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honestlywtfisgoingon · 3 months

Text

GET A LITTLE LOUD. I DON’T MIND.

—WITH GOJO SATORU

REMEMBER: THE CLASSROOMS AT JUJUTSU HIGH AREN’T EXACTLY SOUNDPROOF…

content: teacher!gojo, teacher!reader, husband!gojo, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, semi-public sex, against the wall, over the desk, creampie, gagging, panty-theft, use of names slut and whore, not proofread

notes: i’m back this is crazyyyy!! i literally wrote every other day and thought about posting but i never finished anything and then all of a sudden it’s been years :O and im back w gojo brainrot. p.s. obi content is still coming but u just gotta be patient sorry i literally am so rusty

words: 3374

“toru! they’re gonna hear you, not me!” you worried your words wouldn’t get past the lewd sounds gojo was making as he rammed his dick in and out of your pussy. he did all this while holding you against the wall of the classroom— where anyone could come in.

“oh, i’m not worried about getting us caught” each of his words was let out between harsh moans, breath heavy as he kept his open mouth pressed against your neck. so he did hear your concern, it just made absolutely no difference to him. there wasn’t even a stutter in his pace, set hard and fast as soon as he slipped inside you only a bit ago.

“then why’re you covering my mouth?” one of his large hands smothered the entire bottom half of your face, but you managed to squeeze your words through the small sliver of space between gojos long fingers just like before.

“because i can actually stop myself from screaming. can you?” he was taunting you, sure, but the truth in it had you blushing. you were a little embarrassed of how easy it was to get a sound out of you. it was hard for you to keep everything in when you were naturally so vocal, and it only got harder the closer you were to coming. satoru always loved the moment he could see your conscious efforts to stay quiet become entirely abandoned in pleasure. once you couldn’t hold back, neither did he, fucking you as hard as he could, until he wrung out every little praise, and whimper, from your pretty throat. when you couldn’t help but shout his name for everyone to hear was his favorite, and he hated having to smother all the noises that always turned him into a horny teenager. he didn’t hold back his own grunts and groans though, letting them out freely in the classroom, which you didn’t think was very fair.

“that’s n-aah!” you couldn’t help but prove him right, a high-pitched moan jumping from your throat when he lifted you up, only to slam you back down where he was waiting to meet your hips a particularly eager thrust of his own.

“mhmm there it is.” he gave a smug little laugh that was always so familiar coming from him. satisfied that he had proven his point, he went back to making sure you kept quiet. instead of using his hands to muffle you this time, he smothered them with his own deep groan through a passionate kiss.

it didn’t help your case that your only response was an increasingly dazed look in your eyes. he clapped a large hand over your mouth again as you clung to him for dear life. your nails scraped at the back of his expensive dress shirt, feeling the muscles of his back react to the sensation. you raked them up to the softly shaved snow on his nape, pushing another groan out of him. only one of satoru’s hands were free, but he was doing the work for both of them. sometimes your husband was gentle and soft during sex— this was not one of those times. there was nothing sweet about how he groped your ass, gripping and kneading at the skin harshly. every so often one of his fingers brushed against your unoccupied hole while his palms spread your ass slightly.

gravity had you feeling like he was fucking his cock into you well past your pussy. you felt a pleasurable shock each time he hit that perfect spot, shooting up your body. how could it not feel that good with the way you met him with every bounce on his pretty cock. you both got closer and closer, but not quite there. you knew from the beginning that would be short, but you two couldn’t resist a quickie. honestly, you couldn’t resist any opportunity to fuck.

the truth is, he meant it when he said he really didn’t care about being caught from all the noise, but he also didn’t like that getting caught meant having to stop before he could make you finish.

even deeper than that desire, the one he didn’t want to admit just yet, was his possessive need. satoru wanted to keep those pretty little screams all to himself. he figured that he was the one helping you make them, he should be the one who decides that only he gets to hear them. people could still know just who was claiming you by his own pornographic professions of pleasure. Maybe he would let you cry out in the end to reward you, if only because he wanted to hear you say his name like you always did.

to get you there, he was going to have to go just a little harder to push you over the edge. chasing both of your highs, he used all that famous speed of his to switch positions and bend you over the desk. it all happened so fast that even if he slipped out, you didn’t feel it.

the new angle already allowed him to go deeper, but it also allowed you to arch your back. satoru didn’t moan, he whined at the sight. he always loved seeing just how far you’d bend for him— literally. it made his cock throb inside of you, the blood pulsing through the veins along his shaft that were making each drag against your walls take you closer to heaven.

still muting you but no longer having to hold you up, he used a free hand to bully your clit as well as your hole. there was so much sap dripping down from your pussy, making the noise that rang out everytime your ass and his hips met even more vulgar. he easily gathered up some of the wet mix of both your juice and his precum on two of his fingers removing his hand from your mouth only to shove his fingers in instead.

“mmm fuck baby, taste yourself. taste us.” you gagged on them, the choking sound canceling out the much louder whines you were about to make.

he desperately tore off his blindfold, shoving it in your mouth as a gag and telling you to play with your pussy. even before his hand could grip your hips though, you were already meeting his thrusts.

he gripped your hips with his large hands, squeezing your body beneath him, “oh shit. yeah yeah please. keep slamming that ass back on me princess. please please please.” he begged as if he was at your mercy, even though his inescapable grip was the only thing keeping you from falling limp. he grit his teeth, feeling you tighten around him. you went from throbbing to squeezing him like a vice as your orgasm suddenly shocked through you. you shook, your knees knocking a bit as you used your last bit of strength to push back on him, feeling as much of his cock as you could while you creamed on it. your eyes rolled back almost like they were compensating for the screams you couldn’t let out.

as sensitive as you were, satoru wasn’t done yet.

“so so close, hold out princess.”

the gag slipped from your slacked jaw, but you bit your lip to stop any noise that came from the sensitivity. you nodded and satoru petted your head and smiled. with just your lip to stop you from making noise and you so close to coming, satoru didn’t give a shit about volume anymore. you were about to let out some of the sluttiest moans like you always do when you come, and he wasn’t gonna miss them for anyone. “You know what? get a little loud. i don’t mind,” just before ramming in so hard that he knocked over the desk. the last of your moans morphed into a panicked scream, mingled with the crash and bang of the desk falling, along with all the objects on it. you were nearly one of those things if satoru hadn’t tightly gripped your hips and your neck, keeping you fused together. so much was happening, but he made sure that you were right where you needed to be for him to pour all his cum inside you. it seemed that after everything, your voice couldn’t handle much more than a little whimper when you felt all his hot, thick cum filling you up. you always tightened your legs out of instinct to hold it all in, and it also helped you keep standing as he shuddered, letting a long stream of broken groans and eventually whimpers just by your ear. he wanted so badly to take his time watching his cum drip out of your hole just to gather every drop not inside you on his fingers and shove it back in. you always begged for his cum huh? he’d be a bad husband if he didn’t give you all of it.

shit. his mind cleared he assessed the damage less than a moment after. even with all this clutter on the floor, at least he didn’t add his cum to it he thought. still, the biggest mess was between your legs, and he couldn’t help but feel a little proud about the two of you.

he immediately picked you up like a ragdoll and sat you down on a desk. you still felt your tongue threaten to loll out but you threw a leg over his shoulder out of instinct, giving him access between your legs to clean up the slick that covered your sex and thighs with his blindfold. it was already covered in spit anyway.

“fuck. someone definitely heard that” he murmured during his rushed clean up.

“who’s fault now huh—“ you were cut off by satoru’s reaction to hearing approaching steps he yanked you forward to button your shirt as you realized the person was running, very, very fast. you were both so relieved that you still had your skirt and he still had his pants on, leaving you one less thing to trip over. while he fumbled with your clothes you zipped up his pants and buckled his belt. gojo had just finished the very important task of checking to make sure no cum was leaking past your panties before yuuji came bursting through the door. you immediately hopped off the desk and smoothed down your hair and your skirt, while gojo tried to pass off his ruffled hair by acting like he’d been running his hand through it.

“hey, are you guys ok? we thought we heard something crash.” yuuji eyes darted to the desk on the floor, completely missing the raging blush on gojos face and the slight wobble in your knees. he opened his mouth to ask only to be shoved through the door when nobara came in hot behind him.

“hey! i thought we were all gonna check it out!” she scolded him with her whines.

“not my fault you’re slow!” he defended.

finally megumi strolled in, looking as nonchalant about the whole thing as he could be, in great contrast to his best friends.

“students!” you turned to satoru as he addressed them enthusiastically, “your teachers were just training and made a bit of a mess.” wow. that excuse just…well it sucks. you almost wanted to roll your eyes but had to do a double take. where did he get his glasses from? when did he put them on? leave it to gojo to keep his accessories on hand. it did help distract from how puffy and pink his lips were as he spoke.

“you were fighting in here?” yuuji tilted his head in question. combined with his big brown eyes, his actions had him looking like a puppy.

“it was impromptu.” you bolstered gojos excuse while trying not to cringe at how bad it was to begin with.

“ooh were you like couple fighting?” nobara jumped in with her question. it seemed she was way too intrigued by the prospect of drama to question how much sense it actually made, and you had absolutely no objections to that right now.

“wait things can get that heated to where you battle??” oh yuuji. he asked as if nobara knew all there was to know about the subject.

“no, no!” you waved your hands frantically, only to be completely tuned out once the two kids entered the mode of conspiracy. they talked lowly but didn’t whisper, as if you couldn’t hear them literally talking about you five feet away.

“i mean they totally look like they got into it.” nobaras chin was between her thumb and pointer finger while her eyes narrowed in inspection, yuuji mimicking her actions. after a second of tapping her cheek, she pointed directly at her sensei, making you and satoru almost jump a little bit. wow you had to get a hold of yourself. “no offense, but you should probably fix your hair.” nobara stated bluntly. gojo pouted. you thought he was adorable but also made a note to compliment his hair later.

megumi had been silent, not even really looking at you or the mess. his eyes just wandered the walls until it seemed like something clicked in his braim. his eyes darted back and forth between you and gojo. suddenly rolling his eyes letting out an exasperated “oh my god,” megumi just dragged a hand over his eyes and his face. he wasted no time turning around and walking away, seeming absolutely done with you two.

he caught nobaras curiosity and had her chasing him out the door and down the hall where you could hear her calling out “hey! hey, fushiguro come back!”

“hey wait what’s he talking about.” yuuji looked increasingly confused as he followed suit.

you almost slumped in relief you were so tired and you had to put effort into standing straight and not just falling into gojo. he looked at your relieved and tired face with a goofy smile. that smile. it disappeared as soon as you started slapping his arm.

“sa-to-ru!” a slap accompanied each syllable. “that was the worst excuse ever! there’s no way they’re not going to figure it out!” your hands kept slapping his bicep, but were just as quick to wrap around it right after. you pressed your cheek against the expensive cotton sleeve as you hugged his arm tightly and pouted just like he did as you looked up.

“c’mon let’s be real here, megumi would rather die than discuss our sex life with his friends. plus, we’re married, princess. i’m pretty sure a husband fucking his wife is like, the least surprising thing ever.” he rolled his eyes as he turned to wrap his arms around your waist, your hands resting on his chest.

“what about itadori? i’d hate for that kid to lose his innocence,”

“innocent? that kid is a self-proclaimed ass man.” taking advantage of the subject, one of satorus own hands came to rest on your ass. you quirked a brow but he pretended not to see your face and just continued, “i also saw a pinup poster in his room,”

“wait, really?” you stopped and shook your head a bit, like it would help you refocus on what you remembered you were talking about, “oh but still, toru, i know they know we have sex but—“

“but what?” he sighed, waiting for your most definitely poor reasoning.

“i don’t know, just” you started blushing and he knew that little embarrassed look. he knew you always liked to play the good girl, to hold on to your pride. if it didn’t make for such a fun game he’d say it’s a total waste of time knowing, without fail, he’d have you on his leash in minutes (literally or metaphorically depending on what your setting allowed). a single long finger tilted your chin up, his face suddenly so close to yours.

“oh you’re not worried about them finding out about my wife being fucked, you're worried about them finding out that she likes to be fucked like a slut.” such crude words came out in delicate breaths that fanned across your face.

“no!” your voice died out instantly when he pulled you a little closer again, your noses now touching instead of just your breath.

“hard enough for the desk to fall and loud enough to scream.” you had had sex minutes ago, and even worse, had almost gotten caught, and yet he was saying and doing everything to make your pussy throb all over again. you were always so easy for him to play with, never offering any real objections despite your attitude. “yeah? you don’t want them to know how desperate you are, how you just couldn’t keep your legs closed until we got home? because that’s all you want, isn’t it.” he whispered in your ear, your eyes fluttering back with chills. the sensation of him placing kisses on your neck brought you back to your senses once again.

“please, as if you didn’t run around the whole school just to say you needed ‘help’”

“and you’re suchhhh a good little helper for me, baby,”, he went to kiss you on the mouth you returned it, but as soon as he deepened it, you pushed him away and he had the audacity to look hurt. you were getting whiplash from having to repeatedly pull yourself together just to fall right into his hands again.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. i swear we almost got caught there’s no way we can go another round. you’re insatiable gojo satoru.”

“mhmm, we both are, mrs. gojo satoru.” he tapped your nose before lowering his voice once again. “so, how bout i take these panties, and we go home when my cum is about to leak past your skirt, huh?”

“fine. deal.” you huffed, but spread your legs quickly. he went on one knee to pull your panties down, enjoying the picture of your pussy and leaving a kiss on your clit which made you hiss, before he had the fabric dropping to your ankles. you stepped out of them and he swiftly pocketed them.

“i love my wifey so much!” he stood up and kissed you with a cute smile as if he hadn’t just shove your panties down his pants.

“that’s good because love you too toru,” you said softly, hands clasped behind your back and rocking back and forth on your heels with a lovesick look like a schoolgirl. honestly, he never stopped making you feel like one.

“aww so sweet.” he tucked a hair behind your hair, sending butterflies past your stomach and to your whole body, but you just knew that wasn’t all. “who woulda thought you were such a whore?” ah, theres your satoru.

“only for you” you patted his cheek jokingly, but he just groaned with his whole body. he had to do things in the most dramatic way possible of course.

“ugh. baby, you can’t just say things like that and then—“

you pushed him off, leaving him, arms still stretched out reaching for you, even after you walked out the door. he looked at the clock before deciding it was max 30 minutes before you asked to go home. you came back in 10.

— bonus:

“well i mean the honeymoon stage is like that, although it’s annoying and gross.” nobara shrugged while still stirring her boba.

“they’ve been married for 7 years. dated for 10.” megumi responded quietly, nobara consequently spewing her drink.

“no way! they act all starry-eyed and all that stuff still.” yuujis own eyes opened wider in surprise

“yeah that’s what i thought too!” it helped nobara that even yuuji had the same idea too. “ugh now that i know they’re just like that it’s kinda gross.”

“wait megumi if they’ve dated for 10 years, you lived with both of them at the same time, right?” both of megumis friends leaned closer to him, eager to hear where yuujis question went, but he didn't even look at them.

“yeah what about it,” he said as nonchalantly as ever. this was a topic he had always made a point never to dwell on.

“so you had to have heard—“

“okay, that’s enough. we’re never talking about this again.” ideas like yuujis were the exact reason why megumi refused to feel his interest. ideas like yuujis made him want to die from remembering just how many times he accidentally heard the two of you…daily.

“yeah gross, good idea.”

“um yeah, you’re right, don’t answer that actually.”

2K notes · View notes

remuslupinslittleslut · 1 month

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Okay hear me out teach me dynamic with a reward. James and Sirius have been so good so reader convincing Remus to let them spit roast her or one in the ass one in the pussy yknow while he watches, making sure they fuck her just right and eventually ends up joining somehow.

Idk just an idea

love your work xoxo

I got a bit excited and now this ended up being almost 2k. LOVED this request though, I'm thinking I might have to make a new list just for the teach me stuff, like it's another kind of poly marauders. If I had the energy to post content warning I probably would on this one it is quite filthy from time to time, but it thought it was v fun :)

Masterlist.

You had made a deal; if your boyfriends played well out on the pitch today, you’d give them a reward. It was a bit of an excuse, really, because they always played well.

Holding the hand of Remus, you sat on the edge of your seat, cheering as James made another goal. As he did a victory lap on his broom, your cheeks heated up – he always made sure to send you a wink and a wide grin. The cocky bastard knew what was coming. Squeezing Remus’ hand, you leaned in to whisper in his ear; “They’re good, really good.”

Remus chuckled, squeezing your hand in return. “Yeah,” he murmured, against your ear, eyes never leaving his two other partners. “We’re gonna have to give them a treat.”

To no one’s surprise, Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw with over 100 points, leading to a roaring party up in Gryffindor tower. The party, however, was just background noise as you waited on Sirius’ bed.

You and Remus had agreed, he’d tie you up in gold and red ribbons, leave you in their dorm and go get the others, who would be gifted your body for them to unwrap.

The cold air made your nipples perk as you lay on the bed. It was a dangerous game, you knew, letting your two subs take control over your body, allowing them to play the role of the dominant person, if only for a night. Remus had cautioned you, but after becoming submissive with Remus alone, you thought it might be fun to let them as well – besides, Remus would be there the entire time, watching, making sure everything went as it should.

“Are we getting our gift?” You heard Sirius’ voice as they walked up the stairs, excitement evident.

“Is Y/N in here?” James followed, just as excited.

Stopping just outside the door, you heard Remus speak, his voice determined and rough. “You’re about to be rewarded, not just for your performance today, but also for your good behavior these past few days,” he said, and you knew the look on his face without having to see him. “You’re going to be allowed one evening of full control – but remember, if you disobey any of our underlying rules, you will still get punished. Can you tell me what they are?”

“Don’t hurt ourselves or anyone else, always listen to safewords, always check for consent, don’t be rude to daddy and no lasting injuries,” James listed, as the good boy he always was.

“Good Jamie,” Remus’ voice was softer now. “Go ahead then.”

As the door opened, you felt your heartbeat quicken.

“Wow,” Sirius gasped, the first person in through the door. “Pretty girl, all wrapped up for us?”

You turned your head to face him from where you lay on his bed, ribbons cutting into your skin, making sure you stayed in place. You nodded as your cheeks heated once more.

“Prongs, you’ve gotta see this,” Sirius cooed, dragging James along.

James’ eyes were wide and glossy from behind round glasses, his brown cheeks tinted pink as well.

“Go ahead, boys,” Remus said, plopping down on his own bed. “Unwrap your gift.”

Their eyes moved between your body and Remus’, not sure if they were actually allowed. But when Remus chuckled and nodded once more, they pounced, hopping onto the bed and pulling at the strings around your body.

“Hi darling, you’re so pretty f’me,” Sirius said, leaning down to kiss you. His lips tasted like firewhiskey and his long hair tickled your face.

James was busy making sure all pieces of ribbon left your body, before he allowed his hands to grab at your tits.

“Go on then, boys,” Remus said from his own bed. “Get on with it.” Looking over to him, you saw his hand was wrapped around his semi-hard cock, slowly jerking up and down.

Arching your back, you tried to push James’ hands harder into your chest, as you moaned into Sirius’ mouth.

“Is that what you want, princess?” Asked Sirius, hand holding your chin as he pulled away slightly. “You want us to fuck you? Make you cum on our cocks while daddy watches?”

They knew you sometimes let Remus be your daddy, even as you were mommy to Sirius and James – but they’d never used it against you like that. It was hot, very hot, and you felt yourself slip further into your submissive persona even more as you desperately nodded up at Sirius. “Please.”

“Jamie, look at that, little slut wants us to fuck her,” Sirius taunted.

James still looked a little uneasy with the switched positions, but you reached out a hand to hold his. “Jamie, please, wanna taste you,” you whined, trying to ease him into it. “Please, Jamie, let me suck your cock.”

Your words made James’ eyes widen, before he looked to Remus, again. “Can I?” He asked.

“Yes, James, you can do whatever you want to her, for tonight,” Remus assured, cock growing harder.

Nodding, James got up and started undressing. Sirius did the same.

Having gotten consent, James wasted no time straddling your chest and leaning down to kiss you quickly before placing his hard cock right in front of your face. Doing a half crunch, you pushed your head up and opened your mouth, tongue falling out, eyes meeting James’. “Fuck,” he groaned, hips coming forward enough to push his cock into your open and waiting mouth. Using your tongue, you licked around the head, spreading precum around. He always tasted so good.

Between your legs, you felt Sirius’ fingers pushing against your swollen clit before diving deeper, slipping into your wet cunt. You were prepared, had let Remus finger you open before, making sure you were ready for your boys. Still, Sirius’ expert fingers plunging in and out of your pussy felt fuckin’ amazing.

“Such a good girl,” James murmured, having pulled out of your mouth temporarily, allowing you to breathe.

“The best,” Sirius agreed, tongue reaching out to lap at your sensitive nub. “So pretty, so tasty.”

You moaned, arching your back. It felt so nice, receiving all that attention and praise, and if you looked to the side, you saw Remus smiling softly, hand squeezing the root of his cock, trying to stop himself from cuming.

“Such a little cock-whore, though,” Sirius said, pushing the limits even further. “D’you want me to fill your little hole? D’you need cock on both ends to be happy?”

James groaned, Sirius’ words had made you moan around James’ cock, now back in your mouth, and the vibrations sent pleasure all through James’ body. “I think she does, pads,” James said, hand brushing hair out of your face.

Sirius’ fingers left you, making you feel empty and alone, but it wasn’t long until his cock replaced them, filling your dripping cunt, making you speared on cock from both ends. This was heaven. James’ hips moving slowly, pushing his cock down your throat, letting your nose get tickled by the hair and the beginning of his shaft on every thrust. Sirius snapping his hips, allowing your g-spot to be perfectly grazed by his head.

“Fuck,” Sirius groaned. “She’s taking us so well. D’you see this moons? Your cockslut is so good for us.” His head was thrown back, hands pressing into your legs as he thrust his hips, moving his cock in and out of you. “Fuck, James, flip her over.”

Both cocks pulled out of you, making you whine from the loss of contact. It didn’t last long though, soon you were flipped to lay on your stomach, head almost falling off the edge of the bed, but James’ hand in your hair kept you up as he pushed his cock into your mouth again. Behind you, Sirius straddled your thighs, pushing just your arse up as he, too, once again penetrated you – making you full of cock, and happy again.

Straining your eyes to look up at James, you used your tongue to give extra attention to his head, while your hips started moving in little circles, walls clamping down harder on Sirius. As much as you enjoyed this, you wanted to be active in their orgasms.

James went first, hands pulling even harder at your hair as he threw his head back, hips stuttering as his cock shot white globs of cum down your throat. Moaning, you opened your mouth, playing with his cum using your tongue. Leaning down, James gave you an open mouthed kiss, allowing his own cum to be split between the two of you.

Sirius, who had witnessed James coming down your mouth was also getting close, hips pushing against yours, hard. When James had moved away from you, Sirius leaned down to pull your chest up, one hand in your hair, the other squeezing your tit.

“Such a good little cockslut, huh, took Jamie so well, gonna let me cum in you? Fill you up? Watch it run down your legs? Gonna let me do that, huh?”

Sirius’ filthy words only made you moan louder, walls squeezing him harder.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m–” His hips slowed as he gave his final few thrusts, pushing his cum even further into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he kissed the back of your neck before moving away.

Remus, who still hadn’t allowed himself to cum came over. “Everyone okay?” He asked, looking at all his littles. “You did so well,” he looked at you. “But you two,” he pointed to Sirius and James, “missed something. You didn’t make our girl cum.”

They both looked ashamed, and a little disappointed that they’d missed something during their night.

Remus leaned down and kissed your nose. “Can you ride my face, darling?”

That sounded amazing and you quickly got up and sat yourself down over his face. His tongue was good, he knew how to use it and when he had to add his fingers to make sure you felt as good as possible. Licking along your damp lips, Remus used two fingers to push into you, the pads of his fingers immediately pressing against your spongy walls.

Moving your hips, you dragged your cunt along Remus’ face. You wished you could’ve disappeared into a world of pleasure, but his leaking cock looked so lonely, you had to lean down and wrap your fingers around it. Remus pushed his hips, making his cock glide through your fingers as he moaned against your heat.

The other two men were sitting next to you, mouths agape and cocks growing hard again after their orgasms. Watching them as you took Remus into your mouth, you saw their members bob at the view.

Remus quickened his pace, tongue licking and lips sucking around your clit as his fingers moved faster in and out of you. He wanted to make sure you came before you did. Hips and head moving faster, you felt yourself get thrown over the edge, wetting Remus’ whole face as you squirted, causing a chain reaction of Remus coming into your mouth, where James had just done the same thing. “That’s how you treat a girl,” Remus said, wiping his face with his hands, sending his friends a wink.

551 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 10 months

Note

Imagine you and Eddie aren’t like official but just fuck around allot and you’ve stolen one of his shirts. One night you fuck around with some other guy before going to a corroded coffin gig and when you go up to hug Eddie he can smell the different guy on his shirt and he gets so jealous 😮‍💨 I live for jealous Eddie

AN | Stopppp, jealous Eddie?? Jealous rockstar Eddie?? Yes please! Enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language, Mentions of Sex

Pairing | Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Eddie!" You were breathless from giggles as he tickled your sides, keeping you pinned beneath him, "stop! Have mercy!"

"Hmmm," he stopped momentarily, hands settling on your hips as he brushed his thumbs along your soft skin, "why should I?"

"I'll do whatever you want," you promised, smile saccharine and eyes still heavy and soft from the orgasm you were coming down from, "promise."

"I can't say no to that, pretty girl," he brought his hand to your face, tenderly brushing his knuckles along your cheek. Your face turned warm as you looked away, unused to the extraordinarily tender gesture. Usually whenever you fucked it was just…fun. But this was something more, "promise me we'll do this again."

"You already know I can't say no to that," you grinned, reaching up and putting your hand on his chest to push him off you. There was something about the moment that was getting to be too much, too intimate between the two of you, "now get off you sap."

"Baby," he groaned as he watched you slip out of his bed still naked, bathed only in the moonlight that was streaming in through the window.

"Baby," you chirped back at him, reaching into dresser drawers and pulling out one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers. You slipped them, almost oblivious to the fact that Eddie's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, "I gotta go, but I'll see you later?"

"Stay," he patted the empty side of the bed next to him. The one that should belong to you, if you weren't so reluctant to stay…ever. You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering if it was best to go or if one night of post-sex cuddling was going to break you, "what's the harm, huh?"

"Edward," he huffed at the use of his full name but his heart skipped a few beats as you came back over and slipped under the covers next to him, "you better stop or I might start to think you're catching feelings."

"And what if I was?" He angled his body towards yours, draping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his frame, "would that be so bad?"

"Eddie…we've talked about this," but you still laced your fingers through his and squeezed them, "you're not here half the time and it's just…what's wrong with what we have? We're friends and we have fun. Let's keep it at that."

“Y-yeah,” he swallowed down every other thing he wanted to say and just nodded before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You shifted around so you were turned towards him, his handsome face almost hidden completely. You leaned in and kissed him, trying to quell any of the odd sensations both of you might have been feeling, “we’ll do that.”

“Can I keep your clothes?” you laid your head onto his pillow, inhaling deeply in order to memorize his scent, “that way I’ll remember you while you’re gone.”

“Fuck yeah,” there was definitely something stirring in his belly at the thought of you wearing his clothes. It was absolutely a primal and savage sort of possessive feeling, but it ran deep. At least when it came to you, "'sides you look way better than me in them."

"Whatever, handsome," you scoffed lightly, "you'll call while you're gone right?"

"So long as you come to the last show of the tour," he practically preened into your touch as you brushed his roguish curls out of his face.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," and it was true. You knew you'd miss him for three months he was gone, but when he was back it would be magic. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever, right?

"Good," he kissed you once more, softly and differently from how he normally did. It wasn't that he was never gentle with you, he often was, but it was clear that something was different tonight, "now get some rest, princess."

"G'night Eddie," you closed your eyes as you snuggled further into him, warm and comfortable and feeling more confused than ever, "sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite."

If this was supposed for be just sex, why did this feel like anything but?

Ugh.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It felt like it had been forever since the last night you’d spent with Eddie. Since the last night you’d had sex and cuddled for hours afterwards. You were missing him like crazy, despite how often he managed to call you; you almost thought that he was actually making it a point to call you (he was). Often you found yourself laying around and waiting for his calls…they were the highlight of your day.

“You could always just tell him that you want to be more than just friends,” Steve pulled you out of your thoughts as you clutched at your now rapidly beating heart. Steve flicked his rag at you as you scoffed and tried to think about how to even respond to that, “instead of just lusting after him.”

“I don’t…” you trailed off and start aggressively cleaning the espresso machine, thankful that it was a slow evening in the cafe, “we’re just friends!”

“Friends that like to have sex with each other-”

“Exactly!”

“And happen to have feelings for each other.”

“Wait, what - no,” you couldn’t face him. You knew his big, curious eyes would be able to see right through your lie. It was a quality you both loved and hated about him, “it’s not like that.”

“Mhmm," he didn't believe you for a second, "whatever you say."

"I'm not lying, Steven," your insistence was cute and made him smile even harder. He loved seeing his best friends in love - it was even better when two of his best friends were in love with each other. He was going to make this worth it.

"Then why haven't you been dating since he's been gone for so long?" He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, "I thought you liked going on dates."

"I do, ugh! I just haven't met anyone worthwhile recently," you were almost positive that was true. Steve wasn't buying it, tutting at you, "the dating scene has just been…dry lately."

"Mhmm…"

"Don't do that!" You threw your rag onto the counter and held up your hands in exasperation, "I hate when you do your little mhmm thing like you just know everything going on in my mind! There's nothing to this. Nothing. Eddie is my friend, we have sex, and that's it! It doesn't have to be more than that. Can we please just drop this?”

“Yes - yeah, sorry,” some of his cheer died down as he nodded. He hadn’t meant to upset you but he had been so sure that you really had feelings for Eddie and vice versa. He just wanted you to be the happiest possible, “consider it dropped.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a small little half smile that was more disconcerting rather than encouraging, “now - do you and Robin want to go out for drinks this weekend?”

And just like that the idea of Eddie left your mind again. It was easier to ignore the nagging feeling that was growing at the thought of him as long as it was pushed far from your mind. He was still going to be gone for almost another month. By the time he got back, you could surely have put him out of your mind…and feelings. Most importantly you needed him to worm his way out of the part of your heart that he occupied almost entirely.

Ugh This was only getting harder.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur and it was definitely by choice. You started going on dates every weekend and even some week nights. They were guys you’d met either out and about, a couple were through friends, and the rest were chance encounters when you’d go out for the night. Most of them were so unmemorable that you couldn’t even recall their names.

The worst part of all was that you didn’t even care about knowing their names or anything about them. At the end of every date or as soon as the sex was done your mind kept wandering back to him. To Eddie.

Steve and Robin, among others, were definitely growing more and more concerned with every passing day. You weren’t acting yourself and if anyone even mentioned it, you’d just ignore it or just play it off. You were fine, nothing was wrong and you weren’t doing anything wrong. If anything it was a weird coping mechanism. Besides all of that, you were sure that Eddie was likely doing the same thing. He was a rock star after all, partying and hooking up with groupies was commonplace.

The night before Corroded Coffin’s hometown show you’d hooked up with a guy named Matteo (you were sure that was probably some hipster name he’d chosen for himself) that you had met at a bar. He wasn’t anything special, good looking and well dressed in a very typical way, but nothing to write home about. In a few days you’d have all but forgotten about him. His best quality was probably that he was good in bed, giving without expecting anything in return which, with most men, was a rarity.

And yet, you still couldn’t help but compare it to Eddie. Eddie was the best you’d ever had and he was well aware of that fact. He always left you wanting more, and there was a small, wicked part of you that couldn’t help but imagine you were in bed with him when it was someone else. You might have even called one of them by his name…yeah. That one hadn’t ended well.

But this one night stand had turned into a whole day stand, where the two of you barely left your bed, opting inside to stay inside and have sex. The fact that this was the night Eddie was back from tour and playing the last show ...absolutely had everything to do with it.

Before you left for the show you’d thrown on a pair of cutoff shorts and the t-shirt you’d stolen from Eddie the last time you’d hooked up. Prior to making it out the door, Matteo had convinced into have another quickie and you decided that there wasn’t anything wrong with it. As soon as you were done, however, you kicked him out so you could finish your hair and makeup before going to the show. He’d practically begged for another date, or for you to at least call him, as he left and the best you gave him was a little half hearted sure.

You weren’t going to call him again. You were both well aware of that little fact.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You attended the sold-out show with Robin and Steve, the three All those of you in the VIP section in the front. There was something about Eddie’s stage presence that practically made you swoon; he owned the stage, just like he was meant to be there. You were positive that a few times he caught your eye, somehow managing to pick you out of the crowd, and that made butterflies explode in your tummy.

All those months of working to get over him were undone in a two hour set, and you felt like a lovesick puppy all over again. Well, fuck. Back to square one again.

Your eyes were practically glued to Eddie as you watched the band play; you felt mildly bad for not appreciating the hard work the rest of the boys were putting in but yeah. You were a pathetic sucker that happened to be in love with her best friend. You could admit that much by now…you'd never admit that to anyone else but to yourself it didn't taste so bitter. Instead it was saccharine and sweet.

After the show, the three of you made your way backstage, and your heart began to pound harder with each step. Each step brought you closer to him. You willed yourself to act natural.

But when you got backstage, Eddie was already standing there and waiting, or at least you presumed so, for you. Every ounce of self control that remained in your body suddenly left at the giant grin that Eddie offered you. Robin and Steve exchanged a look and a nod before slyly making their exist; it was all in your hands now.

"Hey there, pretty girl," you could feel Steve and Robin's eyes bouncing between the two of you. And then you decided - fuck it. He cocked his head to the side, and eyebrow raised in amusement, "what? No hello?"

You ran over to him, almost knocking him over into the process but Eddie managed to catch you. You wrapped your arms tightly around him and he reacted in kid, his hand soothing up and down your back.

"I've missed you so much," it was easier to confess than you'd thought as you pulled back from him. You were beaming up at him, but he didn't appear to be returning the sentiment. You grow worried as a scowl tugged down the corners of his mouth, "w-what's wrong?"

He tugged on the collar of your shirt, and shook his head, "have you been fucking someone?"

The growl in his voice sent a delicious shiver down your alone. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before cringing slightly, "umm, listen, I - it's kind of complicated."

"Who was it?" He repeated, his ringed hand going to your jaw and forcing you to look directly at him, "tell me."

"Well, this one's name was Matteo…" your answer was not enough to satiate him at all.

"This one?" He echoed as you shrugged sheepishly, "how many were there?"

"Like…eight-ish," you dropped your voice so he almost couldn't hear but - he heard you loud and clear.

"Ish?"

"Nine," you threw your hands in his exasperation as Eddie took a step back, laughing in anything but amusement.

"You fucked other guys while I was gone," he wasn't even asking, rather telling you, "why?"

"I, umm, thought it would be fun? Needed something to do," you could feel his eyes boring into you, "and you were gone."

"Silly, foolish little thing," he trailed his fingers along your jaw before shaking his head, "you don't get it, do you?"

"G-get what?" He brushes his thumb along your lip, causing your eyes to widen in shock.

"You are mine," he stated firm as you inhaled sharply, "you belong to me. Not anyone else."

"But Eddie-"

"I can smell him all over you," he tugged on the black shirt again, "you have a lot of nerve fucking someone in my shirt, pretty girl."

"I didn't-"

"I think it's time to teach some lessons," your cheeks warmed up at his words and found yourself unable to say anything else, "and remind you that you're mine."

"'m yours," and there it was. Out in the open and just so easy. It felt so right to say. Eddie smiled wolfishly as he nodded.

"It's about time you got there," his voice dropped to something softer as you just nodded, "baby, I've been wanting this, you and only you, for so long now."

"I-I think I've known," you swallowed the lump in your throat, "but I just…I just couldn't face it."

"Why not?" He took your face in his hands and gently looked you over, "hmm?"

"I was scared," you confessed, "I am. I don't want to fuck this up and I don't want you to hurt me."

"I'm scared too," he whispered, "but I'm never going to hurt you, baby. Promise you won't hurt me?"

"Never," you laughed softly, a gentle smile on your face. The last thing you'd ever do was hurt the man you'd been in love with for longer than you'd care to admit. He was everything, "I could never hurt you, Eddie."

"I know," he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "but now - you're coming with me. And I'm reminding you just how much I love you and that you belong to me. Yeah?"

"Y-yeah," you agreed eagerly, "but wait - Eddie…"

"Hmm?"

"I've missed you so much," your voice was small as you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I'm glad you're home."

"Me too," he pressed a kiss to your cheek in return, "so glad, pretty girl."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #st #rockstar!eddie

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macfrog · 5 months

Text

little aphrodite sex on fire chapter nine

the amount i had to write jean-marc in this chapter makes me nauseous. anywho. these two heal my soul and make me weep. please enjoy a little look back at the ceo's experience of paris.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: we're going back to paris. this time, through joel's eyes.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, ostentatious flaunting of wealth (eat the rich i say), sugardaddy!joel, softdom!joel, oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, angst & pining, and...well. the ceo falls in love.

word count: 7.5k

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He wasn’t even sure you’d say yes when he asked. Thought you’d find it a bit much, flying halfway across the world just for one lousy meeting. He had what he’d say when you turned him down in mind, already: Sure, yeah, no problem. No, I just thought – Yeah. ‘s alright. I’ll bring you back som’ as a souvenir.

But you didn’t.

Oh, yeah? you’d said. Your face seemed to light – humored, impressed even. It made Joel feel braver. Reassured. You’ve a habit of doing that to him.

Mhm, he replied, chewing on the sub you’d ordered him after his conference call. He can’t remember what he promised Human Resources he’d have done within the hour. You walked in as he was saying it, and – well. Two days, he said, swallowing, Saturday Sunday.

And are you gonna make me take minutes while you meet with this Jean-Marc? You wiggled your fingers as you said it, letting the name drip through your lips in some kind of dreamy song. I don’t make the flight back unless they’re typed up by the time we leave? That the catch?

No catch. You don’t even gotta come to the meetin’.

I don’t have to –? Wow, Miller. You’re spoiling me, no? You kicked your leg, one knee hooked over the other. Your skirt shrinking up your thigh.

You were sat in the chair on the right, opposite his desk. You always sit in that one – and Joel’s still trying to figure out why. The working theory so far is that it’s at a good angle to watch the city below, and at the same time, see exactly who comes and goes in and out of the office during lunch.

But there has to be more to it, he thinks. He suspects. Martha’s desk is, like, five feet from yours. She spends her lunches in the conference room with Deb, shaking salads doused in balsamic vinegar and sharing cross-floor gossip. They invite you every day, and almost every day, you turn them down in favor of his shuttered office, the muted swish of cars on the street, the mock gasps and clutch of invisible pearls when you share that same fifth-floor gossip with him over the desk.

You’d been talking while he’d been thinking about the damn chair. He hadn’t heard a word of it. Huh? he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Ain’t never listenin’, you muttered, peeling the damp paper back from your own sub.

Say it again, Joel said. Was just making a mental note to book dinner for us over there.

You scoffed, licking mayo from the corner of your lips. Why you making mental notes for anything? That’s what you pay me for.

And you were right – it is what he pays you for. Pays you to be his shadow, his right-hand man, his eyes and his ears and his entire brain, some days.

But lately – he doesn’t know. It’s different.

Truth be told, he has no idea what’s gotten into him. Looking at you the way he is. You’ve fucked around twice, now, and both times have been…nothing short of fucking amazing. Both times, Joel’s thought he might come within the first two minutes. Pushing inside your velvet walls, watching the way you roll forward, hearing the lewd moans pour across your lips.

He’s always thought you were attractive. It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. Physically, sure – the look of your body, the way you know how to dress it. And the prettiest, softest face he’s ever seen. You can win him over in any discussion without a word, just by fluttering your eyelashes at him.

But you’re more than that. He thinks of you both as friends, maybe something more. Something deeper. It’s in the glances you steal, the silent lines tossed between one another. The way you read one another like an open book. Sometimes, he wonders if you actually can read his mind.

You’re intelligent, you’re funny, and you’re a hard fucking worker. Always on time, always seemingly juggling thirty things at once, and never letting him down. Nothing is too much, it seems; everything just is as it is. And he likes that about you. Simple. No baggage.

The morning of the flight, you send him a voice note telling him you’re downstairs. “And I ain’t lugging two cases up to the top floor only to bring ‘em back down when we’re leaving, Mr. CEO.”

He’s striding past Martha for the elevator before he’s even done listening to the message.

“Uh-uh!” she chirps, dashing over to slip between the brass doors behind him.

Joel sighs under his breath.

“I know better than to rely on you to remember all this stuff,” she says, holding up a file he’d asked her to put together for the trip.

She’s right not to – he’d probably leave that file in the car, or put it down somewhere and walk off without it. You’re the only one who can be trusted with it – with anything. You’re good at your job. And yet, he resents the fact that Martha’s about to lump you with even a fraction of responsibility for the next four days.

So when the Rolls pulls off and Martha is nothing but a pin-sized silhouette through the back window, still waving from the sidewalk, he pinches the folder in two fingers and tosses it to his left hip. Out of your grasp. You smile, eyes rolling, and pop your earbuds in. Joel breathes a laugh, eyes dipping again to skim read some contract on his phone. His hand is locked around your thigh. He likes that you just let him do it now.

Likes a lot of things about you. Likes that you put your music on shuffle, and then skip eleven tracks until you find one you actually want to listen to. Likes that your fingers twirl around the light chain of your necklace – the way they do anytime you’re nervous – and when he asks if you’re alright, you bareface lie to him and squeak, Yep.

Likes the glow the morning sun casts on you when you emerge from the car on the tarmac, pooling in the dimples on your cheeks, bright gold. The way you tug on the loose cotton of your sweatpants, bashful. Shy. And he likes that, when he follows you up the steps to the plane cabin, your awestruck expression lasts all of five seconds before that quick wit kicks straight back in.

“Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution,” you tell him, and Joel silently says his fifth thankful prayer this morning that he thought to ask you and not Martha.

He watches you settle into a seat by the window, watches you crane your neck to survey the view from the tiny circle of thick glass. He thinks about what he’d do if you were alone right now, if there weren’t crew slowly filing into the jet behind him.

He floats the idea. Tells you about the bedroom up back, tells you it’s cozy. You read between the lines just like he wants you to. And when the plane’s in the air, you follow after him.

You fall into bed together the same way you do when you arrive at the hotel. A tangle of limbs, of sweat and stuffy plane air. He sleeps the soundest he has in months – years, maybe. Pushed off by the sound of your breathing, the dip in the mattress by his side. The warmth which radiates from your body, the soft brush of your hand against his.

He puts it down to the travelling – the eight-hour flight, the plushy super king waiting on the other side. He puts it down to the way the world feels different, this side of the Atlantic. The privacy he feels come over the two of you, like sneaking into the next room: your voices muffled through the wall, your movements reduced to vague shadows beneath the door.

He watches you through sleepy eyes as you prance around the suite in the morning, twirling in and out of the bathroom while you get ready for the day. He wonders if this is what you’re like every day – if you spend your Monday mornings beaming like a little kid, toothbrush hanging lopsided from the corner of your mouth, white bubbles lining your gums. He wonders why he’s wondering. Why a part of him wants to see that version of you, too.

This version – now following his lead down Avenue Montaigne, doe-eyed and wonderstruck – is over all too soon. He’s dragged from her, from you, before he’s ready to leave.

His phone vibrates in his pocket right as he’s leading you out of some ridiculously overpriced jewelers – an irritating reminder of his meeting in an hour’s time.

“Fuck,” he whispers, holding you steady as you spin around to glimpse at the baroque building. “Hey, pretty girl,” he squeezes your hand, “I got some bad news.”

Your bottom lip pouts, eyes gleaming. It’s enough, he thinks, to convince him to stick around. If you asked him to, he’d text Jean-Marc right now and tell him to fuck off. But you tell him to go, tell him you’ll meet him back at the hotel once he’s done and you’re tired. With a teasing smirk and a tiny wave, you see him off down the cobbled street. He watches from the back window as you set off again, heading towards another iron-gated store.

Denis pulls up alongside the towering hotel, totters around the car to meet Joel as he stretches out of the Maybach. The square-jawed man stands with his hands linked, and nods enthusiastically when Joel thanks him.

“The shopping – I will take it back to the hotel,” he assures his boss, a wide smile on his lips.

He’s a good guy, Denis. He’s chauffeured Joel to five of these meetings over as many years – he knows the drill by now. Knows it’ll be a couple hours and a few whiskeys before he gets another call to pick him up.

His nodding doubles, more obedient when Joel asks him to make sure he listens for your call. “You mind stayin’ nearby that part of town?” he asks. “Just so – when she’s done, y’know…”

“Not at all,” Denis says, flapping two palms to the ground. Swatting away Joel’s concern, his worrying, his missing you.

He replies, a little absentmindedly, passing by the head of gray hair with a distant smile. “Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

Five meetings, five trips over here to be pestered by some obnoxious little man in an obnoxious little robe and obnoxious little loafers, and still, Joel never knows what to expect. He strides beneath the golden archway entrance into a domed lobby, every surface spotless and shining; marble counter in the center with a symmetrically-suited clerk sat behind.

She stands and smiles politely to Joel as he approaches, recognizing him with a flutter of her eyelashes. He feels the absence of your arm on his, an ache at his elbow.

“Monsieur,” she croons, pale fingers reaching for the telephone. She whispers something softly into the receiver and then nods, folding her painted lips together as she places the handset back into its cradle. With a floating hand aimed at the elevator behind her, she says, sultry and dreamlike, “He is ready for you.”

Joel fights an eyeroll with every fiber of his being. He wanders round the circular desk, bunches his shoulders into the tight elevator, and jams his thumb into the button marked P.

The doors shudder open when he reaches the top floor. He steps out slowly, waiting for the Frenchman to pounce on him like some kind of wild cat. Wouldn’t put it past him, Joel thinks. As he’s scanning the room, counting the six bouquets dotted around, there’s a single clap from behind the veiled curtains. A silhouette out on the terrace.

Jean-Marc swings between the sheer white, calling out to the lonely figure in his entryway. “If it isn’t my favorite American,” he sings, taking Joel by the arms and squeezing roughly. “How lovely to see you again, Joelie. Please, come.”

The sunlight blinds Joel when he steps out into it, peering over the city skyline under low brows. Jean-Marc is already sat at the top of a thin, glass table, pouring golden whiskey into a square glass and scooping two bulky ice cubes in. The nectar swirls around when the glass is held out to Joel, the ice tittering as he accepts it.

The table, a rocky terrain of pain au chocolat and brioche, pools of citrus spreads and dishes of butter. Joel keeps his hands to himself as Jean-Marc slaps jam onto a croissant, bronze flakes fluttering all over the table as he attempts to regale Joel with some investment into a casino.

“Riccardo says it is too much; I told him to go to hell. We will double the cost of the place, I know it, Joel. We have the eye for things like these, men like you and I, hm?”

Men like you and I, Joel thinks, lips tilting. He balances the glass on his thigh, watches the ice cubes turn over themselves. He thinks of you, thinks of the man you see him as. Thinks how tall he stands against the man Jean-Marc must see sat opposite him right now.

Thinks how rotten, and ugly, and how small the latter is. How easily you and your words could crumble him. All show, all sitting on perfect terraces with pretentious dickbags disguised as friends, drinking pissy whiskey with a plastered smile on his lips.

How comical it all is – the sound of yapping across the tabletop, These idiots would pay millions for manure if you painted it golden, the sprawling sheets of green-leafed plants, the headache-inducing flowers, the buckled loafers and the signet ring catching the sun.

How much he misses the weight of you on his hips, forearms flat on his chest, ear against his heart. The sound of your laughter lilting in his ear. The rosy smell of your skin and the feel of your eyelashes, featherlight on his cheek. He feels the distance between the two of you like elastic strung apart, stretching thinner and thinner, weaker and frailer, ready to snap into two halves at any moment.

“Anyways,” Jean-Marc says, lifting the wine bottle shakily. It clinks brashly against the lip of his glass, a painful scrape. Joel wonders if he’s already halfway to hammered. “Tell me how you’ve been, Joelie.”

Joel tells him he’s been fine. Business is fine. Money is fine. Company’s doing fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Easiest answer to avoid further questioning, to satiate Jean-Marc’s constant thirst for news, or intel, or just plain gossip.

He slips up, though. Makes the one colossal mistake he spent all morning hoping and praying and drilling directly into his brain that he wouldn’t.

Jean-Marc asks how his flight was, sticking the damp end of a cigarette to his bottom lip.

Joel says, “Good, yeah. We got here, maybe, ten o’clock last night.”

And Jean-Marc’s eyebrows arch. His hands freeze, match held against the striker strip. “We?” he asks, white stick flapping between his teeth.

“Uh,” Joel shifts in his seat. Your gentle wave, the corners of your lips, the toss of hair over your shoulder. It’s as though Jean-Marc can see his thoughts played on a reel before him, the haste with which Joel attempts to wipe you from his own mind. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Jerry ‘n Lisa. Len and Pol.”

The Frenchman’s eyes narrow, a grin pulling on his pink lips. “We,” he says again, whipping the match roughly against the strip. Speaking into cupped hands, a cloud of white billowing from his leathery fingers, he murmurs, “Joel brought company with him to Paris, yes? Who is the lucky tourist? Une petite amie?”

Joel’s tongue dabs at the sickly wash of whiskey on his lips. He thinks to grab the fucker by the throat, throttle him until the idea of you rattles from his skull, spilling back into Joel’s safe hands where you belong.

He almost fucking lies. Almost says it’s just Martha, or Drew, or his fucking mother. But Jean-Marc is like a rat, scurrying along after a source of water. He’ll find it in the end. They always do.

He breathes your name, reluctant to let it go. Jean-Marc cocks his head, leans in, a swirling snake of silky smoke lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. Joel repeats it, voice louder, but flatter. Breaks it into too many syllables. Lets his host hear every bite of annoyance.

“She’s my assistant,” he says, and Jean-Marc claps again.

“Your assistant! How wonderful. And where is she today? She is not…” his fingers circle the air, disturbing the trail of smoke, “…assisting you?”

“Gave her the afternoon off.” Joel lifts his glass to his lips. The geometric shape amplifies his voice, bass like the growl of a bear. “Busy couple days. She deserves some downtime.”

He hates the sound of your name as it peels from Jean-Marc’s tongue. Like a hangnail, the residue a gorge of bloody, torn skin. Your name is Joel’s favorite sound, he realizes now, and the way this little asshole keeps butchering it boils an anger so hot and so quick under his skin that he’s not sure he can hold it at bay.

It’s not as if he owns you or your name – far from it. He has no desire to be anything more than a placeholder: somewhere for you to slot your hand, rest your head, curl your body against. Still, he feels a direct protectiveness over you right now. An impulse to stand in front of Jean-Marc’s tiny figure, arms wide, stopping him from picturing you or learning about you or meeting you.

Which is, of course, exactly what the little fucker suggests.

A wet pff sound as he rids his mouth of bitter smoke, and he offers to host breakfast in the morning.

“No, no, we, uh –” Joel’s hands are up, like pleading with the man, whiskey kissing the lip of its glass, “– you don’t have to – Look, Jean-Marc, I’m sure you’re busy enough with all –”

“Nonsense!” Jean-Marc waves a hand. Ash sprinkles down the cuff of his robe. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we say, ten?”

Joel grumbles, eye following the flight of a bird in the distance. What are you doing right now? Are you back in the suite, trying on the outfit you picked out together? Are you still wandering down the streets, drinking up the lavish city like a perfect little cocktail of bliss and wonder?

And what the fuck does he have to do to excuse himself, to come find you, to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave his side again?

He feels idiotic. Juvenile. Like a stupid little teenager, pining for his junior year girlfriend. The feelings all sharp and brittle, prodding his heart roughly anytime he thinks too hard on them.

When he looks back to Jean-Marc – the cigarette tearing closer and closer to his fingers, an expectant smile on his lips – he concedes.

“Ten is fine,” he says, and suddenly, the sky casts over.

You’re on the terrace when he finally returns to the hotel room. Head aching from the alcohol and forced conversation, he drags himself over to you.

The sight of you, hair lifting in the breeze, the sweet smell and soft touch under his hands feels like the pouring of honey on a raw throat, like cool water lapping at his waist on a scorching day. And he needs more, and he feels the saliva pool beneath his tongue, and you’re touching him and talking to him and all he can think about is replacing his saliva with you – with every drop of you that you’ll lend him.

You follow his every request – parting your legs, making room for him between them, opening yourself to him like coming home after work, like sinking deep into your shared bed, like pushing your salt-slicked fingers on his tongue and chanting taste me taste me love me need me.

Petals opening, shards of orange separating. His cock throbs in his pants when he feels the circle of your hips against his jaw, the taste of sweet, sweet nectar spilling from your center. His clothes still smell of the smoke from Jean-Marc’s weedy lips; the sweat on his skin borne from three hours sat in the sun, dehydrated by whiskey, discussing money and gold and then money again.

He doesn’t want to fuck you here, like this. As that puny, pompous prick he’s felt like since the second he wandered through the Frenchman’s hotel doors. He can’t. You deserve him clean, new. You deserve the Joel you think he is – yours. Affected by your touch alone, moved by the gleam in your eye. You deserve him, Joel decides, on your terms.

And that same night, stood in the same spot, dregs of sunlight replaced by molten moonlight, staring at the dazzling Eiffel Tower against the deep blue sky – that same night, when he turns and clocks the silhouette of your body just feet from him, he realizes that this is it.

He’s sure he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, standing in the dim light, your fingers playing with the bust of the silk robe draped over your body. The jewelry on your neck catching the light like his own private attraction, his own little spectacle. Just for him.

He forgets any other version of himself. Shakes them off like seawater flying from his body as he emerges from the ocean. Venus stood before him; hair lifting in the light, palm over her breast. And he doesn’t notice the departure of those old versions; doesn’t feel the way they tear from his skin. His eyes are glued on you, only you, everything around the two of you reducing to dark matter. There is only his awestruck gaze pointed to your radiant form, as though the scene sits alive in the eye of Botticelli or Michelangelo.

Baby, he whispers, and you move forward, dragging him with you under a wave of lust and rebirth.

He stirs the next morning to the feeling of a weight shifting across his body, two divots in the mattress either side of his waist. Something nuzzling, warm and featherlight, into the nook below his earlobe. Wet kisses trailing down his neck.

There’s no weight of you in the crook of his arm anymore. He’s scooping thin air. He lifts it, and his palm meets the baggy cotton of his own T-shirt, draped over your body, draped over him.

A laugh brushes between his lips. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he croaks, voice still low and broken.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice like silk and sugar and tufts of lustrous clouds.

He opens his eyes and you’re hovering over him. Tip of your nose circling his, hips light as air across his own.

You look so fucking cute, he thinks. He’d take what he had last night – you, dripping in black lace and bound by satin straps – every night for the rest of his life, if he could. If you’d grant him it. But, this. This.

You – in Joel’s clothes and nothing else. You – the curl of your hair now a lazy wave, the smoky afterthought of your half-removed makeup. The smell of sex still lingering on your skin, the taste of Joel still home on your tongue. Each part of you laced with a part of him.

You – holding yourself up over him, less than an inch apart, and all Joel thinks to do is wrap his arms around your back and let you drop onto his body; his strong, solid body, which accepts the weight of you with only so much as a tiny grunt over his lips when you fall on top of him.

You giggle. He swears he feels butterflies in his stomach. He prays you don’t feel them, fluttering purposefully against your ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his collarbone, words curled by the smile on your lips. You suck a mark into the hot skin, teeth and flesh and sel et sucre, and then push off from his chest, nudging his thighs wider with your knee.

Your tongue drags a wet trail down his chest, from solid sternum to suppler stomach, following the thickening of hair the lower you move. You leave wet kisses along the crests of his hipbones, the gentle slope of skin leading you to the wide base of his cock, already stiff.

Joel’s breath hitches when your tongue sweeps across it. Your eyes lift and lock with his, fingers taking a heavy hold of him. He smiles, tongue sitting patiently behind his teeth.

“Go on, angel,” he nods, “put that pretty little mouth on daddy.”

You obey instantly, as hungry for it as he is, your tongue swiping from the base of him up, curling around as you reach the head. Swollen, gleaming, slit dripping with slick precome that you lick with just the tip of your tongue and send a roll of pleasure across every nerve in Joel’s body.

He falls back, hands searching for the back of your skull as your lips sink further down down down, tightening around the smooth skin, stopping only when they meet the tuft of hair decorating his dick. His tip pushes against the back of your throat. His head begins to spin.

His back arches, hands anchored on your head, holding you steady as you bob up and down. His shoulders push heavy into the mattress, tummy sucks in until the points of his ribcage mold through his skin. And, oh – you’re so soft with it, so wet and so warm and so good with your tongue, kitten licks over his tip, wet fist wrapped tight around the width of him.

You lift your hand and meet his halfway up his stomach, fingers intertwining, Joel’s knuckles instantly whitening.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he groans, gasping when your throat constricts around him again.

You gag, choking with a wet grunt, but you never pull away. A quick pause, a heavy breath from your nostrils, and your movements resume.

“’s alright,” Joel coos, fingers rubbing against the back of your hand, “you got it. Atta-girl, fuck.”

His hips begin to lift, slowly jerking up into your mouth. He looks down, loosens the grip you have on his hand only to run his thumb delicately across your cheek, dabbing lightly at the tears in the corner of your eye.

You suck hard around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening to his underside to let him fuck your mouth – a rhythm of sopping sounds and heartbeat hums from your throat. He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Just like that,” he tells you, and you blink up at him. Moans muffled by the mouthful of cock, saliva and sex slipping from your swollen lips. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. You’re such a good girl – you want daddy to give it to you?”

Mhm, you mumble into the warmth of his cock, the vibration of your throat on the eager skin enough to send Joel over the fucking edge. He throws his head back, lifts his hips up to you, and fills your mouth at the same rate he fills the room with the sound of his orgasm.

You take every last drop. You’re so good for him. Once he stills, once the screaming in his ears subsides, once the room slowly desaturates back to normal, a faded, blurry normal – he sits up and hooks his hands under your arms, pulling you up into him.

You collapse against his chest for the second time this morning, giggling and licking the last of his come from your mouth. Joel guides your jaw towards his, lips meeting in the middle, and licks the salty aftertaste from your tongue.

He rolls you both over, your thighs sitting safe on his hips.

“I know,” you sigh, head rolling against the curve of his arm beneath, “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“Tell you what, angel?” he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

“Best head you ever had. I know.”

He scoffs, lips finding the hinge of your jaw. You giggle into his ear, a sound softer than birds cooing at the break of dawn, sweeter than the first bite of ripe fruit – the sharp taste bursting across his tongue and coating his teeth in sugar, numbed by the holy coaxing of feathered doves.

“You’re good with it, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, and the giggle erupts into a laugh which fuels him enough to follow your roll out of bed, tear his shirt from your shoulders, and slip into the shower behind you, kneeling before you when you turn to look.

Joel’s second encounter with Jean-Marc in as many days, goes about as well as the first.

He balls his fists as he introduces the pair of you, watches like a caged and bound animal as Jean-Marc’s eyes loop all around your face, your shoulders, the pull of your dress around your waist.

He knows he’s being quiet. The glances you keep stealing at him tell him you know it, too. He wishes there was something he could say, something his lips might be able to carve into a neat little sentence. Tongue sanding the jagged edges of what he’d really like to say into a joke, a quip to ease the tension you so obviously feel.

But he can’t. His tongue isn’t blunt, isn’t defensive. It’s sharp like the kiss of venom, protective and aggressive. He knows he’d do better to hold it tight between his teeth.

The best he finds himself able to do is keep a heavy hand on your thigh, let you wrap your fingers around his own, squeeze you in place of whispering in your ear.

You hold your own, up against Jean-Marc. He knew you would. He learned less than a week into working with you, not to underestimate you. Your quick tongue, the million and one observations hidden behind the flash of a frown. He knows you can read Jean-Marc – probably better than he can, having known the guy ten years.

It doesn’t make it feel any safer, though. Luring you into a lion’s den. He knows you’ll make it out alive, but he can’t stand the thought of the claw marks in your skin.

That feeling washes over him again – that urge scored so deep into his bones that it hits marrow, to put himself between you and anything which might come to harm you. He swallows it down with the acidic sting of orange juice – slots it somewhere safe in his chest until he can assess whatever the fuck it is. Whatever the fuck it means.

His hand tightens around your leg when Jean-Marc mutters something to his assistant. Joel decides against asking you what it means, for fear he’ll tear the Frenchman limb from limb, strips of satin robe strung across the paved patio.

The assistant – tall, thin, looming over you like impending doom on legs – offers to show you the view of the city. And as Jean-Marc settles into your empty chair, the image of that torn satin robe shunts closer towards reality.

“I wonder if you might indulge me,” Jean-Marc slithers, pinching thin air with one hand and resting the other on the back of Joel’s chair.

“I wonder,” Joel mutters, finger tapping angrily on the table.

“She is a wonderful character. Beautiful, and very smart, I can see. I would be crazy not to ask, you must understand, Joel –”

He can’t help himself. He bites before Jean-Marc lays the trap. His head shakes. “She’s – she’s –”

And suddenly there isn’t a single word in the English dictionary worthy of describing you. Not a single combination of letters, of sounds, of syllables and phonetics that would do you justice.

He settles for, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.” It feels fucking redundant. It is fucking redundant.

Jean-Marc nods. “And you know that I see the value in things, hm?”

Joel dead-eyes his opponent, gaze narrowing. “What are you sayin’, Jean-Marc?”

“Well,” he shrugs, gesturing to the shadow pointing out the Eiffel Tower, “Paul is fantastic. Dedicated, hardworking. But it is a lot, for one person. I am sure you can understand, being that you have two assistants yourself.”

“And you wanna take one of ‘em out from under me?”

Jean-Marc chuckles, shaking his head. Tutting. Teeth grinding. He senses the bitter tone, hears the distortion of words squeezing through gritted teeth. “Not at all, my dear Joelie, not at all.”

Placating. It pisses Joel off more.

“I simply would like to raise the question of: would she like to be…taken?”

“Taken?”

“Hired. By me.”

The smug grin which pulls over taut lips incites Joel with a desire to punch the luminous veneers from their gummy holders. His fist balls again, nails digging harshly into his palm. He swallows roughly.

“She seems…she seems happy enough where she is to me.” He glances over, catches your eye for a fleeting second before Paul’s ghostly hand perches on your shoulder and turns your attention away again. Resigned, he adds, “You would have to ask her. I ain’t speakin’ for her.”

Jean-Marc’s leer only grows. “Ask her,” he repeats, nodding. “That is an idea.” He pushes out of his chair with a squeal of wood across stone, calling to the party, “Why don’t we take a drive? There is so much of the city I would love to show you – both of you, of course.”

Before he knows it, Joel’s on his feet, too, panic hammering through every muscle in his body. He tosses some half-assed excuse to the breeze; a half-truth, a desperate attempt to pull you away from the beady eyes and sharp claws of Jean-Marc and his assistant, and back over to his side. He takes your arm and scatters, pulling you past four, five, six bursting bouquets, your heels clicking along the polished floor, your head spinning.

He can feel the blood thrashing through his veins as the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Can see the shadow of Paul the assistant still over your shoulder, the place his hand sat like charcoal on white linen. He feels red hot, anger mixed with panic mixed with a word he hasn’t let slip just yet. He covers it by answering your questions shakily, diverting the ones about the conversation on the terrace.

And then you’re back in the safety of Denis’s car. You’re back to being on your own, together. No third set of eyes watching your every move, studying you like you’re some doll to be observed, or worse. You’re touching him again, holding his arm, caressing his cheek. His breathing eases, his body relaxes into the backseat of the Maybach.

You tell him you’d like to see the Louvre. So Joel takes you to see the Louvre.

Joel Miller has never been in love.

He’s said it, sure. Said it plenty to Avery.

G’night, love you.

I’m so proud of you, sweet; I love you so much.

Thanks for makin’ dinner, babe, I love you.

It began to take the form of breath, passing over his tongue with as much ease and instinct as his lungs would push out air. She looked at him a certain way – he’d say he loved her. They’d talk about the future – he’d tell her he loved her. They fought, over his working hours or the interest rates at different banks or whose family to spend Christmas with – and he’d remind her he loved her.

He meant every single one. He did, truly, love her. He loved her auburn hair, the way it’d sweep over her shoulders like a wave of fire. He loved the way she would pause to take thirty photos of the sky at sunset. He loved how homely she was, how simple and warm she could be. Her recipe books lining the shelves in her kitchen. Her pajamas folded neatly at the foot of her bed, waiting for her at the end of the day.

He loved her enough to spend four years with her, a life split nearly down the middle. Never seeping into one another. His side of the bed, and hers. His items in the fridge, and hers. His fucking bathrobe, and hers.

But right now, standing in a jam-packed room, maneuvering awkwardly around museum guides and backpacked tourists, avoiding the knee-height glass barriers and dodging fucking selfie sticks – Joel knows: he has never been in love.

Not until the moment he turns from some headless bust to search the room – the dark marble walls and great, carved arches; the white Parisian sky illuminating everything in a pale glow. Not until he catches a glimpse of you amongst the sea of bodies – stood before the Venus de Milo, staring up in wonder at Aphrodite like she’s the first thing in the world you’ve ever truly seen. The gentle lean of her body, the low sling of marble fabric around her waist, the soft dimple of her navel.

The way your eyes scan every detail of her form – every fold draped over her thigh, ever chisel mark and chip in her torso. The round swell of her breasts and the wavelike swirl of her hair. Barely blinking, afraid to lose sight of her for even a second.

Joel’s never been in love. Not until this very moment.

He only turned to make some quip about…well, now he can’t fucking remember, can he? Something irrelevant. Something so mundane, so meaningless, so dull that he wishes he could take back every word he ever said to you and use the breath more wisely – use the time spent making stupid jokes and work orders, just to look at you. Watch you, like he is right now. Every other thought, every worry and concern drop weightlessly from his mind, with such ease that he doesn’t feel the loss.

Your fixed stare up at the statue’s set face, the slow pacing of your heels, ankles crossing over one another as you pivot around her. And the look of wonder on your face – as if Joel instantly recognizes eight-year-old you, thumbing through the pages of the first art book she was ever gifted, copying the curled hair and round shoulders of the marble goddess in a pencil sketch.

Haloed by the towering windows behind you, arms crossed over your chest. Lips melting from a content smile to agape, and then pinning back in a smile again.

And suddenly – he can’t remember the flame of hair over his ex’s shoulder. Doesn’t remember a single meal she ever cooked for him. In the blink of an eye, he realizes he doesn’t want a life neatly split anywhere.

He realizes that his life, the way he wants it, was always meant to be meshed with yours. Intertwined so tightly that there is no his and hers. Last night at dinner, you couldn’t decide between the bœuf bourguignon and the confit de canard, so Joel ordered both – as well as what he wanted – and the two of you picked at three separate meals. Holding out forkfuls to feed one another, comparing and judging them like professional chefs on a fucking cooking show.

Back at the hotel, you fell asleep in his arms. Your head nestled under his chin; your arms curved around his shoulders. In the center of the bed, laying at an angle. When he got up this morning, the robe he threw around himself smelled like your perfume. The terrycloth on your shoulders, tinged with the weak scent of whiskey.

None of it – not the relationship you had before any of this happened, not the strolling over one boundary to the next, not the blurring of lines between colleague, and friend, and lover – has been neat. None of it has made any sense. And maybe that’s why he fucking trusts it so much.

Joel spent the first two weeks after you fooled around in his office swearing he wasn’t that guy. Staring himself down in the mirror with a balled fist, a pointed finger that said, You don’t sleep with your fucking assistant, you idiot.

And now, standing opposite you in a crowded room and only seeing you – he knows. He finally gets it.

He loves you. He – no, fuck.

He doesn’t just love you.

He’s on his knees, dagger through his heart –

blood spilling all over the pristine floor –

pathetic and adolescent in its nature –

butterflies tearing through his stomach as destructive as a hurricane –

in love with you.

He thinks to say it. To wander over and kiss your shoulder, hook his chin into your collarbone like he did in the Dolce and Gabbana store, and whisper, Hey. I love you. Did you know that?

But he knows that’d be fucking insane. Knows you’d probably unstick yourself from him and back up, tripping in your step. Paris ruined.

He knows he’d probably get so far as curving around your back and then bottle it, anyway. The words would die in his throat. You’d just lean back into him, none the wiser. You’d still make his heart pound.

Pound the way it does when you reach for his wrist and drag him off into the next room, and the next, and the next. And with every piece of art your eyes fall upon, another fragment of your soul is revealed to Joel. The depth of da Vinci, the color of Bruyère. The scale of Veronese and the beauty of Canova.

And with every part revealed, a desire blooms in him to learn the next part. Understand you; know you better than he knows himself. See you, the way he’s seeing you right now.

He takes his ex’s lead, when you’re stood in front of the Mona Lisa. All those fucking sunset photos, like she was afraid to forget what it looked like. The thought becomes urgent, pushing past every other meaningless word in his head.

He taps you on the shoulder, says your name lightly. When you turn, he’s already holding the phone up, watching your delayed motions through the screen. Please don’t let me forget this. Don’t let me forget you, like this.

“Smile,” he says, and you do.

“You’re cheesy,” you tell him, wandering off from the painting.

He’s still staring at the photo. At your dimpled cheeks, your red lips. Staring at your eyes, seeing a new glint in them that wasn’t there before. Like eight-year-old you smiling back at him, trusting him, knowing him.

Joel breathes, “She’s beautiful,” taking your waist in a steady arm to guide you out of the room.

You misunderstand him. He knows it. He doesn’t correct you.

She’s beautiful – the Mona Lisa. But she only became beautiful the second you laid eyes on her. The second she handed you a piece of your soul, the transaction laid bare for Joel to witness. A bucket list item ticked, or simply your childhood self, stood before one of her own seven wonders.

Everything is only beautiful after it comes into contact with you.

There’s a change in you, the morning that you leave. Something low-lying, melancholy and blue. Joel feels it under your skin, in the grip you keep on his hand the entire car ride from the hotel to the airport.

“You good?” he asks, walking up the steps of the jet, shelled around you. Safe, with him, safe with him.

You nod, but you’re watching the Maybach roll off, rounding the corner back to the airport. The same way you watch the city disappear beneath the clouds as the plane takes off.

The same way you glance over to him, your glossy eyes twinkling, pearly tears swimming across your waterline. Joel gets it. Figures he feels much the same.

He leads you slowly back through to the dark cabin bedroom, where you peel the shirt and sweats from your body. He watches from the bed, arm outstretched and inviting you to burrow into his side, curl around his body, loop your legs through his. His own little Aphrodite, the curves and the dimples and all the beauty to go with her.

He sinks his shoulder to let you nuzzle into him, let your slow-closing eyes follow his movements like rocking you back and forth to sleep. You link your arm through his, locking your bodies tight together. Joel slows his typing down, moves gentler, so you can fall asleep without being nudged too much by his arm.

You mumble something into the sleeve of his tee. He pauses. Looks down at your already closed eyes, your parted lips.

“What’d you say, baby?”

You take a deep, slow breath. Already sleeping, he thinks. And then, in the sigh that escapes from your mouth, you whisper to him.

“Please don’t ever leave.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #sex on fire

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batpunkks · 1 year

Text

sitting on charlie's face <3

that's literally it. that's the post. that's what this whole thing is about. I think it goes without saying, minors do not interact.

his bottom lip flipped between his teeth in anticipation. he had been begging all day for it. as soon as he had a dream about it, he was chomping at the bit to reenact it with you. you straddled his hips, nothing to separate your sopping cunt and the skin of his torso.

charlie's eyes flicked up and down your nude body, his hands going to your thighs and giving them a firm squeeze, making you smirk.

"gotta tell me what you want, or else i can't help you," you mused, leaning down just above his face.

he growled in agitation as you were still drawing this out when all he wanted were his lips wrapped around your pussy, licking and sucking until you were soft and pliant above him.

"charlie," you taunted, your lips dropping to his neck, "tell me you want me to sit on your face, baby."

he scoffed like an angry child before cutting his losses, spitting out through almost gritted teeth, "please. please sit on my face."

you gifted him a mischievous smile before wiggling your way up his body, his hands on your hips all the way up, fingers flexing against the soft flesh of your thighs.

before you could even lower yourself down, he was extending his neck and pushing you into him by wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you down into his mouth.

you gasped as you felt his tongue swirl and dive across your folds in needy desperation. you knew that ever since the dream he had plagued him, he wanted nothing more than to get as pussy drunk as possible.

and with you above him, singing for him while he gets to feast on your pussy, he is not afraid to let himself go.

he was absolutely zeroed in on your reactions, the way your muscles would tense, if you were specifically sensitive in a spot, he would suck you would jump, and to keep your volume regulated, you would slip your bottom lip between your teeth.

knowing charlie, he was going to remember and analyze everything you gave him tonight.

your hips began to move without your brain registering, grinding down on his tongue as you babbled above him for more. and after all, charlie had wanted to try it since he started.

he held you still with a growl, the look in his eyes giving you a stare that said "don't. move."

charlie wrapped his lips around your clit and began to suck, and you braced yourself against the headboard as pleasure washed over your body. you swore every cell in your body was bouncing off the others at a million miles a minute. you were buzzing.

"charlie, oh my god, fuck!" you whimpered out, brain lost for words as you focused on the boy below you.

he was humming into your sopping cunt with a low timbre, which made your core clench. he was making you feel like a fucking porn star with how much he had you moaning out for him. he smiled to himself as he remembered: he hasn't even put his cock in you yet.

charlie's nose was pushed up against your pubic area, the soft flesh moving in unison with the movements of his mouth. when you dared to look down, his pulverizing blue eyes locked onto yours. the stare was silent but it carried so much weight. a soundless communication that he was there for you. and that he wanted you to cum.

"fuck!" you cry out, his hair held tight in your hand, your other making nail marks on the headboard.

"cum," he begged, his pleading muffled in the weight of your thighs.

electricity seemed to be shooting its way out of your body, your hand slapping over your mouth as you let out silenced wails of pleasure, cursing as you were possessed by your high.

charlie watched you in awe, slowing his tongue to make soft, gentle licks right on your clit to help you come down from your high. you were shaking above him, and that made him glow with pride.

you sloppily dismounted his face as he gave it one last parting kiss. flopping down on the sheets, you felt him lean over you, a curious expression on his face.

"that good?" he asks.

"that good."

your greedy hands were already playing around his v-line, fingertips grazing the hem of his boxers. your post-orgasm neediness made him buzz with arousal.

"what do you think you're doing?" he questions playfully, narrowing his eyes.

"paying you back."

#ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker smut #charlie walker fanfic #charlie walker #rory culkin x reader #rory culkin smut

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echobx · 2 months

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husband & business man!Rafe hcs

◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹

◆ he'll be coming home from some dumb golf game or something boring and it was so annoying that he has to let it all out by fucking you into subdrop

◆ and then he'll be all sweet after peppering you with kisses to bring you back to reality

◆ but the first time it happened he was actually scared that he hurt you and kept rambling, like "shit baby, I didn't think that was even a real thing. you good? can I keep going or do you need a break?"

◆ and he's never been good at aftercare, but he gets into it and somehow it's incredibly fulfilling to carry you around after and wash you and put you in your favorite pjs so you can sleep and regain your strength

◆ and the morning after he'll make you breakfast in bed and shower you with compliments of how good you were to him the night before

◆ and that rhythm repeats once or twice a month because that's just how his work life is

◆ and he's a busy man, so every time he leaves for a project somewhere else he drags you with him because "we gotta get a scratch away map and scratch off all the countries I made you cum at least five times in a row"

◆ and although he's a doggy kinda guy, he's not appalled by doing a little missionary once in a while because you look so pretty when you cry because his dick is just that huge

◆ and he'll kiss away the tears and tell you to not be such a little bitch about it and just take it like a good girl

◆ and you'll nod, because who are you to argue with him over it because you know he's right

◆ still the tiny fight just always gets him to fuck you a little harder every time you do it

◆ he'd say shit like "gonna fill you up and get you pregnant like a slut" but he's also the one who made you get on birth control, so you know he doesn't actually mean it

◆ but he does mean it when he says he wants to make a little tape in case you can one day not go with him on a trip so the both of you have something to work with

◆ and you do it and it's not bad but not very good either but he doesn't care at all bc "look at that, such a pretty pussy taking all of me. god, you sound pathetic when I fuck you, baby. I love it."

◆ he'd tell you to get your nipples pierced but you refuse at first bc that shit hurts but he keeps saying it and once you do it he acts all surprised "oh baby, you really shouldn't have. that's the best birthday gift ever."

◆ ofc he pays for your manicures and for every little thing. but especially the manicures bc god damn he loves it when you scratch him like a wild animal

◆ he loves showing you off too, especially to his friends who still don't understand how you got him to settle down

◆ and he'll be a real ass over it too, telling Topper and Kelce to look at how hot you are

◆ and the first time round they actually did look at you, but just a bit too long for his taste and then he threatened them and they know him well enough to be actually scared

◆ and you're so sweet and bubbly and he's always looking at you

◆ especially when your eyes are fixed on some other girl who keeps eyeing him and he knows you could tear her to pieces if he let you

◆ the thing is, you know he only wants you, you know there's no real threat, but it still makes your blood boil to know that they think they have a chance

◆ sometimes you even let him fuck you right in front of them, like that one time at a party in a hot tub

◆ and he'd never deny your wish to show off how good he is at fucking you

◆ but once you get back home he makes sure that you remember that he is the one in control

◆ and you'll babble on and on about how you can't take it anymore but you both know it's a lie so he keeps railing into you until you squeeze him so hard that he sees stars

◆ and every time it ends the same, with the two of you cuddling and him showering with "I love you's" and whispered musings, telling you "if I hadn't already married you I'd do it again and again"

◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #~headcanon #my writing

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diorsluv · 26 days

Text

casual , part 4

“ that i’m just a girl that you bang on your couch ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

rutgermcgroarty

liked by colecaufield, yourusername, and 40,266 others

rutgermcgroarty remind me to never hang out with this mf again 😒

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername PLEASE I SAID SORRY

→ rutgermcgroarty SORRY WONT CUT IT

→ yourusername I PROMISE I WONT DO IT AGAIN

→ rutgermcgroarty she lied he believed 💔

→ yourusername it’s the other way around dumbass

vivianliu MY LIFE MY LOVE MY WIFE

→ rutgermcgroarty who brought doctor seuss up in this bitch

→ yourusername MWAHHHH 🫶🫶

→ rutgermcgroarty your little boyfriend’s getting jealous yourusername

username40 this has to be on purpose

username21 is this a ploy to make ethan jealous 😭

jackhughes CREAM CHEESE?? SHES BACK

→ rutgermcgroarty 🥯

→ yourusername CREAM CHEESEEEEE

→ mackie.samo who tf is cream cheese

→ lhughes_06 her childhood stuffed toy mackie.samo

edwards.73 damn didn’t know you two were close like that

→ rutgermcgroarty …but we’re best friends?? 😭

→ yourusername yes you did 💀

→ markestapa ethan you gotta use your brain bro

→ luca.fantilli oh my god ur being such a baby

→ adamfantilli okay now this is getting a bit too.. ANNOYING

→ lhughes_06 are you dumb

username68 BEST DUO

→ vivianliu what about me and her 😔

→ username44 BEST COUPLE!!! vivianliu

markestapa she’s soaking wet what did you do

→ rutgermcgroarty 😈

→ markestapa BRO NOT LIKE THAT

→ yourusername CHANGE THE WORDING GOOD GOD

→ markestapa IM SORRY LMAOOOO

→ edwards.73 ur weird mark

→ markestapa stay mad you pussy

→ edwards.73 ?????

→ rutgermcgroarty he got you there ethan

adamfantilli i didn’t know you were strong enough to carry her around on your shoulder

→ rutgermcgroarty wym i got the big guns 💪

→ yourusername luca snapped the pic right before he dropped me 🙄🙄

→ luca.fantilli let him dream for once yourusername

_quinnhughes cream cheese is so dirty now

→ rutgermcgroarty i swear she dragged it through a pile of mud

→ yourusername NO I DIDN’T 😓

username6 ethan needs to get revenge

username27 come get your girlfriend ethan

dylanduke25 she looks like brad marchand if he was dunked in a bucket of water

→ rutgermcgroarty LMFAOOO

→ yourusername DID YOU JUST CALL ME A WET RAT????

→ vivianliu STOP THATS A FUCKING VIOLATION 😭

→ markestapa HOLY SHIT LMAOOOO

username17 I NEED MORE ROSIE N RUT POSTS

→ yourusername noted ✍️

→ username10 PLEASE PLEASE PELAE EPLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLWSSEEEEE yourusername

mackie.samo NORMALIZE FRIEND DATES!!!

→ rutgermcgroarty i think that’s called hanging out

→ mackie.samo yeah but it’s one on one

→ yourusername pretty sure it’s still called hanging out

trevorzegras so you’re the boyfriend

→ rutgermcgroarty you were the first one to figure it out?!????!

→ yourusername you know damn well who it is

→ trevorzegras i was joking 😓

username73 who’s gonna tell ethan rut stole his girl

yourusername

liked by rutgermcgroarty, vivianliu, and 283,917 others

yourusername redecorated my room again with fav idiots #1 and #2 cuz it lowk looked ugly and i hated it!!!

tagged: vivianliu, rutgermcgroarty

view all comments

edwards.73 i remember taking videos of us in those mirrors

→ edwards.73 i rewatch them every night

→ yourusername ETHAN PLS YOU ARE PUBLICLY COMMENTING.

→ edwards.73 oops i must have forgotten

→ lhughes_06 oh. my. god.

→ jackhughes WTFFFFFF

→ rutgermcgroarty bro ts freaky asf

→ luca.fantilli NO ONE NEEDED TO KNOW???

→ colecaufield maybe i should just stop reading your comments

→ dylanduke25 i’m currently pouring bleach into my eyes

→ trevorzegras this comment was NOT NECESSARY

→ _quinnhughes i’m going to kill you

rutgermcgroarty IM FAV IDIOT #1

→ vivianliu NO UR FUCKING NOT

→ yourusername go ahead fight it out

→ vivianliu I KNEW HER FIRST

→ rutgermcgroarty I WAS HER FIRST FRIEND IN COLLEGE

→ vivianliu WE’VE BEEN FRIENDS FOR A DECADE

→ rutgermcgroarty I TOOK HER TO ALL THE FUN PARTIES WHILE YOU STAYED BACK LIKE A PARTY POOPER

→ vivianliu YEAH THEN U HOOKED UP W HER AFTER THE VERY FIRST ONE???

→ rutgermcgroarty HEY LIL BRO WE DONT BRING THAT UP ANYMORE

→ yourusername OH MY GOD WE WERE DRUNK STOP

→ lhughes_06 WHEN TF DID THAT HAPPEN???????

→ vivianliu like the day after she met the whole team 💀 lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 next time i see you it’s on sight rutgermcgroarty

→ rutgermcgroarty PLEASE WE WERE DRUNK OUT OF OUR MINDS

→ _quinnhughes LUKE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HER???

→ lhughes_06 I DIDNT KNOW ANY OF THIS SHIT

username79 rosie and rut hooked up whaaaaat 😱

→ username65 i mean it’s not like we didn’t suspect it

username81 WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON

username87 such an aesthetic room

_alexturcotte i did not click on this post expecting so much drama 😭😭

→ yourusername our unbothered king 🙏🙏

→ markestapa king hahaha get it bc he’s on the kings

→ yourusername 😐

→ markestapa 😞

dylanduke25 i wish i was that mirror

→ yourusername WHAT.

→ edwards.73 run it back?????

→ lhughes_06 PAUSE

→ adamfantilli IM SORRY WHAT

→ luca.fantilli clipped

→ mackie.samo bro’s never beating any allegations ever again

→ colecaufield bro 💀

username70 im so confused wtf is happening

username68 RUT AND ROSIE SINCE WHEN

username43 i’m so sorry but there’s no way luke didn’t know anything

trevorzegras I SEE THE IKEA DRESSER

→ yourusername ITS UR MASTERPIECE 🙌🙌

→ trevorzegras van gogh envies me

jackhughes the sunglasses are pretty stylish if i do say so myself

→ yourusername you actively bullied me when i bought them 🙄

→ vivianliu RIGHT i like to think i pull them off pretty well

→ rutgermcgroarty THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING

→ yourusername YOU BULLIED ME TOO RUT

username53 you’re literally the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen

adamfantilli you didn’t tell me you and rut hooked up.

→ yourusername BECAUSE WE. WERE. DRUNK.

→ luca.fantilli THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING

→ markestapa FR HOW WAS VIVIAN THE ONLY ONE TO KNOW

→ vivianliu don’t drag me into this 😒

→ rutgermcgroarty WE DIDNT EVEN DO ANYTHING

→ vivianliu that’s not what i was hearing from the other room

→ yourusername OH MY GODDDD STOP

→ edwards.73 ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

→ rutgermcgroarty PLS IM BEGGING STOP EXPOSING US

username89 rut got some game

username70 yall keep talking abt rosie n rut but wb her and ethan??? 😭

username35 are we just gonna ignore ethan’s whole entire comment

luca.fantilli i will never look in those mirrors the same

→ yourusername neither will i 😬

→ edwards.73 fr

→ lhughes_06 don’t worry when i get back i’ll throw all that shit away and change her locks so he can’t get in

→ yourusername LUKE STOP

jackhughes i hate this it’s so hard

→ yourusername umm WHAT

→ jackhughes trying to guess who’s messing around w u

→ yourusername are u dumb i thought i figured it out already

→ dylanduke25 👀👀👀👀👀

→ yourusername please duker no

→ dylanduke25 t-t-t-t-t-that-

→ yourusername NO

→ dylanduke25 t-t-t-t-t-THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID 😉😉😉

→ yourusername goddammit

username39 rut’s comment 💀💀

username4 DROP THE LIPSTICK SHADE PLSS

_quinnhughes you’re lucky mom doesn’t look at the comments

→ yourusername mhmmm

→ _quinnhughes wait but why don’t you just delete the comments

→ yourusername they’re funny ‼️‼️

_alexturcotte young lady why is that finger up 🤨

→ yourusername technicallyyyy it’s pointing down 🤓🤓

→ _alexturcotte 🙄

vivianliu bae what’s that noise coming from your room

→ edwards.73 she’s prob busy rn broski

→ vivianliu you disgust me

→ yourusername IN BISY

→ yourusername IM BUDT

→ yourusername IM BUSY

→ lhughes_06 OH MY GOD WTFFFF

→ jackhughes scarred for life

→ _quinnhughes i don’t need the mental image of my baby sister good god

next chapter notes ) low quality chapters lets goooo (not proofread)

tags: @dancerbailey3 @hughesfein @loveforaugust @alwaysclassyeagle @love4ldr @inhoodmood @bunting58 @crazycat-ladys-blog @smoooore @bunbunbl0gs

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards x y/n #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards fic #ethan edwards fanfic #quinn hughes #jack hughes #trevor zegras #cole caufield #alex turcotte #luke hughes #mackie samoskevich #mark estapa #dylan duke #rutger mcgroarty #luca fantilli #adam fantilli

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mangalho · 1 year

Photo

Ex-warbot OC

They don’t have names yet.

The two bots with the scary faces were specifically made for war, and now that it’s over, they still maintained their original ‘warface’ even though it has stigma associated to it. Many robots changed their faceplates post-war, as it made it easier to find jobs and not get into unnecessary conflict.

The sleeker looking guy used to be in their company, though he wasn’t made in the same factory as them; he isn’t their ’batch-mate’.

After the war he completely modified his frame, and now has an idol career. He desperately wats to erase his past, as people (and robots alike) will respond better to a ‘new’ and untainted idol.

The two warface bots are “brother and sister” and they do odd jobs here and there to make ends meet and to be able to afford things they want. Rich people hire them as bouncers a lot since they are a symbol of terrible times. Sometimes they earn 15k in one night for just one gig it’s crazy. They both really love clothes since it distances them from their body’s original purpose while simultaneously not erasing their past. Also they look cute and cool!

The idol bot once meets the warfaces by chance in the street and pretends he doesn’t know them AGAHAKALAK I think he’s insane… completely erasing your past and the person you were is psychopathic to me idk. Anyway

There arent a lot of warfaces going around anymore. since they either died during the war or changed their frames. Pre-war bots were re-fitted during the conflicts and just had to go back to their former unweaponized frames after it was all over so they’re fine. All of these robots can download information and i want that type of learning to mostly disappear if its deleted, but if they learn things like we do or experience real events, those memories and skills can’t really truly be erased; if they do try erasing them, they will still remember them, just not with HD video clarity, which brings them immense suffering sometimes. “How to people live like this?!” Well buddy it sucks idk we all cope

Newly minted robots are wack because they don’t exactly have a ‘soul’ yet they just do things they’re supposed to do, but after some time, all of them actually develop real awareness and shit… my war bots had like a 78% chance of dying everyday when they were activated, but they survived and attained sentience at like one year post birth and they wised up rly fast after that. They remember their first year, but they describe it as a ‘weird haze’

These robots feel pain so they wont like dive into a hole or damage themselves too much. Self preservation means longer-lived machines which means less repair costs and less human lives on the line as well.. slay !!!

While the conflicts went on, most robots achieved sentience and decided to stop fighting so there was like a robots rights movement and eventually the war stopped altogether and now the robots have a salary and a normal life mostly. They arent organics, so they need other things. They are solar powered and need oil sometimes and also they need new nanomachines once in a while like we need vaccines. Get your boosters… its not just tetanus and coronavirus anymore now they gotta think about like..the trojan horse 9000

I want them to have this aversion to organic things dying bc they are universally gross. Like they dont like seeing living-machines die either but a rat being squished by a car is also gross!

There are probably some tensions between humans and robots but like i kinda get it bc i wouldnt mess with a guy who has like lead pipes for arms. also most robots ARE normal but some are insane idk 🙆‍♀️🤷‍♀️ just like people are.

mine are normal tho they’re just vibing 💖🗣🤙

#drawans #OC #warface

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angelltheninth · 8 months

Text

Taking Care of Workaholic Star Wars Men

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Kanan Jarrus, Captain Rex, Kylo Ren, Hux x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, cuddles, literal sleeping together, hint of an argument

A/N: I haven't done a post in this format for Star Wars for a long ass time.

Obi-Wan doesn't have to tell you that he's tired, you can see it on his face when he gets home. He knows there's no shame in taking a break, sometimes it's necessary but at the same time he's not sure if he can afford one as a Jedi.

When he gets home the first thing you do is sit him down and massage his hands, one by one, feeling the blisters under his fingers from so many years of fighting. You know that he likes you touching him like that so you make it a point to do so every time you notice he's feeling stressed about how much work he has to get done still.

"It feels nice when you hold my hand like that. I remember I used to think they're too rough but you insisted otherwise. I feel very blessed to have you by my side you know. There's still much to do, tomorrow and the days after, but every day I get to relax with you. Makes the effort more then worth it."

Kanan complains about being tired but he never does anything about it. He never takes a break unless it's very short ones in between missions you go on and it takes its tole on him. He tries not to let the crew notice but you do, you always notice.

When you pull him into a kiss to end the night he thinks you're gonna have a little bit of fun now that all the kids are sleeping. Not unless he gets sleep too, then you can think about it the next night. He never expected you to play that card on him. That feels a bit evil in his opinion but you call it a good strategy and taking care of your man.

"The kids are asleep, come here beautiful. Already pushing me on the bed? Someone wants it more then I thought. Why is the light off already? I remember your body but I'd still like to see you. We're not doing that tonight? I am a little tired but I can keep up. Are you really gonna play it like that? Lucky you that I love you so much."

Rex works with almost no break at all. He's a soldier, he'll take a break when the war is over. Until then he has to stay alert, even when he's asleep he's not fully relaxed. His brain is constantly working, going through strategies, and the brothers he's lost.

Kissing him definitely helps take his mind off things for a while but it's not a perfect solution. Any rest he gets is a victory in your eyes though. There are times where he goes days without sleep on missions and then comes back home to you, collapsing against a wall from how tired he is. He lets his cute side show when he curls up against you in bed, taking deep breaths for the first time in a while.

"Sorry love, I'm feeling a little tired tonight. Promise... 'm gonna take you on a date tomorrow. Today? What ever time I wake up. Talk to me, what have you been up to while I was away. Oh. That sounds fun, we gotta try that together sometime."

Kylo would rather die then admit he's been overworking himself. It's caused more then a few arguments between the two of you over the years and all of them end the same way, with angry, eventually soft kisses before you fall into bed together.

Since he won't take a break on his own you like visiting him on occasion. You don't tell him that it's a break, you asking him to walk with you a little, taking his mind off his duties for a while. During this time you hold his hand of course, much to a few laughs from the crew members. One grunt from him is enough to shut them up though.

"Another walk? Darling, I have more work to... you know what it does to me when you look at me like that. Keep it up and there won't me much walking for you. Only for a little bit. You sure do enjoy holding my hand don't you? You know that it makes everyone whisper about us. If it bothers you I can silence them."

Hux unfortunately doesn't get to decide when he takes breaks. It's all set in stone by his orders, his schedule that he has to keep. It is exactly why both of you have grown very fond of any moments of rest you can get together.

He loves to rest his head in your lap after a long day, kissing your hand while you run your fingers across his face, his hair, his chest, but no lower because he really doesn't have the energy. That kind of stuff is usually reserved for early mornings or very quick stolen moments.

"Another long day today. I really do need me a vacation don't I? Where would you like to go? I'll take you anywhere you want, sweetheart. Hm, maybe a nice watery planet, or maybe some alone time in the mountains somewhere. It's be a long time since we had proper alone time with each other."

#star wars x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #kanan jarrus x reader #captain rex x reader #kylo ren x reader #hux x reader #star wars imagine #star wars headcanons #star wars fluff #fluff #x reader

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streamingcolors-gvf · 4 months

Text

Skin Deep - Part 10.3

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!freader x male OC, f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: 9.4k

***A/N: After a bit of a hiatus from the app and writing, this chapter has been a long time coming. It’s been hanging in my docs for quite a while, but I’m stoked to have it finally posted for everyone. This part might be a bit polarizing and intense for some readers, so I strongly encourage you read the warnings before diving right in. I’m quite nervous about this update***

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback y’all give me ❤️

Warnings: cursing, brief mentions of marijuana use and alcohol consumption, angst/toxic themes and behavior (jealousy, extreme anger, allusions to cheating, and manipulation), physical aggression, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI 18+ (unprotected penetrative sex, rough sex, degradation, dacryphilia - arousal from tears or sobbing, spit kink, spanking, mentions of blood, choking if you squint a lot, and please feel free to message me if I have missed anything on this list!)

Masterpost, Part 10.2

You must’ve fallen asleep the second you closed your eyes because the next thing you feel is a hand nudging your arm, waking you up. You go to stretch out the tightness locking your tired muscles, but the weight of Josh passed out on your chest keeps you pinned to the bed.

You try to rub the sleepy glaze from your eyes with the heels of your palms, mumbling, “Hmm…what?”

Kai stands, causing the mattress to bounce and creak with the loss of weight. “I need a shower,” He whispers. “Will you take one with me?”

“Sure,” you groan through the stiffness. It takes a little coaxing, but you still manage to slide out from under Josh without waking him. By the time you can swing your bare feet onto the hardwood floor, Kai has already walked out of the room.

You stumble your way into the bathroom, wincing at the bright lighting. “I gotta pee…” you trail off, walking past him, but when he doesn’t take the hint, you turn to give him a look.

He lets out an airy laugh and starts to rummage through the vanity drawers. “Oh, kitten…you act like I wasn’t just inside you an hour ago.” He turns his head to you, emphasizing the remark with a teasing wink. “And you wouldn’t believe the money I’ve made off of women pissing on me… So yeah, that’s kind of the least of my worries, wouldn’t you think?” You grimace in disgust, causing him to flash a grin at you before continuing his search, unbothered by you completely. He then asks over his shoulder, “You’re on birth control, right?”

You push out a heavy sigh into your hands as you settle onto the toilet seat, “Yes, Kai. I am sleeping with both of them, remember?”

He huffs, finally finding what he’s looking for — a spare, cheap toothbrush from the bottom drawer, and starts ripping open the packaging and points it at you. “Which reminds me, I should stop by the clinic this week.” While you’re sure it’s only teasing, you shoot a death glare at him anyway, making him chuckle.

“I’m kidding! Kind of…” He trails off as he pipes out a line of toothpaste across the pristine bristles. “But in all seriousness, what’s up with you and Jake anyway?”

You scoff, “What’s up with you and Jake?”

“I asked first,” he mumbles around the head of the toothbrush tucked inside his cheek.

You remain glued to the toilet seat, pondering over the question in silence as he continues brushing his perfect teeth. A part of you is hopeful that he'll drop the topic altogether, but the curious raise of his brows says otherwise. You wish you knew the right answer — the perfect explanation for what you were. In reality, you don’t have a clue of what the label would be. You haven’t created the space for it in your life yet. “Fine,” you sigh. “I honestly don’t know what’s up with us. Weeks ago I got a tattoo done by him and by the end of that night, I ended up fucking both of them.”

A few seconds pass, making you look up to see Kai’s eyes widen in the mirror until he breaks away to stare at you.

You laugh nervously, “I know. It’s kind of crazy to think about, but it’s been going on like that — with both of them since then.”

He spits a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink before following up. “Are you guys like…dating?”

The question takes you back, but you can’t say you didn’t see it coming. “I don’t think so. Not like…conventionally in any way.” Saying the words not only to yourself but in front of Kai fills you with a sense of dread and growing shame. You can’t hide behind your ignorance or delusions. Not being able to hold eye contact, your focus drops to your hands as you anxiously pick at your nail beds. “He always gives me mixed signals and I never know what he’s thinking most of the time. When I feel like I get close, he kind of shuts me out almost. Sometimes I get the feeling like we’re a couple…and then sometimes it’s like I’m just a friend with benefits to him.” Your head falls, and finally spit out the fear that's been lingering in the back of your throat. “…I think he’s been sleeping with other girls though.”

He huffs a dry laugh, missing the shift in your tone, “That’s Jake for you.” It was a poor attempt at bringing some levity back, but when he realizes that is failing, sincerity washes over his sharp features. “I’m sorry, kitten.”

Your voice breaks when you ask, “Is that really how he is?”

He shrugs, taking another washcloth from the stack to wipe the corners of his mouth. “He’s always been closed off and to himself, but I can’t say he’ll be opening up to me any time soon.”

You finally get up to turn on the shower, “Yeah, I guess. But what’s the deal with you and him? Why does he hate you so much?”

Kai watches you work the handles to find the right temperature before stepping in. He winces, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Oh…well. I’m pretty sure he hates me because I may or may not have unknowingly slept with his ex.”

That wasn’t the answer you were expecting from him. It stuns you, taking you by surprise as warm water sprays over you. “You what?!”

He shushes you dramatically with a finger to his lips as he follows you inside the shower. “Let me explain,” he starts with a weak laugh, but the smile accompanying it doesn’t reach his eyes. “So at the time, his girl, Roxi, was at this random house party that I went to. She approached me that night and we hit it off, but she somehow conveniently skipped around divulging the fact that she was with, or had very recently broken up with him. One thing led to another —yada, yada, yada— we ended up hooking up that night. The next morning I woke up to a frightening amount of angry and wildly alarming texts and voicemails from Jake. Come to find out, someone saw us together and had told him. To me, she was a hot girl that wanted to have some fun. But to him, I ruined his fucking world and he hasn’t forgiven me since.”

Your mouth drops open but you don’t bother catching it. You stand before him, blindsided by the bombshell dropped in your hands. “Oh my god. You didn’t know?”

He shrugs, reaching for Jake’s shampoo bottle off the tile ledge. “No, I had no clue. I know you’ve never met her, but if you do, you will see that she has a certain way about her.” He chuckles, but it sounds more like a warning. “I should’ve known it was a bad decision from the jump, but c’est la vie I guess.”

Processing everything he has just told you proves to be a nearly impossible feat, but it’s able to bring some clarity to his behavior while leaving you wanting more. “Does Jake know that you didn’t know?”

He scoffs at the notion, “You honestly think Jake gives a fuck about that? He probably assumes I have some fucked up motive to steal you away from him too. Which I can’t say I blame him for.” He pauses, massaging the high-end shampoo into a rich lather through his raven-black locks. “So it’s looking like I don’t know how to learn my lesson…but where’s the fun in that?”

You reach for the same bottle, throwing him a disappointed glare. “No wonder he’s so pissed at me. I’m such an asshole, Kai.”

He places his soapy hands on your shoulders, grounding you to him and reassuring you with an affectionate touch. “And how were you supposed to know that, hmm? His hatred for me goes way back… way before you ever came into the picture, trust me.”

He’s trying. You’ll give him that, but the words don’t help ease the guilt you’re feeling. “I certainly didn’t make it better. He’s going to be so upset.”

Kai’s fingers knead away the tightness in your neck. He’s trying to distract you now, and you don’t fight him on it. “I can hold my own and so can he.”

“Does Josh know?”

He hesitates, even if it’s only for a few seconds.“Yeah, but he kind of went Switzerland on the whole thing. He stuck his head down and minded his business, which was probably for the best. Josh learned early on not to insert himself between Roxi and Jake.”

You try not to let the truth leave a stain on your evening, but it bleeds through regardless.“Why didn’t he say anything to me about her?”

“Probably didn’t think she was important enough to.” Kai isn’t oblivious to how this is affecting you either. He closes the remaining distance between you, tipping your chin up with a careful nudge of his finger, drawing your drifting attention back to him. His piercing green eyes appear darker than before — softer even. The game you found yourselves in has ended, and the intentions behind them have shifted, making you feel comfortable in his embrace. “Listen, don’t let this shit get in the way. If Jake is out here holding grudges, that’s on him.”

You look up and stare into his haunting irises, muttering, “Okay…yeah. You’re right.”

Just as you take in his details —the fans of dark lashes framing his eyes, the water rolling off the bridge of his nose, the heavy droplets falling from the ends of his hair— he studies yours. “You love him, don’t you?”

“H-Huh? What?”

“Josh.” A smirk plays on his lips just as his fingers snake up your neck and skate across your scalp. “I can see it in your eyes when you look at him.”

Him calling you out like that flusters you, and you begin to stammer over yourself. His expression softens at the sight of your anxiety, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your open lips.

It’s chaste and sweet, verging on platonic rather than sexual. “Relax, kitten. I get it. Your secret is safe with me.”

You think of him sleeping peacefully stretched across his bed. You’re blushing, still high of the euphoria and weed from earlier. You've been convincing yourself that it’s puppy love, or at least textbook infatuation, so you take his observation with a grain of salt. Deciding to change the subject, you ask with a quirked brow, “So what if I met you first?”

His facial expression shows he’s a little surprised by your question, but doesn’t stumble over it for long. “If you met me first? …Well, I would have wooed like I did tonight.” He grins, pausing to capture your lips in another kiss, one that lingers this time. “Fucked your pretty brains out for a few weeks and string you along before slowly distancing myself. Probably tell you that I’m not looking for anything serious because I’m horrendously emotionally unavailable.”

You huff a tired laugh, rolling your eyes before dipping your head under the stream of water. “At least you’re honest.”

“Always.”

Sadness starts to settle when you realize how fleeting this is with him, weighing down on your heart. “So what’s gonna happen tomorrow?”

He hums, mirroring a similar feeling. It pulls his lips into a frown before he hides it with a shallow smile. “We’ll wake up a little hungover, maybe have some more fun. Then we’ll have breakfast and say our goodbyes and I’ll keep being his friend just the same as I did before.”

Your eyes fall from his as you nod along to the rose and fall of his voice. You’re starting to grow attached, and trying your best not to let the reality of this being the last time you’ll see him upset you.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?”

Your shoulders fall but you mask your emotions with a brave face.“Okay.”

“He feels the same way you do, you know?”

“I dunno about that. You both seem pretty similar in that regard.”

“I’m serious. I can tell. Even if he’s totally being “Josh” about his feelings. I know him well enough to know that they’re there.”

You startle awake. flying into a sitting position to find that you’re alone in Josh’s bed. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you guess it's late morning with how bright the sunlight is shining through the blinds. Worried that you’ve slept too long, you scramble across the mattress to snatch your phone from the nightstand.

10:37

You hear voices coming from the kitchen, and even through the bedroom walls, you can tell it’s Josh and Kai. You slide off the bed, shuffle over to the dresser, and pull out a band tee from the drawer before stepping out of the room.

“So you like this girl, huh?” Kai asks. It makes you stop in the middle of the hallway and your heart begins to race. You inch closer, stepping quietly enough not to be detected.

You hear Josh let out a slow, deep sigh, “Yeah. I like her a lot.”

Your chest cinches a few notches tighter, sending your heart up into the back of your throat. A part of you feels terrible for eavesdropping on a private conversation, but your curiosity keeps your feet planted on the floor.

“Are you just fucking or is there more to this one?”

You stop breathing, bracing yourself for his honesty. Despite what Kai had told you hours ago, you had your doubts about his true feelings.

“I like to think there’s more than just sex. Fuck, Kai. I think about her all the time. I just want to spend every moment of the day with her. Every day. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I’ve never been this crazy about anyone before…which fucking scares the shit out of me. And you know me.”

“I do. And she’s got feelings for Jake?”

“Probably. Every time I feel like we’re getting a little bit closer, she pulls away and runs to him.”

There’s a pause before Kai hums to himself. “Do you think he has feelings for her?”

“Maybe? It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.”

“Has he dated anyone since her?”

“Roxi?” He pauses for a few seconds. “No, not really. He’s slept with a few, but none of them hung around long enough for me to remember their name.”

“He’s really still holding a grudge about that, huh?”

“Have you met Jake?” Josh snorts a laugh.

“Do you think he’s still hung up on her?”

“For a moment I thought he wasn’t, but sometimes I just don’t know. They were together for five years, Kai.”

Five years.

“Fuck.” Kai seems to share the same thought. “She certainly didn’t act like it.”

Josh lets out a light chuckle, sounding like he’s moving farther away from you. “She never did. But hey, I’m just glad she’s finally out of his life. Last I heard she was living with some tattoo artist guy in Vegas.”

“…You ever?”

“Fuck no! Are you kidding me?!” Josh scoffs, nearly wrenching at the thought. “Besides the obvious fact that he would’ve murdered me in my sleep, there was a higher chance of her Lorena Bobbit’ing my ass than me having any semblance of a good time.”

Kai laughs, causing his cackle to echo throughout the house. “The crazier the better in my opinion.”

“You would say that.” Josh’s voice and his footsteps grow distant from you, making it sound as though he’s making his way toward the kitchen.

“Sounds like you got quite the mess to sort through.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just worried about it. I did tell her that I would be okay if she wanted to only be with him though.”

Hearing him say those feelings out loud to Kai brings you back to that moment in the car and the guilt you felt, how you both reassured each other the best way you knew how.

“Do you honestly believe that you would?”

“I’d have to be, right?” The disappointment and sadness in his voice is palpable.

“Do you think she would do that?”

“I don’t know…” You fight the urge to rush in there and reassure him in some way.

Kai sighs, pausing for a minute before speaking, “I don’t know about what’s going with Jake, but she fucking adores you, Josh. It’s not much coming from me because I don’t get all lovey-dovey and shit, but I see it. The way she looks at you, she cares about you. That much I do know.”

“Fuck. I dunno…maybe you’re right. I get the feeling she’s holding back something from me…” he trails off. “What about you? Do you adore me, Kai?”

“I always will, pretty boy. If there’s a day that you’re single and I’m finally ready to settle down, You’ll be the one I’ll call.”

“Oh, I’m so flattered,” Josh giggles.

“Shut the fuck up. You know I’m a mess and a walking red flag. You’re too good for me anyway.”

“What can I say? I’m drawn to toxic like a moth to a flame, baby.”

“No, that’s your fucking twin.”

You decide it’s time to make your presence known and walk into the living room. They are both leaning against opposite ends of the kitchen counter when Josh hears you enter. You make your way across the room, catching a knowing look from Kai — one that you’ll choose to ignore for now. Josh perks up, giving you that beaming smile of his. “Hey, baby. How’d you sleep?”

Once you’re close enough, he sets his coffee mug down and pulls you in for a warm embrace, an action so domestic it makes your heart flutter. Knowing what you heard moments ago threatens to overwhelm you, but you try your best to keep yourself calm. You hold his slender waist, giving him a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Pretty good. Didn’t like waking up in an empty bed.”

He frowns as he plays with the hem of your shirt, but it spreads into a grin when he sees that it’s one of his own. Looking down at you with a playful glint in his eye, he bites down at his bottom lip while his hands roam freely up and down your body. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. I just couldn’t bring myself to wake you, and I thought you should sleep in a little longer.”

He then reaches over and grabs his mug to take another sip. Curious, you tip it down to see what’s inside, asking, “What’s this?”

“Oh! Kai was able to figure out how to use Jake’s ridiculously expensive espresso machine,” he explains, gesturing with the tip of his chin to Kai behind you. “I know we aren’t fancy baristas like you.”

You turn to look at Kai, who is taking a massive bite out of the center of a piece of buttered toast. “You made this?”

Kai nods with a confident smirk, brushing the crumbs off his fingers, and mumbling, “I did. Want one?”

“I would love one,” you reply, pleasantly surprised. While Josh keeps his hands busy massaging your shoulders, you watch Kai start setting up the machine for your shot of espresso. “Don’t you have to be at the shop this morning?”

Josh lets out a whimsical sigh, but it’s obvious he’s less than thrilled. “Sam opened for me, but I gotta head over there at noon.”

The deadbolt of the front door unlocks, throwing you all into a standstill of silence as the ominous clack of boot heels hits the wooden floor. Your eyes glue themselves to the threshold of the living room, waiting for him to step into view.

Anxiety and guilt send your heart racing into a panic state. You haven’t had the time to pull together a decent explanation to defend yourself. It doesn’t matter, because the second you see him, the words you could’ve prepared would’ve vanished.

Jake pauses in the entryway, scanning over the scene of the three of you before him. His eyes are covered with a pair of dark wire-rimmed sunglasses that hide his expression from you. You brace for an explosive reaction and fight back the nausea bubbling in the pit of your belly.

If there were a record playing, the needle would be sent across the vinyl with a theatrical scratch.

You watch the tightly wound muscles of his jaw clench as he sets his guitar case down on the floor with a heavy thud. His movements are slow, but calculated. There’s no doubt he’s angry. He’s practically seething with disgust. You look over to Josh, desperate for a sense of direction but the worry in his eyes gives you little to no hope.

He removes his sunglasses and hooks them over the collar of his t-shirt, giving you the sight of the tired circles framing his hollow eyes. “You know, Kai… I thought I made it extremely clear to you that I never wanted to see your face ever again. And yet, you come into my place of business anyway. Which, I let slide because I love my brother. But the fact you’re in my fucking house—“

“I’m not one to turn down an invitation,” Kai interrupts, baiting Jake.

“Get. Out,” Jake snarls through gritted teeth, letting himself slip. The tension in the room feels like a disease, infecting every inch of your body with each passing second.

Kai lets the silence stale as his eyes pan across the room, locking on yours for a few seconds longer than they should. “Well, everyone, it seems as though I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he sings with a sleepy lilt, setting down his half-empty coffee mug on the counter. He steps toward Josh at a leisurely pace, pulling him in for an affectionate and gentle kiss to mumble against his lips, “It’s been wonderful. I hope to do this again sometime.” Josh relaxes enough to smile from the touch, but the stiffness returns as soon as Kai separates from him.

Kai makes his way around the island and leans down to you to place a dramatic kiss on your lips. Knowing that Jake is watching, he makes sure to slip his tongue enough for him to see. He breaks away to breathe you in, humming in satisfaction, “It’s been a true pleasure, kitten.”

“That’s enough.” Jake’s voice cuts through the air with a razor’s edge.

Your face flames hot with a feeling of shame. There’s no denying what happened. There’s no backtracking the events of last night in an attempt to smooth things over. Not only has Jake caught you, but you’re rubbing the very idea of it in his face. Keeping his jade-colored eyes locked on yours, Kai straightens upright. The shit-eating grin and the wink he gives you is a tell-all. He’s not intimidated by him in the slightest — it’s all just another play of the game. With the cocky smile fixed on Kai’s face, he turns to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re threatened by me, Jake.”

Exhibiting an unwavering ego, Kai takes confident strides in the face of danger. There’s an unbridled rage tearing at the weakened seams of Jake’s composure, and you’re within seconds of witnessing it. Kai steps between him and the wall, towering over him by those crucial inches. You’ve seen this type of display before — that standoff between Josh and Jake in the tiny office. However, this feels very different to you. This goes beyond petty sibling rivalry. The glimmer in Kai’s eyes tells you he’s nowhere close to laying down and showing his belly for mercy.

He should just pass by Jake and walk right out that door, but he doesn’t. He gives in to the temptation and decides to toss out a final taunt. “She was a real treat last night.” The way the words slip so effortlessly from his quick-witted tongue leaves a bitterness on yours. “Which isn’t a surprise. I’ve always admired your taste. Although I will say I like her a lot better than Roxi.”

Jake suddenly lunges forward with the same ferocity of a rabid dog, grabbing fistfuls of Kai’s button-up. “Get her name out of your fucking mouth, you piece of shit!”

Being arguably stronger, roughly forty pounds heavier, and a couple of inches taller, Kai reacts quicker than your brain can process, making it seem as though it’s a frenzied blur of motion. He shoves Jake backward by the scruff of his shirt, throwing him into the opposite wall with enough force to make the picture frames rattle from the impact. Jake’s pinned, having all the air knocked from his chest. As calm as Kai seems to be, you’re not ignorant of the pacified aggression lying just beneath the surface. Through Jake’s grunts, he makes his threat clear as they stare into the darkest corners of their minds through each other’s eyes, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Jake.”

Afraid of the worst, your head snaps back to Josh, silently begging him to do anything to diffuse the situation. Fear has cast over his features as well, leaving you both frozen in place to watch it all unfold in front of your very eyes.

“Get the fuck off me!” Jake spits, ripping Kai’s hands from his clothing with a frustrated throw of his arms.

There’s so much more that he wishes to do. He wants to tear Kai to shreds — to throw a well-deserved punch into that chiseled jaw, to break that perfect nose, to leave him bloody and bruised, but he knows that the odds are stacked against him. It’s an unfair fight with far more disadvantages than he wants to admit. This is a match between a man with everything to lose and one wagering absolutely nothing.

While Jake blows the violent plumes of his anger through flared nostrils, Kai irons out the new wrinkles of his shirt with an unbothered pass of his palm. “And with that, I bid you all adieu.” Aware that the stakes are rising by the second, he doesn’t wait for the responses that are stuck in your throat and goes to leave. Before he takes the final step out of the door, he looks over his shoulder. “And Jake? That temper is going to get the best of you one day. Don’t let it get away from you.”

Jake throws up a middle finger, a gesture to which Kai responds with a dry, humorless laugh before closing the door behind him. Josh hears the door latch into place and steps toward his brother, calling out to him, “Jake—“

“Fuck you!” The words shot out of his mouth as a verbal strike — meant only to hurt. He hasn’t bothered looking at you until now, but when those eyes find you, you deeply wish they hadn’t. He glares at you with black, wounded eyes basted in pure, undiluted disappointment. You hate that look. It makes you feel sick and riddled with shame.

He picks up his guitar case, breaking eye contact to shoot Josh a hateful look of his own. He jabs a finger in the air, pointing directly at his brother. “You’re a fucking prick.”

Josh recoils but doesn’t say another word in defense. Pissed and not wanting to stay another second, Jake takes off down the hall toward the bedrooms.

You leap off the barstool, sending the chair skidding across the floor as you call after him, “Jake, wait! Let me explain!”

“Jake!” You bolt down the hall after him, but he doesn’t stop or at the very least, slow down for you. He doesn’t even bother glancing back at you to give you a hateful look. The only thing you’re given in return for your efforts is a slammed door in your face. You can only stare at the painted wood, contemplating whether you should knock or barge right in.

He’s shut you out — figuratively and literally.

Deflated, you walk aimlessly into Josh’s bedroom. Your feet are working separately from your mind, carrying you to his bed. You crawl on top of the disheveled duvet and breathe in the dissipating scent of Kai’s cologne. All you want to do is disappear, to take away the feeling that’s closing the walls of your chest.

You curl into the fetal position, making yourself as small as you possibly can. Lying there, you have a hard time telling how much time has passed when you hear Josh walking into the room and feel his weight shift across the mattress.

“Hey,” he says quietly, carefully reaching out to touch the back of your arm to comfort you. Feeling as though you don’t deserve it, you flinch from the gentle contact, shrugging his hand from your body. He sighs, “I know you’re mad at me, baby.” He then clears his throat, but the defeat coats every word like a sickness, “You have every right to be, honestly. I…I probably wasn’t in my right frame of mind last night. I mean don’t regret it… but shit… I wasn’t thinking that clearly either. I saw how the two of you were at the bar and saw the chance. I was so blinded by this fantasy I’ve had to sleep with him that I forgot about your feelings in all this. I didn’t care about Jake either. I knew he would be pissed but I didn’t care.” You can hear how painful the last sentence is to his heart. “I’m sorry I pulled you into this.”

You stare at the collection of vintage posters on his wall, letting the apology brew in your thoughts as you study the images. You aren’t angry with him. You never were, but you don’t have the energy to correct him on it now. You can’t even say you regret what happened with Kai, but you need answers to the questions assaulting the forefront of your mind. “Tell me about Roxi.”

Some time passes before he cuts through the looming silence. “Ah…shit. I don’t even know where to start with that,” he begins as he stretches across the bed next to you. You listen quietly, keeping your back to him. “I guess they met when they were about twenty or twenty-one. We were all fresh out of our apprenticeships when he started tattooing her and didn’t take long for them to become a thing. A will-they-won’t-they, on-again-off-again thing for five fucking years, babe. One minute they would be the sweetest lovebirds in front of you and then the next they were going at each other’s throats. I don’t want to say it was just her that was the problem, but she put him through a lot of bullshit for a long time.”

You can’t ignore the hints of anger in his voice. “He was in love with her?”

“In love with the idea of her. A version of her that will never, ever exist. I don’t care what anyone says to me about it. That’s what I believe. For years he chased after what he thought she could be. He was so convinced she was ‘the one’ that he bought a ring and everything. But there was no telling him that. It was one of those things you just had to let play out and let him learn for himself.”

You’re not sure why the truth he’s been hiding from you hurts, but it does. You lay silent, repeating Josh’s words over in your mind.

Josh isn’t oblivious to your broken breathing pattern — how hard you’re holding back from crying. He risks another touch by brushing his fingertips across your back. “Roxi has been out of the picture for a while, baby. Please don’t hold that weight on your shoulders. His issues with Kai don’t have anything to do with you and I, okay?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He stammers over his words, “I-I don’t know…I was selfish about you. I guess that it was easier to stuff his skeletons back in the closet. Maybe I thought it would be bad to put his business out there like that. Or maybe I thought she was in the past and it didn’t matter anymore.”

“He doesn’t even want to talk to me,” your voice croaks, broken from our hitched breath. “You saw it. He didn’t even want to look at me, Josh.”

He sighs, turning to nuzzle into the nape of your neck while wrapping a loose arm around your midsection. “He’ll come around, babe. He always does.” It’s hard to believe him, especially from what you heard about Jake holding grudges,

You feel the vibration of his phone against your ass. He lets out an annoyed groan, shifting to dig it out from his front pocket. “Shit! Today of all fucking days…” His sigh might as well have the weight of the world. He rests his forehead against your back, mumbling into the worn cotton, “I gotta head to the shop. Would you like to stay here or do you want me to drive you home?”

The thought of packing your stuff and leaving to be home by yourself nearly crushes you. You feel embarrassed, but ask anyway, “Is it okay if I just lay here for a while?”

“Of course, baby,” he coos reassuringly, placing a kiss on your cheek before crawling off the bed. He knows you need the space, so he doesn’t push any more affection onto you yet. “Text or call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

It’s been hours since Josh left for work, and you spent most of that time rotting in the duvet cocoon feeling sorry for yourself. There was a nap or two, but nothing to make you feel well-rested in any sense. If anything, you feel more exhausted, but with dusk finally falling, you’re forced to crack open the door. You hear the ominous sounds of someone shuffling around in the kitchen. The hallway is cast in darkness, but you can see that Jake’s door is open.

You’re going to have to face him.

There’s no avoiding it.

It looks as though he’s cooking dinner, prepping the pile of vegetables stacked on the center of the counter. He’s chopping away but doesn’t lift his head as you step closer. You know he hears you, so you stand on the opposite side of the island and wait for him to finally acknowledge you.

Even though he’s changed his clothing to a different band t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he’s never seemed more uncomfortable. His long hair is tied back in a messy, low bun with loose strands falling around his face. You make the first move to break the silence. “Are we gonna talk or what?”

The muscles of his jaw tighten, but he keeps his lips sealed together in an expressionless, thin line. “Jake, come on,” you prod, your impatience growing with every second he chooses to ignore you. He continues chopping, keeping his focus on the large onion pressed beneath his fingertips. His behavior ignites a flash of anger inside you like a struck match. “Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment right now?!” Nothing. Just the repetitive sound of the blade thumping against the cutting board. “Can you just tell me you’re mad?”

Your incessant pestering distracts him, causing the butcher knife to escape from his stranglehold grasp, cutting his finger which makes him drop the blade and hiss a curse under his breath. Instead of breaking away to tend to the fresh wound, he goes back to chopping the rest of the onion.

“You’re bleeding, Jake,” you mutter, thinking that he would’ve noticed the trail of blood running down the side of his palm and smearing across the vegetable. “Can you please just look at me? Talk to me.” You don’t care that you’re unwelcome. You won’t leave until you get a reaction out of him. “Just fucking say something. Anything. I know you’re pissed at me. Just tell me I’m fucking horrible. Tell me you hate me. Just say something.”

The fraying line that’s been keeping his composure finally snaps within seconds. He snatches the glass bowl full of diced onions sitting on the counter and hurls it into the wall to your right, screaming with rage as it flies through the air.

The small bowl shatters on impact, sending an explosion of glass shards and tiny bits of onion everywhere.

“FUCK!”

You recoil from the sound and the rise of his voice, staring blankly at the scene before you after being stunned into silence. This is the first real, raw emotion he’s shown you, and you’re not sure what to do with it. Several seconds of silence pass before you can finally breathe, “What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

He’s gripping the edge of the countertop with his head hung low, mumbling, “You just don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

He reaches for the crumpled tea towel beside him and wraps it around his bleeding finger, muttering in a low, calculated voice, “Kai is a fucking drifter and a player.” He clenches his fist around the soiled cloth, causing his knuckles to turn a ghostly shade of white. “He goes from one person to the next whenever he gets bored with them. It’s always been about an easy fuck for him. He fucking used you like he does everyone else. Don’t you see that?! He doesn’t care about you, dove.” The muscles tighten over his jaw while his darkened, sunken eyes rise to meet yours, giving you an icy scowl that threatens to make the blood run cold in your veins. “Never has, never will.”

Defensiveness comes as a visceral reaction for you. He’s dead wrong, and the last thing you’re about to do is let him barrel over you to prove it. You firmly stand your ground, spitting back harsh words of your own, “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Excuse me?!” He scoffs, chucking the ruined towel off to the side. That one hurt, and the pained look on his face is one you won’t forget.

You dig your heels in, throwing your arms in frustration as you double down, “Oh, so you can fuck all the girls you want but it’s suddenly a problem when I sleep with Kai?!”

Your thrown-in confession causes him to flinch, but confusion becomes layered deep within his anger. “Other girls? What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“The girls you’re texting, Jake! The women that pop up on your phone all the time!” You scream out, pointing to his phone resting on the counter. “Don’t think I don’t see it.”

“Wait a minute…Are you talking about my clients?!” He snaps, fraying apart while staying oblivious to the droplets of blood that are about to drip onto the floor.

“Oh please, Jake,” you huff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest, which brings his attention to the fact you’re wearing Josh’s shirt. “Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. I may be naive, but I’m not that fucking stupid.”

He laughs and inhales deeply, reigning in the anger enough to say the following words slowly, as if to spoon-feed you what he’s about to say, “I’m not fucking anyone else. I don’t know how else to explain that to you.”

A shred of doubt reveals itself. You want to trust him but your wounded pride forces you to mask it by deflecting. “And you really expect me to believe that? I saw how you flirted with those girls in the front row last night.”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You had your tongue shoved halfway down Kai’s throat!”

“What does it matter?! You acted like I didn’t exist, Jake! That I was a nobody to you. Now you’re trying to pin some kind of blame on me for what happened in the past between you and him. But guess what? I’m not Roxi.”

That flipped a massive switch, and for a split second, you almost regret letting her name leave your mouth. You’ll admit that it was immature of you, but you don’t care. The anger that's been kept at a steady simmer between you boils over into a seething rage, popping and bursting onto anything that stands too close. He points a threatening finger at you, spitting the venom-dipped words, “Don’t you fucking dare act like you know anything about her, because you don’t. But you’re right. I expected you to have higher standards for who you fucked than she did.”

“Well, I slept with you, didn’t I?!” You sneer, throwing his insult back in his face. He becomes unrecognizable from the tears glazing over your tired eyes, pooling at your lashes before they have the chance to spill over. You’re just out to hurt each other now, throwing verbal punches to see who can cause the most damage.

It seems as though you got the last shot in because he doesn’t strike out at you again. There are no smartass remarks for him to come back with. His eyes break away from yours, and his gaze falls to the bloody cutting board resting on the counter in front of him. “This was a fucking mistake.”

Moments ago you were shouting at each other from across the granite countertop, but now the house is deathly quiet after hearing those five words, so quiet that the air becomes too thick for you to breathe. The way his voice cracked ever so slightly makes your heart plummet into the pit of your stomach. You wait, hoping that it’s not what you think it means, or perhaps you’re just anticipating the worst.

Your voice catches from trying not to cry, “What’s a mistake?”

This feeling terrifies you. You’ve been betting against the odds this whole time, risking it all on the chance you wouldn’t care for him this way. You’ve been ignorant, determined to convince yourself that you weren’t falling in love.

Love.

How could you fall in love with both of them like this?

This should be a euphoric moment for anyone— something to be celebrated and cherished. Most would be confessing it under far different circumstances, instead you’re staring at that same man with hurt welling in his eyes. You run away from it like a coward, forced to bury it deep and shove it away before it has a chance to break you.

His shoulders fall as if all life has been drained from him. He waves an outstretched hand to nothing in particular, but there’s no life in the movement. “This.”

Uncomfortable silence stales between you, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. You see his brother’s softness in his face — a vulnerability he makes sure to keep from you. The look paired with the answer he gave crushes you. There’s a real possibility that you could lose him now that you’ve done an expert job of pushing him away. The need to be closer compels you to take a step, and you start to circle your way around the island. “So this is it then?”

Your hand follows the hard edge of the counter as you round the corner, sliding across its smooth surface. You grip onto it, using it as the only thing to ground yourself until you’re standing beside him. He doesn’t say a single word, move an inch, or even make an attempt to look at you. If anything, he stiffens from your presence. Feeling like he’s giving up on you, you challenge in a low voice, “Are you really done because you got jealous?”

“I’m not fucking jealous!” he shouts, slamming his hand down onto the counter through the resurgence of that rage. You jump back hearing the cutting board rattle beneath his palm, but it doesn’t scare you away. He’s just as scared, breathing heavily, watching you reach a hand out from the corner of his eye. He flinches when you touch his arm, but he doesn’t move away from you. In a weaker, pained voice, he says, “Do you actually think I don’t care about you?”

“Jake?” You whisper meekly, just barely grazing over his splayed fingers out of sheer desperation to connect with him in some way. Your heart aches when you see him pull his hand from yours, leaving behind a red stain across the wooden board. “Jake, please.”

You step into the heat and scent of his body, bringing yourself inches from him. Your broken pleas are the only thing you can offer, begging your way in despite his rejection to keep you out. He warns with your name pushing past his lips through a tired sigh.

You ignore it. With only a breath between you, you nudge your nose into the side of his neck, brushing your lips across the warm skin so faintly he might question if the feeling is real. He shudders through a harsh swallow but doesn’t push you away. You abandon your morals, kissing his throat with much more intent. A soft groan echoes in his throat as your tongue flicks across him and in the blink of an eye, he snatches your wrist, pulling you back.

You suck in a sharp breath, startled by his movements. While the hold he has on you isn’t painful, it’s firm, keeping you pinned between him and the island’s granite edge.

His other hand finds the nape of your neck, and he knots his fingers in your hair, forcing you to look up at him. You watch, dumbfounded as his bloodshot eyes scan over your face until they lock with yours. You accept your vulnerable state, submitting to him without a single word of protest.

“Oh, dove,” he hums, clicking his tongue. “Look at you…whimpering and crawling your way back to me like this. Do I need to lick your wounds for you, too?” He mocks in that gravelly voice of his, sending the words across your lips, each one bathed in whiskey as if he had recently taken a sip. You know he’s far from drunk, remembering the half-filled rocks glass sitting on the counter. “It’s pathetic. Did he even make you cum? Or did he need Josh’s help for that too?”

It should piss you off—the way he’s speaking to you like this. If you had any sense or dignity left, you would shove him off you and storm back into Josh’s room to gather your belongings.

Knowing you don’t have a response, he continues, “My sweet, beautiful dove. Is that name even fitting for you anymore? Or are you a cuckoo — tricking your way into my nest pretending to be something you’re not? I trusted you, yet here I am with betrayal finding me once again.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeak out, your strength cracking beneath him.

“Why should I let you back in? Do you think you’ve earned my forgiveness?” He hisses, his hurt seeping into the hushed sound. You don’t blame him. You’re not even confident that you could convince yourself that you deserve it. Left speechless, you’re only able to look up at him, glassy and doe-eyed with your tears falling freely down your flushed cheeks.

The sight of you changes something within him. He curses to himself before his lips collide with yours, angry and needy. He ruts himself against you, letting go of your wrist to brace himself on the counter. The kiss is heady— desperate with hunger as if he has been starving for this. He pants your name in a bated breath, confessing, “Don’t you see my weakness for you?”

It makes you throb to hear it. You need him. God, you need him and you don’t care what it’ll cost you. He devours you, licking into your mouth to consume everything he can. The smokey taste of him, the feeling of his dominant tongue running along yours, the nipping of his teeth on your lips. With your hand free, you search across his thigh, quickly finding his erection through his sweatpants. The thin fabric does nothing to hide it, letting you feel how hard he truly is.

You stroke your fingers over his covered length, but he stops you from dipping them beneath his waistband. Breaking away from the kiss, he warns, “I’m not going to be gentle with you.”

“I don’t care,” you whine into his mouth, fighting the grasp he has around your arm.

He squeezes your hand, emphasizing again, “I’m serious. I’m not going to be careful, dove.”

You glare into his eyes, staying in his darkened irises — perhaps to call his bluff or maybe to bait him further. “I want this.”

“Fine,” he huffs, releasing your hand. He then steps back, flipping you around to face away from him. Before you can react, he places a hand flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your chest is flush with the counter’s surface. You shiver the chill of the stone against your hardening nipples through your shirt. “Is this really what you want?”

You swallow to wet your tongue, answering, “Yes.”

Without another warning, his open palm connects with your ass, cracking against the flesh with a powerful slap. You cry out as the sting radiates, prickling the skin with its heat.

“I turn my back for one second and I catch you giving your perfect pussy away to him.” His fingertips skim across the raised mark he left, tracing along the edge of your panties before hooking the band and pulling the cotton down your legs. You hear the threads of it rip on the way to the floor, then feel his fingers ghost over your bare cunt. He spits, and you imagine how it looks as he starts stroking himself before pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. “Don’t forget your color.”

There’s no foreplay to get you ready for him this time because he buries himself inside you in a single powerful thrust. The moan that heaves from your chest is guttural. You welcome the pain of him stretching you out so quickly, groaning as it melts into pleasure when he slowly withdraws.

He doesn’t allow you to bask in it for long, snapping his hips forward to ram himself back into your cervix. His hand grips around your waist, balling the material of your shirt between his fingers.

He lives up to his word, fucking you harder than he ever has before. There’s no doubt that this is fueled by his anger or possibly a newfound hatred for you, but you take it all in, biting back your muffled cries. While your teeth create a row of indents into the flesh of your forearm, his fingers dig deeper into your hip. He doesn’t talk you through like he has in the past, giving you the sounds of his ragged breathing instead.

The rhythm he uses is unrelenting. The power behind his thrusts is unprecedented. He’s rough with you, just as he promised, pressing you against the cold, hard granite, left with nothing to brace yourself. You’re lost in it, overwhelmed by the fact that this might be the very last time you have him.

Fearful that you won’t be able to handle much more, you whimper out, “Jake.”

He suddenly freezes at the sound of his name and takes a minute for the both of you to catch your breath before pulling completely out of you. You panic thinking that it might be over, and plead over your shoulder. “No, don’t stop!”

“Color?”

“Green.”

He waits for a second before spinning you around to lift you onto the countertop. He slips himself back in, and after seeing how much you’ve been crying, tucks the hair stuck to your temple behind your ear and cradles your face to kiss you.

“Close your eyes for me,” he instructs calmly, effectively shushing you. You clutch onto his shoulders and wrap your legs about the small of his back, locking him inside you as you allow your eyelids to flutter closed. He holds you still, sending the warmth of his fluttering breath until his tongue passes over your cheek in a delicate flick. He licks up the trails of tears across your skin, cleaning the dried salt as he makes his way to your soaked lashes. He’s breaking you apart only to put you back together again.

A choked sob escapes you, “I’m so sorry, Jake.”

He groans in response to the sounds of your weeping, biting at your swelling cheek before burying his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in, and finds a new pace, gliding into you with a controlled ease.

“Say it again,” he growls against your ear with a deliberate thrust. “I need to hear you beg for it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine, but absentmindedly. You’re more than distracted, using most of your focus on the way his cock hits your g-spot from the change in angle.

“Sorry for what?”

“For Kai,” you blurt out.

His hand wraps around your throat, tight enough to grab your attention and redirect it to him. “Use your words.”

You look at him, blinking away the cloudiness from your vision to see the sweat glistening across his forehead and his heavy-lidded eyes covering his blown pupils. You can be upset at him later, but for now, you give him the apology he wants. “I’m sorry for fucking Kai.”

He brings his lips to the shell of your ear — his exhale blowing from his nostrils like air from a pair of bellows. “I thought I told you I don’t fucking share, dove,” he scolds with the words searing off his tongue. “I let you fuck Josh.” A chill runs down your spine because he knows your feelings for his twin. Before tonight, this was all a role, an act that he knew turned you on. That line between it and the real him is becoming more and more blurred, with the phrase ringing in your ears, echoing around in your mind. “Don’t forget that.”

“Jake—“

He interrupts by swiping his wet fingers across your lips, painting them in a sticky, crimson smear. You lick across them, but there’s no denying the metallic taste of blood on your tongue. “Your pussy is mine,” he snarls, letting his jealousy possess him entirely.

He pulls away slightly and guides you to lean back, creating space between you. You’re able to see the soiled state of Josh’s white t-shirt that you’re wearing. It’s stained in a spattering of bloody prints and wrinkled beyond recognition. You can’t dwell on it for long because Jake’s pace has quickened again, and when he realizes you haven’t responded, he snaps, “Say it!”

There’s ferality in his gaze, and you’re running off the adrenaline of it all — blinded by poisonous lust and raw emotion. “It’s yours.”

“Now touch it. Make yourself cum for me.”

You do as you’re told without hesitation, bringing your shaky fingers to your clit. He holds onto your hips as his line of sight floats from your face down to your pussy, watching you pleasure yourself while he continues to fuck you.

You notice that his hair has fallen free from the hair elastic, draping most of his face in the curtain of chestnut locks. He’s held onto full control until this point, but now even he can’t hold back, grunting, “Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

Making eye contact with you, he tips his head and spits aggressively onto your swollen cunt — giving you an image you will never forget. He doesn’t even have to tell you what to do next. With slick fingers, you slip them effortlessly across yourself, using your favorite technique.

You’re close.

He’s beginning to falter as well, revealing to you that he’s not going to last much longer. You race to the finish line, frantic in your movements to make yourself orgasm. Fighting the temptation to cum, his strokes are a combination of deep and shallow, making sure to hit every spot inside you perfectly. He’s learned you well enough, after all.

“Be a good girl and make it up to me,” he pants desperately.

It doesn’t take much more for you to fall apart. Within seconds, it all comes crashing down around you. You claw for him to be as close as possible, tightening your shaky legs around his waist to keep him inside you. What would normally be euphoric moans sung into the air, are broken cries and muffled curses. It might’ve been the release you were craving the most, but not the one you needed.

Because you know when the dust begins to settle, you’ll be left with the truth of it all — those feelings without the sex to disguise them.

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