#like he’s smiling at me from across the room at a party

[artdcnaldson]

changeover || art donaldson x reader ; patrick zweig x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex x2, fingering, f!recieving oral), drinking, pining after people you can’t have, a dash of reader x tashi, sprinkles of patrick x art, porn WITH plot

Summary: your ‘casual’ fling with art isn’t working for you anymore, which sucks because you probably love the guy. enter a freshly heartbroken patrick to take your mind off of things.

FALL 2006

You knew exactly why Art Donaldson refused to acknowledge that you were an item. You could see it clearly across the room— the way you were cast to the shadows while he followed Tashi around like a lost puppy.  

It made sense, even if it made your chest ache. Tashi was gorgeous, and was acing her classes, and was going to go pro soon and become a beautiful, all-American sports icon. And you were just some girl he’d met because he needed help understanding the reading for class. 

You’d known each other for months by then— hooking up, going on dates that ‘weren’t dates,’ spending most of your time together. And you stayed firmly in the no-labels zone. But you weren’t bitter. It was totally fine, being treated like a girlfriend in all but name. 

Art laughed and leaned into Tashi. It was totally fine.

You were nursing a beer in a red solo cup and trying your best to look friendly and approachable. The only reason you were even at the party was because Art had brought you, so you should’ve felt grateful. You should’ve been having fun.

But just as soon as you’d arrived, he’d slipped away with a promise to be right back. It had been over an hour, so it seemed like you had very different definitions of right back.

“Looks like your boyfriend stole my girlfriend.” You turned to see Patrick, tanned from his time on tour. He was only going to be at Stanford for the weekend before taking off for a challenger a state over, which meant he needed to capitalize on any chance to spend time with Art and Tashi. 

Unfortunately, you’d both been ditched.

“Art isn’t my boyfriend,” you said pointedly, maybe a little too quickly. 

Patrick knew better. The last time he came to visit, he’d interrupted a pseudo date night between the two of you (which was a nice way of saying he walked in on the two of you in Art’s dorm while his best friend was was knuckles deep in you). The rest of that night wound up being spent passing around mixed drinks made with cheap vodka and whatever you could get from the nearest vending machine. You overheard the it’s casual, nothing serious conversation they’d had through the ajar door while you bought more Powerade and Red Bull in the hall. 

But you were being so understanding and cool about that. 

Patrick narrowed his eyes slightly. “Really?” The corner of his mouth tugged upwards for a moment before he wrapped his lips around a beer can. He tried to hide it, but you saw. 

You chewed on your lip, stomach twisting with nerves and curiosity. He was probably just messing with you, trying to get your thoughts all muddled up about Art because it was fun. Still, you couldn’t help but ask the burning question echoing through your mind. “Did Art say something to you? About us, I mean.”

The question felt pathetic. A stupid, desperate girl begging to know if the guy she liked felt the same way. 

Patrick shrugged, leaning against the wall bearing the portraits of the ghosts of frat brothers’ past. “Not directly. But you’re here together, right? And he’s still seeing you.”

“I guess,” you replied with a huff, embarrassment burning hot in your chest. 

“If you’re worried about Tashi, don’t be,” Patrick said, sparing a glance in her direction. When you looked towards Art, and the way he was smiling and laughing and looked so natural beside her, a frown turned your lips. Patrick nudged your arm and offered a smile. “Hey, I’m serious. Nothing’s gonna happen there. Trust me.”

It should’ve felt nice. A total reassurance from the person who knew Art best. But it did nothing to quell the turmoil twisting in the pit of your stomach. Because if he really did feel that way, why was he over there with her?

Tashi Duncan. So beautiful, radiant, and perfect that she had total control over two men. Your paths didn’t cross much, outside of Art, and that was rare since he liked to keep you two apart. 

But there was a part of you that knew that Tashi would’ve been able to make you melt with one look, one smile, one word. You wanted to experience what Art did. You wanted to know what Patrick knew, and what Art was jealous of. Or maybe you wanted something of your own too, something to keep Art out of. 

“I need another drink,” you said suddenly, meeting Patrick’s gaze. “Do you wanna come with me?” Patrick’s eyes flitted quickly towards Tashi, where she bantered with Art and the rest of the tennis team. 

There was something in his expression you found incredibly familiar. That pang of jealousy. The ache of not belonging just right. The look was gone quickly, replaced by a toothy smile. “Sure. I could use something stronger.”

——

An hour later, Tashi left with Patrick, and Art quickly decided to take you back to his own dorm. 

His lips were insistent against yours, kissing you hungrily, completely dissonant to the delicate way he tugged down the zipper of your dress. His fingers were warm where they brushed along the line of your spine. His tongue brushed against yours, tasting of beer and mint gum.

“What were you doing with him?” He murmured against your lips just as he peeled off the cheap, bodycon dress you’d gotten from Forever 21. It was tossed across the room, to be lost in the mess of practice duffles and empty water bottles and dirty laundry. The only time he parted his lips from you was to lift you onto his bed and slot himself between your thighs. 

His tongue licked into your mouth possessively, claiming you as his from the inside out. You gasped as one of his hands kneaded your breast, panting open-mouthed against his lips. “Who?” You managed weakly, your mind completely blank except for Art, Art, Art. And maybe a tiny voice in the back of your head that was still thinking about the Tashi of it all.

“Patrick.” His voice was soft against the tender skin of your jaw. “I saw you two talk, then you disappeared for, like, an hour.” His teeth nipped gently at your pulse point as he nuzzled against your throat, awaiting your answer. 

So he had been watching? He was with her, but he was still thinking about you. It made your heart flutter. You moaned softly as his hand slid between your thighs, teasing you through your panties. “Getting drinks,” you managed feebly. “Fuck, Art, I can’t concentrate while y—“

You gasped at the feeling of his fingers slipping beneath the band of your panties, teasing you with delicate touches. “Just drinks? For an hour?”

A strangled gasp escaped you as fingers slick with your arousal met your clit. When your eyes opened in surprise, you found Art staring right back. His touch was relentless, flooding your senses with pleasure as he demanded an answer. “We were in the living room,” you managed between soft pants and moans. “He was telling me about the— god— about the tour.”

Art’s expression flickered slightly— a tiny furrow forming between his brows. Was it doubt, or possessiveness, or anger? Before you could figure it out, his lips were against your throat, your panties were pushed to the side, and he was easing two fingers inside of your cunt.

“Fuck,” you cried out, grasping onto his shoulders. French manicured nails scratched at the pastel-colored polo he wore— why was he still wearing his clothes? Soft, keening moans slipped past your lips as he fucked you with his fingers. Every thought of him preferring Tashi or him leading you on slipped from the front of your mind as his thumb rubbed at your clit.

With a free hand, you palmed him over his pants, relishing in the way he panted against your warm skin. You made quick work of the button of his jeans— you knew your way around him like the back of your hand. He was warm, pulsing in your delicate grip when your hand slipped beneath the band of his briefs. Slick at his tip with need. 

He moaned against your pulse point, nuzzling against you as you began to jerk him off in time with each pump of his fingers. 

“You smell like him,” he groaned, nose pressed to the spot just beneath your ear as his hips bucked into your fist with a new sort of desperation. You didn’t have to ask who he meant. His tongue slipped out, lapping at you briefly before sucking a bruise into the delicate skin there. 

His fingers flexed so they brushed against the sweet spot within you. Your eyes rolled back and a sob of pleasure clawed its way from your throat. “Need you,” you pleaded, equal parts a thoughtless cry and a demand.

And who was he to deny either of you that? A pitiful whine escaped your lips when he slipped his fingers from within you and moved your hand from him. He stood to clumsily pull off the rest of his clothes at the same time that you quickly shimmied off your panties and tossed them to the side.

”You’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned as he joined you back on the bed, slotting himself between your legs. You were so pliant and sweet beneath him, looking up at him with adoring doe-eyes and a pretty smile on your spit-slick lips. He should’ve been perfectly content.

As he parted your thighs, stroking his dick as he lined himself up with your entrance, he wondered if Tashi and Patrick were doing the same exact thing at that same exact moment. He could imagine it clearly— Tashi, splayed out on her bed, and Patrick right at home between her thighs; sinking in, faces contorting with pleasure. Before he could stop himself, a soft moan slipped past his lips at the mental image. 

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he sheathed himself within you, and he buried his face into your neck. Fuck. You really did smell like Patrick. The shitty Axe body spray that was supposed to smell like chocolate, and the lingering scent of cigarettes. 

You moaned prettily, pussy squeezing him like a vise. Manicured nails scratched against his back, delicate enough that the marks would probably disappear by that time the next day. He was so used to Patrick lounging shirtless around their hotel rooms after tournaments— severe-looking scratch marks looking like angel wings against his pale skin. He always wore them like a badge of honor the night after he snuck off with some pretty girl he’d set his sights on. That’s how you know you’re doing it right. 

Why was he thinking about Patrick?

He tried to lose himself in you— in how pretty you were beneath him, the sweet words falling from your lips with each thrust. Feels so good, Art. ‘M so close already. Gonna make me cum. 

When he looked down at you, your mouth hung open, lips shiny with spit, begging to be kissed. His mouth met yours messily and you both moaned into the kiss. He moved a hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit as he bullied his cock into your inviting cunt. 

You came with a string of moans and expletives that made the person next door bang on the wall out of annoyance. Art had to pull out as soon as he felt you start to squeeze around him. All it took was a few clumsy strokes and he was spilling onto your stomach with an almost embarrassing whine. 

You both lay there catching your breath and cursing the shitty air conditioning in the dorm. He wiped the mess of cum off of your stomach with an old tee shirt that was hanging off the side of his desk and tossed it to the side to be dealt with later.

“You’re so gross,” you mumbled with a tiny laugh, reaching down to grab your underwear from your floor. After you pulled them back on, you watched him dig through a pile of clothes in a papasan chair for a passable pair of pajama pants. An amused smile played on your lips at the sight. “Do I need to buy you a hamper?”

He held up a pair of pajama pants to examine them, shrugged, and pulled them on. “I have one, it’s just full.” A boyish grin spread across his lips as he crossed the room towards his dresser. He tossed a random tee shirt from the drawer in your direction and climbed on the bed, grinning down at you. “See? I have clean clothes.”

You laughed as you pulled the shirt over your head, then turned on your side to face him. His eyes flickered from your face, down to the shirt, then back. You wrinkled your face in confusion and peered down at the shirt. 

“What? What does it say?” You asked with a laugh.  You held it out, squinting to make sense of the graphic— faded and upside down. Finally, your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! I thought you were more of a Maroon 5 and Justin Timberlake guy. I’ve never even seen a Blink-182 CD in your stuff before.”

Art cleared his throat and shrugged, thumbing the bottom of the tee shirt absentmindedly. “I went with Patrick a few years back.”

A smile turned your lips. “It’s sweet that you two are such good friends.” You reached over, brushing his curls from his forehead. He turned, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Did you and Tashi have fun tonight?” The insecurity in your words was palpable.

Art shrugged. “A party’s a party, y’know?” He leaned into your touch, letting you play with his hair. “Just lost track of time. I won’t run off on you next time.”

You chewed your lip shyly. “I think it’d be nice for the three of us to hang out sometime,” you said, watching his expression to gauge his reaction. 

“C’mere,” he said with a tired smile, effectively avoiding your suggestion. When he pulled you against his side, he nuzzled his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His breath tickled with each exhale, which made you squirm, but every so often he’d place a chaste kiss on the skin there and you’d forget why you wanted to ask him to move.

In the morning, when you woke up to his alarm clock blaring a local radio station, you realized it was the first time he’d let you stay the night. 

SPRING 2007

After your second drink, you decided that Art Donaldson had hung you out to dry for the last time. Well, probably the last time. 

Most likely not the last time. 

Knowing yourself, you’d be clinging to his side like a lost puppy in a few weeks’ time, if you even had the dignity to give it that long. The second his attention turned to you again, you knew you’d be absolutely relishing in the special affection he always gave you when he was experiencing Tashi-related withdrawal.

You were so stupidly in love (or in lust, or in whatever) with him that you’d accept just about anything he could throw at you. 

No labels, just casual? Fine. Ignoring you all night then conveniently remembering you exist when he’s horny and ready to go back to his dorm? Whatever. You’re game. 

You’d gone to every match, watched a few practices. Helped him study for exams, let him borrow the notecards you’d painstakingly written over the course of the semester. Jesus, you even wrote a few essays for him when his schedule got crowded and he just couldn’t manage.

All you asked in return was a date to a stupid formal, and he ditched you last minute for Tashi. Again. And you couldn’t even get pissed about it without feeling guilty, because she’d fucking gotten injured and it wasn’t her fault that the guy you were into was carrying a torch for her instead.

“You’ve been staring down the Reese’s Pieces for the last five minutes.” The familiar voice startled you from your sulking. The world filtered back in suddenly— the blaring music, the smell of cigarettes and pot, the chatter of people wandering in and out of neighboring dorms. When you turned, Patrick Zweig was leaning against the vending machine beside you, carrying a large Tennis bag and backpack on both of his shoulders. “Do you need five bucks?”

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” You asked, brows furrowed with confusion. “I heard about her match. I just figured that you’d…“ You trailed off as you noticed the thinly veiled kicked-puppy expression he wore. “Oh.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s… it’s over. Did you want the Reese’s, or not?” 

“No,” you shook your head and laughed. “I just needed…” you trailed off. What was it you needed, again?

You needed Art. A date to the formal. You needed to feel desirable and cared for. You needed him to get his head out of his ass and just fucking commit. You needed to tell Art to fuck off and find another groupie. You needed…

“Another drink?” Patrick suggested.

You nodded eagerly like that’s what you’d been thinking all along. “Yes. Another drink.” You paused, glancing at his bags. “Do you want to drop your things in my room first? My roommate is in Iowa, or something. She won’t mind.”

Your dorm was decorated in shades of pink and green, with a ruffled bedspread and faux fur pillows and blankets. You bent down to retrieve two bottles of Smirnoff Ice from a mini fridge. Patrick did his best to look away like a gentleman would. 

Well, he did his best. It wasn’t exactly his fault that his options were to look at your tight jeans or the bulletin board above your desk that was essentially an Art Donaldson shrine. 

Pretty pink push pins held up a photo of the two of you after one of his matches, both beaming at the camera. Then there were little notes he’d written you in his boyish scrawl. Tickets to movies you’d gone to see and tickets to his matches. 

“Here,” you said, drawing his attention back to you, thankfully in an upright position. You’d already popped the bottle caps off the radioactive blue drink you handed him. You were chewing your lip shyly, sweetly. “It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?”

“What?” He took a drink and nearly grimaced at the sweetness. After he finished it, he’d need to go find something stronger.

You sighed and took a long drink yourself. “I dunno, the whole… thing. Art.” You absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your shirt. “I mean, what girl with any self-respect lets a guy just screw her for months with no commitment?”

“Maybe self-respect is overrated.” He laughed and stepped closer. “Full disclosure? I only came here hoping that I could fuck someone and spend the night in their dorm. Free booze was a plus.”

“We’re in the same boat then,” You said, gazing up at him through your lashes. “We’re both jilted lovers who need a distraction.”

You tilted the bottom of the bottle up, chugging down the contents. When you were done, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and rolled your neck out. “Bottoms up,” you said with a coy smile. “Let’s find something stronger.”

——

An hour later, something by the Pussycat Dolls was blaring through a set of speakers in a darkened common area. You were the fun kind of tipsy, where you started to care less about everyone else and just found yourself buzzed in that light, easy kind of way. You danced to the beat without a care in the world while Patrick sat on the arm of a couch and nursed his beer. 

His eyes were glued to your body as you moved, almost hypnotic beneath the red Christmas lights that had been stapled around the ceiling. Your shirt had ridden up, revealing a sliver of stomach that you either didn’t notice or didn’t care to cover up. 

The only thought running through his head? Art was a fucking idiot. 

You glanced over at him and nodded for him to join you. He didn’t move, so, not one to give up, you joined him over on the couch. When he went for a drink, you tipped up the bottom of the beer can and forced him to finish it, even as it spilled past his lips and down his chin. 

“Thanks,” he deadpanned, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

With a pleased smile, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the middle of the room to dance.

He shook his head as you tried to make him dance— your hands on his hips, pushing and pulling and trying and failing to make him move. “No, no. I don’t dance,” he explained, as firmly as he could stand to be.

“Because you can’t? Or because you think you’re too cool?” You asked, raising a brow. He rolled his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “C’mon, if you dance, I’ll tell you a secret.”

That did make him laugh. “What are you, five?”

With a shrug, you took his hands into yours and moved them to your hips. There was a hesitance in his touch, at first. But then his fingers splayed against exposed skin, and you were so warm. Your hips began moving to the beat beneath his hands. “See? We’re dancing,” you said, peering up at him through long lashes.

You looked genuinely victorious when he finally started dancing… kind of. It was less of an action and more of an acceptance. It had been abundantly obvious since the moment he walked into your dorm room that you wanted to end the night with him. Maybe it was because you thought it would hurt Art, or maybe it was because he was there and he was feeling the exact same things you were.

He’d done his best to resist out of some lingering sense that he could repair things with Tashi, and the hope that maybe Art’s spite would fade and they’d be friends again.

Despite skipping the whole college thing, Patrick wasn’t an idiot. He knew better. The second Tashi fell on that court, both of those doors slammed in his face.

And you were so close to him that he could smell the liquor on your breath. And Victoria’s Secret body spray. Mostly the liquor, though. He was barely moving, but you— you were something else. Hips moving against the thigh he’d slotted between your legs, arms trailing up his chest so you could sling them around his neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer. Even though you were grinding against each other like two horny middle-schoolers at their first dance, he’d had enough to drink that he didn’t really give a fuck. When he moved his hands from your hips to grab your ass, you gasped and laughed like it was the best thing in the world.

Your body moved so effortlessly that anything he could have possibly done would’ve looked clunky and clumsy. He groaned when you brushed against him just right, and he could tell by your smug expression that you knew exactly how you were affecting him. 

You leaned in, chest to chest. “Can I tell you the secret now?” You whispered, lips brushing against the line of his jaw. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I think it’d be a bad idea for us to fuck. We’re both in a bad place.”

“Mhmm. Bad idea,” he echoed. He wanted to reach out and grab your jaw, to tilt your face up and kiss you. One of your hands had slipped beneath the hem of his (Tashi’s) shirt, just barely teasing the skin there. It made him shiver and lean into the heat of your touch.

“But I still want to.” You sounded so earnest, so needy. Like you’d take anything he’d give you and thank him for it. “We can use each other to feel better, right? Just a nice, warm body and a rush of dopamine.”

It was exactly what Patrick had come to the fucking dorm rager for. To feel wanted and desired. For someone to look at him like he wasn’t actively failing at the one thing he was supposed to be the best at. 

But he was good at other things.

You guided him through the crowded hallway, way more packed than they had been before you’d started dancing. It was getting later, more people were falling for the siren song of R&B and beer. You were a siren of a different making— with much more dangerous consequences than a hangover.

It almost felt wrong to be back in your innocent, frilly little dorm with the intention of fucking your brains out. But the looks you were giving him were enough proof that he wasn’t the only pervert. Before you could get too far, he pinned you up against the door, displacing a dry-erase calendar in the process. 

You glanced down, eyes flitting towards the hearts around tomorrow’s date, anticipating the formal that Art had flaked on. Without looking back, you kicked the dry-erase board out of the way, a problem for later. 

His lips met yours in a messy clash— teeth knocking slightly until you found a rhythm with each other. Patrick Zweig kissed like he’d been at war for fucking years and had just returned home. He kissed like he had crawled out of the desert and the only promise of water could be found on your tongue. 

You’d never been kissed with that level of need and desperation— that desire— and you fucking loved it. The taste of his tongue licking into your mouth, the rumble of a moan against your own lips.

His hands were moving beneath your shirt, pushing it up as he went. A pretty whine slipped past your spit-slick lips as he squeezed your tits over your bra. Your hands stayed busy undoing his jeans. He moaned into your mouth when your fingers barely brushed against the bulge through the denim. 

“That feel good?” You teased, practically breathing the words into his lungs as you slipped your hand into his boxers. He groaned in response as your hand wrapped around him and pumped slowly.  There was something addicting about his need— you relished in the pulse of him, warm and bucking into your grip. And you wanted more. You wanted to be the one to make him come undone. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

His head fell back slightly as you brushed your thumb along his tip, the movement accompanied by another soft groan. The way you peered up at him with an earnest need to please made hot desire thrum within him.

“You could start by taking these clothes off,” he said, fingers roaming to tug at the strap of your bra. You started to move, slipping your hand from his boxers. Then you stopped.

“You’re not gonna help?” You asked coyly, goosebumps forming where his fingers trailed along your side, teasing at the band of the bra. 

That made a tiny smirk turn at his lips. “Does Art help?” It shouldn’t have turned him on— that little flash of longing for Art in your eyes. But it did. You nodded, shifting slightly to encourage more of Patrick’s touch. “Lift your arms.”

As easy as anything, you obeyed. No banter, no push and pull for control. It was so different than what he had with Tashi (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about), and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how it always was for you and Art (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about either). 

He tossed your shirt to the side and moved a single hand to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with a quick movement that he’d perfected at sixteen. Painstakingly slow, he pushed each strap down your arms, until it fell at your feet and exposed your tits to the overzealous AC of the Stanford dorms. 

Your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and his mouth watered in a near-Pavlovian response to the sight. His hands moved back to your chest, so he could thumb over the sensitive buds and relish in the way you shivered.

The wood of the door was cold against your shoulders as you arched into his touch. Manicured nails fumbled with the button to your jeans— you twisted and shimmied them off before kicking them to the side.

Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you over to the bed. A grin played at your lips as he practically dropped you onto it, making a decorative pillow fall to the floor. 

“It was only, like, five steps,” you said with a laugh. Patrick shrugged and made quick work of his clothes. You sat up on your elbows to watch him shuck off his pants, then awkwardly hop on one foot at a time to remove his shoes and socks.

When he finally joined you on the bed, he was clad only in his boxers, which were sporting an almost comically large tent. He positioned himself over you, that shit-eating grin ever present on his face. “Can I go down on you?”

You laughed lightly in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

He nodded. “As a heart attack.” He nuzzled against your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, lemme make you feel good, okay? I live for this shit.”

You giggled, pushing his face away. “Yeah. Fuck. You can.”

He trailed his lips down your jaw, then your sternum. He stopped only briefly to suck each nipple into his mouth, making you squirm and arch into him. Your hand moved into his hair, and he moaned against your tit as you tugged slightly. 

You watched him kiss down your stomach and peel your panties down your legs with his teeth through half-lidded eyes. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he slowly kissed up one leg.

The sight made your stomach flip— the sheer desire of it all. Your mind flickered to Tashi, as it seemed to do more and more. Tashi got this same sight, felt the same lips on her skin, and heard the same groans and pants. You could’ve laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. At that moment, with Patrick on top of you, you were closer to Tashi than Art could even dream of.

A tap on the inside of your thigh was his wordless way of telling you to open up for him, to get out of your head and come back to earth. Your tummy fluttered as you spread your legs more and he slotted himself there with an arm slung across your stomach. 

“Fuck,” he said lowly, peering up at you. “You get this wet from just kissing?”

Heat burned in your cheeks at his obvious amusement, but you could tell he loved how responsive you were. His tongue traced you from your hole to your clit, making you cry out and twist your fingers into his curls. Quick, teasing flicks against your clit made your thighs tremble and squeeze around his shoulders. You were so fucking sensitive that it made him want to tear you apart.

It was messy— a sloppy mix of his spit and your arousal as he made out with your pussy. His nose brushed against your clit as he nuzzled deeper into you, moaning as his fervor was rewarded with more of your juices spilling onto his tongue. 

There was no method or precision to it, even though you were quite sure he could’ve had you coming undone beneath his fingers in no time at all. Patrick relished in every tiny reaction— in feeling your thighs around his head and your fingers in his hair. Relished in the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling of your slick smeared across his face. 

Your back was arching off the bed, nails digging just shy of painfully into his scalp. 

He opened you up with one finger, then a second. Your cunt accepted the intrusion with ease, like you were made for it. For him. He crooked his fingers just so and you cried out pathetically. He pressed there, constant and firmly and your fingers tugged harder on his hair, moans increasing in pitch as your breaths came in pants. 

“I’m— I— fuck—“ words failed you as his lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked, making spots dance across your vision. In the absence of words, all you could manage were fucked out sobs and pitiful little whines.

Slick walls fluttered around his fingers, and your clit pulsed against his tongue. You were so easy to get worked up— a toy for him to wind up and set into motion. You came with a moan that would’ve made a weaker man cum inside of his boxers, your cunt spasming around the intrusion of his fingers. 

When he sat back and cleaned his fingers in his mouth, you were watching through half-lidded, hazy eyes. Tiny pieces of hair were plastered to your face and forehead, and you gave a breathless giggle as you looked up at him. 

“Holy shit,” you said with a grin as he shucked off his boxers and kicked them off somewhere across the room. 

“Feel good?” He asked, and pressed a kiss to your hip bone. You nodded wordlessly, feeling dizzy with need. “Gonna give me another one?”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, peering up at him with wide eyes. The tip of his nose was shiny with your arousal, which made warmth spread across your cheeks. With a sheepish laugh, you reached up and wiped it away with your thumb. There wasn’t much you could do about the mess on his mouth and chin. “You’re all messy.”

He kissed you slow— leaving his tongue against yours, making you taste yourself mixed with his spit. It was less of a kiss than a series of slow laves of his tongue against yours. It felt dirty, and a little gross, but you couldn’t help but relish in it. You’d never kissed Art like that, would’ve never even dreamed of it. Patrick was an entirely different animal. 

You stayed like that for a while— just completely lost in the feel of him warm on top of you, grinding his cock against your cunt as he planted messy kisses to your lips. 

“Condom?” He mumbled the words against your lips when he finally grew impatient.

“Mhmm. Bedside table.”

He fumbled inside the drawer, grabbing glasses cleaning wipes two seperate times before he finally found a foil packet in the bottom of the drawer.  

He held it between two fingers, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You sure this’ll fit me? I’m bigger than Art.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not by that much.”

“Where it counts, though.” His smirk was smarmy as he tore open the foil with his teeth and rolled the condom down his length. He spat in his hand and stroked himself as he peered down at you, like he hadn’t quite decided how he wanted you yet. 

“Turn over,” he finally said with a pat to the meat of your thigh. You did as he said, almost hesitant as you turned over and settled onto your forearms, arching your back slightly. “Does Art ever fuck you like this?”

He held the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you with the tiniest amount of pressure. You took in a shaky breath and shifted, eager for more that he wasn’t going to give you yet. “Do you have to bring him up right now?”

No. He knew he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help himself at the same time. The thought of his Art in this same bed with you made it all so much hotter for him. He wanted to know how Art had fucked you, he wanted every detail burned in his brain. He wanted to be better, or maybe just be there with the two of you. 

It had gotten close. Once. Art was definitely fingering you under a blanket while the three of you watched a movie on his laptop across the room. Patrick’s thigh was touching yours— he could feel the way your muscles tensed and shook as Art played with you. He was close enough to hear the hitch of your breath. 

And if that hadn’t been enough to give it away, Art’s stupid fucking smirk and the obvious way his arm was moving would have.

He didn’t do anything then, but maybe he should’ve. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” He was slow as he sank into you, inch by inch. It could’ve been the position, or maybe his cocky bravado was completely founded, but he did feel bigger than you were used to. A soft moan was punched from your lips when he was finally buried to the hilt— your breath came in soft pants as you adjusted to the feeling of him. 

With your face pressed into your pillows, each breath you took flooded your senses with the smell of Art’s cologne. You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut as your thoughts were overwhelmed with him.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ tight,” he groaned. His fingers dimpled your skin where he held onto you. He moved one hand to rub the base of your spine in a way that could probably have been tender, on another day. You moaned pathetically into the pillows. “What? You need something?” 

One shallow, teasing thrust made your toes curl. “More,” was all you could manage.

“Can you take it?” Patrick cooed, smugness was practically dripping from his tongue. “Because I can go slow if you need—“

“You’re such an asshole. Just fuck m—”

A rough snap of Patrick’s hips cut you off suddenly. You cried out, grasping onto the bedspread feebly as he began to fuck you in earnest. 

Each thrust made the cheap, university-provided bed frame slam against the wall. The decorations you had hung up rattled, threatening to tumble right onto the floor and shatter, but neither of you even noticed. The moans slipping past your lips were pornographic.

But the sounds escaping you were nothing compared to the noises Patrick was making. Art had made an off-handed comment, once, about how much of a slut Patrick could be. You hadn’t really seen why until you got to hear the desperate, debauched noises he could make.

You slipped a hand between your thighs to rub at your clit and the feeling stole the air from your lungs. Your eyes rolled back, ass jiggling in time with each thrust.

Through it all, the memory of Art in this bed clung to you. Art, burying himself in the soft, wet heat between your thighs, flushed down to his chest and panting softly. His hungry kisses, melting sweet on your tongue like cotton candy. The whines that slipped past his lips, better than the prettiest music you could imagine. 

With each brutal thrust of Patrick’s cock into you, he punched out soft ah, ah, ahs from your lips. In your head, you just heard Art, Art, Art. Maybe that’s what you meant to say. 

You were probably in love with him. You were fucking his best friend. And it wasn’t even that simple. Patrick and Art and Tashi and somewhere between it all, you lingered. It was a giant clusterfuck of feelings and lust that you’d somehow tangled yourself inside of. Wanting someone so much, you want whoever has them just as badly. 

Maybe everything would’ve been a lot cleaner if you’d just locked the four of you into a room and stayed until every bit of tension had been fucked out. The idea of it all made you moan softly into the pillows. 

Patrick pulled you up suddenly, back flush against his chest as he continued to fuck into you. One hand grabbed at your jaw, turning you so he could press his lips to yours again, and the other squeezed at your tits. His mouth did a perfect job of muffling your moans— Patrick relished in feeling your pretty whines vibrate against his lips. 

“You feel so fucking perfect.” His words made heat flutter through you. “Need t’ feel you cum again. You have it in you, yeah? I can feel it.”

You nodded, eager to please. Pleasure was lapping at every nerve, lightning-hot. Your fingers rubbed faster at your clit as he pounded up into you. The whines escaping you were pathetic as your body crawled closer and closer to the edge. 

“Close,” you gasped out. Patrick licked into your open mouth, kissing you sloppily as you set a punishing pace on your poor, oversensitive clit. “So close— f-fuck—“

Your orgasm hit you suddenly. You clawed at his arm with your free hand, desperately seeking purchase as euphoria pulsed through your veins. 

“That’s it,” he groaned, his breath hot against your jaw. “Fuck— squeezin’ me so tight I can barely move— god—“

Your eyes were half-lidded as he worked you through it, rhythm only just beginning to falter as his finish approached. He pushed you back onto your stomach, manhandling your hips so your back was arched just like he wanted. 

You were reduced to whimpers and whines by the time he finally came— buried as deep as he could get, grip bruising on your hips. A few shallow thrusts were all he could manage before he pulled out, collapsing on beside you. 

You were catching your breath while he disposed of the condom in the cute trash can beside your bed, filled with gummy snack wrappers and broken pencils and old class notes. It felt like sacrilege. He laid back down, and you pulled a throw blanket over the two of you. 

With his head against the pillows, you wondered if he could also sense the phantom of Art’s presence there in the bed. Somewhere between you, forcing distance.

“So, when do you leave for your next tournament?” You asked. Unconsciously, you reached out to play with his hair, the same way you did to Art in times like these. “Soon, I bet. You usually don’t stay long.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” He asked, a tiny smile playing at his lips. His chest was still heaving with exertion. 

You shook your head. “I don’t want to get rid of you, Patrick.” He melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

In the morning, you’d wake up squished against Patrick’s side with the taste of sugary alcohol on your tongue. When you picked up your phone to see three missed calls from Art, it was easier to pretend that you hadn’t seen them at all.

thanks for reading :) if you enjoyed, please lmk by sending an ask, or whatever you wanna do <3

#challengers 2024 #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #challengers fanfic #my writing

[builtbybrokenbells]

Poolsides & Pizza Boxes | JTK (1 of 2)

A friendly hangout and an innocent drinking game turns into a troublesome affair.

Read part two here.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 13.5k

Warnings: sexual situations, mentions of sexual frustrations, lots of sexual tension, like one smidgen of dry humping, embarrassing crushes, kissing/making out, awkward situations, play fighting, lots of friendly teasing, drinking, smoking, partying, swearing, a touch of angst, lots of fluff, sorry if i miss any! (stick around for part two for the rest 😉)

hi lovelies, I had a blast writing this! part two obviously is the more climactic part, but I hope you enjoy this for now. The next one should be out soon 🤍 as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

The summer sun was blinding, irritating your eyes as you shielded them with your hand. Your skin was warm, the cool pool water long forgotten and the droplets dried into a distant memory. The drink sitting in the cup holder of your patio chair was condensated, the ice inside melting the longer you sat, and the music blaring through your speaker was playing a song you hadn’t heard in a long time. The moment was perfect, the summer day exactly what you had dreamed of in the slump of work that only ever seemed to grow larger. What made it even better was the crowd of boys sitting poolside, their feet in the water and beer bottles in their hands.

As you sipped at your straw, you watched as one of them stood, the water running from his legs onto the brand new concrete panels on the ground. You looked upwards, your eyes settling on his face as he turned away from his brothers and took a step in your direction. His brown hair hung over his shoulders, framing his face and blowing softly in the barely-there breeze. You couldn’t help but feel your lips turn upwards into a smile as he continued on his path, standing in front of you and casting a shadow over your chair.

“The sun looks good on you, you know.” He said, his hands anchored on his hips as he gazed down upon your lax position in the chair.

“What does that mean, Jacob?” You raised an eyebrow, looking over the top your sunglasses at him. There was a hint of a smile on his lips too, and you could see his skin of his chest and shoulders beginning to redden from the constant sunlight touching it.

“It means you look better in the sun than you do behind an office desk.” He continued, pushing an identical chair closer to you with his leg. He stopped when the arm collided with yours, sending the ice in your drink clinking against the plastic cup. He sat down, turning his head to look at you before speaking again. “It means we have to do this more often.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You sighed, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose. You rested your head against the wooden back of the chair, taking in a long breath. The summer air was sweet, lingering with the scent of the blossoming flowers Jake had helped you plant by the doorway just a few days prior. When the wind blew just right, you were hit in the face with his cologne still lingering on his skin, mixing with the last bit of sunscreen that refused to wash away after his pool escapades. The scent was familiar, it was comfortable, and it made you think of home.

“Makes me think you’re forgetting about me, sometimes.”

“Forgetting about you?” You scoffed, chuckling at the idea alone. “As if I could do that even if I wanted to. And how does that make any sense? You’re here every fuckin’ day anyway.” At that, he let out a laugh, one that shook his shoulders and echoed through the air.

“Yeah, but hanging out with you is much different than listening to you talk on a boring conference call from across the room.” He brought the cap of his beer to the edge of the arm on his chair. After a few seconds spent positioning it correctly, he slammed his hand down on top of it. The cap popped off, clanging down on the concrete, and bubbles overflowed from the neck of the bottle. With a mischievous smile, he flicked his hands towards you. You jumped in surprise as the cold liquid hit your warm skin, sending him a glare that spoke louder than any words. “You moved halfway across the country so you could be near us again, and all you do is work.”

“Mhm,” you let out a hum, your lips pressed tightly together as you wiped away the droplets of beer from your chest. “You travel all over the world for months at a time, but you don’t hear me complain about it.” He shot you an incredulous look, shaking his head in disbelief that you would even say such a thing.

“Yeah, I do actually. Every minute of every day that I’m gone.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” You dismissed him, closing your eyes as you fought back a smile.

“I can pull up the texts if you’d like,” he said, reaching for the patio table on the other side of you to grab his phone. As he did, you grabbed his wrist, holding his hand back so he could not proceed any further. “And the phone calls.” He let out a long breath, upping his extravagance to bring extra attention to his point. He didn’t cower under your hold, but he didn’t try to move again. “It always goes something like—‘oh, Jake, when are you coming home? I miss you so much’ or ‘only three more sleeps!’” He put on an airy, high pitched voice as he recounted the things you said to him most often.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re going to do this?” You asked, sitting up in your chair and turning towards him. “You don’t want me to start.” You warned, still holding his wrist tightly in your hand.

“Oh, yeah, whatever.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed. “What about you? Calling me at three in the morning ‘cause you couldn’t sleep, or when you have a little too much to drink and you miss the sound of my voice?”

“Yeah, like I’d miss the sound of your annoying little ‘Jacob Kiszka’s’! You’re worse than my mom when you call!” He put an extra flair on his voice as he imitated you, striking a flame of annoyance within you.

“Maybe if you’d behave yourself when you’re gone, I wouldn’t have to—“

“Hey!” Josh shouted, turning his head back towards the two of you. “Stop fighting with each other. You’re ruining the vibes.” He motioned to the still, blue water of the pool, illuminated with sun rays.

“He started it.” You grumbled, letting go of his arm and pushing it away from yourself at the same time.

“I don’t care who started it, I’m finishing it!” Josh snipped, taking a sip of his drink. “Worse than children, the two of you.” He let out a disappointed tsk.

“Yes, mom.” You hung your head low with faux shame.

“Sorry, mom.” Jake joined, copying your actions. When Josh turned back to the pool, you could see Jake peeking over at you through the strands of his hair. You bit down on the inside of your lip, stifling the laugh that was rising in your throat. Then, in a hushed whisper, you could hear a grating sound coming from his lips. When you strained to listen, you could he him muttering words, mocking his twin brother for his inability to have fun.

The laugh that tore from your chest was loud, irritating, and disruptive to everyone sitting in the immediate vicinity. Your shoulders shook and your stomach ached from the laughter coursing through you. Josh whipped his head back around, his eyes settling on Jake with a scowl on his lips.

“Is he making fun of me? I know he’s making fun of me.” Josh huffed, ready to argue worse than what the two of you were doing moments before.

“No, Josh. Pinky promise that nobody was making fun of you.” You gave him a sweet smile, sipping at your straw.

“You always take his side!” Josh accused, still joking but spewing some truth about the situation.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side!” You defended, raising your hands in the air.

“F’course you are, ‘cause your in love with him!” Josh grumbled, frustrated at your constant insistence on having Jake’s back and not his.

“I am not!” You exploded, looking to the chair beside you. Jake was unbothered by the thought, amused by the situation unfolding before his eyes, and happy the attention was off him and on you, instead.

“Are too!” Sam joined in, using his foot to reel in one of the pool floaties. As he did, he slid from the poolside on top of the tube. After he situated himself, he pushed himself away from the side and floated to the middle of the water.

“Do you hear yourselves? Are you insane?” You fought off the accusations like your life depended on it, your cheeks burning red and your stomach twisted with embarrassment.

You weren’t sure why it was such a sore subject, but every time they spoke the idea into existence, your whole body felt like it would explode if you didn’t get yourself out of the spotlight.

“Look at her, she’s blushing.” Daniel cackled, his head turned just enough to see your face.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jake cut in, realizing that you were more uncomfortable than they thought. “Josh, you’re just mad she broke up with you in the third grade. Let it go, man.” Jake said, watching as Josh’s expression dropped into one of great confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. His lips dipped into a frown, then he turned back towards the pool, lifting himself off the ground by his arms and sinking into the water.

Even if the other three knew they were in the right, they were never a match for the two of you when you joined forces against them.

When everyone distracted themselves with drinks and swimming, easily moving on from the moment of torment, Jake reached his arm out to you. He brushed the hair away from your shoulders, letting his hand rest on the back of your neck. The touch was calming, and when his fingers slipped into the hair at the nape of your neck, gently scratching over your head, you nearly forgot what had you upset in the first place. Your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned back into the chair.

“They’re just being assholes, trouble.” The nickname fell from his lips, smooth like silk and sweet as sugar. You could listen to him call you that all day and you were certain you would never get tired of it. “They don’t mean it, they just like to get under your skin.”

“I know.” You hummed, lost in the feeling of his hand on your neck. “Just don’t like it when they team up on me, is all. I know they’re just joking.”

And you did; they had been joking about the same thing since the summer before freshman year of high school, when you had spent every single day following Jake around like a second shadow. It would have hurt you more had he not been doing the exact same thing to you, and it would have been unbearable if you actually did feel that way about him. Back then, you laughed it off, and so did he. Both of you knew the notion was incredibly incorrect, and neither of you were too concerned about the constant teasing that came along with having a best friend of the opposite sex in a small town during your high school years.

In fact, nothing really bothered you much. There was nothing in the world that seemed to be able to tear the two of you apart, and no rumors or suspicious whispers ever changed the dynamics of your relationship. He was your best friend, and to this day, the simple fact remained the same. After a fateful encounter at the soccer field at the school on a warm July morning, the two of you got to know each other beyond what’s expected of familiar faces. You realized you had a whole hell of a lot in common, and within seconds, you realized that friendship with Jake Kiszka was a prized possession you never wanted to give up.

You knew each other beforehand, seeing each other in class and of course, the disastrous heartbreak of his twin brother in the fall of third grade (the relationship only lasted two weeks, but he really liked you), but never explored the possibilities of friendship until that summer.

Since then, you had never known anything else.

You spent days in his bedroom, watching him (poorly) play the new guitar his dad bought for him and watching movies that would quickly turn into memories that served you great comfort. He would walk your dog with you, and occasionally get ice cream with you at the corner store down the street when you both managed to scrape together enough change. When the school year started, you were his crutch for academics, and he was your’s for anything social. Before him, you didn’t have many friends, and the idea of high school always struck a sensitive nerve within you. With him by your side, you never felt like you had to worry about a thing. He held your hand through your first (real) heartbreak, and you helped him practice asking out girls to the school dances.

As you grew older, life changed, but never your friendship. Summers were the same, only with a little more freedom. You went on road trips when you felt your third-hand car could survive it, and got your older brother to buy you booze for house parties. You dated plenty of people, but none of the relationships ever lasted. Plenty of tears were shed, lots of memories were made, and one thing forever remained constant; his presence in your life, and his unwavering support. He wiped away the tears, shared the bottle of vodka, and always knew where to find you when a slow song came over the loudspeaker so he could get at least one dance in at the parties.

It was a relationship everyone yearned for, yet not many got to enjoy. It was a love that was never broken, and one that was never misused. It was the knowledge of never being alone, and knowledge that you never had to fall, because there would always be someone to catch you. More importantly, it was knowing that even if you did fall, and if you fell as far as rock bottom, he would wait beside you until you were back on your feet. You loved Jake for many things, but his support was unlike anything else. He always let you feel your way, figure it out yourself before he tried to fix it for you. He encouraged you to stand, rather than picking you up. It allowed you to learn, to make mistakes you needed to, but you never had to do it alone.

Jake Kiszka was the kind of person everyone wanted in their life, and you were the one lucky enough to have him around. It was a constant reminder to appreciate him, but it was also a constant question of what you ever did to deserve him.

The love carried you through to the very end of senior year, and all the way to a bittersweet goodbye. All of the support you had given to each other encouraged you enough to follow your dreams. The only downside was that your dreams could not happen overnight, and you could not complete them alongside each other. You loved each other so much that it forced you away from each other, but you both knew that staying together in fear of losing would only make you lose even more.

With teary eyes, he stood outside your car that was packed with your whole life, holding you in his arms until the very last second. With a kiss on the head, he sent you across the country with a reminder that he would always be your biggest fan, even if he was not there to tell you. You drove for hours, remembering the sight of the four boys waving you off at the end of your driveway, and did not stop until you landed in front of a dorm room and you were too exhausted to shed another tear.

You drive home on holidays, spending as much time with him as you could, but time was a thief, and you never had as much time as you wanted. Every visit home, and with every road trip across the country he took to see you, things were different. Never love, but life. He was older, his hair longer and his face prettier (how, you did not know). He watched as university tried and failed to beat you down, and you watched as his biggest dreams began to come true. As beautiful as it was, the distance was a killer. You hated seeing him show up at your door, just slightly different than he looked the last time. You were tired of going home and realizing how much had changed.

When you graduated, he was living in Nashville, just signed on by a bigger label and preparing to travel the world. Still, despite his growing popularity and never ending excitement, he never forgot about you. He showed up with a bouquet of flowers and a single suitcase, RSVPing the invitation as soon as he received it. He spent four days with you, laughing and crying, staying up until odd hours of the morning in an attempt to cling to the memory just a little longer. He told you he was going to start touring, and that he was scared he would lose you. You laughed and shook your head, knowing you would call and text him every spare minute you had.

Distance tried hard to tear the two of you apart the first time, and was determined to do it the second. Thankfully the two of you were strong enough to withstand it, and you knew that no matter how hard the years tried to change you, one thing remained certain; Jake would always be your best friend, no matter how far away he was.

You settled in Oregon for a few years, working outside with the environmental science degree you had bled for. He continued to travel the world, playing stages for thousands of people and releasing music he’d dreamed of writing since he was old enough to walk. You called, texted, and every now and again, visited each other. Life was good, simple and fun, but it didn’t feel right.

You had no idea why it felt that way, until you broke down on the phone with Jake as you confessed how badly you missed him.

That’s when things began to change.

He showed up, 85 hours later and running on zero sleep. With little plans and no real answer to your problems, he appeared at your front door, willing to do anything he could to take away the ache in your chest. It was a night full of tears, both of you drunk off wine and the feeling of being together again. In your bed in a run-down one bedroom apartment, he asked you to move to Nashville. After years of keeping silent, he admitted to how bad it was to be away from you. He offered you a place to stay and help looking for a job, and anything you could ever possibly need so long as you were living in the same city as him.

At first, you laughed.

Three weeks later, he flew back to Oregan with his brothers in tow and helped you pack up your life all over again.

This time, for good.

His brothers flew back to Nashville after the brunt of the work was done, but he stayed so he could drive with you. Standing in the driveway of the apartment complex where you had spent the last two years of your life, things seemed the same as they always did. You and your best friend against the world, ready to face a whole new and exciting chapter. As soon as he got behind the wheel of the car, assuring you he would drive the first half of the way, it was different.

Jake was not your childhood best friend who you shared scraped knees and melting ice cream cones with. He wasn’t the boy who used to play guitar for you in his parents basement, nor was he the one who walked your dog with you on those hot summer days. He was a man who was willing to drop everything in his (extremely) busy life to travel halfway across the country to make you happy. He was a man who was more beautiful than you could remember, and he was a man you were willing to drop your entire life for just to be with him again.

He was the same person, and so were you, but this time, everything changed.

You were in love with him, and so impossibly so that it made your head spin and your stomach sick.

You made a vow to secrecy, knowing if he ever found out, the world would never be the same. Losing him was not something you were ever willing to consider, because he was the only constant you ever had in the ever-changing world. For six months, you bargained with the feelings while sleeping in his spare room (some nights) and ate dinner with him at his kitchen table. Most of the time, especially at the beginning, you fell asleep in his bed while you watched terribly filmed and scripted YouTube documentaries in his bed, and you woke up with his arm slung across your waist and his head buried in your neck. You tried to tell yourself that with time, the fleeting feeling would pass and you would consider yourself ridiculous for ever thinking you felt that way about him, but that time never came. When he left for tour, gone for weeks at a time, you missed him more terribly than you ever had despite living in his home with his memory seared into every corner.

The reunions were sweeter, the hugs longer and the warmth in your heart larger than ever before. It was a dangerous game to play, because it was so hard to keep it to yourself. You knew that if things continued the way they had been going, you’d be forced down on one knee with a ring in your hand, begging for marriage.

So, a reluctant conversation surfaced after the third night in a row you had fallen asleep next to him. It was not the conversation you wanted to have, but it was one you needed to have. You sat him down, telling him with faux happiness that you had enough money to put a down payment on a house a few blocks away. You expected him to rejoice, to celebrate the victory of home ownership with you and jump to help you move out, but he did none of those things. Instead, he forced a tight-lipped smile on his face after he cleared his throat. He gave one, firm nod and reached across the table to grab your hand.

“I didn’t know you were looking.” He said, his sadness equal to a punch in the stomach. “I would have let you live here forever, you know. I never wanted you to move out.”

You had so many questions, ones that you did not know if you wanted an answer to. You looked down at his hand in yours, wondering how you had gotten yourself in such a position. You had fallen for the one person you knew you shouldn’t, and you couldn’t bear the thought of the consequences, which is why you forced yourself to buy the fixer-upper, anyway.

Had you gotten it wrong? Did he feel the same as you did?

You were too cowardly to ask, and a month later, you had enlisted the help of the four boys to renovate a house you weren’t even that keen on living in. With five of you, the work was pretty fast, but that was the worst part of it all. After seeing Jake’s reaction to you telling him you were moving out, you wanted to stay, to drag the renovations out for as long as humanly possible, but you knew they would catch on. Instead of dwelling on all of the things you should have said, you focused on what you were going to have. Luckily, the house renovations were mostly aesthetic, and it was done within a few weeks. By the end of it, you were excited to have something of your own to do whatever you pleased with.

Then, Jake had to suggest a fucking pool.

You were happy, content with having everything finished and being moved in (and more importantly, moved out of his house). Things finally seemed to go back to normal, no waking up next to a boy who made your heart beat a little too fast, and no dinners bordering too close to romance.

But it was boring, and you made the mistake of complaining about it.

“It’ll be a great housewarming gift, y/n.” He said, his arms outstretched as a shit-eating grin encased his (infuriatingly) beautiful face.

“Jacob, I don’t need a pool. Besides, I spent all of my money tearing out the carpet and buying the ‘real’ wooden panel flooring that Sam insisted I needed.” You argued, looking down at the expensive flooring with a scowl on your lips. “Stupid fuckin’ wood.”

“That was your fault for listening to Sam in the first place!” He exclaimed, looking around the empty living room. “And besides, do you even know what a gift is? It means someone gives it to you, because they bought it.”

“You’re not buying me a pool, Jacob Kiszka.”

“You’re right,” he gave a slow nod, looking at the fenced in backyard through the large living room windows. “I’m not going to buy you a pool. I’m going to pay a bunch of men to build one!”

Turns out that building a pool is much more costly than he previously anticipated. You figured he would scrap the idea entirely and just buy you an inflatable kiddie pool on your birthday to keep true to his word. You would have been fine with it —no, you would have been more than happy with it. You weren’t sure you could accept such a grandois show of affection from a man you were trying so hard not to have feelings for, but you knew better than to expect the bare minimum from Jake. In the ten or so years of knowing him, he had never stooped as low as the bare minimum.

So he suggested the two of you do the brunt of the work together, then he would pay someone to do the rest.

The issue was, neither of you had any idea how to build a pool (or start to, for that matter) and that entailed a surplus of quality time that you moved out specifically to avoid.

But, you had never been able to say no to Jake, especially when his eyes grew soft and his bottom lip jutted out into a small pout. Puppy dog eyes were your kryptonite, and from him, you were sure it would be your demise.

After a few weeks of digging up ground and clearing your backyard, the area was finally sufficient to hire someone to finish the job. Not long after that, the concrete was poured and set, and soon enough, what used to be a grassy patch had become a pool that was much more expensive than you ever could have afforded.

“This is too much, Jake. I can never even begin to repay you for this.” You said, a hand on your head as your facial features twisted with stress. It was stunning, inviting, and your favourite part of the entire home, and it was all thanks to him.

“You don’t need to repay me, trouble. I wanted to do it.” He said, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he pulled you into his side. The action made your heart flutter and your stomach fill with butterflies. “Do you know how fun it’s going to be? We can get Sam some arm floaties and Josh a life jacket, then we can have so many pool parties.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked out at the blue water.

“I ask myself the same thing about you, every day.” His hand on your upper arm tightened ever so slightly as he spoke. “You dropped your entire life to move to Nashville, Y/N, just so we could be together again. Do you have any idea how much that means to me? Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?” You turned your head upwards, looking over his face. His head was already turned down and he seemed to have been staring at you for some time.

“I love you, Jake.” You mumbled, giving him a smile. If only he knew how true the words really were.

“I told you a pool was a great idea, trouble.” Jake said, clearly trying to take your mind off Josh’s teasing. You crossed your arms over your chest, the still-damp material of your bikini top sticking to your dry skin as you did so.

“I’m not going to say it, Jake.” You huffed, standing your ground. He’d been trying to get you to tell him he was right since the day the pool was finished, but you had bit your tongue and held back every time. “Your head is big enough as is. No need for me to inflate your ego even more.”

“Oh, so that’s how you want to be?” He asked, sitting up in his chair. His eyebrows were knitted together as his eyes silently begged you to retract the rude statement.

“That’s how I’m going to be, yeah.” You nodded, unwilling to back down. “What’s it to you?”

“You know, I’ve always been so nice to you, and I’m just supposed to take this abuse?” He continued, making a move to stand. He sat his beer on the table on the opposite side of you, raising to his feet with a slight sway. You could tell the summer heat was mixing with the alcohol in his system, and he was feeling good. In truth, you weren’t far behind him in the drunken race.

“Yeah, I’m just the worst, Jake. I’m so mean to you.” You laughed, looking up at him as he stood over you. His shadow casted a chill over you, making you realize you hadn’t moved from the sun soaked seat in hours.

“You said it, not me.” He said, his hands on his hips as he continued to tower over you. “Are you going to take it back?”

“Fuck no!” You laughed, placing your drink beside you in case he made any sudden moves that caused a spill. “I’m not going to tell you that you were right, and I’m not going to take it back. You have an ego problem, Jacob, and I think it’s time you realized it. You don’t have to be right all of the time.” The sass in your tone was completely humorous, used only to irritate him further.

Even as you two found yourself in a mock-fight, you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the picture before you. His sun-kissed skin was glowing under the rays, and his dark hair was tousled perfectly after it had dried from his pool escapades. There was a slight wave to it, and the wind was blowing it away from his face. His shirtless chest was catching your attention, but not nearly as much as the peek of a v-line from his swim trunks, and the patch of hair under his belly button leading to the hem of the fabric. Your heart sped as you remembered what it felt like with his chest pressed to your back and his hand resting on your hip while he was sleeping away the earliest hours of the morning.

Either he did not notice your staring, or he did and he opted not to call you out on it. You were happy either way, because not even being caught staring at Jake was an embarrassment anymore. It happened so often that you felt odd when your eyes weren’t on him. Before you could digest his eyes on you in the same way, he was leaning down with outstretched arms. With ease, one of his arms slid around your lower back. He shifted to the side, hooking his other arm under your thighs. With a swift motion, he lifted you off the chair. You let out a shriek of discontent, knowing exactly where his mind was as he straightened himself up. Now that he was holding you, he seemed all the more steady on his feet, almost as if he was terrified to drop you.

“Jacob Kiszka, do not throw me in that pool or I swear to god—“

“Or what?” He mocked you, cutting you off as he took two steps away from the chair. Your arms slung around his neck, holding on tightly as he clambered closer to the poolside. “What are you gonna do, trouble?”

“I don’t know, but it won’t be good!” You fought against his hold, trying to shake out of his grasp and land back on your feet.

“Oh, I’m so scared!” He laughed, his feet now at the very edge of the pool. “Say it, trouble! Last chance!”

“Never!” You fought back, feeling your body already tense in anticipation of the cold water on your skin.

“Throw her, Jake!” Josh cheered in the background, lingering in the deep end by the side so he avoided the splash zone. He was laughing at the sight of the two of you, always amidst some kind of argument. Jake looked over his shoulder at his brother, smirking at the encouragement.

Josh had a knowing look in his eye, his feelings completely unspoken but apparent to the boy standing over the pool. He knew, just as well as Danny and Sam did. Even as Jake tried to play it cool, and as you deflected every accusation, love completely surrounded the two of you wherever you went.

“Josh, what the hell! You’re supposed to be on my side!” You pleaded, frantic for someone to stop him before he let go.

“Do it, Jake!” Danny yelled over the sound of your voice, laughing as he watched your head whip towards him.

“You guys fucking suck-“ before you could finish your angry sentiments, you felt Jake’s arms move upwards. You took in a sharp breath, holding it as you prepared yourself for him to follow through with throwing you in the water.

But, you had always been the one to get the last laugh.

As he tossed you forward, you tightened your arms around him. As your body pulled away from his, your arms stayed locked behind him, causing him to stumble with the force he’d thrown you with. You heard a laugh leave his lips as your ass touched the surface of the pool, and not long after you were fully submerged in the water. You were barely able to contain your laughter when Jake fell into the water on top of you. When you swam to the surface, you noticed that he did not join you. You looked down into the water, nervous that you might have hurt him, but you did not have to think of it for very long; his hands reached for your thighs as he swam towards you, and with one strong motion, he pulled you back under the water again.

Smiling and holding your breath, you tried your best to fight his hold. After a few seconds of a futile attempt, he loosened his grip and the both of you resurfaced. With his arms still around you and his hair covering his face, he guided you towards the shallow end before he pulled you into his chest. His breathing was ragged, still recovering from the minutes underwater. You relaxed against him, finding yourself breathless for a whole different reason.

“Good one, trouble.” He muttered, pushing his hair away from his face. The water droplets streaming down his cheeks only made him all the more inviting, and his hand on your barely clothed hip was driving you crazy. He reached out, brushing the stray hairs away from your face, in no hurry to move away from you.

“The pool was a good idea, Jake.” You whispered, smiling at him. His lips parted slightly as he tried to process what you were saying to him, and after a few seconds, you saw his eye twitch as he held back a grin.

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He said, turning his head to the side so his ear was closer to your mouth.

“Don’t make me say it again.” You groaned, but you were still smiling despite your annoyance.

“Just one more time?” He pleaded, his fingers tightening on your hip as he asked. It was absent minded, almost as if it was natural for him to touch you so intimately. He didn’t even seem to think twice about it, and he certainly didn’t seem keen on breaking the hold.

“Fine,” you huffed, unable to deny the man of anything he asked for. “You were right about the pool.”

“Sorry, trouble. Can you speak up? I really can’t hear you.” He said, a laugh stuck in his throat as he continued the bit.

“Oh, fuck you, Jake.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes at him.

“—I’m not paying a delivery fee when I have two working legs!” Your attention was drawn to the poolside yet again, and as you looked past Jake to see what the commotion was about, you could have sworn you felt Jake move to be just a little bit closer to you. “Can you think? Do you ever use your head?” Sam continued, flicking Josh on the forehead to solidify his stance on the matter. Josh swatted his hand away, clearly annoyed with his actions but trying to keep his composure.

“Ten dollars is really going to kill you? Ten fucking dollars?” Josh fought back, his eyebrows knitted together similar to how Jake’s looked when he was upset. Jake turned fully, sliding his arm around you so he did not have to lose contact while he watched his brothers argue. You couldn’t help but feel the familiar swarm of butterflies overtake your stomach once again.

“Maybe it is, ‘cause it’s ten dollars I don’t have to spend!”

“You’re cheap, Sam.” Josh responded, his lips turning down into a frown.

“It’s okay. We can walk, it’s not that far.” Daniel said, breaking the tension with a hand on both of their shoulders. “We can stop at the corner store and grab another case of beer on the way back.” Danny offered. “They won’t deliver that, anyway.” With a huff through his nose, Josh eventually gave a nod.

“Fine, we can walk, but that’s not my point.” He said, stepping away from the two to grab his wallet and his shirt. “You know I’m right, you just won’t admit it.” He pointed a finger at Sam, his tone grave.

“God, you two really are twins.” You whispered, looking sideways at Jake.

“What can I say? We’re stubborn.” Jake gave a slight shrug of his shoulder.

“That’s putting it lightly.” You giggled, turning back to the three standing together.

“We’re going to get pizza,” Josh announced. “And we’re walking, because ten dollars split five ways is just too much for Sam.” You stifled a laugh, biting down on the inside of your lip so you did not further the tension in the air. “And we’re going to the gas station, I guess. Care to join?” Josh asked, looking suspiciously between the two of you. You glanced at Jake, waiting for him to answer first. When he realized all three of them were staring at you, he slowly removed his arm from your waist.

“No, I’ll stay, I think.” He cleared his throat, looking at you as he awaited your response.

“Yeah, me too.” You nodded, forcing a small smile despite your anxiety about the situation you’d found yourselves in.

“Figures.” Josh gave a cheeky smile, slipping his shirt over his head. “We’ll be back, please don’t forget that.” He continued as the other two boys stepped towards the fence gate. You felt your cheeks burn, looking down towards the water to avoid the staring. “You guys want anything? As long as Sam doesn’t deem it too expensive to buy?”

“Shove it, Josh.” Sam muttered, unlatching the metal lock as he pushed open the wooden door. “Be back soon!” He called over his shoulder as the other two followed him out. When the gate slammed closed, the lock clicked itself shut, sealing the two of you alone inside your backyard.

You shook your head, chuckling at the scene that had just unfolded before looking over to your best friend, who already seemed to find himself staring at you. Without a word, you took a few steps forward in the water, reaching out for the floatie Sam had abandoned when pizza was mentioned. Jake followed closely behind you, likely scheming another way to disrupt your day of relaxation. You pulled the brightly coloured tube towards you, steadying yourself as you centered it with your body. With one strong push, you pulled yourself up out of the water and lurched forward, heaving a sigh of relief as you landed on the tube. You turned around, careful not to fall off, and settled your ass in the middle. With a small smile, you relaxed and let your arms hang over the side, your fingers grazing the surface of the water as you looked up at the sky.

Jake was beside you, smiling to himself as he watched you. “You look comfortable.” He noted, propping his arms on the side of the floatie and resting his chin on it as he gazed up at your face.

“I am.” You agreed, looking at him through the corner of your eye. “And I’d like to stay that way, if you don’t mind.”

“You always think the worst of me, sweetheart.” He laughed quietly to himself, seemingly lost in thought about something other than the topic at hand. “Do you remember the year we bought that cheap inflatable pool? We put it in your backyard and sat in it all summer.”

“Yeah,” you laughed at the thought, closing your eyes as you recalled the memory. “It was that summer before senior year. My car broke down on the way to Walmart. Took us all damn day to even get the thing.”

“We got it though, after Josh came to the rescue.” He reminded you.

“That pool was like four feet wide, max. I have no idea how the two of us even fit in it.” You grinned. “And it looked like a watermelon. The cashier thought we were idiots.”

“Because we are.” He laughed, turning his head to the side so his cheek was laying on his arm and his eyes were stuck on you.

“Yeah, we were.” You nodded, bringing your hand to his face and brushing the stray hairs away from his eyes. You knew you shouldn’t, and that the touch was too intimate for a friendly relationship, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to touch him all of the time and never have to worry about anything else.

“Did you ever think we would end up here, in a real pool, living as sort-of neighbors almost ten years later?” He asked, reminiscing on the years of memories shared between the two of you.

“No.” You shook your head, only telling him a half-truth. You didn’t think you would end up like this, but you had always hoped you would. Actually, you always hoped you would end up like you were months before, living together in the same home, sharing a bed every night. Although you had what you once dreamed of, it wasn’t in the way you wanted it to be. As much as you enjoyed your brief stay at Jake’s house, you knew it was for the best that you left. You couldn’t keep hoping for love when you knew it wasn’t possible. You couldn’t open yourself up to the idea, because you couldn’t stomach the thought of losing him.

“I miss you living with me.” He confessed, his cheeks rosy from the liquor coursing through his veins. He would never have harnessed the courage to admit it sober, but he felt like he needed to get it off his chest, just in case you felt the same. “My bed is weirdly empty without you in it.” You felt frozen in place, his words hitting you much harder than they should have. You didn’t want to speak, fearful that the moment meant more to you than it did to him, so instead you sat, staring at him with parted lips and surprise in your eyes. “Sorry, that was weird. I didn’t mean—“

“S’okay, Jake.” You smiled, letting your hand fall from his face to his bicep. You gave his arm a small squeeze, reassuring him that it was alright. “I miss it too. I think I jumped the gun with buying a house. It’s nice, and I am excited, but it’s lonely, I guess.”

“Why did you leave?” He asked, the words coming out too quick for him to possibly stop them. As you looked over his expression, you realized it was a question he’d been dying to ask since you told him that you were moving out.

“Oh,” you breathed, swallowing hard as you tried to come up with a quick lie. “I, uh, I didn’t want you to get sick of me. I felt bad, like I was a freeloader and you were doing charity work.” You forced a smile on your face, trying to make the situation lighter by joking, but he didn’t seem to take it as such. His eyebrows furrowed, and a flash of pain crossed his eyes.

“You know I would never feel that way, Y/N. I waited for you, you know? Till you were finished school, for when you had a job and you knew what you wanted to do… I waited for you to call me and tell me you wanted to be with me again.” Your heart sped and your stomach sunk. As sweet as the sentiment was, you couldn’t help but feel yourself grow defensive over the idea. He was being far too romantic for a man who never once seemed keen on being more than friends.

“I just… I had to, Jake, okay?” You rushed out, scared he would back you into a corner and make you confess the one thing you wanted to keep secret. The pain on his face made you regret the words immediately, and you knew that fighting was the last thing you wanted to do. “I’m sorry.” You breathed, trying to focus and understand the jumble of words plaguing your brain. You wanted to be honest, to tell the truth, but every time you came close, you thought you might be sick. “I loved living with you, Jake. I think it was the happiest I’ve ever been, but I don’t want you to get sick of me, and I think that being roommates with someone you love so much is a tricky thing. I… losing you would be the worst thing in the whole world.”

“You’re ridiculous, Y/N.” His words were harsh, but his lips were upturned into a smile. “In all of the years I’ve known you, I’ve never been sick of you, and I never will be.” He said, the certainty in his tone making your head spin. “But hey, we got a pool. That has to count for something.” You liked the sound of his words, making it seem like you two were more than best friends. If not a couple, then definitely a team.

“We did get a pool.” You grinned, only slightly guilty that you had such a hard time returning his sweet words.

As always, you were terrified that it would mean something different to him than it did to you.

“You know what the best thing about a pool is?” He asked, his eyes scanning the still surface of the water.

“Hmm?” You hummed, naive to believe his question was innocent.

“It makes it so easy to annoy you.” He answered, giving you no time to register his words before he backed away from the tube and dipped his hands below it. With a strong push, he flipped it over and sent you tumbling into the water again.

You were so shocked at the suddenness of his actions that you forgot to hold your breath, finding yourself choking on water as you forced your way back to the surface. When your head popped back up, you were too busy coughing to notice Jake’s echoing laughter. When he noticed your distress, the amusement disappeared and concern replaced it. He pushed the tube out of the way, swimming towards you as you continued to clear your lungs of any water that remained.

“Hey,” Jake said, now in front of you as he reached out to hold you. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking over your face as you took in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, trouble. I was just messing around.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.” You nodded, noticing the closeness of his body as his hands lingered on your arms. “You’re a dick.” You snipped, fully recovered as a grin blossomed on your cheeks.

“Seriously, you’re okay?” He disregarded your insult completely, still concerned with your well-being.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nodded, reaching out and placing a hand on his side under the water to reassure him of the fact. He was so close, so comfortable and alluring. You couldn’t seem to pull yourself away from him, remembering how nice the physical contact felt with him. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to part ways with you, either, his eyes locked with yours and his hands anchored in position.

Instead of dwelling on the yearning of your heart, you took advantage of the moment and used all of the force you could muster to push him. He lost his footing under the pressure and stumbled backwards, his upper half crashing into the water as he sank below the surface with a splash. With a laugh stuck in your throat, you watched him fight his way above water as he suffered through your revenge. When he was back on his feet, there was a fire in his eyes and a devious smile on his face.

“No, Jake, we’re even now.” You pleaded, pointing a finger of warning in his direction as he began to move towards you.

“Uh-huh.” He nodded, clearly in disagreement with you.

“Seriously, stop!” You exclaimed, backing away from him as he closed in on you. Before you could get away, he was in front of you and his hands landed on your hips. In a moment of desperation, you locked your legs around his waist as he lifted you off your feet, cementing the idea in his head that if you went down, he was coming with you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as closely as you could to deter his attack. “I swear to god, Jake, stop!” You let out a shriek of laughter, preparing for his unforgiving nature one last time, but it never came.

Instead, he seemed frozen in place, immobile from the position you had forced upon him. When the adrenaline faded and you understood he was making no further effort to dunk you under the water, your sanity returned and so did your self-awareness. In your desperation to avoid his shenanigans, you had clung to him in such a way that his face was settled on your chest, and your legs wrapped around him so tightly that you had put him in a very compromising position. If that wasn’t enough to embarrass you, your actions not only seemed to cause a short circuit in his brain, but a growing problem in his pants. A problem that was so imminent you could feel it.

You were certain he could feel your heartbeat through your chest as his chin rested on top of your breasts, propped up by the padded material of your bikini top. Your hands tangled in the hair on the back of his neck did not make the scene any less explicit than it already was, and perhaps the worst part of it all was that shame seemed like a far away feeling, covered completely by need for him. For a moment, you weren’t lifelong best friends, nor were you afraid of any consequences. You were a woman consumed with desire for the person below you, and it seemed as though he was a man gone mad. You feared you had the signal mixed up, that you were so lost in your own feelings for him that you were confusing his feelings for you. Then, his hands on your hips slid backwards, cautious and careful as his grip settled on your ass.

You took in a shaky breath, the touch electrifying your entire body. In reaction, without thinking, you shifted downwards on him. Somewhere deep in his chest, a low groan sounded as his fingers tightened on you. The skimpy bikini bottoms left little to the imagination as he pulled you down on him further, his cock pressing against your clothed core. Your eyes fluttered closed, wondering if you were dreaming or if the euphoric feeling of being so close was actually a reality. You turned your head downwards, finding him already looking up at you with an unfamiliar look in his eye. He straightened his upper half, his face lifting from your chest and advancing unusually close to your own. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, and it was driving you close to insanity.

You wanted to taste him, to feel his lips on yours and explore the possibilities that were presenting themselves. You could feel how hard he was, how badly he needed the relief similar to yourself. Your mouth was watering at the idea of feeling him, and you were aching at the fantasy of finally having him in a way you only ever dreamed of.

The tips of his fingers traced the outline of your bikini bottoms, curious and eager to go further. Why wasn’t he pulling away? Why was he letting this go so far without saying a word to stop it? Could he really feel the same way? There were too many questions, and you did not care much for the answer as you lowered your hips on him a little further. As you did so, the friction from the movement gave you a sense of relief. A quiet whine forced its way through your teeth, and you were unable to stop it before it reached his ears.

“Careful, trouble.” He whispered, his voice husky and the vibration of his chest rattling your own. His lips were so close to yours, nearly brushing yours as he moved them to speak. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His tone of voice made it hard to decipher if his statement was a warning or an invitation.

“Who said I can’t finish it?” You challenged, desperate to keep him there for a little while longer. You weren’t ready to give him up just yet.

“You know better.” He said, the words forced like he hated to say it. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?” You challenged, your face inching closer to his own as you awaited a proper answer.

“God,” he hissed, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth. “You always make it so fucking hard to do the right thing.” This time, he pulled you down on him, unable to resist the temptation of feeling you on him.

Before you could get to the bottom of his ambiguous words, voices filled the air through the screen door of your kitchen and a rush of fear filled you. The grating sound of the tread on the door against the frame caused you to recoil away from Jake, pushing yourself backwards as if you had never been in the confusing situation at all. As bodies filled the patio, laughing and completely unaware of what they interrupted, you looked to Jake to see what he was thinking. As if it was some kind of sick joke, his face was plastered with undeniable disappointment, and behind his eyes, there was a glimmer of hurt.

You thought you might be sick. Your head was pounding and your stomach was twisted with anxiety. To make matters even worse, you were still aching for relief, aching to be back in his arms with your body pressed against his. Surely there was no way in hell that he wanted it too, and you tried to convince yourself you were crazy for thinking so, but the sadness on his face told you a completely different story. His lack of care about the position and his enjoyment of the moment was obvious, but it was too much to process all at once.

Instead, you decided to pretend that it never happened at all. Of course, it was the most painful thing to do, but in his own words, it was the right thing to do.

“Jesus, what happened? You both look like you saw a ghost.” Josh asked, his voice booming and breaking you both from the storm of emotions consuming you. There was a smile on his lips and clear ignorance to what the group had interrupted. You cleared your throat, shaking the emotions away as you noticed the group had doubled in size since the three had left. The boys partners had been planning on joining after work, but in lieu of the whirlwind of events, the knowledge seemed to slip your mind.

“No, all good.” You assured him, glancing at Jake to see he’d made a quick recovery, too.

“Hope you don’t mind the extra company.” Josh grinned, setting a pizza box down on the patio table.

“No, f’course not. The more the merrier, right?” You forced a smile, but you knew everyone could tell that it wasn’t genuine. You hoped that they didn’t misconstrue the dishonesty behind it, because it had nothing to do with extra bodies surrounding the pool, but rather the boy stuck in there with you.

“Right.” Josh nodded, smiling at his partner beside him. “Come and eat, trouble.” He said, nodding his head to the chairs you and Jake had sat in not long before.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathed, giving a curt nod. “You coming?” You asked Jake, feeling guiltier by the second.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his voice hoarse as his eyes connected with yours. “Just give me a minute.” He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. Your cheeks burned at his words, realizing what he meant and why he had to stay. “Please?” He pleaded, knowing that having you in the pool beside him was not helping his situation.

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, nervous as you repeated the same words as earlier. In a rush, you swam towards the ladder and hoisted yourself up. You climbed out of the pool, shuffling towards the group as you tried to pull yourself together. You grabbed a towel from the back of a chair as you approached the group, drying your hands before quickly wiping the water from your limbs. Sam seemed enamored with his partner, barely noticing anything that was happening around them, and Daniel was amidst a painful bout of flirting with the girl he’d been talking to for weeks now. You felt good, confident that nobody was suspicious of you and what happened while they were gone, until your eyes locked with Josh’s.

He cocked his head to the side, a playful smirk on his lips as he raised an eyebrow. Plagued with guilt and embarrassment, you cowered under his stare, giving him all the answer he needed. In true Josh fashion, he couldn’t have cared less about what happened so long as he knew for a fact that something happened. He was selective with his need for gossip, never caring about the details but desperate to know that his suspicions were correct, especially when it came to you and Jake. Thankfully, the intensity of the moment dissipated as people began to fill the chairs around the table. Paper plates were passed around as pizza was served, and Jake had recovered enough to get out of the pool and join the rest of you.

Sam’s girlfriend was in his lap on the chair, and Danny was sitting next to his new fling, taking up two seats. Josh, seeing the opportunity to further his torment of you and Jake, took one of the two remaining chairs and offered it to his boyfriend. Then, he threw a folded towel on the ground and took a seat in front of him, between his legs. With a devilish smile, he looked to you and Jake, awkwardly glancing at the only available seat left with plates of food in your hand.

“You take it, trouble.” Jake said, motioning his head towards the chair. “I’m fine sitting on the ground.”

“No, Jake. You take it.” You shook your head, unwilling to make him sit on the ground after you had hurt his feelings.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” He frowned, too stubborn to take it from you.

“Here’s an idea,” Josh pitched in his two cents, sipping his drink before continuing. “You could both sit on the chair so neither of you have to sit on the ground?” He offered, raising an eyebrow. You shot him a glare, expecting nothing less but hoping to be proven wrong. “What? You guys shared a bed for months, but sitting on his lap is too much?” Josh was desperate for a reaction, desperate for the two of you to fess up about how you felt for each other, and he was playing devils advocate to get his way. “Unless there’s a problem, trouble?” He pushed a little harder, but you stood your ground in hopes of silencing him.

“No, no problem at all, as long as you’re okay with that.” You looked at Jake, who gave a shrug. He knew just as well as you did what his twin brother was trying to do, but arguing with him never got you anywhere.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He nodded, taking a seat on the chair. He outstretched his arms towards you, inviting you in with great pleasure as if the awkward moment in the pool never happened at all. He had a paper plate clutched in one hand and a beer in the other with a dopey smile on his lips and rosy cheeks. Despite all of the days strange events, you could not seem to refute the fact that he was adorable.

You stepped towards him, careful as you placed your drink on the table. You sat, mindful not to hurt him as you shifted into a comfortable position in his lap. You twisted to the side, throwing both of your legs over his as you leaned back on him. He put his beer bottle into the cup holder in the arm of the chair and hooked his arm around your waist to hold you in position.

“How’s that?” He asked, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Good.” You squeaked, unable to confess how much you truly enjoyed it. He placed his paper plate on your leg, and within seconds, the awkwardness dissolved into nothing.

You ate, laughing at the topics the boys were discussing (and arguing about), pretending like it was just another normal day for you, but your mind couldn’t help but wander back to the incident in the pool. You couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on you, testing his limit as they travelled over your skin. Your mind only wanted to remember how close his face was to yours, his warm breath on your skin and his nose brushing your own. More than that, you couldn’t seem to forget the way he felt underneath you, worked up from the position alone and nothing else. Over and over again the memory of him pulling your hips down on his filled your mind, and it didn’t take long for the incessant ache began between your legs yet again.

Truth be told, it was not the first time the two of you found yourselves in a compromising position—in fact, it happened more often than not, but this time, it seemed intentional. There was no shying away, and both of you seemed content with progressing further had there been no interruptions. Back when you lived with him, finding yourself sleeping in his bed more often than not, compromising positions were the only way you ever started your day. Whether you woke up, your face resting comfortably on his chest and his hand on your hip to hold you in place, or if you were on your side with his chest pressed against your back and his hand nestled under your shirt on your stomach. Closeness was not foreign to you and Jake, and unfortunately, neither was sexual tension.

Most mornings, more so when he found himself as the big spoon, your ass pressed against him did little to help keep things platonic. It was always a struggle to force yourself out of bed, to pretend you didn’t notice a thing so he did not feel ashamed or embarrassed about his own actions, because you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and take care of the problems for him.

In fact, you were certain there was not a problem in the world you wouldn’t take pleasure in solving for him.

But today, you were conscious, both aware of the consequences and uncaring of them. He was willingly holding you there, testing his limits in the process, and he was sad when you pulled away. That was something you did not expect from him, and it was the very thing that was causing all of the overthinking in the first place. Did he really want you, or was he just being a guy, desperately infatuated by a woman no matter who she was? Was his sexual frustration your doing, or a result of a sexual draught he’d been caught in for months? You and Jake had always dated other people, but it usually never extended beyond hookups and talking stages. Since you’d moved in with him, neither of you even bothered to search for a date or a person to bring home after the bar. At first, you thought you were doing it out of respect for him and a dislike for the idea of having sex with someone else in his house, but you quickly understood that it was much more than that.

You didn’t want to date or hookup with anyone, because you wanted to do it with him. It had nothing to do with respect, and everything to do with your feelings towards the one boy you shouldn’t feel that way about.

You were confused, anxious, and worried that the instance might change the dynamic of your friendship, especially if any of your previous questions were answered with something undesirable. You wanted him to want you. You wanted him to love you, in the same undying and relentless way that you loved him, but it was far too much to ask of him. You didn’t want him to sleep with you because he was in a dry spell; you wanted him to sleep with you because he wanted you, rather than just for sex. The longer you thought about it, the more you realized you had been feeling this way for much longer than you ever realized it.

“Y/N?” Jake asked, shaking you slightly. You snapped back to reality by the burning feeling of his palm on your bare thigh. You turned your head towards him, wondering what he wanted and how long you had been zoned out for. You gazed around the circle of friends, realizing that all eyes were on you. The embarrassment began to eat you alive as you mustered out a hum of acknowledgment. “Josh was wondering if you wanted to play Pizza Box.” He repeated, his hand still lingering on your skin.

“Yeah, I love Pizza Box.” You nodded, looking down at his hand. You couldn’t help but think of how good it looked, decorating your leg and holding you as if you were his.

“What’s Pizza Box?” The girl sitting next to Daniel spoke, laughing nervously as Josh began to break down the cardboard box on the table.

“You see, my dear friend, it’s a game of great strategy.” Josh began, shaking off the crumbs onto the concrete.

“It’s a drinking game.” Jake corrected, rolling his eyes at his brother.

“Yes, a drinking game of great strategy!” Josh continued, finding a quarter at the bottom of his bag.

“It’s not, Sierra.” You cut in, reassuring her of the fact. “It’s super random and it’s really fun.”

“Okay,” she breathed a sigh of relief, looking at Danny and giving him a smile. He reached out and placed a hand on her knee, giving it a small squeeze.

“There is a science and I will not take any further arguments on the matter.” Josh snipped, fishing around in his bag for a sharpie. You played the game so often that he never left home without one.

“I learned about it at a frat party in my first year at college.” You shut him down once more, enjoying the frustration on his face. “We play it every time we drink. Basically, we’re going to write everyone’s name on the box and circle it. We take turns throwing the quarter, and if it lands on someone’s name, they have to take a drink.” She nodded along, following your instruction carefully. “If it lands in an empty space on the box, the person who threw the quarter gets to write a rule, as big or as small as they’d like, and if the quarter lands on that, we have to do whatever it says.”

“Oh, that’s not too hard, then.”

“No, it’s not, and it’s really fun, I promise.” You smiled. “Be prepared to get drunk, though. There’s a lot of drinking in this one.” You warned. Your eyes turned back to Josh, watching him as he wrote everyone’s name down and tried to keep them the same size. He circled his own name last, then pushed the table to the center of the circle.

“Alright, Lena. You want to start?” Josh asked, looking at Sam’s girlfriend. She gave a nod, holding out her hand. Josh tossed the quarter in her direction. She caught it, focusing for a moment before tossing it down on the table. The coin landed on Sam’s name, almost perfectly in the middle, and she let out a laugh at the sight.

“Hey!” Sam complained, furrowing his eyebrows. “You’re supposed to be on my team!”

“Not a team game, Sammy. Drink up.” You smirked. With a huff and an eye roll, he did as he was told. Lena leaned forward and grabbed the quarter, handing it to the boy sitting on the chair underneath her. He gave it a lazy toss, landing on a blank spot next to Roman’s name. Josh’s boyfriend let out a sigh of relief, knowing he narrowly avoided the sentence to drink.

“Uhm,” Sam hummed aloud, trying his best to think of a rule. “Players who land on the spot can’t swear for the rest of the game. Every time they do, they have to drink. You can write it for me.” Josh nodded, leaning forward and circling the words ‘swearing = drink’. Sierra grabbed the coin, sitting back in her chair as she looked around the board. With a targeted throw, she landed on Danny’s name. Without complaint, he sipped at his beer, then took his own turn.

By the time the circle was complete and Lena was ready to take her turn again, mostly everyone had been sentenced to drink with the exception of you. Now, the group had a pact to shoot for your name. Lena tried, but missed entirely, which came a new rule of ‘boys drink’. Sam missed and hit Jake’s name, and Sierra landed on Josh’s name. Danny made the new rule of ‘girls drink’ to counter Lena, and Roman landed on it when he took his turn. The board filled quickly, now including rules pertaining to shenanigans rather than drinking. Jake added one, stating that if the player landed on it, they had to swim a lap of the pool. Sienna added one in which the player had to attempt at a cartwheel.

The board was filled enough that the rules began to slow, and the fun began. With a reluctant round of clinking beer bottle necks, the boys took a drink. Josh tried (and failed) to do a cartwheel on the grass, and Jake had to swim a lap in the pool, grumbling about his own rules being used against him. When he returned to the chair to sit, you refused to let him back on it, giggling as you reasoned with him.

“I just dried off! It’ll be cold and wet and gross, and it’s starting to get dark out!” You complained, anchoring your hands on the arm of the chair.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, trouble.” He bargained, sopping wet as he stood before you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“My chair, my rules!” You cried, hooking your legs around the legs of the chair. He chuckled to himself, leaning down and snaking his arms around your midsection.

With ease, he lifted you from your spot, the chair lifting with you. You held on for as long as you could, but eventually had to loosen your grip. It clattered back against the concrete and Jake let out a sigh of relief. He hooked an arm below your knees to hold you bridal-style as he sat back down, placing you on top of him. You tried to scramble away, but he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back on him as you shrieked with laughter. Now just as damp as he was, you knew the fight was a fruitless endeavor. You relaxed against him, your skin littered with goosebumps from the chill of the night.

“What was that about your chair?” Jake asked, the vibration of his chest ringing against your back as you leaned against him. His chin was resting on your shoulder, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Shut up, Kiszka.” You muttered, mumbling a thanks to Josh as he handed you the coin. The alcohol and laughter did wonders at easing the tension between you and Jake, and you were barely thinking about the pool incident any more. Even as you sat atop of him, closer than usual, things felt normal, and it felt good to know that the situation did not change anything between you.

You tossed the quarter, and it landed on the corner of the box, right atop a little blank space in the corner. You leaned back, turning your head towards Jake so you could whisper something in his ear. He leaned forward, catching on to your intent as he waited to hear what you have to offer.

“I’m thinking skinny dipping?” You whispered, your nose brushing against his cheek as he turned to look at you. At first, he was surprised at your words, his eyes wide and his mind running at a mile a minute, but he looked to the box and quickly realized what you meant. Before he made his misinterpretation too obvious, he gave a nod.

“Good one.” He hummed. You leaned toward, grabbing the marker and writing the words down before encasing it in a circle.

“Ah, so that’s how we’re playing this tonight.” Josh announced, an evil grin taking over his face. At the sound of his words, your stomach plummeted, realizing what you had opened the door to in your moment of mindlessness. “Sounds good to me!”

“What does that mean?!” You whispered to Jake, nervous about what the future held.

“I wouldn’t worry, trouble. It’s just Josh.” He assured you. He had his hand on your hip, holding you close as he reassured you, and it felt good. Almost too good as you tried to bargain with yourself not to cross any boundaries.

The circle went around a few more times, and the night began to take over. The stars glimmered in the black sky and the moonlight casted a white light over the group. You were all long last tipsy, and growing more intense as the game progressed. Roman and Josh had been whispering amongst themselves for the past few turns, clearly planning something grand. Roman carefully aimed when his turn came around, making sure he landed on one of the few empty spaces left.

“Couples kiss.” He said, smiling as Josh reached for the coin. He took his time, and landed on another empty space.

“Singles kiss.” He announced, writing the words much larger than necessary. Your stomach twisted with unease as Josh sat back in his original position, turning his head towards you as he slid the quarter across the table. You gave him a scowl as you reached for it, knowing exactly what he was playing at. Carefully, in hopes of avoiding the biggest circle on the board, you threw the coin. It slid as it landed, making your heart speed, but stopped on Jake’s name.

“Hey,” he complained, a frown on his lips.

“Drink up, buttercup.” You smiled, still too on edge to be relieved. You knew that nobody else would take that much caution in avoiding the space, which made it all the more frustrating for you. Josh had you in stalemate, and he wasn’t backing down until he finished the whole thing.

The circle went around, and with every coin toss, you felt yourself relax into Jake a little bit more. So far, you were in the clear, and you worries began to ease. Perhaps you were a little too comfortable in your assumptions, because when Roman took his turn, his quarter landed suspiciously close to the new rule Josh had added moments before. When Josh took his turn, he was carefully positioned and calculated. As his quarter landed on the board, he tried to keep the frown from forming.

“Couples kiss!” He announced, forcing a fake smile. With that, Josh and Sam both turned to their partners, keeping it sweet and simple. Your turn gave the girls a round of drinks, and as you handed the quarter to Jake, you prayed he would have the same caution as you did. Of course, you couldn’t expect anything from Jake when he was drunk, and as soon as the coin was in his hand, he tossed it without a second thought.

You watched in horror as the coin landed on its side and began an agonizing roll towards the exact spot you wanted to avoid. As if the world was in slow motion, you felt like you could feel every second pass as the coin hit a divot in the box, halting its rapid roll and wobbling in its path. Eventually, it pathetically dropped to its side, and your blood went cold. Below it, the word kiss was covered by the shiny silver, and the only word visible in the circle that surrounded it was the word ‘singles’.

Through his own carelessness, Jake had sealed his own fate, and you knew Josh would never let it go, at least not without a good fight.

what do you guys think will happen in part two ☺️ I can’t wait to hear your thoughts 🤍

#gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #sam kiszka #jake gvf #danny wagner #sam gvf #danny gvf #josh gvf #gvf fic #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #gvf smut #gvf fluff #gvf angst #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet angst #greta van fleet fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #builtbybrokenbells #josh kiszka #Daniel gvf #sammy gvf

[screamingcrows]

Afternoon tea - Dr. Ratio x gn!reader

This was requested by @yinyuedijun as part of the initiative by @/ficsforgaza Thank you for donating and requesting from me; If anyone else wants to support the effort, here are links to their page with directions and a masterlist of writers participating.

Tags: soft, fluff, implied friends to maybe lovers, mildly suggestive, acts of service as a love language Note: istg feed this to an ai, asmr thing, lore.fm or the like and I will have Ixodes scapularis at your heels Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked

"Come again?" Ratio had an abundance of patience when it came to you, but even so, it was difficult to keep disbelief from making his words a little more clipped than usual.

Without hesitation, the book in his hand was closed and found a home atop the worn coffee table, his body twisting to glance at you in the kitchen. Surely, he had misheard you. There was no way you would-

"A codpiece, Veritas. Have you ever considered getting or even making one?"

The way heat flooded to his face made the wish to hide under a familiar alabaster head resurface, an urge not often felt in your company. It was frustrating really, somehow you always made him loose his footing, and what on earth could have compelled you to ask such a ridiculous question?

Wearing the piece around you would be too great a shame to not see clearly how the light warmed whenever it touched your smile, how gracefully you moved around the table with a tray of freshly baked scones, the crinkles around your eyes when you laughed. Always your eyes, attentive and light, ensnaring him whenever he sought answers from you, and he would let them without hesitation. That was a truth.

If perfection existed, it had to be contained within you.

"Well, have you? They have been very fashionable is what I've heard. I'm sure you could cause an uproar if you made one out of that mineral you like so much," amusement was clear from your tone, and as always your words were most likely carefully picked.

"Alabaster was simply fitting, I would hardly call it my favorite. You should know better than thinking me rash enough to act on your whims, I have no intention of causing any uproar at the University unrelated to my teaching material," a scoff left his lips before he continued, "and don't think I missed your little 'have been'."

He enjoyed these peaceful afternoons, as peaceful as any room could be with you present at least, but it was not unwelcome. What had started as a simple apology on your end, having ruined one of his books by accident, had quickly turned into a weekly occurrence when it became clear how much you both enjoyed what you'd taken to calling 'tea parties'.

Your company was refreshing, carefree but wise, and utterly without restraint when it curiosity took hold, the routine of your little gatherings were pleasant while still allowing ample room for variety in topic of conversation. Lately you'd begun requesting taking turns reading aloud to the other, which he had no problem indulging. A small chuckle slipped past his lips, carefully concealed as clearing his throat.

Upon lifting the delicate porcelain to his lips, it was impossible not to notice how your were grinning at him from across the table, already curled up and comfortable as usual. There was no reason not to inquire, the beaming look in your eyes having already summoned butterflies inside his body. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore how pleasant your company was, especially on days such as today where he'd showed up unprompted after work, yearning more for your voice than he did a long bath.

Or perhaps, inviting you home to bathe with him would've been the optimal course of action?

Oh that wasn't good. He shifted uncomfortably, one leg crossing over the other when blood gathered in an inconvenient place. That ridiculous garment you'd suggested would have been a blessing in his current predicament.

"You're clearly enjoying yourself, did I not notice you brewing us a new tea?" He set his cup down, eyeing it with skepticism as he awaited whatever had you looking so giddy, the sight of your lips stretching in a smile enough to have his heart struggling to break free.

How he wished he could've cursed out loud then and there, how he had been foolish enough to go months without being able to identify exactly what the budding feeling in his chest was, was far beyond him at present moment.

"I fixed your book. It's not perfect, but I did my best, and bookbinding was a lot harder than expected, so it took a while… Sorry," there was such pride in your eyes that he could practically feel his heart about to burst.

With a slightly shaky hand, the lightheadedness from his arousal only intensified by the sheer disbelief as he accepted the leatherbound book. By no means had it been valuable before, holding neither monetary nor sentimental value, but as Ratio set it inconspicuously in his lap, he couldn't help but trace his fingers along the now slightly uneven spine, knowing there was only one thing he could ever treasure more than this.

#dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #gn reader #dr ratio #veritas ratio x reader #cw codpiece #cw suggestive #fluff #soft #crow with a pen #hsr x reader

[daistea]

I need to make that man jealous. I need to see him riled up. I need to see him lose his cool. I need to be the center of his focus. Kicking my feet, twirling the phone cord, rolling over in bed, giggling, like "What do you think he'd do to me if he found out?"

I got u. rubs my filthy trash hands together 

3,700ish words

tw violence, mildly unhealthy relationship dynamics, language, slightly suggestive, Fleki

gn reader x mithrun, established relationship

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 There are layers to Mithrun’s possessiveness.

Layer 1: Caution

You looked nice. Too nice. While Mithrun had a habit of staring, he never gawked. To gawk would imply a certain sort of pathetic desperation. Mithrun was desperate for you, but not pathetically so. 

How you looked at that moment was gawk-worthy, though. He only tilted his head, gaze roaming over your body as you leaned on the dining table, organizing your belongings. Your legs, your hair, your chest, your arms, your shoulders, your back, your—

It wasn’t acceptable.

“You’re going to Cithis’s house, you said?” Mithrun asked. His voice was level, even, with no betrayal towards the slowly growing flame burning within him.

You nodded and sent him a smile, “Yeah. Did you change your mind about coming?”

Yes? No. Mithrun felt himself tense, “I’ll think about it.”

He had zero interest in a party. He had zero interest in drinking and listening to people chatter all night. What he was interested in, though, was keeping an eye on you.

Mithrun’s fist clenched. He dug his nails into his palm, causing a light sting to run through his nerves. You dressed like that for this party? He trusted you to behave, but he didn’t trust anybody else. The thought of people looking at you, their eyes raking down you; the thought of others desiring you… It filled him with a taut, vibrating anger. He was a rope pulled too tightly, about to snap.

Mithrun was definitely going to that party, and he’d stay by your side the entire time. With his arms around you and his gaze roaming the room, nobody would dare bother you.

He won’t get into fights, usually, he won’t be dramatic or loud, but you know when he’s feeling possessive. He gets a dark look in his eye, he holds you tightly, he watches people like a wolf stalking a rabbit. His expression and vibes are usually enough to scare away potential threats.

Mithrun isn’t jealous out of insecurity. He’s jealous because you’re one of his few desires and he refuses to lose you to anyone. Simple.

He’s very shameless about it. 

The next layer to his jealousy/possessiveness is slightly more intense, though, and a bit more rare. 

Layer 2: Enter At Your Own Risk 

The streets of Melini were more crowded as of late. New people had come to check out the nation, and it made shopping for simple groceries difficult. 

You’d given Mithrun the task of locating the vegetable stand. He went without question, doing as you asked and slipping through the sea of bodies. With a moment to yourself, you hitched your woven basket into the crook of your elbow and inspected the fabrics stall. The little house you shared with Mithrun needed new curtains. 

 You ran a finger over a certain fabric, admiring the weave pattern. Yet, a shadow cast itself over the stall and a sudden presence to your right stole away your attention. 

 “Hey,” a man said. You looked up to meet his eyes. He was just a guy, perhaps his smile was a little too confident, but he seemed relatively normal. “You wanna know what material I’m wearing?”

Not particularly. But before you could reply, the man continued, “It’s called boyfriend material. Wanna touch?”

That had to be the worst pick up line you’d ever heard. Should you even dignify it with a response? You felt your expression twist into one of disgust without realizing it. And the man tensed as he noticed his lack of success.

“Let me try again!” He pleaded, “I promise, I’m a nice guy, I just wanted to make you laugh. I saw you from across the street and I think you’re beautiful. I couldn’t not talk to you, you know? I just had—“

You didn’t hear the rest of his words. Your focus immediately turned to the approaching storm. It was like watching dark clouds roll in, hearing thunder shake the world. 

Mithrun lifted his chin a little. He clenched his fist. In his other arm were several potatoes, exactly what you asked him to get. The breeze ruffled his hair. It was the worst kind of anger in his eye, the calm kind. Mithrun’s head was clear. He knew precisely what he was doing. 

Slowly, you shook your head, shooting him a warning look.

Mithrun ignored you. 

He stalked closer as his good eye narrowed. His nose wrinkled just a little, betraying his fury. His shoulders were tense and his knuckles were white as he picked up and potato and—

“No!” You commanded. Mithrun froze, obeying you, but he didn’t look happy about it. The flirty guy also froze with wide eyes.

“No?” The guy asked.

“Not you,” you hissed, then pointed at Mithrun who stood behind the guy, a potato in his hand and only inches away from the guy's back. “Mithrun, I swear to god, if you use your teleporting magic to switch out someone’s literal beating heart with a potato again, I’m making you sleep outside tonight.”

Mithrun was pissed. But he knew you meant it. He turned his gaze onto you, challenging you, daring you to stop him. You maintained eye contact, refusing to back down. He could not brutalize the people of Melini just because they thought you were pretty. The guy was annoying, but innocent. 

Finally, Mithrun’s jaw clenched, but he backed down. He lowered the potato of death and took a step away. The flirty guy was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Mithrun nodded his head to the left, “Go.”

“Yes sir!” The man said before scurrying away.

You knew your boyfriend was going to spend the next few hours a bit grumpy, a bit clingy and touchy, but… You actually didn’t mind that. It sent a thrill, a heat, up your spine.

He’ll calm down in a bit. It’s just offensive that someone would even try to take you.

Of course, you remind him that that’s unreasonable. That guy had no idea you were already in a relationship. 

Mithrun does not give a damn about reason and logic right now.

He can be a little scary. It’s nice…

Level 4: The Danger Zone

Due to being a loyal partner, purposefully making Mithrun jealous was not on your agenda. He would never do that to you, you’d never do that to him. It was cut and dry. Simple. 

Except, an old friend of yours was visiting Melini and had sent you a letter to announce his arrival. The handwriting on the letter was familiar, filling you with warm nostalgia. You hadn’t realized that you were smiling at his sweet words until Mithrun’s voice tore you from your thoughts. 

“Are they announcing another sale at the bakery?” He asked. It almost didn’t sound like a question with how flat his tone was. 

You looked up to see him in the kitchen nearby, his back to you as he slowly chopped at a green onion. His hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, but locks of white still fell around his cheeks. You swore, sometimes that elf had eyes in the back of his head. 

“You think I’d be smiling like this at a sale announcement?” You asked dryly. 

“Yes, actually.”

He was right. You hated it when he was right. 

You always told Mithrun the truth, there were no secrets on your end. Mithrun, of course, had his little secrets that you would eventually discover. Like the time you desperately wanted a very pretty coat in the store, but someone else had already bought it, and Mithrun had Cithis brainwash the buyer into giving it to you. For months, you wore that coat thinking ‘wow how nice that they just gave it to me!’ 

Or the time the sequel to one of your favorite books was delayed. And Mithrun disappeared for two days without notice, then came back with an unbound manuscript of the book. You asked how he got it, he said he ‘knows a guy.’ In reality, he broke into the author’s house and stole the manuscript. 

The man was dedicated, you could give him that. 

Yet he kept secrets. Mithrun’s moral compass didn’t always point North and he didn’t care enough to fix it. You thought it was cute half the time, other times it caused a bit of trouble. In the case of your old friend, it would only cause trouble. 

So, for once, you decided to keep a secret. 

“No, it’s actually a sale at the butcher’s,” you lied, “buy one get one free on pork.”

Mithrun hummed in thought, “We could stock up and do a special on pork ramen.”

“We could do that, yeah.”

You hated lying. Now you had to somehow acquire an obscene amount of pork for the shop. 

You decided to tackle that challenge later. For now, your friend would be arriving soon, and you had to figure out how to meet him without raising suspicion. 

No matter how hard you try, suspicion rises like the tide. 

Mithrun isn’t paranoid about what you do in your time away from him. He has the tendency to be a bit codependent, but resists that urge (Kabru told him it was unfair to both of you to put all of his happiness on your shoulders. He begrudgingly agreed. Stupid Kabru and his stupid emotional intelligence.)

So, you go to do your thing. Whatever. He busies himself with one of his weird little hobbies, but Mithrun has a certain instinct for trouble. Something inside of him is telling him to beware, making him antsy. He doesn’t like these new feelings brought on by having a desire for you. It makes his knee bounce and his fingers restless. 

He looks at the fireplace. In the hearth, there’s the corner of a piece of parchment. Why was there parchment in the fireplace? Were you burning papers? Letters?

You were smiling so sweetly at the mail earlier…

He’s up and stalking across the house within seconds, out the door and into the streets of Melini. 

 Perhaps you were too trusting. Perhaps you were naive. Perhaps you were stupid. 

Ages ago, this particular old friend asked to marry you. You refused, of course, because you weren’t ready to get married and you didn’t feel that way about him. He asked again. And again. And again. It was annoying, but you decided to stay his friend because of your history together. 

Now that you had taken a moment to look back on said history, you realized…

This old friend had been trying to court you for years. 

“I heard you have a partner,” your friend said. His smile was tight and the grip on his utensil was even tighter. 

You forced a smile, “Yeah. Mithrun. He’s great.”

“Tell me about him.”

Where to start with Mithrun? It was a safe subject, at least. Your old friend knew about your relationship and would hopefully respect it. 

“Well, he’s—”

Your friend interrupted, “Is he handsome?”

Odd, but not unexpected. You nodded, “Yeah, I mean, he’s an elf so I don’t know if handsome is the right word. More like absurdly beautiful.”

Friend tensed in his chair. You saw his shoulders roll as if he was preparing himself for a fight. “Cool. Cool. Is he funny? Does he make you smile? Does he kiss good?”

You were definitely too trusting and naive. 

“Yes to all?”

“Is he good in bed?”

Your hands shot up as if you could physically repel the questions, “I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“You don’t want to talk about your boyfriend?” Friend asked, his eyes widening, “I thought you loved him. Is there perhaps trouble in paradise? You know you can always vent to me about it. I’m a shoulder to cry on.”

Had your friend always been like this? Surely not. You had good times together. There was that one time he made you laugh so hard you choked on water and he got so scared that he gave you the heimlich. Sure, his hands weren’t in the right place for the heimlich, instead landing on your chest, but—

Oh Lord. He’s always been this bad. 

With your food uneaten and a churning in your stomach, you began to stand up from your seat. “I don’t think this was a good idea, honestly.”

His eyes widened again, “Really? I think it’s a great idea. I came all the way to Melini to see you!”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. Listen, our lives have changed and I’m with Mithrun now and—”

Friend shot out of his seat, rounding the edge of the table before you could back away. His face was desperate and he was already breathing heavily. Nearby, the welcome bell rang as someone stepped into the cafe, but the usually pleasant noise was muffled to your ears. Friend put his hands where they didn’t belong, on your waist. That was Mithrun’s spot, that’s where Mithrun's hands went. He yanked you close and dread filled your chest.

This couldn’t be happening. 

His lips were on yours. You tried to pull away, your eyes squeezing shut. His grip was strong and your mind was racing with panic. Your hands landed on his chest to push him back and—

He ripped himself away. Or, rather, he didn’t rip himself, but he was ripped, like a yanked-off bandage. You opened your eyes to see Mithrun, and relief instantly flooded your system. 

But the calming, warm waters of your relief drained as you noticed the look on Mithrun’s face. He was naturally rather blank most of the time, yet at the moment, his good eye was narrowed, his mouth twisted into a scowl. He held your friend by his hair, ignoring the complaints and pleas and insults from the man. Without warning, Mithrun yanked on the man’s hair and began dragging him through the restaurant. It didn’t matter if your friend was bigger than your boyfriend, Mithrun had more strength and determination and sheer will to kick his ass. 

People gasped and watched with wide eyes. Someone panicked. Waiters and workers approached slowly. Yet, the situation resolved itself. Mithrun pushed the door open, the bell rang cheerily, and he yanked your struggling ‘friend’ out into the street. 

Your heart clenched. It felt as if someone had wrapped their cold fingers around your organs and squeezed. Your legs moved before you could give it a second thought, and you were out the door and chasing down your boyfriend instantly. 

Mithrun had dragged the man into a nearby alleyway and thrown him against the wall. Your ‘friend’ was on the ground, hands coming up to hold his aching head. Mithrun knelt down to wrap his fingers around his neck and—

“Stop right this instant!” You yelled. 

He froze, his eye widening. His hair was a mess and his pupils small with focus. Slowly, he stood up straight, taut like a bowstring being pulled. “Why?”

“Because I said so!” Your throat hurt from how desperately you’d yelled.

“That’s not a very good reason," he retorted through clenched teeth.

“Mithrun,” you seethed, “You cannot just grab people by their hair and drag them around.”

His expression darkened, “He kissed you. Against your will, I’m presuming.”

“Of course it was against my will!” You couldn’t help but wave your arms, a little manic and all-too-aware of the gathering crowd in the street behind you. “But that doesn’t mean you can brutalize him!”

Mithrun tilted his head and looked at you as if you were a child spouting nonsense. “Of course it does.”

“Make him pee his pants!” Someone yelled from the crowd.

“Pee his pants!” Someone else repeated.

“Pee! Pee! Pee!”

“Alright,” Mithrun agreed and turned his attention back to your ‘friend’, who was looking around as if he couldn’t believe what he’d been dragged into, terrified and shivering slightly. 

“Do not make him pee his pants,” you commanded, “I swear to the Gods I will—”

“Twist his dick!” Someone yelled.

Since when did the people of Melini get so violent? You glanced over your shoulder only to see that Fleki had arrived and was encouraging the act of dick twisting. Of course. 

“The ol’ dick twist!” She yelled again. 

Enough. That would’ve made you crack up under any other circumstances, but frankly you had no desire to see your boyfriend twist another man’s dick. Mithrun, being himself, was already kneeling down with the intent of twisting. You stomped up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him away. He allowed it, only making a light noise of surprise and stumbling after you. 

The further you pulled him, the less you could hear of the crowd. They expressed their disappointment, but seemed to be dispersing, unwilling to follow you and Mithrun into the darker parts of the alleyway. You rounded the corner of a building and noted that it was filled with crates and relatively clean. A perfect place to have a fight with one’s partner. 

Mithrun read your mind. He straightened up and pulled from your grip, then folded his arms over his chest and glared--- which wasn’t very different from his usual expression if not for the slight narrowing of his good eye and the hard set of his jaw. 

You returned the look. Unwilling to back down, you met his ink-black gaze and lifted your chin. 

The air thickened. It felt as if your blood had started to thrum, to vibrate within your veins. A rock lodged itself in your throat as you forced yourself to hold the gaze. No backing down. You refused. It had been a horrible day so far and Mithrun’s murderous intent did not make it any better. 

(That was a lie.)

(You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but you wanted him so badly.)

Eventually, Mithrun broke the silence, a rare act on his part in these kinds of situations. “Don’t tell me you actually care about him.”

Your blood thrummed a little higher and you felt a heat rise within your stomach, though whether that heat was from pleasure or anger you weren’t quite sure. “He was my friend at some point, though I’m not sure why. The problem here is moreso that you can’t drag people around by their hair and attack them.”

“He kissed you,” Mithrun hissed through grit teeth. 

“And that sucked, honestly,” you admitted, “but he’s just a pathetic loser.”

“Is this the same guy that’s been in love with you for years?”

You blinked in surprise, “What? I’ve only recently figured that out. How did you know?”

His gaze flattened, “Every story you’ve told me about him gave it away.” Of course. Your cheeks felt warm and you did your best to avoid his quickly intensifying stare. When you had no response, Mithrun continued, “Why did you hide from me that he was coming to visit? Did you like that he kissed you?”

An unpleasant flash of horror crossed through your chest and you gasped, “Of course not!”

Did he even need to ask that? It was absurd. Yet, Mithrun took one slow step toward you. It was the calculated approach of a wild animal on the hunt. Without realizing it, you took one step back. 

Another step forward, and you backed up. Two seconds later, your back hit the wall and Mithrun uncrossed his arms. He pressed his palms flat against the brick on either side of your head.

“I think,” his voice lowered, “that you subconsciously knew he wanted you, that you’ve always known, and that I would be angry at you going to meet him.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Heat flared in your lower abdomen and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. He was so close and you were so weak. 

“Why would I do that?” You managed to ask, though your voice was strained.

“Exactly,” Mithrun said, gravel in his tone. “Why would you do that?”

Curses ran through your mind. The one time you keep a secret from Mithrun, and it ends like this. You’re never doing that again. 

One of his hands left the wall and instead trailed up your waist, slow and savoring. His good eye flickered down to your neck and you had the urge to tilt your head as if to offer him a bite. The thought of him sinking his teeth into you, his body pressed against yours… You were on fire. 

Perhaps you might do this again, on occasion. It could be fun. 

The brick wall was cold on your back. Mithrun’s stare was colder. He leaned in, holding himself up against the wall with one hand, his other hand digging into your hips as if he wanted to sink his fingers through your skin and grip your bones. Harshly, he yanked you closer as his lips crashed against yours. He might’ve drawn a little blood with his teeth. You might’ve had the urge to melt into him. Your legs might’ve almost given out if he hadn’t held you up. 

The heat was consuming. Mithrun’s touch was rough, his kiss hard and laced with the intent to prove a very important point. Every inch of his being was focused on you in that moment. Every ounce of him was yours, and he was determined to prove that you were his in return. He broke the kiss but wasted no time in attacking your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin, teeth and lips scraping down the length and to the curvature where it was most sensitive. As you made an involuntary noise, his grip only tightened. 

And there it was, what you’d been waiting for. He sunk his teeth in. Heat pulsed through your body and you couldn’t help but gasp. You felt what might’ve been his lips upturning into a little smile against your neck. 

But Mithrun suddenly pulled away and blinked, and stared, and let out a soft exhale. The heat died like water dousing a flame. You stared back. He didn’t look ruffled in the least. His cheeks were pale as always, his eyes dull. The only sign that you’d been kissing was the light sheen on his lips. Meanwhile, you were a complete mess. You could only guess how you looked at that moment. Judging by how his eye flickered up and down your body, it was probably a sight. 

Mithrun pulled back. He stood up straight and walked away casually. 

“Where–” the words lodged in your throat and you had to force them out, “Where’re you going?”

He raised a hand as he walked, “The butcher actually is having a sale on pork. I need to get some before he closes.”

Without him to hold you up, you slowly sunk to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. 

No more secrets, you decided, feeling especially dead inside as you stared at a nearby crate. No more secret keeping. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

#dfjksdjklfjdkl #mithrun #mithrun of the house of kerensil #dungeon meshi #asks #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #mithrun x reader #dungeon meshi headcanons #dungeon meshi x reader #reader insert #x reader #jealousy

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

OH can you please do "What do you need?" "A hug." for jily <333

from this prompt list

She’s been going for 20 minutes.

“It’s fucking ridiculous!”

James nods dutifully from his place on the couch. “Absolutely.”

“And it’s not as if Slughorn has the bollocks to actually say anything. Not beyond his usual rubbish anyway which is the whole reason Mulciber has the audacity to spout his blood supremacy nonsense at the bloody dinner table.” 

“I hate that guy.”

Lily wheels around from where she’s been pacing by the fireplace. “Right? And I swear, James, he was pissed when he got to the dinner and Sluggy’s mead just made it worse. I was just sitting there, having to listen to him, as he…as he stares at me, over pudding. Because he doesn’t care that everyone knows exactly who he’s talking about. He makes my skin crawl, James.”

James takes a steadying breath and forces himself to continue to track Lily as she paces about the room, his face neutral and attentive. She’s made it clear enough times before that she won’t allow herself to go on these rants around him if she has to worry that he’ll just take them as permission to go hex the Slytherins. It’s a test of his self-control every time.

“I just wish that someone else would say something. For once! That it wouldn’t be me against the entire—”

James scoffs, his practised patience wearing thin. “I’ve told you—”

“You hate the Slug Club, James,” she interrupts with a sigh. “Don’t you remember the last time?”

Does he ever. Things had spiralled out of control at dinner, and the tension had spilled over into the corridors right after the party. Fortunately, Lily had the presence of mind to fetch Slughorn before anyone ended up needing a trip to the hospital wing. The Potions professor had quickly sent James and the Slytherins to their respective dorms, deducting only a few points from each house.

Of course, James and his friends had settled the score later that week, far from Slughorn’s watchful eye—but Lily didn’t need to know everything.

“And besides,” she continues, “I already know how you feel and it…it means everything to me, to have you on my side. But Jesus, James, you’d think at least one of the posh twats Sluggy invites week after week could at least have some sympathy.”

“Speaking on behalf of the posh twats of the world,” James begins, clearing his throat.

Lily cracks a smile, the first real win of the evening for James. “Oh, stop that,” she says, shaking her head. “We’re far too good of friends for you to fool me with that anymore.”

Friends. Good friends. Great friends!

James gives her a practised smile as she settles beside him on the couch, turning sideways to face him, knees drawn up to her chin.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I really did mean for us to study. I—”

He shakes his head. “I’m happy to be a listening ear, Evans.”

She smiles softly, resting her chin on her knees as she watches him. The firelight dances across her face and hair, casting a warm glow that makes her look radiant. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Rot of boredom, probably,” he quips.

“You just…” She purses her lips. “You always know exactly what to do. What to say. It’s like…it’s like you’ve read the Lily Evans Manual.”

James forces himself not to drop his gaze, not to give up and openly confess how he’s studied her so closely for the past six and a half years that he could write a Lily Evans Manual.

“You make me sound way cooler than I am,” he says, leaning on one crooked arm against the back of the couch. “Do go on.”

She laughs, the sound muffled as she buries her face behind her knees, eyes squeezed shut.  James's gaze lingers on her, absorbing every detail, as he commits the sight and sound of her to memory.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with them,” he says quietly, resisting the urge to reach across and lift her chin to meet his eyes. “It’s not fair.”

“No,” she sighs, “it’s not.”

“What do you need?” he asks. “I know hexing Mulciber is regrettably off the table for me,” (she laughs again) “but we could go get some ice cream from the kitchens or if you’d rather go ahead and start studying—”

“A hug,” she interrupts him.

His eyes widen. “From…me?”

“I mean,” she hesitates, her voice softening with uncertainty, “not if…not if it’s an inconvenience. I don’t—”

Before she can finish—before she can change her mind—he swiftly crosses the space between them on the couch and wraps his arms around her. Her knees collapse at once, falling off the couch between them, so she can press herself more fully against the solidness of his chest, her arms threading tight around his shoulders.

And they’re just friends. Good friends. Great friends! But he wouldn’t trade it for the world—not really.

#my fic #this was supposed to be short and sweet but alas #i am who i am #jily

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 2

Part 2:

Tashi Duncan was a force. Everyone knew it. Everywhere Tashi went, a crowd of people gathered, seeking some form of contact with her. A brief conversation about her day, their day, the fucking weather. Just so they could say they talked to the Tashi Duncan. Liana hated her. She didn't hate her personally; she hated the fact that even at Stanford, everything revolved around tennis, and accordingly, everything revolved around Art Donaldson and his blonde curls. Art, who showed up at her dorm at unreasonable hours with a box of fries he didn't even eat but knew she liked, Art, who was at every party she attended, Art, who wouldn't stop babbling about Tashi Duncan. "Look, I just think she's not the right girl for him..." Right now, Art was lying on her bed, bouncing a ball while she was trying to finish a paper for her Intro to Economics class. "I don't understand why you're here..." she mumbled in response. Somewhere in the second week at Stanford, she had stopped fighting his presence. He refused to let go. Every scowl she sent his way only encouraged him to do stupid things like waiting for her after class to walk her to the cafeteria or calling her mom and casually asking if she knew why Liana stopped coming to his open practices (she never attended his practices anyway, the little shit was an unbearable liar who made her mom talk for half an hour about how you can't neglect friendships like the imaginary one between her and Art). "Because you didn't come to practice today. Again." He looked at her. "Are you back with James?" he asked casually. "You know his name is Jake," she rolled her eyes, realizing she'd been reading the same line for fifteen minutes and deciding to close her laptop. "Are you sure?" he asked with a half-smile, pleased that for the first time that evening, he had her attention. "Why do you care that Patrick and Tashi are together?" she asked. "I don't care. I just know Patrick, and you know Patrick-" "Do I?" she cut him off, causing him to squint for a second. "You know Patrick well enough to know how he treats girls. He doesn't take them seriously, and now he's with Tashi. He's going to mess her up and ruin her season." He shrugged, as if it was the most logical thing anyone had ever thought about his best friend. "Aren't you supposed to worry about Patrick's season, Art? Like the good friend you are?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Everything felt too charged with tension she couldn't figure out. "You didn't answer me about James. Are you back with him? He's kind of a loser," he changed the subject, not taking his eyes off her. "You're kind of a loser. Sitting in my room and whining about your best friend dating the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Get over your crush and move on. Use your blonde hair to find a hookup instead of bothering me while I'm studying." She turned her back to him and opened her laptop again. "And no, I'm not back with Jake," she concluded the topic, not wanting to reopen the wound of that relationship. Certainly not with Art Donaldson, who had started moving towards the door, finally getting the hint.

Liana put Patrick on speaker while she searched for her earrings. She had promised Daria (the only friend she had managed to find so far) that she would go out with her to the bar across from the university, and they would try out their fake IDs. Liana was sure no one would believe she was 21, no matter how revealing the dress Daria forced her to wear, how much makeup she put on, or how high the heels she wore were. No one with eyes would believe she was old enough to buy alcohol. "The referee kept making mistakes. I think Marcus paid him off. His dad probably promised the guy a new Aston Martin if I lost." Patrick, who had been complaining for the last ten minutes about the terrible game he had today, continued talking while she tried to apply lipstick as straight as possible. "I don't know much about tennis, but that sounds exaggerated, Pat." Liana didn't know what to say to cheer him up. The truth was that since the season started and Patrick decided he was pursuing professional tennis, Liana didn't know how to support him. "I'm telling you, something was off there." He spoke, maybe to her, maybe trying to convince himself. "I think you should call Tashi or Art. they would understand better than me what went wrong..." she said, wiping off the lipstick, the bright color felt too much. Like she was trying too hard to draw attention to herself to show everyone she was pretending to be an adult. "Oh, if you think Tashi hasn't already called me and told me everything I did wrong in that game while reminding me of all the mistakes from the previous game, you're wrong." He answered. She recognized the bitterness in his voice. "That sounds like a healthy relationship. you should write a book." She tried to lighten the mood, again not knowing how to help him. She didn't know Tashi, only heard stories about her, and currently, they weren't great. "Art will just keep saying I should have taken the Stanford scholarship like him and be with you guys in the beautiful college bubble, drinking beer from a keg." He continued, ignoring the jab about his relationship. "Imagine how much fun you could have had with me at Stanford, Pat. I'm on my way to use my fake ID at a bar. In heels and everything." Liana tried to do everything she could to steer the conversation away from tennis. "Whoa, Liana Levi, breaking the law. Who would have believed we'd reach this moment? What's your fake name?" he laughed, which made Liana smile. Something about hearing Patrick so broken felt wrong to her. It didn't fit the curly-haired boy who always tried to make her laugh and include her in everything he did when she was around. "Amanda Jacobs," she replied. Silence fell on the line. "Amanda Jacobs like Amanda James who went to boarding school with me and Art?" Patrick asked, and she could hear the octaves in his voice change. She already knew he wouldn't let this go. "I had to come up with something on the spot. I panicked," she defended herself as his laughter slowly became the only thing she could hear. He couldn't see her right now, but it made her smile even more, even though it was at her expense. "Alright, Amanda, don't drink and drive. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He said after he calmed down. "Okay, Dad." She rolled her eyes. "You know I love it when you call me-" he couldn't finish the sentence because she hung up.

Art was sitting on her bed when she came back from the bar. Not only had her fake ID worked, but the bartender had also been hitting on Daria all night, so he kept pouring them free shots. It was safe to say Liana had never drunk that much alcohol in her life. "Am I imagining you?" she asked with utter seriousness. "What? No. I was waiting for you." He looked confused. "Are you drunk?" he asked the obvious while Liana tried to take off one of her heels and almost fell, causing Art to quickly get up and stand next to her so she could lean on him. "How did you get in here, Arthur?" she put her hands on her hips, causing him to look at her and flash his most charming smile. The kind that made all the girls melt. "Your dad gave me a key for emergencies," he said, without taking his eyes off her as he sat back on the bed and she approached him with clumsy steps, a little disappointed that taking off the heels didn't help her stability much. "Do you want to sit?" his tone was amused. He had never seen Liana so drunk. Almost every summer, they managed to sneak a few beers when Patrick came to visit. But it was never serious. "My dad gave you a key? You realize that's not normal, right? We need to talk about boundaries, Donaldson," she turned her head to him while he was already looking at her, just inches separating them as they sat next to each other on the bed. "Patrick told me you were going to a bar, something about a fake ID? wanted to see if you're ok" he said, not moving. A little afraid she'll be the one who suddenly moves away. He couldn't remember the last time Liana was this close to him. He didn't think she would ever get this close to him again. "Patrick is a snitch, and I'm not telling him anything anymore," she sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically, spreading her arms, causing Art to do the same and land on her arm, closer than she would tolerate any other day. "I can't believe you didn't invite me. I'm disappointed," he tried to sound amused, but he was genuinely disappointed. By this point, he was sure she understood they were friends, that they were connected by such a strong bond that he sometimes doubted if he could ever unravel it. If he even wanted to unravel it. He just didn't understand how, while he saw her so clearly, she didn't see him at all. Sometimes he wondered if she even knew his name. Then he would see her in the crowd at one of his games, and the world calmed down; he always won when she was there. "You don't drink anyway," she noted quietly. The fatigue started to overcome her, and Liana's eyes closed on their own. "Hey, I do drink," he defended himself, even though they both knew he was lying. He tried to maintain his diet as correctly as possible, as fitting as possible for his athletic lifestyle. "I think Patrick is sad," she suddenly said, and Art felt his heart beating quickly. "How do you know?" he asked in a quiet, almost defeated voice. "Because when I talk to him, I'm sad too."

sooo, here's the second part. I think we're getting somewhere, but it's going to be a slow burn, so stick with me, I guess. I'm kinda clueless as to if you like it or not, so feel free to tell me what you're thinking ❤️

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #tashi duncan

[blingblong55]

More than this- John "Soap" MacTavish NSFW

Based on a request: I hope it is okay with you and not boring cause the majority of inspiration/ideas I have are from songs :3 Can I request Playboy!Soap who's trying to get it with Reader (without realising Reader's a player too). After many relentless persuasion, reader's decided 'fuck it, lets go then'. once the deed is done, reader dipped and left soap in surprise (cause soap caught feelings for reader by the end). thank you! :) (song inspired: https://youtu.be/55h_ugXqTq0?si=tANMojqXlQeNomdl) ---- F!Reader, MDNI, 18+, smut, player!Soap, player!reader, fingering, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, anal!sex ---- A/N: the song is so good and the request also reminded me of Niall Horan's "Nice to meet ya" so...I got inspired by both :)

Soap had always been the charismatic one in the squad, his Scottish brogue and cheeky grin making him a favourite among the ranks and a magnet for attention. His real name was John MacTavish, but no one called him that. Soap was known for his effortless charm and his reputation as a playboy, never failing to have a woman on his arm during leave. He enjoyed the game, the chase, and the thrill of never getting too attached.

He first noticed you during a mission briefing. You were new to the unit, sharp-eyed and focused, with a calm confidence that intrigued him. From the start, Soap found himself captivated. Unlike others, you didn’t fall for his usual lines and smooth talk. Your responses were always polite but distant, leaving him wanting more.

Over the next few months, Soap made it his mission to win you over. He flirted relentlessly, invited you for drinks, and found excuses to be near you during training exercises. You, however, were an enigma. You’d laugh at his jokes, andengage in banter, but never gave him the satisfaction of reciprocating his advances.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling day in the field, the squad gathered in the makeshift rec room. Soap, ever the life of the party, was regaling them with a story, his eyes constantly drifting to you, who sat across the room, cleaning your gear. Catching your eye, he grinned and raised his beer.

"Hey, why don’t you join us for a change? You’re always working too hard."

You looked up, your expression unreadable. "Someone has to keep things running smoothly around here, Soap."

"Come on," he coaxed, "just one drink."

After a moment’s hesitation, you shrugged and joined them. The evening wore on, and Soap found himself drawn to you more than ever. As the night wound down and the others began to drift off to their bunks, Soap leaned in closer to you.

"You know, I’ve been trying to get you alone for months," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity.

You arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips. "And why’s that, Soap?"

"Because you’re different. You don’t fall for my charm like the others. It’s… refreshing."

You laughed softly, the sound surprising him. "Maybe you’re not as charming as you think."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Or maybe you’re just a tough nut to crack."

There was a pause, a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on. Then, with a sigh, you set down your drink and stood. "Alright, Soap. You’ve been persistent enough. Let’s go."

Soap blinked, momentarily stunned. "You mean it?"

You nodded, your eyes challenging. "Yeah. Let’s go."

He followed you to your quarters, his heart pounding with anticipation. This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for. You barely made it inside before you were on each other, the pent-up tension exploding into passion. Soap revelled in the intensity, every touch and kiss igniting a fire he hadn’t felt before.

He slowly undressed you, watching as you squirmed with excitement. His strong hand glided over the fabric of the dress, pulling it up until it was above your waist. His grip was unyielding on your hips as he whispered, "Fuck, just look at how wet you are for me, lass.” He pushed two fingers inside, licking his lips with satisfaction. 

His thick calloused fingers pumping into you. Your eyes fluttered shut. The man above you groaned loudly, “That’s what I’m talking about,” he exclaimed. 

You open your eyes, "Soap," you whimper and he smirks. "Fuck," you shut your eyes and hold onto his shirt. That was all he needed to hear, it was the green light. Soap grabbed your hips with both hands and flung you onto the bed as you cried out. With a swift movement, he threw his weight over you and pinned you down as he pulled his cock out of his trousers. In the next moment, he had it positioned at your entrance as he muttered a dark prayer. 

"Soap,  fuck- ahh...n~ngh," a playful smile on your lips as you let out another needy moan. "Fuck, I need more~" you mutter and he smirks. Not much longer, his thrusts grew more intense and he started to thrust faster, harder. He could feel you tensing up, letting out heavy breaths, and waiting for that sweet moment.

Soap grunted "I knew you would beg me once I started." His thrusts became more erratic now; he wanted to feel how sensitive you were, how wildly you craved for him. You felt him rubbing against the spot that made your legs shake. He squeezed your hips harder and thrust faster causing you to cum. 

He pulled out, repositioned you and started to penetrate you anally. "Your sweet ass is mine," he grunted over, “all mine.” A savage smile crossed his lips, hearing how you moaned and panted beneath him. He slapped your ass as he fucked your tight hole. Moans of need and desperation leave your lips and he laughs.

He pushed into you, forceful and deep. He groaned and slammed into you harder, “Perfect.” His pace increased, and the sound of flesh smacking against flesh filled the room. His hand reached between you, squeezing your clit as he continued to fuck you. “Come for me, Y/N.”

He felt the heat building up in him and knew the end was near. He was going to fill you up and remind you why you should come back for another round. “You’re such a good girl,” he praised you. Both of you were spiralling now, as he slammed into you one final time, you cried out, and your body convulsed, milking him for every drop of his release. His cock seemed to expand inside you as he came hard. Simultaneously, he threw his head back, growling, feeling an orgasm high. As he finally released into your ass, giving you a hot treat of his cum, you whine and whimper. He collapsed on top of you, panting.

Soap never wanted you to be more than his plaything, but he was rapidly learning he couldn't just have a piece of you—he craved you entirely. He needed all of you. "You’re my pretty slut, lass" he growled, fingers digging into your hips.  

He laid there, closing his eyes as he finally rested, your body next to his and that was all the assurance he needed for the night. 

But when he woke the next morning, you were gone. He sat up, confusion washing over him. Your side of the bed was cold, your gear gone. You’d left without a word.

Soap dressed quickly and headed to the mess hall, scanning the room for you. He found you at a corner table, already immersed in a conversation with another soldier, your demeanour casual as if nothing had happened.

"Hey," he said, approaching you, trying to keep his voice steady.

You looked up, giving him a brief nod. "Morning, Soap."

"Can we talk?"

You shrugged, rising from the table. You stepped outside, the early morning air crisp and cool.

"About last night," he began, searching your face for any sign of regret or emotion. "What happened?"

You met his gaze, your expression calm. "What do you mean? We hooked up. It was fun. But that’s all it was."

He frowned, taken aback by your nonchalance. "Just fun?"

"Yeah, Soap. Just fun," you said, your tone firm. "We’re soldiers. We can’t afford to get attached."

He stared at you, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. He’d pursued you, convinced himself it was just another conquest, but somewhere along the line, he’d caught feelings. And now, looking at you, he realized you were just like him—a player, only better at hiding it.

"Right," he said, forcing a smile. "Just fun."

You nodded, giving him a small smile. "Good. See you around, Soap."

As you walked away, Soap felt a strange emptiness settle in his chest. For the first time, the game hadn’t gone according to plan. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d lost more than just a fleeting moment of passion. He’d lost the one person who had seen through his façade, only to remind him of his own rules: never get too attached.

But as he watched you disappear into the bustling crowd, he couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, your story wasn’t quite over yet.

A/N: got so lost with my writing throughout this so I'm sorry if this is all over the place

@liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @Krinoid24 @frizzseaberries @frazie99 @katybaby00 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @enarien @luvecarson @coralwitchdreamland @ikohniik @strawberrychita @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @anonymuslydumb @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @the_royal_bee @luvecarson @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @iruzias @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95 @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate

#cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #mwii #call of duty #cod smut #john soap mactavish #captain soap mactavish #cod soap #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mactavish #soap x reader #mw2 #simon ghost riley #soap mw2 #soap smut #soap john mactavish #john mactavish #john soap mctavish smut #john soap x reader

[garglyswoof]

the space we'll fill with time

For Come What May May 29th: Say the Quiet Parts Out Loud A conversation you don't think they'll ever have but wish they would. | What are some offscreen moments you wish you could see? I won't be around much tomorrow, so posting early.

“What was she like?” Karen’s question is soft as it breaks the comfortable quiet. Frank winces before realizing the reaction is just instinct - he's unbothered by the question. Not when it comes from her.

He turns the wince into a smile that stretches across his face as he remembers. “She was a ballbuster, that’s for sure. Didn’t take any shit from me. Made me understand what a real man needed to be, y’know?” He glances up at Karen where she sits, patient and interested. 

“The married guys in my unit would bitch and moan about taking care of their kids when they were on leave, or doing dishes or some shit. And y’know, sometimes that stuff settles into you, right? So I came home once, before Kandahar, and I started complaining about having to do laundry or something, and she let me have it.” Frank shakes his head, grin wide. “God damn my life flashed before my eyes she took me down so hard. She was just merciless,” he laughs.

Karen smiles. “Sounds like she could keep up with you.”

“Yeah. More than.” It’s quiet for a minute as they both sit with their own thoughts. Frank’s the first to break it.

“M’ not saying everything was sunshine and roses, no way," He shakes his head firmly. "We both had our faults. She had trouble letting the kids be independent, and I wanted them to grow up and help their mom out. ‘Specially because I wasn’t around. I guess that was a selfish ask.”

“I don’t think so. I mean I get both sides. They’re just different.”

His hand scrapes the stubble on his face as he agrees, the sound loud in the relative quiet of the apartment. “You want another beer?” He gets up at her nod and grabs them both a bottle, frosted from the refrigerator’s chill. He opens her bottle with his own, an old party trick he learned back in recruit training that never fails to make Karen smile. She lifts a brow and holds her hand out when he can’t find an opener for his own beer, then proceeds to open it for him with a key of all things.

“I’ve been practicing,” she says with a proud smile that slams him in the chest. He sits down at the end of the couch and tugs her into him, her back against his front, her silken hair tickling him until he sweeps it away to gently lay a kiss on her neck.

Karen asks another question, her voice soft again. “Who gave the best gifts?” Frank’s surprised huff is loud in her ear.

“Not me, that’s for sure. I had to learn. She never wanted jewelry, shit like that.” His chin rests on her shoulder and he tilts his face to hers. “You sure you’re okay talking about this?”

“I want to know. She’s a part of your life.” The tense doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does her brief kiss to his lips, silencing his concerns. Part of him wants to get lost in it but he can feel she’s hungry for his words, for the little things that made up his life before.

Before. God, what a small word to fit too much into. 

He thinks it over and Karen lets him, he hears her bottle lift and drop, the slosh of liquid and the displacement of air. 

Before. Before grief so strong that the only recourse was rage. Before he let himself become The Punisher. He tenses up and Karen places a gentle kiss on his cheek. He slows the thoughts from spiraling, for her. It takes him a few moments to center himself as the living room clock that he swears he's going to find a way to secretly throw out one day ticks loudly, resolutely.

“Y’know that whole thing, not that Women are from Mars shit but the other self-help thing. Uhhh,” he lifts his head from her shoulder and takes a swig. “Your love language, yeah?” He sees her nod and continues. “Maria was an acts of service person, so it worked because that’s what I’m good at. Fix the washer, take the kids to the dentist, she could care less about gifts when it came down to it.”

“What about you, what’s your love language?” And god if the question isn’t so strange, because part of being with Karen is realizing that they haven’t known each other all that long, the moments stretching out like hours through the violence were just that.

“Touch, for one.” He nuzzles into her neck again, as if to illustrate the point. “I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. After they died, that was the hardest, I think. To know I’d never be able to wrap my arms around her, around the kids.” His chest constricts; his heart knows it will never not hurt, same as his head.

She sits up and turns in his arms. “I should be the one asking if you’re okay.”

He blinks once, twice. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Because he knows this is part of the after.

After. He met Karen in the space between, he knows that now, just as he knows she's the one that stretched the moment out, turned time on its head, helped him have this. He smiles and Karen looks at him curiously, her eyes bright and warm. After. Yeah. That word can't hold it all either.

He pulls her into his arms, arms that cross over her back more than they did with Maria. Karen feels different and he’s glad for it. Doesn’t want to confuse the two, ever. Feels disrespectful to both of them. His voice is a little more broken than he intended when he speaks again. 

“I love you. And I love her.”

“I know.”

It’s gentle and soft and everything, to the both of them.

#kastle #kastleexchange #kastlenetwork #i keep writing things with 0 editing in an hour ill start thinking im not bad at this maybe #either way this is a moment id love to see #hope you like it too #the good thing about 0 notes is i can edit and no one will know #the bad thing is

[goth-mami-writer]

umm that recent fic u posted (love it btw) got me heated ngl. So would it be okay if I could request one where reader broke things off with Leon (cuz of Ada/during the re4 era) and years later they see each other at Claire’s get together?? But reader is with fiancé and u can decided the ending—thank you

♡Wet Wedding Dress♡

~(AU) Leon Kennedy × f!Reader work

《 You bursted into Claire's party that night and winced to the number of people already present and on-time unlike you. You carefully brushed past some of the crowd as Claire in her red cocktail dress crossed her green lawn to greet you.

“Geez, I am so sorry I'm late. Traffic was crazy..” You said apologizing but Claire in her usual, perpetual kindness hugged your neck, only caring that you came at all on her birthday.

“Don't worry! Ugh, the stupid caterers were late anyhow. You haven't missed a thing.”

You went ahead and gave her the small gift you'd picked up on the way over, having boxed it up in the car and she smiled appreciatively and promised she'd place it with the others back on the dessert table.

You felt a little overwhelmed by the people already here when she walked away. You wove ‘hi’ to a few of them asking how they've been since basic. The conversation was nice but you noticed yourself wandering in the hopes of finding someone else.

Leon was in the back of the living room out of your gaze. He sat with his back to the wall, talking over a game of pool with a few acquaintances from the past. He noticed a new silhouette in the room suddenly and then felt a racing flutter in his heart as you crept closer.

He sat upright in his seat, clutching his beer as a surge of nervousness washed over him. He blinked several times to assure himself that it was you and he handed his long cue to one of them, telling them to take his turns for the rest of the game. He then poured the rest of his beer into a tall houseplant secretively as he needed an excuse to get into the open kitchen area where you were headed.

He couldn't approach you directly. It would be weird for both of you, he was sure. The last meeting you had wasn't exactly a kindred memory. He'd just been caught talking to Ada his ex when he said that they'd parted ways and well within your right to, you had slapped him across the face. You two were dating at the time, and he did love you. But that palm print against his cheek was the mark he needed to know that you loved him too. Enough to cry while telling him that hated his guts.

He never forgot that night. And he wondered now on his approach the beer cooler on the kitchen floor if you remembered it too and now he wanted to ask you if telling him you hated him, stung in your throat like your handprint on his face.

You were oblivious to him reaching down into the cooler while you were scanning the room in fact trying to find…him. You held your hand to your chest, taking a plastic glass premade by Claire's punch bowl to give your hands something to do.

He wanted to get your attention- so nonchalantly, as if he was mistakenly not paying attention, he ‘accidentally’ placed the cold beer bottle to the side of your thigh just below your dress as you stood faced away from him.

“Sorry..” He said feeling you shiver, then felt just as frozen by the first look you gave him. Your eyes lit up brightly and you put down the small plastic glass but..you held your hands together. Your spirit told you to wait and remember to resonate on how much you've missed him.

‘Don't hug him, idiot. Don't you dare hug him.’ you thought in your head.

You crossed your arms, trying not to be awkward when he searched in your gaze as well you did his. He didn't think of the night you slapped him at all when he stood in front of you now, lost for words that were certainly taking their precious time to find him. He thought of that morning before. You had slept over after spending your night together. You laid there only wearing the half smile you wore when you dreamt and he thought of the morning sun in your hair, circling around you like a halo.

“Didn't think I'd run into you.” He said, clearing his throat to break the thoughts in his head that tormented him with the images of you sleeping so beautifully in his bed like you were born to do it.

You shrugged, then mentioned with some added repose to portray that you weren't aching to see him,

“Yeah, I ugh- I forgot you were friends with Claire. Uhm..”

You twined your hands behind your back, mentioning a little more brave after a hard swallow,

“It's nice to see you.”

Leon nodded, telling you the same and he found his mind wandering again. But yours was too. A part of you stayed resigned thinking that he might’ve hated you for the last fight you had. You overreacted and you regretted doing it everyday. After remembering that, you thought about just walking away.

“How've you been?” He asked, trying to keep down all the things he really wanted to say.

When you moved your hair out of your eyes, Leon's heart sank into his stomach and hit the bottom of his feet with a clunk that shook him. He felt a ball wadding up in his throat and his eyes fell down to realize the worst thing had happened while you two were separated.

You had a ring on your finger.

“I've been alright. How about you? Still…federal and working in DC?” You asked, noticing that he stared now at your engagement ring, hating that he'd even seen it.

Leon nodded, trying to avoid sounding like a brag so he merely shrugged while catching another glimpse of that little shiny boat-sinker rested on your ring finger.

“You ugh-” Leon asked, wanting to get this part over with,

“You getting married?”

You froze, hoping he wouldn't try and ask the details of your fiancé so soon. You wanted to reminisce and try to find the normalcy between you. However, you knew that was the overly hopeful part of yourself trying to…..imagine that you two still had a chance at working.

“I am.” You answered, twisting the ring on your finger tensely,

“Here in about three months.”

Fuck, he thought. Feeling like he was talking with a hole carved through his chest now. He had thought about calling you sometime in the year apart. He thought now that maybe if he'd gone through with it, things would be different now. You'd be wearing his ring on your finger.

You heard Claire call out from behind him and she yelled out that “Jacob” was here and you smiled widely, waving him over and you introduced Leon to your fiancé on the spot but felt the air change between you.

Leon looked over his shoulder as this new man approached and not-impressed just didn't fit the bill. Jacob was lanky, wore glasses with curly, boyish hair that just looked to be lackluster. But, Leon shook his hand to be cordial.

Jacob looked to you, a little surprised to be standing in front of the renowned agent Leon S. Kennedy, and he asked you softly as if to be discreet,

“You ugh….you worked together? You've never told me that, honey.”

Your face turned a bright, telling pink, looking back to Leon, then Jacob in this awkward situation you'd found yourself in. Leon tried not to gasp at the feeling of being some kind of secret and more, so he tried not to smile. He put the bottle of beer to his lips, hiding his grin as you backpedaled all the reasons you just so happened to never bring him up before.

“Well-” Leon said, holding back a laugh. He was amused with the way things had turned out, but he laughed also at himself. Even though Jacob looked like a scrub in his eyes, that was your man, and he had no right to make judgment.

But you couldn't tell that to his mind.

“I'll catch you guys later. Nice seeing you.”

You felt the need to pull him back, wanting him to stay, but you told him goodnight as he slipped away back into the crowd. You lost him after only a moment, and yourself and Jacob then gravitated back towards the outside veranda where Claire's cake was being cut already.

The rest of the night, you felt detached from the celebration. You were sunken into your phone, overhearing the conversation from Jacob and his friends that were in attendance. Leon sat against the wall, chugging what had to be the 10th beer he'd gotten ahold of and felt a fire starting when he constantly found himself staring at you.

And him.

When everyone began making their way home, hugging Claire's neck before waving goodnight, he wanted to make sure you didn't leave before he gave you a drunken earful of what exactly he thought of Jacob and how you deserved better. He was stumbling, trying hard to focus as he looked for you in the front yard of people but you had been following him in silence for the past few steps he'd taken.

“Leon-” You said, trying to be gentle knowing he was drunk.

He turned, trying to shake away the warble in his vision and he faced you, leaning on the wall so he wouldn't stumble while you talked. He noticed something in your hands and looked up as you started explaining, somewhat unsurely.

“I just-” You said, beginning to crumble the piece of paper in your palm, knowing you were only doing this so he wouldn't think you were still into him,

“I just wanted to give you this. We had a few extra so I wanted you to have one.” You said handing over an official invite to your wedding in the few short months.

Leon felt a scoff leave his mouth due to the loss of his inhibitions then you mentioned to ease any doubt,

“You don't have to go. We're friends so.. I figured I'd tell you that you were welcome to come. If…you wanted to.”

There was a silence between you after that. You wish you knew what he was thinking. Because the space and the quiet was killing you as you stared at the floor. You started to tell him that Jay seemed to like hearing the stories of you two working together but Leon spouted off quietly,

“I'm happy that you're happy.”

He turned his head, his eyes half lidded partially from the alcohol but also to the tension. You don't know why. But it just sounded like he was…lying. Or at least leaving something out. But you were too, weren't you? There were a million things you couldn't say.

“Me..too..” You said in a hollow tone, feeling nothing but empty after you said it.

You brushed past him, knowing that Jay was waiting in the car then you said over your shoulder, trying not to sound desperate as if you wanted nothing more than the last word,

“Just..text me if you're coming. Just so I know.”

“I will-” Leon said montonely, looking up at the ceiling before mentioning finitely before you were gone,

“Congratulations..by the way.”

You wanted to thank him but instead you just trudged away. On your way home that night, Jacob asked what was keeping you so quiet. Thinking that maybe you had a lot on your mind but you did. You told him you were fine, just tired and wanted to shower before bed. Once you closed the bathroom door and turned on the water, all you could do was cry in the hum of the shower. You were getting married in two months and you were going to be thinking of Leon now, every single day, weren't you? Could you really wear someone else's ring?

~Your Wedding Day

You sat in the dressing room ten minutes before the ceremony. Your makeup was done, and your dress flowed around you with even your veil made of the fine, sheer lace that cost a fortune. Your bridesmaids had been asking all morning if you hadn't slept well. You were irritable, easy to ignite. But they figured it was nerves, and you assured them as much.

When ten minutes became nine, you looked up to the dimly lit vanity mirror and asked the room full of people if you could have a minute alone. Everyone was quick to do as you asked and when you were washed back into a more settling silence, you pulled the phone away from your purse. That morning, unbeknownst to anyone you'd received a text from Leon saying that he was coming today and that he was sorry he didn't rsvp sooner.

You stared at that message longingly while you were alone and in a moment derived from lack of thought and more so grounded in a nostalgic panic, you called him. You held the phone to your ear feeling as if this just wasn't real.

Leon was signing in at the small table in the cathedrals vestibule when you called and he was slow to reach into his jacket pocket to answer. You heard it ring once then quickly ended the call, cursing into the mirror as you tossed your phone down.

“Fuck!” You cried from the feeling of never speaking to him again and you leaned over, trying to save your makeup from tears. You hurried to preserve your mascara, now asking yourself over and over what you were doing.

You were led along by the wedding coordinator in the next few minutes and stood in front of the large double doors, peering inside as your bridesmaids entered the ceremony hall first, waltzing down the aisle along with the lulling accordion music. When the loud, booming bells began to change in arrangement, you heard the sound of everyone standing and you took the last breath you needed to convince yourself that….you weren't making the biggest mistake of your life.

The doors opened and softly you heard the gasps of everyone in attendance to your long, ornate gown that cascaded to the floor in its angelic, blinding white. You stepped forward on the coordinator's cue and began reluctantly down the aisle. You stared at the floor as you began to softly cry with one tear escaping. Leon watched as you moved with a slowness. These were the last images he'd ever have of you before losing you to marriage and he realized it now. His gaze resigned back down and he told himself not to be so goddamn selfish.

As you came to the altar, Jay helped you up to stand across from him. The priest began to read from the traditional verses detailing a bound union made with love and duties to those who dedicate themselves with vows. All of the words felt meaningless as you stood there, staring into the ground with your bouquet ready to break beneath your clawed fingers.

Then, you were prompted to turn for the placing rings. Jacob slid his ring on your trembling finger and you did the same, reciting vows as you both did so to the stone walls that echoed. Jacob said the prolific phrase “I Do” and there in that moment, time felt stuck in place. Unmoving and slow.

You fell quiet when asked the same question that needed an “I Do.”

The church grew at its quietest and waited for you to respond. Leon looked up from his harrowed stare into the floor and watched you hesitate. You held Jacob's hands but felt that nothing would ever leave your throat again without a fight. Your voice shook as well as your legs, and with a breath of air you felt you needed to die for, you instead turned to run.

The congregation gasped sharply, and people even stood to watch as you fled in heavy strides that flowed your dress behind you in long, white billows as you sped down the aisle. Tears flooded your face now as your shaking hands held up the front of your gown, and you screamed curses that probably appalled the stone angels on the walls, but you didn't care.

You begged those who ran after you not to follow as you escaped down the church's side stairs leading to the street but one shadow moved their way through the pathways and side doors to run behind you anyhow. Leon swung his keys into his hand and practically dove through the moving people to get to his car.

As the sky above you darkened in the few minutes it took you to get outside, you hurried across the large cobblestone steps in no clear direction. Tires were heard behind you, and you assumed it was one of the groomsmen trying to change your mind. But you saw Leon roll down his car window right when the rain began to fall. You shook your head, knowing water would ruin this thousand dollar dress, and you just stood now in the somehow fated torrential downpour.

Leon got out of the driver's side, asking you from the road what you were doing as the rain soaked you both now. You raised your hands, asking with a snideness as your shoulders rose in just as much confusion,

“Does it look like I know what I'm doing?”

Leon swung the wet hair away from his face and asked vaguely through the sounds of the water,

“Why'd you never say anything?”

“What?” You asked, getting closer, and he asked again, getting annoyed that he didn't ask this when he needed to,

“Why'd you never tell your little boyfriend about me?...You never told him that I was your partner. That we..worked together for years? That you…slept with me, dated me, screamed at me-”

“I fucking get it-!” You shouted over the rain to stop him but you shook your head, moving your sopping wet dress as you paced tensively to find an answer,

“I don't know, okay?! It just never came up. And don't throw it in my face about that fight. I..think about it all the time.”

“Do you?” He asked shortly, hanging on breath-by-breath for you to say it, and you crumbled, hanging your head to cry in the rain while he put the pieces together himself.

He looked out at the street, watching the water roll in and he knew he needed to make this quick before you both become waterlogged and he said with his voice roaring over the soft thunder and rainfall,

“We didn't talk at Claire's. And we should've.”

“I'm sorry for hitting you that night, Leon.” You said, sputtering with shaking lips as you sobbed, and he only half smiled, telling you that you didn't need to apologize for something like that. He began to laugh contagiously even with rainwater soaking your gown,

“You hit like a princess, come on, that didn't hurt me or my tender feelings.”

You stared at him as you both began to laugh in the rain together. It felt healing but not as healing enough as what you were about to tell him. Words left behind that should've been said years ago.

“I wish-..” Leon said stuttering until you cut him off,

“I love you.”

Leon was halted from even breathing, watching as you stared across the road to him. You knew then that there was just no other way to say it or explain it. You couldn't tell your boyfriend, your friends, or even your fiancé about him because it'd be too damn obvious from the first breath. You loved him too deeply, and it'd be written all over your face. For all to see.

Leon charged towards you after giving into the feeling. After stomping to your side, he lifted you into his arms, rising you above him, wet wedding dress and all to bring your lips to his. It felt like another tireless thing that was left undone on the night you last saw him, and you surrendered into his lips as you did those years ago.

Suddenly you heard voices from up the street and saw as your family and wedding party had found you, yelling over the rain to the others and you looked to Leon in horror, knowing you could never go back now.

“You wanna get me the hell outta here?”

He nodded with a devious smile as he brought you back to your feet, and you remembered that troublemaking look from the many memories of his past antics in your mind. He raced with you back to his car, and you watched behind you as together you both ran with your hearts pounding in the falling rain. He closed you inside the car, hearing as your family began yelling your name, and his foot slammed to the gas pedal once back behind the wheel.

“Hang on tight.” He said as the motor accelerated loudly in a whir.

You laughed in new joy feeling his car take off in a getaway that spun the tires and throttled the loud engine. He took your hand once the rear view became a blur but you noticed one more thing that needed to be left behind along with the life in the distance. You tossed that wedding ring out the window. It clinked to the road passing you by and you nodded as Leon smiled widely to the sight.

“That's better.” You said in relief to take his hand. 》

I wrote the HELL outta that one. Thank you so, so much. That was fun. Looking forward to more! ✌️

#leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #send me asks #x reader #resident evil 4

[mallowsweetmiri]

Best friend!James with no boundaries

This is inspired by @ddejavvu cause I can’t get enough of no boundary James

———————————————

Summary: Y/N has been best friends with James since they were kids, and she’s constantly in his dorm hanging out. While he helps her get ready for an epic Gryffindor party, the rest of the marauders are forced to witness their questionable friendship boundaries.

———————————————

Remus and Sirius exchange a knowing look as they enter the dorm. They’ve just got back from securing the liquor from Hogsmeade and it looks like you’re starting to prep for the party as well.

“James! Don’t lie, this top totally washes me out,” you pout, standing over James with your arms crossed as he sits on his bed and watches you model the outfit.

“Okay, okay. The color isn’t the best. Try this one on,” James sighs as he tosses you a tight fitting shirt. Without any regard for the now three boys in the room, you strip off the ugly top in exchange for the new one.

“Woah, woah, woah! What the hell are you doing?” Sirius exclaims, putting his hands over his eyes. Remus just rolls his eyes before moving to his trunk to put away the supplies. You completely ignore his comment as you slip on the new top, your breasts inches away from James face. He doesn’t seem too concerned.

“Oh, piss off, Black. Never seen a pair of tits before?” You quip, walking over to the mirror. Sirius shoots Remus a look of disgust but he just shrugs in return.

“Okay, this is the one,” James says proudly, coming up behind you in the mirror, “he’s not going to be able keep his hands off you tonight.” You sigh as you turn around to look up at James with innocent eyes.

“You really think so?” You pout, fiddling with the hem of your tight skirt. Sirius scoffs from across the room.

“I know so. Here, just pull this up a bit,” James bends down to hike up the back of your skirt and pulls the fabric of your shirt taut against your curves, “and put on that sexy perfume and there’s no way he’ll be able to resist you.”

Your smile spreads across your face as you reach up to kiss James on the cheek.

“Thank you James, I don’t know what I would do without you,” you pat him on the cheek before strutting out of the room, “See you tonight boys.”

James smiles proudly as you leave the room before falling back onto his bed.

“Are you serious, Prongs?” Sirius scoffs as he falls onto his own bed.

“What?” James asks, looking up dumbfounded from his bed.

“How can you just sit there with her tits in front of your face and act like that’s normal?” Sirius asks, his mouth open in astonishment. James only smiles back.

“Oh, please. She’s just my friend. Besides, someone has to help her make her tits look good, have you seen her fashion sense?” James snorts and falls back onto his bed, completely unbothered. Sirius turns to Remus for some sort of assurance that he’s not going crazy.

“At this point I’m not sure why you’re surprised,” Remus shrugs, putting his jacket in his trunk, “but her tits did look better in the second top.”

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter #maurauders era #maurauders fanfic #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #hp fandom

[kyeomsense]

fix | l.dh

haechan x gn!reader

slightly suggestive, angst

found this buried in the drafts, not proofread soooo yeah :)

wc: ~1.2k

---

you wonder if you could have fixed donghyuck. the thought plagues your mind with each waking moment. it knocks at your self-esteem and draws an abundance of salty tears from your pretty eyes he once said he loved oh so much.

all your friends tell you that no, you couldn't have fixed him. you couldn't mend the scars that marred his heart no matter how hard you tried. in spite of the soft touches between silk bedsheets, warm kisses in the morning sunbeams, and the loving exchanges of glances and giggles, you couldn't fix him and his issues.

because lee donghyuck is beyond repair.

that's what you tell yourself when you lock gazes with him from across a busy house party. in an instant, your conversation with jisung and chenle seems to fade into the background as the bass radiating from the speakers is drowned out by the pace of your heart. it's been six months since you last laid eyes on him, but he still has a dizzying effect on you.

the black jean jacket he's wearing makes your brain short-circuit. you recognize it as the one you got him for his birthday last year. the tan peaks of his collarbones look more alluring than ever in his familiar white tank top, the one that you used to tear off him each night. his hair is longer, coming down and creating messy frills at the base of his neck, just the way you liked it. for someone who ghosted you when you needed him most, he seems to keep up well with your preferences.

the world stops for a second when he meets your gaze. even with bumping music and the obnoxious laughter of wasted seniors, you swear you can hear a pin drop. because nothing matters in that moment.

because it's just you and donghyuck. that's how he makes you feel. when you're with him, the worries of the world fry away and become muffled static.

he's always made you feel like this. ever since the day you met him at one of jaehyun's themed christmas parties, you'd been completely enthralled in his carefree nature, honey-dripped voice, and witty tongue. it all came crashing down the moment you brought up your messy relationship status after months of being trapped in friends-with-benefits limbo and found yourself blocked on all social media platforms.

"you okay?"

a soft nudge from jeno brings you back to reality. you force yourself to tear your eyes away from your ex.

"yeah," you hum, opting to focus on the sickening red liquid in your cup. "i'm alright."

you can tell jeno's concerned, but he doesn't pry. instead, he offers you a comforting smile and a pat on the shoulder. "let's find nana, he's probably waiting for us to get back with the drinks."

the two of you collect an array of beer cans, oversized soda bottles, and a few cups of whatever was left in the punch bowl before heading towards a quiet corner of the house. the only noise emanating from jeno's bedroom door is the hushed chatter of the television.

"you're back. i got the tv working." jaemin helps you with the drinks, setting them carefully on the bedside drawer while he sneaks a glance at your troubled expression. "what happened to you? you look like you've seen a ghost."

you can only give him a strained smile. "nothing... i just.. donghyuck's here."

jeno's face contorts for a few uneasy seconds of silence before he speaks.

"i invited him, i'm sorry," he sighs. he looks apologetic as he runs a hand through his messy black hair. "he wouldn't quit bugging me about it, so i just told him he could come.. as long as he stayed away from you and didn't try anything."

jaemin scoffs. "he's donghyuck. of course he's going to try something." he stands to shut the door to jeno's room and plops himself right onto the bed. "but let's forget about it for now, okay? he can't do anything if we're up here watching movies like losers."

that makes you laugh. you nod your head in approval, this time flashing a genuine smile to jaemin and a small nod to jeno, who takes it as a sign of forgiveness and settles in his seat next to you on the scratchy old rug he's had since freshman year.

the hours fly by as the three of you get through movie after movie, making snarky comments and gasping at unexpected twists and turns. by the time the third movie ends, jaemin's snoozing upright on the floor, an empty beer bottle still in his hand. jeno's eyes are wide open and focused on netflix's overwhelming catalog of rom-coms when your bladder decides it's time.

"bathroom break," you say as you stand and dust your sweater off.

"want me to wait?"

"no, i'll be quick." you yawn and slip out of the secluded bedroom.

by this time, the party has died down and the house is quiet save for some soft whispers. you can see the lights on in renjun's room as you pass and hear a few voices discussing inside on your way to the bathroom.

you jump when the door opens. you nearly have a heart attack when you notice who's coming out.

"y/n?"

your blood runs cold. you could recognize his voice anywhere.

you're quick to compose yourself before you turn to greet him, your brain forcibly tugging the corners of your mouth up into a fake smile. "hey, donghyuck. didn't know you'd be here."

his lips twitch a bit in amusement as he examines you. you can feel his sultry eyes wandering along your frame as he takes in the familiar sight of you, one that he vividly remembers waking up to on a regular basis.

"damn, full name? what happened to 'hyuck'?" he banters. his slight smirk widens a bit as he sees through your obvious act. "jeno didn't tell you i was coming?" he seems entertained, a small chuckle leaving his plush lips.

you shake your head and avert your gaze to the floor. you're afraid if you stare at him any longer the last of your emotional resolve will crumble and you'll end up crying. you can already feel your eyes welling up, and if this goes on you know you'll burst into tears.

"n-no, he didn't. but i actually have to go now so i'll just.." you shakily gesture towards the end of the hallway.

donghyuck stops you before you can make your mad dash, closing in on your figure. his footsteps are light against the carpeted floor. he stops just in front of you and reaches a hand up, gently lifting your chin.

"so soon?" he asks. his voice is seductive and feathery.

it's alarming how fast your brain short-circuits when you finally meet his gaze. he's always known how to bother you, annoy you, seduce you. you have the hots for him, and he knows it well. he plays the game of love like he owns it, like he owns you.

in an attempt to escape, you push his hand away and take a step back. "yeah. jaemin and jeno are asleep anyways so i-i was just gonna head out."

he pauses for a bit before responding. his response nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"alone? it's two a.m." he hums. "maybe i should drive you home."

"i-i don't think that's necessary, donghyuck. i can walk or call an uber or something. and you've been drinking right? so it's just not a great idea—"

"i haven't been drinking." you feel small under his gaze. "and it's dangerous. just let me take you home."

his tone is more demanding this time, like he knows that's all it takes to get you to give in. he's spot-on.

the car ride to your apartment is quiet, with only the soft chatter from the late-night radio filling the space. you sit stiffly in a seat you once owned as donghyuck's passenger princess, spotting a few remnants of previous affairs in this cupholders and floor mats. bobbie pins, scrunchies, and even a few pieces of jewelry are scattered on the outskirts of his car.

when you finally arrive, you sense him turning towards you. he stops you as you move to unbuckle your seat belt.

"i miss you." he says softly.

it's incredible how he draws tears from you with just three words. the affirmation is all it takes for your walls to crumble completely. it's the last crack that demolishes the dam keeping your watery eyes and emotions in check.

"hyuck.." the first few tears flow down your cheeks. "stop."

"stop what?"

"this. you ghosted me after i told you i loved you. i don't need to be reminded of that."

he sighs, a twinge of annoyance present. "that's in the past. you're still mad about that? it's not even that big of a deal. i mean, come on, you knew we were never that serious, it was less than two years so—"

you cut him off before he can even begin speaking. "hyuck, you really haven't changed at all. you're just like back then. you don't miss me, you miss feeling like you're in control. i'm not there anymore to boost your shitty ego or be your go-to every time you need a quick fuck. i'm not begging you to stay and crying every time i hear you're out with a new girl. i bet you miss making me cry. you're probably really enjoying this now, you fucking monster."

if there's one good thing this interaction is bringing, it's the truth.

there's a sense of catharsis that bellows from your core as you ream him in his own car. for months, you'd been wanting to tell him how much you resented him for leaving you without any answers, but he'd made it clear he had no intention of seeking you out or hearing your inquiries. not until today, at least. even with your answers now, you're not satisfied.

"are you done?" he asks. it feels incredibly condescending, but there's a familiarity to it that makes you whimper internally.

donghyuck always made you feel like it was just you and him. because he made you feel special. because he called you love and swatted off anxious texts regarding your whereabouts from friends and family. because he completely isolated you from the world and made you incredibly reliant on him. he blamed you for anything and everything. that was just who he was. and you learned the hard way that there was no fixing him, no matter how much you thought you could.

regardless, you gave in then.

and you give in again now, pulling him into your apartment he knows like the back of his hand while feverishly pressing your lips against his.

#nct dream #nct dream x reader #haechan #lee donghyuck #nct donghyuck #donghyuck x reader #haechan x reader #haechan angst #nct 127

[sturnioloho]

dis smile

#this feels so intimate #like he’s smiling at me from across the room at a party #focused on no one but u #sweet lil smile #him smiling like this after sexting u in public #o my #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

[suguann]

Possessive!Gojo who makes you wear his jersey when you go to parties at his fraternity after games, openly admiring the way you dwarf inside his clothes. He leans forward on the edge of the bed to get a better look, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes raking over every inch of you from head to toe. 

"Toru, it's too big," you pout, checking out your reflection in the floor-length mirror on his closet door. “I look silly.”

The tent growing in his sweats says otherwise—all the blood in his body rushing from one head to the other just from seeing two things that are his coexisting—and he gives you another once-over, thinking of several ways to describe you, silly not being one of them.

"You’re so pretty, baby.” He swears he’s a little drunk from the sight of you, but he means it.

Possessive!Gojo who pushes you up against the door inside the locker room before a game—slightly jealous from the guys looking at you as they filed out into the hall, and equally turned on because he knows they can’t have you—telling you he can't play with a hard-on before he's pressing into you from behind.

He can feel your tummy quivering under his hand where he holds you close, feels how his cock is carving its way inside of you, and you both moan when he presses down lightly. It makes him dizzy how tight and small you are; pulsing, wet, and swollen-soft velvet that gives every time he buries himself into you.

"You gonna hold all of my cum in this cute cunt until after the game, y-yeah?" he sucks the question into your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll lick it out of you afterward. Just keep it warm for me, ’kay?”

You answer him with a high-pitched whine as you clench down hard around him, cumming with a muffled scream against his palm and nearly pushing him out of your warm, fluttering heat.

Possessive!Gojo makes sure to stuff his cum back into your drooling cunt with two thick fingers, curling them into your front wall to pull another soft orgasm out of you—just a little more, ah, there you go, always so good for me—before he helps you fix your panties to trap it there.

His arms wrap around you before he presses a tender kiss to your temple. “Don’t forget to cheer for me.”

Possessive!Gojo whose smirk from watching you squirm in the stands, melts into a glare when a guy takes the empty seat beside you, sitting almost too close for his liking.

“Stop staring at your girlfriend and hit the fucking puck already,” Sukuna grumbles, leaning against his stick.

Possessive!Gojo who makes sure to fuck you in the backseat of his car afterward with the windows cracked in hopes that the guy from the stands would walk by to you moaning Gojo’s name, and he eats you out just like he promised—bending you over the center console, smiling to himself at how shy and squirmy you get—only to fill you up again.

Possessive!Gojo who pouts whenever Nanami manages to steal your attention with something sciency and nerdy (something entirely up your alley) whenever you come over on weeknights. 

“That’s so neat, Nanami,” you smile, hearts practically in your eyes as you listen to him talk about his latest research. “Maybe I can stop by the lab and check it out sometime.”

Possessive!Gojo who doesn’t miss the way Nanami’s ears turn a shade of red from your praise—color high in his cheeks—how he gives a sheepish smile whenever you talk to him.

“Toru,” you say, finally bringing your soft, pretty gaze on him again. “Are you even studying?”

Yeah, he is, but something else entirely, he thinks as he watches how your shorts hug your ass while you walk around the house’s common room—and he’s not the only one staring.

Possessive!Gojo who slaps your thigh, making you jolt in his lap. "Did I tell you to stop, huh, baby?"

You shake your head, biting your lip and avoiding the pair of eyes watching both of you (intently) from across the room—especially you—a quiet observer as you slowly sink onto your boyfriend’s cock while Nanami thrusts his own into his fist. 

"Ah, fuck—b-but–"

Your words break off into a choked moan when Gojo thrusts his hips up underneath you, pressed as deep inside as he can get, and when he looks down, he swears he can see the imprint of himself pressing against your stomach. 

"Tell me what I said,” he says through gritted teeth as he starts bouncing you, the couch continuing its steady squeaking under your knees.

Possessive!Gojo who can tell that it's hard for you to concentrate with the way his cock moves inside you, and you’re unable to answer with anything other than babbling nonsense. He decides to take mercy on you and stops to grind you in his lap instead.

He kisses your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on. "I said, don't stop until you cum, and you’re going to let Nanami see how fucking pretty you look when you do."

The next sound out of your mouth is a squeal when he holds your inner thighs to keep you open as he thrusts up into you again and again—letting Nanami see what can never be his.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “So good for me. Go on, show him how my good girl takes cock.”

Possessive!Gojo who locks eyes with Nanami just as he’s about to cum, burying his groans of pleasure into your neck as white-hot sparks shudder up his spine and heat pools in his gut.

Mine, he tries to say, but Gojo thinks his frat brother gets it when Gojo’s the one cumming inside you and Nanami’s spilling all over his fist.

Masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #.things i write #sorry if you're seeing this again #i had to repost #anime smut #jjk drabbles #jjk fic

[illusioninfnty]

day 15 ; keeping quiet

↠ billy loomis x reader x stu macher

fandom: scream word count: 3.9k warnings: nsfw 18+, gf!billy and stu, DUBCON, semi-public sex, homoerotic undertones, mentions of gore, cheating, degradation, dirty talk, thigh fucking, double penetration, knife play if you squint, gagging, unprotected sex, creampies, cumplay, cum eating, fingering, my stu bias definitely shows sorry guys

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You weren’t really much of a party person, and all of your friends were aware of that. It was why none of them gave much resistance to the idea of you slipping away.

Stu’s house was insanely crowded, more than his usual parties. It was obviously because of the recent killing spree by the mysterious masked killer who had yet to be caught. Your general anxiety in loud spaces mixed with that of the unknown killer running around had you even more paranoid.

“Be careful!” Sidney calls out and Tatum waves as you make your way up the staircase. You send a small smile back as you weave your way through drunk teenagers stumbling all around, looking for more drinks.

You’ve been in Stu’s house plenty of times, having been friends with him for years at this point. You make a beeline straight for his bedroom, hoping that no one was in there hooking up so you could have a quiet place to decompress. 

You knock loudly on his door, pressing your ear against it as the loud music and teens make it hard to hear inside. There’s no answer to your knowledge, and you slowly peek your head in.

No one is in the room, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You shut the door behind you and plop down on Stu’s bed, laying yourself out in a heap of exhaustion.

A bang from somewhere inside the room startles you, making you jump up from your seat. You notice that Stu’s closet door is slightly ajar, and figure that something inside fell down. You make your way over, the closet creaking as you open it.

A gasp leaves your lips and you step back after seeing what it was that fell.

It was one of the ghostface masks. 

You slowly back away, eyes wide in disbelief with what you were seeing. No. It wasn’t possible, right? Stu couldn’t have been the killer; it made no sense. You bend down and cautiously pick up the mask.

It looks like your average store-bought cheap costume accessory. You inspect it closer, but bring a hand up to your mouth and almost drop the mask when you see what’s stained on it.

Small flecks of blood, all spattered across the edges.

The sound of the door creaking has you throwing the mask back into the closet and slamming the door, chest heaving as you pretend as though you weren’t searching through it.

In walks Stu, his trademark grin spread wide across his face. 

“Now what are you doing in here?” he teases suggestively and wiggles his eyebrows. He closes the door and leans against it.

But clearly you’re not very good at hiding your emotions, because the smile instantly drops from Stu’s face. “Have you been…snooping in my things?”

You bite your lip and can feel your heart drop in your chest. “What? No! I just came in here to rest.” Your voice sounds incredibly shaking and you know there’s no way he’s buying it.

Stu’s eyes narrow, and he stalks closer to you. You back away in return, but his long strides make it difficult to put distance between the two of you. “I think you’re lying to me.”

He utters out your name in a warning tone. At this point, you know, he knows you know, and you know he knows you know that he’s the Ghostface killer. You make a feeble attempt to duck past Stu and make a run for it, but he grabs your arm and pulls you against his chest, completely restraining you.

You try your best at escaping. You pound on his chest, wiggle in his grip, and even try biting him. That fails miserably and Stu slaps his large palm against your mouth, preventing you from screaming for help.

He drags you over to the bed, and you start to kick your heels against his legs. You aren’t sure what he’s capable of anymore. Is this the moment you die? Is Stu going to kill you? You let out a choked sob underneath his palm, clawing at his hand but to no avail.

You push back against him with all of the force of your body, yet Stu remains solid. “Be quiet,” he mutters in your ear. 

And then you feel it. On your backside, you can feel Stu getting hard. You whimper in fear, and your body goes limp. But he clearly notices that you could feel it, and he chuckles darkly.

“Got me excited with all that struggling, babe.” He shamelessly rubs himself against you, his erection fully hard beneath his pants now.

Despite the terror that you feel in that moment, you couldn’t help but moan silently.

You would be lying if you said you never thought of hooking up with your friend. Stu was hot, he was funny, and if Tatum was a reliable source, he also had a huge dick.

If fucking Stu could save you from death, you would gladly let him use you however he wished.

You quickly concoct a plan in your head—a lame one, but a plan—to seduce Stu in an attempt to hopefully convince him not to kill you afterwards.

Before you can even attempt to put your plan into action, the bedroom door creaks open. “Shit,” you hear Stu mutter under his breath. Both you and him turn together, and in walks Billy, sauntering as he usually does.

He pauses and raises an eyebrow as he surveys the position you and Stu are in.

“Did I interrupt something?” Billy smirks, his eyes going dark. You look up through your eyelashes at Stu, who presses you closer to him, as if warning you not to signal for help. He shakes his head at Billy.

“She knows, man.”

Your body goes completely rigid in Stu’s grip. A chill runs down your spine.

Billy was involved in this Ghostface shit too? Well, that actually surprised you less than Stu. Billy was kind of a horror junkie in secret, even rivaling Randy, and he always had this strange look in his eye whenever he thought no one was looking.

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Oh?” 

The tone in his voice is sinister, much different than what you’ve heard from him before.

He strides over, pulling out a knife from his pocket and holding it out towards you.

You shriek, but it comes out all muffled. You try to tilt your head away from where Billy points the knife to your chin, but Stu keeps his hand solid, forcing your head forward.

He clicks his tongue at you, teasing you for your failed attempts to escape.

“I really didn’t want to kill you now, sweetheart, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to fall. You still helplessly struggle against Stu’s grip, choking back sobs. You so desperately want Stu to release his hand, want to beg the two of them to keep you alive. You’re two seconds away from sounding like you belong in a bad porno that the boys rent from the video store where the woman says please! I’ll do anything!

But you don’t need to do any of that. Because before Billy starts slicing and dicing and stabbing at you, he backs away and looks Stu up and down. He then barks out a laugh.

“What, did chasing her around get you all stiff?”

Stu grins cheekily and grinds his erection up against your butt. You let out a surprised moan under his palm, grabbing onto his forearm. “You know I’ve always wanted to fuck her, man.”

Billy eyes shift between you and Stu, before pausing on you. A smirk slowly grows across his features until it morphs into a toothy grin. You can see the way his cock begins to twitch in his jeans and your heart sinks into your stomach.

“I’m not going to let you fuck her alone tonight.”

As if Stu was waiting this whole time for Billy’s approval, the hand that was restricting your mouth moves off and down to his jeans. Before you can even think about opening your mouth, Billy brings the knife back up your face, right under your chin forcing you to keep your mouth closed and head tilted up to meet his eyes.

“If you say a word I’ll cut your throat open and stick my cock in it.” He imitates the motion of slicing the knife across your throat. 

You swallow harshly and can’t control the way you tremble under Stu’s hold. But the depraved part of you has your core throbbing, at the carnal lust that fills his eyes, so desperately wanting them both to get to fucking you sooner rather than later. 

Scoffing in his face, you try your best to put up a calm front. “Are you guys all bark and no bite? All I hear is talking but no action.”

“Oh you’ll be getting action soon, baby.” You can feel Stu’s erect cock rubbing against your backside and the way that his arousal stains your shirt. His hand holds it at the base as he guides it between your legs, slowly fucking you between your thighs. You look down to see the bulging red tip of his cock leaking beads of precum as it penetrates the plush skin of your legs with every thrust.

Billy takes his knife and slices your skirt right down the middle, the two pieces falling to shreds at your feet.

“Yeah, there it is!” Stu yells as his long fingers poke and prod at your pussy through your underwear until it soaks the fabric through. “All nice and wet for us now.”

He moves the material to the side of your puffy lips and without so much as a warning sticks his cock right inside.

“Oh fuck,” you moan out as quietly as you can with the intense pleasure. It slides in easily with how wet you’ve gotten over the past couple of minutes. You arch your back into Stu as his long cock bullies its way inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Stu begins thrusting immediately, the sounds of your skin slapping together being the loudest thing in the room.

“Such a dirty little slut,” Stu’s voice teases, laughter evident in his tone. His arm around your waist holds you up as he pounds into you at lightning speed, bouncing you up and down his cock. Your feet lift off the ground ever-so-slightly as he pulls you up. “But I guess I’m kind of a slut to. Always wanted to fuck you like this.”

Through your lust-filled haze, you can see Billy stroking himself through his boxers, jeans already unzipped and pulled down. He stares at both you and Stu and where the two of you connect. 

“You gonna join man?” Stu lifts you up under your thighs. The action lifts your feet up in the air and exposes your pussy directly in Billy’s line of view. Stu pulls his cock out enough so just the head remains inside, and starts fingering around your lips.

You gasp at the sensation, your arms gripping his own and your walls clenching down desperately onto him. Stu’s fingers make a v shape and pull your lips open wide. “There’s plenty of room for you in here.” 

“N-no!” You sob out, clawing at Stu and kicking your legs. The implication is not subtle at all, and the fear has you clenching even tighter onto him. There was no way that you could fit both of them in your pussy. Stu’s cock is already thick and fills you completely; you don’t think you could take another one without breaking.

Billy continues to palm himself above his underwear, the head of his cock poking out from the elastic band. “Fuck yeah, now your speaking my language!”

“No! Billy!” You shake your head wildly, tears threatening to fall from your swollen eyes. “Stop! It won’t fit!”

He rolls his eyes and takes his hard cock out of his boxers, pumping it with a few solid strokes. “Stop complaining.” 

“He’ll make it fit,” Stu giggles from behind you.

A strangled sound leaves your lips, a mix between a choke and a sob. You’re powerless in Stu’s hold as he moves your limbs every which way he pleases. He never lets up in his thrusts, his stamina completely insatiable, and it doesn’t feel like he’s stopping any time soon.

You have no choice but to lay helpless as Billy guides his cock into your wet hole, pushing against Stu’s. The stretch from the two of their massive lengths is painful, and you bite the outside of your hand as an attempt to soften your cries.

“Fuck,” Billy moans, slotting himself fully inside of you. His eyes squeeze shut and his head is thrown back in pleasure. Your hands press against his chest to stabilize yourself. 

Your eyes roll back as you start moaning audibly, his cock stuffing you full alongside Stu’s. 

“None of that.” Billy slaps a hand over your mouth and digs his fingers into your cheek. “If any one of those sleazebags outside hears those moans I’ll have to kill them and fuck you over their dead body.”

His voice is deep, gravely, and completely serious—you believe him in his entirety. You nod rapidly under his hold. You don’t want the death of anyone to be on your hands, no matter how annoying they are.

“Good. Now stay quiet.”

Billy and Stu take turns fucking themselves up into you. They give you any chance for a break, when one pulls their length almost completely out, the other shoves it in. They take turns pounding themselves into you. Your walls clench hard around them, being stretched to the brim. It takes all your power not to cry out from the pain and pleasure, but the fear from Billy’s unpredictably overpowers all other emotions. 

Billy seems to be caught up in the haze of his own arousal, fingers digging in the skin of your hips as he thrusts his cock in and out of you rhythmically. He groans. “Forgot what it’s like to fuck a tight, wet hole. Sidney still hasn’t put out yet.”

Your body instantly freezes at Billy’s words. In the midst of all the chaos that involved finding out that two of your friends were active serial killers, both of them have been wanting to fuck you, and both of them actually proceeding to fuck you, you were ashamed to admit that you completely forgot about your the rest of your friends downstairs. Sidney and Tatum, two of your closest friends, were partying just below you and were blissfully unaware that you were in fact not resting from the partying, but instead getting your hole absolutely destroyed by their boyfriends just a couple hundred feet away.

The reality of your situation comes back to you and the dread starts to sink in. Instinctively, you begin thrashing your body all around, causing as much commotion as you can. Your nails end up scratching Stu on his arm. “Ow!” he whines out, but it’s a cross between a whimper and a turned on moan. He bites your neck in retaliation. “I like ‘em feisty, you know. Really gets my dick goin’.”

Billy, on the other hand, doesn’t take your failed act of defiance so lightly. His hand reaches up and squeezes your cheeks as he pulls your face close to him, not letting up with the pistoning of his hips.

“Not. A. Word.” Every syllable is spoken individually, heavily gritted out through clenched teeth. At that moment, an array of muffled voices is heard right outside the bedroom door. Billy and you turn to the source of the noise at the same time. Billy turns back to you first. “You know what happens if they walk in,” he trails off darkly, and out of the corner of your eye you can see the glint of his knife as it rests on the side table, within an arm's reach from him. If he wanted to, he could easily slip himself out of you and kill the unsuspecting partygoers within mere seconds.

He buries himself back inside of you as you say that, the two of their cocks fighting for their spots inside of your restrictive walls. Billy and Stu moan in unison at the feeling, both of you gripping onto them and the way they feel pressed up against each other.

As hopeless as your situation may seem in the end, you try to make due with what you have and not let the guilt consume you. There’s nothing you can do about it now unless you want multiple people to wind up dead. It’s fairly easy to erase your mind of anything other than the two guys currently surrounding you, whose relentless thrusts make your vision go white and limbs go numb.

Stu attaches himself onto your neck, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys that’ll last for days. You lean your head back into him, giving him more access to the area. His long tongue licks all around the area, sending shivers down your spine.

His mouth eventually makes its way up to your own and Stu covers it, kissing you with great fervor. His tongue slides into your mouth, swirling it around with your own tongue. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, but it feels perfectly like him. It’s intimate as he massages your tongue and brings his hand up to cup your jaw. In that single moment, you can pretend like your new revelation didn’t exist and that this is just a sensual moment between you and your friend, who’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

But that’s not the case, as Billy brings you back to reality once again. He spanks your ass which has you gasping into Stu’s mouth and your eyes opening wide.

Spit dribbles out the side of your mouth as Stu finally lets up, moaning into your jaw. He gives your neck a big kiss before sucking another hickey into it. “I can be romantic sometimes,” he whispers teasingly into your ear, causing you to shiver.

Billy and Stu pound into you, even harder than before if possible, their hips snapping up against your body.

You know that your orgasm is fast approaching, the various simulations making you feel desperate for a release.

“Please, please, please, please,” your voice is hoarse as you whisper out in a breathy tone to keep as quiet as possible.

“Yeah? You want our cum inside of you?” Billy coaxes you, but you can tell that he’s just as close to reaching his peak as you are given the uneven rhythm of his ruts, pushing slightly against the pattern he had set with Stu.

You nod your head as much as you can, your vision going blurry with the speed you move it. You can feel Billy’s cock throb furiously in you and it's enough to make you reach your own orgasm before him, clapping a hand over your mouth as to not alert your presence to anyone outside.

Billy’s orgasm follows your own soon after, with a strangled moan leaving his lips as his hot cum releases all inside you. The mix of your two juices allows for easier movement within your walls, and after he’s done climaxing Billy slides out of you with ease.

But Stu is nowhere near stopping.

With the result of your’s and Billy’s releases aiding him, Stu ruts himself even further into you. He manhandles you so that instead of your previous position of being twisted in the air as Stu stands behind you, he throws you down on top of the bed and climbs on top of you, humping into you from behind with a newfound vigor.

“Finally get you to myself for a bit,” Stu grits out of his teeth as his hips piston at an immeasurable speed.

You can’t speak at this point, completely cockdrunk from the brunt of the thrusts you’re taking. Stu’s broad body completely engulfs your form as he pounds you into the bedsheets. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, only low whimpers and droll being produced from it.

You can hear the squelching of your pussy, the result of Billy’s cum and your juices, as Stu pounds his cock as far as it reaches. You can feel the release escape the sides of your pussy lips with the brunt of Stu’s thrusts and you can’t help but whine softly as some of the warmth and fullness from the cum leaves your body.

Stu’s hand runs through your hair until he grabs it at the base. He pushes your head down completely into the bed, using much more pressure than what was needed. The force of it causes your ass to arch further into him as he presses his front fully against your back, curving his form as if morphing to the shape of your hunched and fucked out form.

“Now that’s a nice view,” he groans out, one hand at the root of your hair and the other pawing at your ass.

Animalistic grunts leave Stu’s mouth and you can feel as he reaches the cusp of his orgasm. Curses leave his lips as he finally cums, pushing himself inside you as deep as he can and hitting parts never reached before. You can feel the jets of his hot release inside of you as it comes out in huge, thick spurts.

When Stu finally leaves your walls, the mix of all three of your orgasms comes flowing out, making you moan at the loss of the fullness from all three of you.

“C’mon now, push it all outta you,” Billy’s voice calls out from across the room, speaking up from his previous silent observer role as he recovered from his own peak.

You obey, squeezing as much as you can with your weak body. You can feel globs of cum escape your entrance, cooling as it runs down your thighs and onto the sheets below you.

You flinch as you feel Stu’s fingers scoop some out of you, and the smacking of his lips indicates he tasted it. You moan, only able to picture what the scene looks like.

“Oh? You want some?” Stu’s fingers hastily appear in front of you. The fingers from his other hand pull your mouth open and he shoves the cum covered ones inside, making you gag instantly. He rams them in and out of your mouth, barely giving you any time to properly suck on the cum. Flecks of the fluid fly out of your mouth along with your own saliva. Tears fall without a warning, your gag reflex working overtime.

Stu’s fingers fuck your mouth until all of the cum is virtually gone from them. When he finally pulls them out, your body completely collapses. It trembles furiously from all the overstimulation, unable to hold itself up.

Stu gives you a big wet kiss on your cheek and slaps his now-limp cock onto your bare ass. You can only whimper in response, your body too heavy to move any part of it right now. Your vision is blurry, but through it you manage to make out Billy, with his sweaty complexion and rumpled clothes back on his body, talking down to you.

“You stay put until we can get everyone to piss off. We’ll be back for round two.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ghostface #ghostface x reader #billy x reader x stu #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #scream x reader #billy loomis smut #stu macher smut #ghostface smut #scream smut #slasher smut #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers smut

[luveline]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble

sirius/james introducing shy!reader to remus. and shes just like quiet and in awe, but remus loves it.

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! remus x shy fem!reader

James is used to your personality after months of being your lecture neighbour, unperturbed by your quiet. "It's going to be fun," he promises, handing you a cold glass of cranberry vodka. "They're nice, okay? I won't let anyone irritate you." 

He's hosting a party and had the generosity to invite you round early. He's easing you in, so to speak. It took him two weeks of steady Hellos for you to work up the courage to say Hi back, another two weeks for small talk, a month before you felt comfortable speaking to him first. If you're that shy, a party is basically torture.

"It's not about irritating me," you say. 

"I know, I'm messing." James lists his head to the left. A second later, there's a knock at the door. "Aha. Wait here, shortcake, there's someone I want you to meet." 

"James," you say after him, wet from your glass leaking down to your sleeve, "what?" 

"I asked him to come early and say hello! He's quiet and handsome and you'll love him, just don't stare at his nose." 

What's wrong with his nose? you think, alarmed. 

James opens the door. Two new voices emerge, one scratchy and a little high, the other smoother. "I need to pee so bad," the scratchy one declares, followed by bounding footsteps up the stairs. 

"You alright?" the smoother asks.

You think there's patting, a hug, "I'm brilliant! You smell really nice, Remus, like a garden." 

"Lovely."

"In a good way! Come and meet my Y/N, you remember I told you about her nice gel pens?" 

James leads the smooth-voiced Remus into the living room. You hurriedly put down your drink and stand, wiping your wet hands in your shirt. You cringe at the darkening fabric but hide your grimace as they stop in front of you. 

"Remus, Y/N. Y/N, Remus," James introduces you both. 

Remus has a scar across his nose that seems cruelly cut. There's another beside it that starts in his upper lip, both of which end in his eyebrow. You know how self-conscious it feels to be looked at, so you manage to smile and offer your hand without too much of it. He's handsome with his scars, a nice nose with a ridge and brown eyes the colour of caramelised sugar.

"Hello," Remus says, shaking your hand. His is big enough to make yours feel small. 

"I invited her early because she's more fun than the rest of our lot," James says, throwing himself down on the sofa and kicking his legs out on the coffee table. 

Remus taps your elbow very gently as if to usher you to sit and sits down beside you, enough space to be casual but too little to stop the rampant nerves that blossom in your stomach. 

Remus asks about your life. What you're studying, where you're from, if James is being nice to you. While James is touchy in the rough older brother way, scrunching your shoulder and shaking you when you're not expecting it. Remus is touchy in a different way, you find, almost as if he doesn't know he's doing it. His shoe bumps your shoe, his hand falls down between his outer thigh and your own, his knuckles touching your jeans very lightly. He spins in his seat to talk to you. 

You don't notice other people arriving, nor the scratchy-voiced friends return. All you can do is look up at Remus with wide eyes. Your nerves meld to something warmer. 

"And what do you do?" you ask him. 

He smiles like you've wandered into a secret. "I'm trying to write a book." 

"He's being a bit much," Sirius says to James, the two now loitering in the doorway with matching beers. You and Remus chatter on, unaware of their running commentary.

"It's a very strong reaction. I knew she'd like him, but I didn't think she'd like him like that." James takes a sip of his drink. Remus asks you a quiet question. You duck your head, playing with your sleeves, and Remus, the bastard, ducks his head to follow your gaze, smiling at you all the while. 

James almost chokes, pointing his bottle toward you both as though Sirius isn't already looking. "He's eating it up. I forgot how flirty he is."

"She'll be nice to him, won't she?" Sirius asks, like it's a done deal. To be fair, Remus seems enthralled with you. 

"Definitely. She's very nice. Oh, look, that's sick, she's gonna pass out." James winces as Remus takes your arm into his hand. 

Remus wouldn't do anything cruel, but James wasn't joking when he told Remus that you were exceedingly, achingly shy. He's about to step in and rescue you, but you turn into Remus' touch and pull your leg up on the sofa to make yourself comfortable. Your voice is animated, if quieter than the average person's.

"Woah," James says, beaming.  

Remus flirts almost as a defence, like he wants to get the rejection over and done with so he can move on. You've yet to reject; you're looking up at him in moderate awe, your lips quirked into an easy smile. 

"Boo!" James calls, flicking his bottle cap at Remus, who brushes it away. "Took me three weeks to get a smile out of her," he mutters. "What a dick." 

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #luveline's 40k party

[allbark-no-bite]

things friends do.

felix catton x reader (wc: 3.1k)

summary: things friends do include but are not excluded to: sleeping in each other’s bed, kissing, sharing beer, fucking each other

warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex

author’s note: y’all i have refused to believe that jacob elordi was attractive but saltburn did me in

————————————————————————

You were not in love with Felix Catton.

And Felix Catton was not in love with you.

He was a lover boy, but he was not your lover boy.

The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it. But it didn't feel that way. You never felt as though you were owned by him. It was just that he was Felix and who didn't want to belong to him?

Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other inappropriately naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.

But this was Felix.

Not Oliver, or Farleigh, or Veneita. Felix.

—

The party is so electric that you're not sure if it's the music or your own erratic heartbeat thumping in your ears. The place is so packed that at some point the entire bar had become part of the main dance floor in order to accommodate for the dizzying array of overheated, intoxicated bodies moving this way and that. Blue light illuminates the otherwise dark room. Flashes of neon green splash across swaying bodies, highlighting dancers as they navigate the floor.

To no one's surprise, Felix is in the center of it all. He'd gravitated towards the pole in the middle of the room like a magnet and had taken to it to pay his dues, his slender body rolling to the music with all of his typical charisma.

After a few beers, you're pleasantly buzzed, but you'll probably be toeing the line once you finish the fourth in your hand. Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of your dorm room. Farleigh is right behind him, likely just as intoxicated, but with him you could never tell. Farleigh was always the same catty bitch no matter how drunk or sober he was. You loved him, but he was a bitch.

A heavy weight suddenly staggers upon your shoulders, and you groan against the weight, both you and Felix swaying dangerously to the side as he throws his arm around you. Usually this wouldn't work because he's so ridiculously tall but the alcohol had made him a little less coordinated than usual and he's slouched down to closer to your height. Beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup and splashes onto the floor at your feet.

"Having fun, darling?" he asks, half shouting in your ear to be heard over the music.

"Always," you laugh, though it's mostly directed at him.

His skin is clammy with sweat and his breath is coated with the familiar, yeasty smell of beer. "Where's Farleigh?" Felix doesn't even wait for your response before he's shouting for him. "Ay! Farleigh!" There's a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the same hand that's holding onto his cup, and he raises it to get his friend's attention.

His arm still around you, you dodge the spilling liquid heading for your feet. "Felix! Felix, careful!" you scold him, still laughing, so the smile doesn't disappear from his face.

In an attempt to solve the problem, he leans forward and starts to swallow back the remainder of the beer in his cup. He must underestimate just how much he had left to go because it starts to escape past the sides of his mouth, dripping past his jaw and down the front of his open shirt.

You shriek again. "Felix!"

Laughing, he pulls the cup away and brings it towards you. Before you can protest, he's tipping it back into your mouth. He leaves you no choice but to swallow it or wear it across the front of your shirt so you do your best to drink the remaining beer, more nursing from the cup than gulping as Felix was.

It leaves your lips and chin wet, and before you can wipe the excess beer away, Felix does it himself, somewhat roughly dragging his thumb under your lip. He then sucks the digit into his mouth, hardly thinking twice about it. It would have been erotic with anyone else. But this was everyday with Felix. It would have been weird if you hadn't chugged the backwash of his beer.

His attention is just as quickly drug from you to Farleigh. You hadn't noticed the other boy approaching. He gives you a wicked smile, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something but refrains. You tilt your head, prepared to ask him what his mischievous look is all about but Felix interrupts you.

"Farleigh, mate," Felix begins still hugging you close. "The girls are looking a bit bored. What do ya think?"

Across the room, India and Annabel are sitting on a couch together. The piece of furniture itself has certainly seen better days, torn and stained with bodily fluids of varying levels of disgusting. There's a guy with his arm slung around India, but for all she's paying attention to him, he might as well not exist. She's drinking from a bottle of champagne and couldn't look less interested in him.

Farleigh's eyes track from you to Felix, as though making some sort of connection, then he smiles cheshire-like. "Oh yeah, mate. You know, I do think India was actually looking for you earlier." His sinister brown eyes lock with yours, as if waiting for you to object. "Why don't you go put her out of her misery. (Y/n) and I will go busy ourselves at the bar."

Felix grins crookedly, nothing but honest fun shining in his blown pupils. "I will see you two later."

He straightens but not before twisting his neck, body still plastered to yours, and he plants a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. His lips taste like beer and nicotine. It's not really even a kiss, just a lack of coordination on Felix's part that he didn't catch your cheek. If Farleigh hadn't been trying to start something in the first place, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it.

It's not the first time Felix has kissed you. Hell, he's probably even kissed Farleigh at some point. Maybe not on the mouth because they were cousins, but that's besides the point. Friends kissed each other all the time. This wasn't anything new.

As Felix removes himself from you, his tall figure walking over to grab India's hand and lead her from the couch, the guy who had been flirting with her for the past hour glaring after them, you level your stare with Farleigh's. "What's that look about?"

Farleigh crosses his arms, looking as full of himself as ever, and rolls his eyes. He really was a bitch sometimes. "Fuck the friend code and fuck him already. You know you want to."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't want to fuck him, Farleigh."

You don't. Things just weren't like that between you and Felix. Sure, maybe there had been a few occasions where you'd sucked him off and he'd done the same for you in return but that was all purely situational. There were no feelings attached. Just two friends who were close enough to do that kind of thing without it being weird.

Farleigh just scoffs at your ignorance, pushing past you with his shoulder to head over to the bar. "Just like sweet little Ollie doesn't want to fuck him? Please, neither of you look at him all that different."

"Everyone looks at him like that," you argue. "He's Felix."

"No, everyone looks at him like they want his dick in their mouth. You look at him like you'd let him do absolutely anything he fucking wants to you. And honestly, (Y/n), it's kinda sad." He says the last part with faux pity, his voice demeaning.

You scowl at him as he turns back around and walks over to the bar.

Fuck Farleigh. You did not want to fuck Felix.

And fuck him for putting the thought in your head.

—

It's nearing two am by the time you remove yourself from the bar. You're no more intoxicated than you were earlier, having cut yourself off after chugging the last of Felix's drink, but you weren't particularly keen on walking in on Felix and India after tonight so you'd resigned yourself to sitting on a barstool for the remainder of the night.

You keep telling yourself that you weren't bothered by him having sex with her, but Farleigh had put the thought in your head and it wouldn't leave.

Of course you liked Felix. Who didn't like Felix? But did you want to sleep with him? No.

Maybe.

It wasn't like he wouldn't do it if you asked. But Felix would have sex with anything that walked. And you weren't India. You were his best friend. And no matter now many times you two had pushed the line of being just friends, having sex with him would completely ruin the line all together. And then what? There nowhere to go after you start dating your best friend. If it crashes and burns it's game over. And with Felix, that was a guarantee.

You pass India going opposite of you down the hall. One of the straps of her dress is hanging off her shoulder, bedazzled high heels in her hands as she struggles to slip them back on. There's a dark purple hickey at the junction of her throat and collarbone and another lighter one above her breast. You don't say anything to her, just push past her into Felix's dorm.

He's sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?"

You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around empty boxes of pizza and abandoned articles of clothing until you find something that looks wearable. You unzip your dress, only half turned away from him as you pull on one of his shirts. He's seen you naked before and so your ass and the side of your boobs is hardly scandalous to him.

"Farleigh is an ass," you retort, crawling onto his mattress to settle into the empty space at his side. It's without a doubt the same space that India had been just a few minutes before.

Felix frowns, the piercing his brow moving downwards with the expression. "What's he said to you?" His tone is concerned because he knows how his cousin can be.

You just sigh in response, shifting into a more comfortable position at his side. Felix takes another drag of his cigarette while he waits for your response. Farleighs words run through your head again.

"Why haven't we had sex?"

He actually laughs at that one, sitting up on one of his elbows so that he can see you better. The shag of his dark brunette hair hangs over his forehead as he looks down at you. "Do you want to have sex?"

While his tone is amused and humorous, you know he's genuinely asking. Felix would never make fun of you for that kind of thing.

You shrug, looking up into his bemused brown eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"

This conversation shouldn't be as casual as you're making it out to be, and maybe it wouldn't have been with anyone else, but this is Felix. He's your best friend.

Slowly, he leans down and places a kiss on your lips. It's fairly brief, hardly even long enough for you to kiss him back before he's pulling away. "Then let's have sex," he says, and it's as simple as that.

Felix leans down again, connecting your mouths. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts from where he'd been laying beside you to bracket your hips with his knees. His long fingers find the buttons of his shirt that you just put on and begin to unbutton them, his hands sliding down your sides until you're squirming.

"Felix," you whine, already short of breath from his touch.

"Relax, baby. I've got you," he murmurs into your mouth, sliding one of his hands into your hair, the blunt of his nails scraping against your scalp. It gives him enough purchase to tip your head back and expose your neck to his unrelenting mouth. The hot heat of his mouth pants against the underside of your jaw, the wet muscle of his tongue laving along your throat.

His other hand slides down your hip, then your thigh before coming to your panties. You have to force yourself not to squirm away in anticipation. Thankfully, Felix isn't a tease and he uses two of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. You do, however, jump when he slides them into your slick hole without any hesitation.

The bastard snickers against your throat. "Sorry," he apologizes, kissing apologetically at your jaw. "I guess I should have warned you."

All you can do is huff, your fingers tugging at his tangle of brown hair. He grins at your inability to respond before kissing your mouth again. He swallows the noise that escapes you when he curls his fingers and your back arches off of the bed. He does it again, this time scissoring them to stretch your hole. The burn is more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but it leaves you gasping into his open mouth.

Just when you think that's all he has to offer with his fingers, they somehow slip even further, hitting some part deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed. He curls them and you actually cry out, your knees knocking at his hips to push him away.

"I know, I know," he soothes, using the broadness of his shoulders to keep your legs in place. Felix curls his fingers into your smooth walls a few more times, his thumb circling your clit until you swear you can't take anymore. It's torture, the length of his two fingers inside of you.

Finally, he pulls them away before you can actually start crying. Your arousal coats his long fingers and drips down his wrist, glistening in the darkness of his room. Felix's brown eyes hold yours as he sticks them into his mouth, refusing to look away even as his tongue dips between them. You can barley swallow the spit in your mouth.

Felix grins, leaning down to kiss you. Even if you hadn't wanted to taste yourself on his lips, he doesn't give you much of a choice, his tongue dipping into your mouth. He moans, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard.

Then he's disconnecting your mouths to slide down his boxers. His hard cock bobs free, brushing against the lean planes of his stomach. You've seen Felix's dick before. It's no surprise to you how large he is— incredibly long with a perfectly mushroomed tip— but you've never had to think about it actually going inside of you.

His hand catches your jaw, forcing you to look at his face. There must have been flash of fear in your eyes because he murmurs sweetly, "Look at my face, okay? I want to see you."

You nod as best you can in his hold.

You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but he misses the first try, his cock sliding through your slick and nudging at your clit. Your whole body jolts but his hand at your throat holds you in place.

The second time, his mushroomed head catches at your hole and he slips in, meeting little resistance. He slides in only another inch or so before stopping, his cock already snug inside of you. You whine when he tries to push in further.

Felix kind of laughs, his hand reaching down to circle his thumb at your clit. "M'sorry, baby. You're so tight. Just give me a second."

You swallow, willing back tears. It's not that it hurts, not really, just the fact that he feels so good and you want him inside of you.

Without warning, his hand splays across your stomach and he uses the leverage to push further inside of you. This time your muscles relax enough around him and he slides all the way in.

You moan at the feel of him entirely inside of you.

“There we go,” he groans, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he holds himself up. Now fully inside of you, he begins rocking his hips, his dick hitting that spongey spot inside of you with every thrust. Felix is breathing heavily into your ear, the squelching of him sliding in and out of you the only other sound in the room.

Soon Felix hits a spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and almost immediately you’re coming, clenching around him as you do so.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Felix thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out just before he can come inside of you. He spills partially onto the bed and partially onto your stomach. When he’s finished, he holds himself up over you avoiding his own release leaking onto you stomach.

When his eyes find yours, he grins, that signature crooked smile appearing onto his face. You can’t help but laugh, your head falling back into the pillow. Felix laughs too. Not because he particularly knows what’s so funny but because you’re laughing.

You’re laughing and he loves you.

He leans over grabbing a tissue from the box beside his bed and wipes you off as best as he can before tossing it onto the floor and laying back down beside you, an arm behind his head You rest your head on his other arm, scooting in closer to his side.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, looking down at you.

You smile to yourself, watching his toes nudge yours instead of looking back at him. “About what?”

“(Y/n), we’ve been friends since grade school and probably kissed a million times.”

Eventually you look up at him, doing your best to not look so sheepish. “Farleigh told me I was worse than Oliver. Can you believe that?”

Felix scoff, his fingers scratching through your hair. “I wouldn’t fuck Oliver.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah you would.”

Felix barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I would,” he agrees.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #saltburn #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #jacob elordi #jacob elordi imagine #felix catton smut