it’s all coated.

You’ve realized that you instinctively poured the entire bag, even though you decided to only eat half. You’re not happy about the extra temptation, but you’re mentally telling yourself that there’s no need to eat this whole bowl.

Shutting the door to the microwave as quietly as you can, you begin to tip toe back to your room to safety.

Only now, you’re met with a slightly horrifying discovery.

He’s laying on his back, sans hoodie that's draped over the arm of the couch and the blanket you gave him sitting just below chest. (God he looks good.) The light from his phone illuminates his face as he’s holding it sideways, seemingly watching a video of some kind. But his drowsy eyes flick to you as you begin the walk back to your room.

As you awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, blue popcorn bowl in hand, he pulls out an earbud and sets his phone down. “Trouble sleeping?” His groggy voice asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, a little embarrassed that he’s caught you in such a state. “I just can’t seem to relax…but what are you still doing awake? I hope I wasn’t being too loud.”

“I’m a bit of an insomniac, I suppose,” he answers. “Popcorn, huh?”

He swings his legs over the side and sits himself up on the end of the couch, a silent request to have you come sit next to him. You take the hint. The company would do you a little good right now, anyway.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” You still can’t help yourself from asking if it’s okay, given your less than welcomed history with him.

“Under one condition,” he remarks, full smirk across his lips.

You stop before you take a seat, slightly terrified of what his ‘condition’ could possibly be.

“And what is that?” you timidly ask.

He flashes you a warm grin that looks all the more inviting under the very dimly lit living room, chuckling lazily under his breath.

“You have to share your snack.”

You nervously laugh as you situate yourself on the opposite side of the couch, taking a few pieces of your snack of choice and passing the bowl over towards his direction.

You catch a glimpse of his phone that’s still unlocked and sitting upright, paused on what looks like some professional chef working away on some fancy meal.

Perfect opportunity for an ice breaker.

“You like cooking?” you ask while tossing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. (You’re really hoping you just got a bad piece, because it tastes burnt to hell and way too salty.)

“I dabble here and there,” he answers through loud crunches.

“I’m the one who needs to watch those videos,” you say, wincing at the second piece you’ve now eaten that tastes just as bad as the last one. “I’m probably the worst cook I know.”

“I’d say so,” he acknowledges through a soft giggle, wincing as he tries more of your snack. “You’ve burnt the shit out of this popcorn and you didn’t need to add so much salt.”

Of course, he noticed.

You’re thankful for the mostly dark room as you can feel the blood rushing to your face over ruining something as simple as popcorn.

But, it’s making him laugh. And you’ve come to really appreciate the moments that you do get to hear him laugh, because it isn’t often. Even though it’s at your own expense, you’ll take it.

It’s surely been a great way to combat any awkward silence between the two of you.

You chuckle to yourself as you set the popcorn bowl on the couch, centering it so you and Jake can both grab some as you please.

“So,” he begins as he brings his feet up to rest on the coffee table in front of you. “I know you’re from somewhere where haunted houses are called spook houses. Where might that be? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oklahoma,” you answer, a little embarrassed. You’ve learned that your home state isn’t much of a popular one amongst people. Although you do understand why, you can’t help but find yourself missing it every now and again. It has its charm, however hard it may be to find. You know it’s there. Parts of it still remain lovingly in your heart. “A very, very small town in Oklahoma called Cherry Tree.”k,

With a soft nod of his head, his hair falls around his face and even in the dark, you can see how shiny it is. You can even see the soft smile over his lips. “I hear it in your voice,” he softly says. You look to him with question, silently asking him to elaborate. With a snicker, he continues. “Your little southern drawl. It’s not very strong, but it definitely stands out around here. A far cry from a Michigan accent.”

Your whole life, you’d tried to mask your naturally derived, southern accent. You hated it. And you hated when people told you that you had one. It just made you want to unlearn it even more.

Especially when you knew you would move to Michigan. The last thing you wanted was to stand out as if you’re not from here.

Clearly, your efforts were useless. And as much as you’ve cringed when people have brought up the way you talk in the past, there’s something about hearing Jake point it out that actually makes you a little fond of it.

Maybe it truly isn’t something to feel any shame over. It makes you unique, sets you apart, and perhaps that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

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Time feels mute, like it doesn’t exist in this realm you and Jake are together in.

The early dawn is creeping through the window blinds, and when you glance at your phone, you come to realize that you’ve been talking with him for nearly three hours, and that’s shocking to you—it’s shocking because it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long.

The conversations have been flowing so naturally, so authentically. He’s easy to talk to. So easy. You would've never guessed how seamless keeping a conversation going with him could be.

And, to your astonishment, he’s done most of the talking. You’re witnessing a brand new side of him, one that you could’ve sworn wasn’t there. It seems as though he’s finally comfortable with you. Which is a really good thing, considering he’s spending the night in your place.

He’s been the best distraction for you amidst everything. If he weren’t here, you’d be lying in your bed, probably crying your eyes out and dealing with the anxiety all alone.

He’s the very last person you’d suspect would be here for you in a time like this. But, fuck, if you aren’t so happy that it is him.

And as time has gone on, you’ve both moved closer and closer to each other. His legs are spread out on the expanse of his cushion and yours, while your legs are slowly coming to rest on top of his, your body facing him.

Every so often, his hand will find your calf as if he’s done it a thousand times before. An innate gesture that he hardly seems to notice he’s doing.

But you certainly notice, every single time it happens. Each brush of his hand against your skin causes your heart to flutter. It’s innocent, of course. But it’s the fact that he’s finally revealing himself to you, that he’s trusting you.

It feels good. It feels really good.

You’re listening intently as he’s telling you more about the music that has shaped his life up until now. You’ve never noticed all of his little mannerisms, like the way he brushes the tip of his nose after he laughs, or how his hands struggle to stay still when he talks.

And his eyes, the way they beautifully catch the early light. Their color like a glass of honeyed whiskey over ice, glowing against the rays of the young sun.

“...and that’s when I discovered the versatility of the SG. My dad searched the entire midwest until he finally found one for me.” The palm of his hand comes to rest on your leg again, only this time, it’s a little higher. His fingertips dare to brush the inside of your upper thigh, his thumb tracing delicate circles across your now trembling skin. The fire within you is growing, felt from the pit of your stomach to your swimming head. “That guitar taught me how to challenge myself. My dad encouraged me every day to keep playing and I’ll never be able to thank–”

Something changes in his eyes, his expression faltering as he falls silent. There’s a sudden difference in him, one you can’t quite grasp.

And then he looks down at his hand still placed upon you, and with a thousand silent words, he removes it. Quickly. Like he didn’t realize it was there in the first place. Or, worse; like he was suddenly repulsed by the fact that he was touching you.

The room changes abruptly, the air feels heavier, denser. You notice he avoids meeting your gaze, his thought left unfinished.

What have I done wrong?

“Jake?”

He moves so he’s now sitting upright, as close to the other end of the couch as he can be. Furthest away from you.

“I should…I should probably get some sleep,” he says, the words sounding ever unsure. “And you should, too. We’ve only got…” He takes his phone to look at the time, breathing deeply from his lungs when he sees that it’s nearly six in the morning. “Jesus.” He runs a hand over his face in…frustration? Exhaustion? You can’t be sure. “We’ve only got about two hours until they allow visitors, and I’ve got to go to work right after.”

You take the hint that he wants you away from him.

But for what reason? Well, you’ll be left to wonder that for the next few hours, alone.

You don’t say anything as you stand up, only nodding your head and shielding your face the best you can.

You don’t want him to see the new tears that have begun to surface.

“Sorry,” is all you can muster as you open the door to your room. He doesn't respond, only pure silence comes from the living room.

Whatever you did, it was enough to force him to realize he doesn't want to be close to you, emotionally or physically.

It was going so well. But, you ruined it. Just like you ruin everything else in your life.

You’ve no doubt that you won’t be getting any sleep for the next few hours. Your thoughts are too loud, screaming everything you’ve ever done wrong in your ear.

And you can’t get the look in his eyes out of your head, how they appeared uncomfortable being in your presence. How he suddenly decided he didn’t want to be around you.

But, then again, you can’t blame him. Because who in their right mind would want to be around you?

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The alarm on your phone is blaring. You’ve been counting down the minutes until it was set to go off, laying in complete silence and watching nothing but the clock. Every second felt like twenty minutes in your brain.

When you walk out into the living room, you’re met with an empty space. No Jake.

Did he leave…?

The couch is back to normal, the blankets you gave him folded and sitting on the cushion under the pillow you let him use. (Your favorite pillow, but you’ll never tell him that you sacrificed it for him.)

Great. He’s gone.

And you have no way of getting to the hospital without him.

Natalia.

You’ll call her, see if she can take you.

Which you shouldn’t have to do. He said he would take you, and he just fucking left.

It’s safe to assume that whatever relationship you were building with him last night, has all but left the apartment with him.

Deciding it’s not worth your time at this point, you grab your phone, unlocking it and tapping on Nat’s contact to call her.

It’s ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

Fuck. If she doesn’t answer, you don’t know what you’ll–

“What are you calling me so early on a Saturday for?” She finally answers, her raspy voice a clear indication that she’s just woken up.

“I need your help, Nat. Can you come get me and take me to the hospital?”

You hear her gasp on the other end of the phone.

“What? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, her questions coming in quick succession.

“To make a long story short, my car broke down at the Kiszka’s last night, so Jake had to bring me home. There was an ambulance when we got here, and it were here for my mom. They took her to the hospital, but I had to come separately. So, since I didn’t have my car, Jake took me. I couldn’t stay the night with her and when he brought me back home, he stayed the night to be here in the morning to take me back to her, but he left a while ago and I was hoping you could come get me.”

Even you can’t believe the words out of your mouth. A convoluted mess that you hope she’s comprehending at such an early hour.

“Holy shit, y/n. Yeah, of course. Is your mom okay?” she questions after a brief moment of silence, probably in an attempt to understand the shit show you’re currently dealing with. “And where the hell did Jake go?”

“Wish I knew,” you say with a cynical tone. “And I don’t really know. They told me she was stable last night but they still needed to keep her. Since I was gone, I have next to no idea of what happened.”

Just as she begins to respond to you, you feel your phone vibrate against your cheek.

“One sec, Nat. I think I just got a text.”

Jake: I’m outside in the car. Ready whenever you are.

“What the fuck, Jake,” you mutter softly, but loud enough that Nat heard you on the other end of the phone call you’re still on. He couldn’t have communicated this to you?

No. Instead, he just made you believe he left.

Either way, you’re glad he’s still here. He’s not that cold towards you. (Although you’re not exactly shocked at the fact that you didn’t question it when you thought he left.)

“What did he do?” You hear her say at a low volume.

Bringing the phone back up to your ear, you say, “He’s still here, apparently. Just in the car waiting for me. I’ve got to go, I’ll keep you updated.”

With that, you hang up the phone and quickly begin to get ready.

You take the first pair of leggings you see sitting in your dresser, then decide to throw on your vintage, oversized Billy Joel sweatshirt that you'd completely forgoton you owned.

The state of your hair is one that you can’t do much with at the moment, you figure a messy claw-clip bun will have to suffice. You put a little moisturizer on your face, grab your belt bag and keys, and run out the door. As much as Jake has upset you in the last few hours, you still don’t want to keep him waiting any longer than he already has.

He’s sitting in his car, just like he said. Wearing the infamous John Lennon frames that remind you of when you first encountered him. You had no idea at that moment, when he brushed up against you in the hall, when he tried to make you look like an idiot in class, that you’d be here with him. And if you’re honest, given the way he reacted to your closeness last night, you’re not sure this is much better.

It’s like he wants to be closer to you, but when the time actually comes, he realizes it’s you he’s getting closer to, and backs off. And that effectively makes you feel about a hundred times worse than you did a few months ago.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were out here already,” you tell him as you open the passenger door and take a seat.

“No problem.” He waits until you’re buckled and settled before he starts backing out of the spot, his right hand grabbing the head rest of your seat while he turns his body to have a better view of the back window.

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The drive has been quiet, (shocker) save for his music. Something you can’t deny him is his impeccable taste, his taste that is so similar to yours.

He must’ve taken notice of your Billy Joel sweatshirt, because, ironically, Vienna begins playing over the speakers. One of your favorites. And one that, without fail, makes you cry every single time. He probably queued it up because of your shirt, but little does he know of the deep, deep history you have with this song.

He doesn’t know that your dad used to play this song while you were getting ready for school in the mornings, how he told you one time that he wanted to name you the title of this track, but your mom wouldn’t agree to it. But, that didn’t stop him from associating the tune with you.

He called you his little Vienna for a good chunk of your childhood, up until you got to high school and asked him to stop out of embarrassment. You didn’t want everyone privy to your dads nickname for you. Just a normal, teenage thing.

Then you remember…This was your dad’s sweatshirt that he gave to you a long, long time ago when he left for a work trip. You were devastated that he was going to be gone. He gave it to you for comfort, to keep a piece of him with you while he was away.

And you chose to wear it today, of all days. When you need the extra comfort. When you know, deep down, that you need him. Your subconscious knew it. That’s why you gravitated towards this shirt without even realizing that you were.

You’ve not heard this song since he left. Not even so much as thought about Billy Joel’s music, let alone this sweatshirt that somehow made the move to Michigan when you thought you got rid of everything from your dad.

A single tear falls from your eye, landing on the top of your lip. You taste its salty presence before you wipe it away with the cuff of your (his) shirt.

The lyrics feel heavier than they ever have.

Why don’t you realize…Vienna waits for you?

When will you realize…

As the song comes to an end, as Billy plays the final note on his piano, you arrive at the hospital. (Something about it feels poetic.)

He stops at the main entrance of the hospital this time, instead of the emergency room one.

“I have to go into work,” he says while you’re unbuckling your belt. “So just text me and let me know when you’re ready to leave and I’ll come get you.”

“If it’s too much trouble for you, I can just ask Natalia.” You say as you get out of his car. “ I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She doesn’t work today, so it’d be easier for her.”

Your tone is awfully cold. Distant.

You feel like you’ve bothered him enough. So, you want to give him an out. He probably regrets ever helping you in the first place.

His eyebrows become wrinkled underneath his sunglasses as he’s looking at you. Before you go to close the door, you hear him speak up.

“Well, that–that’s up to you, I suppose. But I don’t mind, y/n.”

“I’ll let you know,” you say, staring down at your feet as you’re finding it difficult to make eye contact with him right now. “Thank you again.”

And after that, you shut the door and walk towards the front door, hearing him drive away behind you.

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“She’s in room 430. Just take the elevator to the fourth floor and follow the signs. You’ll come up to locked doors, so you’ll have to buzz in with the phone on the wall. Just tell them your name and who you’re here to see, and they’ll let you in.” This receptionist is worlds kinder than the one you encountered last night. She’s got kindness inscribed in her dark eyes, and a smile that tells you she truly cares about her job. Her long curly locks are beautiful and charming, the color a lovely shade of auburn. Perhaps not natural, as her roots are nearly black. But this shade suits her skin tone perfectly.

“Are there stairs I could take instead?” You ask the curly headed receptionist. Elevators are not your thing. You’ve had a lifelong fear of becoming trapped in one, and with your anxiety levels higher than usual today, it’s probably best if you avoid them altogether.

She shows you a warm smile as she guides your sight in the direction of the staircase. Thanking her, you quickly head that way.

The climb up the stairs is grueling and as you finally reach the last step, you’re struggling to catch your breath. It seems you didn’t realize just how many steps there are in four flights. It’s a lot of steps. But, still much better than the chance of becoming trapped in a tiny ass elevator.

After catching your breath, you take heed of the receptionist's directions and follow the signs that lead you in the direction of her room. And just like she said, there’s a set of locked doors with a phone hanging on the wall.

As soon as you lift it from the receiver, someone answers instantly. You tell them your name and your moms. They verify her birthday with you and once you tell them the correct date, you hear the doors unlock. You thank them before hanging up the phone and heading down the long, somewhat eerie hallway.

You’ve always wondered why hospitals look like this. The cold, stark white walls and matching laminate flooring, the harsh fluorescents that are painful to look at. Nothing about it is inviting or comforting in the least, and you’ve always thought they should be. Especially for long term patients that are stuck here for god knows how long.

It just doesn’t make sense to you. In your mind, hospitals should strive to have a warmer environment, for nothing else other than to make people feel more at ease when they’re in hard situations.

As you’re nearing the end of the hallway, you see room 428 on your left, 429 a little ways further on your right, meaning 430 is the very last one on the end to your left.

The door is open, and just as you’re approaching it, a nurse is leaving the room with her rolling cart that’s carrying a slew of things to check, what you’re assuming, are vitals.

She smiles as she walks past you, her squealing cart still audible as she rounds the corner to the unit secretary desk.

You’re still for a moment, standing just a mere feet from her. Out of her sight, of course. And she out of yours as you’re not standing in the view of the doorway.

There’s a rush of hesitancy forcing you to stay where you are. You’re not sure where it’s derived from, perhaps it’s from the fear of seeing her in such a state.

Perhaps it’s something else. But you don’t know what.

Finally deciding that just standing here isn’t doing you or her any bit of good, you put one shaky foot in front of the other and walk towards the open door.

And then, you see her.

Looking the smallest she’s ever looked in your eyes. She looks too small for all of the devices she’s hooked up to.

Tangled wires. A mess of tangled wires and tubes and IV bags…

As you walk in a little further, she hears you. Her eyes, ever slow in their movement, blink open and shift to you.

They’re heavy, almost drooping down her pale cheeks. They look tired. So, so tired.

“Hi, honey.” Her words come through in a sad attempt of vocalization. You hardly understood her, more so relying on reading the movement of her lips than anything. Her hand, complete with an IV needle, raises to motion a weak wave at you.

I wasn’t there. I wasn’t fucking there when she needed me. I can’t leave her…I can’t leave ever again. It’s all my fault.

“Mom I’m–I’m so sorr–”

“You must be y/n!” You hear a booming voice from behind you, interrupting entirely. When you turn around, you see an incredibly tall man wearing a set of blue scrubs with a white lab coat on top. “Your mom has told us a lot about you. I feel like I know you already.”

As he reaches out his hand for you to shake, he smiles widely when you take it in yours. “I’m Doctor Roth. It’s nice to meet you.”

He seems positive. The smile he’s wearing makes you believe that everything just might be okay. “It’s really nice to meet you, too,” you say, a little timid.

You look back to your mom, who seems to have fallen back to sleep. Rest is probably the best thing for her right now, so you don’t want to wake her. Even though all you want is to talk to her, tell her how terrible you feel that you weren’t there. But it can wait. As long as she’s resting.

“Hey, y/n.” Doctor Roth pulls your attention away from her with his James Earl Jones-esque voice. “Would you mind coming to speak with me for a moment?”

While his bearings have changed a bit, he’s still smiling. But, something is a little off in his tone with the question he asked you.

“Um, yeah. Of course.” You tell him, although you’re not sure you want to have this conversation.

Will he tell you that she’s progressed much further than you initially thought? That she’ll never leave this hospital again? She’s dying and will be dead soon?

As he leads you down the hall, stopping at a little room near the restroom, your heart is thumping rampantly in your tightening chest.

“Before we begin,” he says while pulling a wooden chair out for you to have a seat. “Is there anything I can get you? Water? Coffee? I believe we have herbal tea, if you’d prefer.”

Herbal tea always sounds wonderful to you, but you’re not sure you could even stomach a simple cup of water right now, so you politely decline his kind offer.

“I would just like to ask you a few questions about your mom, if that’s okay.” He takes a seat directly across from you at the round table centered in the middle of the conference room.

You nod your head, letting him know you’re okay with it.

“I understand she is prescribed a series of medications for her pulmonary fibrosis. If my memory serves me correctly, she’s on Ofev, Pirfenidone and an anti-inflammatory. Is that everything?” He asks you, taking his rectangle frames off and placing them on top of his head.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You give her those pills every single night. You know their strange names by heart at this point. “She also uses a few different inhalers to help airflow from her lungs. And she wears her oxygen about eighty percent of the time, of course.”

“Right,” he says, blowing out a long sigh as he sits back in his chair. “Well, let me ask you this. When was the last time she took those medications? That you know of, of course.”

“She took them last night before I left.” You answer, confidently.

“Are you sure she did, y/n?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” you say with a little offense. “I watched her take them before I left—”

Then, you suddenly remember that you didn’t actually see her take them. You left them out for her and reminded her to take them before bed, but you didn’t see her take them.

“I guess…I guess she didn’t take them before I left. But, I’m sure she took them before bed. She always does.” There’s a terrible feeling present within you, making your already turning tummy feel a lot worse. “Doctor Roth, why are you asking me this?”

“There wasn’t any indication of them in her system when she came in. Usually, those drugs can be detected for a few days after they’ve been taken, but there was no sign of them in her bloodstream. Meaning, she hasn’t taken them in at least two to three days.”

No. He’s wrong.

“That’s not possible. I give them to her every night. With the exception of last night, I always watch her take them. I make sure she takes them. I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be mistaken.” Your offense has now shifted to full on defense.

He’s questioning your ability to take care of her, and that is not something you will take lying down. There’s a whole list of things you’re terrible at, but taking care of your mom is not part of that list. You know that for a damn fact.

You’re not going to sit here and take this, so you decide enough is enough and stand up from your chair to leave.

“Y/n, please. I need you to listen to me. The progression of her disease, it’s…” That word. Progression. It stops you dead in your tracks. You hate that word. “...it’s the quickest I’ve ever seen in my fifteen years of practicing. If she were taking her medication as she’s supposed to, her lungs wouldn’t look as bad as they do. They would still look bad, but those medications help to slow the stiffening of her lungs. But with the state they’re in, it’s clear that she’s taken very little to no medications.”

You’re not sure what to make of this…what is he saying?

Well, clearly he’s saying that she’s not taking her medications…but how?

You give them to her, you see her take them…right?

“Is—is there a chance her disease is just progressing more rapidly than what’s normally expected?” You hate saying those words. They feel like poison coming out of your mouth. But they sound better than “she’s not taking her medication.”

He stands up from his chair to stand closer to you, taking his glasses off his head and placing an end piece on his bottom lip. “That is a possibility, although that doesn’t explain why we saw no signs of her medications in her bloodstream.”

“Is she on them now? Is that why she’s so groggy?” You ask him, remembering how she was hardly able to speak or move when you saw her just moments ago.

“Yes, she is. And that is another sign that she’s not been taking them as prescribed. Her body should be adjusted to the severe lethargy that these are known to cause, and it’s clear she’s not.”

While you know Doctor Roth has no reason to lie to you, you still can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely. It’s not like your mom to do this, to not take care of herself.

But there’s no sense in arguing with him anymore. It’s not worth it. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s here.

And as that terrible thought resurfaces, you’re reminded of a question you need to ask him.

“How much longer will she need to stay here?”

“I can’t be certain,” he answers. “But we’ll need to monitor her a bit longer, run a few more tests. At least another three days or so, but we’ll let you know when we believe she’s ready.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

She’s still fast asleep, having been for a few hours while you sit quietly on the stiff couch in the corner of her room. The room is small, stuffy. Her only source of entertainment is a tiny television mounted high on the wall.

You know she hates it here. You hate it for her.

But the one redeeming thing about this room is her giant window that offers a beautiful view of the city skyline. Detroit is always busy, always bustling.

But it’s lovely, especially from this fourth story view.

And it's a nice distraction from the beeping monitors and noisy machines.

Nurses have been in and out every hour to check her vitals, making small talk with you while they record every result. They’ve all been so friendly, each one of them asking if they can bring you anything to eat. You’ve turned them down each time.

Food hasn’t been your concern today. Wasn’t your concern yesterday, either.

You’re hungry, that much you can tell. But you can think of a million things you’d rather do right now than eat. Eating would only increase your anxious thoughts, and that wouldn’t do you a bit of good at the moment.

You can just eat when you get home. You’ll last until then. (You’ve lasted a hell of a lot longer than this before.)

You suddenly feel the vibration of your phone still tucked away in the waistband of your leggings.

To your astonishment, it's a text from Jake.

You didn’t expect to hear from him, but seeing his name on the screen of your phone does feel nice. It feels really nice, actually.

Jake: I meant to ask but it slipped my mind. How's your hand?

You’d completely forgotten about your hand. But Jake didn’t.

And it warms your heart that he thought to ask about something so meaningless to you.

You look down to examine your fist to give him a proper answer. Aside from a slight purple tint on the skin, you wouldn’t be able to guess it was injured at all.

You: It’s much better. Some bruising but no more swelling and I can hardly feel it. The ice really helped!

He responds almost instantly, meaning he probably still had your messages still pulled up on his end.

Jake: Good. : )

Jake, although he has his moments, is great at forcing a smile out of you when it feels impossible to do so.

His message is reassuring, especially with how last night (early this morning, actually) ended.

Before you can type out a response, you notice she’s beginning to stir just a bit. She’s done this periodically throughout the day, but this is the first time you’ve seen her open her eyes since this morning when you first arrived.

She turns her head a bit towards you, so you get up and move closer to her.

“Hi, mom.” You say softly.

She smiles at you, the best she can despite every obstruction on her face.

Just then, a nurse walks in for her hourly check. “She’s awake!” He excitedly exclaims.

He’s young, probably a fresh graduate. You’ve seen him in here once before a few hours ago. He’s very sweet, the kindness you’d expect every nurse to have.

He runs through her vitals quickly, telling you he wants to give you two plenty of alone time.

You thank him as he leaves, and he flashes a sincere smile while he turns the corner of the hallway.

Her eyes are suddenly glued to you, but not just you. Your sweatshirt.

“Where’d you find that, honey?” She questions.

“Oh, I don’t know I just— I’m not worried about it. I am worried about you. What happened last night, mom?”

You’re sure she recognizes that it’s your dads…and you feel terrible for wearing it around her right now for that very reason. You just didn’t consider it. So, it’s probably best to change the subject.

She sits up a bit and you reach out to help her. You place her pillows in a way that keeps her upright without her needing to use much strength to do so. Once she’s comfortable, you sit down in the recliner next to her bed.

“They’re telling me all kinds of crazy things,” she says. “I’m just fine, I know I am.”

They’ve more than likely asked her about her medications, how they didn’t find any in her system. You want so badly to ask her about that. But, it’s not the time. Not yet.

“I feel so bad, mom. I shouldn't have been out that late. I should’ve been there, I could’ve done something, I…” Your throat becomes tight with a lump, your eyes brimming with a hundred unshed tears. It’s just all too much. And you feel like you’re to blame. You just can’t shake that feeling.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl.” Her weak hand reaches out for yours. As you take it, you notice just how clammy she feels. “It would’ve happened whether or not you were there. I think it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

She’s probably right. But, had you been there, maybe the ambulance would’ve been called sooner.

The ambulance. How did they…? “Mom, I have to know who to thank for saving your life.” The tears are streaming down your hot cheeks at this point. “Do you know who called?”

“Mrs. Sweeney,” she answers right away, as if it didn’t require any thought. “Bless her soul. She’s the sweetest lady. She heard me cry out just as I fainted, and called 911 for me.”

Mrs. Sweeney is your next door neighbor in your complex. She’s been the most wonderful neighbor to your and your mom since you moved in. It makes perfect sense that she’d be the one to call.

“I’ll have to thank her,” you say, wiping away the tears. “She did what I should’ve been there to do.”

Her eyes suddenly widen, a stark contrast in how they’ve looked all day. “There’s…there’s no need, honey. I already thanked her. Called her last night, she’s been thanked plenty.”

She could call Mrs. Sweeney…but not me?

“Oh. Well, okay," you say, confused. “I guess it would be beating a dead horse at this point to thank her again.” And with that, her eyes go back to their groggy state, closing slowly as she falls back to sleep.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“How is she?” Jake asks as you climb in the passenger's seat. He insisted on coming to get you as soon as visitings hours ended. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He told you he was already on that side of town anyways, so he didn’t see the point in you asking Natalia to make the trip.

“She’s…I don’t really know, to be honest.” It’s true. You don’t know how she is. You’re leaving the hospital with more questions than you had coming in.

His question…there’s just no easy way to answer it. “She’s okay, for now. But she…she may not be much longer. It’s…complicated.”

“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to. I’m glad she’s okay at the moment.” He tells you.

You smile at him, then relish in the silence the rest of the way home.

You’re grateful that he’s not prying. It’s too much to talk about right now, and it seems he’s picked up on that.

You breathe a deep sigh of relief when you arrive at your apartment, ready to climb in bed and try to get some much needed sleep.

You thank Jake before he leaves, fishing for your keys out of your belt bag as you head up the stairs to the third floor.

Once you make it to your door, you see Mrs. Sweeney leaving as you’re about to walk into your place. Your mom told you not to thank her again, but you can’t help it. You still haven’t thanked her, and it’s just not in your character to ignore a good deed from someone.

“Mrs. Sweeney?” You say as she’s locking her door.

“Hi, dear! How's your mom today? I’m sure you two have had quite the night.”

“She’s okay,” you say, the words feeling like a lie. “All thanks to you. I can’t thank you enough for calling the ambulance last night. Seriously, you saved her life when I wasn’t here–”

You stop talking once you see her expression change. She looks befuddled, almost disoriented. “Oh honey, I’m not the one who called last night. I thought you did, dear.”

…she didn’t call?

“But my mom said— you didn’t hear her call out for help?”

With a contemplative look, she puts her keys in her purse and faces you. “I didn’t hear anything. And I was home all night. This is the first I’ve left since yesterday morning. I’m sorry I didn’t hear her, dear. Were you not home?”

As if it were even possible, there are more questions filling your head.

“I wasn’t, but I’m sure one of the other neighbors called. Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Sweeney. I hope you have a good day!”

“Not a bother at all, love.”

You walk into your empty apartment, in a near state of shock.

Why did your mom lie to you? And so blatantly, at that? It’s not something you want to let yourself believe. Maybe it was because of her state, she was just confused after everything. But…she didn’t look confused.

And she told you she talked to Mrs. Sweeney herself, which clearly didn’t happen.

As much as you want to figure all of this out, you’re far too exhausted to give it much more thought. You need sleep. Sleep first, then you can get to the bottom of it. But for now, the only thing you’re craving is your bed.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

A pounding on the door wakes you from the depths of your slumber, nearly startling you off the bed in the process. The post nap disorientation is in full effect. The sun was still up when you laid down, and now your room is in almost complete darkness.

The pounding on the door persists, forcing you to wake up all the way. Who in the world…?

Hesitant to answer with it being so late and being all by yourself, you reach for your phone in case you need to call someone.

And right as you go to grab, you realize you have four text messages from Nat.

Nat: Are you home yet??

Nat: If you are, be ready to come outside in about 20.

Nat: Hello?

Nat: COME OUTSIDE! We have a surprise for you.

Based on the messages, you’re realizing that Nat is the persistent knocker. You love this girl so much, and you’re hoping that whatever her surprise is was worth waking you up for.

Also, you’re not sure what she meant by “we,” though you’ve got a hunch it could be her new suitor.

You: Sorry, just woke up. On my way

Summoning what little strength you have left, you force yourself to get out of bed and head towards the front door. Your feet are literally dragging as you walk across the dark apartment. Turning on the outside light, you swing open the door to Nat’s beaming, beautiful face adorned with a full toothed smile.

“Hey there, sleepy head!”

Bringing your hand up, you rub what’s left of your (very little) sleep from your eyes.

“What’s your surprise?” You ask with a tired voice.

“Hold out your hand,” she says, an enormous grin still across her face. “And close your eyes.”

With as heavy as your eyes still are, closing them isn’t an issue. (You just wish you were still in bed while doing it.)

You do as she says, and as soon as your eyelids are shut and your hands are outreached, she places something peculiar in your flattened palms.

“What is thi–'' you begin to ask, interrupted by her as she practically yells for you to open your eyes.

And when you do, you see a single key.

But, not just any key. It’s the key to your shitty ass Firebird.

“What the hell? Natalia Delores, what did you do?” You ask her, having a good idea of what this is all about.

And then you hear a honking coming from the parking lot. As you look over the edge of the stairs, you see Danny’s curly brown locks hanging out of the driver's side window of your car.

“Surprise!” She exclaims. “Dan the handyman fixed your car!”

Cringing at the ridiculous nickname, you give her a huge hug before sprinting down the stairs to do the same to handyman Dan.

“Did you realize you were missing your key?” He asks as he wraps you in a long embrace.

“I had no idea,” you say, still held tightly in Danny’s muscular arms. “How did you guys manage to get it without me noticing?”

“Jake,” Nat tells you. “He took it off your keyring this morning.”

You’ve a good feeling that happened before you got up this morning, probably before he went out to wait in his car.

Danny is the first to break the hug, leaving you on your own against the chilly night air.

“Can I pay you for this?” You ask him, crossing your arms over your chest to act as a barrier from the cold.

“Absolutely not. I won’t accept a single dime from you.” He insists, brushing a curl out of his face.

“Danny, I know this was probably really expens–”

“Nope.” He interrupts. “Not a dime.”

With a fake grunt of irritation, you give in. (Partly so you can get inside and out of the cold.)

“Thank you. Thank you both, seriously. This is such a huge burden lifted.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Despite how things transpired with you and Sam, he’s still treated you the very same. You were terrified that there would be some awkward air with you two after the way you left him the other night, but it’s as if he’s all but forgotten about it. He still fawned over you when you arrived for filming tonight, him and Josh referring to you as “the queen” when you walked in, as usual.

You haven’t told him about your mom. In fact, the only people who know are Jake and Natalia. You asked them both to not say anything. It’s not because you don’t trust everyone—they’ve all become some of the best friends you’ve ever had in your life, better than any friend you had back in Oklahoma. You just don’t want the attention that would inevitably bring. You don’t need them feeling sorry for you, and you don’t need them asking questions that you don’t want to answer, to questions you can’t answer. And you know it would lead to the fact that your dad doesn’t have shit to do with you.

It’s just not something that needs to be advertised, not yet. You don’t want it to be the only thing everyone associates you with. You want them to still like you for you. Everything else can be addressed later.

Of course, that did raise some other questions. Mostly about why Jake didn’t come home that night when your car broke down. His response to his brothers was simple; he just didn’t feel like driving back home that late, so he crashed on your couch. That wasn’t too far from the truth.

They didn’t even bat an eye at it. Just accepted it as fact and moved right on, not giving it a second thought. Jake is a bit distant from his brothers at times, so it’s probably not entirely out of the norm for him to not come home some nights.

You’re glad that things have been pretty much normal for you and your filming crew.

While you’re not acting tonight, you decided to come over to the Kiszka place anyway, just to get away from your own mess for a little while. The apartment feels much bigger when it’s just you living in it. You love to have your alone time, but it’s been so much lately that your mind is going to some dark places, places that you’re forced to revisit when there’s no one else around to distract you.

So, suffice to say, you jumped at the opportunity when Josh asked you to come over tonight. He often invites you over on filming nights when your scenes aren’t being shot, says he enjoys your company and input on accuracies pertaining to the lore. You normally turn him down on those instances, feeling far too guilty for leaving your mom when you are filming. But with her still being in the hospital, you didn’t see the harm in taking him up on it this time.

Tonight's scene is between Arthur and Camille. Between Jake and Stacy. The first time you’ll see Jake as Arthur, and you’ll finally get to see for yourself what their on-camera chemistry is like. You’ve been told more than once that they’re great together, but now you have the chance to see it instead of just being told about it.

Although, you’re not exactly excited to see them interact this way. And a huge part of you is hoping that they’ll royally suck together. You’ve been so busy that you haven’t had time to come watch their scenes, not that you’ve really tried that hard to do so. You could’ve if you actually wanted to.

But, you figured you’d rather see it in person than wait until the film is finished. And your imagination has run rampant with what they’re like together and the ‘not knowing’ has been painful. At least after tonight, you’ll know. You won’t have to wonder anymore, and it won’t be a surprise when you get to see the film in its entirety.

Something you’re a little (more than a little, honestly) happy about is the fact that Stacy doesn’t have her “own” dressing room like you do. Granted, it’s Jake's room that has been designated as your changing space. But, still. She’s stuck using the guest bathroom to change in, and you can’t help the curling of your lips when you see her struggle to carry her costumes in there.

Nat nudges your shoulder with hers when she catches your grin, letting you know that she saw that. You can tell by her features that she’s thinking the exact same thing.

“You know I need more details.” She says, hushed.

You know exactly what she’s talking about, but you’ll play dumb anyway.

“Details?” You question with a look of false confusion. “Details about what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, y/n. Tell me more about Jake spending the night with you.”

You shush her as you lead her over to the dining table for a little more seclusion, both sitting in the chairs furthest away from the commotion in the living room where Josh and Malachi are busy adding the final touches to tonight's set.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re wondering. Neither one of us could sleep very well, so we sat on the couch and talked for a bit, but that’s all.” You stare down at your thumbs as you twiddle them. You don’t really feel like mentioning him physically brushing you off when you both got a little too close for his comfort. You don’t even like thinking about it, let alone talking about it.

Attempting to come up with something to change the subject, you feel terrible when you realize you’ve not even asked Nat anything about her and Danny. You perk up when at the opportunity to talk about something that isn’t the awkwardness between you and Jake.

“Speaking of details,” you say, sitting both your elbows on the table and resting your face in your hands, giving her your full attention. “I need you to tell me everything about you and Daniel this very minute. And don’t you dare leave out a single thing.”

A beautifully shy smile stretches her plump lips as she tucks a loose curl behind her ear.

“Well, what would you like to talk about first?” She asks, her eyes lighting up. “The fact that we’ve seen each other everyday since our first date, or the fact that he’s the best I’ve ever had in bed?”

Your hands drop to the table, a stupidly massive smile plastered to your face.

“Natalia!” You exclaim, scooting closer to her. “I can’t believe it, dude! So, are you, like, official? Or just fucking?”

“Official,” she says, your mouth dropping from pure excitement for them. You can’t get over it. They make such a stunning couple. And she’s clearly so damn happy. That’s the most important thing. “And fucking,” she continues as you throw a hand over your mouth to muffle the laughter. “ A lot of it, too.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

She looks breathtaking. Gorgeous. The pale shade of purple they have her in accentuates the emerald tones in her round eyes, the matching flowers in her braided hair look like a halo casted over her shiny, sunshine-yellow locks.

Stacy’s appearance serves as a stark contrast to Guinevere’s. Her look embodies sweetness, innocence. While your character exudes sensuality as an adulteress with her black and red color palette, Stacy’s is meant to radiate charm and a sense of purity. Purity in the sense that, while she’s cheating with Arthur, she isn’t cheating on Arthur.

Josh did this on purpose, to make Camille look innocent and unassuming, but in reality, she will be a catalyst in King Arthur's inevitable downfall. The fact that she’s an evil enchantress is hidden beneath her flowery looks. With everyone believing Guinevere to be the horrid seductress, no one would suspect that the true horror lies in the guise of Camille, who’s ever cunning under her false veil.

Though you’re not surprised, she looks the epitome of sheer beauty. Walking perfection. And it’s a bit painful to see. She’s everything you wish you could be.

You’re suddenly not sure you’re ready to see her interact with Jake in this scene. But, better now than later. Get it over with so you won’t have to wonder. You can sulk about it later when you have time to really feel your insecurities.

And now, here comes Jake. As if it weren’t hard enough to witness the utter beauty that Stacy carries, it’s an entirely different feeling with Jake’s.

He looks…just so damn good.

Tonight, instead of just the usual chainmail top and black trousers, he’s added a touch of regality with black velvet cloak over top, the very same one Josh promised him months ago. He looks like true royalty, exuding an aura of majesty, complete with a sword sheathed at his side.

They both get settled in their respective places on set, and as soon as Josh yells “action,” a surge of unease radiates within you as you feel your whole body tense up.

As soon as they slip effortlessly into their characters, their obvious chemistry is instantly ignited before the camera. Every touch, every glance they share is loaded with an undeniable intensity.

The way Jake's hand lingers on Stacy's waist, the way they lock eyes with such intensity…you can’t deny the fact that they’re wonderful together. Aesthetically, they just fit. Much better than you and Jake would, you’ve no doubt.

When Jake speaks his first line, you’re shocked to hear him use a British accent. A horrible one, at that.

You have to cover your face to hide the fact that you’re trying not to burst at the seams. But you’re not the only one. Nat has turned her head entirely in the direction opposite of you, which is probably a good thing. One glance at each other and you’d both break with boisterous laughter.

Sam, however, makes no attempt to hide his true feelings. Standing right behind you, he loudly chuckles his classic, Sam laugh that makes it even harder for you to maintain composure.

Then, you hear a very audible groan from Josh, followed by yelling “CUT!” at the top of his lungs.

“Why did you stop us?” Jake blurts out, his arms flailing in obvious frustration.

“I told you to use whatever creative liberty you deemed necessary for the character,” Josh confirms, both hands resting on his hips. “But I’ve asked, more than once, mind you, to not use that ridiculous fucking accent.”

Here we go. It just wouldn’t be a normal night of filming without at least several fights from the twins.

“It’s essential to the character, Josh. He is the legendary King of Britain, is he not?” His question is more like a statement, adding extra emphasis on the word “Britain” to secure his point.

“I told you, Sir Jacob.”

Sir Jacob…?

“It doesn’t make sense if no one else is following suit with your shitty accent.” Josh continues. Jake flips a rather dramatic middle finger towards his twin, with Josh generously showing him the very same affection.

“Alright. Take two of scene number 67,” Josh pauses a moment, waiting until they’re ready. “And…action.”

Thanks to Jake's “creative liberty,” you have to sit through the scene again, watching them and their perfect chemistry—again.

And then…

…they kiss. The very moment you were not waiting for.

With the way his lips so passionately intertwine with hers, it’s clear they’ve done this more than a couple of times. And not only for the sake of the film. This kind of intimacy transcends the limits of film.

You and Sam had natural chemistry, but their chemistry goes miles beyond what you instinctively had with Sam. Theirs feels experienced. Experienced with each other.

If there was any doubt lingering that they slept together that night after the haunted house, it’s all but confirmed for you now.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“When will your mom be ready to come home?” Nat asks you as the two of you are packing up the set.

You quickly look around to be sure no one’s close enough to hear, the hesitancy to let everyone know is still hanging onto you tightly.

“Actually, she’ll get to come home tomorrow," you share with her. “She was good as new when I visited her today, and the doctor said she’s making huge strides.”

Your words carry a little unsureness. It’s not that you’re not happy to have her home, the apartment has been terribly lonely and you’re ready to get things somewhat back to normal. But, you can’t get rid of this feeling that something’s just not right with the whole situation.

From the Doctor telling you there were no medications in her system to her telling you that she personally spoke with Mrs. Sweeney, thanking her for calling the ambulance, despite Mrs. Sweeney having no recollection of it and having not made the call to 911…There’s a web of uncertainty weaving in your brain. You know Nat can sense your apprehension based on the look she’s giving you as she places all the silk flowers neatly in their box.

“You don’t sound too excited,” she observes. “Are you still thinking about what the doctor told you?”

“I just can’t force myself to believe it. I know the evidence is there,” you remark, brows furrowed in confusion as you help her shove the ivy vines in the box with the flowers. “But it just…it doesn’t feel right, you know? Why would she do something like that?”

Her eyes mirror the same questions plaguing your mind, the empathy ever present in them. You know she understands your confusion, her support has been a comfort during these last few maddening days. (Though you still haven’t told her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You suppose that can wait until you’ve had enough time to process it.)

“But, I am happy that she’ll be home. It’s been so weird not having her there.” Once you get the last of the silk plants packed up, Nat takes the packing tape and adds a few pieces along the center to secure it for safekeeping.

“I’m just worried about getting her up the three flights of stairs to our place,” you continue. “The elevator went out again and she can’t really climb them on her own. And I’m not strong enough to get her up myself.” You look to her with pleading eyes, hoping she’ll pick up on your silent request for help.

“You know I would help if I could, y/n. But I’ll be out of town all day tomorrow with Danny visiting his family.” She tells you. You can tell by her tone that she feels bad, but it’s not her fault.

“Well,” she says, contemplating her options. “Maybe I could just drive myself, so that way I could leave and come help you with your mom and then go back when she’s all settled.” Her offer is undeniably kind, but you can’t bring yourself to allow her to do that. You don’t want to be the reason her whole day is disrupted.

“No, no. It’s totally okay, babe,” you acknowledge, grateful that she’d even consider such a thing. “We’ll manage. Thank you, though. I appreciate you a lot.”

Just as you’re finishing up, you hear someone shuffling around in the kitchen. Looking in that direction, you see Jake gathering a few things to prepare dinner.

“I can help you tomorrow, y/n.” He says, back turned to you and Nat. “Just let me know when.”

You and Nat share a knowing glance that says what you’re both collectively thinking.

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s offering, given how much he helped you that night and the next day. But, you still can’t help feeling shocked at his proposition.

“S-sure, Jake.” You say. “I’ll text you the time.”

But as you accept his offer, gratitude mixed with trepidation floods your thoughts. You’re suddenly mortified at what he may have heard you and Nat talking about, surrounding your unease with your mom’s situation.

How long had he been standing there?

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“So this is the famous Jake,” she remarks as you wheel her through the automatic doors to Jake, who’s standing outside his Range Rover ready to help her into the passenger’s seat. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as she makes it obvious that you’ve talked about him to her before.

Meanwhile, Jake’s lips curl in a playful grin at her statement. “Nice to finally meet you,” he says, extending a helping hand as you begin helping her out of the wheelchair and onto her feet. You try to avoid making eye contact with him as you and he position yourselves on either side of her, helping to stabilize her as she walks towards the car. But he isn’t trying to avoid it. Each accidental glance his way is met with his mischievous eyes fixed on you, his grin remaining ever present. Together, combined with what little strength she has, the three of you successfully settle her into the car without any issues.

Taking the middle seat in the second row, you buckle up as Jake starts the engine and begins the drive to your place.

You didn’t consider the fact that she would probably bombard him with personal questions, and that’s just what she does the entire way home. She asks him all the basics, probing into his background and interests with relentless questions. His answers are pretty short for the most part, not getting very personal with her curiosity. (Sounds familiar.) But it’s her next question that has you wishing you were anywhere but here.

“Are you single?” She inquires innocently. (Although it’s perhaps not very innocent, given what you’ve told her about him.)

In the reflection of the rearview mirror, you see Jake’s eyes widen, mirroring pure shock. You bring your palm up to rest against your forehead, silently wishing to teleport to your apartment and end this agonizing drive once and for all.

But when he answers, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

“I, uh, guess you could say I’m single. I’ve been dating casually, nothing serious though.”

At his mention of “casual dating,” your mind instantly begins reeling and going straight to Stacy and the possibility (likelihood) that he’s been dating her. It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you’re nothing to him, after all—but the sting of his words still linger in the air, leaving you feeling so small. Perhaps if you looked like Stacy, he’d be just as interested in “casually” dating you.

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“Would you like to stay for dinner?” She offers once the three of you make it up to the third floor of your complex. “I’m sure y/n could whip up something quick for us.” A bit of annoyance washes over you with her offering for you to make dinner for everyone. She obviously can’t, but the fact that she just decided you didn’t have anything else to do besides making dinner for three people? Maybe you’re overthinking it, but it’s not sitting right with you at the moment.

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation finally catching up with you. Or it’s your mind swirling with a million things at once. The doctor's words, Jake dating Stacy, the burgeoning voice insisting that you don’t eat. (And eating around other people right now is just far too much.)

“Thanks for asking, but I have to get back to work,” he tells her as he’s helping her in the door.

“What do you do for work, Jake?” She asks. But before he gives himself the chance to answer, he’s telling you both goodbye as he quickly heads out the door.

…okay? It’s such a simple question, why couldn’t he answer it?

While you’re standing here, confused and baffled by his actions, your mom seems to have not even noticed it as she’s now seated on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels to find one of her shows.

“When will you be ready for dinner?” She asks you, not even looking your way as you're standing dumbfounded in the middle of the living room. Trying to shove down your frustration, you take her hint that she’s ready to eat and head into the kitchen to prepare tonight's meal.

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You greet Jake with a sincere smile as you take your seat in Movacks class, only to be met with a simple nod as he looks away from you.

“Mornin, Jake!” You chirp, summoning your best “Oklahoma” intonation like he brought up the other night, hoping to coax a smile from him. But you're left feeling utterly humiliated as he doesn't even acknowledge you, opting instead to focus on his phone. It's as if you didn't say a single word, leaving you feeling like an actual imbecile for the obnoxious display you've just made. It’s rather clear he wants nothing to do with you today, his pissy mood a good indication that you should probably just keep to yourself. No need in furthering his frustrations with the annoyance that is you.

You’ve tried to ignore the fact that he’s become considerably more distant with you since he helped you bring your mom home the other day. You’ve not even heard from him since then, and given how invested he seemed to be with the whole thing, it’s almost like he’s completely left in the past at this point.

“I trust you all read the poems you were assigned with your project partner last time we met,” proclaims Dr. Movack as he walks into the room just as class is set to begin.

You and Jake were assigned Sir Lancelot and Guinevere by Alfred Tennyson, a poem that delves deeply into the forbidden affair. A bit of an unwitting irony when considering the depths of your project. He seemed out of sorts about it when you were given the poem to analyze last class period, acting as though it was a chore to have to read it. But you were excited about it, for very obvious reasons as it’s yet another layer added to your research on the character you’ve been playing.

"Alright, everyone," Dr. Movack announces, starting the timer on his phone. "For the first twenty minutes of class, I want you to pair up with your partners and discuss your individual analyses of the piece you were assigned."

With a hefty sigh, Jake pivots his upper body towards you. “Thoughts?” He asks as his hands gesture for you to begin the conversation, clearly annoyed at this whole thing. (As if it’s your fucking fault you’re his partner.)

“Well,” you start, still taken aback but his brash behavior towards you for, as far as you can tell, no logical reason. “It compares their love to that of nature, while also equating Guin’s beauty to the same thing, making it seem as tho–”

“Kay.” He abruptly cuts you off, turning himself around so he’s no longer facing you, arms crossed and a vexed look about his pretty face. Clad with his John Lennon glasses, reminding you way too much of your initial interactions with him.

“I…I wasn’t done, Jake,” you state, sternly.

“What else do you need to say?” He implores, his tone making sound more like a harsh statement than a question.

“I also need to say that its theme is a balance of pain and joy, of knowing that they can never truly have each other the way they desire, but celebrating the profound joy they do experience in their shared moments,”

“The poem constructs the idea of Lancelot tending to the needs of Guin much more tenderly and passionately than Arthur could have ever done for her,” you suggest, pushing him to give you more than what he’s been giving you thus far. (Which has been absolutely nothing.)

But… it didn’t work. You lost him. It was as if the last word out of your mouth shut him completely down. You see through the wire earpiece of his staple Ray-Bans as his eyes close. A hand slowly goes up to rub his temple.

One more shot.

“What do you think about—?”

“What the fuck did they teach you in Oklahoma?” He fumes, suddenly and unexpectedly, his head snapping in your direction.

“What?” You blink a few times, surely hearing him wrong.

“This stupid ass shit you’re spewing,” he growls, turning away from you once again. “Just shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?” Okay, you were nearly certain you had heard him correctly. And the way his mouth was set in a straight, unchanging line of ire told you as much.

“I’m so tired of this back and forth game where you think your little hick town brain can get you anywhere in a place like this,” he mumbles angrily, ripping open his journal and book to take his own notes. “It’s not cute to use what little knowledge you came here with as a point of intellect. It doesn’t work to prove anything. We all know the backwoods girl who is hiding underneath this fucking charade you’re displaying for everyone.”

Your throat constricts, growing tighter and tighter as tears wet your eyes, threatening to fall. He rakes his fingers haphazardly through his shoulder-length, waving locks. With fists clenched, nails pinching your skin where they dig into your palms, you want to grab him by his hair and force him to fully face you again.

He needs to not be a coward when he says shit that makes your heart quite actually break, crookedly down the middle. Your heart that can only take so fucking much.

He turns, just slightly. His jaw is tight, flexing beneath his frustratingly beautiful skin. How could one man encapsulate so much? One second, he’s driving you here, there, and everywhere—making you feel at ease in a time of desolation. And the next, he’s mocking you for your heritage—calling you out and chiding you for something you can’t help or control.

A state that, in this moment, you realize you’re proud to represent in some way (you grew up there, the place raised you). You’re feeling some strange, burning need to defend it.

His body is swiveled back around to fully face you when he rips his glasses off of his face. You fear momentarily of him breaking the delicate metal, but you soon forget the thought when you notice his expression.

His eyes are flaming, indignant — pure fire in the sweet honeyed bourbon hue of his irises. A fire that infiltrates something so sweet and almost pure… almost. It’s Jake, for God’s sake; he can only get so pure. The word doesn’t even come close to fitting his demeanor at this moment.

The way he looks at you, making you want to crawl completely out of your skin.

“I don’t want you to insert an opinion on this material that is founded on the bullshit they teach you in tiny towns like Cherry-fucking-Tree,” he spit. “It’s a waste of my time and energy to even entertain the ideas that circulate in your mind full of, at best, average thought processes.”

Average. Just an average, hick girl. From the shitass town of Cherry-fucking-Tree.

Average—Worthless. Just like the town you come from. How could you ever be anything coming from a place like that?

The tears begin cascading down your cheeks before you can even think to challenge them. There is no point in stopping the pools that are leaving your eyes in steady tracks down your hot cheeks. You’re shaking—shivering with equal parts twinging sadness and unkempt rage.

You let them fall momentarily, in shock as his eyes stay locked on yours, unwavering and loathsome of you. In his eyes, you watch every negative emotion he feels for you pass through them.

“Fuck you, Jake.” Your words are stern, louder than you expected. Yet, you don’t care–because your voice conveys all of the hurt you’re encompassed with.

And as you utter the cold words, you notice that the rest of the classroom is dead silent. A quick glance out of your peripheral vision confirms that all their heads are turned towards you and Jake.

But the eye contact with him doesn’t break. As much as you hate when people see you cry, you need him to see the hurt he’s caused you.

“I have heard quite enough out of the two of you!” Shouts Dr. Movack from his place at the podium. Still yet, neither one of you looks away from the other. “You both need to leave my classroom, immediately!”

“Gladly,” you shout, tossing your things in your bag with such a force that causes Jake to wince with each thing you throw in.

He begins doing the same, matching your frustration with heavy hands.

You don’t want to walk out with him, so before he can finish, you begin stomping through the classroom, brushing past Dr. Movack once you make it to the door.

“Expect zeros for today's participation!” He proclaims, but you’re already halfway down the hall.

Heavy streams of tears drench your face as you pick up the pace to get the fuck out of this godforsaken building before Jake can catch up to you.

You can’t stand the sight of him right now, you can’t even fathom ever speaking to him again. His words cut deeper than any knife ever could, of that you’re certain.

It hurts, it really fucking hurts.

“Y/n, please wait, I–I’m sorry,” you hear in the distance as you’re crossing the street to the parking lot where your car sits. “I didn’t mean—fuck.”

The sound of the voice is unmistakable.

It’s Jake’s. You can discern it from the one he wielded like a weapon, his tool of choice to dismantle and destroy you, word by hateful word.

He calls for you again, but you choose to ignore his pathetic attempt at an “apology,” jumping in your car and starting the engine, wiping the excess tears away that are constricting your vision.

You briefly look up as you shift the gear into drive, catching sight of Jake’s defeated form standing on the last concrete step of the stairway leading to the doors of Angell Hall.

And as you’re backing out of your spot, he rips his glasses off, tossing them to the ground with a force that very obviously shatters them.

You know he was probably just speaking out of pure anger, but where that anger is derived from is what you don’t understand. You’ve not done anything so bad to him to deserve any of what he just threw at you.

But no matter where it came from, he had no fucking right to speak to you the way he did.

Not finding the strength within you to turn back and go to him to hear his apology, you drive away and leave him there to deal with what he’s done alone.

While there’s a part of you that wants to hear his explanation, you don’t owe it to him to give him the chance. It’s not worth your time at this point. He’s made it known that you’re nothing but a massive pill in his life, that he would probably be much happier without you in it, ruining it with every backwoods word you speak.

He watches you as you drive away, his features as cold as if they were carved in the very stone he’s standing on, unreadable even from a distance.

Tears begin brimming in your ducts yet again as you turn onto the street to head home, him now fully out of your sight.

It's unfathomable how someone could harbor such hatred towards you, and yet, despite it all, you can't shake the intense desire you still feel for him.

It just doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t make sense.

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The squeaky wheels of the wooden library cart echo throughout the entire building with each push. The screeching metal wheels send a chill up your spine each time you move, and you’re silently apologizing to everyone in here for the obtrusive noise. With midterms officially over as of last week, everyone has been dropping their books off in piles the past few days. After sorting through them all, making sure to note who returned their books on their account, it’s finally time to put them back on the shelf.

As much as you hate the squeaky cart, this is your favorite part of the job. It gives you the chance to conduct a very detailed tour of the library on your own terms, truly allowing you to see it all. There’s no lack of discovering something new each time. You love this old building, and you love the smell of the books. The scent was the first thing you noticed when you walked in here for the first time all those months ago, and it still remains your favorite smell in the world.

As you look towards the end of the long Political Science aisle you’re standing in, you suddenly catch Nat peeking her head around the corner, waving at you while her clunky brown boots click as she walks your direction.

“Need any help? It’s dead as a doornail up there and I’m bored as hell.”

“Sure, Mr. Dickens,” you joke at her nod to a literary classic. “I’ll gladly accept your help.”

She begins helping with your task, finding a certain peace in her company amidst the quiet library.

“I can’t find where this goes, any clue?” You ask, holding up the book on the tools of presenting a good argument. She takes it from you and examines it a bit, reading the faded numbers on the spine.

“Well, I see why you’re having trouble,” she says, full smirk across her blush pink, glossy lips. “It’s marked wrong. This goes in General Law.”

With a playful wink, she gestures toward the correct section to guide you to its proper place on the shelf.

“How’s your momma?” She asks. “Is she feeling better?”

“She’s okay. She’s home, and she’s alive…it’s all just so strange.” You shelve the last of the political science books stacked on your cart, wheeling it around the corner to the General Law section as Nat follows close behind. “There’s still so many unanswered questions. I just can’t figure out who called the ambulance.”

“Wasn’t it your neighbor?” She asks, helping you maneuver the heavy cart around the tight corner.

“That’s what I thought,” you answer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you remember the strange conversation you had just days ago with Mrs. Sweeney. “But she told me she didn’t make the call. She said the ambulance just showed up. I asked her if she heard my mom calling out for help, or anything from our apartment that sounded concerning, something that would prompt an emergency call…and she said no.”

Nat matches your confused state, stopping to take in everything you’d just told her. “That just doesn’t make any sense,” she says. “Is it possible that she called for the ambulance?”

“My mom?” You hadn’t even considered the possibility. And, she would’ve told you…right? You don’t know why you’re so desperate to know, why it’s keeping you up at night that Mrs. Sweeney told you she didn’t call, that your mom had basically lied to you about the whole thing. “I–I don’t think so, Nat. She was completely unresponsive when they found her.”

Now the wheels are turning. Maybe it was her, and perhaps she just…didn’t tell you? Is she trying to hide something? It just doesn’t feel likely but…possible, you guess. It wouldn’t hurt to ask her. Putting this whole thing to rest would make it so you can finally rest.

“Well, like you said,” Nat utters, breaking you free of your relentless, turning mind. “She’s alive. And that’s all that really matters, right?”

Of course that’s all that matters. But, you can’t help the feeling that there’s more to this than what you’re able to see, more that’s being hidden beneath the seemingly cracked surface. It could just be your anxious tendencies, telling you to worry when there’s truly nothing to be worried about.

Or, your gut feeling is correct. There’s something you’re not aware of that feels big.

You begin wheeling the now empty cart back to the circulation counter to grab another lot of books, Nat leading the way ahead of the obnoxious wheels.

“Right,” you answer, deciding to push aside that worry for the time being.

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“Do you have any idea why Jake despises me? Like, has he ever said anything to you or Josh? Or Malachi?” You ask as you fill the cart with the next bundle of books to be put up.

“He doesn’t despise you, y/n. I know his exterior is rough, but there’s not an ounce of hate in that boy's heart. Just give him more time. You’ve seen it, you know he’s a good one.”

You know deep down that he is, that he’s got a good heart with good intentions. But, there’s something about when he starts to become close to you that forces him to back away, to treat you like you’re a nuisance. He can shove his hatred for you down long enough, until he can’t and it comes out of him like he was accidentally hiding it.

“He does hate me, Nat. You can’t deny the way he acts when I’m around, like I’m the biggest burden that could’ve possibly been placed upon him.” You roughly toss the final book on the cart, wincing at the loud noise it made that you didn’t quite mean to happen. “You didn’t hear the way he spoke to me the other day, Nat. He belittled me in class. I have never been so humiliated and disrespected before in my life. Pretty sure I’m nothing more than walking garbage to him.”

“I hate to interrupt your little drama fest, but you are not the biggest burden in his life. There’s a lot you don’t know about him.” She says, frustration in her tone as she intervenes, slamming a book down on the cart just like you did. “I will stick up for you, y/n. But I also know things about him that you don’t.”

“That’s the problem. I know nothing about him. He doesn’t want me to know him. He’s built this wall around himself and refuses to let me in. He almost did the other night at my apartment, but when he realized he was getting a smidge too close to me, he shut down again. He’s the never ending enigma, one that just so happens to hate my guts.” Your words hang heavy in the air, a tense silence grappling them as you’re left with the realization of just how complex your relationship with Jake is, and it’s not by your choice.

“I know he can be closed off, and I know he can be an asshole sometimes. Trust me. But you need to know a few things. He’s been through the ringer, multiple times.” She places a comforting hand on your shoulder, stopping you as you begin to walk away to put the books up, silently urging you to consider another perspective.

“He and his brothers were adopted by their grandparents after their mom and dad were killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. It left all of Frankenmuth completely devastated.”

His parents.

You’d never even once thought about where they were, or who they were. Being so caught up in your own shit, you hadn’t even considered…

Fuck.

“Their dad was in a local band,” she continues, taking a seat in the rolling chair behind the counter. “They never made it big beyond the area, but god, everyone in town loved them. And when Jake was about ten, he started playing with them. Playing the guitar his dad bought him, the one sitting in his room. He worked his ass off to buy that for Jake. They were killed only a few months after the first time he joined them on stage.”

When she mentioned his guitar, it all of a sudden reminded you of the night at your apartment. The night he became so disgusted by you right before he could finish talking about…

…about his dad. And the guitar he bought him, the very same one Nat is telling you about right now. You know this because you instantly took note of the SG sitting in his room the first night you stepped foot in there, and that’s the exact model he was talking about that night…the one he said defined him as a player, the one his dad searched high and low for.

Oh my god.

“When they died, they moved in with their grandparents. But they owned an apartment complex in Detroit, so they had to move here with them. That’s when I met them, when they started school at Central High.”

You just nod in response, needing a second to fully absorb her words that are beginning to paint a much clearer picture of Jake.

“Then, their grandma suddenly died. They were devastated, didn't come to school for weeks.” Her voice softens, her expression reflecting the weight of all the loss they had endured at such young ages. “They had to help their grandpa with the complex, learn how to run the business. Which turned out to be a good thing, because he got sick a few years later. Pancreatic cancer. The boys ended up dropping out of college for a bit to take care of him, to essentially take over acting landlords.”

“Nat I can’t…I can’t believe it. I had no idea…” Your brain is struggling to process it all. And if it’s that hard for you to imagine, it must have been hell for Jake and his brothers to live it. It was their reality. But to you, it’s utterly heartbreaking. Unfathomable.

“They never left his side, especially Jake. He was with him twenty four seven, and when he died, Jake kind of became a recluse.”

The compassion you’re feeling for Jake and his family swells your heart as you’re realizing the depths of his burdens. His guarded nature suddenly makes a lot more sense as everything she’s telling you is fully sinking in. The old saying is true; you truly never know what someone is going through, what someone has been through.

Regardless of how he’s acted towards you, you’re feeling a lot of guilt for being so quick to judge him.

“Jake was the only one with him when he died. Matter of fact, he died in the exact same hospital your mom stayed in. I bet it was kind of hard for him to be there, but he stayed for you, y/n. That is the real Jake.”

Jake was committed to you that night. Stayed with you in the hospital that holds so much weight for him. Even in the midst of his own pain, he stayed with you. It explains so much.

“What happened to the complex? After their grandpa died?”

“They live in it,” she answers with a grin. “They’re landlords. It was their inheritance. And as hard as it was for them to take over ownership as college students, they made it work. The three of them make one hell of a team.”

You didn’t know what Jake did for work, but owning an apartment complex with his brothers was not on your list of possibilities. An extremely nice complex, at that.

“Why didn’t any of them mention this to me? I get Jake but, Sam? Josh?” You can’t help the mix of surprise and confusion, wondering why they hadn’t shared such a big part of themselves with you. It’s their job. And you’ve never known anyone to keep something like that from you.

Although it does make sense if they didn’t want it to lead to a deeper conversation about their losses. Maybe they’re the same as Jake in that aspect. They just don’t like to talk about hard things.

Then, you remember how you’ve kept your life a secret from them, too. The only reason Jake knows about your mom is because he just happened to be there. But he knows nothing else. Your dad… he hasn’t and will probably never be mentioned with him. With any of them. And it’s not because you’re ashamed; it’s just not something you want broadcasted.

“They don’t care for the attention it garners,” she explains. “And they probably didn’t want you to treat them any different. The only reason I know about it is because of my brother, and he’s the one that told me everything else about what they’ve been through. They really don’t like to talk about any of this stuff,” she adds, her voice heavy with sympathy. “They don’t want it to define them.”

“I can definitely understand that.” You say with deeply rooted empathy. Your heart aches, for all of them. But, you can deny the extra twinge of softness you feel for Jake. For him to have shoved all of this down the way he has, it’s no wonder he acts the way he does. It doesn’t completely excuse it, but it sure as hell makes a lot of fucking sense.

The amount of pain they’ve experienced in their lives, losing practically everyone important in their lives. They’re not only bonded by brotherhood, they’re bonded even tighter because of everyone they’ve lost. All of them being so close to them, raising them. They’ve lost almost everyone who was ever important to them, being left with just each other to lean on. It all makes sense, and as much as he’s hurt you, you just can’t bring yourself to keep holding it against him.

He’s hurting, too.

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Carrying the third laundry basket up the stairs from the in-building laundry, you’re wondering just how two people have managed to collect so much clothing. You try to designate time each week specifically for laundry, but you’ve gotten so far behind on it that it’s become a little overwhelming. Each basket of clothes you’ve washed and brought back up to the apartment has been overflowing. You’re sure you’ll discover a missing sock or a pair of underwear or two that fell during the journey back to your place, but you’re not about to go back and find out.

You’re finally done washing everything. Now, the worst part: putting it all up. You decide to put that part off for a little while to get caught up on the rest of the chores that need to be done tonight.

The dishes are next on the list. You usually don’t mind doing them, but your dishwasher decided to quit on you and the landlord is in no hurry to come and fix it. So, you’re stuck hand washing the pile that has somehow accumulated significantly over the last few days.

With a resigned sigh, you roll up your sleeves and begin scrubbing away at the stack of plates and utensils. The warm water soothes your hands, and you find a sense of rhythm in the repetitive task.

Your mind starts to drift to the other tasks that still need to be taken care of. The vacuuming, tidying up the living room, perhaps taking out the trash if you can muster up the energy.

But for now, you decide to focus on the task at hand, finding a strange sort of comfort in the motion of washing and rinsing each dish.

Despite the annoyance of hand washing dishes, there's a strange comfort in the routine of it all. With each plate cleaned and set aside to dry, you feel a small sense of accomplishment.

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You peek around the door frame to see her lying in the same spot she has been for the last few hours, still grazing her plate of food you gave her and watching something mindless on the television. She hasn’t noticed you standing there yet, and just as you’re about to say something, you notice she’s not wearing her oxygen.

“Mom,” you assert as you storm inside of her room, the frustration in your voice apparent. You grab her nasal cannula sitting on her nightstand and help her put it on. “How long have you not been wearing it?”

She takes a deep breath as she further adjusts the tube to her face, letting out a dry cough from deep in her chest. “I’m fine, sweetie. I won’t keel over if I go without it for a little bit. It’s just so invasive, I hate wearing that damn thing.”

“That is not what the doctor said.” You check her tank to be sure she’s getting enough to compensate for however long she’s kept it off. “And based on how horrible your cough sounds, you need it right now. Please, mom. You have to follow their orders. You don’t want a repeat of the other night, do you?”

She sits herself up a bit, as well as she can. Smiling at you and nodding, she says, “I know, I know. Your momma is just a little stubborn sometimes. What would I do without my sweet daughter to take care of me?” You smile back at her, but it quickly fades as you're reminded yet again of the other night and the questionable events that transpired.

She picks up on your sudden change in expression. “Are you okay, sweetie?” She asks with wary concern.

You decide that right now is as good a time as any to ask her your burning question. With a heavy breath, you take a seat on the edge of her bed beside her. Clearing your dry throat, you say “I have to ask you something.”

“Of course, honey. What’s on your mind?” Her eyes watch you with a gentle kindness about them that you’ve always loved about her, but right now, along with the kindness there are a thousand secrets as dark as her pupils. It casts an unease in your spirit that is brand new to you, yet feels oddly familiar all at once. Has it always been there and you’ve just never noticed? Have you just denied it?

You can’t decipher why you’re so nervous to ask her. You shouldn’t be; it’s a simple question. But you feel this heaviness deep within your body that you can’t explain. An intuition that something is awry, perhaps?

You’ve never once doubted your mom. You’ve always trusted her with everything for the simple fact that she’s never given you cause not to. But you can’t deny that something feels…off. And as she’s looking at you right now, you’re suddenly not sure you recognize the woman sitting before you anymore. Something is different. Everything is different.

And you don’t know why you feel this way. But you do. And denying it further will only cause you to descend into a maddening cycle of endless wandering.

Her eyes are flicking back and forth between yours, her eyebrows are scrunched and her thin lips are slightly agape. With a curious nod of her head, she quietly signals you to just ask your damn question.

“Did…” Your tight voice cracks and as she grabs your hand to try and comfort you, you find your voice to continue. “Did you call 911 that night?” The words flow out of your mouth like a river with no end, a strong current that knocks you into the depths of the raging waters.

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls the rest of the way open. Her hand slowly moves away from yours as her eyes stay steady on you. A look of pure shock washes over her face as she’s quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“I thought we agreed on Mrs. Sweeney calling.” She finally asserts, her voice suddenly much more strong and clear than it has been in a long time, startling you. “I’m not sure why you’re still on this, y/n.” Her tone is sharp as a blade, penetrating you each time she utters a word. She’s almost defensive, angry. Her eyes are narrowed on yours, unblinking and stilled.

“I just…you’re right. I’m sorry, I must've forgotten.” You manipulate your tone to sound more sure, more accepting than you truly feel. You decided against telling her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You’ve a solid feeling it may not go over well if you tell her what was said. There’s a queasy feeling in the pit of your belly telling you to just shut up. A feeling you’ve never felt with your mom before. You’ve always known you could go to her for anything. Right now, you feel like shutting down completely.

Her gruff features soften back to the way you’re most used to them, her smile taking over her thin scowl. However, the kindness in her eyes that was mixed with secrets earlier, has shifted to the secrets taking command. You don’t know who she is right now. And you’re wondering if you’ve ever truly known.

“It’s okay, honey. I know you’re awfully busy these days. I’m so proud of you.” Her tone has gone back to its weak, hushed quality. What was once a comfort to you, now feels quite the opposite. And something about her compliment felt…forced. Like she only said it as a distraction. And her voice changing on command, like that was forced, too. As if you weren’t feeling off about this whole thing enough, this has made it ten times worse.

Before you can figure out what to say, you catch the time from her nightstand clock out of the corner of your eye. Realizing it’s well after ten o’clock, you immediately step back in your caregiver shoes. It’s over an hour past time for her to take her evening medications. You grab the three bottles sitting next to the clock, dumping one pill out of each in your hand and setting them back down, taking the half-full glass of water in your hand next.

“Take these really quick.” You say as you hand her the pills and the glass. “I’ll get you more water once you’re done.”

She nods, tossing all three pills in her mouth and downing the rest of her water before handing the glass back to you.

Standing from the edge of her bed to head to the kitchen, you tell her you’ll be right back with her water. Without a word, she just smiles your way as you walk through the door.

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It’s nearly three in the morning and you’ve still not gone to bed. With as much time as you’ve had to dedicate to your mom, the apartment upkeep, work, and filming all while attempting to maintain a rather poor excuse for a social life, school and homework have been on the very bottom of your priority list. And that is very much not like you. Your grades have suffered the last few weeks. You’re falling behind, nearing the point of no return. So, sleep isn’t much of an option right now. Hasn’t been for several nights. It’s the only time you’ve got to do something for yourself. Even something as grueling as English homework.

Tonight's task is to complete your paper on Carmilla for your Classic Horror course, but the words aren’t flowing as seamlessly as they should. As much as you want to be able to focus, you just can’t. You can only manage to get out a few sentences at a time before you have to stop and regather your train of thought. You keep checking your phone, scrolling through mindless social media, getting up to get a drink, anything that might keep you from this rather daunting task.

Your frustration with yourself is growing by the minute. You have to get this done by Monday, and you’re nowhere near finished. There’s hardly a conceivable thought typed on your word document and you don’t see yourself being able to form one anytime soon.

The ever burdening worry is all the more present after your talk with your mom. The way she acted when you asked your question, how her entire demeanor changed to one that made her unrecognizable to you…The questions are persistent, their relevance feeling more palpable than before.

As you start typing out your second paragraph, you’ve suddenly come to a realization that keeps you from continuing…

If she’s hiding that she did call for the ambulance, she would’ve had to use her cell phone. That call would still show up in her log, and although you don’t believe in invading someone's personal space, you just need to know. Odds are, she’s right. She didn’t call, and you’ll probably find absolutely nothing in her phone to indicate that she did. But at least you’ll know. And you can check it off your list of possibilities. You’ll be able to confirm that she wasn’t lying to you. (Because she wouldn’t do that…right?)

You’ve decided that checking her phone is the only way you’ll be able to put this whole thing to rest. Is it the right thing to do? Absolutely not. But you can’t focus until you know.

Her door is always left open just in case something happens, you can hear her easier. So, with a light step, you walk inside her mostly dark room. Her television is quietly playing some old Western film you know you’ve seen a dozen times, but you can’t decipher which one it is. Some desert battle with horses and weapons flashes on the screen, the light illuminating the room in eerie beams.

She’s fast asleep. Her oxygen tank is a steady hum against the low volume of the film, her breathing heavy but not labored.

Her phone rests on the nightstand closest to the wall, plugged into the charging cord. As you lift and touch the screen, you’re reminded of the fact that she keeps a six digit code to keep it locked. A code that you don’t know.

Although, you’ve got a hunch. With shaky thumbs, you type out the month, day and year of your birthday.

It worked. You’re in.

Your eyes quickly shift to her sleeping form to be sure that she is still asleep. She’s situated on her back, her head rolled over on the pillow facing you. Her eyes aren’t open, and she’s not moved since you’ve been in here. You make haste in locating her call log and scrolling all the way to the date she landed herself in the emergency room.

…and she was right.

There are no 911 calls anywhere on her log. Not even a call made to the hospital…nothing. But as you take a closer look, there is something amiss.

It was just after 1:30 in the morning when you and Jake arrived at your apartment to the chaotic scene. There’s an outgoing call that was made at 1:16…just minutes before the ambulance must have arrived. She was completely unresponsive when they found her, so how did she…? And why didn’t she call you?

The contact name is only adding to your questions. It’s a name you can’t place, and it’s an odd one.

Dodger.

Who the fuck is Dodger?

You don’t know a single person with that name…not that you can think of right away, at least.

Whoever this Dodger is, might be the person responsible for the ambulance call. If not them, then who else? And the fact that she was on the phone with them right before…

Finding out the area code might give you some clue as to who this is. If nothing else, you’ll at least have an idea of where they live. After tapping the information icon to the right, you’re shocked when you see the three digits that tell you this is an Oklahoma number.

There’s no one back home that she’s kept in touch with since the move. At least, not that you know of. She didn’t have many friends. None, actually. She spent all of her either time at home or, when your dad left, with you. Your mind is empty at trying to conjure up a single person she’d need to call from back home. You stare at the screen for a moment, trying your best to make sense of what you see before you. But you just can’t.

You need to call this number. But not with her phone, so you text yourself the contact information and delete the text from her phone so she won’t know.

And as you’re in her text messages, you decide to see if she and Dodger ever text each other. But, there’s nothing. You’re quite literally the only person she texts, making this whole thing all the more strange.

You place her phone back on the nightstand, checking on her once more before you quietly walk away. But before you do, something catches your eye. Her glass of water. It’s empty. You may as well fill it for her so she has it in case she wakes up thirsty. As you pick it up, something else catches your eye. Something far more alarming than an empty glass.

You see the pills you gave her earlier, the ones you saw her swallow down. Or, at least you thought she did. But she didn’t. The three pills you gave her are sitting behind the glass, hidden from plain out of plain view. Had you not moved the glass, you wouldn’t have seen them.

Suddenly, you’re remembering how the doctor was convinced that she hadn’t been taking them, asking you suspiciously if she had been.

And you told him yes. Of course she’d been taking them, why wouldn’t she?

You give them to her every night. You watch her take them every night. But if you thought she took them tonight when she actually didn’t, does that mean…that she never takes them?

You can't bring yourself to believe that. You don’t even want to believe it. There’s an explanation. Has to be.

She wouldn’t do that to herself, to you as her number one caregiver. She’s told you time and time again that she wants you to live your life for you, not for her. She’s said that she hates relying on you, but loves that she can.

No, she wouldn’t do that. She would know to take her medications, because they make her better. And she wants to get better. For her and for you, like she’s said since she got sick in the first place.

But it doesn’t explain…

…she really hasn’t been taking her pills.

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The cold, wet hair hitting your back makes you shiver before you wrap it up in a towel, taking the matching one to wrap up your soaking wet body. You decided to take an ‘everything’ shower before filming tonight, completing all of your deep conditions and skin scrubs. This is the most refreshed you’ve felt in weeks.

Tonight will be your last intimate scene with Sam, black lace dress included. And also your first with Jake. This will be the first time you’ll share the screen with him as your fictional ‘husband and wife’ characters. But there will be no loving sentiment between them on the screen.

No. Tonight, Arthur will catch Guinevere in the middle of the act with her beloved Lancelot, his closest companion and best comrade. It’s going to be one of the most intense scenes within the entire project.

According to what Josh has written in the script, Arthur will walk in on Guinevere and Lancelot making love, thus beginning the downfall of his reign due to his all consuming desires to get rid of Lancelot.

Something else Josh wrote into the script is that Arthur and Lancelot have quite the heated argument over who is more deserving of their precious Guin. All the while, she is laid out on Lancelot's bed, clad in her most scandalous attire in front of both men whose need for her will end their relationship in one of the worst ways imaginable. Arthur will take one look at his wife, her body nearly on full display before them both, the most intimate gift that she’s offered his once closest confidant. He will then immediately order the death of Sir Lancelot for treason as he has committed one of the most heinous crimes against the king.

Lancelot won’t argue, as he believes his time with Guinevere, however short, is enough to sustain him, even in death. She was worth it, she is worth it. And he will force Arthur to look upon her and realize the treasure in her that he has taken for granted. He will beg the king to at last show her the love she deserves once he is gone and no longer can.

Suffice to say, tonight's scene is a big one. It serves as a catalyst for a lot of significant plot points. And you’re hoping that everything you’ve learned about acting thus far will suffice for the heaviness expected from you and your fellow actors. The hard part about this scene for you is the lack of dialogue. Once Arthur becomes privy to the affair between the two, Guinevere stays silent for the most part save for a few lines. Meaning you’ll be relying heavily on your body to convey her every emotion and thought, which you’ve found to be far more challenging than speaking a few lines with a manipulated voice.

Manipulating your body without a single word is a different thing altogether. To be able to convey emotions without speaking is something you’re not the most confident in, on and off the screen.

But something happens to you once you put your costume on. You become someone else, someone you’ve always wished you could be. And with Jake being present, you’re sure you’ll have a little added inspiration. But that means you’ll be trying a little harder to look nice for tonight's filming session. Hence the ‘everything’ shower that felt like it took literal ages to complete, but felt so incredibly wonderful. (And also felt rather necessary.)

With your body now only a little damp, you remove your towel to start lathering yourself up in your favorite body lotion, fragrant with notes of wild lavender and chamomile, then taking your frenshe body oil in vanilla cashmere and massaging it all over your skin, focusing a little more on your neck and chest, even adding a little to inner thighs. These scents make for the perfect, seductive aroma, and your skin feels so soft, so alluring. Perfect for tonight.

Normally, you’d shy away from looking at yourself in the mirror, especially your nude form. Yet here you are, scrutinizing your reflection, noting each and every tiny thing that you wish you could alter. The years that you’ve spent hiding…years.

It’s hard to look at your body when it’s not covered by the sweaters that are two sizes too big. You’re forced to accept your body, to accept the things you hate that you’ve felt the need to cover with a security blanket ever since you were a child.

You stand to the side to see just how much your tummy is pooched from the apple cinnamon oatmeal you ate this morning. It could all be in your head, but you’re almost sure you can see the bloat from your tiny meal. You turn around completely, looking back for the crinkles of cellulite that you know are present in your ass.

They’re there. Just as you suspected. You’re sure no model. No perfect ‘beauty queen’...

…no Stacy.

Fuck. How could anyone find you attractive when you’re so mortified by your own reflection?

The voice in your head is loud and overpowering. It’s screaming louder than the voice that talked to you through recovery.

You’re in such a strange place.

While your confidence in yourself has arguably never been higher, the urge to relapse has grown right along with it. Maybe it’s because you’ve suddenly found a version of yourself that you can appreciate. A version of yourself that you’ve always longed for. But she can’t be found in your real life.

No. She only makes her appearance when you’re pretending to be someone else. She isn’t you.

She lives within you, but she isn’t you.

You grab the towel and quickly cover yourself back up with it, not wanting to spiral even deeper into your insecurities when you’re supposed to be playing a confident, beautiful queen in a few hours.

You’ll be fine once you put the dress on, you tell yourself. Please, please don’t do this. Not right now.

You know shoving down the thoughts, ignoring them with a temporary fix, isn’t the answer. But you can’t deal with it right now. You don’t have time. You don’t have the mental space for it.

You’ll deal with it later. It can wait.

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Josh’s room is the set tonight, and it looks incredible. The bed is adorned with a white satin duvet, with red and white rose petals scattered all over. This is your throne for the night, where you’ll be lying for the entire duration of the scene.

Josh’s walls are painted white, but he and Malachi have worked pure magic with the lighting that has given them a dark red hue. You thought they had actually painted them when you walked in, but Josh showed you the lights, the “wonders of cinematic sorcery,” as he called it. It looks like a brand new room, it looks so good.

Jake was right when he told you his brother is one hell of a director. Everything he does feels professional. You just know you’ll see Josh’s name alongside the likes of Tarantino and Scorsese someday. His talent and eye for putting together the best scenes will get him far. And Malachi will be right alongside him, designing the perfect costumes for Josh’s films. A dynamic duo, those two.

But if you’re honest with yourself, the beauty and eroticism of the set has you even more nervous for this scene. You just hope that you can do this set justice and not fuck it all up. It deserves some of the best acting you can offer Josh. You don’t want to let him down with your insecurities that have been weighing so heavily all day.

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“I still can’t believe it,” Nat says as you’ve just finished applying the final layer of Ben Nye to your secret ink. (You still can’t get over the fact that Sam now knows about it. Not what you wanted, but there’s nothing you can do now. It’s done. It just feels strange that something so personal is now not as personal as you intended for it to be.)

As you dab a little finishing powder over the foundation, you turn your head over your shoulder to Natalia, who’s sitting crisscrossed in the center of Jake’s bed. “Believe what?” you ask her, snorting a chuckle.

“Your sexy little tattoo, that’s what.” Her beautiful face wears that contagious smile of hers, her right eye throwing you a sly wink. “I would’ve never suspected it when I met you. You’re just full of secrets, aren’t you?”

You have no idea.

“Guess you could say that.” You huff a giggle while you secure all of Josh’s makeup back in his bag. Still to this day, he’s yet to ask you what it’s for. Odds are, he thinks you just need a little extra coverage for your face. It doesn’t seem he suspects a thing. (You’re just hoping Sam keeps his mouth shut about this unrevealed aspect of yourself.)

“Do you think you’ll ever get anymore?” She questions as she’s handing you your gown.

“Thank you, babe,” you tell her, taking the garment bag from her. “And I don’t know, I’ve not really put too much thought into it.” She helps you secure the hook and eye in the back of the dress, holding your hair over your shoulder so it’s not in her way. “I was pretty drunk when I got this one. But I do love it. So, maybe. It makes me feel mysterious, you know?”

With the dress fastened, you stand in front of the mirror and adjust a few things. The thing you’re always the most concerned about with this costume is the chest area, naturally. If you situate the lace just right over your breasts, there’s not quite a full view of your intimate area. But there’s still enough to add a little sensuality to it.

“Damn, y/n.” Nat says, her eyes trailing your chest as you get yourself adjusted just the way you like.

“What?” You say through a giggle.

“Oh, nothing,” she says. You can see her devious grin in her reflection of the mirror in front of you as she’s pulling your hair off your shoulder, smoothing out the kinks. “Just that Danny’s lucky he snatched me up when did.” Her golden eyes lock with your reflection as she winks and chuckles. “You’re just too gorgeous, girl.”

You playfully roll your eyes as you both break out in a fit of giggles. (You wish everyone saw you that way. Jake, mostly.) With a final onceover of your liquid lipstick, blotting your lips and cleaning up the edges, you feel you’re about as ready as you can be for tonight's scene.

“Well, he better watch his back,” you say, opening Jake’s door and walking through the threshold, Nat following close behind. “I could still steal you away.” More laughter sounds from you two as you head down the hallway, walking past the living room and up the staircase to the loft.

Danny is waiting at the top of the stairs, and when Nat makes it up to him, his toned arms wrap her in a full hug. “What are you two laughing about?” He asks, planting a sweet kiss to her temple.

Neither one of you says a word as you throw a silent wink towards Nat, letting the laughter bubbling within you both burst through yet again.

“What?” He insists.

Without an explanation, the two of you lock arms and proceed to the film set, leaving him still asking what the commotion is all about, but letting him sit in his wonder while you walk away together.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“You ready for this?” Sam whispers to you, his face mere inches from yours. With you splayed out on your back, and he perched on his side right next to you, arm draped across your body, you’re positioned just the way Josh had in mind for the beginning of the shoot.

His smile, infectious and beautiful as always, warms your soul (and your body) and has you feeling very much at ease as you mentally prepare for this scene. You haven’t filmed with him in a while, and you’ve been so busy with the utter shitshow your life has been lately that you’ve just not been able to see him much. Feeling him this close to you again after all this time, you’d hate to admit just how nice it feels.

It feels really fucking nice. You hadn’t realized how bad you missed it, how bad you missed him.

“I think so,” you mutter, smiling at him while he looks at you with heavy, lust filled eyes. “But, are you ready?”

He brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it lovingly behind your ear with a peculiar smirk across his lips. You can’t see Jake, but you can hear the prolonged sigh from his lips as he’s positioned just outside the bedroom door, awaiting his cue to barge in on the two of you.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he confirms, sending off his words with a wink before he shifts his attention to your director.. “I think we’re good to go, Josh!”

Josh confirms with a nod of his head, gesturing a thumbs up to Malachi to dim the overhead lighting and giving Danny the “okay” to shine a little spotlight on the bed you’re on.

“Scene 73, take one.” He doesn’t yet have a cue card, so with (a rather loud) clap of his hands, he yells, “ACTION!”

As soon as the scene begins, you’re fully encompassed by your alter, the ever sought after Queen Quiniverre. Every insecurity, every doubt, all but washes away once Josh says the word. You’re not you anymore; you feel as though everything you hate about yourself doesn’t exist within this realm. You’re not you, and Guinevere would never be insecure about the things that you are.

And that’s exactly what inspires you to be the best Guinevere that you can be. You wish, more than anything, that you had her confidence. But even if you don’t have it, she does. And at least you can know what it’s like, even if the moments are short.

Once Sam says his few words of dialogue, he leans in to envelop you in a passionate kiss full of burning desire. Bodies tangled, hands searching one another; a moment of pure ecstasy shared between two secret lovers, bound together by a love so deceitful to the King.

And then, you hear him. He walks through the threshold with heavy feet, his breathing stern and labored.

“I thought I knew better than to heed Mordred's vile words of my first in command. And yet, I find that I needn’t worry of his lies, only those of my beloved and her dearest, both of whom betray their King.”

He unsheathes his sword, a motion to take Lancelot for himself. To battle to the death for their prize who lie in the bed before them.

…his voice.

It echoes throughout the entire room, the entire apartment. The anger he’s displaying is being pulled from somewhere deep within him, exhibiting itself through the King as he’s finally privy to his wife's infidelity. The volume nearly startles you from your position on the bed. You didn’t expect such vibrancy from him, such passion to be exuded through him. He’s speaking his dialogue perfectly, acting through it as though he’s done it a hundred times over. He’s still using his accent, but it’s believable this time. It’s coming through much more powerful than the last time you heard it.

“My once most trusted comrade, you must die at my hands for treason. The highest crime against your king, to lay with his precious Guinevere, deserves no less than a death of the highest order.”

His accent, where it was once convincing and accurate, has now begun to falter under the pressure of the scene. He’s beginning to sound less like the betrayed king, and more like an pissed off Jake.

He continues to hold his sword out firm, glaring at Lancelot with a fiery anger from the depths of his soul, until he shifts them to you. The same anger geared towards you, only it doesn’t feel as though it’s Arthur looking at Guinevere, it’s more like Jake looking at you. And the extent of it is making you more uncomfortable as the seconds (that feel more like hours) are passing without a word from either of them.

It’s supposed to be Sam’s turn to speak, but it’s likely that he’s caught on to the tension pouring from Jake, and the tensions that lie in the space between you and him.

“Sam!” Jake screams, causing you to jolt from the sheer volume. “Say your fucking line so we can get this over with and I can get the fuck away from all of you!”

“Woah, woah,” Josh interjects, motioning for Malachi to turn the lights back on as he cuts the camera. “What the fuck, Jake? What’s your problem?”

Jake tosses his sword to the floor, taking off his cloak and throwing it towards Josh who hardly has enough warning to catch it. “This, Josh. This is my fucking problem!” Jake fumes, gesturing his flexed arms towards you and Sam as you’re both struck silent by his sudden outburst. “I can’t perform with this, I won’t.”

You look to Sam as he blinks a few times, as if suddenly being pulled out of his state of utter shock at his brother's actions. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sam challenges, getting up from his position and leaving you there by yourself.

Danny grabs Nat’s arm to take her out of the room, and she’s waving for you to join her. But you don’t want to leave, not yet. You don’t normally stick around for a full blown, Kiszka fight. But you have to hear what Jake is going to say for yourself.

“It means, Sam, that I can’t stand working with you,” he looks to you, still on the bed but now in an upright position as you watch the scene unfold before you. “Or her.”

What the fuck–?

Josh is pleading with him to calm down, but he won’t have it. He brushes him off when his twin offers a comforting hand to his arm.

“Fuck this goddamn film and fuck every single one of you that has anything to do with it! It’s fucking bullshit. I’m sorry, Josh. I’m fucking done.”

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You can’t take it any longer. You storm out after him, heedless of everyone else, ignoring their presence and pushing your way through to reach him.

He slams his door but you waste no time in opening it immediately after, refusing to let him shut you or anyone else out after such a blow-up.

There’s not much light in his room, save for the lamp in the corner shining a warm hue on the space. The calming aura of his room means nothing in comparison to the tensions between you two— the ever growing tensions that now feel sharper than any blade.

He stands facing his bed, his back turned to you. As soon as you enter the room and shut the door behind you, he quickly turns on his heel to face you. And he does not look pleased, his features etched with irritation. But you continue to stand your ground, not willing to budge anytime soon.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” He growls, deep enough for your bones to feel it. His cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat accumulated between his knitted brows. That familiar flare of his nostrils makes an appearance and his lips are pursed in a tight scowl.

Normally, you’d cower down to anyone who’d find it in themselves to speak to you this way. You’d hide yourself, hide your feelings, stay quiet and out of the way. Give into them to keep the peace. But right now, fuck keeping the goddamn peace. You’ve kept it for far too long at this point and you’re done allowing yourself to be invisible any longer.

“My clothes are in here and I need to change since you selfishly decided that filming is over for the night,” you simper back, your volume challenging his. “And I’m also here to figure out what the fuck your problem with me is!”

His furious stare is penetrating your very soul, his eyes the darkest you’ve yet to see them. His fists are clenched and his biceps are bulging so much you’re just waiting for the chainmail sleeves to give way.

But you’ve never seen him look better.

“Problem?” He begins closing the short distance between you, practically stomping across the carpeted floor, flailing his arms about as he speaks. “What the fuck are you talking about?” The heat behind his tone grows stronger and stronger, his gaze on you darkening by the second.

You refuse to break eye contact while you snicker and shake your head at him playing stupid with you. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. But he’s clearly choosing to play dumb with you, acting like he hasn’t put you on a fucking roller coaster with him since the day he was shoved into your already messy life. If he wants to keep playing games with you, then you have no problem playing your own against him.

You’re still in your revealing attire, your breasts nearly on full display, the entirety of your form leaving next to nothing to the imagination— to Jake's imagination. You’re privy to his numerous glances at your breasts. You won’t pretend you’re not, and you can’t hold back the satisfied, devious curl of your lips each time you catch his gaze. You should find the urge to cover up, to hide yourself or wait until you can change to confront him.

But that’s not what you intend to do. Wearing this dress brings out a part of you that you’ve come to cherish— it cloaks you in a confident aura that you’ve lacked all your life. And as much as he tries to pretend it means nothing to him, you know the effect this dress has on him. You’ve seen it firsthand for yourself. He can try to hide it all he wants, but you and him both know what it did to him the first time he saw you wearing it in this very room. You may as well use that to your advantage right now.

You feel powerful, in control. Those doubtful thoughts you were having earlier tonight about yourself have lowered their volume nearly to a full mute. If he can’t handle talking to you like this, then he can’t handle you.

“You’re fine with me one minute,” you huff a snarky giggle, standing firm and refusing to bring your arms up to cover yourself, even with his continuous gazing.“Then you act like you can’t stand my very existence the next. I’m just fucking confused, Jake. If you hate me so goddamn much, why don’t you ask me to leave? You don’t need me to do this fucking film. Why don’t you find some other unsuspecting girl and rid yourself of me once and for all?”

With as much of yourself as you’ve invested in this film, and the new found sense of self-assurance being in front of Josh’s camera has given you, you don’t want to quit this project. If walking away was truly what you wanted, you would have done so a long time ago. And deep down, you want to believe that if Jake truly wanted you to leave, he would’ve demanded it already. But right now, all you can think about is that conversation you overheard weeks ago.

“I only asked her because I had to…I was not about to work on something alone with her.”

It’s something you’ve not let yourself forget. Even after everything he’s done for you— helping you with your mom, staying the night with you when it felt like your world was crumbling— none of it seems to matter because of his words that linger in your mind like a never ending echo. He wouldn’t have said them if he didn’t feel them. That much, you’re certain of.

And after what he said to you in class…it was a harsh reality that you weren’t ready to face. He validated your deepest fears of not belonging, of not being accepted. Every hurtful thing he’s ever said about you, each cutting remark he’s said to you are repeating relentlessly in your head.

“I don’t hate you, y/n!” He shouts through gritted teeth. He takes a few steps towards you, leaving only inches of space between your bodies. His eyes are still fixed in their vexed glare, yet there’s something different behind their darkened gaze. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then…” Your voice is shaky as you try to raise it. You have to look up at him to see his face, he is so close to you. Your trembling body begins fighting against your accusatory words. “Then why did you say you only asked me because you had to? That you didn’t want to work on something alone with me?” Of everything he’s ever done to you, those words hurt the most.

“Because I can’t…” He throws his arms up in frustration, shaking his head as he looks away from you. “...I can’t trust myself to be alone with you. And I can’t fucking stand it when—” He stops himself before he can continue, his index and thumb tightly gripping his chin, almost and if to physically stop himself.

“You can’t stand what, Jake?” Your anger surges, overpowering everything else. Your vision blurs and your limbs are tingling with pure rage. “What the fuck do I do that you can’t stand so badly?”

He snaps his head towards you, his loose waves, making a luscious display around his handsome face. “I can’t stand seeing you with him.” He points to the photo on his dresser, the one of him and his brothers. The one with Sam. “You think it’s fucking easy for me to see you with him like that? Especially knowing what happened between you two the night we all went to the stupid fucking haunted house.”

Now you’re pissed. Not only is his reasoning ridiculous, he’s also accusing you of something that didn’t happen. This isn’t your fault. None of this is. And for him to treat you like shit because of that?

“You don’t know shit, Jake!” Your voice rises to a near scream, letting go of any pretense of holding back. “Nothing happened that night, and even if it had, why the hell do you care? What makes you think you have any right to be pissed about anything that I do? I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you; this is your fault! So your reasoning is, frankly, complete bullshit. And I’m not buying any of it.” You’re yelling so loudly your voice is cracking and breaking, your words reverberating with raw, pissed off emotion. No one has ever provoked you to this level of anger. No one except your dad, when he decided out of the fucking blue to leave you. You hate that he’s brought out this side of you. “You act like that because you can’t stand the very thought of me,” you continue. “Just tell me you want nothing more to do with me and I’ll walk right out that door. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He stands still for a while, silently staring at the floor. He brings his hand up to rub his chin, something you’ve seen him do a hundred times, when his mind is racing about something. Josh almost always points it out. He does it a lot during filming, during your scenes with Sam. Especially during the ones when you’re wearing the very outfit you’re standing before him in right now.

Then, he takes two more steps, until he’s close enough to you that you can feel his heaving breaths against your already heated skin. His demeanor has changed. He doesn’t seem angry anymore. The way he’s looking down at you…he now seems desperate.

“I can’t stand the way he looks at you…the way you look at him,” he whispers, his eyes traveling the curve of your breasts as his lungs deflate letting out a deep sigh. His eyelids have become heavy over his whiskey colored eyes that flick back to yours. “I can’t stand it…because I wish it were me.” His voice, once harsh and furious, is now a deep, hushed whisper. It’s low, gravelly in pitch.

It’s fucking sexy. But you’re still not convinced. You need more. You’re sick of thinking he likes you for a split second, then pulling himself away when he feels you’re getting too close.

No. Not this time. If he pulls away again, you’re done. Out the door. Gone from his life and free to live yours without him and this film. You’ll take a failing grade if it means you don’t have to go through this anymore.

“I don’t believe you, Jake.” Your words are stern, but your body language begins deceiving your cold statement. You’re trembling, vibrating through to your very core. No matter how pissed you are, you can’t fight this incessant attraction you’ve felt for him for a long time now. You fought fiercely in the beginning, had completely convinced yourself that he was nothing more than a handsome jerk who harbored feelings of distaste towards you.

But fuck. That made you want him more. His mystery, his demeanor. The kindness that seeped through every now and again. Nat was right; you’d always known it was there. His genuine heart is sometimes too strong to stay masked behind this rough act he's tried to uphold. It's broken before you enough times to know that it’s there. And maybe it’s because of you that it's breaking more and more. His guard is falling. That’s why you’re so fucking pissed that he’s fighting every second to keep it up. And what you just said…it's not that you don’t believe him. A big part of you does. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he was completely dumbfounded the first time he saw you in this lace dress. The way he seethes when you’re with Sam. On camera or not.

But right now, you need to fucking see it. To see that side of him that you know is buried within. It’s not enough to simply hear his words; you need him to prove it to you. You’re tired of the back and forth with him. This is his opportunity to show you what ever the fuck it is that he wants from you.

There’s a look of confliction as his hand reaches out to you tentatively, his fingers playing with the lace on your shoulder. They move, hovering just inches over your collar bone before his fingertips delicately skate over the skin with such a gentle, intentional touch. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding as you feel the warmth of his touch.

“I’ve wanted to touch you…” His fingers follow the curve of your neck, passing over your pulse point, tracing a path along the curve of your jawline. “...just like this since the day I fucking laid eyes on you. And seeing my brother get to do it…” Your bottom lip is lightly tugged by the pad of his thumb, smearing the dark lipstick. “...it eats me up inside, y/n. I don’t think I can watch him kiss these lips one more time.” His focus is now entirely fixed on your lips, as his tongue gracefully glides over his own. Your craving for him intensifies with every passing moment. Each second fuels the fiery need within you.

“Then…why don’t you just do it?” The words fall straight from your mouth before you can even think twice about saying them, hanging in the air that’s slowly shifting from an angry tension to a much different kind. Your eyes lock yet again, each of you silently pleading with the other to bridge this divide between you once and for all.

With one hand still caressing your face and finding the small of your back, he pulls you flush against him, holding you tight against his warm body. He leans in, his lips brushing over yours, a feather-light caress that steals your breath.

And as if you’re pulled together by an invisible tether, your lips finally meet.

It starts slow, almost hesitant. But the intensity begins growing as your emotions are spilling over, fueling the kiss with a passion that is closer to desperation. His hand finds your hair, tangling your soft locks as he pulls you even closer, deepening your embrace with a hunger born of a longing that’s finally being set free.

You can feel his walls crumbling before you, letting break through his barrier. The insurmountable distance that was created between you, not only physically but emotionally, has at last been closed.

His tongue glides across your teeth, drawing your bottom lip firmly between his. He serenades your mouth with the most beautiful melody, eliciting a yearning that forces your thighs to come together in an attempt to soothe the desire pulsing between them.

He tastes like the sweetest honey infused bourbon. His lips are soft, putting the most sumptuous velvet to shame.

The hand resting on your back glides upward along your torso, stopping just before he reaches your heaving breast. His lips break from yours before he tugs on the hair at the nape of your neck, fully exposing the expanse to him.

“Jake…” You start, but he’s already so attuned to your desires that you don’t have to say another word before his mouth meets your taut skin. His tongue traces along your neck, stopping to suckle the skin. A strained moan sounds from deep within you, eliciting a sensual snicker, reveling in the response he’s drawing from you.

“You smell so good,” he mumbles against you, sealing his compliment with a kiss. As if you’re not falling apart enough, you nearly melt into him when his hand finally caresses over your full breast. “This okay? Can I touch you here?” He whispers softly in the shell of your ear, his words both a question and a promise of his respect for you.

“Please, Jake, more” you whimper through heaving breaths.

He groans deeply against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he teases your hardened nipple through the flimsy lace. You practically cry out for him, your body squirming with anticipation, begging him for more. He shushes you gently. “I’ve only just begun,” he whispers, his index finger tracing slow circles over your sensitive bud. “Let me take my time with you.”

He pinches your nipple, playful smirk gracing his lips as he chases the sounds escaping your parted mouth.

You clutch his biceps tight, anchoring him to you to keep him from slipping away. He hisses as your nails dig into his skin, only igniting his desire for you.

“Do you believe me yet?” He whispers, his lips grazing your jawline.

While there’s not an ounce of lingering suspicion within you, you dare to toy with him a little further.

“Nuh uh, not yet.” You respond quietly, your body betraying you as your desire is displayed physically. He can sense it, and the mischievous grin curved on his lips assures you he’s privy to your little game.

“Feel how much I want you.” And with that, his hand takes yours, guiding it to his pulsing cock that’s straining against his black pants, imploring you to feel the undeniable need he has for you.

He throbs beneath your touch as you palm him through the satin fabric that still conceals him, keeping in time with your own racing heart. His breath hitches, he whimpers beautifully in your ear as you continue to feel him, and if it were even possible, he’s becoming even harder against your touch, desperate to remove the confines of his pants.

“Holy fuck, Jake…”

Your legs press together once more at the feeling of him, his sheer size and thickness that is obvious even through the barrier between you. All you can think about is how he’d feel nestled away deep inside of you, filling you with every inch. He’s massive, that much you can tell, even through the barrier.

“Yeah?” He hums through heavy breaths. “That’s all for you, love.”

His words have your arousal nearly dripping down your thighs, your body growing more impatient by the second.

“Lay down for me,” he mutters in your ear. “Just like you were for the scene. Only this time, for me.”

His words, almost possessive in their wake, leave you speechless and craving him even more. He lightly motions you in the direction of his bed, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

Once you lie down, just as you did just moments ago, he positions himself at the end of the bed while he looks at you, taking in the vision before him.

Normally, you wouldn’t have half the confidence for a moment such as this, and it’s for that very reason you’re glad you’re in this very dress. It’s been the source of most confident moments as of late; it only makes sense that you’re wearing it in real life with Jake.

As he begins to remove his chainmail top, you tremble at seeing him so bare. You’d seen it before, but not like this. This time, he’s taking it off for you, removing yet another barrier that exists between the two of you.

You’re breathless at the sight of him. His pecs, sculpted and chiseled, rising and falling with his deep breaths. The smooth expanse of his unflawed skin, begging to be touched and explored. And his broad, sturdy shoulders that beckon you to sink your nails into, to keep a tight grip against while he’s on top of you.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his eyes tracing every curve of your body as he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you as though he’s not done looking at you just yet. “You’re a fucking queen,” he whispers, his voice husky and filled with desire. Finally, he leans in, his lips meeting yours with a tender gentleness, leaving you yearning for more as he lifts away again just slightly. “A beautiful queen.”

He kisses you once again, this time hungrier than the last. His hands roam your body with a newfound intensity, each touch igniting a fire within you that leaves your body arching towards him, begging for more. More of him.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of kisses along your skin as his body slowly lowers down yours. You suck in a deep gasp as his warm, wet tongue follows a slow trail from your belly button, gliding all the way up to your chest, tracing along the curve of your breast.

His lips suck a mark right where his tongue stops, leaving a bruise right where the fabric ends along your chest.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against the bruise his lips left on your taut skin, marveling at his work. “All marked up from me. Want to mark you up everywhere…”

His focus seems deliberate, as if he’s determined to leave his mark where it will be most visible during your scenes, his attention fixed solely on the skin peeking out amidst the black lace.

“This…will be hard to cover up for filming, Jake…” you utter, breathless from your purely aroused state.

“No,” he whispers between leaving his mark right in the middle of your breasts. “Don’t cover them. Let them see.”

Before you can continue your weak protest, he carefully pushes back the lace over your left breast, fully unveiling it before him. He shushes you as his lips instantly attach to your perked nipple, sucking it deep within his mouth, softly nibbling at it all while his hand removes the lace from your right breast, kneading the flesh between his fingers.

But as he does so, you feel your body begin to tense when you discover his fingers are all over the area covered with makeup. The area with your tattoo. It feels too fucking good to make him stop, but that same feeling that overcame you when Sam unsuspectingly saw it is blazing within you.

Once you shift your eyes to his hand, you notice the makeup smeared almost completely, the red ink bleeding through to present itself, even if you aren’t ready for it to.

“Jake I…”

But it’s too late. As he lifts to switch his attention to your right breast, he sees it. His eyes are fixed on your etched secret, mouth lazily agape at this small piece of you he’s discovering for the first time.

“H…holy fuck,” he stammers, leaning in to peck his lips against the word along the tender spot. “This is so sexy I just…” he brings up his finger, tracing the “R”, then the “E”, the “D”

“Do you like it?” you ask him, feeling a rush of confidence wash over you.

Your initial hesitation has all but vanished. It's so different with Jake…something about the way he makes you feel, the way he brings out this part of you that no one else does. Not even Sam.

“I love this, y/n,” his lips meet the ink once more, decorating it with wet kisses.

“I…I’ve always been so scared for people to see…” Your words would hardly be legible if he wasn’t so close to you. Your mumbled tone is evidence of how he’s affecting you, what he’s doing to you. “... and it’s not exactly accurate for the film,” you mutter through a weak chuckle.

“Does anyone else know?” he quietly implores. “Does Sam know?”

“No.”

The word flies out of you before you can even take a second to think about it. It’s a lie. Sam does know. But that doesn’t matter to you right now. And Jake doesn’t need to know of what you almost did with his brother in a shitty attempt to get to him.

“Only Natalia knows.”

“Good,” he mumbles between leaving more kisses along your breast, slowly creeping closer towards your erect nipple.“Let’s keep it that way.”

His tongue lightly flicks the sensitive bud, drawing languid circles around it while his fingers follow the same motion of the other breast.

With the way his body is positioned between your legs, you can’t close your thighs together to ease the ache between them. It doesn’t stop you from trying, though, and when he notices, he grins against your supple flesh, looking up at you to see your completely fucked out state. He understands what you need without a word, and he begins to shift his body even further down your own, keeping your legs spread and his mouth trailing down your flesh, until his face is nearly level with your throbbing core.

The slit in your dress proves to be quite convenient at the moment, enabling your legs to spread easily while the only coverage you have is from the thong that perfectly matches your skin tone.

As his lips brush against your inner thigh, his warm breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, you find yourself instinctively arching your hips closer to him, craving whatever pleasure he can offer.

“You smell so fucking good, love,” he mutters.

You’re silently praising yourself for thinking to add your body oil to your thighs, not realizing you were doing it for Jake.

He’s not done marking you up just yet, as he sucks long and deep on the flesh of your inner thigh, eliciting a high pitched moan from deep within your being, your hand quickly flying up to stifle your sounds.

“This one is just for me,” he mumbles against the bruise, tracing it delicately with the tip of his finger. “And only for me.”

“Jake, please…I need more,” you cry out, your voice trembling with desperation as he stares deeply into your heavy, longing eyes.

“What do you need, beautiful?” He probes, peppering your thigh with gentle kisses, following a slow path towards where you crave his lips the most.

“Jake…”

“Tell me what you need,” he says in a hushed voice, his lips trailing a delicate kiss just above your throbbing clit. “Just tell me and I’ll do everything in my power. It’s the least I can do for you…please, let me make everything up to you.”

“Jake I don’t care anymore I just—” you reach down to brush a loose strand out of his face, fingers grazing over his sharp jawline as he leans in, leaving a sweet kiss in the middle of your palm. “I just need you.”

A devious, sinful smirk graces lips as his attention diverts to your aching heat.

With his index finger, he traces the wetness you’ve left on the fabric of your panties, drawing slow and lazy circles over your clothed clit.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, his blown pupils dark with need as his question almost sounds as though he’s begging. “Want to see you, all pretty and wet for me.”

“It’s all for you, Jake.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. His hands, strong and firm, reach up to your hips, tugging at the sides of your thong as you lift yourself to help him pull it down your thighs. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He helps you lift your right leg out, then your left leg, placing your panties on the edge of the bed once they’re finally off of you.

Out of everyone you’ve ever been with, no one has ever taken this much time with you. Not once has anyone asked what you need, what you want. It's a side of Jake you never expected to see. In a thousand years, you wouldn't have imagined him being this attentive, this caring toward you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he hums, his eyes longing fixed on your dripping core. “Every single part of you, just perfect.”

You instinctively jolt once his lips attach to your already sensitive clit, sucking it gently, his warm tongue swirling around it. With a tender touch, he holds your hips down in place, keeping you still for him as he explores you.

“Jake, oh my god, plea–”

He cuts off your words with a long glide of his tongue from you leaking entrance to your aching clit, sealing with a deep kiss to your throbbing bud, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

With his middle finger, he prods your entrance before slowly pushing it all the way in, finally filling you as you clench hard around his long digit. His grip on your hips does little to restrain you; you find yourself grinding against him, yearning for more of his touch. His tongue dances over your clit while his finger delves deeper into you, setting an delicious rhythm that has you craving more.

Then, he adds a second finger, filling and stretching you around him even more. His thrusts quicken, driving you closer to the edge with each brush of his fingers inside of you.

Your hands instinctively find his soft locks, fingers entwining in the strands and tugging. A low moan escapes him, sending vibrations against your core.

“Just like that, Jake, just like tha–”

But just as you're nearing your peak, there’s a sudden knock at the door that causes Jake’s fingers to still their movement, keeping them inside of you as he lifts his face that’s now glistening from your dripping arousal.

“Jake? Are you and y/n okay?” It’s Josh. He sounds concerned, distressed. It’s sweet, although his timing is…awful. “You’ve been in there for a while…we’re just worried about you guys.”

Shit.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: oof. that was a lot. thank you for sticking with me, lol.

who do we think the mysterious Dodger could be?

i'd love to hear your thoughts! don't be afraid to reach out; hearing from you all keeps me going.

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️ (let me know if i've missed you)

sending all my love!

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul-27

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gretavanlace · 5 months

Text

Sugar II (part 6)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, illusions to cheating, illusions to oral sex (f rec), language, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, phone sex, etc

Your phone is lying on your chest when it begins to vibrate. Pretend you weren’t waiting for it all you want, your self-deception is laughable even to you. But isn’t that what you’ve become? A miserable joke who spurns the truth with a smile on her face and untruths in her heart.

Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others, Dostoevsky once said. Wise and brilliant, he was. He also loved someone he shouldn’t have too deeply to let them go.

He is beside you, arm draped across your middle, forehead tucked against your shoulder…so placid and secure in his place next to your wandering mind. So blissfully unaware and peaceful as he dreams of things you don’t care enough to wonder about. But hasn’t he always been? Unaware, that is? He has lived in the dark, oblivious to the fact that he has never truly cradled your heart in his hands.

You are a wicked, black-souled creature, and no one knows that better than yourself. He doesn’t deserve this, and he never did.

Maybe you shouldn’t answer. Maybe. But you will, and you do.

Slipping out of bed like a phantom, you move through the house on silent toes, creeping along until you’re folded into the chair in the far corner of the living room.

“What took you so long?’ His voice drifts out, lazy and quiet, “Hiding from Mr. Wonderful again, are we?”

“You have to stop calling me like this.” You’re quiet, but not like him. Your quiet stems from deceit, and some inexplicable fear of what? Getting caught on the phone? And that’s all this is, right? Just a conversation with an old friend? There’s that self-deception again.

“Stop answering, then.” He counters coolly. Unbothered and wholly aware that that won’t be happening.

“How was the show?” You ask, rather than comment on the ridiculous confidence laced through his tone like sex on his tongue.

“Good.” He sighs, and you can picture his flippant, nearly shy shrug so clearly it grips your heart tightly for a breath. “I may have had a whiskey or three too many. May have tripped. May have fallen. May not have been very rock and roll.”

Your soft giggle tightens his heart just the same, but he doesn’t tell you that. “Did you play through?”

“Of course I played through,” He scoffs with feigned offense. “Who’re you talkin’ to?”

“Then I think that’s very rock and roll, Jake.” The smile won’t leave your voice. “Besides, you misjudged those stairs, don’t blame the whiskey. You should wear your fucking glasses.”

“Oh!” Now he sounds incredibly pleased with himself, dragging the word out like the cat who ate the canary, “Sounds like my sugar caught the show…”

“I may have popped in to peek at a livestream.” You concede, curling down into the chair to get comfy.

“Groupie.”

Pulling the throw off the back, you sling it over your bare legs and shake your head at his nonsense “Miss my Sammy, that’s all.”

“Fuck you.” He laughs.

“Fuck you, too.” You toss right back, but you both hear the love hidden behind those terrible words.

“You miss my stupid kid brother so much, why don’t you come and see him? I could have you on a plane tonight. How long would it take you to get to the airport?” There’s a sincerity in his offer that makes you long to pack a bag and go.

“Jake…”

“Should I send a car, or do you think Mr. Wonderful would mind driving my girl?”

Little shit.

“Stop calling him that.” You scold with little conviction.

“What should I call him then, baby? Since you won’t tell me his name…”

Fighting to sound steadfast, you square your shoulders and issue a warning you don’t feel a drop of in your bones “I’m gonna hang up.”

“Liar.” There’s that gentle laugh of his that echoes through your mind all hours of your lonely days. “What did you do today, sugar? Tell me.”

“Um,” you pick at the blanket absently and search back through the monotony. “I had a work thing. Then I went to the supermarket. Saw a movie. I smuggled a bottle of water inside in my purse like a criminal.”

“I should alert the authorities, but they’ve probably already got your wires tapped.” He’s teasing, but he suddenly sounds so sad. “Did you go to the movies with him?”

You hesitate, which tells him everything without a word.

“Damn,” he’s so quiet now. “I hate that, sweetheart. I hate that so fucking much.”

It makes no sense, he knows you’ve just crawled out of the bed you share with him, he knows that a ring rests on your finger right now - he knows. So why does he sound so broken-hearted? Why this?

“You just go around doing stuff with him, you know?” He clarifies as though he’s heard your unasked question. “Simple little things. The movies. The market. Dinner with your friends. Bookstores. We never really got to do those things together.”

It surprises you, though you aren’t sure why…he’s always been this way, soft and romantic about the strangest things. “You’d want to go to the grocery store with me?”

He laughs as you verbally poke at him to lighten the mood. “I’d go anywhere with you.”

“That’s good. Because I loathe going to the gynecologists alone. Care to attend my Pap smear, Jakey?”

He laughs again, but this time, it’s halting and loud… your favorite of all his laughs, “Absolutely, I do. I’ll steal the stirrups and take them home to use later. The doctor will see you now, sugar.”

You’re laughing now too, likely a bit too loudly “You’re so fucking weird. I feel like I’m talking to Josh.”

“Spending too damn much time with him lately.” He offers by way of excuse, “his shit is rubbing off on me. The other day I briefly considered a perm.”

Your laughter trails off with matching sighs, “I should go.” You say it, but you don’t want it.

“No, you shouldn’t.” He argues quietly, and with a strange tone…he’s fighting something.

“What is it?” You press delicately.

“I just,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts before pouring them out to you. “I just thought you’d be back by now…but you’re still there, with him. And I’m still here.”

“Jake,”

He doesn’t allow for you to finish whatever it was you were about to say that he doesn’t care to hear. “Hush, baby…I know. Do you miss me?”

“Yeah,” you secret into the phone, stealing a glance down the hall. “I miss you very much.”

“Good.” He has quieted to match your whisper. “How much do you miss me? More than Sam?”

“Yeah, I miss you more than Sam,” you see? This is why you’re a bad fucking person. “But like I said, I should go.”

“Why?” There’s that terrible, beautiful rasp again, the one that fails to belie how hard for you he likely already is. “Because you’re afraid you’re going to slide your hands into your pretty panties for me just like you did last night, and the night before, and the night before that?”

It’s a knee jerk reaction that you can’t explain when your finger jabs at your phone to end the call.

He calls back right away, and right away, you answer.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He taunts into the phone with a grin dripping from his accusation. “Don’t you dare hang up on me. Have you forgotten your manners, little girl?”

“Can’t we ever just talk?” You’re struggling to remain on solid ground, but for what? You want nothing more than to sink into him. “Do you ever think about anything else?”

“Other than what?” He counters. “Other than fucking you? Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I think about loving you, and lying beside you like that fuck gets to do. Taking care of you, making you laugh, cooking for you, and drawing you baths, and going to the goddamn movies to watch you smuggle in bottles of water, but you won’t let me have any of that, will you, sugar?”

“I—“ you’re shocked into silence.

“Right.” He agrees, as if you’ve said something poignant. “So forgive me if I indulge where you see fit to allow.”

“Jake, this isn’t right…” oh, don’t you sound righteous? “It has to stop.”

“Isn’t right for who?” He is rife with condescension, “For him? Ask me if I give a fuck about him. Not to ruin the surprise, pretty girl, but I don’t. And maybe you do a little, maybe you do even more than that. Maybe you care more than I’d ever want to know, but you’ll never care enough for it to matter more than you and I.”

No one has ever seen you like Jake sees you…and it is both intoxicating and frightening.

“You want to hang up? Hang up. I won’t call you back tonight.” There’s an edge to his promise, but you know better than to believe it, and you’re thankful it's a lie.

“I don’t want to hang up.” You should want to…but you can’t imagine giving him up right now.

“I love you, sugar.” He breathes, and it’s the loveliest song you’ve ever heard. You want to close your eyes and drift away into it like a symphony. There are cellos and violins in those words, magic and pain more beautiful than anything else you’ve ever known.

“I love you, Jake.” You want him to feel those same things living and breathing inside your own words, but they feel so lacking.

“Do you know what I did this morning?” He questions. You can picture his face so perfectly, and you long to touch it, to simply run the back of your hand down his cheek.

“Hmm?” You hum, still lost in the daydream of being near enough to touch him, to soak in the warmth of his skin.

“I tuned the piano in our front room.”

You know right away that he means the house he visits in the corners of his mind, the place he keeps just for you.

Your gaze has drifted out the window. If you look hard enough, you can almost see the house in the distance, windows glowing golden with light and love “You did?”

“I did. You’re teaching the girls now. I wanted it to be perfect for the four of you.”

“I don’t know how to play the piano, Jakey.” You tease, staring harder still at the mirage of your make believe home.

“Yes, you do. I taught you. You took to it right away, and now you’re better than Sammy, even. You play like an angel. And sometimes, when the girls are asleep, we make love on it and scatter notes around the room in the night.”

Your hand finds its way into your panties all on its own, but it’s innocent somehow, gentle. “We make love on the piano?”

“We make love everywhere, sugar.” He hushes, “I’ve slipped inside of you against the maple tree in the backyard in the Autumn while it drops its leaves at our feet. I’ve nestled my face between your thighs on the porch because you like to watch in the moonlight. Bent you over the kitchen sink so you’ll forget about the dishes, in a closet or two when the girls were too busy to notice, in the dirt in the garden, everywhere.”

A soft moan you attempt to swallow escapes you as your fingers sweep, wet and warm, across your clit.

“What was that, sweetheart?” The smugness in his query is so loving you forget to be annoyed with it, “Are you touching yourself imagining all the places I’ve made you mine? All the places I’ve taken you and made you shake, over and over and over?”

“Tell me,” you beg, slipping your leg over the arm of the chair, opening yourself up for him, offering something he isn’t here to take. “Talk to me. Tell me.”

“That’s my girl,” are you imagining the sound of his zipper through his praise? “What do you want to hear? I’ll talk to you all night, sugar…talk to you forever. Until my voice gives out.”

“The porch,” Another brush against your aching clit, another airy moan you fail to quiet, “Tell me about on the porch.”

“Yeah? You want to hear all about how I lick your pretty pussy on the front porch until you’re dripping down my chin? Want me to tell you about how good you taste, and how sweet you sound when you whine and rock against my mouth?” His voice is like sandpaper smoothing out the frayed edges of your heart. And you most definitely heard his zipper.

“Jake, please…” you would give nearly anything for him to materialize in the room. To listen to his boots clip across the hardwood as he moves, closing in on you until you’re trembling with anticipation.

“Shh, sugar…” he clicks his tongue in mock sympathy, “We wouldn’t want to wake Mr. Wonderful. He doesn’t belong on this porch with us, does he?”

“Tell me.” Your demand falls short through another shaky sigh.

“It’s late, baby,” you can hear it now, the rhythmic, slick slide of his fist along his cock, “and we really should go inside and go to bed, but I can’t take my eyes off of you, you look so fucking stunning in the starlight. You’re curled up next to me in the thinnest, whitest nightie, and I can see the tops of your thighs. So soft and smooth. And I only want to kiss them, but the second I’m on my knees you’re spread open for me like you’ve been waiting for my mouth.”

You’re so wet you can almost pretend your fingers are his tongue drawing tight circles exactly where you need it “And then?”

“Then I slip your panties off, and you give me a little shit about it just for show, but you shut up quick when I start licking along the insides of your thighs. You smell so fucking good, and you taste like heaven, and my cock is so fucking hard for you, but I don’t care about that, all I care about is getting my mouth on you.”

“Do I really taste that good, Jakey?” You pant, arching away from the back of the chair as you slip inside your warmth and fish for compliments.

“You do, baby.” His breath drags in and out of his lungs hard and fast. “You taste so sweet…prettiest, pinkest pussy I’ve ever kissed, you taste like home, you taste like my sugar.”

“Fuck, I’m—“

“Slow down.” He interrupts, sounding gentle in a way he seldom does when he’s hard and throbbing for you. “You just go real slow for me and listen.”

You nod, and though he can’t see you, he seems to feel it all the same.

“I’m on my knees against the porch you helped me strip and sand, and you’re spread open for me on the swing. It creaks every time you move. Your hands are in my hair, but you’re being such a gentle girl, fucking your lovely cunt up into my mouth, begging me softly to suck your spoiled little clit, begging me to make you cum.”

With your fingers fluttering light as air, you can almost imagine it all to be real, and you’re close…so close.

With a choked gasp of your name he pauses, but recovers in a blink, “You’re whining for my fingers, but I want to get you there just like this. I don’t want anything in the way when you finally let go on my tongue. I want to drink you down, baby…every drop. It’s all mine, and I want it. And you let me have you that way, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically, writhing in the chair until the blanket falls away, forgotten.

“And you’re going to be such a good girl for me, huh?” That, leading, teasing tone has joined the party, and your stomach is twisting and turning, wringing the lust out of your very soul, “You’re going to be the sweetest little sweetheart and cum right in my mouth because I’m just so fucking thirsty, aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck, Jake…” you’ve hardly made a sound, your constricted throat won’t allow for much more, “Say it again.”

He knows what you want, and like always, he gives it to you without question or thought. “Want you to cum in my mouth right here on the porch, you beautiful fucking filthy girl. I want you, sugar…c’mon and make a mess on my tongue.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you’re spread wide and thrusting into your own touch, but it’s Jake you feel…he’s everywhere, all around you, you’re drenched in him.

“Of course you are, sweetheart,” he soothes, sounding near the end himself, “Because you know how badly I want it, and you’re my girl.”

“I’m your girl,” you whimper, desperate for more more more… “I’m your fucking girl, Jakey. I love you…”

“Love you too, sugar,” a growl rumbles out of him low and menacing. “Love you so fucking much. Come on, baby, c’mon…”

With a fist drawn to your mouth and your teeth dug in deeply, you let it happen. Welcoming that sparking, searing, electric bliss only he seems to be capable of gracing you with, no matter how near or far he happens to be.

You’re quiet somehow, but he doesn’t seem to need anything more than your muted gasps to get there with you. Though on his end, he sounds feral and violent…like the beautiful, seedy underbelly of something you shouldn’t want. Pornographic and obscene. Improper. Dirty. Wrong. Perfect.

With the calm of the afterglow, comes the shame. The guilt. The self-hatred. He knows it all too well already, and rather than drawing attention to what has just happened, he shifts focus to help you through.

“I might order room service. If you were here right now, what would you want? That’s what I’ll get.”

“Hmm,” you think it over, kicking the blanket up from the floor to recover a bit of modesty, “Soup sounds good. Broccoli cheddar if they have it.”

“Soup?” There’s that wide open laugh of his again.

“Yes.” You pretend-pout. “And don’t laugh at me. It sounds divine.”

“Soup it is, sugar.” He sounds soft and a little unlike himself. “We’ve got a small break coming up. It’s only a couple of days, but what if I came to see you?”

“Jake,” you’re preparing to wage a loving war, though you want to see him more than you want the air you breathe to quench your lungs.

“I just want to take you to the movies, that’s all,” he holds up his metaphorical hands innocently. “Will you go see a flick with me? No illegal bottles of water necessary.”

“You want to go to the movies?” You laugh at the idea of it all. So PG in a manner so… not Jake.

“Yep.” He sounds positively delighted at the mirth in your response. “Bring Mr. Wonderful, we’ll have a great time.”

You roll your eyes, stretching out your limbs, which have been tense and contorted for far too long, “Oh, don’t be silly, Jacob, like I would ever share you with Mr. Wonderful.”

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alwaysonthemend · 4 months

Text

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @mindastreamofcolours Please don't throw tomatoes at me I know this has taken FAR too long (I'm the worst I'm so sorry) But I hope the length is enough of an apology for the wait. If you see any typos... no you didn't

Also sorry if you got tagged twice. Tumblr was against me posting this apparently and I was ✨struggling✨ but I think I got it fixed now.

Warnings: Threesome (no slash) / unprotected sex / spitting / spanking / oral (m. and f. receiving) / hand jobs / masturbation / voyeurism / arguing / josh being josh / jake being a little shit / dom and sub jake / dom and sub reader / soft!dom josh / MINORS ABSOLUTELY DNI. 18+ ONLY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Word Count: 7k+

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It started years ago – this little… arrangement that the three of you have. And at this point, none of you can even really remember how it had started. But, you suppose, the why and how don’t really matter anymore.

All that matters is them.

All that matters is that your life had changed from the very minute you were hired as their makeup artist. Your life changed to revolve around them and their needs.

And you love every second of it.

The rules (though none of you have ever really stated them outright) have always been simple.

One: Don’t talk about it with anyone else. No one needs to know what goes on behind closed doors and no one needs to concern themselves with something they won’t understand. This works for you three and involving others would only complicate things.

Two: No jealousy. At least, no more than a little showing out here and there. They work together (and they love each other more than anything else in the world) and this cannot ever get in the way. No questions, no pissing contests, no anger, no holding it against each other. There are nights where you leave with Josh and there are nights where you leave with Jake. There’s nothing else to it.

And finally, three: Never at the same time.

The arrangement is simple, really. You’re there to help them get their frustrations out now that they’re far too famous to be sleeping around with just any old roadie like the old days. They trust you. And you trust them. It’s easier this way for everyone. They get to blow off some steam and you get the most mind blowing sex of your life – all while getting to travel around the world doing what you love (for a handsome paycheck).

Plus, there’s satisfaction in knowing that despite there being thousands of men and women out there who would give anything to have them the way you do… it’s you who they go to. It’s you who they trust.

And anyways, you’re fairly certain that none of those screaming fans would be able to handle them like you can.

Though it had taken time, you had learned over the years what makes each of them tick – the thing that drives each of them absolutely crazy.

They’re both so similar and yet so different at the same time. Sun and moon, yin and yang… whatever you might call it – they balance each other in a way that few can understand.

Their differences are subtle, and yet they make all the difference in the world.

Josh loves to watch you. He wants to see how your face contorts in pleasure and how your tits bounce when he fucks you. He wants you on your back with your knees up to your chest so he can watch his cock slide in and out of you. He wants to watch you unravel around his cock as he whispers sweet things into your ear. Good girl, clever girl, beautiful girl. All you have to do is lay there and take it – let him pleasure you with his skilled tongue and big cock. Call him baby and Joshy in your sweetest voice and he falls apart inside your cunt, whining and moaning so prettily for you. Josh will give you orgasm after orgasm after orgasm until your body just can’t take it anymore and when you’re finally spent – laying there in a daze, he’ll grin and kiss you softly.

And then there’s Jake. Ever the dark to Josh’s light… he wants you to beg for it. He wants you cock drunk and desperate as he brings you to the edge over and over and over again until you’re left as nothing but a whiny mess beneath him. He demands respect. You call him sir or you will receive punishment. You do not cum unless he tells you to. You are obedient to him and him alone (though he always remains a slave to your pleasure despite himself). He likes you on your hands and knees where he can grip your hips and reach around to squeeze your throat as he pounds into you mercilessly. And his mouth. The vulgar things that spew from those plump lips of his leave you blushing like a schoolgirl. You’re his whore, his slut, his pretty little hole that he gets to use for the night. And when he finally, finally lets you cum…it’s the closest to Heaven on Earth that you’ll ever get.

But yet, as different as they are from each other… they’re the same in all the ways that matter. Your pleasure is at the top of their priorities. As much as you are there to help them relieve themselves on the road… they never take you for granted. At the end of the day, you call the shots and you have both of them wrapped around your finger completely. They’ll follow you into the depths of Hell if you ask them – which you’re sure is where all three of you are headed anyway. It’s an addictive little dance that you all play and you’re sure that it can only lead you all down the path of destruction. And yet… none of you can find it in yourselves to care.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You already know that they’re pissed. You can practically smell it in the air as you wait patiently in the green room, waiting.

They had already been having one of those days – where everything seems to go wrong and they’re both intent on blaming the other for it. You’d been watching them do their dance all day. Listening to their bickering and passive aggressive little remarks at each other as the hours wore on and on. As close as they are… as inseparable as they are, there are days when they can’t seem to stand each other.

And unfortunately, the tension between the two of them had manifested itself on stage tonight. Of course, you’re 100% certain that none of the members of the audience had even noticed, but you had. And they sure had.

Josh had been late to the curtain drop. Perpetually late to everything else, he’d always had the decency to at least be on time for his own concerts until tonight. Jake’s shoulders had tensed practically up to his ears at the confused sounds of the crowd as they realized that they were one man short and though you couldn’t see him, you’re sure that the glare that Josh had probably received had been pointed and harsh.

And then of course Jake’s equipment had malfunctioned briefly, causing him to angrily gesture at his tech to get the problem fixed. It hadn’t taken longer than two minutes and few even noticed the mishap, but the shit eating grin that Josh had given Jake only added to his building rage.

And finally, the nail in the metaphorical coffin for the night… Jake had decided that it would be a wonderful idea to cut Josh off in the middle of one of his little bits, effectively silencing his joke with a piercing whine from his guitar.

You’d known immediately that it was over. They'd pushed each other far enough and you would be the one to suffer the (delicious) consequences. It’s just a matter of who gets to you first.

If Jake reaches you first, you know that you’re in for a night of complete sexual agony and he’ll push you to your limit until he deems you’ve begged him enough for it before finally giving you an orgasm that you’re sure to remember for months to come. And you’ll surely be waking up tomorrow with a bright red ass and a hitch in your step.

And if Josh gets to you, well… it’s harder to tell with him. Perhaps he’ll decide on a vibrator for the night – getting to watch you fall apart serving as the perfect distraction from his troubles. Or perhaps his tongue will instead be his weapon of choice, using it to make you cum until you physically can’t anymore.

Either option sounds wonderful and you can’t quite tell which one you want more. The wait will be well worth it no matter which boy is the one to reach you first.

–

The sound of the door opening stirs you from your thoughts. You turn to see Josh (the lucky winner for the night) eyeing you like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. At this point, you’re pretty sure that you are.

“Y/n.”

That’s all he says. It’s all he has to say. Even from here you can see his eyes are blown wide and his chest heaves as his eyes drink in your form. Standing there, cloaked in velvet, he’s the picture of sin. The gemstones on his suit glitter as he stands there and you meet his hungry gaze with an innocent smile.

“Hi, Joshy. Something wrong?” The lilt in your voice is sickly sweet, building up the tension that will inevitably make him snap.

He only hums – the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“I think you know what's wrong, baby.” He whispers, dropping his hand down to palm his hard cock through the velvet.

Well shit you think to yourself, an excited thrum coursing through your veins as slick pools between your thighs. If he's starting something here… he's desperate enough to not be able to wait for the short ride back to the hotel. All the signs are pointing to tonight being one that you won't forget.

“Bad day?” You question, leaning back on the sofa where you're sitting and giving him your very best doe eyes.

He nods, a sigh escaping from between his teeth as his hand grazes his crotch– his throbbing length obvious to you through the tight material.

“Anything I can do to make you feel better?” This game is making you even wetter… the promise of what you know is to come. Without another word, you slide your body downwards until your knees hit the floor. You glance at him, patting the sofa with your palm. “Bet I can make you forget all about today, baby.”

“Fuck.” He practically moans, biting his lip as he stalks across the room to look down at you. “You gonna be my sweet girl? Help me relax?”

You nod, your mouth watering at the sight of his cock straining the fabric of his jumpsuit.

He grins devilishly, unzipping his suit and pulling the fabric down so that it rests around his thick thighs. With grace, he eases himself down to sit on the sofa, leaning back and spreading his legs.

He never wears underwear in these tight suits and you’re grateful as you sit and stare at his cock. Flushed red and rock hard, it curves upwards to rest against his belly.

Making a show of it, you hold your palm open and allow a string of saliva to drip from your mouth into your waiting hand. Josh groans at the sight and you waste no time as you wrap your palm around his length, slowly pumping him as you keep your eyes fixed on his.

A flush has overtaken his cheeks and a light sheen of sweat beads at his hairline. He's got his plump bottom lip caught between his teeth as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back. He wants to watch you stroke his cock.

You drop your focus to his throbbing erection, flicking your wrist as you continue to tease him. You press your thumb into the spot just beneath his head and a whine escapes him. You keep the pace slow – too slow for his liking. Working him up until he can't stand it anymore.

“Don't tease, baby.” He whispers, his tone soft but demanding.

His hand covers yours, halting your movement as he gazes down at you. You know what he wants. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, flattening the muscle as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Fuck, there she is. My wonderful girl.” He mutters, placing the head of his cock on your tongue. He doesn't push in yet, instead taking a moment to admire the sight before him: you, on your knees, tongue obediently extended and your eyes glittering in the dim light.

Slowly, teasingly, he slides his length into your mouth and you close your lips around him. Relaxing your jaw, you allow the blunt head of his length to hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly around it, exhaling strongly through your nose. Placing both of your palms on his thighs, you dig your fingers into the meat of them as you start to bob your head up and down. You keep your tongue pressed into the underside of him, drawing a loud moan from between his pretty lips.

You pull out all the tricks you know, making sure to gag every now and then because you know it drives him wild. Tears stream down your cheeks and saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and Josh is quickly coming apart beneath you.

Just as his cock begins to twitch, signaling his impending orgasm, you’re both broken from your moment at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You pull off him, wide eyes turning to be met with none other than his twin – a dark, dangerous look on his face.

“What a fucking sight.” He says with a grin, stepping further into the room.

Josh eyes him warily, his cock softening at Jake’s interruption.

“What do you want, Jake?” You ask him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You’re kinda interrupting something, here.” Josh says snidely, sitting up straighter and pulling his jumpsuit back up to cover his cock.

“I didn’t say you had to stop.” Jake shrugs, taking a seat in the chair opposite the sofa. “Just patiently waiting for my turn, is all.”

You quirk a brow at him. He’s never done this before – neither of them have. You can sense the tension and anger radiating off Josh – and Jake seems entirely too comfortable as he sits there watching, a smug little smirk on his face.

“Wait somewhere else, then.” Josh demands, sitting up straighter and glaring at his brother.

Jake only meets him with a grin, sitting back in his seat and spreading his legs to get more comfortable.

“I’m good here. Won’t take long anyway.”

Despite yourself, you huff a laugh at his joke and then it's your turn for Josh to glare at you.

“Fuck off, Jake.” Josh tells him, jerking his head for the door. “Be fucking thoughtful for once in your life.”

Jake sits forwards suddenly, placing his elbows on his knees and narrowing his eyes.

“That’s rich coming from you, brother. Easy for you to say when you always get your fucking way.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” Josh snaps, eyes fiery.

Jake scoffs.

“Fucking diva.”

“Asshole.”

“Boys.” You cut in, wiping your palms on your thighs. “Enough. I’m not doing anything with either of you if you’re going to act like children. You,” you glance at Josh, “now you know that you can be controlling and nitpicky sometimes.” Josh’s eyes narrow at you and he opens his mouth to protest but you start in on Jake instead.

“And you” You glare at Jake, washing the smirk off his face. “You know that you like to stir shit up and make people mad on purpose because you think it's funny. You both have been acting unreasonable all day and you will not be using me as a piece in your little games with each other.”

Josh looks suitably chastised and Jake too has the decency to look a little guilty. You rise from your place on the floor, knees protesting slightly. Both of their brown eyes track your movements, their facial expressions exactly alike. Fucking twins you think to yourself.

“Can you please make him leave?” Josh begs, pleading with you with his eyes and a tiny pout on his lips.

“No. I’m the one who’s leaving. I’m not fucking either of you until this” you gesture between the two of them, “gets resolved. You both know what room I’m in. Get your shit together and figure it out.”

With that, you stalk confidently across the room, throwing open the door and making your way to the exit of the venue. Just as you round the corner, faintly you can hear Josh’s voice – angry and high pitched, “You couldn’t even let me have one fucking moment with her, could you? You asshole!”

Rolling your eyes, you call an Uber and wait for it to take you back to your hotel.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You take a nice, hot shower as soon as you get back. You take your time, allowing yourself to relax and forget about your idiotic twins. Once you get out and dry off, you check your phone to see a text from Jake.

I’m sorry.

You just giggle at the message. You know he’s never being malicious. But he does enjoy stirring shit up sometimes without really thinking about the consequences. You figure you’ll leave him on ‘read’ for now so he can sit there tonight and stew for a little bit.

Just as you turn it off, the screen lights up again with a text from Josh.

im sorry baby

You figure you can answer him. He hadn’t been the one to try and involve you in their pissing match anyways. You send him a quick ‘It’s okay.’ before turning your phone off for good. Once changed into a pair of comfortable cotton panties and a tank top, you slip under the covers in the hopes of getting some good sleep.

–

A loud knock wakes you.

Sitting up, you rub your eyes and try to get your bearings. You’d been sound asleep.

Another knock against the door.

“Fuck, coming!” You call, climbing out of bed and making your way to the door, fully expecting one of the twins to be waiting on the other side.

The door swings open and you stop dead in your tracks. Both twins stand across the threshold, matching twinkles in their eyes.

“Hey, angel.” Jake says kindly, as if both of them showing up at your door in the middle of the night is perfectly normal.

“Um. Hi?”

“May we come in?” Josh asks you, grinning slightly as he takes in your state of (un) dress.

“I guess?” You step aside, allowing them both to step into the room (annoyingly in sync as they walk). You close the door and lock it behind you. “Is everything okay?”

“Wonderful, actually.” Jake says, plopping himself down in the desk chair and swiveling back around to look at you.

“You and Josh figure things out, then?”

“Yup.” Josh says, popping the ‘p.’

“Great.”

They’re both silent for a minute, making you squirm slightly under their dual gazes. They know something… or want something. You can feel it in the air. They’re up to something. Whether good or bad… you have no fucking clue.

“Is there a reason that you’re both here?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the bed as Josh comes to stand in the middle of the room.

“Yes. Though whether or not both of us stay is up to you.” Josh starts, glancing back at his twin for a moment before continuing. “See, we realized that we were both being a little overly dramatic today.”

“Which Josh started.” Jake butts in.

“Shut up, Jake.” Josh says, narrowing his eyes again and you’re worried that they’re going to start all over again. But Josh lets it slide. “And neither of us really want to give you up for the night seeing as how we’ve both had such a shit day.” He pauses and looks pointedly at Jake. “Regardless of who started it.”

“And see… we thought that maybe – just this once, neither of us should have to wait. Figured that maybe we could share you for tonight.” Jake cuts in.

“Share me?” You ask slowly, brain working a mile a minute as it tries to make sense of his words. Surely he doesn’t mean… right?

“Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” Josh says easily, hands moving about slightly as he speaks. “Or you can tell us to fuck off and we’ll leave you alone for the night.”

You swallow thickly, heart thrumming.

“Share me…” You echo, brows pinched together. “As in, you both… with me. At the same time.” You speak slowly, still trying to wrap your head around the idea.

“In essence, yes. If you’d like to.” Jake says.

You’re silent for a long moment – each of them waiting patiently for you to speak again. You’d be a big fat liar if you said that you hadn’t thought about it before. Having both of them… the ultimate sin that your mind loves to throw at you whenever you’re alone. Nights in between touring when you lay alone in bed, your own hand between your thighs to relieve the ache that the twins leave in their absence. Your thoughts – unable to choose, swirling between both of them. Their faces, the same but not, plaguing your mind’s eye and making your aching pussy soaked. Josh’s sugary words and Jake’s dirty compliments echoing through your ears all mixed up. The thought of having both of them at once – as wrong as it may be… just the thought alone usualy has you coming apart in seconds.

And now here they are, offering you your deepest desire on a silver fucking platter.

“Okay.” You breathe out, voice shaky but sure.

“You’re sure?” Josh asks, stepping towards you and brushing his fingertips down your cheek. “It’s your choice.”

“You won’t hurt our feelings by saying no.” Jake adds, smiling ever so softly at you.

“And I’m saying yes.” You tell him with all the confidence that you can. Because you do want this. More than anything. You want to be fucking ruined.

And yet… you’re not sure where to start. This is new territory – one that feels as though it’s too good to be true. Perhaps it is.

“I believe I interrupted something earlier.” Jake says, once again leaning backwards in his chair. “Perhaps we can start by letting you finish what you started.”

Jake must have sensed your hesitance, deciding instead to tell you where to start. You’re infinitely grateful for him and his ability to sense when you need guidance.This is familiar for you – letting him take control. It’s natural the way his velvet voice tells you what to do. It makes this easy.

You nod, gaze sweeping to where Josh stands, his face eager as he watches you slide off the bed to come and stand before him.

“On your knees for me, sweet girl.” Josh whispers, easing his sweatpants off his hips and then hooking his fingers in the elastic of his boxers and pulls them down as well. He’s already hard and leaking, probably aching to be touched after being interrupted earlier. Slowly, you ease down onto your knees.

“Suck his cock, angel. Make him feel good.” Jake’s voice is smooth as whiskey, just barely above a whisper.

You do as he says, opening wide and letting Josh slide his cock back into your waiting mouth.

“Shit.” He hisses, tossing his head back as his tip hits your throat. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair as he begins to thrust into you softly, giving your throat a moment to adjust to the intrusion before picking up his pace.

You can feel the wetness between your thighs as you sit there letting him use your mouth – the cotton of your panties surely completely drenched through. Something about the noises Josh is making coupled with the feeling of Jake’s dark gaze on you has you feeling like you could come completely untouched before the night is over.

The sound of a zipper being undone has you pull off Josh and snap your gaze over to Jake – Josh whimpers at the loss of contact but you’re more concerned with the sight of Jake easing his own hard cock from his pants and wrapping his fist around himself. He strokes his hard length lazily, eyes never leaving you.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asks, a sharp edge to his voice. “Keep sucking him, angel. You look so pretty like that.”

Josh’s finger hooks beneath your chin, forcing your focus back onto him and you gasp at the sight. His eyes, normally a soft brown, are blown almost black with lust. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is heavy as he gazes down at you.

“Focus on me.” He says softly, his thumb coming down to caress your bottom lip. He tugs at it, dragging it downwards slightly before gripping your jaw a little harder.

You take the hint and open your mouth again.

“Good girl.”

This time, you do give him your full attention as his thrusts into your mouth grow more confident. You gag around him and you hear Jake let out a quiet little groan at the sound. Spurred on, you relax your jaw even more, taking Josh even deeper.

“Oh fuck.” Josh whines, head tossed back in pleasure. “Good fucking girl.”

His cock twitches on your tongue and he pulls out, a string of saliva connecting his flushed tip to your mouth.

You pout slightly, having wanted to taste his release but he only smiles at you.

“Not yet, baby. I wanna savor this.” He caresses your jaw lovingly. “On the bed.”

You hastily comply, scrambling to sit in the middle of the large bed and looking at your twins – waiting for them to tell you what to do.

“Look at that.” Jake says with no small amount of pride in his voice as he stands up and begins to strip from his clothes before striding over to the side of the bed. You take a long moment to admire him.

You eye the way his biceps and forearms flex as he moves, your mouth waters as you admire his plush thighs, and your own thighs clench at the way the strength of his body is balanced by his curves that are so rare to find in a man. He’s nothing short of breathtaking.

“Always so eager to please. Just waiting to be told what to do.” He hums, hand still lazily stroking his leaking cock. “Strip.”

“That’s a good girl.” Josh mutters, watching you with hungry eyes as you pull your tank top over your head and slide your soaked panties down your legs, kicking them to the floor.

Josh, the only one still clothed, begins to strip himself – but your focus is ripped from him as Jake comes to stand at the edge of the bed. He grips your calf in his strong, calloused hand, using it to yank your body around and onto your back. There’s no finesse to his movements as he manhandles you into the position he wants, the hunger in his eyes infinitely clear.

Once on your back, Josh climbs into the bed between your thighs. He settles his weight between them, using his palms to spread your legs wider and exposing your glistening folds. His back muscles flex as his lithe form settles, his amber eyes glittering up at you.

“She’s dripping.” Josh murmurs, tongue darting out to lick his plush bottom lip. “Stunning.”

You whine, inching your hips towards him slightly, your core aching to be touched.

“Desperate little thing.” Jake’s velvet voice rings out through the room, his hand coming down to tangle in your hair. He stands at the edge of the bed, his hard cock merely inches away from where your head hangs off the edge.

Another pulse of need rocks through you as your brain catches on to the possibilities that this position grants you. With Josh nestled between your thighs and Jake’s aching member so close to your mouth, you have no doubts about where this is going.

As if in answer to your sinful thoughts, Josh swipes a finger through your folds, just barely brushing against your swollen clit and making you jolt.

“Josh, please.” You whine, spreading your legs wider for him – begging him silently to give you more.

“She just loves to be eaten out, don’t you?” Jake murmurs, looking down at you squirm on the bed. “Go ahead, Josh. Give her what she wants.”

Josh relents, delving into your core and circling your bundle of nerves with his tongue. The feeling is sudden – aggressive even, and the stimulation makes you cry out loudly. He hooks his arms around both of your thighs as he begins his assault, using his talented tongue to completely unravel you.

Jake, never one to let the spotlight last on Josh for too long, taps the head of his cock on your lips. Without hesitation, you open your mouth and let him slide his member between your lips. With your neck hanging downwards, he reaches all the way to your throat with ease. You moan and swallow around him, making his composure crack slightly as a groan escapes him.

“Fuck. Perfect little mouth.” He praises, beginning to thrust delicately into you. “Tap on my thigh and I’ll stop.” He says through clenched teeth and all you can do is moan around his cock in response.

Josh’s slender fingers suddenly join in the mix as he plunges them into you – curling them in a way that makes your legs feel like jelly as he keeps lapping at your clit with your tongue. He moans as he does so, his hips rutting into the mattress below him as he pleasures you.

If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’re sure that you’d be screaming from the pleasure. Between Josh’s menstrations and the sound of Jake’s breathy moans as he fucks into your mouth, your orgasm is already rapidly approaching.

Your arms thrash about widely, finally coming down to fist into the sheets as the crest of pleasure builds within you. Josh is unrelenting, using all the things that he knows makes you fall apart. Jake is faring no better than you, his face twisting and contorting in pleasure.

“Come on, Y/n. Be a good slut and cum, baby.” He encourages, voice shaky with his own pleasure. “Enjoy it. You’re not gonna get another one for a long while.”

With that, the band snaps and your orgasm rips through you – drenching Josh’s face as he works you through it. Jake pulls from your mouth, allowing you a chance to get a full gulp of air as you writhe beneath them.

Josh sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning from ear to ear.

“Tastes like candy.” He says, licking his lips as he gazes at your spread out form.

All you can do is lay there stunned for a moment as you recover, chest heaving.

“She’s a sight for sore eyes.” Jake murmurs, caressing your jawline with his pointer finger. “Bet that pretty pussy is just aching to get fucked, isn’t she?”

You nod, body already aching for another orgasm.

“Does my beautiful girl want my cock?” Josh asks, gripping your ankles and pulling so that your head now rests fully on the bed.

Just as you open your mouth to reply, Jake cuts in with a dangerous lilt to his voice.

“Don’t assume, brother. Maybe she’d prefer someone else’s.”

“Doubtful.” Josh snarks, glaring daggers at his twin.

“Fuck, stop.” You breathe out, sitting up to glare at both of them. You try to keep your face stern, but the thought of both of them arguing over who gets to fuck you has more slick pooling between your thighs. “No arguing.”

“Your choice then, baby.” Josh grins, a smug smile on his face as if he already knows your answer.

But in truth, even you don’t know. In fact, you have half a mind to let them continue arguing if only to further fuel the fire between your legs. But you figure that encouraging them would only end in all out warfare. Instead, you just grin at them, a wonderful idea coming to life in your mind.

“Jake.” You start, turning to meet his dark eyes. “Get on the bed.”

He grins and complies, eyes glittering thinking that he’s going to get his way. He always does when it comes to the bedroom, but tonight you want to challenge him – remind him and Josh who’s really in charge here.

Jake crawls over to you, a dominant air about him as he moves to smother your body with his own. But instead of allowing it, you press your palm into his chest and push – shoving his back roughly into the headboard.

Air escapes his lips in a shocked huff as he stares at you – completely taken off guard. Josh, seeing his expression, laughs quietly.

“Angel, what-”

You shush him.

“Quiet.” You glance between him and Josh. “You both said that I’m in control, didn’t you?” You ask, though it’s not really a question. You all know the answer.

Jake nods and Josh whispers a quiet ‘yes.’

With a grin, you turn your eyes to face Josh, his lips parted and eyes watching your every move – just waiting for you to tell him what you want.

Without a word, you nudge Jake’s legs further apart before settling yourself on your knees between them. His chest moves up and down rapidly as he looks up at you. Though he’s letting you call the shots, you’re sure that you’ll pay for it some other time. But for now, you’re going to enjoy it.

“You know, Jake…” You murmur, sweeping your palms up his thighs and feeling the muscle twitch beneath your fingertips, “You love calling the shots. Maybe even more than Josh does.” You drop your hand to play with his cock – lightly pinching his tip between your fingertips and making his hips buck upwards off the bed. “I feel like maybe it might be time for a taste of your own medicine, yeah?”

A delicate, almost silent whimper escapes him. It’s so quiet that you might have thought you imagined it… but the way his cock twitches and his chest heaves gives him away.

“Josh?” Josh, sitting silently and watching you, perks up as you finally turn your attention back to him. “Come here, baby. Right behind me.”

Josh complies, crawling over behind where you sit between Jake’s thighs. Without a word, you slowly ease your chest downwards, spreading your own thighs and allowing your ass to stick up invitingly in the air for Josh. You wiggle your ass and a shaky exhale punches out of him, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

As he does so, you sweep your gaze up to meet Jake’s eyes – his pupils blown wide with want. Opening your mouth, you teasingly lick up his shaft, swirling the tip of your tongue around his head, before pulling your mouth away again.

“You don’t get to come until I say. Understand?”

He nods and you wrap your arms around his thighs and dig your fingers into the soft flesh.

“Words.”

“I understand, angel.”

Tossing your head back over your shoulder to look at Josh, you ease your hips back towards him again.

“Let me fuck you, pretty girl.” He begs, his hard cock pressing into your ass cheek as he waits for your permission.

“Go ahead, Joshy.” You tell him, keeping your voice nice and sweet just like he likes. “Make me feel good.”

You descend your mouth back onto Jake’s aching cock as Josh enters you with one long thrust. You moan, causing Jake to groan at the vibration.

“Fuck, just like that.” Jake moans, his hand coming up to grip your hair but you swat it away. You want to enjoy the control for a while longer.

Josh’s hips slam into yours rhythmically, his pace slow and precise. With each glide of his cock against your walls, his head nails that special place inside of you. It takes all of your focus to keep bobbing your head up and down Jake’s length, making sure to keep your tongue pressing up into him – making him writhe and moan as he fights to keep himself from rutting his hips up into your mouth.

“Baby,” Josh moans, his voice sounding wrecked as his hips increase their speed. “Fuck, I can feel you fluttering around me.”

The wet sound coming from between your thighs coupled with the sound of Josh’s skin hitting yours and the sound of your mouth moving up and down Jake’s cock makes a delightfully symphony of pure lust and sin. You know already that this night will forever be cemented in your mind for years to come. You will never be able to think of it without growing wet. Josh’s cock is stretching you so wonderfully and Jake’s pretty noises are making your clit throb.

Saliva dribbles out of the sides of your mouth, drenching Jake’s cock and just by the sound of him alone you can tell that he’s close. Josh’s pace is beginning to grow frenzied, his breaths coming out in tiny little moans as his own orgasm approaches. Hearing both of them, Jake’s hot, aching cock twitching on your tongue, Josh’s cock hitting all the right places… it’s like every one of your senses has been overtaken with them. Their sounds, the feel of them. Fuck it’s the best feeling in the whole fucking world. And as much as you don’t want this to end, you just can’t fight your orgasm anymore.

You cry out around Jake’s cock, throat constricting around him as your release rips through you. Josh is a moaning mess as his own orgasm overtakes him, his cock painting your walls as he buries himself inside of you. His hips keep going, overstimulating himself with your clenching pussy as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Finally he pulls out, murmuring praises for you as he tries to calm down.

Through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind, you register Jake’s cock twitching on your tongue. He needs to cum, his whines echoing over the roaring in your ears as he holds himself back, waiting for your permission.

You pull off him, robbing him of his finish and a feral growl escapes him at the loss. You’ve enjoyed not giving him what he wants and the power has gone to your head it seems. But you’ve pushed it too far.

Faster than what you thought possible, Jake sits up and fists your hair in his grasp. He yanks backwards, exposing your throat for him and you can’t help but moan.

“Brat.” He whispers, leaning in close to you. His eyes look over your shoulder to Josh, who’s eyeing the both of you warily. “Move.” Jake demands, but Josh doesn’t do it. “Move.” He demands again, eyes blazing.

A fresh wave of slick escapes you, dripping down your thighs and drenching the bed below at the anger in Jake’s voice. Making him wait, telling him what to do… it had been wonderful while it lasted but this is the Jake that you want.

“Josh.” You whine, unable to face him fully because of Jake’s hold on your hair. “Do as he says.”

Gingerly, Josh moves up in the bed. As soon as he’s out of the way, Jake grips your waist and flips you, pushing your back into the mattress as he hovers over you. His cock, neglected and no doubt aching, grazes your stomach and your thighs clench together in the hopes of soothing the ache there.

“I agree to share you for the night, I let you call all the shots. Fuck I even let Josh be the one to fuck you…” He says darkly, his fingers gripping your sides and digging into your skin harshly. “And this is what I get in return, huh?” He laughs, sitting up just a bit to grip his cock in his hand and pump himself a few times, his precum making it easy for him. “No more nice. You’re gonna lie here,” he says, sliding his tip through your wet folds. “And you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Josh, breaking his silence at last, leans back onto the headboard and spreads his legs.

“Be good for him, baby girl. Just lie there and look pretty doing it.”

The shock of his words has you momentarily breathless but then Jake spears you with his cock, effectively silencing your thoughts of anything other than the feeling of him stretching you. You cry out, hands fisting in the sheets at your sides as Jake starts a merciless pace. His hips are like lightning, pounding into you at a pace that you’ve never experienced before.

From the corner of your vision you can see Josh, his hand dropping between his thighs, his dick rock hard yet again despite having only just cum moments before. He moans your name at the first glide of his hand over his cock, his knees falling open wider and his jaw hanging slack with pleasure.

"You look so fucking pretty like that, baby." Josh's words come out shaky thanks to the pleasure coursing through him. "Fucking hell."

Jake, his face contorted in almost a snarl, snaps his hips into yours like a man possessed. It’s so fast and so soon after your last orgasm that your pussy feels like it's on fire – icy hot sparks mixing with the pleasure as your body trembles beneath him. You open your mouth to speak – to demand more or for him to stop you have no idea, but all that comes out is a high pitched, whiny moan.

“I don’t fucking care.” Jake grits out, licking his thumb and dropping it to circle your clit. Your body jolts, the pain of overstimulation finally melting away to fiery pleasure.

Josh’s moans grow louder, the sound of his fist over his cock matching the pace of Jake’s hips – brutally fast and unforgiving. Your name falls from between his lips, interrupted only by groans and whimpers as he brings himself to the edge yet again.

"Cum for us, baby. Make a mess." Josh encourages, his hand never slowing.

"Give it to me. Come on, angel." Jake's demand is firm but his voice wavers and cracks as he holds himself back.

The band that has been building and building in your lower belly finally snaps and your whole body goes taut, your muscles contracting and shaking uncontrollably as your release washes over you. Jake’s pace finally falters, his hips stuttering and a loud, feral groan falling from between his plump lips as he finally finishes. Josh’s voice rings out as he paints his hand and belly, his own release hitting him at the sight of you.

–

As the fog of lust and wanton, filthy desire finally begins to dissipate, the three of you are left lying there trying to get your breathing back under control. As harshly as Jake had been fucking into you just moments before, he’s delicate and soft as he slowly pulls out of you. His hands caress your sides, his rough fingertips ghosting over your skin and making goosebumps rise in their wake. Josh sits up and leans forward to brush your sweaty hair from your forehead.

You smile lazily up at them, body still buzzing with pleasure but tiredness leaching into your muscles.

“Better now?” You murmur, a lazy smile on your lips.

“Infinitely.” Josh answers you, eyes glittering.

“Thank you, angel.” Jake says, pressing a feather light kiss to your belly. “So good for us.”

“The best, even.” Josh adds, tone equally soft as Jake’s kiss. “And all ours.”

“All yours.” Is all your tired brain can come up with to answer. And it's the truth. You’re theirs. Completely.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

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