#one guy on acoustic guitar who was doing The Least | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year

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don't hold hands, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You're fucking your ex-boyfriend's ex-best friend. You also now own a condo with him and owning this condo has made you house-poor. Yeah, it's not the usual love story and it's not going to be one. Not until you paint the walls black, that is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mostly conversations and feels tbh; minor smut (fem reader, marking / scratching, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU; guitarist!music producer!Yoongi x novelist!reader - fwb / roommates-to-lovers

just a story about two people who shouldn't fall in love falling in love, I have plenty of nasty smut so this is a different beat for ya lmao

“Is it fun being tortured?”

“Not really, no.”

It wasn’t fair to be this critical but, as long as you didn’t let these words travel outside this room, it was fine, right? At least, you kept telling yourself that. Delusion at its finest.

“It’s so stupid that people enjoy sticking their nose in drama that doesn’t involve them only because their lives are too boring to have any,” you sighed, tossing your phone across your desk, letting it skid into a pile of post-its covered in scrawled notes. “All because I deleted some photos.”

Notifications were now blocked.

“Some people mistake privilege with right.”

You glared at your phone even though the contents were the offender and not the device. Rolled your eyes, knowing you would be coming back to a shitstorm, but you couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be a limit. And the voice beside you had been telling you to put the damn thing down and stop deleting comments one by one, but the stubborn ram in you thought you could just headbutt through the bullshit.

And that imagery was gonna end there, thank you very much.

Your forehead found the palm of your hand and you sighed again, suddenly feeling the weight.

“I’m never doing that again.”

“You don’t have to.”

Minutes passed.

Silence never felt so serene.

Then it was cut through by steady, slow acoustic guitar, the notes drifting out from behind you. It almost made you feel more guilty. Almost. How fucked was that? You, sitting here right now, staring at nearly bare walls and a table covered in notes and your trusty laptop, almost feeling guilty for the guy that had backed out of the joint loan for this condo in the city that you didn’t even fuckin’ want, but you had been too far into the process to not lose a whole lotta money and too angry to let yourself lose.

How ironic, feeling guilty for the guy who cheated on you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” was the guitar player’s response. “And you shouldn’t be either. For anything.”

You knew you shouldn’t apologize. It just felt like the thing to do, because you hadn’t been wholly right either and, even if you weren’t more in the wrong, you were still wrong, and wasn’t that fucked, putting levels of blame on a situation that, at the end of the day, was all said and done and left everybody bitter and full of scars.

The shitty part was everyone was on your case now and blaming you.

This was what you got for dating the lead singer of a punk band that skyrocketed to popularity on social media. Looked all elegant dark romance on TikTok and Instagram, just screaming and hate-fucking behind closed doors. Constant content to cover up the toxicity. And maybe it was your fault too, letting it get to your head that maybe you really were the beautiful, mysterious muse that the followers painted you out to be. You glossed over red flags – late nights, drugs and drinking, sleeping in rooms of girls that called themselves fans – all part of the industry. Nothing happened. Honest. But the greatest mistake was letting him tag you on Instagram. How cool was it that you were an author?

This bastard.

Not only had you given him some of your best quotes for his lyrics, but now you couldn’t publish those words as your own because this bastard would fuckin’ sue you for plagiarizing.

The guitar continued behind you, on the mattress on the floor.

So, not only were you getting crucified on social media at the moment because he had called you a backhanded bitch in his Instagram stories but also because you had deleted all photos of him on your profile and said fucking nothing. Silence to be polite and all that. He cheated on you, he was leaving you for some whore you had plenty of suspicions about, and, worst of all, he waited until you and him were finalizing the down payment for this expensive-ass-fuck high-rise condo – that money was out of your own pocket, not his, how convenient – and backed out of the loan for the mortgage. His reasoning?

You cheated on him first.

Hello?

With his former guitarist.

Hello?

Your ex-boyfriend had fired his former guitarist ages ago because you and him had gotten too friendly.

Alright, man.

You liked the guy, sure. Talked to him when he was in the studio and found you had a lot in common. Plus, he was crazy talented. Made most of the melodies, self-produced a lot of the songs for the band so they could save money, even contributed to lyric writing so they didn’t have to spend on that either. He even had a good voice, although sadly the band rarely used it. Your art of words paired with his knowledge of music made some viral hits. But then tensions rose between him and your ex when they started butting heads for no reason (there was a reason and it was ugly jealousy). Then arguments rose between you and your ex, but instead of breaking up, you buried yourself into writing your next novel to let the situation cool off.

Sigh, okay, call a spade a spade.

You were avoiding the confrontation.

He fired his guitarist and got a new one.

Then things were good.

Until they weren’t.

Of course, they weren’t. You didn’t solve shit, and he was fucking every girl that threw themselves at him behind your back. Good thing you had strict rules about condoms, otherwise you would probably have some lasting consequences right now. So, when the ground cracked and split apart from under you, what did you do?

Yup, this was the part that made you no better.

You found that former guitarist and fucked him.

Word travelled around. Word also travelled around that somehow you got someone to be part of that insane loan you got talked into. And, oh, shit, did things get messy once a certain someone knew who it was.

But here you were.

Feeling guilty.

You probably couldn’t publish for at least six months to a year because, harrowingly, your demographic was young adult – you had even relied on social media for self-marketing, fuck – and the half of a novel you had now had to be scrapped considering that so many of the quotes were now distressed in dark venues by the lips of an egomaniacal dick that you allowed into your pussy far too many times. Once was already too many.

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to live in the city.

It’ll be so much easier for me to get bigger opportunities. Don’t be a selfish bitch and only think about yourself.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to throw your laptop into the wall and break it into smithereens, but you didn’t because this piece of technology was currently your only chance of making money. Fuck. Me. Always talking about himself like he was only important member of the band, even though it was the other guys who wrote most of the music and lyrics. No one sided with you, obviously. This was their job and technically not their romance. They were sympathetic but not empathetic to the point of jeopardizing their jobs. Obviously, you hadn’t signed any contracts for royalties or credit. This was supposed to be your soulmate.

Soulmates weren’t so generous to give you pennies.

You’re being greedy and self-important. Oh, so you’re only in the relationship for the money? I’ll give you money once we make it big. Once we get it all, I’ll buy you everything you want. But you gotta help me out now. We’re starving artists, ya know?

You should have asked your parents for monetary help, but you didn’t. Your pride didn’t want to hear the told-you-so speeches for dating a guy they didn’t choose for you. You also didn’t want the arranged marriage appointments back in your life either.

So.

Trapped in white walls, post-its of false starts, and impending doom.

Dramatic, but you were a writer.

“Come here and sit down with me.”

Some part of you didn’t want to face him. It was really dumb. He was your new roommate now. You were fucking him when you were too sad to avoid it, and it was pretty obvious he knew. You were living off his money. Sure, he only paid for half the rent but then food mysteriously appeared in the fridge, bathroom necessities were stocked when they were running low, cleaning supplies neatly sorted into the closet, and all that other shit. None of that wholesale stuff either, but the nicer things normal households could afford.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that you cried into the soap during your shower last night.

All because you finally acknowledged it wasn’t one of those shitty bars that made skin feel like plastic but actually fragrant lathering liquid that you could put on the dense, not-falling-apart-in-one-use loofah that you hadn’t bought. You would have been satisfied with cutting coupons and living on the dregs of the bare minimum, but someone cared enough to not let you do that, and you currently couldn’t do anything to contribute and probably couldn’t for a while.

And that made you feel undeserving.

Maybe you were only fucking him because that was all you could offer.

Pathetic.

The guitarist called your name softly.

Like a beaten dog, you got up and sat down beside Min Yoongi.

He continued to play a melody you didn’t know on his black acoustic guitar. He hadn’t moved in all his instruments and equipment yet. You had told him he could have the whole living room for his studio. He had asked if you were sure and you responded that you were sure that you weren’t going to have anybody over ever so, unless he wanted a living room space, you didn’t want one.

“Shit always happens, you know,” the deep voice reminded you.

“This happening was of my own doing and now I’ve ruined my own life,” you muttered, bitter over a boy and hating that you were bitter over a boy.

A small chuckle. “You have to admit you had help.”

Stupid boy.

“Can’t be helped. Humans are animals of regret.”

It stung to regret.

The guitar playing stopped and now you were met with silence.

Don’t cry.

But it was so tiring to be angry. So easy to be sad. So easy to think, my fault, for being swept up in what he was but not who he was, for believing that you knew what was best when clearly it wasn’t, for being spiteful on purpose. For avoiding looking at Yoongi in the face because you were too ashamed to acknowledge what was going on here.

For being too afraid to ask what he thought of it.

“I regretted not stealing you from him sooner. Thought you were too fuckable for that loser from the first day we met.”

A strange feeling.

Skin prickling, glancing the that pale hand of graceful, callused fingers simply resting on the neck of that guitar, not looking at Yoongi’s face even though you knew it quite well in profile.

“That’s one way to make me feel better,” you replied.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Just being honest,” he replied, tapping his fingertips on the wood. “You are ten times too talented and a hundred times too pretty for a guy like that.”

You twitched. “Are you shitting on my standards?”

“Back then? Yeah, I am.” A calm hum, setting aside his guitar and placing his elbows on his sweatpants-covered knees, charcoal gray and worn. “Pretty clear you went full desperado for a guy that didn’t deserve it. Also, he ain’t hot shit like he thinks he is.”

Ow and what the fuck. “Fuck off.”

You felt movement and tracked his hand raising, spinning a finger around his temple. A brief glance and the details sank in. Long, windswept black waves, light cream skin, pointed gaze directed forward and not at you, pensive slight frown of pink lips. You looked away again, past his loose white t-shirt and to your hands.

You used to be proud of them.

They used to be able to type prose like no other.

Now they were twisted in an oversized, olive-green sweatshirt that you picked up from the sale bin of the convenience store for dirt cheap and they didn’t write jack shit.

You also hated olive-green.

Nothing personal. It just wasn’t your color.

“You’re a psycho bitch to put up with him,” Yoongi commented.

He wasn’t wrong. “I’m a psycho bitch all the time.”

“Yeah, and I don’t date crazy.”

You thought you would feel insulted, but you were past the point of caring. Also, there was something about the way his calm voice said it. Like he knew what he was doing. Huh. That was a silly thing to think. Of course, Yoongi knew what he was doing. He did it. He let you in his studio when you tracked it down and camped out until he showed up. He had listened to your psychobabble and didn’t back away when you pinned him to the wall.

This wasn’t dating.

“At least, I thought I didn’t,” Yoongi added, not touching you.

He fucked you too. He wasn’t a starfish in bed, that was for sure.

“I wanted to get back at him too, you know,” that deep, hazy voice murmured beside you. “That bastard turned my friends against me, stole my mixes, and cut out all my connections. Made me start from the ground up, alone.”

Yeah, you did know that. You helped badmouth Yoongi. In the name of love.

Shit.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

Ouch.

“And you shouldn’t be, ‘cause what’s done is done and being sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

You untwisted your hands from each other, realizing your knuckles were white from anxiousness, and relaxed them on your bare knees. Best you could, anyway.

“Yeah,” was the best response you had. This fucking boy ruined your life and stole your eloquence too, apparently. Motherfucker. “You’re right.”

Neither you or Yoongi said anything.

Minutes passed.

Another night in the condo and both of you were sitting on a mattress with a single blanket, deflated pillows, and a box of condoms on the floor.

You touched his forearm the same time his hand moved to grip your thigh.

And then it was the don’t-look-him-in-the-eyes challenge, and he was doing the exact same thing, eyes averted, black hair over them, lips grazing your jaw. Breath against your ear. Hot. His neck under your lips, flexed, fair skin with remnants of bruises, and your teeth sank in, making new ones, listening to his hiss and feeling his hands slide under your sweatshirt. Weighted palms and blunt nails. Digging in.

“Harder.”

He scratched you up as you climbed into his lap, tasting flesh.

Those firm hands gripped your hips and forced them down. Grinding. Softness to growing hardness, unhooking your bra, hands all over like you had lost your mind, your thighs squeezing his sides, yanking his shirt collar down and licking up his collarbone, dripping spit, shivering as you saw it glisten over his marred skin.

Clothes coming off, thrown aside. Guitar sliding to the hardwood floor as bodies tumbled. Your hands on his chest, your hard nipples pressed into the sheets as Yoongi slipped his hand into your hair and shoved your head down. Mouth open, tongue curling around. Moan striking the air, echoing in the nothingness.

Hard, hot, now wet.

Up, down, hitting the back of your throat, unable to choke in the adrenaline of lust, in need, in desire for pain, rubbing your tongue all over as Yoongi face-fucked you hard and fast, thick cock swelling in your mouth, your lips grazing the swollen head and making him shudder, saliva slipping down your chin that was smacking into his balls.

Was it shameful that you were good at it?

Sex solved nothing but you sure had a lot of it as if it did.

A sharp gasp and salty cum filled your throat, drinking, swallowing with effort and the burning sensation of your locked jaw, maintaining the soft tightness. Tongue tracing the contours, keeping him hard, hearing the rip of a foil packet above your head.

You hadn’t even realized that Yoongi had let go of your hair, letting you lick him all over at your own pace.

“What position?” Yoongi panted, husky and breathless in the mostly empty bedroom.

Mattress, chair, desk, laptop. Oh, and guitar.

Bodies on the floor.

You didn’t say anything.

You just turned around and slid down, elbows on the bed, knees spread, ass up.

“Alright then.”

You bit your lower lip.

You almost turned your head, almost looked back, just to check, right, just to check he was okay with it, and then strong hands gripped your hips, lifting them, sliding in, condom on and stretching you out right away, his knees pushing your knees apart and forcing you to arch your back for the angle.

No chance to look back.

You gasped, gripping the sheets, blinded by pleasure and the fading resonance of pain.

Hard.

Deep.

You pushing back, deep not deep enough, hitting your preferred depth and letting your eyelids flutter, veins burning with the repeated ecstasy. One of your hands lifted and reached back, squeezing his hand on your hip, and the grip became tighter, fingertips digging in, smacking his hips into your ass, and your body threatened to throw him back, carnal power meeting his every thrust, clenching around his hard length, and you could hear Yoongi growl your name, low and deep and voracious.

Somehow, his name fell from your lips too.

Rough and sinful, no better than an animal.

His nails dug into your back and dragged down, burning lines into your skin.

Your head tipped back and you moaned, a clear, shameless sound that would become familiar to this ceiling. Pooling wildfire, tightening muscles, wasted nectar sticky between joined thighs, surge after shivering surge of orgasmic apex stinging your veins as you barely registered Yoongi’s shudder and blissful groan, feeling the pulse inside you made than hearing the sound.

The rush of blood roaring in your ears was far too loud for you to hear anything.

Your face felt hot, so hot.

Gripping the sheets, twisting them, pulling them off the edge of the bed.

This moment.

Very few things were as intense and exigent as an orgasm. Fleeting, but a violently memorable. Pure nothingness of soaring high. You chased it. Again. And again. And again, your fingers tangled in Yoongi’s dark hair, pulling it over his face but he didn’t look at you anyway, eyes closed and teeth trapping his lower lip, breath trapped in his chest, driving his hips into yours again and again.

You both kept going until the limits were reached.

The darkness willingly swallowed you up.

Min Yoongi always considered himself a rational person, which was precisely why he found himself entangled in the break-up between his former best friend and the only woman he ever considered committing a felony for.

Yeah.

He also didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was still way too hot for that idiot though.

His eyes could communicate well enough with his dick. The short skirt and exposed thighs didn’t really help either. Still, Yoongi had let it be. Respect was keeping his distance despite racing heartbeat and keeping calm despite shaking hands. He got used to it once the late-night talks about music and wordplay became a regular thing. Sometimes they talked about general life and were surprised on how well they aligned. Still, she never spoke poorly about her then-boyfriend even though there was plenty to talk about.

Scorched earth was their sacred ground.

It was painful to witness.

Yoongi regretted valuing the friendship, mostly because it didn’t mean jack shit at the end of the day. He regretted believing in the elegant, age-old saying.

Bros before hoes.

Tch.

But mostly, Yoongi regretted pretending like nothing was wrong.

He would see the pain in her expression and not say anything. Watch her pack it all away and greet him with warmth that he didn’t deserve because he had a racing heart and shaking hands every time they met. He would watch his former best friend disappear into hotel rooms without explanation and Yoongi knew damn well it wasn’t right, but he kept his mouth shut because he was a coward, something he figured out later.

He could have washed his hands clean of that shitshow, but instead his hands had held her shaking shoulders and watched her struggle not to cry on that cold night.

Yoongi considered himself a rational person, but never a good one.

Too many ways to judge, and her lips had already connected with his as soon as his shoulder blades hit the wall. He didn’t stop it. Maybe it was bitterness. Vengeance. Hate.

No, it wasn’t any of that, actually.

He didn’t know exactly what but, in that moment, Yoongi knew that he would murder that asshole if he saw his former best friend’s face right then, ready to commit a felony all because those beautiful eyes couldn’t look at him, closing instead to blink back the tears that bastard didn’t deserve.

That meant something, all right.

He knew it could take a long time. He knew it would almost certainly be hopeless. He knew he would probably end up with a broken heart and broke as hell. He knew it was a bad idea and he knew it was going to tear him up, this spiral, but when he found himself looking up to the ceilings of these mostly empty rooms, this condo he now half-owed with the woman that was formerly his best friend’s girlfriend, and Yoongi found he didn’t know and he didn’t care what the future held.

She had trouble sleeping.

Less trouble after exhausting themselves.

He had trouble sleeping too, but that was because he was staring at the ceiling and wondering just how rational he really was. One hand behind his head, under the pillow. The other resting on the blanket, on the curve of her hip, feeling the steady hum of her breathing.

She never cried in front of him.

He knew she did cry, because he heard her in the bathroom sometimes. But never in front of him. Showed anger, yes, but never acted helpless even though it was perfectly reasonable to feel that way after everything that happened. Living on the least for his sake, even to the point of skipping meals and spending all her time trying to write, trying to get back to her livelihood, trying to get past all the false starts. Personally, Yoongi felt that she should give up for now and heal herself, but he also knew how it felt to feel stubborn and useless.

Hah.

It was weird, being so close and yet so far away.

He felt it most in the nighttime, even though that was when he was closest to her.

He was never going to be the same. He knew that. He already wasn’t, surprising himself with his own recklessness, and for what? He didn’t even know what she was capable of reciprocating after receiving all those scars. Didn’t even know if he was the right one, if he was better or worse, if…

If he was believing in something that wasn’t there.

Yoongi closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Livid.

It was weird. Feeling it. In the past, you buried it, numb, and promptly lived in delusion. But now you could feel it. What was more, you let yourself feel it. There wasn’t anything to stop you except for the occasional mental peanut gallery of you’re a bad person if you feel jealousy, but anger could overtake anything if you let it.

You stared at the scene before you, several meters away.

Seething.

It felt good.

Mostly because it was honest.

It surprised you. You hadn’t expected to feel anything. Sad, maybe. You had already been cheated on, so naturally you assumed the cycle would begin anew, just with less promises and in the gray area of uncertainty. But, no, instead of being distraught and delusional, you felt maddeningly, viciously, nearly on-the-edge of making a fist and dislocating Min Yoongi’s jaw from his skull because he was speaking to a female-presenting human at the entrance of the building that housed his and others’ music studios.

Did you lack context? Yes.

Would that get you arrested? Yeah, probably.

Would that probably not get your laid anymore and label you as an unhinged psychopath? Without a doubt.

But would it feel good?

Don’t know.

You had never punched someone before, although maybe you should have practiced on your ex-boyfriend. He was probably a more deserving candidate. In any case, you remained frozen in perplexation at your willingness for violence because you were pretty sure your… relations… with Yoongi were nothing more than a lonely bitch and a spiteful silver tongue executing revenge, so the amount of fucks you should give about Yoongi speaking to any human being – other than the obvious health and safety precautions – should be zero.

None.

Basket of fucks empty.

And yet.

Clearly wasn’t since you were mentally calculating the angle and force for jaw dislocation while having zero experience in doing so. In any sort of non-virtual manner, that is.

Hm.

Your hands were firmly in the pockets of your black cargo pants. The hip ones, although you had plenty of choice. You kept them there for the safety of passerby or, maybe deep down, yourself. This caused your jacket to fall open, the outlines of the sew-on patches and thick, bunched-up black denim crowding the space between your forearm and waist, your black cropped tank exposed to the chill evening air. You used to wear a plethora of band t-shirts, but, well, those were probably in a landfill or rotting in a secondhand shop.

You figured you would be cold. Unsurprisingly, the anger kept you warm.

Huh.

You thought about turning around and just straight up leaving, petty and picturesque of course, and then Yoongi seemed to sense your projected violence, looking up from the conversation. Dark waves over his cheeks, striking body line, backing away, hiding his eyes for a moment, not that you could see them that well from this distance. You twitched.

The girl reached out.

Yoongi simply bowed, out of reach, and pushed the glass door open.

Honestly, her role in this moment was so miniscule that you completely ignored whatever she did or possibly could have said to Yoongi’s retreating back. Sharpened gaze, and then he crossed the street with the crowd, walking past oblivious bystanders who may or may not become the harrowed audience of the next thirty seconds.

He stopped before you. Bomber jacket, white shirt, black track pants. Monochrome elegance.

You looked up at him, saying nothing.

Over one shoulder was his usual guitar bag that held said instrument and his yellow notepad sticking out of the pocket. He used it to jot down whatever came to him. You almost said something. Almost. Then you remembered that if this, this between you and Min Yoongi, if this was supposed to be nothing, then weren’t you supposed to do nothing but voice your casual annoyance for making you wait rather than, well.

Admit insecurity?

You looked away quickly.

No, it did not matter how reasonable it was, you didn’t like knowing that somehow you had been weakened by an ex-boyfriend, barely a man, no, a mere locust at best, so it was better to not say anything and accept that this was–

“Sorry, I got caught up with the staff about ending my lease.”

Compromised.

You didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Gonna end my lease this month and move my studio stuff to the condo. I can’t afford both.”

He had told you this already. It had been your idea. You already knew you were overreacting to a situation that you created in your head rather than reality. And, yet, the best your mind would allow was uh huh, a plausible explanation, sarcasm included.

“Ah. Right,” was your sharp, mildly frigid reply.

“I can’t read your mind.”

Do you intend to be exhausting?

Your mental peanut gallery was super annoying.

You breathed in. Cool, crisp air. The sound of cars and people bustling in and out of stores. You breathed in again. Did you really intend to be exhausting, irrational, and, worst of all, dishonest? Really, after all that had happened? After getting here, standing here, arriving to pick up Yoongi at his request to do the grocery shopping together?

You turned back to look right into black-brown, piercing orbs.

“I just realized that I have the ability to be jealous,” you exhaled, draining your lungs. “It’s unpleasant and not nearly as delightfully pivotal as the media makes it out to be.”

Something fluttered in those orbs.

Or maybe it was the wind catching his bangs, drifting black strands over his eyes shadowed by dark circles.

Yoongi half-smiled.

“Makes for good songwriting material though.”

There was an air of helplessness to his words. A tone you couldn’t define, except for the understanding, which left you both baffled and with a sense of guilt. There were emotions in that barely-there smirk on those familiar lips. Relief. Maybe a slight bit of shame. A shadow of guilt too. You realized people were glancing at you and him as they walked past, wondering why you both were at a standstill on the sidewalk. Yoongi seemed to not notice them or care.

You pulled your hands out of your pockets.

“Come on. We should go before it gets dark.”

Before you noticed it, your hand was rising.

You pulled it back, but not fast enough.

Yoongi’s free hand reached out and grasped around yours, strong fingers enclosing. Sliding up, calluses on your palm. Your hand lowered, slowly, your eyes moving in the opposite direction. Lips parting. His hand was colder than yours.

You stared at Yoongi.

He looked back, expression unreadable.

“I don’t hold hands,” you said, suddenly breathless.

You tightened your grip.

“Neither do I,” Yoongi replied, taking a step, on the cusp of walking past you, his hand around yours. “I simply just don’t like the idea of yours getting cold when I can do something about it.”

Previously, when you held hands, it was always with a purpose of showing public affection. The look-how-real-this-is-because-there-are-clear-witnesses show. Front row tickets nobody asked for. But this.

This.

You blinked hard and the sting was inside.

The sting of wasted time.

Your name in that raspy, soft voice. Familiar. You looked up, not saying anything and hoping the eye contact was enough. All Yoongi did was smile lightly and tug your hand.

“Let’s get take-out and shop tomorrow. We have plenty of time to eat healthier.”

“You can cry in front of me.”

Min Yoongi heard her breath hitch and still.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by. It was the dead of night. Or maybe one could call it the time when honesty came to life, if the conditions were right. He knew this time well usually with a drink in his hand, but this time he was laying on his side with bruises of bites and carnal memories lingering on his fingertips.

“I wasn’t crying.”

Her voice was thick and strained from trying to keep it even. Her moment of jealousy had happened days ago. He had recognized it right away. Call it personal experience. He also recognized that she didn’t like to feel that way. It was obvious from her torn yet furious expression. It confirmed a lot of things for him. Still, she seemed pleased to help him move and set up his things in the bedroom. They found the living room to be a bit too echoey due to the large space so they switched the two, pulling the mattress to the living room and setting up his equipment in the center of what was formerly the bedroom.

He told her to paint the condo.

She had mentioned in passing that someday she would like to paint her entire living space black. Not this place, because he owned it too, and you probably think I’m crazy for wanting a dark space, huh, Yoongi? He asked her, why wait? No one lives forever. We’re just passing through.

She had given him a weird look.

We own this condo. Paint it.

There were cans of black paint waiting.

Yoongi had intended to go visit his family over the weekend. His parents and his brother who had recently been promoted to head chef at the classy restaurant he worked at. Someone in the family needed to have prestige. Well, that was his own personal feeling. Surprisingly at this point his parents had even up on telling him to get a higher-paying job. They told him to simply be happy.

And get married.

Yeah, about that.

He was still trying to get used to the music producer thing, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you afraid I won’t understand?” Yoongi let himself say, not turning around yet.

Sometimes, people didn’t want you to see them weak. He could understand that.

Call it personal experience.

A shuddering sigh. Deep breaths. Words bogged down, drained.

“I can only be so pathetic before I lose my mind recalling the past,” she mumbled. He felt her weight deepen on her side of the bed, as if she was trying to melt into the mattress. “I made things hard for myself. For you. It’s pointless to cry about it anyway. In the end, it only makes me look ungrateful.”

Yoongi thought about it.

“It’s true that you probably shouldn’t have involved me.”

He shifted, laying on his back now.

“But I’m not a good person either. I agreed, after all,” he murmured, his skin tingling with bruises and carnal memories. “Hm, to be honest, he was always a dick though, from high school till now. Always will be, I fear.”

“You’re easygoing enough not to be affected by his asshole behavior.”

“Not my job to change people. I leave that to parents and clueless fools.”

A pensive silence. Surprisingly not an irritated one. She seemed to accept it.

“Why did you become his friend?” she asked, staring at the ceiling with him.

“We just happened to like the same thing. Music.”

“I’m lucky you decided to become his friend.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m lucky that somehow he managed to bamboozle a hot and clever girl, two things he’s obviously not.”

She almost laughed. Almost.

“Who the fuck uses the word bamboozle?”

“You had to admit you were bamboozled, because you sure as hell weren’t dick-drunk.”

“Oh? You think you’re that good, huh?”

“No, I just know he’s that much worse.”

The faintest of chuckles.

“You… You get better every time,” she admitted. “I think I just caught you off guard the first time.”

“Firstly, I don’t like wasting time and, secondly, I had given up for a while before…” I met you. “Romance seemed like an expensive, worthless distraction when I could be using that time and money trying to push the band forward,” he pivoted, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Then that went to shit.”

“Sorry.”

Automatic.

He chuckled darkly. “I’m confident I got the better deal.”

A trembling pause.

“Why do you think that?”

He reached over and placed his palm on the top of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. Messing it up.

“Tell me the truth. Was he good at sex?”

A burst of laughter. “Really? Alright. No, he wasn’t. He sucked. Thought he was a piston of a muscle car instead of a human being. Oh, and once he fell asleep on top of me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Turned his head and forced hers to turn as well.

She was smiling.

Yoongi found his chest tight and breath shallow.

“And you didn’t leave him then… why?” he pressed.

She winced, albeit playfully. “I yelled at him. A lot. I don’t know, maybe he was tired.”

“Not an excuse.”

“I know, I know…” Sigh. “I… I didn’t want to believe I made the wrong choice.” Her eyes shifted, but her body was still turned to face his. “I… It made my entire family angry, dating him. Especially my parents. They would never forgive me and hold it over my head forever. I had to make it work. I thought, if only I worked hard enough…” Another heavy breath, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I know it was pride, but I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could do anything. Bad choices? Maybe. But they were mine. I don’t want my life decided by what is best for me. If I suffer for it, those are my consequences.”

Her eyes opened, but barely.

Yoongi kept his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

“I… I feel like shit because now you’re stuck in my mistakes,” she breathed.

He liked to touch her hair. It felt comforting.

“You know what your problem is?”

She glared under lashes and dared him.

Undeterred, he continued. “You blame yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened.”

A disapproving frown. “Hah?”

He tapped her forehead. “You think it’ll bother me if you cry, but what truly bothers me is that you cry alone.” Pushed back the strands, and now he was closer, sharing breath. “You think I’m stuck in your mistakes. Mistakes don’t inherently have only negative consequences. They almost always exist in a gray area.”

“I... I know that,” she grumbled, face against his chest.

“I did say you were clever.”

A drifting, drowsy silence.

“I’m not clever,” she whispered to his skin, pulling her body closer. “I just like you.”

Yoongi felt himself losing to sleep.

“I’ve always liked you, since the moment I saw you,” he muttered into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he said it at all.

“Ah? Yes? Sorry about that. Oh, yes, uh, I’m painting. Everything. Yes, I’ll be sure the keep the windows open. Thank you.”

You closed the front door of the condo. Well. You had expected nervousness, but somehow the conversation between you and the downstairs neighbor had been very calm. Apparently, he worked from home and wasn’t expecting the loud crash of the ladder from your unit.

In your defense, you hadn’t expected it either.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been on the ladder, only trying to figure out how to set it up. It was one of those compact ones that saved space but required some innovative thinking to get the taller height you needed. One crash and a YouTube video later, the ladder was now secure, and then came the knock on the front door.

The thoughts flew by – I don’t belong here, I can’t do this alone, they’re going to scold me and I haven’t even done the upper half yet – but the guy just seemed curious and confused. Didn’t even comment on your awkward outfit of navy boys’ basketball shorts and ill-fitted gray sports bra. Both on super sale. You were still wearing your bra because of the incorrect size, so the gray blob was bordering on ugly-ass tank top.

Look.

Some people had clothing they didn’t care about to paint in and some people had to dive in sale bins because they left behind most of their wardrobe and, with the clothes, their bad memories.

That was the intent.

Things rarely go as intended.

For instance, you thought you were going to feel imposter syndrome for a neighbor knowing that you were painting your own goddamn walls. You turned away from the door after you locked it, frowning. That’s right. Like it or not, bad decisions and minus an ex-boyfriend later, these were your walls. You looked up, out the large, floor-to-ceiling living room windows, and saw the sunlight sparkle over the sprawling city, walls painted half-black and half white surrounding you, and you could say that you never wanted to be here, but.

It was a sick view.

We own this condo. Paint it.

Your muscles were sore from the repeated swiping motion of the paint roller, but there was still this inexplicable energy coursing through you.

“What if it doesn’t look good?” you had asked Yoongi.

He had shrugged. “Then we paint it again.”

“It’ll be dark.”

“Wow, really? I thought black was supposed to be bright and cheerful,” was the sarcastic quip. “Just believe you have good taste and paint the damn walls.”

This condo was an investment that made you poor.

That was the truth you needed to face.

You have good taste.

You scrunched your face slightly as you remembered Yoongi’s facial expression. Was he… praising you or himself? You squinted. This guy. Picked up the paint roller again and saturated it with ink black, making crispy crinkly sounds as you shuffled over the plastic. Good taste. Well, that was relative, wasn’t it? Everything was at the end of the day. You climbed onto the ladder and began the repetitive, monotone motion once more but at a higher elevation. You should have put your music back on. Your phone was on the plastic-covered mattress and you were not about to go back down until you finished this section or ran out of paint. This was going to be a long process, but you had several days and too much time as Yoongi had already left to visit his family.

Now you were alone with a lot of paint and mind-numbing fumes.

Shit, you should have opened the window.

You would have to paint a second coat anyway. Who cared if the first coat was shitty?

Sigh.

Climbing down and doing your due diligence before returning to your post.

You had forgotten once again to put your music back on. Hah. Well, that was fine; you had yourself. You didn’t mind being alone. Heh, sometimes it was better to be alone. You continued rolling away, hardworking in the consistent rhythm. Thinking about it now, this might have been the first time in a long time that you were okay with being alone. Before, you had felt guilty whenever you weren’t thinking about your relationship. Huh. Odd. Was it some kind of mental self-reassurance when you knew something was off? It was hard to tell, but possible.

Everything was off about that relationship. You just had too much pride to admit it.

You sighed, climbing back down to reload.

Wait a second. Was this why there was that wider step towards the top of the ladder? You poured some more paint in the tray and carried it up with you. Oh shit. Wow. Innovation. You coughed and went back to a different patch of wall. No one saw that. See, perks of being alone.

Well, you didn’t hate Yoongi being here.

You stopped painting.

You didn’t just think that.

You went back to painting. Shut up, nagging feeling. You furiously painted on, ignoring your soreness, telling that little voice in your head to shut up, because there were plenty of reasons not to think stuff like that. Firstly, you weren’t ready to think stuff like that. And what if it was only hopeful transference rather than genuine feeling? Asshole or not, your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal of trust was not something so easily overcome. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi either, pretending to like him if you weren’t sure.

You liked Yoongi before you broke up, too.

Wasn’t that fucked up?

You sighed and came back down, careful to scoot the ladder without spilling and causing a mess. Back up and at it. Of course, it was fucked up. And you knew it was, which might have been why you let it get that bad. Might? Was why you let it get that bad. Two hypocrites were meant for each other. You huffed, puffing your cheeks. It wasn’t enough to hold the ticking grenade; you had needed confirmation it was a, in fact, a bomb.

Maybe even hoping it would end you.

It didn’t.

For some reason, you thought Yoongi could see that in you.

Damn, he’s really living in your system, hm?

You frowned.

Your phone rang.

You almost jumped, startled at the sudden sound of an old song you used to enjoy. Back when you were a teenager, and the memories came back as you climbed down. A kid who just really liked rock’n’roll, and parents who did not, but that kid didn’t care, annoyingly setting it as her ringtone on her shitty flip phone. Couldn’t you be her again? Before you had time to ponder, you checked your hands for paint and picked up your phone, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Did you eat?”

You blinked, sitting down on the crinkly plastic upon hearing that deep, raspy voice. “Uh, no. I was gonna stop by the convenience store when the first coat was done.”

“No, you weren’t. You were gonna skip a meal,” Min Yoongi tutted. “Because you don’t want to be a nuisance and use the money I had left you.”

Damn. He knew you, all right.

“If I forget, I forget,” you grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, pick up the food order from the front desk when it comes. They told me about thirty minutes.”

“You don’t have to order food for me. I’m not a kid,” you hissed.

“It’s the pho spot you like and if I don’t put food in front of you, you won’t eat. You intend to do all that hard work without some fuel?” A pause. You made a disapproving noise. “And I know you’re not a kid. By the way, what’s your waist measurement?”

You remained a grump. “Why?”

“I’m here, so I’m going to buy you some clothes.”

“Don’t buy me clothes. Don’t spend money–”

“You need things,” Yoongi cut you off. “Unless you want to come with me? You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it and you know it,” you snapped back. “It’s not worth–”

“Of course, it isn’t. It’s vain and silly and superficial. And I’m still going to buy you things, so tell me your waist measurement.”

“Yoongi, this is your hard-earned money,” you puffed out, exasperated.

“Yeah, and I make money to provide you with a good life because I think you are the most important person to me. So, do you want me to guess with my hands or are you going to meet me halfway?”

Dead silence.

He called your name, softly.

You told him in centimeters.

“Got it. Don’t forget to check the front desk in thirty minutes.”

“I love you.”

His hair was stuck to his face due to sweat. “What?”

“I said I love you,” she said, staring right at him, their chests shuddering from exertion.

Yoongi couldn’t believe it, but also he wasn’t surprised. The room still smelled faintly like paint. The windows still had no curtains or blinds. They were still fucking on the mattress in the center of the living room and he was holding the used condom when she said I love you.

The walls and ceiling were all black, covering them in darkness as the city below glimmered with light.

“I love you,” was his reply.

It startled him, the suddenness of his response. He knew he did. Of course, he did, and he turned away quickly, making his way to the kitchen and throwing away the condom, skin tingling, cheeks aflame, and he was startled by the feeling that remained. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of her mouth even though he was sure of his own feelings. Yoongi had resigned himself to not hear it from her lips. He also didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.

He saw her head to the bathroom.

Time was funny sometimes.

Suddenly they were both staring at each other on the mattress, the usual ritual completed, and the moment suspended.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he finally said. “For my sake.”

“I didn’t.” Her hair curled over her shoulder, caressing her curves. “I said it for my sake.”

Blankets and pillows and questions.

“I wondered about the validity of it,” she admitted to him. “Been wrong before and all that. Might still be wrong. So, I said it just to see if I regretted it.”

“Ah.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

He half-smiled. How very simple yet complicated. He understood. “All the paint fumes really got to your head, huh?”

She looked up at him and he realized with a start that she, too, was half-smiling.

He reached out, smoothing her hair.

“You have a pretty face, Yoongi,” she teased, eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it would be too cliché, you and me,” she continued and the tone was different now, softer and more serious. “I thought you would get tired.”

She meant, of me.

He had thought this was cliché too. Cliché didn’t mean worthless though. His hand fell, and rested over hers without a second thought. Warm and against the sheets. “If I felt that way, I would have stopped speaking to you long ago. You could take care of yourself too.” Not safely, but could. “Except for money.”

She smirked.

“So you’re saying I need a suga daddy.”

Yoongi twitched.

“Part of me wanted to sell the condo as soon as possible,” she went on, casually glossing over the comment. “But the realtor said it would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t have any buyers without a minimum of six months or a year. Too many superstitions. Part of me thought I should…”

She looked up to the ceiling.

It was a high-rise, after all.

“All the reasons to move here were his. More convenient, better opportunities, owning rather than renting for the investment… I believed in it, more than myself.”

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t because all those things had benefitted him already. He didn’t only agree to move in help her out. He was still a working music producer. But she didn’t seem to be saying it to condone him.

“I didn’t really think this place was mine until I painted the walls.”

Yoongi thought he should at least confess this part. “That’s why I told you to paint them.”

A small laugh. “You don’t like it, huh?”

“Don’t you remember the walls of the old studio were dark gray? That was my doing. I always resented the last place I rented because they didn’t let me paint the walls.”

“Ah… He painted over the gray.”

“I bet he did.”

They had fallen to the bed now, side by side.

“I didn’t think this would work out,” she breathed.

“I thought it might,” he hummed.

“Why?”

“You’re hot and clever and I wanted you from the first day I saw you.”

A warm chuckle. “Just like that?”

“Well, you had to give me a chance. Couldn’t make the first move due to the circumstances.”

“It was a convoluted and confusing one.”

“Eh, life’s unfair.”

“Your husband already paid.”

Your what?

“What?”

The cashier waved you away. You shuffled back, dazed, seeing Min Yoongi emerge from the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, tucking a bit of his long black hair behind his ears and finding you in front of him.

“The cashier just called you my husband,” you declared.

He shrugged.

“Surprise.”

You blinked at him.

Patrons chatted and laughed as if this was a normal day. The music was horrendous covers of cheesy 2000’s pop. It was very strange, but the pho was good and well-priced, which was why Yoongi and you came here often after his meetings with music companies. Popular talent was in high demand.

He ticked his head to your outfit. “I know you like this dress I bought you, but you’ve left your coat at the table.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You’ve been scatterbrained ever since you started writing again.”

“Shut up.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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feminetomboy · 1 year

Text

Sorry to ramble, but as a person who deeply loves other human beings, living in college dorms fills me with indescribable joy. Everywhere I look, everything I hear--it's a proof that someone is alive and, well, living around me.

I'm lying in my bed and I hear footsteps of my neighbours, I hear someone taking a shower in the communal bathrooms, I hear the sound of water and dishes being washed in the kitchen.

One of my neighbours is an opera singer--she practices in the mornings and in the afternoons. Sometimes in the halls, sometimes as she cooks, and one time I caught her practicing in the bathroom as she was doing her laundry.

A fair amount of people on my floor play an acoustic guitar, one person plays a ukulele. Usually in the evenings, but it's not uncommon to hear a guitar and singing late into the night. And I also know there's one guy below me with an electric guitar, because I hear the most amazing music whenever I happen to walk by.

Several people on my floor paint. Their paintings hang to dry in the halls. I always stop by to see what new they've drawn.

At least once a week, someone burns something in our shared kitchen. I don't even mind the smell of the smoke anymore, it's just funny at this point.

I wonder if other people perceive me like this. If they can hear me sing along to songs as I draw, or if they stop by my door to see what stickers I've put up this time.

#positivity #college #rambles rambles rambles

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year

Text

Busker Eddie who always sets up right outside The Harrington and Son Law Firm because the overhang of the tall building gives him the best acoustics, and it’s right across from the subway line.

Sure he has to deal with Mr. Harrington calling the police on him for soliciting every time he shows up. But the tips he makes are worth it. Plus, he’s managed to win over the chief of police Hopper, who never writes Eddie up. He thinks it’s because Hopper has some kind of feud with Harrington, but he doesn’t ask. It’s better not to get involved.

Eddie’s busking his heart out one day. Giving his all to a small group of tourists gathered around him when a Young Suit marches over to him. Fights his way through the tourists, gets his hands on Eddie’s shirt, and yanks him away from the crowd.

The Young Suit is dressed like all the other suits who sneer at Eddie as they head into the building every afternoon. But this Young Suit doesn't look anything like the rest of them. His hair is fluffy and styled to perfection, nothing like the clean-shaven and buzzed heads Eddie's used to. His walk is a little less polished, dress shoes a size too big on his feet, Eddie guesses. But it's his eyes that really give him away. They're not dark and dead like every other suit who sold their soul to the devil. There's a glimmer of life behind this guy's eyes, enough that Eddie doesn't immediately start his rant about how lawyers are the devil reincarnated.

He still gives him shit though.

"What the fuck man?"

"Look, I don't want to do this," Young Suit says, running a hand through his hair. "But my dad's ready to throw the fax machine out the window if you don't leave so can you please find somewhere else to busk?"

Dad, huh?

Eddie can work with that.

"Ah, so you're the son in Harrington and Son's Law Firm," Eddie says, a salacious grin appearing on his face. "Sorry, Harrington Jr., but no can do. This is my spot. Tell daddy I have the license to prove it."

Harrington Jr. sighs dramatically before his hands land on his hips. He looks like an exasperated soccer mom.

A cute exasperated soccer mom.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Could you at least change the days you're here then?" Harrington Jr. asks. "My asshole dad never works on Mondays and Tuesdays. If you busk those days, I'll make sure no one calls the cops on you."

"Like I said, no can do," Eddie says, casually. "I make most of my rent money on Thursdays and Fridays. Daddy dearest will have to deal with it."

"Don't do it for him, do it for me."

"And why would I do anything for you?" Eddie asks, caught off guard for the first time in a long time.

Harrington Jr. gets a wicked look in his eyes. Lips twitching upward in a smirk that has Eddie's knees seconds away from buckling.

"Because I actually like your voice and want to hear more of it without my dad screaming and threatening violence in the background," he says, laying the compliment on thick. "I can also make it worth your while."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"I have a friend who works at the club on 9th. One phone call and you can be performing on a real stage for people who don't smell like stale subway air. You're too good to be performing on street corners."

The offer is tempting, it is. But Eddie can hear his uncle's nagging voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him not to take offers from strangers, especially not pretty ones who can't be trusted.

"Tell you what, Harrington Jr." Eddie flirts. "I'll think about it, while I finish my set. Till then, I'm not leaving. "

"Better keep watch for flying fax machines then," Harrington Jr. sighs again, finally dropping his hands from his hips. He turns to go back inside but stops abruptly, digging in the pockets of his pants before pulling a thick wallet out. He leafs through it before tossing an impressive stack of bills in Eddie's open guitar case.

Eddie waits for him to say something else, but he never does. Just stuffs the wallet back in his pocket and drags himself back inside the building.

When Eddie's sure Harrington Jr. is back inside, he kneels down to inspect his earnings. He nearly passes out when he spots three crisp hundred dollars bills lying under a business card that reads:

Steve Harrington Associate Lawyer Harrington and Son Law Firm 646-442-8422

Well played, Eddie thinks as he pockets the business card with Steve's number. Well played, indeed.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #busker eddie #lawyer steve #are those tags? they are now lol #dani writes

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forays-into-fiction · 2 years

Text

Why Don’t You Put on a Show

This is a fic for anon who sent in this request, I hope it lives up to your expectations and it’s at least somewhat what you were after. I know next to nothing about Playboy so I’m pulling most of this out of my ass lol

Part 2: When It Rains, It Pours

Minors DNI

Contains: Rockstar!Eddie x Reader, All smut right at the end, Protective!Eddie, Honorifics/ Petnames (Sir, Babe, Baby, Sweetheart, Princess), Dry Humping, Strip Tease, Oral fixation, Slight Dom!Eddie/Sub!Reader, Slight Degradation/Name-calling (Slut), Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Some Aftercare

You had been relaxing with Eddie in a moment of downtime, he was sat on the couch strumming away on his acoustic guitar working on something new for Corroded Coffin. You were curled up with a book, glancing at him every so often admiring his look of concentration, his little tongue poking out between his lips. The moment is interrupted by the phone ringing and you move to answer it.

“Ok, yeah. Thank you. Bye.” You hang up the receiver in the cradle a little shellshocked.

“Who was that, sweetheart?” Eddie pauses his strumming to ask, looking over to you.

“So… uh… I just got a call from someone at Playboy. They want me for a photoshoot.” You explain numbly.

“What?!” He exclaims incredulously.

You rush to assuage any of his concerns, “They’ve said it will be very tasteful, nothing to worry about. And we’ll be doing an interview too, you could… you could come with me for support.”

“No, I won’t let you.” He says firmly.

You cross you arms over your chest, tensing at his response, “Let me. Let me, hmm…it’s not up to you to let me or not. I am my own person and I am sick and tired of all the rumours people keep spreading about me… about us.”

“I’m just trying to protect you, y/n. You don’t know what it’s like doing these interviews. They pick apart every word you say, twist it around so it means something else entirely. I don’t want you to have to go through that, people aren’t entitled to you, or us… or… or…”

You soften at his tone, moving to sit beside him on the couch, rubbing his arm, “I know, babe, but maybe this’ll help satiate everyone’s curiosity, maybe it’ll die down after this.”

“I just don’t want you getting involved in something that could hurt you, there are people out there that can be so nasty. You know how people were to me before all of this, I don’t want anything like that falling back on you.”

You grasp his hands between your own looking into his eyes deeply, “People already say some shitty stuff about me babe, I know. I can ignore it, what’s some random person on the street matter? I’ll be ok, I want to do this.”

“You’re sure? There’s no talking you out of it?” He persists.

“Yep, I’m sure, I’m gonna do this interview. Really stake my claim on you, shout it out to the world ‘I love Eddie Munson’ and maybe that’ll finally shut everyone up.”

The two of you stand before the sprawling mansion, “It’s very ‘Gothic-Tudor’.” You muse, staring up at the impressive detailing.

Eddie wraps an arm around you drawing you closer and pressing a kiss to your neck, “You wanna live in a place like this one day?”

“Oh, god no what would we do in a place this big?”

He smirks devilishly, “I think you know what we’d be doing in a place like this…” he wiggles his brows at you suggestively before continuing, “…sex, I mean sex.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Obviously you mean sex Eds. When are you ever not horny? Jesus.”

“Jesus ain’t got nothing to do with it babe, I may have the hair but that’s about it.”

You give his shoulder a shove, “Oh, ha ha real funny guy you are. Come on let’s head in.”

He grabs your wrist as you turn towards the door, tone shifting more seriously, “You sure you’re ready for this? No going back once everything is out there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” You assure him.

“Alright then, let’s go.” He gives a sweeping gesture, indicating for you to proceed and follows along behind you.

The man who greets you at the door introduces himself as Lawrence, he’ll be the one conducting the interview. As you step into the great hall, you can see straight through to the terrace on the other side and the backyard beyond, to your left there’s an ornate double staircase, chandelier dangling from the ceiling before it. You are led through an archway to a living room, you take in the art on the wood-panelled walls before taking a seat with Eddie on the three-seater couch.

“Ok, so the way we’re going to do this is, Mario is going to take y/n for her photoshoot.” Lawrence gestures to the man who has just entered the room.

“Now y/n is definitely the focus of this issue, but we were hoping we could get a few questions in with Eddie over here, while we have him.” He turns gesturing to your boyfriend.

“Once the photos are all done, y/n can join us for her interview. How does that sound?” He glances between the pair of you waiting for a response.

You’re a little nervous, shifting uncomfortably, you thought you’d be able to have Eddie there while the photos were being done. He gives your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before answering for the pair of you, “It’s not exactly what we expected, but yeah that’s fine, right, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll be ok.” You say more to him than the interviewer.

“Great! That’s perfect.” Lawrence claps his hands together and Mario motions for you to follow him, you drop Eddie’s hand a little reluctantly and rise from the couch.

You’re led to a bedroom that’s been decked out for the photoshoot, lighting, those white reflectors, a backdrop screen, camera positioned on a tripod, the works. A team of people stands waiting with a rack of risqué outfits, another waiting to do your makeup, you’re feeling a little overwhelmed but they guide you through explaining, “You have a very mysterious image and we want to bring that out with these photos. How do you feel about…”

The whole process passes by in a whirlwind, you feel like you’re barely absorbing anything they say, just reacting. Before you know it you’re slipping back into your own clothing and heading back to the living room.

When you are reunited with Eddie, he moves to stand beside you pressing a kiss to your cheek, “How was it babe?”

“Uh… it was good, I think. It all went by so quick, I’m not sure I even had time to take it all in.”

He rubs your shoulder, “That’s ok, you ready for the interview now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He leads you back to the couch, Lawrence grins at you and you give him a small smile back, before beginning hesitantly, “I… um, I’m not really sure how this is supposed to go. I’ve never done one of these before.”

“Just answer the questions, be yourselves and have fun… I’ll take it from there.” He replies, that doesn’t sound too bad you think to yourself.

“Ok, y/n how do you think you’re handling your new found fame along with your boyfriend’s rocket to stardom?”

“It has been kind of a wild ride. I don’t really know why anyone is interested in me. I mean he’s the rockstar… I’m just like his little groupie, like I don’t really have anything to do with the band.”

Eddie interrupts to add, “Oh, sweetheart you are so much more than that, I don’t know what I’d do without you… without all your support and love throughout all of this.”

He turns to Lawrence, “You know, back when we were only performing at that little dive bar just outside of Hawkins. To no one mind you, but a handful of sloppy drunks with nothing better to do. She was out there putting together posters and making shirts and singing our praises to anyone that’d listen. She was our number one fan from day one. Well, that was after I finally convinced her to come see us play.” He chuckles.

You feel yourself beginning to flush with embarrassment, “Oh shush, that makes me sound so bad… so desperate.”

“No, it doesn’t, I think it’s cute.” Eddie says, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Yes, very cute…” Lawrence mumbles offhandedly scribbling away in a notebook. “Do you have a favourite Corroded Coffin song, y/n?”

“Oh, that’s a hard one…” you giggle, “I love all their songs really, but a favourite… hmmm, I’d have to say it was the one Eddie dedicated to me on their first album.”

He scribbles a little more before looking up, “So, everyone is dying to know, how did you two meet? How did all of this start?”

“We, uh… we actually met in high school. Started dating our senior year,” you look to Eddie for support and he nods, squeezing your hand in his breifly, “Eddie had to repeat his final year a couple of times and I became his tutor and friend at first. I know a lot of people thought he was dumb because of that but that is so not true, he is soooo smart, just has a little trouble concentrating sometimes.”

They let you continue rambling, “And he is so talented, I mean clearly… but I remember one time we were sitting in his bedroom, he was sat on his bed strumming on his guitar along to a song he put on the radio. He’d said it was some new song by Metallica he was trying to learn. His hair was gathered up all low, messy in a hair tie, a pencil tucked behind his ear. Every now and then he’d pause the cassette, to make some notes in the book beside him, his tongue poking out between his teeth. I just couldn’t look away, I remember thinking ‘how could someone be this pretty’.” You sigh and look up at him.

Eddie gapes at you, “Babe, that was way before we even started dating, I had no idea.” He chuckles then continues in a teasing, singsong voice, “You had a crush on meeee, that’s embarrassing for you.”

You slap him playfully, “Oh, shut up we are literally dating it’s not like you didn’t have a crush on me… and you’re the one that admitted it first so ha.”

You poke your tongue out at him and he does the same.

“Awww, you were high school sweethearts that’s so precious.” The interviewer responds in a patronising tone. “Do you think you guys will last? How do you handle all these women throwing themselves at your man?”

You feel a heat rising in your cheeks, tensing at the question. You ball your hands into fists trying to control the emotions that threaten to overwhelm you, he’s definitely hit a sore spot for you, one of your biggest insecurities. Eddie places his hand over yours rubbing gently before springing to your defence.

“That was a very rude question, how dare you imply I would cheat or leave the love of my life for some stupid hookup. I love my fans, don’t get me wrong, but that is never happening.”

The interviewer presses on, “Yes, of course, but we want to know how she feels. It must be hard even-”

Eddie cuts him off firmly, “No. If you continue with this question we are leaving.”

Lawrence throws his hands up in defeat, “Ok. Ok, I’ll stop. So, how do you think your relationship affects the band?”

The next question does little to brighten Eddie’s sour mood, but he answers, “Well, I for one think it’s great. She gives us all so much support, she inspires me and I think that is great for the band. They all love her too, she’s like family to them.”

Lawrence turns to you, “And how do you feel about it, y/n?”

“I don’t know I’ve never really thought about it, I just… I guess I just want whatever’s best for them, whatever that entails. I am so proud of all of them and all their hard work, it’s really paying off for them.” You answer honestly, if a little shakily.

“So, you’re not worried about having a Yoko situation?” He presses.

“What? No, why would I be worried about that? I would never do anything to interfere with the band.” You answer slightly taken aback.

“What’s he mean, babe?” Eddie whispers in your ear, a little confused.

“He’s talking about Yoko Ono and John Lennon, people say that she’s the reason The Beatles broke up.”

“Ok, man what the fuck?” Eddie jumps to his feet, “Are you really that desperate for some scandal, some little juicy tidbit that isn’t even true? Why can’t this just be about us, who we really are? You know either way the issue is gonna sell. No one cares about the shit that you write anyway.”

“Then why are you here?” Lawrence counters.

“Because she thought… you know what never-mind we’re leaving.” He grabs your wrist pulling you from the couch and stomping away.

“You know what they say, any publicity is good publicity…” Lawrence shouts after your retreating forms. Eddie pays him no attention dragging you out of the mansion.

You’re speechless for a moment but when you get back out to the front door as it slams shut you tug on his arm bringing him to a halt.

“Eds, what if… what if they don’t run the issue? What if all of that was just for nothing?”

“That ass will probably find a way to work our little storm out into it, spin it like we’re the bad guys. Or maybe he’ll just make up some other lies it doesn’t matter to them really as long as they get their cut.” He scoffs.

“Come on let’s get back to our room.” He huffs out.

You spend the rest of the trip back to your hotel in silence, Eddie quietly fuming, you sitting there numbly.

He opens the door to your room ushering you in and closing the door behind him, turning to face you and sighing, “How’re you doing?”

The floodgates burst and tears stream down your cheeks, he pulls you into his arms and you blubber into his chest, “He was so mean… I di-didn’t think it would be like that… so confrontational…so demeaning…”

He rubs soothing circles into your back, pressing kisses into the top of your head, “I know. I know, it’s ok. Don’t pay any attention to what that idiot said. I love you. I’ll never leave you. You are the best thing in my life.”

“Y-you promise?” You ask shakily, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Oh, sweetheart of course I do. And you know me man of honour, man of my word.” He jokes.

You giggle, breaking out into a watery smile, “How do you do it Eds? Why do you do it?”

“The interviews, the publicity? It’s hard, but I love the music more and that feeling of stepping out onto a stage and performing… it’s exhilarating. It’s also good to have people looking at me like I’m not just some loser freak-”

“Hey, what have I said about calling yourself that?” You admonish him.

He waves a hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah. But the rest that’s the price I gotta pay and I hate that I gotta drag you into that. Tried so hard to keep you away from that part of my life.” He sighs heavily.

You lean back into his chest and he rests his head on top of yours, you mumble into him “I wouldn’t trade it for the world, you know? I love you, Eddie. I have always loved you. I hope you know I’m here for you when this stuff does get bad.”

“I know, it’s good to hear it though.” He sighs.

“Guess what came in the mail today…” He waves an envelope in your face as you step through the door.

“Uhh… I don’t know were we expecting anything?” You hum searching your memory for some clue.

He pulls out a glossy magazine and you see your own image staring back at you, along with the words ‘Inside the lives of rockstar Eddie Munson and his Mystery Girl’. You cringe, “Oh god! That’s out now? How bad is it?”

“Nah, not yet. We got an advanced copy, didn’t bother reading that stupid article, who gives a shit what that asshole has to say about us…” He lets out a low groan, “…but babe I looked through it and God damn is it sexy. Those photos of you, so hot I almost couldn’t wait ‘til you got home.”

“What do you mean, I wasn’t even doing anything in those photos… you definitely have more racy photos of me than that.”

“Yeah, but you’re in Playboy that’s really fucking hot, my girlfriend’s a model.” He grins at you broadly.

You giggle, smiling back bashfully, “Shut up!”

He pounces on you, kissing you fervently, groping at your ass.

“How about we take this to the bedroom?” He grinds his hard length up into your clothed core and you whine nodding your head against him.

He leads you to your bedroom, you don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning from ear to ear.

He sits on the bed grabbing your hips and pulling you to stand between his spread thighs. You lean into him and tilt his head back, pulling him into another kiss, your hands fisting into his curls. His tongue slides over yours insistently as he reaches around you, kneading the swell of your ass between both hands, you feel the hard press of the rings around his fingers. The two of you break apart gasping for breath, he’s pulling you to sit, straddling his lap. You move to steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders, but he grabs your wrists holding them crossed behind your back. He uses the leverage he has over you to pull you against him, conveniently dragging your mound over his persistent erection. Repeating this action over and over as your head falls against his, your eyes flutter closed as you moan breathily.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” He teases.

You hum with a nod, “Mmhm… so good.”

He chuckles at your response, “It’ll be even better once we get rid of these clothes.”

With the grip on your arms, he pulls you further down his legs til you’re just resting on his knees. You whine and open your eyes to look into his, his dark pupils encapsulating majority of his irises.

“How ‘bout you put on a show for me? Just like in that magazine.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. If I got the real thing in front of me, why would I bother with anything else?”

“O-ok…” he lets you pull away from his grip, sliding off his lap, “…wait here a minute.”

You disappear into your closet, re-emerging shortly with something clasped in your hands.

Eddie leans back on the bed, resting on his elbows as he watches you curiously, “What’s that you got there, princess?”

“You’ll see.” You reply evasively, making your way over to your vanity. You slip a cassette into the radio on the vanity, pushing some buttons…

♫Step inside

Walk this way

You and me babe

Hey hey♫

You turn back around to face him and he laughs bodily, “Oh babe, you had that queued up perfectly, if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said you planned this.”

You give him a sly smirk, “Maybe I did plan this… well not exactly like this, but you know… I had it on standby.”

“Oh, so my dirty little girl wants to strip for me… interesting, well go on the song’s not gonna last forever.” He smirks back devilishly.

You sway your hips to the music, running your hands over your body, slowly moving towards him. You strip off your clothing piece by piece, teasingly, seductively. You move to straddle him once again, now only clothed in a matching black lacy bra and panties set adorned with little pink bows, one nestled between your cleavage the other at the middle of the waistband.

“So, you weren’t planning anything today huh? What’s this then?” He hooks a finger into the waistband of your panties.

You pout back at him, “Just wanted to feel cute today, that’s all.”

His fingers move to toy with the bow positioned above your crotch, “Well, you are. Look at you all wrapped up, bows and all, just like a little present. And it’s all for me.”

You whine, dropping your forehead to rest against his nodding against him, mumbling, “Mhmm, all yours, baby.”

He pulls you into another heated kiss as you grind down against him, the music continues in the background, another song having started up. You tug on his shirt whining into his lips, he pulls away hooking a hand in the collar of his shirt slipping it over his head smoothly. You latch onto his neck kissing and sucking your way down his chest leaving red marks in your wake. When you get to his pants, you’re unbuckling his belt without hesitation as he looks down at you pupils blown wide and with a lopsided smirk. Just as you’re rolling down his boxers to follow along with his pants, he’s pulling you back up, “No time for that now.”

You pout at him, “Awww, but why?”

“’Cause if I don’t get my dick in that wet, little cunt of yours I might just explode. You can suck my dick some other time.”

“You promise?”

He huffs rolling his eyes “God yes, just get over here.”

He drags you onto the bed, flipping you over so that he’s hovering over you. He presses soft kisses into the swell of your breasts, his hands snaking around you to undo the clasp. He tosses the bra over his shoulder pausing to suckle at your nipple and nipping on it gently to your strung-out moans. “What… what happened… to… to ‘no time for that’.” You pant out as your hands twist into his curls.

“I’m getting there.” He mumbles grinning against your skin before continuing to trail teasing kisses towards the elastic of your panties. He grips the fabric between his teeth dragging it down your legs, before popping up proudly grinning with your panties still clamped between his teeth.

You snatch them away from him tossing them across the room, “Alright, that’s enough come on and fuck me already.”

“Ohoho, someone’s got bite. Settle, or you won’t get anything.” He reprimands you.

“Yes, sir.” You mumble back faintly, eyes downcast.

He presses you back into the mattress, drawing back down between your thighs with his head, “Just want a little taste, ok.”

He runs his tongue between your folds, collecting the slick that has gathered there, “Oh baby, you’re always sooo wet for me… so sweet too.”

He plunges his fingers into your heated core, you can hear his rings clink together at your entrance as he pumps them in and out slowly, they come away sticky with your juices.

“Wanna taste?” He presses his fingers to your lips, not waiting for an answer, “Come on suck on them, you wanted something to suck on, didn’t you?”

Your mouth falls open of its own accord, tongue darting out to lap at his fingers and he replicates his earlier actions, dragging his fingers in and out of your mouth. You whine around the digits, your tongue swirling around them as you imagine sucking on his cock.

“That’s it sweetheart… alright enough now.” He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you pout back at him.

“Don’t look at me like that… ok, maybe I’ll let you suck on them some more later.”

You grin at him with those words, humming in response, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes, but you know deep down he enjoys it just as much as you do.

Gripping his shaft at the base he drags the head along your folds briefly nudging at the bundle of nerves that sets you shivering in anticipation. You don’t have to wait too long before he’s plunging his length into your wet heat, your walls stretching easily to accommodate his size. He grinds into you firmly with a groan as his head falls forward, eyes fluttering closed and drawing your lips into his own in a burning kiss. You whine into his lips as the motion of his hips stimulates your clit even further, “Move, please.”

He pulls his hips back accommodating your request, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, “Like that?”

“God, yes… please… just like that.”

He chuckles darkly, repeating the motion a few more times before his hips slow into a steady roll.

“You know every guy in the world is gonna be jerking it to you when that magazine comes out.” He teases and your walls flutter around him, “Oh, you like that do you… thought you were my little slut-”

“Yes Eddie, I’m yours… only yours.” You gasp.

“Then why does the thought of other guys get you going so much hmmm?” He presses his thumb into your clit in lazy circles.

“Dunno…” you whine.

“That’s ok, I like it too… knowing that I have something everyone wants and it’s just mine… all for me… they can all dream, but this little pussy belongs to me.” He punctuates each sentence with another thrust. You’re tightening around him, lust coiling in your belly like a spring just waiting to release.

“You’re close, baby… I can feel it, the way you’re squeezing around me. You wanna cum?”

“Yes, please sir… need it…” He’s right, you are close, so close, you can feel little shocks of electricity emanating throughout your limbs. Right on the precipice, just need that little push.

He groans, “Love the way you beg for it, do it again.”

“Pleasepleaseplease sir… Please let me cum.” Your whines jumble together, tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it cum for me, baby.” He growls.

That’s all it takes for you to come apart on his cock, screaming his name and he’s following along right after you spilling his seed into you as your cunt grips him like a vice. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting heavily, you relish in the feeling of his weight pressing into you, pinning you to the mattress.

“God, I love you Eds.” You breathe out.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He mumbles in your ear.

You feel him shifting, about to roll over, but you wrap your arms around him keeping him in place.

He looks down at you curiously, “Can we just stay like this for a minute?” You sigh.

He brushes a hair out of your face, pressing a kiss to your temple gently, “Of course we can princess.”

You stay there until his cock is softening and slipping out of you, your combined releases dripping out between you onto the bed. He hums into your hair, “Come on, lets get cleaned up now.”

He’s pulling you off the bed gathering you up in his arms and carrying you into the ensuite.

He lets your feet fall to the ground and you lean against him as he begins running a bath, adjusting the temperature to suit and adding some bubble bath liquid. As you wait for it to fill, he rubs along your back soothingly, “Well, that was something wasn’t it, babe?”

“That was amazing Eds, always is with you.” You hum back.

The bath is mostly full and he helps you in, sliding in behind you, still leaving the tap running to fill even further. He scrubs a loofa over your body pausing as you lean forward to shut off the water. Then proceeds to wash your hair, massaging your scalp comfortingly. Once he’s finished his routine you return the favour, giving him the same treatment.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #request #anon #anon request #dom!eddie x sub!reader #protective!eddie

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abeautylives · 1 year

Text

Until This is Over

a/n: It’s cocky Jake. Of course it is.

word count: 10k+ I do not know when to shut up.

pairing: Jake x female!reader

summary: He’s used to getting what he wants, you couldn’t be less interested. A potential one night stand turns into... something else?

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, language, drinking, graphic sexual content, oral (f. receiving), fingering, protected penetrative sex (they’re responsible!), very light katoptronophilia (mirror kink), no other specific kinks I can think of but for sure a struggle for dominance, sorry if I missed anything!

update: read part 2 here

Jesus it’s hot in here.

Wait.

This is… not my room. Hmm, not my sheets, definitely not my pillow. This pillow is terrible. And who the fuck is… he?

Eyes barely cracked open, lids contending with the sunlight streaming in through an offensively large window, you turn your head slowly towards the sleeping figure beside you.

Well, he’s good-looking at least. Pretty, even. You continue to examine his resting features as you try to recall his name.

Jason? Jack. No… Jake? Jake! That’s right, he’d introduced himself as Jacob but said I could call him Jake, or “Sir”. Cocky shit.

Other memories return as you let your gaze wander over his naked? Yep, definitely naked, body. The sheets are pushed low across his hips as he slumbers on, laid flat on his back with a hand resting on his chest and the other raised up and nestled under his head. His dark hair is long and splayed out across his pillow.

Not my type at all.

You do remember meeting him last night. A local sort of up-and-coming bluesy band had been playing at your regular hangout. You hadn’t shown up for live music but found yourself watching, enjoying and swaying along with it as you sipped the remnants of your drink. A little zoned out in your own world, he’d interrupted an otherwise pleasant moment by leaning in close and speaking over the music.

“These guys are fantastic, don’t you think?”

Ugh. Not even a “hi, sorry to bother you”. You’d offered up only a tight-lipped smile and a nod of your head that you’d hoped expressed “please leave me alone.”

As you allow yourself to continue analyzing the man whose bed you’re currently occupying, you realize he’s the source of the unbearable heat that woke you. He clearly runs warm and you wonder how he can stand it. You want to throw the blanket off of your body but you've also realized that you too are completely nude. Ahh shit, how do I get out of here?

Shifting slowly, hoping he won’t even wake up, you sit up and grip the sheets to your chest as you scan the room for any sign of your clothes. You’re taking in a visual inventory of your jeans balled up on the floor next to the bed, your shirt flung across the top of the dresser, and your bra hanging around the neck of an acoustic guitar sitting in a stand in the corner. Great, he’s a musician… Where are my fucking underwear? You’re considering abandoning them, scooping up the rest of your items and bolting out of the bedroom door to the nearest room without him in it, when he stirs. You’re holding your breath as he starts to speak.

“Mm morning beautiful,” he almost croaks out, his voice heavy with sleep. “You running out on me already? What if I was a world-class chef and you missed out on the best breakfast of your life?”

Still a cocky shit. His morning voice is deep and unfortunately for you, kind of sexy.

“I have shit to do today, and I’m not convinced that I meant for this little sleepover to happen in the first place,” you lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. You’re free as a bird today, and you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t wanted to be, but you’re sure you’ve gotten whatever you felt you needed from him and it’s time to go. “Can you just like, roll over or something so I can grab all my shit? Where’s your bathroom?”

“Babe, I saw it all last night, what’s the prob-“

“Don’t call me ‘babe’.”

“Okayyyy, sorry Y/N,” he emphasizes your first name, because he apparently lives to annoy you. “You know, you didn’t mind it last night. You loved it, in fact. Practically melted into a puddle and did anything I asked when I called you-“

“Bullshit. I may have been a little drunk but I remember it just fine. What I’m not sure of is why I decided to fuck you.”

Last Night

“These guys are fantastic, don’t you think?”

Your non-verbal response did nothing to deter him.

“I heard they were playing here tonight and changed my plans, this isn’t one of my usual spots. My name’s Jacob, you can call me Jake. Or ‘Sir’…” he loudly rambled out an explanation and introduction you hadn’t asked for. The smug look on his face screams “the ladies love me, this shit works every time.” You hate it.

“Well Jake, this has been thoroughly riveting but I need another drink and at least twenty feet of space from you. Have a good one.” You catch the completely gobsmacked look on his face just before you turn away from him and saunter your way through the decent crowd of people and toward the bar. His eyes are still on you, you can feel them, so you add a sway to your hips as you walk.

To his credit, he does remain where you left him and watches you leave. For about six seconds.

Jake Kiszka is not one to pursue the affections of a beautiful woman. He doesn’t have to. They’re drawn to him like a lighthouse, a beacon calling weary sailors to shore. They need him, he is the destination. Tonight though, you had called to him like a siren. Standing alone, feeling the music, he’d felt an unexplainable urge to know you. He’s pissed that you turned his conversation down so easily. And so, he follows.

You could positively scream when he appears once again at your side. On a heavy sigh paired with a dramatic roll of your eyes, you spit out, “Can I help you?”

“Let me buy you a drink. What are you having?”

He’s serious. Turning your body to face him for the first time, you actually take in his appearance. He’s kind of short, definitely a tiny bit shorter than you in the chunky boots you’re wearing, his hair is long and rests over his shoulders that are covered by a black linen shirt being held closed by only two buttons fastened at his waist. A single silver pendant hangs on a necklace and rests on his bare chest. No, there’s no way he’s serious.

After scrutinizing his outfit choice you bring your eyes back up to his face. He is attractive, in almost a feminine way if not for the hair gracing his top lip. Oh his lips. They’re currently pursed at you in slight irritation, but the shape of them is intriguing. His cupid’s bow is defined, his mouth almost curls up at the corners. His bottom lip is full… it’s a nice mouth. The smirk that’s forming on it snaps you out of your reverie. How is he so full of himself?

“Are you going to leave me in peace if I accept a free drink?”

He has the audacity to chuckle, a raspy and pleasant sound that grates on your nerves anyway. “If you drink it with me, I’ll consider it. If that’s what you want.” He finds that he’s actually enjoying your resistance, it’s like a game that he’s never played but he’s interested in winning. Competitive and determined by nature, and fascinated with you by chance, he wants to see this through until the end.

This Morning

“What I’m not sure of is why I decided to fuck you.”

Jake laughs at you, a sort of deep rumbling sound still thick from sleep. “It took some convincing on my part, I don’t typically have to work so hard to get laid.” His eyelids are heavy as he looks up at you from his still reclined position against the pillows. “You’re kind of a hardass. Worth it though,” he’s wearing that smirk again. His confidence doesn’t waver under your glare and the smirk turns into a full fledged smile that almost takes your breath away. His teeth are straight and blindingly white, a little too close to perfect, and the way his lips curl up deeply is almost endearing.

He really is pretty.

“Hmm I’m so glad you had fun, cowboy. Can you close your eyes or something so I can get dressed? I’m two seconds away from pulling the sheets off of you for myself.”

“Go ahead, got nothing to hide. M’sure you wanna see me naked one last time before your Uber ride of shame.”

The back and forth is driving you crazy and not in a good way. Well, maybe a little bit good. You remember challenging him as much as you could the night before, and the way he let each jab roll off of him easily. He actually seemed to like it, taking your opposition to him in stride and pushing back a little harder each time you tried to shut him down.

Last Night

“So… what are we drinking?” He’s won this battle, or so he thinks. It seems like a free drink is a win for you, and the sooner you can suck it down the sooner he will leave your orbit.

“Vodka soda. With lime. Sir.” If you must be subjected to this moment with him, you may as well fuck with him. The nickname slides through your teeth with a thickly sarcastic emphasis. You’re making fun of him and his earlier attempt to grab your attention, which he picks up on but remains unaffected in the way you’d hoped. He likes it. A lot.

He moves to sit on the stool next to him, eyes motioning for you to do the same. Unbeknownst to you, he needs to sit to hide the evidence of the way you had affected him with your teasing. Your attitude is kind of turning him on, and the chase is giving him a rush. He’s having fun with it.

“A gorgeous woman with taste. Interesting.” He signals the bartender with his hand and orders two of the same. As your drinks are made, he looks a little too deeply into your eyes, making you shift in your seat in slight discomfort. Why is he so intense? “Are you going to tell me your name or do I have to force that out of you too?”

A laugh bubbles out of you as you realize how little you’ve really given him. He savors the sound of it, though it’s at his expense. “It’s Y/N, and you can call me Y/N and only Y/N until… whatever this is, is over.”

As far as he’s concerned, this is far from over and he’s sure he’ll be calling you any number of names before the night ends. Your drinks are placed in front of you and Jake nods his thanks to the bartender with a bright smile. You watch as her cheeks turn pink and she smiles back, flustered as she moves to the other end of the bar. It hits you, the realization that that is the reaction that he’s accustomed to. You’re suddenly sure that he’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. You’re not sure that you understand the appeal.

He notices how your eyes narrowed in the bartender’s direction, relishing the fact that you seem to despise the way she’d welcomed his brief attention. Wanted it. “No need to be jealous, Y/N. I don’t want her.”

You feel yourself sneer at him. “Can we get this over with? I’m bored, and entirely too sober.”

That same smile breaks across his face, this time directed at you. Your eyes roll again as you lift your drink to your lips, but he reaches a hand out to stop your movements, his fingers wrapping loosely around your wrist before you can take a sip. Oh hell no. Slowly, with a little effort and a lot of self control, you lower the drink to the bar top before moving your eyes from the hand still on your wrist, up to his face. He’s looking at you like he knows you want to hit him, and he loves it.

“Jake. Take your hand off-“

“Cheers?” He asks jovially, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. He does remove his hand to pick up his own drink and tips it slightly in your direction.

“Sure, whatever, cheers,” you mutter, completely over this entire interaction.

“To you, Y/N,” he continues again as if you’re not actively trying to make him hate you. “To the night, to a chance meeting, to fate-“

“EW, no, no thank you. Shut up and drink, Jake.” You bring your glass up again and take a long draw from your straw. There’s laughter in his eyes as he mimics your actions and drinks deeply. Determined to reach your goal of dismissing him, you keep sucking your straw and swallowing mouthfuls of the alcohol until you hear the sweet slurping sound that indicates your glass is empty. The two of you have maintained eye contact as you finished your drink and his eyes go wide as his lips release his own straw and hang open. Finally, he’s speechless. You’re pleased with yourself and with his reaction, the alcohol making you feel warm. The way he’s staring at you makes you warmer. No no no, now is not the time. His attention is suddenly desirable, and you’re irritated by the shift in your body’s own reaction to it.

A little breathless and very turned on, he doesn’t break eye contact as he speaks. “Doll, you are… really something.” He sets his drink down, still half full.

Reality slaps you in the face. “Do not call me that. Seriously.” Your defenses are up again. Why did he have to go and say that, when you were just considering being nice to him? You’ve gotta get away from this guy. “Ya know what, I have to pee. It was so great meeting you and all. Thanks for the drink. Please don’t be here when I get back.” You don’t have to pee, you’re giving him a chance to walk away from you without you having to watch him do it. Turning and hopping down from your stool, you refuse to let him reply and you move quickly toward the back of the room. If you had chanced a glance back in his direction, you would have seen that fucking smirk.

This Morning

“M’sure you wanna see me naked one last time before your Uber ride of shame.”

“OKAY, we’re done here. Thank you for what, I’m sure, was a delightful evening.” Throwing your legs over the side, you stand from the bed and pull the bedding off with you. An iron grip keeps a sheet wrapped tightly around your body as you begin to collect your clothes, gathering your jeans up and stepping toward the dresser for your shirt. A large mirror adorns the top of the dresser and in its reflection you catch sight of Jake, now sitting up against the headboard, unashamed of his nakedness. You watch for just a moment as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, and you allow your gaze to trail down the length of his body. His skin is tanned and glowing in the sunlight. Annoying. Your eyes keep moving, down his chest and past his stomach, which is slightly soft. You remember biting into it last night before you- okay keep it moving Y/N. Before you pull your eyes away from his reflection, you let them land on his dick.

It’s hard. Not fully, you can tell, but it definitely is.

“Like what you see?”

Shit. Your eyes snap to his face and meet his in the mirror. He wags his eyebrows at you.

“Hey…” he says softly. “Look at me?” He moves the leg closest to you, bending it at the knee and planting his foot on the mattress, hiding his semi-hard erection from view. You turn your body to look at him directly. “Don’t leave yet. Please?”

Last Night

With a snap decision, in an unprecedented move, Jake stands from his seat and walks swiftly in the direction you had just gone. He finds you in a back hallway, waiting behind another girl for the restroom to free up, looking down at your phone. He stops to study and appreciate your profile for a second, before moving in directly to your side and pushing you ahead of him down the short hall toward an emergency exit, one hand firmly on your back and the other gripping your upper arm.

“Jake what the fuck?!”

He doesn’t stop moving, reaching out to push the panic bar on the door and shoving you through it. Suddenly you’re both outside, the door slamming loudly behind him. You spin to face him and he plucks your phone from your hand and shoves it into his back pocket. He looks just as blindsided as you feel by the last thirty seconds.

“What. The actual. Fuck. Do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is dangerously low, you’re almost vibrating with rage. Dimly lit by a light perched high on the building above you, Jake can read it all over your face. He runs a hand over his before looking up and down the alley he’s maneuvered you both into.

“Look, Y/N I’m sorry about that. I really don’t know what I was thinking. I just… need to talk to you.”

“Are you gonna fucking murder me? What is this?” You can hear your volume rising, the look in his eyes is desperate and you don’t know him from Adam, don’t trust him for shit.

“God, no. No, I swear. Fuck.” He’s flustered now, thoughts jumbled, confidence lost. His next words are bouncing around his brain and he needs them to come out the way he wants. “Why don’t you want me?” God damnit. Smooth, idiot.

“You’re serious right now? You just manhandled me and pushed me into a bar alley because I DON’T WANT YOU? You’re ridiculous, I knew you were ridiculous from the moment you opened your arrogant mouth. And on top of that, you’re stupid! It almost worked, this little game you’ve been playing. I was this close to falling for it. The look on your pretty face when I finished my drink almost did it. Because you’d finally SHUT. UP.”

You’re out of breath when you finish, but anger has settled deep in your belly and it threatens to spark into a flame when his expression changes. It flips from distraught to sickeningly gratified right before your eyes.

“You think I have a pretty face.” It’s not a question. He heard what you said and he’s clinging to the words like a lifeline.

“You’re insufferable.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s manhandling you again. In an instant, his hands are balled into fists full of your t-shirt and you’re spun around. The cool bricks of the building are pressed into your back, and his entire body is pressed into your front. In the flurry of movement, you’ve brought your hands up to his chest. Nose to nose, he opens his mouth to speak again.

So quietly, you’re unsure if you even say it out loud, you cut him off. “No, shut up. Just do it.”

His lips are on yours immediately, so you know you must have spoken the words. They’re soft, as soft as they had looked under the bar lights, but they’re pressed so firmly to yours it almost hurts. You move your mouth against his to get him to ease up, and when he does kiss you properly you let out the tiniest hum of pleasure. When it hits his ears, he breaks away but stays close.

“Come back inside with me. Let me buy you another drink. Please,” he breathes out against your lips that are still tingling from his kiss.

“Fine.”

This Morning

“Don’t leave yet. Please?”

“Why?” You can’t help yourself. You’ve resisted him from the moment you met. With a sigh, you correct yourself. “Sorry, I just mean… what for? You wanna make me breakfast and play house? For what, Jake?”

“Jesus Y/N, give it a rest would you? Why don’t you get back in bed and let me fix your attitude.”

“Ah yes, I forgot how charming you are.”

“It worked last night,” he laughs when you scoff at him. “C’mon, I just want to get to know you better.”

“You don’t know me at all, pretty boy.”

“Not yet, doll. I’m trying though.”

Last Night

You allowed him to lead you back into the bar, though you did have to make your way around to the front and re-enter since the emergency exit door was locked from the outside. You also had to insist that he give your phone back, which he did but not before flashing it in front of your face to unlock it and rapidly entering his name and number into your contacts. Presumptuous of him. Once inside, you found your previous seats still empty and settled into them to order another round. “I need to catch up, never got to finish my last drink,” he looks at you pointedly, as if that was your fault.

Trying your hardest not to be combative, you simply smile at him innocently and keep your mouth shut.

One more drink turned to two, then into several. You found that he was a good conversationalist and didn’t talk endlessly about himself. He wanted to know about you, but you did learn a few things about him. He’s got two brothers and a sister, the former of which were actually seated in a booth on the other side of the bar. They’d all come to see the band you’d been enjoying earlier, though the set had long since been wrapped up. He’d sort of forgotten about the guys in his pursuit of you. Flattering, kind of. He pointed them out to you and your eyes found two men who both looked like him, in different ways. You briefly wonder if they’re also obnoxious egomaniacs. He mentions playing music but doesn’t go into detail, choosing instead to ask about your music tastes and paying close attention to your responses. You mention a band that he apparently is fond of, and he excitedly pulls out his phone to play one of their songs on the bar jukebox.

“Oh shit, I love this song Jake!” You’re feeling much more amiable after the drinks you’ve shared, and the sentence leaves your lips animatedly. He was enjoying your standoffish demeanor earlier, but he’s downright smitten with this version of you that he’s coaxed out.

“Dance with me!” You’re already off the stool and holding your hand out to him. Usually he’s not a dancer, but the alcohol and the subconscious pull to be near you have him grasping that hand and following you to the small dance floor without question. Upon hitting the floor though, he makes no move to dance, instead watching you happily bounce around. This is what drew him to you in the first place, the way you had been moving your body to the music earlier in the night, feeling it without a care for anyone or anything else in the room. He feels that draw now, and can’t resist pulling your body to his. You’re nose to nose again, his arms wrapped around you loosely, and you lift yours to wrap around the back of his neck. Swaying together, not dancing but barely shifting from side to side, you make the second move of the evening.

You place your lips gently against his at first, until you feel him tighten his hold on you. That’s all you need to encourage you to slip your tongue out and over his bottom lip, asking for more. He grants your wish and kisses you back with nearly unbridled enthusiasm for a lingering moment, until he hears whoops and whistles coming from the direction of the booth that contains his brothers.

Breaking apart with a shared laugh, you maintain your hold around his neck and keep him close. “Hey Jake…?”

“Yeah doll?” He lets the pet name slip and barely holds back a wince, thinking immediately that he’d fucked this up again.

The smile remains on your face however, and you bring yourself closer to him, to speak directly into his ear. “Do you wanna take me home?”

Um, fuck yes I do. “You wanna go home? I can call up a ride for you,” he starts, hoping he hasn’t misunderstood but giving you an out, if you want to take it.

“Noooo Jake, take me home.”

“Oh absolutely. Let me tell the guys real quick and settle up, we’ll be out of here in no time.” He steps away from you with a quick kiss to your forehead. That’s… sweet.

You stop by the restroom while he wraps things up with his brothers and the tab, and take a hard look at your face in the dingy mirror while you wash your hands. Your cheeks are a little flushed but the color looks good. You look happy. Do I like this guy? Maybe, I dunno. We’ll see. You dry your hands and decide you can at least let him show you a good time tonight, you’ll assess the rest in the morning.

“Ready to go Y/N? The car should be here in a minute,” Jake murmurs into your hair. You had returned to find him back at the bar, signing his receipt. He’d paid for all of your drinks, including the one you’d had before you met him. And the shot. And the chicken fingers. Okay, charmer. As soon as you’d sidled up next to him he’d wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close.

“Ready, sir.”

God I can’t wait to tear into her. “Very funny, babe.” He also exaggerates the pet name, hoping to bring back a little of the feisty attitude you’d had at the commencement of the night.

“Ew, don’t call me that,” you scold him, but you’re laughing. He likes this side of you. You’re still a hardass but he thinks you’re stunning when you’re laughing at him.

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

The ride to his home is tense but fortunately brief. Your fingertips are itching to touch the bare skin of his chest as you let your eyes roam his features. You haven’t paid a bit of attention to your route, not your smartest decision, but you’re feeling needy and a little frantic by the time you reach your destination.

Upon entering Jake’s house, he kicks his shoes off so you do the same. Maybe he’s weird about that. He leads you through to the kitchen, flipping a light on here and there along the way. The house is spacious, the kitchen is huge. You wonder what he does for work, but figure that’s not really your business. Not yet. Maybe never. Once he’s near the fridge he turns and asks if you’d like water or anything else to drink.

“No, thank you though. Jake?”

He doesn’t respond with words, simply raises his eyebrows in question and smiles warmly.

“Are you gonna take me to bed or like, give me the grand tour or some shit?”

Chuckling lowly, he makes his way around the island to where you’re still standing at the entrance of the room. He reaches one hand out to your waist and the other up to cup your jaw, bringing your eyes to his and your body close. Your hips are touching each other’s.

“You wanna fuck me, doll?”

This is the first time he’s asked, the first time he’s said something even mildly crude to you. Heat rushes to your face and blood rushes elsewhere. This is good, he’s managed to turn you on, points for him.

Your eyes drop and zero in on his lips. You’ve only barely gotten to taste them and you’re hungry for more. “Ya know what, I think I do.”

“Thank God,” is the last thing you hear before his mouth is on yours in a frenzy. His hands both find their way to your face then back into your hair, pulling you as close to him as you can be, his lips and tongue moving against yours feverishly. You need to relieve that itch to feel his skin, so you bring your hands to his chest and flatten your palms there, fingers spread out underneath his shirt. It’s not enough, you want to see him too, so you move your hands up and outward to push the fabric off of his shoulders and down his arms.

Breaking the kiss, he pulls away from you and yanks his arms the rest of the way out of the sleeves and quickly unfastens the two buttons keeping the material on his body. The shirt falls to the tile and you take in his completely bare torso, aside from that silver pendant. He’s built a little sturdier than you would have assumed, overall he’s a slight guy, small. Not the type of man who would have ever caught your eye, but he’s wormed his way into your brain and right now he’s taken over all of your senses. You let yourself touch, dragging the tips of your fingers down the center of his chest until you skirt them over his stomach and feel it flex, letting them land at the waist of his well-worn jeans. You ease them under the material there and pull him forward to you again.

Tucking your face into his neck, you let yourself breathe in his scent. His skin is musky and masculine whereas his hair is almost… floral? Surprising. The combination is heady and intoxicating.

Turning your head down, you let your lips land on his skin for the first time, in the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder. The kisses you leave are wet and slightly open-mouthed and when you pull away you lick the taste of him from your lips. Enjoying the sort of salty flavor, you lean back in and let your tongue drag over the same spot.

Now you hear him, a small sound leaves his mouth, a needy whine. It rings in your ears and you feel it shoot straight to your core. Oh we both liked that. You lick the spot again then nip it with your teeth. This time the sound you hear is almost a growl, it rumbles through his chest and up his throat, and when it pushes past his lips you’re positive you’re about to spontaneously combust right here in his kitchen.

He pushes you away from him now, and you meet his eyes. They’re dark, his pupils wide and almost completely consuming the warm brown you’ve grown used to. He runs them across your face, taking in the pretty pink tint on your cheeks and the way your lips are parted to allow you to suck deep breaths into your lungs. He moves them down to your chest that’s heaving with those breaths, then lower, to your thighs that are pressed together.

“You want me bad, don’t you babe?”

Yes, idiot. “If you don’t take me somewhere and fuck me right now, I’m leaving.”

He knows you’re bluffing, but he worked hard to get you here. Harder than he’s ever had to before, shit he’s never had to work to get in a girl's pants in his life. But he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone as bad as he wants you wrapped around him, underneath him, moaning for him and screaming his name. Knowing, hoping and praying actually, that you’ll follow, he just nods his head and walks past you and out of the room.

Huffing in frustration, sexual and otherwise, you do as he’d hoped and turn to follow him down a short hall to a staircase that he’s already ascending. You continue to move in sync with him, a few steps behind, until you reach a landing where he flips a light on. You literally crash into him at the top of the stairs when he stops in his tracks.

“What the fu-“

Your words are stopped in their tracks now as you’re pushed hard against the nearest wall. The first time he did this to you flashes through your mind and you remember it as the moment you gave in to him. You know you’re about to do it again, give him whatever he wants to take. I swear to God he better be a good lay.

He’s got his forearm laid across your chest, keeping you pinned in place while his other hand is fumbling with the button on your jeans. His hair has fallen over his face as he looks down to where he’s now pulling your zipper open and you can’t help but reach up to push it away and tuck it back behind his ear. You notice strands of it are stuck to his neck, perspiration already forming there. His tongue is poking out between his lips in concentration as he finally, finally, presses his palm to your stomach and slides it down over your underwear and cups your pussy. Pressing into you with his fingers, he slides them against the damp silk.

The feeling of your arousal against his fingertips, and the relieving pressure of them where you need them most, cause you both to moan out into the limited space between you. You can feel his dick pushed against your thigh, his hips move almost unnoticeably to create friction there.

“Jake, please.”

“Mm please what, doll?” He’s dropping pet names left and right since you got here, but realizes you’re accepting them now. “Tell me what you want. You want me to touch you here?”

He adds more pressure, this time directly to your clit over your underwear, and moves his fingers in a tight circle a couple of times.

“Fuck yes, please. Inside, want them inside me.”

He responds by pulling his hand away completely, only to immediately move it down your stomach again, this time with his fingers nudging the fabric so he can slip it into your panties. He cups you again, skin to skin, and the feeling is electrifying. The arm across your chest lowers but he keeps you there with his body, his hips now working himself against you with more purpose. The hand that’s not buried in your pants grips your face under your chin, completely wrapped around your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks. He waits a beat until your eyes meet his.

“Keep your eyes open and on me, okay sugar?” That name is new but he likes the taste of it in his mouth. The way you nod your head and comply tells him you might like it too.

“Good girl,” he whispers as he drags two fingers through your wetness and teases them over your clit again before rubbing light circles into it directly. He watches your eyelids flutter and eyes roll back as the sweetest sound he’s ever heard floats from your mouth to his ears. “Open and on me,” he repeats lowly. You do as he asks and snap your eyes open wide as he moves his fingers through you again. Asking silent permission with a raise of an eyebrow, he sees yours raise in response. With that, he plunges one inside you to the last knuckle.

You clench around him instantly, and he pumps it in and out of you slowly, examining your facial expression. It’s already a little blissed out with the relief of finally being touched by him. He keeps moving his hand against you, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your clit as his finger slips easily in, out, in.

“More,” you choke out, “please, more Jake.” You’ve got a death grip on his biceps, nails digging into his skin there, and you’re struggling to maintain the eye contact he’s demanded.

The cocky smirk that you really hadn’t missed at all has returned to his face. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Want everything your way, all the time.”

“Fuck you,” you mean to spit the words out into his face, but instead they come out on a gasp as he curls his finger deep inside you.

“We’re getting there babe, have some patience.” He fulfills your request for more by pulling his finger from your cunt completely then pushing back into you with two, tucking them as far inside you as his hand will allow and curling them both forward.

“Yes yes, like that, just like that,” your hips have started moving of their own volition, rocking against his hand as his fingers bring you closer and closer to the edge you’re searching for.

Your eyes have squeezed shut as you chase your orgasm, but Jake uses the grip he still holds on your jaw to regain your attention. He shakes your head from side to side one quick time. “Eyes, doll. Open them. Look at me when you cum.”

“I will, I will, I’m close. Don’t stop.”

“Keep fucking yourself on my fingers. Cum for me Y/N. I need it, cum for me,” he’s demanding, or begging, you’re not sure but either way, it’s working. He presses the heel of his palm harder against your clit and your hips writhe, almost violently, pushing back like you’re fighting each other for your release. Suddenly, it snaps.

“FUCK Jaaaake, oh God!”

You do your best to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you’re cumming so hard on his hand that every part of your body has tensed, your cunt is squeezing his fingers tight but he doesn’t stop moving them. He slows his motions as you ride it out, and watches your face as curses and his name keep spilling from your lips.

That might be his new favorite song.

When your orgasm melts away from you, you release Jake’s arms and slump back against the wall. He’s dropped his hold on your face and brings that hand to hold you up at the waist.

His other hand is still hidden away down the front of your jeans, but he’s stopped moving it and eases his fingers from you slowly. As you work to regulate your breathing, he pulls his hand out of your pants and holds it up between your faces.

Smug bastard. The look on his face is infuriating but you just had one of the better orgasms you can remember in recent history, so you let it slide.

“That was pretty good,”

Nope, he’s still insufferable.

“But I think we can do better.” His fingers, still held in view, are shining in the light from overhead, clear evidence of just how good that had been for you. He slips them past his pompous lips and sucks hard, pulling them from his mouth with a pop.

“Huh. Who would’ve thought you’d be so sweet, with such a nasty attitude.” Your eyes roll so far back you think you know what your brain looks like. “C’mere, have a taste.”

He leans in and kisses you softly, affectionately, and you open your lips to him. When his tongue hits yours, you do faintly taste yourself on it and you find that you enjoy the flavor of yourself mixed with the flavor of him, his last drink and something else that’s really just him. He’s enjoying it too, his dick is rock hard and he’s moving his hips against yours again. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

“You gonna let me in, sugar? I need it, pretty bad,” he thrusts into you without force, just enough to let you know he’s getting desperate.

“Mm and you always get what you want, don’t you Jacob? Well, lead the way, let’s do this.”

Instead of turning to lead you through whichever door hides his bedroom, he bends, grips the backs of your thighs, and hoists you up from the floor and into his arms. You fling your arms around his neck, lock your ankles around his hips, and throw your head back and laugh.

The sound of it leaves him momentarily stunned, he’s looking up at you with a smile on your face so wide he can see all of your teeth, your throat exposed to him. You look joyful, he thinks you might be the prettiest thing he’s seen in a long time. Maybe ever.

You bring your face back down to his and he shakes out of his trance, his hair swaying with the motion of it. His smile matches yours and you stay like that for a moment, watching each other’s eyes as they’re crinkled at the corners.

He really is kind of beautiful.

“Take me to bed, babe.”

He turns you both away from the wall and moves toward the door at the end of the hall. “The difference between you and me, is that I love it when you call me that.” He pushes the door open with his foot. “Say it again.”

A few steps into the room, you drop from his arms but keep yours looped around his neck, fingers twirling through his hair. You lean in and run the tip of your tongue over the shell of his ear and feel him shiver. “I need you to get me naked, and fuck me. Now, babe.”

“As you wish.”

Your t-shirt is ripped over your head in an instant and tossed over his shoulder. Your jeans, still undone and hanging open from the hallway, are shoved down your legs. He helps you step out of them and you kick them away. Before he can continue, you reach forward and start to unbuckle his belt. He lets you do the work and watches, an amused quirk to his lips. You don’t bother pulling it out of the loops, instead you unbutton and unzip his jeans and push them off of his hips.

Oh. Shit.

His boxer briefs are snug, dark gray, and doing very little to hide his, much bigger than you were expecting, very hard cock.

“Surprised, doll?”

You giggle a little, but not at his expense. At your incorrect assumption. “You’re kind of a small guy. Not small everywhere, though huh?” Before he can offer up a retort, your hand is on it, palming him over the cotton. He reaches down and grips your wrist firmly, not wanting you to stop touching him too soon. He moves his hand to cover yours and together you squeeze him.

“Tell me you want that, you want me. I need to hear you say it,” the words come out a bit strangled.

“Haven’t I shown you that I do? Let me have it,” you purr.

He squeezes your hand again, effectively grabbing himself. “Fuck, Y/N… say it.”

You resist, just for a moment, because of course you do. You move closer to him, placing your free hand on his chest then looping a finger through and tugging on his necklace. Ghosting your lips over his, he puckers them for a kiss that you don’t offer. Against his mouth, you say quietly, but with conviction, “I want you Jake. I want you to fuck me with this big cock you’ve been hiding. Want you to ruin me.”

His hands move so quickly you don’t even see it happen, he’s spun you away from him and he’s pushing you toward the king size bed on the left side of the room. Once your knees hit the bed frame, you think he wants you to climb on but he stops you with a hand wrapped around your hip.

“Hands on the bed,” he says from behind you, face now at your ear, breathing into your hair.

He places his other palm to the center of your upper back and pushes you to bend over for him at the waist, palms flat on the bed. He takes in your form for a moment, admiring the way you’ve done what he wants. Reaching out again to your back, he runs the tip of his first finger down your spine slowly, skimming over the clasps of your bra, watching closely as your back arches and pushes your ass back into his hips. When his finger reaches your underwear, he draws it over the material lightly.

Your lingerie is a matching set, silky with lace trim. The only light in the room is coming from outside the door, left on in the hallway, but he tries to decipher the color. It’s dark, maybe a plum purple. No, aubergine. He likes the word, it scratches an itch in his brain.

“It’s interesting that you were hiding this pretty little set under jeans and a t-shirt, doll. Were you looking to get fucked tonight? Planning on going home with someone else?”

You don’t think he’s actually expecting a response, especially when he hooks his fingers under the lace at the sides of your panties and starts tugging them off of you.

“Mm maybe. Jealous?” you ask anyway as the material slips over the swell of your ass and slides down your thighs. He moves with them, crouching to kneel behind you, guiding them all the way down to your ankles and lifting each foot gently to free them. He lets them drop to the floor from his fingers, and when you shift your feet in anticipation you accidentally move them under the bed. You won’t know that until later, much later actually.

He runs his palms up the backs of your legs, from your calves to your thighs, and he squeezes the soft flesh there. The action spreads you open to him slightly, and he’s got a perfect view of your cunt, slick and almost dripping for him.

“What, exactly, would I have to be jealous of?”

You don’t realize he’s doing it until you feel his breath breeze over your sensitive skin, before he’s got his tongue on you. Your knees threaten to buckle in surprise but they’re pushed tight against the bed frame as he laps at you leisurely. It’s not enough to make you cum, and that’s not his goal. He just needed another taste. The feeling is pleasant though and you’re humming with it, he’s lost in it for a few moments as you’re pushing back against his mouth.

When he’s had his fill, he pulls away from you with a final lewd slurp as he sucks your arousal into his mouth. The sound should be offensive, but it has your pussy clenching around nothing, wanting him, ready for him. As he stands, he doesn’t bother to wipe you from his lips.

Without a word he moves from behind you and crawls onto the bed, positioning himself against the headboard, propped against the pillows. You haven’t moved from your bent pose and you make eye contact. He likes the way your hair has fallen forward over one shoulder, like a curtain or backdrop, putting your face on display for him.

“Well? Get over here.”

“Don’t command me, I’m not a dog,” you spit out, but your body is already answering his call, moving toward him without question. You find yourself crawling over him and straddling his lap. His still-covered dick pressed against your nakedness is almost overwhelming, a sigh slips from your lips in relief at the pressure of it. He’s hard and hot underneath you and you know he needs it as much as you do.

His hands have moved to grip the outsides of your thighs, and he leans up to capture your mouth with his. You kiss him back for a moment, tasting yourself on him again, and you can’t help but slip your tongue out and over his bottom lip. You move to trail kisses back, over his jaw, and down to the spot just below his ear. His grip gets tighter when you do so you stay there, pressing kisses and flicking your tongue over his skin. He moves your hips with his hands, grinding you down on him before you move down his body with your lips and tongue, kisses littering his chest and lower as you crawl backwards, leaving them over his stomach as well. His muscles flex and his skin jumps at the attention, and you can’t resist sucking it into your mouth and biting down. He hisses through gritted teeth. When you reach the waist and of his underwear you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“Keep going, for the love of God keep going.”

You comply easily, tucking your fingertips under the elastic and tugging as he shifts to help you get them off of him. Once they’re past his knees he pulls you back up to his lap by your arms, kicking the briefs away and off the bed.

Nothing between you now, you feel the heat rolling off of his body in waves as you drag your pussy over him, hot skin to hot skin. You reach behind your own back to unclasp your bra, needing to be completely bared to him. Once you tug it down your arms you toss it away, but he watches as it lands looped around the neck of his acoustic guitar in the corner. The cocky smirk has returned, he drags his eyes away from the guitar and they land on your breasts.

“Don’t get too full of yourself yet, you’ve gotta earn it,” you have to knock him down a peg or two. “You’ve got condoms, right?”

“Do I seem like a man who’s unprepared, babe?”

Your eyes roll but you smile to yourself as he reaches across his body to dig into the drawer of his nightstand. You watch his skin stretch over his ribs as he shifts.

Returning to position, foil packet in hand, he looks up into your eyes. “You still wanna do this, right?”

“Ugh, give me that,” you snatch the condom from his fingers, tear the packet open between your teeth, and toss the foil aside. His dick is resting against his stomach between you, mostly untouched but leaking at the tip. “Hold it for me, babe.”

He does as you ask, gripping it in one hand at the base, and watches like a hawk as you place the condom over the tip and deftly roll it down over his length.

“That was so fucking hot, Jesus Christ. Kiss me?”

Leaning forward with your hands on his chest to place a kiss to his lips, you lift yourself to hover over his dick, still held firmly in his hand. He pushes his hips up slightly and rubs his head through you, sliding easily through the slick moisture there.

Against your mouth he mumbles, “Fuck me, sugar.” He’s lined up and ready for you so you kiss him again, mouths pushed together tight as you sink down around him an inch or two, his hands finding your thighs once again.

“Fucking hell Jake.” He’s big, and you were beyond prepped and ready for him, but the stretch is more than you were expecting. You rock your hips a few times, easing yourself down slowly.

“I know you can take it baby, you’re doing so good for me.” He’d been watching closely, eyes glued to where your bodies are connecting, but he throws his head back to the headboard and moans, deep and low in his throat when your cunt sucks him all the way in, to the hilt. “Fuuuck.”

You’re still leaned over him as you both adjust to the feeling of being locked together like this, with his head back, neck stretched out and calling to you, sweat beading up there. You move in and catch a drop on your tongue as it starts to run down the column of his throat. He whimpers, so quietly you thought you might have imagined it until he raises his face to yours and moves his hands back to your ass.

“Need you to fuck me, doll. You ready?”

You bite your lip and nod, already a little breathless, and he begins for you, lifting you up and watching himself retreat from your body. Before you can slide off of him completely, he jerks you back down to his hips.

“JAKE!”

That’s exactly what he wants to hear. He doesn’t stop moving your body, lifting and pulling you back to him, eating up all the dirty words rolling off your tongue, until you take over and start bouncing on your own. Once you do, his hands don’t leave you but he slides them back down to grip handfuls of the soft flesh of your thighs.

“You’re so fucking good baby, feel so good wrapped around me holy shit.” You’re rolling your hips over his now, his cock buried deep and your clit slipping against his pelvis on every forward roll.

You’re both shining with sweat now, you from exerting your muscles and him from apparently running unnaturally hot. The air in the room is thick with the humidity you’re creating, the sounds and scent of sex filling the space.

You call his name softly, panting for fresh air in your lungs. “Jake, Jake… make me cum. Wanna cum again… please…”

He delivers a sharp thrust of his hips up into you before leaning forward and bringing his chest to yours. Wrapping one arm under yours and around your back, gripping your hip with the other, you’re not exactly sure how he does it so smoothly but he’s got your positions reversed in seconds. Your back hits the mattress, head almost hanging off the corner at the foot of the bed and he’s immediately found a rhythm, fucking into you with deep strokes.

His eyes are on your face, watching it shift and contort as every few pumps into you, he hits exactly the right spot inside. His gaze is interrupted by movement he catches in his periphery, and when he lifts his head to look closer he realizes he’s watching himself. Forgot about that. Interesting.

“Y/N,” he grunts out on a forward stroke, “eyes open and on me.” His voice is calm and coaxes you to obey. The pendant of his necklace is swinging over you. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod your head, feeling cock dumb and lost for words.

“You wanna watch?”

“Wha-?“

Your mouth doesn’t even form the entire word. He motions to you to lean your head back and look across the room. What you find there is an inverted reflection of your bodies in a full length floor mirror. Rolling your eyes back to him, you raise an eyebrow in question.

He chooses that moment to slam his hips into the back of your thighs.

“Seriously?!” It squeals out of you, high pitched and on one breath that he’s punched out of your lungs.

He pulls out of you and immediately you feel empty, emptier than you’ve ever felt, missing the fullness of him inside you. Before you can mourn the loss, he’s moving to roll you to your stomach. Okay we’re doing this. You finish the roll and shift to your hands and knees, your eyes finding each other’s in the mirror.

“Go ahead then, do it Jake.”

His grin is wild and devilish, and fuck if he doesn’t look absolutely sinful. His hair is damp, stuck to every inch of skin that it lays across. He doesn’t take his eyes off yours as he runs himself up through your folds and plunges back inside you, bottoming out and causing your body to lurch forward and a groan to push from your lips. Leaning over you, the skin of his chest hot and slick on your back, he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. You think that it’s kind of sweet, almost tender, until a hand slips up the front of your body and wraps around your throat.

Suddenly you’re both upright on your knees and he’s fucking up into you, pressed tight against your back. “Eyes on me babe, keep ‘em open,” he breathes directly into your ear as his other hand snakes down your stomach and tucks itself between your legs. He gathers wetness from where he’s moving inside you and brings his fingers up to press circles into your clit. Your hands fly back over your head, sink into his hair and hold tight.

“Yes yes yessssss Jake fuck, just like that, don’t stop!”

In the reflection of your bodies, moving together, all you can see is that cocky fucking smirk.

“Not stopping ‘til you’re falling apart all over my cock, not stopping after, never wanna leave this pussy.” His eye contact is intense, like it was earlier, at the bar. Before he even knew your name. And now he never wants to leave you? You know it’s his dick talking but it feels so so good.

“Keep talking, pretty boy, make me cum. I’m so close, keep talking!”

“I can feel you, sugar. Squeezing me, taking it all. You’re so good… So fucking good.” He punctuates the sentence by pulling his hand from your cunt, and bringing it back with a slap. Directly to your clit.

Your orgasm explodes, ripping through you from your core and spreading outward like wildfire.

Your body tries to double over on itself but Jake keeps you upright with the hand on your throat and fulfills his promise. He doesn’t stop fucking you, doesn’t even slow down, not until he feels your muscles relax and your body go limp.

“C’mere darlin’, I’ve got you.” He pulls out of you gently and shifts you both back to the top of the bed, laying you against his pillows. Your arms feel like jelly but you reach for him. He stays close, unsure if you want him to continue.

You’re smiling softly up at him, and he doesn’t really expect your next words.

“Would be a real waste if you didn’t finish what you started. Sir.”

That smile, the bright one, curling at the corners and showcasing all of his beautiful teeth, stretches across his lips.

“As you wish.”

He brings his body over yours, your legs open and he slides between them. He slips back inside you and you sigh in relief at the perfectly full feeling of it. You clench yourself around him, wrap your arms behind him and run your fingers over his back, encouraging him to move and reach his own ending.

“Kiss me. Cum for me.”

A hand finds itself cupping your cheek, his lips find their way to yours, and he moves inside you. It’s slow and saccharine, until it isn’t. He’s close, been close, and his body chases the release he needs quickly. You whisper words of motivation into his ear, the sound pushing him closer until he reaches that cliff, and with a final soft call of your name, he falls over it.

He lets his body come to rest on top of yours for a few moments and you trail your fingers up the sticky skin of his back, then twirl them through the damp strands of his hair. Once he’s able to move, he pushes off of you after a peck to your lips, and leaves the bed. You let your eyes close while he’s gone and when he returns, the condom has been disposed of and he’s carrying two bottles of water.

You sit up and he passes one to you. After a long drink, almost emptying the bottle, you cap it and set it on the bedside table.

He’s still standing at the side of the bed, eyeing you curiously. Smirk in place. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

“Shut up and get back in bed. I’m fucking tired.” Your eyes are alight with laughter behind them as he does what you command. He insists that you let him hold you and you comply, eyelids heavy and ready to sleep.

“Goodnight babe,” he mumbles into the hair at the crown of your head.

“Don’t call me that…”

He’s chuckling to himself as he closes his own eyes and begins to drift off.

This Morning

“You don’t know me at all, pretty boy.”

“Not yet, doll. I’m trying though.”

You feel your eyes roll and you try, for once, to stop them but he sees it.

“I don’t know why you’re still pretending you don’t like me, like you don’t remember anything. We had a good time, even before we made it back here. Then we had a really good time,” he laughs a little but there’s disappointment behind his words. “You didn’t feel it?”

A sigh huffs from your mouth, as you remain unmoving, standing near his dresser, pieces of your clothing still scattered among his belongings. In his space.

The disappointment is written on his face now, etched into his features as his eyebrows knit together and he purses his lips. Those lips. You can feel yourself backing down, about to give in to him yet again. You remember the night pretty clearly, remember the moments when the arrogant act slipped and he looked at you like he’s never needed anything or anyone as close to him as he did you.

“Don’t leave yet. At least have coffee with me, talk to me? Let me in a little.” Your defenses are dropping, the sad little puppy dog eyes are breaking you down.

“And you’re not gonna chop me up and hide me in your basement, right?”

Light returns to his eyes as he chuckles, the raspy sound hitting your ears and you find that you enjoy it this time. You’re both smiling nervously now.

“I have no intention of hurting you, ever really.”

It’s working, your grip on the sheet around you is loose and you feel the fabric slip from it and flutter to the floor. His eyebrows raise but before he can say something stupid, you drop your jeans back to the ground where you found them and move back toward the bed. Crawling onto the mattress and over to him, you stop on hands and knees when you’re nose to nose with him once again.

“Fine.” You let a full smile stretch across your lips and he soaks it in, basks in it, commits it to memory, as he lays you back across his pillows.

You know he’s already working out how he’s going to get you back here once you do leave, you can see his mind turning behind the eyes that are locked on yours.

You’re not sure that you’re going to resist him this time.

Part 2 🖤

#greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #gvf fan fiction #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut

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newtdrawz · 6 months

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Guys,,, au where like ok

au that takes place after No Way Home where Peter is all alone by himself,, no family no friends and in his crappy apartment. Just him and his spidey suit so he decides (with very little money he could save up) to try and buy and learn an instrument, cuz why not it's not like he's busy with school or friends or movie nights or fake internships that were just covers to hang out in a lab with his father figure,,,

Anyways he gets a guitar and he does his lessons on his cheap little phone and he gets pretty good. He learns a couple songs (one of them being May's favorite song she used to listen to all the time so he plays it everytime he misses her which is a lot)

He eventually gets better and better at it and he tries more difficult songs. One day when he's just messing around with cords he thinks it'll be fun to try and cover a full song, so he does and records it and he, without really thinking abt it, just posts it to whatever social media he had (and he definitely had to make new accounts because of the spell). It accidentally gets really popular and people are requesting songs cuz they like the acoustics of his half empty apartment (lol)

Without really thinking about it he posts more covers and he's actually really having fun with it, he even learns that he's a pretty decent singer too. This also serves as a distraction from the loneliness of his life and all the longing he has for his old friends. Eventually people start asking "do you have any original music?" "Do you have songs that you've written?"

He doesn't really think he's good enough to be writing his own music but after some encouragement he tries it out and people love it. He tries more and more and more and people love it even more and more and more.

Soon he gets a little popular and tries playing for small gigs and things and he does really good. He's starting to be recognized every once in a great great while. He's thriving (still absolutely devastated 24/7 but at least he's having fun 😭)

He plays at one gig and he has a few people who recognize his songs but his eyes land on two specific people in the crowd.

MJ and Ned.

He kinda panics but manages to get through his set pretty decently, it turns out MJ and Ned are kinda fans of his music. After they leave wherever Peter sang at they wonder for the rest of the night why he kept looking over at them with the most devastated look in his eyes.

Basically a musician/celeb au but I over explain it 🫶 does this au defeat the whole purpose of staying on the down low and not bringing attention to himself? Yes. Are there a lot of plot holes to this au? Yes. Do I care? No, cuz it's fun and I like angst

But yeah that's right,, I'm also very annoying about Spider-Man and the mcu lol

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lanadelray-gurl · 3 months

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''My heart is, and always will be, yours''

Singer!Austin butler x Bandmate!fem!reader

Warning: Angst,fighting,cussing,hidden love,fluff,soft smut,p n v,fingering,biting,crying,falling in love(really a friends/enemies to lovers kind of thing)

Summary: you and Austin had started a band with a few other friends back in high school.You played bass and he play guitar,you both sang together. But what happens after you start to fall in love with him but his new found fame has gotten to his head?

You had always been interested in music,you grew up with it. Your mom played the piano and your father played the bass which he would go on to pass down to you,you didn’t have a club for music in your high school so you decided to make a post on your facebook(gosh you feel old looking back on this) you made a small post to your 20 friends on Facebook. It read;’Do you like music? Do you like making music? Can you play an instrument but simply can’t find anywhere to play? Well please send me a message if you’re interested in a music club after school at my house!’ You sounded desperate,,which was the case. See you always wanted to start a band,your dad did when he was your age and you decided fuck it why not! That’s when you met him. Him being Austin,at first you thought he was cute,he had nicely styled dirty blond hair,pretty blue eyes and he was tall. And did I mention he could sing AND play guitar. Yeah..he was perfect.

When you first talked or Austin he had messaged you on Facebook,you didn’t even know he went to your school! You barely paid attention to your surroundings in school,either writing stupid songs or drawing little things in your notebook. He told you he was very interested in your ‘club’ and even sent a video of him playing the acoustic guitar and singing an Elvis song! It was a bit old school but you sighed it,he told you he could pretty much play any song you wanted him to. He also added that he had a few friends who also went to your school who’d be interested. One being named Adam;he was your age and played drums. Then you had Johnny; he was a few years older and played rhythm guitar. It was perfect what could go wrong!

Apparently everything could go wrong—

Well not necessarily for the whole group,it seemed to just be you. It’s been a few years now,you and Austin had been posting your music (which was mostly covers of really popular songs) to any platform out there! And it gained a lot of traction,you both really enjoyed it,as time passed you guys went a recording studio,produced your own music,posted it and the next week you were approved by a big record label. You all of course said yes,you could see the vision,your name in lights. Well your bands name;Ecstasy (can you tell I got lazy) Your bands music was mostly sensual and meaningful. That’s how you saw it,but it started to look like all of the bands hard work was just a money grab for the rest of your band.

As the years went on you and Austin grew close,you were completely smitten by him. You tried to make all of his ideas for songs come true..even if they sucked. But he didn’t see you like that,you wrote the songs,play the bass and they get money. Which hurt you once you realized. As things progressed you noticed how at every show and on every tour he was with a girl or at least flirting with the girls in the crowd. If hurt you but you couldn’t say it,you had even thought about leaving the band or even going solo but you didn’t want to be selfish. You stayed quiet,Adam and Johnny took notice to your change in personality. Your once bubbly and excited personality had turned kind of dark and closed off,no one could tell what was wrong because you just kept to yourself if you weren’t making music. Sometimes you’d be pretty happy during rehearsals or before recording but somehow Austin brought your mood down.

He’d constantly bring a girl or two to everything the band went to. Didn’t matter if it was private or if it was just a casual hang out. It was to say the least embarrassing and you let it go on for years now. Why couldn’t you stick up for yourself?! God..it was pathetic. You just ignored it at this point,you were emotionally numbed at least that’s what you thought until your most recent show.

Your band was preparing for a show,you kept quiet the whole time. Austin noticed this,even thought it’s been going on for so long he finally noticed your change in personality. He grabbed your shoulder gently,you were grabbing your bass from its case you looked back at him and gently shrugged him off of your shoulder.

“Hey man what’s going on with you..?” He spoke with a bit of force. You looked back at him,you were wearing an amazing outfit,you were wearing a tight black dress with fishnets and combat boots and he took notice..when did you become so pretty? You had beautiful makeup but he could see your eye bags and just how tired you looked. You spoke,your once soft and sweet voice was now slightly rough and scratchy “nothing..just let’s get ready..” you walked towards the stage everything was ready for the show to start,Austin followed close behind you. Tonight was gonna be stressful..

You were nearing the end of the show,you played your heart out,so did the whole band. It was time for your biggest song. This is where you and Austin got really close and just made it seem like everything was sweet and beautiful but it was farm from it. As the song played you felt tears stinging your eyes.(listen to the song above now!!)

“Without shame..”

His voice was smooth and beautiful god why were you so in love with him? It hurt your very soul.

“Two outfits then to my name..”

It was almost time for you to join in,you didn’t know if you could do it. This song was about love but you knew he didn’t love you..and that was so painful.

“You’d end up in one when you’d stay..”

You felt your heart start to race,you walked towards the microphone,standing right next to him. His hands stringing the guitar skillfully. That both turned you on and made you sick. You wanted those hands around you but every other girl got what you wanted.

“We had no where to go..and every desire for going there..”

You began to sing with him,he glanced at you. Your voice was beautiful to him,and once the fans heard you sing they went crazy they loved your voice and something inside him suddenly felt connected to you. His heart began to race.

“I heard once..it’s the comforts that makes us feel numb” You both continued to sing together for the next few moments,your voice made him shiver and his made you wince from the pain from the heart break. “We’d go out with no way to get home..and we’d sleep on somebody’s floor..wake up feeling like a millionaire..” you both continued to sing your heart out,you both looked up and stared into each others eyes. You felt emotions take over you. Austin and the rest of the band could tell you were bubbling with emotion. About to burst whenever you were tipped over the edge and the intensity of the eye contact was what tipped you over. “Wish I’d known it was just our turn..(we just got by)..Being blamed for a world we had no power in..(but we tried)..” Johnny and Adam joined in for a few parts now,giving the song an angelic sound,but your voice seemed to over power them.

“You and I had nothing to show..(we didn’t know)..But the best of the world in the palm of our hands..(anything,darling)” You felt the tears fall down your cheeks,you were now staring to the floor trying not to let your emotions get the best do you,Austin noticed this. He felt a stinging in his heart why did he suddenly care so much..? “And,darling, I haven’t felt it since then..I don’t how the feeling ended..” Your voices cracked slightly,the crowd roared happily but your band knew it was a sign of you losing yourself to you emotions,Austin almost lost his breath. You had raw talent and hearing you putting your real emotions into this certain song made his chest almost cave.

“But I know being reckless and young..Is not how the damage gets done..” You continued to cry as you sang,it was heartbreaking to watch but the fans didn’t care they just wanted to hear you sing with Austin. But now that he kept thinking about you and your new persona he felt a connection of heartbreak with you but why? He maybe thought it was just heartbreaking to see you cry because he was perfectly fine..or at least that’s what he thought. “One time we would want for nothing..(one time we had it all,love).. We knew what our love was worth (when we had nothing)..” you looked up to the sky for a few seconds,your eyes locked with Austin’s once more. He was caught off guard for a moment,you noticed this and felt a since of pride but this.

“..Now we're always missing something (I miss when).. I miss when we did not need much..” Austin backed away from the microphone,he continued to play the guitar. You grabbed the microphone and stared to sing your solo part,you took a deep breath and closed your eyes tight as you put your heart into this part.

“Oh,if the car ran,the car was enough..If the sun shone on us,it’s a plus..and the tank was always filled up! Only enough for our getting there..” Tears streamed down your face as you kept your eyes closed tightly. You opened your eyes finally and looked around and watched as Austin came back to the microphone to end the song and then the show.

Finally once you finished that song you all waved to the fans and you rushed off stage,wiping your tears and sobbing as you put your bass back in its case. You wiped off your messed up makeup,Austin noticed this as he walked past you to get ready to leave on the bus back to the hotel you were all staying. You were all on the bus now,you sat far away from everyone,in the very front you were on your phone mindlessly scrolling socials. You felt eyes on you and you knew it was Austin,that made your heart squeeze itself.

Once you all arrived at the hotel all of you got onto the elevator,Austin was oddly close standing so close your shoulders pressed together. Once the elevator dinged you all went separate ways to your rooms..or at least that’s what you thought. You heard footsteps behind you,you walked towards your room and once you reached for the door you quickly turned around and saw Austin. “Hey..” he spoke breathlessly. You looked annoyed but mostly emotional he couldn’t read your expression. “Can I come in?..” you looked shocked by this,you quickly shook your head and tried to rush into your room “no Austin— No not just no,just fuck no—“ you scoffed and walked into your room and tried to slam the door but he stopped it and barged into your room. You turned to him and had tears streaming down your already redden and wet cheeks. “We’re talking..I don’t care how you feel (Y/N)..” he spoke with a bit of anger. Your eyes widened before you gave your speech,well that’s how would Austin described it.

“No! You don’t get to fucking decide when we talk..you don’t get to tell me how to feel! Now after what you did to me! Did you not see it?! Did you not see how I looked at you and hear how I spoke?! The way I made everything happen just for you?! I even put your shitty song lyrics in our song!” You screamed and continued to let the tears flow,using your hands to speak and put more emotions into it.

“Are you kidding me?! I’m trying to figure out why you’re so emotional and weird all of a sudden! I’m being nice to you! We’ve been friends for years and im showing I care. What are you going on ab—!” You scoffed and threw your hands up in the air before turning away just to look back at him and pointing a finger into his chest.

“I. Loved. You..ever since I met you I loved you. My heart was set on you and your stupid blue eyes and your perfect lips and perfect body..a-and and—“ you put your hands up into your hair and gripped onto it “you..you were just you and I fell in love with yo—“ you let your hands fall to your sides but before you could speak he grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you passionately but with a bit of aggression. It caught you off guard but you kissed back,you held onto his wrist gently as you both walked. You were walking backwards and he basically guided you to your room. He picked you up by the back of your thighs,her laid you down on the bed and continued to passionate kiss.

He pulled away from the kiss and lifted up your dress,pulling it off your beautiful body. Happy to see you were wearing no bra but a pretty pair of black lace panties,you crossed your arms over your breast and shuddered. You turned away from him and whimpered softly,Austin untied your combat boots and pulled them off your tired feet,he pulled off your socks and kiss up from your calves to your thighs. He pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. He fell to his knees and kissed your inner thigh from the right to the left side,gently biting down on your soft skins. You felt your pussy clinch around nothing as the wetness from you core drenched the cotton.

You moaned gently and covered your mouth,you felt him hook his fingers underneath the band of your panties. He tugged them off,you lifted your hips up and bit your bottom lip a little too hard, you pierced the skin making you flinch. He looked up and smirked up at you knowing he made you crazy,he put your thighs over his shoulders. He started licking up your arousal,it was sweet. The best things he’s ever tasted,he sucked your clit and watched as you squirmed and pressed your hips down onto his face the best you could. He pulled away and rubbed two fingers against your wet core,getting them wet with your slick. With the two wet digits he fingered your drenched and aching pussy slowly,pumping his fingers gently while curling them up to hit that spongey spot that made you arch your back.

He went back to licking and sucking your clit,he took you for granted and he was gonna make up for it. Your beautiful body and your sweet pussy was everything he was missing,all the girls meant nothing to him anymore. He realized he needed you,only you that all he could think of now. You started to feel a coil in your stomach tangle and begin to unwind and get close to snapping. Knowing you were about to cum you tried to push him away but he wouldn’t let you,he pressed your hips down and licked and sucked faster but still at a gentle pace. His fingers working and stretching you out. You rocked you hips wildly “Austin,Austin fuckfuckfuckfuck!—“ you moaned loudly and finally came into his fingers,he moaned against your clit. You gasped loudly and whimpered,he finally pulled away and pulled his fingers out slowly.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good honey..I’ve neglected you for so long baby..I’m so so sorry..”

He spoke softly,he stood up and took off his belt and unbuttoned and then unzipped his jeans before pulling them down along with his boxers. His cocked bounced up,your eyes widened. You’ve seen the outline of it before,you knew he was blessed but seeing it hard and up close made you shake. It was long and tick,leaking with pre-cum,you did this to him and you couldn’t believe it. You felt years well up in your eyes and he noticed,he gently kissed near your eyes and over your eyelids. “Don’t cry honey..I’m sorry baby I really am..” you finally cried tears of pure joy and laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck “nonono don’t worry I-I’m just so happy like..I’ve dreamed about this..” you hiccuped as you felt him pick you up and lay on down long ways in the bed with him towering over you.

He sat up while sitting in his knees,he grabbed your calves and put them on other sides of his hips. He pulled you closer,the shaft of his cock laid against your sensitive clit. It made you moan softly,he stared into your eyes as he slowly rubbed your stomach and smiled happily. It was a genuine smile,something you’ve always wanted to see for so long. “I should’ve found out sooner baby..I could’ve made you feel so so so good sooner..” he whispered,he held the shaft of his cock and slowly pressed the tip into your tight cunt. “Oh fuck aus—“ you let your eyes roll back as you felt him press every inch into you,he filled you up so nicely. His eyes were glued onto his cock sliding into you,his mouth hung open.

He had finally bottomed out,he was pressed into you so nicely you felt him grazing over your cervix. This made you cry out,he leaned down holding your little body close to him,you once again wrapped your arms around him and scratched his tan skin,leaving angry red marks. You heard him groan loudly into your ear,her was fully pressed against your cervix now in this position you couldn’t handle this for long. He slowly pulled out making you whimper before he slowly pushed all the way back it. You let out a loud gasp and you let out a choked moan,he raised up slightly and stared down at you and he observed your fucked our face.

“God your pussy is sucking me I-in I could cum right now..fill you up nice and g-good..”

He whispered softly and started to thrust,it was slow but it had a bit of speed and power but not too much. He didn’t want to hurt you not ever or ever again,he knew he hurt you so many times before and he didn’t want to hurt you in such an intimate moment. You hid your face in his shoulder and bit down leaving a dark red and purple mark,he moaned loudly. Now his thrust gained more speed and strength,he thrusted into you like his life depended on it.

He growled softly into your ear,he kissed up your neck,he left dark marks along your soft neck and up your jaw. He groaned loudly now. You knew he was holding back you wanted all of him. “P-please Aus..please fuck me..pleasepleaseplease..I need your cock deep inside of me..” You moaned into his ear and he gladly took your invitation. He thrusted into you wildly and roughly,she growled and grunted loudly and he looked wild. You stared as his face contorted and twisted as he thrusted in and out of your sopping cunt,you cried out and rocked you hips against him as you felt you second orgasm approaching,you clinched and sloppily grind against his thrust you couldn’t take much more.

“Is my baby gonna cum?Hah..—Hm? My pretty girl wanna cum on my cock?Fuck..—Come on a baby be a good girl..let me feel you cum all over my cock..god you’re so fucking right..” He grunted loudly and stared into your tired half lidded eyes. You nodded you head quickly as you felt your climax getting closer. With one last strong thrust you came all over his cock,squeezing down on his cock making him shutter and he gave you one more thrust before feeling up your warm cunt with his hot cum. He groaned and slammed into you. He stared up at the ceiling before dropping his head and staring down at you.

He slowly pulled out,watching as his cum spilled out of you. He smirked and let out a breathless laugh before plopping next to you and pulling you close. He wrapped the blanket over the both of you,as you both cuddled he lazily dragged his hand down your stomach and to your puffy and sore pussy,he gently pressed his fingers into you. Gently pumping into you,trying to keep his cum inside of you. You whimpered softly and snuggled your face into his shoulder.

“I love you..” he whispered down into your ear as he closed his eyes and spoke sleepily,he was getting close to passing out.

“I love you too..I always will.” You spoke softly and closed your eyes. You both finally fell asleep,you slept in until the late afternoon that next day and it was the best sleep of your life.

Hii! I hope you guys enjoy this little one shot,I finished this before my other stories so I’m posting it! More coming soon..

#Spotify #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austin butler x you #austin butler imagine #austin butler #austin butler fic #austin butler fluff

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boomhoon · 2 months

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LOVE SHHH!

A Jay drabble- inspired by Jo Yuri

Synopsis- You’ve declared love dead in your heart, but an unexpected meeting in the hallway has you head over heels for a man who doesn’t even know your name!

Content- gn reader, implied to be set in a highschool, strangers to ???, fluff, Jay calls reader pretty, one swear word in the first sentence, Jay is in a band (☠️). not proofread, 801 WC.

Love is shit.

It’s pointless. A waste of time. A waste of emotion. And i’m definitely done with it.

My last lover cheated on me with a girl at some random party, and my first love ghosted me without any warning. That one a lot hurt because we were doing so well and I still saw them around town (and because they were my very first). The rest in between have been horrible blurs of toxicity and boredom.

Was love always this bad? No. It used to be magical, something I yearned for. Feeling loved, and loving others is something everyone should experience. But is it all we need? Once again, no! I’m free to love myself, do things how I want to, and enjoy everything by mysel-

“Oh my gosh- I’m so sorry, let me pick these up for you.” I bumped into someone in the hall and ended up slammed against the floor. My books and other school materials were scattered all across. People slowly walked by, and made the awkward move of bending to help but then walking away. I groaned quietly, and started picking them up myself. “It’s okay, I should've paid more attention.” I mumbled.

I looked up and saw a gentle hand extend towards me. I grabbed it, and instead of pulling myself up, another hand gingerly came to my back to help pull me up. That’s when I saw him. He had rose gold specs on, he was dressed better than some runway models, he had on cologne which smelt citrusy, and musky. He had concerned eyes, and a soft smile.

“Are you sure you’re all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” The man nervously chuckled as his hands retracted from me. I blinked a few times in awe before responding, “Oh no, i’m not hurt at all! Please, don’t worry about it.”

He raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but nodded his head in understanding. “Okay, I’ll trust you on that.” He bent down to retrieve the last of my items before handing them to me. He stopped once he took notice of a certain item. It was a guitar pick, a miscellaneous object I had left in my pocket. But it happened to catch his interest.

“You play the guitar?” He asked a small smile of intrigue, and he looked up from the pick, his head still tilted downwards.

“Yeah.” I nodded quickly, trying to ignore the way he was looking at me. “The acoustic one.” I clarified.

This man was gorgeous.

He nodded, pulling his fingers away from my stuff, and readjusting his specs carefully. “I do too. I’ve also tried out the electric guitar. “I started last year, and it’s become my new favorite hobby.” He suddenly started speaking at a rapid pace. “Did you know that acoustic guitars date back about 3000, to 3500 years from now? The first guitars are thought to have been found in Spain, but i’ve also seen some sources say they could even be traced back to Mesopotamia! Isn’t that crazy?”

I looked at him with slightly wide eyes. He seemed to have a lot of junky knowledge on things.

Not that I wasn’t interested…

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I’ve never got into the history of guitars before.” I laughed sheepishly.

“I’m still learning the chords, and how to play some songs. I think that’s all the information I can store right now.”

He simply laughed in understanding. “Yeah I get that. I’m probably the odd one for knowing about the history of guitars. My friends say so at least-Damn that guy Sunghoon-,” he muttered the last part to himself.

I smiled to myself.

“Anyway I don’t want to keep you standing here any longer, sorry for bumping into you.” He raised his hand apologetically, and started walking off again. He seemed busy, which would explain why he was in a rush running down the hall.

But midway, he stopped and jogged up to me again.

“This might seem weird, but i’m in a small band. We’re playing in the garage of one of my band mates, and I was wondering— would you want to come and see me play?” He asked, with a lightly scrunched up face, and a tight smile. Almost as if he expected me to say ‘no’.

“Yeah sure.” I said instead.

His face relaxed, and he pulled out a piece of paper and pen from his bag. He wrote a few things down and handed it to me.

“Alright, i’ll see you there! It was nice meeting you…”

I straightened the piece of paper and read its contents.

It contained the address of his band mate’s house, his phone number, and a small message

### ### #### i think you’re pretty, call me - Jay

I hated love, but I fell in love right there.

————————————————————————

taglist: @sanasour @mars101

A/N: IM SORRY THIS WAS SHORT AGAIN 😫 I might continue this because i have some ideas for it, but omg life is tough! Any interaction is appreciated <3

#Spotify #inspired by jo yuri #enhypen fluff #enhypen jay #enhypen #jay fluff #jay drabbles #enhypen drabbles #jay #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jay park #park jay #park jongseong #jongseong fluff #enhypen jongseong

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miela · 7 months

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Shattered Memories • Chapter IX: The Thread of Silk and Gold • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: FLUFFITY FLUFF Chapter Warnings: it's another long boi (cries in overachieving and overly self-critical writer) Extra: FELLOW SWIFTIES THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, Had to pull out my songwriting skills for this one-, another chapter I was so excited for EEEEEEEE- Word Count: 6.2k

Masterlist | Playlist | Pin Board

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

DIARY / Dream Log #67 / 05 JUN 2025

I think the hardest drug I ever took was all of Taylor Swift's discography. Because there is no way this boy in my dreams is real. He sounds like fragments of her songs and I swear being a swiftie is finally turning my brain cells delulu.

He's my midnight folklore lover (pun completely intended)

See he's not the breakup songs, no he's the love songs. He's fearless, state of grace, hey stephen, and many others all wrapped in a box of mystery with a bow on too that I can't untie or cut loose.

Of course, I made him up, why else can't I see his face? He's not real, right? He can't be. Something that good in my life doesn't exist. What do I deserve from this kind of love? All I do is hurt the ones I love, so of course he's not real. I'm just delusional. Delusional and lonely as hell.

But at the same time…then why does everything feel like a memory?

[END NOTE]

You decided that you would spend your day at the Avengers Tower penthouse. You don't think you could handle Sam, Bucky, and Dr. Cho teasing you for beaming like an idiot and trying to squeeze it out of you. And you couldn't explain to them how you didn't stay put like you were supposed to. You wondered what they would say if they knew that you kissed him…twice. God forbid Morgan knew too? You would never hear the end of it for at least three months. It was your day off so you didn’t have to worry about random calls since Nika agreed to leave you alone for a while as a way to make up for almost ruining your kiss with Peter.

You could still feel his lips on yours like the ghost of him was left with you when your lips met.

You felt different after the kiss. Good different. You felt lighter like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders and you weren’t sure if it was from the kiss itself or something else. You just knew you were really happy.

You were looking at the timeline FRIDAY had made (and graciously made into the form of a spider web just to fuck with you) and sighed. You wish you could remember everything you were with Peter. It looked like it was lovely…what you guys had before. You wish you could make yourself remember but you couldn’t.

But things started to feel more familiar than before and you couldn't really explain it. After the first kiss, it was like your body remembered him. Kissing him felt familiar but foreign in a good way.

You knew Peter was the faceless boy in your dreams, with no doubt. Especially because he never denied it. You both would beat around the bush about confirming it with the fear of it hurting you even though you were the one to push for answers more than he was. Hell, you're the one who had to find him.

You eyed the timeline and took a deep breath. "FRIDAY, archive the timeline."

After that, you went to the music room where you kept all of your guitars. You were in the mood to play and sing your little happy heart out. You didn't have a lot of guitars but you did have a collection of them that you loved and cherished. You had the first one you ever got which was a regular wooden brown acoustic one that you practiced on all the time. It was filled with stickers on the back of it to give it personality. You still remember how painful your fingers would feel after four hours of practice every day. There was a black one that your dad got you after you mastered playing the first song that you were learning. It was your favorite one for a while until you got your red one. You remember being afraid of using it because you were worried that it would break in your hands. It was precious to you and you didn’t want to mess it up.

It was one of the ones Taylor Swift used on her Red tour.

It was a gift from your beloved Spidey for your birthday. He used his Spidey status and sent Taylor a letter asking if she could wish you a happy birthday. He didn’t expect a response from her, but a week later she did. After a conversation between your favorite hero and your favorite singer, you were met with a beautifully written birthday letter with tickets to her concert and a Polaroid picture of her and her three cats, a video of her singing Happy Birthday, and two signed red guitars, one electric and the other acoustic. The red electric guitar was hung on the wall in your bedroom with the Polaroid framed next to it. The acoustic one took you a week to even use. You remember crying with happiness on and off for three hours when you got it.

Apparently, without knowing, he had saved her once and she wanted to thank him in some way and he chose that to cash in.

You smiled as you picked it up and looked at it for a long, loving moment before turning to grab your notebook. You walked down the stairs and into the living room, plopped down on the couch, and set the guitar next to you as you opened your notebook. You flipped through the pages and looked at the notes, lyrics, doodles, scratched-out, aggressively circled, and underlined words, and tear stains that filled the pages.

The entire notebook was dedicated to him. The Faceless Boy. Peter Parker.

You don’t know why you bound so much of your emotions about him along the white pages and you couldn’t tell if it was a way to clear your mind or if it was a way to heal. Maybe both.

You decided that you were going to stop forcing yourself to remember him and just enjoy the time you’re spending with him and appreciate the new memories you’ll be making with him. One’s that hopefully won’t be erased from your mind this time. Will he ever tell you what even happened? Maybe not and you still hadn’t decided if you were okay with that, but in due time, hopefully, he will be honest with you.

You landed on a page that you remember fresh in your mind because you had only written one thing on the page, and it was three weeks ago when you wrote it.

A single thread ties me to you and yet not a single memory clicks. Are there clues I didn’t see?

It wasn’t the first time you wrote a poetic line in this notebook about the faceless boy, and it wasn’t the first time a poetic line became a fully fleshed-out song. And this moment of inspiration that you had didn’t make anything different. Maybe it was because you were still giddy from the night before.

So you grabbed a pen, picked up your guitar, and began writing and strumming your little heart out.

My sweet boy…

Those three words rang through Peter’s mind for the rest of the night until he fell asleep. And then he dreamt of all the times you called him that before.

He knew you didn’t remember him, that was clear. But something happened when you guys kissed. He knew you felt it because he felt it, and he felt you feel it. On top of that, you didn’t feel any pain from it. And then when you called him my sweet boy…

He nearly lost his mind.

So when Peter woke up, he felt determined. He made a decision that he should have made weeks ago. Really it should have been five years ago.

He was going to tell you everything. And nothing could and would stop him.

So he got up and got into the shower. He spent an ungodly amount of time in there trying to figure out what he was going to say and how to react to any of the possible reactions you would have. After that, he got out and forced himself to eat something before grabbing his backpack and pulling out from under his bed the suitcase full of the things he took from your room instead of telling you everything right then and there. He had his reasons, but he was beginning to second-guess them. He opened the suitcase to check and make sure everything was in there. When that was done, he set the stuff he was taking with him on the bed.

He put on his spider suit, the one you made for him all those years ago, and put his backpack over his shoulders. He made sure the suitcase was locked and secured so nothing would fall out. He thinks he would actually die if that happened. He picked it up and went to hurry out before he backtracked.

He glanced over at the silver spider necklace sitting on his end table.

He chewed his lip. He wants to give it to you so badly, but…he wanted it to be another special moment when he did give it back to you.

So he left it there and hurried out of the apartment window.

Once, he made it onto the roof of the building, he called you. But it went to voicemail. No doubt, you were taking a break from work today. So just to be sure he called your office number.

"Stark Industries," Nika chimed in a customer service voice.

"Hey, Nika. It's Peter,"

"Ah, Avenger Lover Boy,” Her voice went back to normal. “What can I do you for?"

He blushed under his mask at the nickname. "Is (Y/N) there today?"

"Yep, she's up in the penthouse-"

"Cool! I'll be there in like…fifteen minutes."

“Oh?” she asked with obvious cheekiness in her tone. “Making a grand gesture? You better be bringing flowers.”

“She doesn’t do bouquets,” Peter stated. “She prefers going to see the flowers in their natural state. Better for the environment in her eyes.”

Nika hummed in amusement. “You pay attention. Good. See you in a few.”

And with that, she hung up.

He swung from Queens to Manhattan as fast and as carefully as he could and even helped a few people along the way. When he arrived he walked straight into the Avenger’s building. He would’ve swung up to a window and climbed in, but he had no idea how security was and he didn’t wanna risk dropping anything from the highest building in New York City. Again, he thinks he would actually die if that happened. So he let his anxiety win and played it safe by going through the building like a normal person.

He hurried straight for the elevator and impatiently pressed the button as if that would make it come down faster. He tapped his foot on the ground in suspense and waved at different people who walked passed and greeted him. When the doors finally opened, he waited for the people to walk off before hurrying his way inside and aggressively clicking buttons again.

Before the door could close, a hand stopped it from doing so.

Peter looked to see Nika step inside and give him a straight-faced nod as she pressed the button for the door to close. She glanced at him without saying anything and then scanned her eye. There was a long silence as the elevator went up and it honestly made Peter uncomfortable.

“You know,” Nika started. “You’re bold for wearing that suit today after that kiss from yesterday.”

Peter looked at her, his mask showing that his eyes widened.

“I’ll make sure the top floor is on lockdown from anyone else.”

“Nika…” Peter replied as his face burned under his mask when he realized what she was implying.

“Relax, I’m messing with you,” she smirked at him. “You’re so tense right now. Lighten up, dude.”

He took a deep breath and shook it out a little. He was extremely tense. He was about to tell you everything that you should’ve been told years ago.

Once the elevator stopped, she spoke again.

"Good Luck, Peter Parker,” she smiled and walked off and gave him a salute.

"Th-thank you," Peter replied and the elevator closed again and went up.

He took another nervous breath. “Alright, Peter, you got this. No backing down.”

When the doors opened he hurried in to find you, but he stopped when he heard the sound of a guitar coming from the conference room. He stopped in his tracks when he realized that it was you playing your guitar. He slowly walked over to the staircase walked up quietly and kept his distance.

He stopped when he saw you, dressed in a pair of black joggers, a black fitted sleeveless crop top, and a long black cardigan that was falling off one shoulder. You had your stark specs on and you wiggled your bare toes and you strummed the red guitar that he recognized all too well. You were facing the window and he could see your reflection through it but he was just out of view to where you couldn’t see his. He smiled under his mask. He missed watching you play.

But the minute you started singing, his heart nearly stopped.

Green was the color of the grass

Where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

Peter remembered when you told him that there were days when you would go to this park and read a book. Sometimes you still went when you needed to clear your mind. Although you were proud to be a Stark, it was a bit of a heavy thing to have on your shoulders at such a young age. So to get away from everything, you would take a book, go to Centennial Park, and escape into worlds that were different from yours. He remembered how you told him that you always hoped to meet eyes with somebody there and fall in love with them.

That’s not exactly how it happened with the two of you, but you always said it was better than your little fantasy.

Blue was the color of your shirt

When you were sixteen at the deli shop

You used to go when you had a little money

He recalled the first time you went to his place with Celina. You all had a project you were working on and he took you to Delmar’s deli shop to get some food.

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Peter realized the song was about your memories of him in your dreams.

Bad was the blood of the vibes in the flight

On your trip to Germany

You ate at my favorite spot for dinner

Bold was the waitress on our three-day trip

Getting lunch in Saxony

She said I looked like an American sweetheart

He remembered that day. The first time you guys met as Spiderheroes.

Time, mystical time

Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine

Are there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

He leaned against the wall and listened to you continue to sing.

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into the right heart

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons

One web of silk and gold tied me to you

Peter smiled as he listened to your melodic and poetic words.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind

For the ones who broke my heart

Now I live life in the present.

Gold is the color of the leaves

When I'll show you around Centennial Park

Hell, what a journey but it brought me heaven

He looked forward to when you took him to your safe place. Again.

Time, wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies

And it's cool, darling, with me

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

You finished the song, let out a breath of relief, and drummed your nails on the guitar gently before setting it down next to you and picking up your notebook. Then you paused and Peter knew why. You sensed him and your eyes widened as you whipped your head around to look for him.

Now’s your chance, he thought, taking off his mask and walking into view.

"Peter…!" You chimed as you set down your notebook and got off the table. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Peter pressed his lips together. Here goes nothing. Actually, it’s everything. "(Y/N)...I have something to tell you."

"Okay…" you responded gingerly as you crossed your arms over yourself with your brows pulled together with a concerned look on your face. You must have sensed his nervousness.

Peter walked over to the table throwing his backpack down and setting the suitcase on the table. He quickly fiddled with the latches, forced them open, and then turned it towards you. You looked at it to see a scrapbook, picture frames, polaroids, and other items that you recognized from…your dreams. Your eyes widened.

"Peter…?" You looked up at him wondrously.

"I know Ghost Stories is your favorite Coldplay album and Lover is your favorite Taylor Swift album.”

You looked at him confused.

“I know you can't get a night of proper sleep unless you drink a cup of tea mixed with milk and honey and you need something to hold while sleeping, specifically, Starky, your wolf plush that you named after your family and the Starks from Game of Thrones. I know your favorite character from Game of Thrones is Lyanna Stark because of the quote 'You saw her beauty but not the iron underneath' from the books and that's the meaning of the blue roses on your tattoo. You also asked Steve to help you with the drawing years ago.”

Your expression turned to shock as you kept looking at him frozen.

“I know that you hate messy spaces and people handing you things because your dad was the same way. I know that you have to pet every cat you come across and that you like dark content and media because it reminds you of who and what you're fighting for and you fear being so out of touch with reality because you're extremely privileged.”

You blink rapidly as you process what is happening at the moment.

“I know that you love playing the guitar and you write songs. It's like your diary where you can properly express yourself because you wish your life was a musical because you're secretly a theater nerd. And you love Hamilton and Six. And Disney movies. And you love listening to the SMASH soundtrack. It’s one of the things you were shy about telling anyone about.”

You press your lips together as your expression softened and your eyes glossed over.

“I know that you love movies and that you have a huge crush on Anakin Skywalker, which I always found concerning by the way. Like…everyone finds that concerning. Ned and I had a conversation about it yesterday. You also hate the recent Star Wars trilogy but you continue to hate-watch it with me because it's something that we did together and as long as we were together, you didn't care what we watched.”

You sniffled softly, listening to him go on.

“I know that you love cold weather because you love the feeling of it on your skin because it reminds you that you're alive and human. You love Edgar Allen Poe and Shakespeare because you love Shakespeare's humor and Poe's dark romanticism. And although you deeply despise magic you love a good fantasy novel. And your book boyfriends are Draco Malfoy and Aaron Warner. And I'm not getting any further into that because I should not be this jealous of fictional characters.”

You let out a choked laugh.

“You have sensory sensitivity so you hate loud noises, bright lights, and feeling things on your hands. And it only worsened when you gained these spider powers that we share.”

You nodded softly and put a hand over your mouth to keep in your sob that was threatening to escape.

“(Y/N),” He walked up to you and gently cradled your face as his own eyes glossed over. “ We….we were in love....deeply and truly and I...fucked it all up and I still don't know if I regret it or not because you have grown into this amazing and beautiful person that I am still in love with....deeply and truly. And five years is a long time I know but...I wanted you to live your life without having to worry about me and be able to focus on yourself.”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a second like he was deciding on his next words carefully.

“When your dad died ...I could tell that you would have been in a really dark place if I wasn't there to help distract you from it. And you know what? It was the same for me too. But we never really worked through it on our own. We became each other's distractions. And I wanted to come to you five years ago, but I made the impulsive decision to let you go so you could heal, grow, and explore life I know that's not a decision I should make for you and I'm so sorry, (Y/N/N), I'm so, so, so, so sorry-"

You couldn’t take it anymore and you grabbed his face and kissed him deeply and passionately before he could continue babbling. Peter froze a moment but then matched the energy of your kiss as his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him.

The kiss was much more desperate but just as passionate as the day before. And there was no one here to interrupt you. It was just the two of you and your passion running wild for each other.

Peter wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pulled back for a moment and he chased the kiss instinctively not wanting to part just yet. He looked at you with hooded eyes and you both catching your breath because you both forgot that breathing during a kiss is essential.

You smiled softly and leaned your forehead on his as said barely in a whisper. "You finally admit you’re the faceless boy,” you sniffled as you met his gaze. “Idiot. You could’ve told me sooner that you’re the guy in my dreams..."

“I’m sorry…” Peter blushed and gulped softly before asking, "Can I also be the guy in your reality?"

You giggled. “There you go flirting again.”

“And I’m still being serious,” he smirked softly.

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your smile grew. “About damn time you asked me.”

Peter smiled that charming smile you loved so much as he tasted your lips again and your senses continued to bloom within the both of you.

You had so many questions and Peter was expecting that. He was honest and didn't hide anything from you when you asked.

He started by explaining everything that happened and why nobody could remember him.

You repeated it back to him to clarify that you heard everything correctly.

"I'm not sure what pisses me off more, honestly."

"I think all of it pisses you off."

"You're right, it does. And you tried to get everyone to forget that you were Spiderman but you accidentally messed up Strange's spell and it caused a tear in the multiverse? And there were other Peter Parkers? And their villains were here? Wait, did you say Norman Osborn killed your Aunt May?!"

"Not our Norman Osborn," Peter explained. "Ours hasn't done anything yet. I've been keeping an eye on him."

You rubbed your temple and took a deep breath. "That's a lot to process. I think I hate magic again."

After that, he showed you all of the things in the suitcase. He started with the scrapbook that you both made together. It had a red cover and black pages that were filled with drawings, cute words, and pictures of the two of you. The front of it read "Our Story."

There was a tic tac toe game page that read "You Won My Heart" where you both were bored one day and played a game of tic tac toe. You put hearts over each winning line and taped it nicely into the scrapbook. There was another page that read "Our Soundtrack" with different songs written under it. The page was filled with music-themed doodles. Some pages marked your firsts and different highlighting events and you took it all in as you flipped through the pages.

Peter was leaning his head on your shoulder as he also looked at each page. He has looked over this scrapbook on his loneliest days and he memorized it front to back.

He half expected you to say something witty like "We're so cringe for this" or "This is so corny but I kinda love it" but you didn't. You were studying it with soft eyes as you ran your fingers over different parts of the pages and smiled softly. Sometimes you would ask a question about a certain page and Peter would answer.

You came across a page that read "Things I love about Peter" with a list.

"Hmm let's see if this still stands," you teased. "One, pretty smile: true. Two, genius: also true. Three, Kind-hearted: very true. Four, Short King: also very true and adorable. Five, nerdy and geeky: love that. Six, hair: agreed." You skimmed down the rest of the list. "Wow, you're literally my type."

Peter smiled smugly. "I know."

You giggled in response. "Confidence is sexy on you."

"I thought I was conceited?"

"It's different, you're my boyfriend now."

His heart fluttered at that.

"I mean, I'm no Aaron Warner or anything." He teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Let me explain something to you," you tapped his forehead. "What I like in fantasy and what I like IRL are two different things. In fantasy, I like the dark, brooding bad boys because they're written by women. They're meant to cater to my deep and dark desires personified into my fictionalized self. In real life, I like guys like you. The sweet-hearted cuties from the start." You smiled at him as he looked at you. "So don't worry yourself over men who don't exist. Especially Anakin Skywalker. The actor was just cute and I have a thing for masks."

"Trust me, I know."

You giggled softly and turned the page where it was a list called "Things I Love About (Y/N)". You paused and looked at it.

"Let's see if this still stands," Peter stated with a playful tone. "One, prettiest girl in the world: yep. Two, outspoken and not afraid to stand up to bullies: very true. Three, genius: also true. Four: hard exterior, soft interior: eh, you softened up. More approachable now. "

You snorted in response.

"Five, geek, weeb: still true. Six, talented: extremely true. Shall I keep going?"

You giggled. "You're making my teeth hurt."

"You have phenomenal dental health, you'll live."

You threw your head back and laughed before looking at him. He was looking at you lovingly. You pressed your lips together and looked at the scrapbook shyly.

"Thank you," you started. "For telling me everything."

You felt his presence closer to you and looked back at him to see his face inches away from yours. You met his gaze before he leaned in to kiss you deeply and you responded by kissing back and closing your eyes. His hand softly landed on your cheek and he could feel the warmth of your face and the feeling of love and something else through his senses. you set the scrapbook off to the side and moved yourself to sit facing him as you both deepened the kiss.

He pulls back after a moment.

"Sorry," he said lowly. "I…I just had to make sure that this is real…that you're real."

“I should be the one saying that,” you grinned. “I’ve been the one with dreams.”

“Touche.”

You giggled in response and kissed him again.

You both spent most of the day in and watching movies as you cuddled on the couch. You lent him a pair of joggers and a Joy Division band tee shirt to wear instead of him walking around in his spider suit. You guys ordered pizza and tacos and then went back to watching whatever you guys felt like watching. Peter was lying back on the couch while you were lying on top of him with your head on his chest and your legs entangled together. His hand would stroke your back lightly every once in a while and it lulled you to sleep a couple of times. That, and the sound of his heartbeat in your ears.

"(Y/N)," Peter called to you softly.

Your eyes fluttered open and noticed that the movie you guys were watching had ended. You looked up sleepily at Peter who was smiling down at you.

"Hm?" You hummed in question.

Cute, he thought. "I have to go patrol."

"Huh?" You asked and looked at the time. Five Thirty. "Jeez. I didn't realize…"

"It's okay," he kissed your forehead longingly for a moment and you closed your eyes at the feeling. "I can come back after."

You pout and then shove your face back into his firm chest. You didn't want him to leave.

"No."

Peter chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. "Okay, princess, no more pouting."

He knew pet names like that are your weakness. He could feel the heat of your face on his chest and he smirked.

"Princess," he sang.

"Stop," you whined into his chest shyly while the heat on your face widened which caused Peter to laugh softly.

"You know," Peter started. "You could come with me. People miss you, y'know. Silk and Spidey, Spidey and Silk. I get asked about you a lot."

You sighed and slowly sat up to where you were sitting in his lap. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively as you leaned your head on his shoulder "I…don't do that anymore."

You knew that people wondered what happened to some of the Avengers, and you were one of them that people often wondered about, especially since Spiderman was still out there protecting the little guy.

But one day you just stopped and people wondered what happened to the beloved spiderhero.

"I meant to ask,” Peter started as he looked at you. “Why did you stop?"

You looked at Peter and chewed your lip nervously. Many reasons made you hang up the suit but there were some that really caused you to stop. And you really didn’t want to talk about it.

"Well, for one, I wanted to help Pepper raise Morgan. Two, I have to focus on the company. And Three," you closed your eyes as you thought of the chapter in your life that you never wanted to speak of ever again. "I…made some big mistakes. I…hurt people in…so many different ways and I just don't see myself as a hero anymore because of it. When I was needed most, I let everyone around me down.” You took another deep sigh. ”Not much of a hero thing to do."

Flashes of the past enter into your mind and Peter could feel the guilt, pain, and fear of your senses stirring within him. It was strong and he didn't like it. Something told him there was more to the story but he didn't want to pry. Instead, he kissed your forehead comfortingly.

"Sometimes even the greatest of heroes make the biggest of mistakes."

"I doubt that," you replied. “I kind of like…really fucked up.”

“The fact that you feel guilty about it shows that you aren’t a bad person,” he began. "Do you remember when you first got your powers and what the first thing you did was?"

You remember that day clearly like it happened yesterday.

"I saved a van full of women and girls from getting kidnapped."

"Yeah,” Peter smiled. “ Still in your ballet outfit. Bright pink with your makeshift mouth mask that you quickly made out of your extra pair of leggings.”

You looked up at him.

“It went viral on YouTube and TikTok,” he continued. “You didn't hesitate a second."

You looked at your hands and played with your fingers.

Peter kept going. "You said in your expo speech. With great power comes great responsibility.

"My dad told me that when I was little," you replied with a small smile. “‘Where there is great power there is great responsibility, where there is less power there is less responsibility, and where there is no power there can, I think, be no responsibility’ said by Winston Churchill. And ‘the more privilege you have, the more opportunity you have. The more opportunity you have, the more responsibility you have said by Noam Chomsky,” You raised your hands and looked at your fingertips, where your webs come from. “He told me to focus on the line that resonated with me the most and it was ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ and I’ve tried to live my life by that ever since.”

Ah, Pete thought as he ran a hand through his curls. “Aunt May told me that exact same thing moments before she died."

You looked at him vaguely remembering him telling you that once before. A vague memory flashed in your mind of you holding a crying Spiderman in your arms alongside Ned, MJ, and Celina in the pouring rain. The memory brought a frown to your face.

"When you have this power and then the bad things happen, then it's on us. You knew that immediately. Whether it stemmed from a hero complex or whatever, doesn’t matter. You understood that you had a responsibility. I had to learn it the hard way. And it cost my Uncle Ben’s life."

You looked up at him sadly and a bit of shock in your expression. You felt the guilt and sadness flowing through him.

He continued.

"You're a hero, (Y/N), even when you think you aren't good enough to be one,” he leaned his forehead on yours. “And you'll always be a hero to me."

Your heart swelled at his words and you pressed your lips together. “You always know the right things to say.”

“And I mean every word.”

You smiled and pecked his lips softly and he pecked yours back before you removed yourself from his lap so he could get up.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I’ll be waiting here for you when you get back.”

He nodded in response. “Okay.”

He got up, got changed, and walked out onto the launched pad for when your dad would put on the Iron suit. You walked out with him as you wrapped your cardigan around your shoulders.

He turned and looked back at you with his mask in his hands. His eyes glistened in the sunset as the wind danced through his curls softly. He smiled softly at you.

“See you later?”

“Mhm,” you responded with a smirk. “Actually show up on time this time, yeah? Because if I have to go looking for you again after another five years I’ll-”

“Kick my ass into another dimension?”

You squint your eyes at him suspiciously. “Yeah…”

“You told me that before,” He said with a chuckle. “Five years ago, Statue of Liberty, moments before…the memory blip, as you call it. But I kissed the words out of your mouth.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms over yourself. “Maybe I should act on it.”

“Maybe you should,” Peter teased and put his mask on. “You gotta catch me first.”

“You’re just trying to get me to patrol with you.”

“Maybe,” he sang. “Maybe not. You’ll have to get it out of me.”

“Goodbye, Peter Parker,” you laughed. “Go, before a bank gets robbed or something.”

“Wow, trying to get rid of me? A bit ago you were begging me not to go. I didn’t take you for the wishy-washy type but hey a lot can happen in five years.”

Your jaw dropped in total shock. “You know what-” You began to speed walk towards him with a playful smirk. “Come here, Smartass!”

He laughed as you chased him around the platform before he ran towards the edge and you stopped in front of him slightly out of breath. He lifted his mask to reveal the bottom half of his face and he kissed your cheek and your face burned once again like it had been doing all day.

“I’ll come back on time, I promise.”

“You better,” you smiled at him. “Now go be a hero.”

He smiled back at you. “And you continue being mine.”

Your face softened as your heart beamed and he turned and jumped off the platform and swung across the city.

Tags:

@chrisevans-realwife @riordanness @peterdarlingg @thecrystalclarity @brckenmemories @paleprincesssxo @blackcanary130 @kindlover @i-have-no-life-charlie @melodicheauxxlovesfood

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7grandmel · 8 days

Text

Todays rip: 19/04/2024

i love(d) you

Season 6 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume FF Also on: Now That's What I Call Quality! 3

Ripped by vvsvlogs

youtube

Requested by oetaboy and an anonymous reader! @oetaboy (Ask Box)

I'm sure this rip's been a long time coming for many - I know it has for me. I've had i love(d) you sitting in my drafts as far back as in March, but truthfully it's...daunting, to write about. Requested by two readers. Close to 200 thousand views on YouTube, and recently featured prominently in popular Clone Hero YouTuber Acai's "The Quality of SiIvaGunner" series. And the rip itself being an emotional gutpunch in a season filled with them, from a ripper who's already gutpunched me plenty with Wham! Into Dreams and The Paragoomba and the Wiggler. vvsvlogs, Vivi, I ask this with the most sincere gratitude possible - why must you do this to me?

Minecraft as a game has its emotional hooks in at least two generations of people - that much I think we're all aware of. A sandbox filled with endless possibilities, community, friends, individual stories of survival or of great creative endeavors, all wrapped in C418's hauntingly beautiful score, one I've discussed many times before with Fell From a High Place (Reprise), M-O-O-G City and Every Mob Wants To Rule My World. All of these rips are beautiful, yet they're all aiming to play with Minecraft's sound in some way - the former two rips are arrangement of its music with other games' instrumentation, and the latter rip is a melodyswap playing Everybody Wants To Rule The World. They all play on my senses in their own ways, they're all rightfully impressive - but nothing hits quite the same as Minecraft's own music, on its own terms. i love(d) you isn't aiming to impress or amaze - but it lands a full-on critical hit on one's heart through leveraging everything that's kept Subwoofer Lullaby alive for so many years.

I've talked plenty about my musical illiteracy, and so I hope it doesn't come as a surprise that I've never really listened to world-renowed singer Billie Eilish. She's been on the radio, I've heard Bad Guy, but it was never a name I gave much more thought beyond seeing her discussed online from time to time. You can imagine the absolute awe I was in when I clicked on i love(d) you when it first went up, already expecting an emotional hit due to the Minecraft song used, only to get goosebumps from Eilish's vocals alone. i love you is the penultimate song from Eilish's debut studio album, the very same that Bad Guy was featured on - yet compared to that track's bass-heavy, almost seductive energy, i love you feels remarkably personal, with little more than an acoustic guitar and piano accompanying the openly emotional vocal performance. It's sincere in a way I don't hear enough music be, as if a diary translated into song, much the same emotion that Because I Love You conveyed yet with even greater magnitude due to the vocals in play.

i love(d) you, uploaded for 2022's valentines day, wields both of these forms of love - the connections many of us have to one of the most impactful games ever made, and the unfiltered emotion of i love you - to create something unabashedly beautiful. Mashups aren't a novel concept, mashups are nothing new - yet one glance at the comments tells me that I'm not alone in finding this rip in particular to have struck an incredibly sensitive nerve. Because there's a beauty to Minecraft that I think many of us oft forget about. It's a game that we all cherish, yet also one that's very easy to have left behind: we have adult responsibilities, we have school, we have other, shorter, more concise games, we have social media, we have friends, we have blogs...the solemn beauty of playing the game itself is, for many viewers like myself, not much more than a memory, something that can feel ever so difficult to recreate without feeling as if something's wrong.

We...I'm...not a kid anymore.

There was nothing about i love(d) you's concept that necessitated it to be more than just the mashup. There rip had no need for visuals that'd help convey the edit like with Plantasia 2 or Luna, mi Amor, no need to tickle the funnybone like with SUNGORE or the hundreds of other YTPMV rips on the channel. Yet, halfway through the rip, to the tune of Eilish's soothingly reverberating vocals, the background begins to change, not to a bit, not to a reference nor easter egg...but to Minecraft. To where all of this attachment began - to a far-off view of the game's beautiful landscapes as the sun begins to rises. That digital world that looks different for every player, yet the same in everyone's hearts - that place that, no matter how many years pass, how long its been since we last played, we all love. Its impact different to everyone, yet the feeling unanimous. It drives home how well the mashup works not just as a mixture of two deeply emotional songs, but as music tied to a shared experience: all of our Minecraft worlds looked different, all of our personal lives look different, but we've all played the game, and we've all had affection for it.

Every moment I spend thinking about this rip aches in some way. It's been well past two years since it was first uploaded, yet it continues to follow me as the years go on, my mouse drawn to it any time it reappears in my recommendations. In being featured on 2024's Now That's What I Call Quality! 3, I think the team holds much the same sentiment - even as the months pass, i love(d) you is the kind of rip that'll never fall out of favor, never stop meaning things to people. And realizing that it was made by vvsvlogs, the very same vvsvlogs who's already made me far too emotionally vulnerable on here twice before, has only made it mean that extra bit more to me.

I'm not a kid anymore. I know that. But I'll always be grateful to SiIvaGunner, the people behind it, and those who follow it along with me, for being able to bring me back to that state of mind when I least expect it.

Thank you.

#todays siivagunner #season 6 #siivagunner #siiva #vvsvlogs #rip visuals #minecraft #minecraft music #c418 #subwoofer lullaby #minecraft alpha #minecraft beta #minecraft art #mojang #mineblr #billie eilish #acoustic #when we all fall asleep where do we go #Youtube

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

Text

Watch Your Step

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Note: love you all.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍭🍭🍭

You stare at the shelf. The selection is limited, much like everything else in this town. It’s good. It means no one important will be around. At least, you thought so.

Your mind wanders back to the cafe and the man who sits daily with demands that only Birdy serves him. And that other man, the one who walked in and turned the air frigid with just his appearance. Coco said he had a lot of questions. Well, so do you, like who the fuck is he?

Ah, fuzzy peaches. That’s what Birdy asked for. You think of grabbing some of the sour cherries but you really shouldn’t. You’re certain your careless work time snacks are starting to catch up to you. You certainly feel some extra jiggle in your ass.

Right, well, you’ll forego the sweets but you should get something for Coco. She’s been… stressed. You’re all on edge but lately, she’s been wound tight.

You go to the rack of chocolate bars and consider the various labels. Your vision blurs as your mind wanders. You don’t know how she did it for years. Birdy almost spent a whole year with her psycho and you, a couple months, but Coco, she was in it. She was resigned to it.

Now she’s like a dog let out of the pound. She’s lost and confused but too proud to admit it.

Maybe you are too.

You settle on salted caramel but as you reach for the bar, another hand appears and smacks into your own clumsily. You back away in surprise and face the man as he gives an apologetic look. You scrunch your nose at the trim of hair above his lip. It must be a popular style around here. You thought for sure that jackass at the cafe was the only one tacky enough to support a tash stache.

“Sorry, I guess we had the same thought,” he chuckles and plucks out the salted caramel bar, “here.”

He offers the chocolate. You eye it and take it from him. You wiggle it with a dry smirk and turn on your heel. You strut towards the counter and put down your wares as the cashier rings you through.

You thank her and take the candy. Is there not enough sugar at the cafe? You shake your head and march out of the store.

The winter brings with it early evenings and a bitter chill in the air. It’ll be a strange Christmas but the holidays have never been very special for you. You stroll past the red and green storefronts. Coco wants to do candy cane hot chocolate as the special. You told her to do whatever, you don’t know much about food besides what tastes good.

You stop at the hobby shop. Half thrift and half novelty. There’s a used acoustic guitar in the window with flowers painted on the body. No, save your money. Even these snacks are a drain on the pot. You told the girls, you gotta be smart. Be ready to leave at any moment and moving is easier with money.

“You play?” A deep timbre permeates your mindless gazing.

“Little,” you answer dully as you peek over your shoulder. It’s the same man. “Don’t like being followed.”

“I’m not following you,” he tilts his head.

“No?”

“I’m walking in the same direction. Just happened to catch up.”

“Sure,” you cross your arms and raise your chin defiantly. “Well then, go on. Be on your merry way.”

His eyes twinkle as he watches you. He scoffs. He pushes back his shoulders, emphasizing his broad silhouette. He’s a big guy but you’re wily. You dealt with worse in New York.

“Sweet tooth?” He nods to the wrapper poking out of your jacket pocket.

“Nosy?” You counter.

His jaw ticks and his eyes drift over, “you must not be from around here.”

“Is it any of your business?”

“Ha, I only say that because the locals tend to be a lot nicer. You seem like the city type.”

“Oh, and you seem like the dumb type. Not interested.” You sigh and tuck your hands into your pocket and twirl away, “if you follow me another block, you won’t get to wherever you’re going.”

He chortles as you step to the curb, “frisky.”

You glance back from the corner of your eye as you cross the street. His shadow is unmoving as he remains where you left him. You squeeze the heavy metal shape in your pocket. If he so much as takes a step towards you, you won’t hesitate to unfold the blade.

#dark!fic #sweet treats #au #august walker #dark!august walker #dark august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x candy #mission impossible: fallout

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sirenologyyy · 1 year

Text

ATWOW MODERN AU!

( a.k.a my hot take on all the teens if they were humans)

part 1 part 2

neteyam

- I cannot stress this enough this man listens to Frank Ocean LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, if given the chance to inject his lyrics into his veins Neteyam would be the one to stick the needle in himself

- plays sports, (soccer for 6 years and swim team for 3) people think his dad encouraged him and his brother but they joined willingly, it was their mother who wanted them to join afterschool activities because she does not know what to do with that much energy when she already has Tuk bouncing from wall to wall

- wore those thick Harry Potter glasses to school before he learned about contacts

- wants to take up filmmaking when he's older, already has a YouTube channel where he posts the most innane vlogs with the messiest layouts and time cuts but his subscribers eat it up everytime

- wants to produce music too, all of his siblings are all musically trained (as in took voice lessons and music lessons as children as afterschool activities because again, Neytiri deserves a break plus they inherited her singing voice and she did not want it to go to waste as she should) everyone of them knows how to play at least 2 instruments. Neteyam plays the piano, the drums, and acoustic guitar. He's also one of those people who makes music from zippers and glass clinking and the finished product is annoyingly good

- extremely early or 5 minutes late to things there is no in between.

- is left handed

- used to like lego as a child, his dad got mad at him because the pieces would stick to the wheels of his wheelchair and would threaten to melt them down into coasters

- loves everything mango flavoured

- wired earbuds >>> headphones

- this man studies his ASS OFF and it PAYS OFF, with being on two varsity teams, the oldest brother, trying to get into an Ivy League school, and trying to maintain his hobbies he always has free time. It's so weird because his schedule is so packed and you see him chilling on his bed all the time like how does he do it

- was the password child (emphasis on was)

- has a huge ass sweet tooth I SWEAR (you'd never even expect it)

- his jersey number is 12

- THIS. MAN. PULLS. He doesn't even try to but he's a gentleman, good with kids, smart, active in school, good in sports, well-spoken, what more could you want? Plus he's got his Dad's charm and his Mom's charisma, everybody's hallway crush, you can see a throng of girls crowding the bleachers everytime the soccer team or the swim team have practice. (Most of them were there for Neteyam, and he says hello to everyone of them like the clueless son of a bitch he is)

- definitely does skin care (he has a 5 step regimen he does religiously)

- introverted extrovert

- learned how to drink at home (like the good boy he is) but can take 6 straight shots without making a face

- is always on his little sister's YouTube channel as a guest, always starts the video by addressing her brother by his yt handle instead of Neteyam. (they make slime and do unboxing videos and he dosent always say it but he enjoys them)

- his dad would bring him to boy's night with his Marine friends so Neteyam could get used to how rowdy his dad's friends were (my dad did the same thing with me that's literally the best I could explain it) Neytiri gets mad at him for it because she dosent want Neteyam to be around those kind of people

- has had 1 serious girlfriend before but she broke things off with him because she felt too trapped and started getting feelings for another guy (she never told him the last part but it was implied) since then he's only entertained a few people but he never got into another serious relationship :((

- almost barely recites in class but he is ALWAYS that one guy that saves the class when the teacher asks the hard questions

- he wasn't the type to go out of his way and make new friends when he was little plus they never matterred to him, Neytiri would often worry about him but Jake said he'd be fine

- has the neatest room and the messiest at the same time BCS HE HAS AN ASSLOAD OF POSTERS AND STICKERS ON HIS WALL, hangs up lightsabers, world maps, banners of his preferred college, used to hang awards but took them down so Lo'ak wouldn't have to feel bad

- has strong alcohol tolerance (Sully genes fr fr)

- taught himself how to fix his own hair, it takes him hours so that's why if he wants to try out a new hairstyle he wakes up at 3 just to devote 3 more hours into fixing his hair (he'd be doing his hair in front of the mirror at like 4:15 and he stumbles upon Lo'ak looking groggy af so Neteyam asks him if he'd been dragged awake by a tractor and Lo'ak goes I haven't slept yet and left)

- hates math but gets the questions on the take home sheets correct EVERYTIME, would complain on the workload but would get it done in like 2 hours. He loves Biology and History, still hates math, reads classic books even though he dosent understand shit, has a love hate relationship with social studies after this one time when he was 10 and had a nosebleed WHILE presenting in class.

- oh also did I mention this man is a photographer?? BECAUSE HE IS A PHOTOGRAPHER. Has an arsenal of janky film cameras to professional dlsr cameras on a shelf in his room. His pride and joy.

- always has to be doing something with his hands

- saves money and dosent like to ask for allowance but everytime they get a ride from their dad he slips them all 50 bucks like they're doing a drug deal

- his dad's a stickler abt posture (because of his spinal injury) he hated it when he was younger but now he's older he finds himself reminding his siblings (kiri surprisingly) unconsciously

- you can bring him to his mom's native country and leave him there and he'd be fine because EVERYONE WOULD THINK HE'S A LOCAL WITH HOW GOOD HIS SPANISH IS

lo'ak

- is more focused on music than Neteyam is because if you'd be handing around an electric guitar Neteyam would start playing the solo to Beer by Itchyworms, Kiri would start playing Moon Song by Phoebe Bridgers, and Lo'ak would decline BUT if forced he would shred the hell out of that guitar by playing Layla by Derek and the Dominoes

- draws a lot more too, Jake couldn't see how good Lo'ak really was until he won an award at school. (Jake found himself looking at that award on the Sully display case in their living room often)

- does graffiti art, skateboards, drinks monster on a daily basis, the stereotypical sk8r boy we all know and love (avril lavigne is typing) although he does not like monster he liked red bull more and everyone knows this

- wore a crop top to school once (no one noticed because he always wears baggy clothes)

- could be a straight A student if he cared (his parents remind him that everyday) likes biology too because his sister likes plants and his mom was a biology major, hates calculus and trigonometry. (Was the child that would cry on the dining table while his dad is this 🤏🏼 close to popping a nerve from repeating the problem to him over and over until he gets it)

- shaved off one side of his head after an argument with his dad and did not regret it

- if there's a new soccer line in Nike he's clearing the shelves out in no time

- has dyscalculia and gets Neteyam to help him (he never asks Neteyam just knows) He'd never get mad at his baby bro for taking hours upon hours on 1 single equation, but Lo'ak would get mad at himself that's why he's a visual learner

- put him in a room with boys his age and his littlest sister and he'd still go to his sister

- on the soccer team just like Neteyam, also on the swim team once they moved closer to their school because swim practice takes longer than soccer and they'd have to wait extra long for the bus

- when they'd visit their mother's province he'd teach the little kids in the neighborhood how to play soccer :,)

- hates that he's always Tuk's practice dummy for make up but lets her do it anyway *cue Lo'ak running away from a 7 year old in a tutu clutching her makeup brushes and eyeshadow palettes*

- is a night owl... enough said

- listened to Kanye West bcs of his dad's marine friends but heard about the issue at the VMAs and has been a swiftie since then (don't tell tsireya that also his favorite album is definitely reputation)

- is always late to things HE REALLY TRIES TO BE EARLY but Eywa says no

- would always be in that group of boys that play ice ice water during recess and lunch (they never get him because bros faster than speedy gonzales)

- I feel like aside from Jake seeing Lo'ak as the younger version of himself (brash, immature, impulsive) he was always in and out of the hospital because of injuries and medical conditions. Pretty much the second foundation as to why Lo'ak and Jake have such a sensitive relationship

- loves rice meals more than his siblings do, he will not function properly without rice in his system (he got that from Neytiri)

- makes ur mom jokes CONSTANTLY he does it so often that his other siblings are spiritually, mentally, and physically incapable of making that joke to others

- the pickiest eater (pickier than tuk but he was the 10+ allergy kid growing up so his parents constantly get him to try foods he was allergic to before but he'd just throw a fit)

- knows how to patch up wounds better than most nurses because of how many times he fell off his skateboard tryna show off to girls in the skatepark (or just in general)

- EVERYONE WAS SHOCKED THAT HE COPPED TSIREYA. As in Hina Tsireya Maihoa, student body vice president, it girl, must I go on? Anyways she is WAY out of his league not even Lo'ak could comprehend he got the finest girl in the school to fall for him

- always referred to as Neteyam's younger brother :((

- would literally dislocate his knee to ensure a win for their soccer team

- the type to carry around lighters to play with them

- if he's angry he resorts to drawing or taking a jog for several hours (both involving very loud music)

- was scared that he couldn't grow taller than Kiri or Neteyam when he was 12 but now he's taller than Kiri and 2 inches away from towering over Neteyam

- always carries around pads (shh) and hair ties in his bag

- listens to The Weeknd the same way Neteyam listens to Frank Ocean. Endlessly.

- hates loud places unless he's the one making all the noise

- used to want to become a pilot when he was younger like his Aunt Trudy before she died

- loves sour candy I mean LOVES sour candy (he and neytiri could go through those jumbo value sour patch kids and would not need water)

- developed a habit of scratching himself when he's nervous or on the verge of a panic attack (he's getting better now that he's been open about it to his siblings and now that he's got tsireya)

- has a blue takis obsession

- collects stickers for his skateboard and his room (he got that habit from neteyam)

- dosent fold and prefers to hanger, he'd be caught DEAD before he ever folded a shirt

- hates bell peppers (they just couldn't get him to eat them, the reason? Unknown)

kiri

- GAY. SO. SO. SO GAY.

- would have crystals in her room because let's be fucking fr they work like a CHARM she could get anyone she wanted (she really could though she pretty af) but chooses not to (because then the entire highschool would be on their knees)

- forced herself to have crushes on guys in elementary just so the other girls wouldn't find them weird for not liking anyone

- when she reached middle school she came out as bisexual and everyone made fun of her for it, would always go home crying with neteyam and lo'ak who had split open knuckles (half the time)

- terrified as fuck that jake and neytiri wouldn't accept her but then they did??? And she was like holy shit??? Because Neytiri was raised in a very very religious household and that gave little Kiri heart palpitations every time they went to the mall and a gay couple would pass them by and Neytiri gives them weird looks...

- her room is full of plants but we all know that (she may or may not have named all of them)

- always fighting over the aux with Lo'ak and Tuk (either it's gunna be another round of Kyoto, Reminder, or Girl in the Mirror)

- always layers her jewelry, they could be getting McDonald's drive thru and she'd be wearing 7 bracelets on each hand 4 necklaces on her neck

- would fucking OBLITERATE you in scrabble, they're literally just that comprehensively literate

- is ambidextrous

- joined theatre for shits and giggles but ended up loving it so much that she's the president now

- is the last one to die in a horror movie (final girl shit)

- always volunteered to bring home the class pet

- would always get bullied for her skin colour too, growing up with their dark skinned siblings, UNTIL JAKE WHEELS INTO THE ELEMENTARY SCHLOL BUILDING ONE DAY MAKING THOSE 9 YEAR OLDS QUIVER IN THEIR LIL BOOTIES

- she was the 'English teacher' gay

- once she reached highschool she started becoming more open with her sexuality and also came out of her shell a little more, she volunteered in animal shelters and that's where she met Tsireya and they've been besties ever since 🤞🏼

- makes cooking videos on tiktok, did that salt prank on both Jake and Neytiri (they have been reluctant to try anything Kiri has made since then)

- would give you 20 bucks if you needed it no exceptions (just pay her back most of it you'll be fine)

- if you wake up at 4 in the morning to use the bathroom and pass by her room and see them trimming their hair you didn't...

- also never initiated fights as a kid except this one time where they were told to make a diorama of their family (ya'll know where I'm going with this) some kids caught on that she wasn't exactly related to Jake and Neytiri, only that they took them under their wing when her biological mother Grace died, anywho they said that Grace 'took one good look at Kiri and decided to pass away because who wanted someone as deformed as her as a daughter' she had been sharpening a pencil at the time and let's just say she found a better use with the graphite than solving another math equation

- lit incense once and Jake thought she was smoking a joint

- on that note she always smells earthy and floraly

- she comes prepared or not prepared at all. Either their sage green cross bottle bag has 3 different kinds of gum, an extra charging cord, and alcohol wipes, or her tote bag has receipts, spare change, and tissue from this fancy Italian place they went to 2 nights prior

- has dry lips and peels them

- makes their own jewelry

- is a morning person through and through but she sleeps at ungodly hours of the night and still look more well-rested than their brothers who get like 8 hours of sleep AT BEST, meanwhile Kiri be out here making whole ass breakfast quiches and onion and potato foccacia

- has tried writing plays before (they never end up finishing them but the planning is what excites them the most) the only person she ever allows to read it is lo'ak, not that she dosent trust neteyam it's that him and her just click in a different way

- bi, lesbian, bi, unlabeled, bi, lesbian until she met Rotxo (starts giggling like a maniac) when he was trying to grab a 4lb weight on top of the shelf and got startled by a projectile being pelted at him and drops the weight on Kiri's head. He rushes them into the infirmary and stayed there with her until lunch time (he missed 3 classes which he's never EVER done before), they ate lunch together in the clinic just the two of them, laughing so hard that peas started shooting out of Kiri's nose, making them laugh harder, but Kiri got sent home right after and lemme just say that Rotxo looked like a wounded puppy the rest of the day

- identifies as queer and are a demi girl

- tsireya and her would go for sunset drives all the fucking time, they'd order take out, park by the one larkspur tree by the lake and start dishing out on the school tea AND LEMME TELL YOU! TSIREYA. DOES. NOT. MISS. She's literally friends with everyone who was anyone in pandora high and the tea is ENDLESS

- whenever Neytiri takes Neteyam and Lo'ak out for grocery shopping (she likes having them around because they'd be obligated to bring the groceries with them while she goes to Sephora to buy some skin care and if they don't complain she'll buy them ice cream) that leaves Jake alone with the girls at home and they'd blast 2000's songs through their big ass speakers while they dance around the (still very dirty) living room in pajamas and they often forget to cook the rice because of it, they would always ALWAYS pull up Rihanna's superbowl performance and vibe to that while they hurry and clean the house because the 10 minute mark has started and Neytiri would be home ANY FUCKING MINUTE

- her and tsireya bond over lo'ak's quirks

I had too much fun with this... anyways that's it for the Sully siblings! I'm gunna be doing part 2 which covers our beloved Metkayina Triad <3 will probably make this into a hs series but who tf knows... stay tuned if you are!

#avatar the way of water #avatar modern au #avatar #lo'ak #neteyam #kiri #tuk #pandora #avatar the way of water soc med au #the sullys

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