#so i’m anticipating getting bit more over the coming weeks

[gretavangroupie]

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 18.2k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Lying, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Unprotected Sex.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

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

A/N: Hi everyone! Just popping in to let you know that Jules and I will be taking the next two weeks off of writing so that we can enjoy our upcoming Starcatcher shows! This means that there will not be a new chapter next week or the week after. Hopefully this chapter will hold you over until then, and build a little anticipation...

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

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS

HER POV

Your phone buzzing loudly on the nightstand wakes you in a frenzy, the night sweat making your hair stick to your face. Your eyes pop open to the sound as you roll toward it, reaching for it as quickly as possible. You tap the screen, silencing the alarm that is telling you it’s time to get up and get ready to leave for the airport. You roll back over to find Jake completely out, the sound of the alarm not phasing him in the least. Soft breath is leaving his lips, a faint snore rattling around in his chest as his hand rests softly on the edge of your pillow. 

You admire the softness of his features, how smooth his lips are, and the way his hair is fanning over his face. Your eyes travel over his shoulder and down his body until it disappears beneath the white sheets, the covers hanging low on his waist. You can feel his legs tangled with yours and it almost feels sinful to pull them away. The room is still a little dark, the sun just barely risen as it starts to peek through the curtains in the room. You know that you have an hour until you have to be downstairs with your suitcase, so you make the painful decision to pull yourself away from him. 

You gently untangle your legs from his and slide out of the soft, warm bed, unnoticed. You tiptoe into the bathroom and shut the door behind you, letting out the breath you were holding. You turn on the light and look at yourself in the mirror, seeing your streaked and smudged makeup and your disheveled hair. You take a minute to clean yourself up, running your fingers through your hair and gargling with the hotel mouthwash. You pee and wash your hands, turning off the light and quietly opening the door to sneak back into the room. 

As you walk back towards the bed you see Jake is awake, and leaning up on his elbows. You can tell he had just woken, a panicked look in his tired eyes. You stop just short of the bed, looking at him as he takes in the sight of you in his t-shirt. 

“Morning,” you smile, biting your lips together. 

A deep hum comes from his chest as his face softens, “Mmm, thought you snuck out on me, come get back in bed.”

Maybe five more minutes won’t hurt…

You walk around the front of the bed, watching him pull the sheets back to welcome you back into the warm cloud of luxury linens. 

“I wouldn’t just leave without saying anything,” you pause, “I thought you knew me better than that.”

He pulls you into him, wrapping the blankets around your back as he positions your head on his shoulder, humming deeply as he feels your body on his again. He lets out a content sigh, letting his fingers trace circles into your back. 

“I’d like to think I know you inside and out, now,” he quips. 

“Oh shut up, that's gross, it is seven in the morning,” you laugh, digging your fingers into his ribs. 

He runs his nose along your hairline as he laughs, “Did you sleep okay?”

“Apart from your snoring, yes…” you smile, moving the hair off of his face. 

He furrows his brows, “Snoring? If I was snoring I need to call my surgeon back, he was supposed to fix that.”

“I’m kidding. Kinda, you were snoring a tiny tiny bit when I got up, but I didn’t hear you all night,” you admit. 

“You’re up early…”

“My alarm woke me, we have to be downstairs and ready to get to the airport in like, forty-five minutes,” you say.

“Off to Paris…” he says, letting out a relaxed sigh. His eyes meet yours as a smile pulls across his lips. “You excited?”

“Actually yeah, I haven’t ever been,” you answer, letting your eyes linger on his lips. 

“Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it’s kinda shitty and dirty. But if you know the right places to go it can be fun, and the food is pretty good. I can make you a little cheat sheet, we have two days off while we’re there if you want me to show you a few places, oh actually there's this really fantastic restaurant I’m gonna take you to, you’ll love it,” he says, the words flowing out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

“Oh, you’re gonna take me?” you tease. 

“Yeah, I’ve earned another date, right?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“I think I’d like that,” you answer, kissing his thumb. “But, in order to do all of that, we have to get to Paris, which means we have to get up and I have to go back to my room and pack.”

“I know, I know. I just…” he pauses, his eyes flicking around your face, as he leans his face towards yours, “I’m glad you gave me another chance. Last night was…”

“I know…Me too,” you whisper, leaning into him. His lips meet yours, soft and warm, effectively quieting every loud thought screaming through your mind. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, pulling it away from your mouth just slightly before releasing it with a pop. His hand grips at your face, the evidence of his arousal pressing against your stomach as you whine. Suddenly it stops, and he pulls his lips from yours as he looks at you. 

“You are…incredible,” he smiles, “That should hold me over for a little while. At least until later.”

“Don’t get greedy on me now, Jake,” you taunt, slipping out of the sheets. 

You grab your dress from the floor and make a show of pulling his white t-shirt over your head. His eyes are trained on you as you stand naked in front of him, your chest bare and your nipples hard as his eyes zero in on them. 

“Come back to bed,” he begs. 

“Nope,” you laugh, pulling your dress over your head and sliding into your boots. “I can give you another kiss though.”

“Mmhm, mhmm, yeah, yeah, just… come over here…” he says, hoping to lure you back into the bed. 

You grab your phone and your purse and sling it over your shoulder as you kneel onto the bed where his perfect and desperately hot body is craving you beneath the sheets. You lean over and press your lips to his one more time as his hand slides up the back of your thigh. Just before it lands where he wants it to, you pull away and smooth out your dress. 

“See you downstairs in thirty?” you ask playfully. 

“Five more minutes,” he barters. 

“Later…” you pause, “Maybe.”

“Temptress,” he growls from his place in the bed.  

You nod and start to head towards the door catching his eyes one more time. “Just for you.”

JAKE POV

One last breath of the sheets that hold the smell of her perfume, and you’re regretfully pulling yourself from the mess of blankets to get ready for the day. Travel days are always a little restful, but at times can be more chaotic than anything. The one thing that will get you through today, though, is knowing that you’ll soon be visiting one of the most romantic cities on earth, with the new flame that’s entered your life in a whirlwind.

You stressfully cram all your things into your suitcase, making a mental note to visit the laundry room at the next hotel. The frantic nature of last night had the thought of packing up your stuff at the very end of your list of things to accomplish; taking care of the woman in your bed seemed to be just a bit more important than making sure you didn’t forget your toothbrush. 

Time is ticking, and you know you have mere minutes before you need to be downstairs. Then, like a flood of bad memories, you remember the texts that Isla sent you last night, rushing back to your already overstimulated brain. 

“Fuck. Fuck!!!” you shout just loudly enough to startle yourself, and you button the button on your jeans before unplugging your phone from the charger, balling the cord up in your fist. You bring up Isla’s text string, seeing all of the “horrible” things she had seen on Danny’s story be read back to you in real time. She always did have an eagle eye, noticing things that happened in the background before she ever really saw what was happening right in front of her. Ironic, really. You run your hand over your face as you hop up to quickly brush your teeth and finish packing. What do you even say? How do you even answer those texts? She isn’t wrong, but… she’s also most definitely not right. 

You have to call her. Let her bitch. Let her yell and scream like she always does, give her a half-assed explanation, and tell her that Josh had you to accompany the new runner on an errand. That’s what you’ll do. Why the anticipation of the phone call is giving you anxiety, you don’t really know. It’s fucked that she makes you feel this way. You wish she would just take the fucking hint, and get out of your house.

You try to shake the thoughts from your mind as you do a one-over of the room, making sure you haven’t left anything behind. Something catches the corner of your eye, a pile of red fabric tucked up underneath the bedskirt. You rush over and pick it up, finding it to be exactly what you suspected, Y/N’s red lace thong. She must have slipped it off in her sleep. You grin to yourself as you get a flashback of last night, seeing her ass and back so perfectly arched for you, the red lace standing out in the shadowy darkness of the room. 

You stuff it in the hidden inside pocket of your jacket, fully ready to give it back to her at the most appropriate time… or maybe not. 

You grab the handle of your suitcase and begin rolling it to the door, pulling your phone out to make the phone call that you’re absolutely dreading. You expect Isla to answer on the first ring, but when she doesn’t, and the third and fourth rings let you know she most likely isn’t going to answer, you feel a ginormous weight lifted directly off your shoulders. You tried. Not your fault she didn’t answer and you were getting directly on a plane. 

You finally make your way out of the lobby and to the vans parked out on the side lot, seeing that most everyone is taking their sweet time getting here this morning. You greet Paul and Danny and Corri, your eyes scanning around to see if you’ll catch a glimpse of Y/N in the bright orange morning sunlight. And of course, just as you lift your suitcase into the back of the van, she’s skirting around the one parked in front, her eyes trained on her phone in her hand. 

You pull your sunglasses over your eyes, watching her preoccupied self lift her heavy bag into the van while still trying to accomplish whatever it is she’s doing on her phone. She hasn’t seen you yet, and you admit you’ve got a little bit of nerves in your stomach. You’re watching how the sun is hitting her hair, how her facial expressions draw up and down as she tries to read through what you know is a million emails, and how she juts her hip out to one side as she tosses her heavy carry-on across her neck.

She’s really, really pretty. And you swear, she doesn’t even know it. 

Suddenly you feel Sam’s hands on your shoulders, shaking you back and forth with force. “Top of the morning, brother! What are you standing there dumbfounded for? Thought Lyla and I would be fighting you for the backseat…”

You get yourself together, blinking rapidly as Sam breaks you from your awe-stricken stare. You hope he didn’t see where your direct line of vision was pointed. 

“Oh, you guys can have it, no big deal,” you reply, hopping into the open door and finding your place in one of the center seats. 

You see Sam’s face turn up in surprised disgust. “Uh, thanks? Are you okay?” 

It’s no secret that the backseat of the van always either belongs to you, or to Sam and Lyla. Just the way it has always been. But today, you’re feeling a little generous. “Yeah, I’m alright I guess. Why?”

Had amazing mind-blowing sex last night… I’m on cloud 9, Sam. 

“Just weird of you to give up your seat so willingly when we normally fistfight for it, that’s all…” Sam replies with suspicion in his voice. 

If I can keep this mood going, you can have the backseat for the rest of tour, I don’t give a fuck.

“Yeah… well don’t get used to it.”

—-

You’d learned the plane ride would thankfully end up being extremely short, and you found yourself seated with Josh and Ty rather than beside Y/N again. You did manage to catch her eyes a handful of times in the airport, though, each time making her fight off a smile while her face turned pink. Keeping things between you a bit of a secret is proving to be a little tedious, but again, it has only been a few days. Sneaking around with her is adding a whole new bit of excitement to your life, something completely unexpected and away from your norm. She’d ended up seated a few rows behind you on the plane, so you’d busied yourself with watching YouTube videos and mindless reel scrolling to pass the time.

Just as you are in the middle of watching someone restring a harp, your phone lights up with a text from her. 

Y/N

9:14AM: Don’t tell me that’s you I hear snoring up there…

You chuckle as you remember her jokes from this morning in bed. 

You

9:15AM: That would be my brother. Sheesh, picking on me again, are you?

Y/N

9:15AM: It’s kinda fun to :) What does your day look like?

9:16AM: I mean, I could look at your itinerary, but I’d rather you just tell me.

Your heart warms at that, for some reason.

You

9:16AM: Heading straight for soundcheck as soon as we land, then some other pre show shit. What about you?

Y/N

9:18AM: Ahhh, that’s probably why I have to get all of the suitcases to your rooms then…

You

9:20AM: Don’t be snooping around in my stuff now…

Y/N

9:21AM: I slept in your shirt last night Jake. Don’t think I need to snoop...

You

9:22AM: You’re right. If I had my way, you’d be wearing my clothes day and night

Just then the pilot comes over the speaker, letting everyone know it’s time to land. Your conversation is cut short, but at least you know that you had been on her mind, too. You want to see what she has to say, want to know what she would have responded with, but for now, it has to wait. As the plane descends, you’re wondering why Isla never texted you back, but you chalk it up to the time difference, and maybe she is wanting to avoid you a little after her outburst last night.

Or maybe she realized she overreacted. Probably not. 

As the morning turns into the chaos of making it to the venue, your mind gets occupied with thoughts of nothing but the show. You go full-force professional, drowning yourself in your work and making sure things are running tightly with the sound of your music. You and your brothers spend the next bit of time doing your duties, and you even take some time to go over a few things with your guitar tech Johnny to check in on the state of your precious babies. 

For the first time in a while, your mind is at complete ease. You’re laughing. You’re smiling. You can almost feel the serotonin coursing through your veins, and the overall calmness settle in over your entire being. A sly look from Josh tells you that he can tell you’re glowing; it must be obvious in your aura that you had a really good night with Y/N. You finally feel like you can exhale completely without the burden of the Isla situation looming over you like a black cloud. 

For the first time in nearly a year, you get the feeling that everything is going to be okay. You feel in charge of your life, and your decisions. None of the bullshit matters. The phone call from Chris yesterday is just the icing on the cake. A brand new air of confidence has overtaken you, and the realization that you’re a grown man who can make your own decisions further outweighs the burden of the woman who is, for lack of a better term, leeching at all the life you have left. 

…That is, until your phone begins buzzing in your pocket. Fuck. Just had to think it.

You remorsefully pull it from your pocket, already knowing that you’re going to find her contact name and photo of the two of you lighting up your screen. You huff in aggravation when you find just that. 

“Gonna go to the restroom, be right back,” you announce to everyone as you quickly slip down the metal stairs and to the bathrooms backstage. You prep yourself, ready to have the conversation that you’ve had so many times before. 

“Hello?” you answer with an intentional sound of breathlessness in your voice, making yourself seem busier than you actually are.

“Jake…” Isla says. 

You push into the bathroom, glancing under the stalls to find that you have the place to yourself. 

“Hey, what’s up?” you say, wandering into the handicapped stall so you can pace in private. 

“What’s up? What’s up?! Did you not get my texts last night? What the fuck is going on, Jake? Where did you go with that girl?” Isla begins to raise her voice. “I saw you two leaving on Danny’s story, you were in a rush, Jake, walking her out the door.”

“Isla, Isla listen to me, will you just let me talk? Damn!” you retaliate. “She is our new runner.”

“Yeah I fuckin’ saw that, Jake. I found her Instagram.” You roll your eyes, because of course she did. 

“Josh needed her to go on an errand to get him something last night, and it was really really late. Dean had to stay back with everyone else because there were some fans hanging around, so I walked her down the street to the store. That’s it.” You know you’re lying. The guilt of hearing yourself say it all out loud hits you in the gut. But there’s no way in hell you’re telling her anything remotely close to the truth. She doesn’t deserve it, really. You don’t owe her shit at this point.

“Ok so why didn’t Josh go by himself? Or why didn’t he go with her, instead of you?” she presses. Here comes the digging. 

“Because he and Ty had had like 5 shots of tequila a piece and they were taking care of each other. He knew he would be feeling like hell this morning, and he was out of his tea or some shit, so he made her a list of things he needed. Fuck, I don’t know, you know how he is. I stayed outside…” 

She stays silent for a second as she runs over your explanation. Ok, maybe this is working. 

“You’re a horrible liar, Jacob. You always have been…” her words are quiet and exhausted, and they hit you like a dagger, for some reason. It isn’t so much what she said, but how she said it. And, for the fact that you know in your heart of hearts that this is probably the very first lie you’ve ever told her. In three years. What else did she think you had lied about?

“I’m not lying, Isla,” your words taste like sour poison in your mouth as you lean your elbow onto the stall wall, resting your forehead on your arm. 

“You might not be lying, but you’re sure as hell not telling me the whole truth. Are you seeing her, Jake?” she asks, her voice rising again. “Because it feels like I need to say something to he–”

“Isla, please! For the love of god! You do not need to say something to her, please stop with that! She was just doing her job!” you feel defensive. 

She scoffs. “Ya know, you’ve changed, Jake. Something isn’t the same with you anymore…”

“Oh, you think?!” you yell, pushing yourself off of the wall. “Isla, open your eyes! We haven’t been good in almost a year, do you not realize that?! We fight, we argue, we can’t stand the sight of each other sometimes! Did you not even notice when I would spend days at a time staying with Sam and Josh?”

She stays quiet, but you feel like the words that you’ve been wanting to say for a while now are finally bubbling to the surface with ease. “I…I’ve tried to break this off countless times, Isla. You can’t tell me you are ignoring that altogether. I’ve asked you multiple times to please find somewhere else to live.”

“You agreed that we would go on a break…”

“God Isla, don’t you remember that night? The night before I left… it was fucking 4AM, neither of us had slept, I was getting on a plane in like two hours… you were crying, I was crying, we were fighting horribly. I couldn’t even get out of my damn house unless I agreed to your terms,” you argued, recounting one of the worst nights of your entire life.

“So you seem to have forgotten that we had sex that night, too, huh?” she spouts. Fuck. You leaned back onto the wall, banging the outside of your fist against it. 

“We slept together before the fight, Isla. Remember?”

“So how are you going to have sex with me, then tell me you want to break up in the same night?” she cries. 

“We’ve gone through that exact scenario like ten times! It’s just… It just happens, I guess…!” you shake your head as the memory floods back. One thing that you and Isla never ever had a problem with was your sex life. Things could be rocky as hell between you, fights and arguments all over the place, but somehow, your bodies always craved each other when your hearts didn’t. It never made any sense. Mad sex happened often, but you never had make-up sex. It was always good, really really good, but toward the end, the love had faded and was replaced solely by your need for physical pleasure. 

Half the time, when you found yourselves wrapped up in one another after a fight, you’d get the realization that the situation was completely unhealthy and an unnatural thing to do, but it was what it was. An endless cycle. She’d throw on her tears, and you’d fall for it. Every. Single. Time. 

Until now. Well, the past couple of months, at least. You’d become so exhausted of your life with her that you could hardly live with yourself anymore. Sure, you still loved her, and still do, in some weird, fucked up way, but practicality and maturity had come into play lately, and you’d decided that if you were going to move forward with your life, you had to make a decision. And your decision didn’t include her. 

“Jake,” her voice gets quiet and solemn again.

“What?” you fuss. 

“Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?”

Your head falls backward as you let your eyes roll. Of course you remember. 

“Yeah, what about it?” you answer with annoyance. 

“We had too many margaritas on our first date. Decided to walk home, took the scenic route, you were so giddy drunk you told me you loved me, right then and there in the middle of the street. On our first date. And… you didn’t even regret it the next morning,” she recounted that summer night some three-odd years ago.

You close your eyes… if only you knew then…

“Yeah. I remember,” you say, biting your lips. 

“What changed?” Suddenly her tone feels sincere, like she wasn’t completely present for the downfall of your relationship. 

You bite your cheeks in as you pace around the stall, avoiding the dirty tiles as the fluorescent light above you blinks on and off. 

“I dunno, I guess we just… grew apart. Wanting different things… my life did a 180 really, really quickly…” you shy away from adding the part that you really want to say, that she turned into a whole different person than the one you fell in love with in the middle of the street that night. What once was the best thing that ever happened to you has turned into a person who only cares to be seen with you when there are fans taking pictures, or when she can show you off simply for the fame that you’ve acquired, not for the person that you actually are. “I grew up a lot, Isla. I want different things, now. And I’m sorry, I really, really am. How things have worked out…” You feel a lump begin to swell at the back of your throat as you hear her crying on the other end.

“You told me I was it for you…” she says after a few beats, sending your heart straight to your stomach again. 

“I know. I know I did. But–”

“Do you love me at all anymore, Jake? Like, even just a little? Is there any chance that…” she sniffles. 

You hold strong, though swallowing the lump in your throat is harder than you thought it’d be. “I don’t think that there is, Isla… I’m… we’ve been apart for so long now that I…I’ve realized things. Even more clearly than I did before…”

“So you’re just gonna throw everything away, all that we built together…I…I’m not willing to throw everything away, Jake…” Just as her sentence ends, your reception becomes spotty, and you hear her voice cut in and out. 

“Isla, I can’t hear you. Hey…I don’t have good service… I’ll… Hello?” You hold your phone in the air as you watch your two bars go down to none, and the call hangs itself up. 

“Fuck…” you breathe, feeling a flood of emotions taking over you. You hate this. You truly do. You hate lying to her. You hate lying to anyone in general, it’s not who you are. But in your mind, things were so far gone with Isla when you left, and you were so earth-shatteringly pissed off and tired of the back and forth, that you agreed to her “break” with the impression that she wouldn’t speak to you while you were gone. That she wouldn’t make an effort to know your every move, and would try to find herself somewhere else to live, so that way when you returned home, you could have your own space to recollect and cool off without her there. Only then could you finally discuss things like adults, cut your ties, and move on with your lives. 

…But she just didn’t. 

And you didn’t expect to feel so free without her hanging on your every action. 

And you didn’t expect Y/N.

You shove the stall door open, finding none other than your twin sitting cross-legged on the countertop, his chin balanced on his fists. 

“Fuck, Josh, you scared me. How long have you been–”

“Long enough. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just…came to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been “peeing” for fifteen minutes, now,” he jokes, hopping off the counter. You both stand and stare at each other for a few seconds, and you can tell that he’s absorbing your pain, a little bit. Letting himself understand the predicament you’re in. “You’re really in a fucked up spot, aren’t you?”

You let out a sigh, turning to lean against the counter beside him. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, I am.” You run your hand through your hair as you turn on the cold water, letting your hands sit underneath the running faucet before patting the icy water onto your eyes. “Guess this guilt trip is what I get for being too good of a person. I could tell Isla that I fucking hate her and I never want to see or hear from her ever again, block her number, and tell her to kick rocks. But…”

“But she still lives with you…” Josh finishes. 

“Yeah. And I’m not home to kick her out onto the street. Not like I would, anyway…” you go on. 

“You still have a soft spot for her, don’t you?” Josh asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You shrug, not sure how to answer. “I don’t think it’s a soft spot. It’s… It’s more like, a habit. A normalcy. We’d become so accustomed to each other and our routines and patterns that we just… don’t really know how to separate. Does that make sense?”

Josh nods. “You’re saying ‘we’.

You shake your head as you flip the faucet off. “You know what I mean. This trip, this tour so far, has seriously put things into perspective for me. With my standpoint on things. But, it doesn’t make it any easier to face.”

Josh takes a deep breath as the two of you make your way to the door. “I get it. I get it… I think you should stick with your guns, though. I’ve never seen you so upbeat as you have been today. Not in a long while, at least. It’s like you’re finally free, or something.”

“Or it could be because I got my redemption with Y/N last night…” you counter. 

“OHHHH did you?! Well, it all makes sense now!” he yells a little bit too loudly as you walk back through the hall to the stage. “Means you’re gonna be a fuckin’ animal on stage tonight, then, god damnit.”

The two of you laugh and shove each other’s bodies into the cold block walls, and the phone call with Isla suddenly falls to the very back of your mind, just as quickly as it had come. 

HER POV

“Sure you’ve got all that?” Corri asks as she hands the staff and crew keycards. 

“Yeah, I’ll just make a few trips, it’s no big deal!” you reply as you roll the guys’ suitcases into a corner to hide behind the front desk of the hotel. 

“I’m so sorry, I’d help but I’ve gotta run…” she smiles and waves as she answers her phone, already in a hurry as she rushes back out the door. 

“No worries!” you wave back as you sort out the key cards in your hand. You find the card for your own room first, deciding to go ahead and drop your own things off before worrying about theirs. Once inside, you make quick work of dropping all your bags onto the bed, taking notice of the view outside your window. You have to peek around the corner of the brick building to catch the tiniest glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, but still yet, the actual proximity of it is astounding. You feel a jolt of excitement run through you as you realize you’ll get to visit it soon. You snap a quick photo of it, sending it away to Ruth before heading back downstairs. 

“Okay, Josh, you’re up first, sir. 603, 603…” You take the handle of his suitcase in your hand and make your way to the elevators again.

You make the multiple trips up and down to make sure the belongings are delivered safely. Jake’s things happen to be last up, and you laugh to yourself that it just happened to be that way. “412…” you mutter to yourself as you make your fourth and final trip up the elevators. As you wait for it to ascend, you take a second to look at his luggage, plain black and worn-in around the edges with an old brown leather keychain hanging from the handle. Attached to the keychain is what looks like the stringed remnants of what was once a white knotted bracelet of some kind, but the edges are so frayed and torn up that you can hardly tell if it was a bracelet or just a bunch of woven string. 

The elevator dings, and you pull the last remaining card from your back pocket. You make your way down to room 412, using the card to open the heavy door in front of you. In the others’ rooms, you left the suitcases by the beds, but in Jake’s you take a second to lift it onto the shelf for him, turning it so all he will have to do is unzip, and flip it open. For a second, you contemplate snooping a little, but you’re scared that he would notice. Instead, you walk to the window, pulling the metal ball chain to open the blinds. The window goes from floor to ceiling, and after the blinds are pulled all the way, you can see the Tower in all its beauty, standing broad and proud in its entirety. 

“Wow…” you breathe, pulling the window handle and realizing that it is in fact a sliding door to a small balcony. 

Again, you pull your phone out and set it to a .5 zoom, able to get the entire tower in the frame. You attach the photo to a message to Jake. 

You

11:49AM: Your view of the Eiffel Tower is a lot better than the view from my room, I must say…

You watch your phone for a minute or so before you see his text bubble pop up, sending excitement rolling through your nervous system. 

Jake

11:51AM: So stay in mine tonight

“Oh my god…” you whisper as you feel your face get hot. You’re smiling like a giddy child, realizing that he wants to see you again. You wiggle your fingers above your phone as you decide on how to reply. Could this be becoming a regular thing? You want to lay it on heavy, because why not? 

You

11:53AM: Already wanting round 3 this soon, hm?

Jake

11:54AM: And 4 and 5 and 6

You

11:54AM: You better be careful Jake, wouldn’t want to spoil yourself with too much of a good thing ;)

Jake

11:55AM: Baby haven’t you noticed I’m the overindulgent type?

11:55AM: Spoiling myself is what I do best

You feel your body getting heated as you realize he is really into you. He wants to indulge himself in you. 

You

11:56AM: Didn’t realize I was this craveable to you

Jake

11:57AM: Like I said, hardly a clean thought in days

You slide your phone back into your pocket as you realize you have things to do today, and you can’t be spending your time borderline sexting with your boss. You fan away the redness from your face and close the blinds back up, heading back out into the hall. 

As the door latches behind you, you notice Mia, Lyla, and Ty standing out in the hallway talking. 

“Oh, hey girl!” Lyla says. “Thanks for getting all their stuff in the rooms, you off to fill the rider?” She crosses her arms across her chest as Mia dons a snarky smile, waiting for your answer all the same. 

“Yep! Heading to the venue to get the print-off now, but we have a meeting first. What are you guys gonna do today?” You ask, trying to seem busy with digging around in your shoulder satchel. 

“Mmm, I dunno…” Lyla goes on. “Maybe explore a little bit. Hey, did you manage to get everything for Josh last night? Saw you and Jake slide out of the hotel bar last night, then we never saw you again…” She shrugs her shoulders like she’s innocently asking, but you catch onto her antics quickly. You’d been noticing their suspicions for the past couple of days, and now they are out in full force. She looks to Mia who raises her eyebrows in question, as well. 

“Yeah, you guys just… disappeared. Together.” Mia adds. You hear Ty scoff as he leans his shoulder on the wall. 

You swallow hard as you readjust your stance. “Yeah, Josh gave me a list of things that he needed when he realized he was too intoxicated to make a trip down to the store, Dean stayed back to keep an eye out for you guys and that hoard of people standing by the exit. Jake was sober, so he walked with me. Then we split ways and went to our rooms,” you explain. You don’t really know why you’re lying to them, Jake even said he isn’t worried about getting into trouble… but why are they acting so interested in what you’re doing, anyway? It’s not their business…

Lyla and Mia both look at Ty for confirmation as he ignores the situation and scrolls his phone, giving them a small nod to let them know that yes, that was the story.

“Hm, cute,” Mia says, kicking her shoe into the carpet. “Hero Jake saves the day again. Things will change real quick when I–”

“They went to the store for me, okay?” Ty interrupts her. “I needed Pepto fucking Bismol, BAD, okay? Do you think I wanted to ask Dean for that?? That’s embarrassing as hell and I didn’t care that Jake knew. Fuck! You bitches are so nosy, I swear to god…” Ty scoffs again as he leans back onto the wall. “Can we go get breakfast now before I eat my fucking hand?”

Ty. Your hero. 

Lyla furrows her brow together as she gives you a quick up-down. What is going on? What switched up all of a sudden? Yesterday, everything felt fine with them, now your gut is telling you that they’re indifferent toward you. 

“Yep,” Lyla says. “Let’s go. See you later, Y/N? Meet up for lunch?” They don’t even wait for you to accept the offer before loading into the elevator one by one, leaving you standing in the empty hallway alone. You quickly catch eyes with Ty as the doors begin to close, and you watch as he winks at you, letting you know your suspicions of Mia and Lyla knowing your little secret are real. 

But then again, their suspicions are very real, too.  

—---

A little later, you all load into the van to head to the venue, and you know you will have exactly an hour after this meeting to hit the store and fill the rider before you need to be back for set-up. Your palms break out into a sweat as you realize today is going to be extra-rushed with the addition of the meeting that’s been sprung into the middle of things, but, the new security has arrived, and management wants them to meet with everyone before the show to do formal introductions. 

“Hey, scoot over,” Ty says as he slides into the bench seat beside you, two paper coffee cups in hand. “I got you this, I don’t know what you like, so I just got you what I like,” he says, handing you the second cup. 

“Oh my god, Ty, that’s so nice of you, thank you! You didn’t have to do that,” you gush, giving him a happy pout as you take the cup from his hand. He shrugs you off like it’s no big deal, adjusting himself in the seat as it pulls from the hotel parking lot. You can see why Josh is so taken with Ty, he’s the kind of guy that grabs your attention immediately, his relaxed body language and nonchalant attitude only add to his striking looks. His eyes are a bright green, almost like a peridot, and when he speaks, he hardly makes eye contact, always looking around as if he’s more nervous than he’s leading on. But then, his kindness shows up as confidence, making him all the more intriguing as a person. 

“No big deal, I have two hands,” he laughs, pulling up the hood of his oversized black hoodie. You notice the white emblem on the front of it, a wild looking mess of pine trees and other designs with some type of words intertwined in the branches of the pines. 

You take a sip of the hot coffee, the perfect balance of cream and sugar mixed with the bitter flavor of the drip. “Hey, what’s on your hoodie?” you ask.

His black fingernails yank down on the pocket of the hoodie, stretching out the material so you can get a better look. “Oh, this is my brother’s band. This hoodie is old as fuck…” he motions to the worn-in rips around the cuffs of the sleeves, and the tear in the pocket. 

“Oh, cool! Are they still playing?” you ask.

“They still get together every now and then, but, they’ve mostly moved on with their lives. I used to design the merch and do their visuals and shit. Feels like a lifetime ago…” he goes on, taking a long drink of his coffee.

“That’s really neat, Ty. Do you miss doing that kind of thing?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I do, actually. I went to school for graphic design, worked for a nightclub in college helping out the back of house mix and lights, just fucking around and learning. Their band used to play there a lot, kind of became their House band, I guess. It was wild times, really,” he reminisces, smiling to himself. 

“So you are accustomed to how things work for Josh and the band, then, huh?” you say.

He nods. “Oh yeah. Definitely. Kinda miss it, honestly.”

“Is that how you met Josh?” you feel confident enough to ask. 

He stifles a tight smile. “No. No, we met a long long time ago,” he sings. “Was a different lifetime, back then. Just happened to find him again at the right time…” 

You smile at his story, knowing that now is not the time to press any further on the subject, so you decide to change it. 

“Hey, thanks for… ya know. This morning, in the hall…” you nudge him in the arm and speak quietly as Mia and Lyla are sitting two rows ahead of you. “I–”

“You don’t have to thank me, babe. And you don’t have to explain anything, either,” he keeps his eyes trained straight ahead, speaking just above a whisper as his lips hit the lid of his coffee cup. 

You nod, your mind traveling back to what Mia had said. ‘Things will change real quick…’ What did that even mean? You push it away, instead focusing on your job duties and going over the notes that were sent out in an email this morning. The van pulls into the venue backlot and parks in a corner away from view. 

“Shit,” Paul exclaims from the front seat. “We’ve gotta hurry, or we’re gonna miss this meeting!” Everyone quickly makes their way into the building to gather for directions.

“See you later, ma,” Ty says as he rushes off toward the other van to find Josh. 

“Yeah, thanks again for the coffee!” you answer. As you follow Paul, Wes, and Corri inside, you catch a quick glimpse of Jake grouped with the rest of the guys and their partners, and he flashes you the sweetest glance, holding it for just long enough to make your nerves swim.

A few rushed minutes later, you gather with the rest of management and a few members of the crew in a small room with a large table. “Can’t believe we made it on time,” Corri mumbles as she pulls her laptop from her bag. “That traffic was awful!”

Just then, Dean comes in the door, leading a group of two men and one woman behind him. You take them all in, realizing that these three must be the new security personnel. They all have a professional, focused demeanor, eyes already laser-focused on making eye contact with each person in the room. 

“Morning, everyone! Sorry about throwing this meeting on you at the last minute, but our newest security has arrived a few days ahead of schedule, thankfully, and we wanted to introduce everyone,” Paul stands and addresses the room. “Dean?”

Dean steps forward as the other three stand behind him. “Good morning everyone, as most of you know, the band has asked us to add a few more bodies onto the security team, and luckily we were able to find this excellent outfit to spare their time to come to Europe with us. I just wanna thank Paul and Corri for finding them, and giving me a few extra sets of eyes while I do my job to the best of my ability… and I’m looking forward to working with them. So, Murph, take it away.”

You watch as the youngest of the three steps forward, a handsome, muscular man with a high and tight haircut and chinstrap beard. He’s not very tall, but taller than Dean, and his brown eyes are the first thing you take notice of. His arms are littered with tattoos that perfectly showcase his muscular build, disappearing beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

“Thank you Dean, hello everyone, uh my name’s Murph, I’m the lead of this particularly impressive group of individuals behind me. This is Sasha, and this is Monty. We’re very excited to be joining you all as we travel through Europe. Just a little bit about us, uh, each of us is highly trained in the field of security and guard, each of us has over ten years under our belts in this service. After various full careers, we’ve each trained at the same facility for the past, what, six years now?” he goes on, glancing behind him to his teammates. They nod. 

“Dean will still be your head of operations, but the four of us will work hand-in-hand with the systems and protocols that Dean already has in place for your protection. We will be working closely with venue security to make sure everyone stays on the same page day-of. Our number one priority is safety and risk management, as well as emergency response plans to ensure that safety. We do realize that chaos is the nature of live events such as these shows, and that’s the name of the game, so we pride ourselves in being proactive, and we’ll appreciate your understanding of our protocols.”

Murph stands with his hands clasped together, hanging below his waist. You notice that he makes eye contact with everyone, and his demeanor is competent and experienced. He’s very well spoken but laid back, and he smiles at the end of every sentence. He seems sincere, like every bone in his body was formed to do this job, and he talks about his profession like he was born for it. 

“Anyways, as time passes you’ll notice we are very much ‘no-questions-asked’, and our processes are strict and straight-forward. Uhm, we look forward to being here, and please, we don’t bite, we’re all friendly characters who look forward to meeting each and every one of you on this tour.” On his last word, his eyes land on you, giving you the slightest smirk. 

Oh? Did you see that right? Did your mind make that up? He’s…oh.

Murph steps back in line with his cohorts as Corri follows up. “Thanks, Murph. We’re very excited to have you on board. Guys, any questions, comments?” She addresses the staff. 

One gentleman from management that you aren’t very familiar with speaks up. “So I’m not sure any of us have had security follow us around so closely before… will you be accompanying us everywhere?”

Murph rubs his hand across his nose before he speaks again, leaning his arms down on the back of an empty chair. You watch as his pecs and biceps flex under his tight black t-shirt, sending your heart rate into a frenzy. Fuck, he is HOT. 

“Good question, uhm, it’s not our intention to make you feel like you’re being followed by us, please understand. Dean is only one guy, and while I’m more than positive he does his job extremely well, we’re here to quadruple his efforts. So no, we will not escort every person to every outing, or whatever the case may be, our sights will be set on the band members of course, given their faces will be the ones standing out in the crowds. We’ve been specially trained in crowd and fan control, which again will be our main concerns. But please, if you at any time feel unsafe or want an extra set of eyes in any particular place, we are a phone call away. At all times. Please just know we are simply doing what we’re hired to do,” he finishes.

Your heart is beating fast. Why is your heart beating fast? Like really fast… it needs to stop. Slow down. You realize after a few seconds of staring at his lips and the way his jaw moves that you have absolutely no fucking idea what he just said. Shit. Shittttttt. No. Did he have an accent? He had an accent, you think. Southern, maybe? Don’t know, but there was a little bit of a drawl…

“Ok! Well if no one else has any questions, guess we can all get to it! Busy day today everyone, I’ve emailed you all Murph, Sasha, and Monty’s contact info, please feel free to call or text them if you need anything at all. They will also stay on channel 5 of your walkies,” Paul says as he stands from the table. You shake away your intrusive thoughts that came out of fucking nowhere as everyone around you stands and makes their way to the door.

As you stand, you feel light-headed, like you are dizzy, standing on a rocking boat in the middle of the ocean. Did you just swoon? Over a man you don’t know? His assertiveness, his no-nonsense attitude laced with some type of hospitality you’ve never encountered before… his…muscles…

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, letting the feeling pull you back to reality. As your eyes scan the screen a warm feeling fills your chest, and pushes away the swirling floaty feeling. 

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

You can’t help the smile pulling across your face, quickly biting your lips together as you tap on the notification. The playlist loads as you scroll to the bottom, seeing the song he added only minutes ago, ‘Thinking About You’ by Beck. 

He’s thinking about you. About last night…

Your brain steers you on autopilot as you walk down the hall, your mind replaying each and every glorious moment from last night on repeat. Every touch, every sound. You let out a sigh as you stop and lean against the cool white brick wall, deciding that if you were going to make your move, it had to be now or never. You quickly type in the song title, smirking a little as you find the song you’re looking for. 

You add ‘Here I Am (Come And Take Me)’ by Al Green to the playlist, hoping you aren’t being too forward with your intentions. There is nothing more that you want than for him to do exactly that.

“Y/N, did you want me to come with you to the market or do you think you’ve got it?” Paul asks, seemingly frazzled and rushing around. 

“Oh, um, I’ve got it!” you answer, trying your best to get back into a professional headspace. 

“Great, let me know!” he smiles, zipping off in the blink of an eye. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand, this time a text is the reason behind your grin. 

Jake

1:07PM: You know, at night they light up the Eiffel Tower…

You

1:08PM: Oh do they?

Jake

1:09PM: Sure do, it’s pretty.

You

1:10PM: Maybe I’ll see it while we’re here…

Jake

1:11PM: Or, you could see it tonight, with me.

You

1:12PM: I’m guessing that invitation is still standing?

Jake

1:13PM: Consider it an open invitation, indefinitely.

You

1:14PM: I’ll keep it in mind. ;)

You shove your phone back into your pocket before he can respond again, making your way towards the greenroom to check on the status of the venue provided items before you head out to the market. Your eyes glance around the hallway, looking for any sign of the new security detail, wanting one more look at the new faces. 

You make it into the greenroom finding everyone hanging around before soundcheck starts. A bluetooth speaker is playing music in the corner that Daniel seems to be in control of, laughing as Sam throws something at him and tells him to change it. You meet eyes with Jake for just a brief second as you make your way over to the food table, looking away from him quickly. You nod your head along to the song playing as you organize the drinks the venue staff brought, making your mental list of items to pick up. You check the time on your phone and know you need to get moving, knowing they will be ready for some food by the time sound check is over. 

You grab your purse from the floor and sling it over your shoulder, catching Jake’s eyes again as they are locked in on you from the couch he is sitting on. An acoustic guitar is slung over his body, his fingers tinkling away at the strings as he attempts to play along with whatever song is playing on the speaker. His eyes don’t leave you though, and you can tell that they haven’t since the second you walked into the room. A tiny smile pulls up the corner of his mouth, his fingers still moving rapidly over the strings. Your eyes flick over to watch them work for just a moment before meeting his eyes again. He lifts his brow as his smile grows and you feel your chest growing warm from just one look. 

Josh breaks the tension by standing up and announcing that it was time for soundcheck. Jake’s eyes finally break away from yours, sitting up and placing the guitar on the couch next to him. You turn away and walk to the other side of the room to check the coolers for ice, finding that thankfully they were already filled. The guys start to make their way out of the room, everything growing quieter as the room empties. You notice that Jake is taking his time to make it to the door, lagging behind until the two of you are the only ones left. You swallow nervously as he walks towards you, both hands in his pockets. 

His eyes meet your purse that is hanging over your shoulder, biting his lips together. “Going somewhere?”

You smile and kick your boot against the floor, “Yeah, this band I work with is sending me on a wild goose chase through Paris for snacks.” 

“And liquor,” he taunts, his eyes locking in on yours. “Definitely don’t forget the liquor.”

“Yeah, I better double check my list, wouldn’t want to make my boss mad,” you say, raising a brow. You know he doesn’t like it when you call him that, but you’re willing to push him a little.  

“Your boss, huh…” he pauses, bringing his hand out of his pocket. He lazily swipes his fingers over his lips before dropping his hand and grabbing yours. 

“Call me your boss again and I will show you what it looks like when I’m mad,” he smirks. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you ask, feeling the warmth of his hand as his fingers trail up your arm. Your phone starts to ring in your purse, a call coming at possibly the worst time. 

A hum leaves his chest as he nods his head, “It’s both, but I think you know that, don’t you baby...”

You smirk at him as you pull your phone from your purse, seeing Ruth’s name lighting up the screen. 

“It’s Ruth, I should take this. I’ve had a hard time staying in touch with her with the time difference,” you start, feeling his hand grip into your bicep before letting go. 

“Take it, I gotta run anyway,” he laughs, giving you a sweet smile. “Tell her I say hello, and don’t do me too dirty on the recap,” he finishes with a wink. With that, he is disappearing out of the door with a final look over his shoulder. You stand rooted in place as you slide your finger across the screen, answering the call. 

“Um, he–hello…” you answer, positively frozen, still unable to move. 

“Hello? Y/N?” Ruth says. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m here, I just– I… I’m walking to the store to get some snacks. I just had a little moment there for a second right as you called. I’m good now,” you answer, pushing through the door and heading for the venue exit. 

“Oh, what’s up, you okay? Did I interrupt? Is this a bad time? I just poured a glass of wine and sat down on my couch. I wanted to listen to you yap so I don’t have to think about my own sad miserable life. Did you give the sexy guitar man another shot in the sack or what? Please, feed me, I’m dyin’ over here!”

You laugh as you shake your head clear, “Ruthie, babe, go grab the bottle, because we’ve got a lot of ground to cover and I’ve got twenty-five minutes.”

—

JAKE POV

Josh was right. Josh was so right. 

You feel animalistic on stage tonight, like your comfort level is at an all-time high with no fear or apprehension for what could happen. Sometimes these moods will hit you out of nowhere, like an unexpected bout of giddiness and raw connection to your instrument that you let shine through in your performances. But Josh learned a long, long time ago that nine times out of ten, when you get into these moods, it’s because you had a particularly good night the evening before. 

You know she is watching you. You can feel her eyes on you. Sure, the thousands of other fans in the arena are eyeing you all the same, but the fact that she knows she gets to spend the night in your bed tonight makes your dirty thoughts rush with a little more fervor, and your efforts to show out become a little more pointed. 

You glance to your left and see her standing in the wings, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her tight black jeans, one eyebrow cocked as her expression contorts into a sarcastic look of intrigue. She knows exactly what you’re doing. And you’re not afraid to keep it going. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t overly excited for what your night will hold as soon as you can get her in your bed again. The thoughts are all-encompassing, but you channel them, lasering in on concentrating on the show. 

The amount of times the eye contact with her has happened tonight should be a bit concerning, honestly, but you don’t mind it. You flourish in knowing you’re taking up space in her mind, too. 

The second you catch her singing along to one of your songs out of the corner of your eye, you almost break in half. You hadn’t really talked about your music with her yet. You should have, but…how do you even bring that up? But also, she hadn’t asked, really. But there she was, singing along to Fate of the Faithful. 

Interesting…this one is at the top of your list, too. 

She didn’t see you notice her mumbling the words and nodding her head along, but damned if it didn’t make your dick throb. You smirk, telling yourself you’ve only got two more songs until encore, and you were going to take advantage of that time if it killed you. 

The seconds tick by as you finish out The Archer, and as soon as the lights go down, you kick off the necessary pedals and rip your guitar strap off, shoving your guitar into the trusted hands of your tech. 

The hallways are dark backstage, and the atmosphere almost feels eerie as you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, still half-deaf from the volume of your amps. You’ve got approximately six minutes. Where is she?

You pace the hall to the green room, out of breath and covered in sweat as you search for her, your eyes darting left and right as you pass by staff in the dark, crowded hallways. Where are you, baby? You feel your chest heaving up and down as you maintain your breath, trying to slow it back down when you know that within seconds, it will be picking back up again, if only you could find her…

Suddenly you spot her, keeping her hands busy at a random table. She has her back to you, so you place a strong hand on her shoulder, lightly squeezing but whipping her around to face you. She’s surprised at first, but then her face softens when she realizes it’s you. 

“Jake, what are you—“ You cut her off with a quick ‘shh’, checking your surroundings to make sure there is no one around to watch you take her hand and pull her away, walking fast down the hall until you find a room that will suffice. “Where are we going?” you hear her. 

The jam room. Perfect. 

You burst through the door knowing that there is no chance at all anyone will be in here, but you double check just in case. Your heart is still pounding in your ears; just the feeling of her hand in yours is sending your mind down an unforgivable path. You close and lock the door behind you. Five minutes. 

“Jake!!!” She says your name a little louder now, grabbing your attention for real this time. You grab both of her shoulders, her body stiffening under your touch. You slowly back her against the door, pressing your hips into hers. You hear her gasp, her hands immediately grabbing at your bent elbows. You’re craving her so badly you can hardly stand it, so you push her a little harder, attaching your lips to the sensitive skin of her neck. 

She moans a little giggle into your ear as you feel her body respond to your touch. “You’re crazy, Jake! It’s almost encore—“

“You don’t think I fucking know that, Y/N?” you growl, running your tongue up the side of her neck. “Couldn’t wait another second. Needed to taste you.” You surprise yourself, even, with your own display of need. But she isn’t arguing, in fact, she’s already gripping at the seams of your sweat-soaked jacket. 

“Taste me… taste me?” she purrs, “We definitely don’t have time for that, now, Jacob…”

Four minutes. 

“Huh-uh. Not that. Just like this…” You crash your lips onto hers, her hands now reaching under your jacket and gripping into your skin. This is all you want, to taste her. Kiss her…lose yourself in the rush of her. It’s heated and sloppy, but she’s kissing you back, and you aren’t going to waste one second of this precious time. 

For a second you worry that the marks of her nails scratching against your already blood-stimulated skin will be obvious to the audience, but you really don’t fucking care, at this point. You’re ravenous for her, and from the feel of things, she is for you, too. Her tongue delves deep into your mouth as you pull her hips into you, grinding yourself against her. Her hands drift down to your waistline, her fingertips barely sneaking underneath as she skims the hem.

“Ah ah, baby. Not that far. I’ve gotta go face ten thousand people,” you say, knowing that the situation in your pants is already on its way to being blatantly obvious to the naked eye. She whines into a kiss, her lips still breathlessly pulsing against you. 

Three minutes. 

“Then why’d you pull me back here, huh? You’re a fuckin’ tease…” she says, her words making your situation a million times worse. 

“I’m the tease?” you pant. “Ho ho, you’re sadly mistaken, sweetheart. That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

Her fingers knead into your lower back as you tighten your jaw, her head tilting back against the door.

“Oh, yeah? ‘N why is that?”

“You left me a gift in my hotel room, don’t you remember?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow. 

She shakes her head once. “A gift? I— no…”

“Mhm. You did. You sneaky little thing, probably didn’t even mean to, did you?” you retort. You slyly reach your hand to your chest, nimbly sliding your fingers into the small pocket sewn to the inside of your jacket. Still right where you put it, you pull out the red lace thong, letting it dangle off of your extended middle finger. 

Her face goes stark white. “Oh my god…” she whispers. 

“Mhm. So tell me baby, did you leave it on purpose, or did you just conveniently not even notice you left my room that morning without any panties on?” you press confidently, watching her face turn from ghost white to crimson red. You love it when she blushes. 

She swallows and regains her composure, but you know she’s falling apart just the same as you are. You jut your hips into her again as she stutters over her words. 

Two minutes…

“Answer me, baby…”

“I—I don’t remember, I guess I kicked them to the floor and forgot to—“ she struggles to understand and remember how she could have possibly walked out of your room half naked. “Jake, in your pick pocket? Are you insane? You could have dropped it on stage…”

You smirk again at her underestimation. “No, I wouldn’t have. My fingers are a bit more adept than you think they are, I suppose,” the double entendres obvious in your tone. “I’ll remind you of that, later.” You bite your bottom lip in between your teeth as it starts to hit you that you’ve got to walk back soon. Or run, actually. “Wanted to keep it safe and sound, right here,” you pat your hand against the pocket. “But, here you go, you can have it back. So that I can see it in action again.” You grip her wrist and turn her palm up, flipping her hand to place the thong into her grasp. 

You grab her face and press one more quick, heated kiss to her lips as you feel the time closing in around you. You turn and reach for the door handle, peeking outside to make sure the coast is clear. You begin to make moves to go, before you hear her voice strangled and weak behind you. 

“Jake, wait,” she spouts, pulling your hand to make you face her again. She rolls up the red lace tightly in her hand and yanks you back to her by your lapels. She stuffs the thong back into your pick pocket before shoving you away from her again. 

“Finders keepers.”

——

“Damn if there weren’t some creative signs in the crowd tonight, eh?” Josh pokes his elbow into your shoulder as he sits beside you on the arm of the couch. You wince a laugh as you remember a few of them. 

“Paris is the City of Love!” you cock an eyebrow as you chug an ice cold bottle of water. 

“No, stupid, it’s the City of Lights,” Sam butts in. “Gas street lamps before there was electricity… ya know…”

“Nobody fuckin’ asked you, Samuel,” you wave your hand at him. “No, sorry I didn’t do a full research dissertation on the city of Paris before we got here,” you click your tongue as you stand from the couch and walk toward your backpack.

Danny busts through the door as he begins ripping the silver chainmaille-like overlay from his body. “Jake, I swear to god if you keep singing like that on B stage I might actually be forced to like the idea of your new band,” he says, making your face flame. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever…” you say as you remove your own jacket. 

“He was flat as fuck, what do you mean, Daniel?” Josh yells.

“I’m serious, you sound really good, man. I haven’t heard you sing like that since we were in the garage that one time and Josh got too high and passed out.”

“That happened once, thank you very much. And I woke right back up as soon as I heard him disrespecting my microphone like that,” Josh says. You smirk at the memory as you unzip your bag, pulling a fresh set of wrinkled clothes from it. You decide to keep your mouth shut as you listen to them bicker. 

“Uh, I recall that happening many times, actually…” Sam adds. “Because that one time Mom came barreling into the garage and sat down and listened because she didn’t know who was out here that wasn’t Josh.”

“Yep,” Danny agrees. “Fuck, that was a long time ago. Anyways. Sound good, man.” Danny claps a hand to your shoulder as you purse your lips.

“Thanks,” you reply. You really wish someone would change the subject.

“Hey, did you see Murph and his teammates absolutely fucking patrolling the crowd tonight?” Sam says. “That guy is seriously no nonsense, isn’t he?”

“Shh, he’s literally standing outside the door like the fucking King’s Guard,” Danny whispers as he laughs. 

“Is he really?!” Sam exclaims. “Wow…”

“Hey, we need to initiate them…” Josh adds, flipping an empty water bottle into the air as he picks at the rhinestones on his face. 

“Fuck, yeah we do, don’t we?” you say. “Josh, find us a spot.”

“Already way ahead of you, brother.” He grabs his phone off the couch and pulls up the screen, walking over to show you. “Seven blocks away.”

“Aha, perfect. Let’s do it,” you say as Josh flips through the Google photos and Yelp reviews.

You wonder where Y/N has journeyed off to, most likely somewhere with Wes or Paul. Your mind flashes back to just a little while ago in the jam room, and thankfully, your little heated escape was enough to tide you over long enough to get your head back on straight. 

“Daniel. Go alert the new knight in shining armor that we’re moving in twenty minutes,” Josh says, and Danny responds with a double thumbs-up.

—--

Y/N

11:59PM: Where did you run off to, Mr. Pickpocket?

You smile at your phone as you lean your elbows up on the high-top table of the bar, waiting for Josh to return with your drinks. 

You 

12:00AM: Place called Barracuda’s. You coming?

Y/N

12:01AM: Mmm, might make it. Ty stayed back to help me, again. Why is he so nice to me?

You

12:02AM: He really likes you, from what I hear 🙂

Y/N

12:02AM: You guys talk about me…?

You

12:03AM: Only good things. Don’t worry. See you soon

Just as you wrap up your conversation with her, Josh returns to the table with two cocktails. He pulls the straw from the drink and empties the contents from it into his mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, removing your straw after giving it a little stir, taking a large swig of the rather strong drink.

“She coming out?” he asks under his breath.

You shrug, glancing back to the bar at Lyla and Mia. “Think so, we’ll see.”

“Where did you disappear to before encore? I usually pass you at the urinals,” he says, keeping his voice low. 

“You don’t have to guess, Josh,” you smirk, tilting an eyebrow to him. He laughs, catching the attention of Murph from across the bar and inviting him to come over to your table. 

“Hot and heavy, huh? Listen, you know I was just kidding in the green room earlier. Giving you shit. You really do sound phenomenal,” he says as he takes another sip. 

“Ah, s’alright, I guess,” you shy away, still feeling indifferent about singing in front of a crowd like that. The thought of soon having to do it without the help of your brothers sends a shockwave of nerves through your stomach, but, the comfort comes more and more as the days go on. 

“Murph! My man, how was the night? Everything go accordingly?” Josh changes the subject as soon as Murph joins your table. He leans down, letting out a sigh.

“Think so, you tell me! Everything felt stout on our end, no hiccups or miscomms…” he shrugs his shoulders as he nods.

“Excellent! No yeah, Dean looked a lot more at ease tonight, so we really appreciate it,” Josh agrees as he places a harsh pat on Murph’s shoulder. 

You extend your hand to him, realizing that you had not yet had a formal introduction. “I’m Jake, nice to finally meet you,” you say as he shakes your hand. “Really appreciate you coming on board on such short notice with us.”

Murph stands back up and swivels his head, clapping his hands across his biceps. “Absolutely, man. We’re thankful to be here. This is my third tour of Europe, actually. Was in this very bar not a year ago,” he laughs, and you can feel a natural sincerity radiating from him. 

“Really!” you exclaim as you watch him step behind Josh and move to the wall side of the table. 

“Sorry, I like to be able to see the door. Yeah! Love it over here, feels so much different than home, but. Traveling the world is what I know best,” he explains. 

“Guess we’ve got that in common, huh?” you say, sipping your drink. 

Just then Dean joins your table, sharing quick hellos with everyone. 

“Sounds like the evening went smoothly for you, Dean?” you ask.

“It did, Mr. Jake. These guys know their shit. I’m really happy about the additions,” Dean says. “That first night here with the runner still has me feeling guilty, I’m not gonna lie.”

“What happened?” Murph perks up. “If you don’t mind…”

“Of course not,” Dean begins to explain. “She left late one night for an errand, decided to stop for a late dinner in a pub, some jackass decided to make her his main goal of the evening, if you catch me. Got a little too close for comfort, she hadn’t gotten my contact yet, so Jake here went and found her kind of caught up in the ropes of a very uncomfortable situation that could have gone awry. I should have been there, but. All ended well. She was shaken up, from what I could tell.” Dean shakes his head at the memory. 

You nod in agreement. “She was, but, all good. Glad we made the decision to add you guys on to the team.”

Murph nods as he finds Sasha and Monty in the corner, nodding their way as he hand signals something to them.

“That’s what we’re here for. Here to help,” he says.

“You coming to see the Tower with us tomorrow?” Josh asks. 

Murph gives him a sarcastic grin. “Kinda have to, don’t I?”

“Well shit, Murph, if you don’t like us just say it,” you tease, playfully slamming your palm on the table.

Just then a loud ruckus erupts from the bar as you notice Danny and Sam yelling and laughing with Mia and Lyla. Dean steps away to continue his patrol. 

Josh leans back across the table. “Murph, let us get you a shot. What’s your poison?”

Murph raises his hand as he politely declines. “Ah, I appreciate it, man, but no thanks. I only allow myself one beer for the whole night, and it’s been gone five minutes.”

“Ahh, not even one?” you press. “Come on…”

“Thanks gents, but I’ve got a job to do. You may be off work but my job is just starting,” Murph says, glancing at his watch. “Nice to finally meet you guys, I’ll pop back over in a bit.” He pats you both on the shoulders and drifts off again into the sea of people. 

It’s quiet for a second as you and Josh sip at your drinks. “He passes,” Josh says. 

“Yup. Flying colors.”

Just then you watch as Y/N pokes through the door, Corri and Paul on her tail. The two of you are quickly becoming accustomed to finding each other’s eyes in a crowd, as you are the very first person she sees when she walks in. Your stomach falls to your feet as you take her in… hair a mess from the busyness of the night, but still just as gorgeous as ever.

You step to the bar to order another round, adding on one Tito’s and sprite for her. Extra lime. After the bartender brings your drinks back to you, you step back over with Josh, waiting for her drink to be delivered to her. When she finally gets it, you watch as she shoots you a disapproving but playful glare from across the crowd, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she sips it anyway. 

“Talk to Isla any more after that big blow up?” Josh asks.

“No. Not at all,” you mumble. “Thank god.”

“Hm. Maybe she caught on finally.”

“Doubt it,” you disagree, feeling that strange guilty twinge in your gut again. 

A while later, you and Josh are mingling with the other guys and some of the crew as you feel the night becoming heavy and the liquor swirling in your bloodstream. Spirits are high, and you really like to think that the added security has put everyone a little more at ease, knowing that letting loose and relaxing feels easier now.

You split from Josh and find a seat at the bar next to Danny and Murph, interrupting their conversation about some TV show they are both binging. You try to listen in, but your attention is pulled away as you catch sight of Y/N finally making her way through the crowd, stopping and giving quick hellos to everyone as she walks by. You can tell her drink has been refilled, and her eyes pop to you every few seconds as she gets nearer. 

“Hey guys,” she finally says as she approaches you. Danny turns back around and stands from his seat, offering it to her.

“How’s it going?” you ask, patting the seat cover for her to join you and Murph.

“Good, the drinks here are really strong,” she laughs as she takes her seat, pulling the lime from the side of her glass and bringing it between her teeth. You watch as she licks her lips, hoping that you’ll be able to taste it on her later.

HER POV

You rest your chin on your fist as you listen to Jake and Murph talk. You know you must look positively enamored hanging on every word that flows between the two of them. You decide right then and there that you could listen to Jake talk forever, but even more you could watch Murph talk forever. Something about the two of them interacting has your blood pumping a little harder, and your skin growing warm. Jake’s eyes flick over to yours every couple of seconds, a small barely noticeable smile turning the corners of his mouth as he continues with his conversation. You really don’t have anything to add to it, but you are happy to be here, listening to them talk. 

Jake’s hand moves from his lap, his fingers gliding up and down your leg sending a chill up your spine. He moves them back to his own leg, touching you just enough to let you know he still wants you here, next to him. You grab your drink and take a sip from the tiny black straw, letting the lime flavored bubbles sweep over your tongue.  

You feel your purse start to buzz next to you, quickly pulling you from your blissful bubble. As you fish it out of your bag you see that Wes is calling, and you know it has to be important since he is still at the venue. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go take this, I’ll be right back, okay?” you say, turning towards Jake. 

His eyes glance to the screen, “Well, here, why don’t I just come with you.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. It will only be a second. Promise. Stay, you guys keep talking,” you offer. 

He purses his lips together and nods his head, his eyes telling you that he will be waiting for you.

You scurry out the door of the bar as you answer the call, finding a fairly crowded patio with space heaters. “Hey Wes, what’s up?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you, I know you’re out, but do you know where the second venue cooler went? It’s not in the greenroom or the jam room.”

You furrow your brow, vaguely remembering watching it walk out the door today. “I think that Jeremy from sound might have taken it back with his crew. I would also check the rigging crew room, stuff always seems to find its way in there,” you answer. 

You can hear him making his way around the venue, likely doing his final sign offs before they leave. 

“Ah! Here it is! Thanks so much, Y/N! Enjoy your day off tomorrow!” he says. 

“No problem, you too! Call me if you need anything!” you offer. 

“Will do, bye!”

You let out a sigh, happy that you were able to help him locate an item that definitely falls under your responsibility. You put your phone in your back pocket and turn around to head back inside, only to find that Murph is standing at the door with his eyes on you turning his hat from front to back on his head.

You straighten your shoulders a little as you walk towards him, feeling confident thanks to the alcohol in your system. 

“You didn’t need to follow me out here, you know…”

You see him smirk a little and lick his lips before he speaks, “Actually, I did.”

You look around at the people near you before turning back to him, “I don’t think anyone out here is really a threat, do you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I’ve been in this exact bar once, don’t care for a repeat of what happened last time I was here.”

“And that was?”

“A story for another time,” he winks. 

“Well, I don’t know what they told you, but I’m really not as fragile as they think I am,” you add. 

He grabs the door handle and motions for you to walk through, “That’s not something I’m willing to take a chance on. I don’t think women should have to go anywhere alone, especially pretty ones.”

You feel your heart pound in your chest at his admission, and you can barely feel yourself moving through the doorway. 

“Pretty, huh?” you smile, looking back at him over your shoulder. A smile is on his own face as he nods gently. 

“Very,” he confirms, causing your face to blush bright red just as you step up to the table. 

Jake takes in the sight of you with a questioning look, letting his eyes flick over to Murph then back to you. Murph returns to his seat looking completely unphased, as if he didn't just openly flirt with you.

“All good?” Jake asks, leaning over to whisper in your ear. 

You let your hand land on his thigh as your head leans into his lips, “Yeah, perfect.”

His eyes linger on you for a touch longer than usual, his hand brushing yours as it sits on his leg. He leans over letting his lips brush your ear, “I think I’m ready to head back…”

“Are you?” you taunt. 

“You joining me?” he asks.

“Is this my formal invitation?” you answer. 

“Meet me up front in five,” he replies. 

He turns back to the group talking, announcing that he is going to head back to the hotel but no one takes him up on his offer to leave.

“Would you like me to walk you, brother?” Murph asks, “I’m more than happy to.”

“I’ll grab Dean, but thanks man. Appreciate it,” Jake answers, giving him a courteous nod. 

He slides out of his seat and bids everyone a good evening, giving you a special look that tells you he will be waiting for you. 

You know it will look suspicious, but you also know that you should make your getaway before the others come back to the table. You wait a few minutes and tell Josh and Murph that you are also going to head out for the night, neither of them really putting the pieces together, or so you think. 

As you walk through the front door you see Jake, finishing out the last drag of a blunt, blowing the smoke up to the sky. 

“Hey beautiful,” his voice is gravely and deep as you step up to him. 

He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours as the two of you begin to walk back in the direction of your hotel. 

“Remember the first time you walked me back to the hotel?” you ask, calling on the memory of just a few short nights ago. 

“Sure do, kissed you in that restaurant and I’ve been a goner since,” he laughs, “Took everything in me not to kiss you again at your door.”

“You could’ve, you know, if you wanted to,” you tease. 

“I think things turned out okay, hmm?” he growls, gripping your hand a little tighter. 

The two of you make the short walk back to the hotel, dashing into the elevator before you’re seen by prying eyes. He presses the button for his floor, letting the elevator climb until the doors spring open with a ding. 

He starts to lead you to his room, stopping short and turning around, “Actually, I’m gonna grab something from the vending machine. Would you like anything?”

“Ummmm…No, I think I’m okay, just ready to take these shoes off,” you giggle. 

He hands you his room key, and nods for you to go ahead, “Just flip the latch for me, yeah?”

You nod and head down the hallway, watching him over your shoulder as he disappears around a corner. 

You tap his keycard to the door and step inside, finding it exactly how you left it. You toss your things onto the small chair in the corner, walking over to the window to take in the stunning view. He was right, it is pretty at night.

A minute or two later you hear him sliding into the room, shutting the door and locking it behind him. His arms are full as he deposits everything onto the dresser, taking in the room for the first time since he’d arrived in Paris. 

“S’nice room,” he mutters, walking over towards you. His hands slide around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder. His gaze finds the tower, lit and sparkling in the night. “Gonna take you there tomorrow.”

“Oh, are you?” you ask. 

“Mhmm, if you’ll let me,” he pauses, “Gotta see it the right way.”

“What exactly is the right way?” you tease. 

“With me. Obviously,” he goads.

You spin in his arms, facing him now. “Obviously.”

His hand slides up your body, coming to rest at the side of your neck as he leans forward pressing his lips to yours. Your arms circle him, deepening the kiss as you pull him closer letting your tongue slide against his. He tastes of alcohol and tobacco, a flavor you are becoming more and more fond of with each passing day. He backs you up against the window, placing his palms against the glass to box you in. His mouth never leaves yours, hot and desperate as his knee moves to part your legs. Your hands grip into his waist as you pull him closer, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. 

It’s not long until you are pushing his shirt off of his arms and tugging on the waistband of his pants, his hands undressing you in much the same fashion. Your bare ass is pressed to the glass window, only your bra left and his boxers. Deciding not to give the people of Paris a show, you push away from the window and walk him backwards to the bed, your lips still locked with his. 

A growl leaves his chest as you push him backwards, crawling across the bed over top of him. His hands find the clasp of your bra, unfastening it and quickly pulling it from your arms. His head cranes upward to take your nipple into his mouth, his hands pressing your hips down into his groin. His thumbs massage circles into the crease of your hips as you start to roll them against him, feeling his hot tongue lapping at your chest. 

“Can’t believe you played that whole show with my thong in your pocket,” you whine.

He pulls his mouth away from you, “Mmm, my good luck charm.” 

“You’re depraved,” you tease, feeling his length fully hard beneath his boxers. You roll your hips over him, eliciting a groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby… Been hard for you all fuckin’ night.”

“Yeah? You want me, Jake?” you ask, delivering a harder roll into his groin. 

“Yeah I fucking want you,” he says, flipping the two of you over until you’re settled on your back. “And I didn’t like you being all flushed when you came back into the bar tonight, the fucks’ all that about, huh?” he pauses, giving you a playful raise of his brow.

So he did pick up on it.

“Why? Are you feeling a little territorial? A little jealous?” you tease. 

“No, I’m not a jealous man, but I like being the one to make you blush,” he pauses, dropping his lips to your neck, “And the one to make you whine and scream,” he nips at your skin, “And the one to leave you flustered and breathless.”

“So do it then, Jacob,” you counter. 

He raises his brow at you again, giving you a playful smirk as he pushes up off the bed and kicks his boxers to the floor. He looks around the room for his suitcase before stopping at looking at you sprawled out on his bed. 

“You on the pill or the shot or anything?” he asks. 

“I’m on the pill,” you answer. “You don’t need to–”

“Thank fuck,” he growls moving back towards the bed. He runs his hand up your bare leg letting his lips meet yours again. You reach between you, grabbing his length as it hangs between the two of you. He is fully hard and warm to the touch, his blood pumping furiously as your fingers feel his pulse in his veins. 

“I want you like this,” he breathes, lowering his hips as you position the tip of his cock to your entrance. He fists himself at the base, taking over control from you as you move your arms to rest over your head. You stare up at him, brow furrowed in concentration as he swipes his tip through your wetness.

“God, fuck, you’re so hot sometimes I can’t stand it.”

“You’re one to talk, I have to watch you on stage every night,” you tease, bucking your hips up. 

“Patience, I’m getting there,” he says, teasing you with the tip as he presses in just slightly. “You like watching me on stage, baby?”

He presses in a little further, the unshielded warmth of his bare cock making your head spin. 

“So sexy,” you whine, “So sweaty.”

“Feels fuckin’ good up there, but feels better, here,” he says, pressing in completely. He stops for a moment, letting you adjust to him, both of you reveling in the feeling of each other without the barrier of a condom. 

“So much fuckin’ better here,” he breathes. 

You open your legs further to allow his hips room to move as he pulls back with a groan. He slams his hips back into you, his eyes locked in on yours. He hooks his hand under your knee and pulls your leg up around his hip. “Keep it there for me, okay?”

You nod as he starts to move his hips at a consistent pace, bracing himself on one hand as the other hand grips into the flesh of your ass. He uses it as leverage to pull you into each thrust, hitting you harder and deeper with every stroke. 

“You’re sinfully wet sweetheart,” he growls, his skin slapping into yours. “Almost feels too good.”

“So warm, so fuckin’ tight,” he continues, “Look out the window, look at that pretty view while I look at mine.”

You turn your head as he instructs, seeing a slightly obstructed view of the tower from the window. You can feel his eyes on you, studying you with every perfectly delivered thrust of his hips. 

“Fuck, Jake…” you whine, tightening around him. 

“Oh Jesus, fuck me, do that again,” he begs, a hot breath against your chest. 

You twist your hips as you clench around him, earning a groan from his chest.

“Goddamn, Y/N,” he pants. “Actually, flip over, face the window, want you to see it all.”

He pulls out of you and you flip to your stomach, feeling his hands as they grip into your hips to pull you up on all fours. 

“Yeah, baby, goddamn just like this, arch your back a little.” He pauses, running his fingers up your spine. “Yeah, yeah, good girl.”

You feel him press back into you, this angle much deeper and gives him more leverage. He uses it to his advantage as he slams into the back of you, the tinkling of the coins around his neck echoing through the room. You feel a drop of sweat as it drips from his face, sliding over the curve of your ass. You turn to look back at him, a sweating mess of pure sex. His skin is flushed pink and his hair is stuck to his neck as he grazes your cervix with each stroke of his hips. You can feel yourself getting close, and you’re sure he can feel the fluttering as you clench around him. 

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he asks, breathless. 

“So good baby, I’m so close, I need it,” you whine.

“Head forward, look at the pretty view, baby,” he says, pushing your face forward and grabbing a fist full of your hair. He grips into your roots pulling your head back as a groan leaves his chest. He feels impossibly hard inside of you, twitching and jerking as his hips start to falter. 

“Gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” he warns, “Perfect pussy so warm and tight, begging for me. Cum, baby, cum on my cock, want to feel you.”

His hand reaches around, his fingers swirling against your clit before circling the opening where his cock is buried inside you. “Stretched so perfect around me, goddamn, wet and fuckin’ perfect. You feel that? You feel your perfect pussy stretched out for my cock?”

His words send you tumbling head first into your orgasm, his name echoing around the room as it falls from your lips. Your arms feel weak as your upper half collapses down to the bed, his hips still drilling into you at a brutal pace. 

“Fuck me, you’re so gorgeous, feel so fuckin’ good when you cum for me sweetheart,” he pants. 

You squeeze him one more time, and it pushes him to the brink. You lift your head to turn and look at him, but he stops you, pushing your head back down. 

“Head down, baby,” he growls. 

Suddenly his hips stop and he pulls himself out of you, stroking his cock furiously as he lets go. It’s your name on his lips as his hot ropes of cum paint your back, in several forceful spurts. His breathing starts to even out, and you feel his hand as it grips into your ass, delivering a playful smack. 

“You look so fucking hot like this,” he mumbles. “Actually, stay like that, hold on.”

You feel him step off the bed, rifling around in his coat pocket. You see his feet come into view as he steps up to the side of the bed. Your eyes travel up to look at him, feeling his warm cum sliding further and further down your back. 

“Let me take a picture, beautiful. For me, won’t show your face, promise. You’re just stunning like this,” he asks. 

You look at him for a second, and you can tell he’s telling the truth, so with a sly grin you nod and give him your approval. 

“Fuck, yeah just stay like that,” he says, pushing your hair to the side as his cum slides down the hollow of your spine. 

You hear the camera on his phone as he takes a few pictures, quickly tossing it to the nightstand before tapping your ass and telling you you can lower yourself down to the bed. 

“Let me get a towel, be right back,” he says, letting his thumb brush across your lips. 

Seconds later you feel a warm towel on your back, wiping away his release. It feels nice, being taken care of like this, his gentle touch so vastly different from the man he was just five minutes ago. He cleans you up and returns the towel to the bathroom, giving you the chance to slide beneath the sheets. As he steps out of the bathroom he grabs a few things from the dresser and crawls into the bed next to you. You pull the sheets back for him as he moves towards the middle, pulling you into his side as you both lean against the headboard. 

He hands you a bottle of water, twisting the lid for you as you accept it from his hands. 

“Well thank you,” you blush. 

“I knew we would want these,” he laughs, twisting the lid of his own bottle. He takes a long drink and lets out a relaxed sigh, reaching over to his nightstand again to grab something else. He presents a bag of peanut M&M’s, tearing the yellow package and pouring a few into his hand. He holds it out to you nodding for you to take some. 

“And here I was thinking that the M&M’s on the rider were for Sam,” you giggle, grabbing a few.

“Those would be for me,”  he winks, tossing the rest into his mouth. “But he’s been known to partake.”

“Noted,” you smile. 

He hands you a few more, shaking the bag into his palm, “Saw you singing along tonight, you think you’ve got a favorite so far?”

You can tell he is trying to seem casual when he asks, but you know he is dying to know what you think of his music. 

“Which one was I singing along with?” you ask.

“Fate of the Faithful, I believe. S’good one, good taste,” he laughs, nudging you with his elbow. 

“Oh, yeah, I like that one. That’s when you switch to that small black guitar,” you answer. 

“You notice’ that?” he asks, as if the moment is insignificant. 

“Of course,” you answer, turning to look at him, “Notice everything you do, if we’re being honest.”

“Can I be honest?” he asks, bringing his water to his lips. 

“Sure,” you answer, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I think you’re gorgeous, and I think you’re smart, and funny, and I’m really, really into you, Y/N.”

Just as you open your mouth to speak, a knock sounds at the door. Both of you snap your heads in its direction, Jake pulling the sheets off of him and jumping out of the bed. He grabs his boxers from the floor and pulls them on, quickly tossing you your own clothes as he rushes over to the door. You sit up in the bed, pulling your shirt over your head as he looks through the peephole. 

He rushes back over to the bed muttering curses under his breath as he looks at you, “Hey, I– I need you to– ahh, fuck, I need you to go in the bathroom for a minute,” he says, reaching his hand out to you to grasp yours. He helps you up from the bed, grabbing your water and ushering you into the bathroom with your arm full of clothes. 

“Just give me a few minutes, it’s Sam. I’m gonna kick him out, I just need a minute, okay? I’m sorry. Only a second, I swear,” he pleads, kissing your cheek and shutting the bathroom door before you have time to protest. 

Half a second later you hear the door open, and Sam’s booming voice as he walks into the room. The sound is muffled by the bathroom door but you can still hear them talking clear as day. Your heart is pounding as you hide in the dark bathroom, trying to silently redress yourself. 

“Why’d you leave so early?” Sam asks. 

“Dunno, just tired after the show I guess,” Jake answers, doing his best to sound genuine. 

“Oh, did I wake you up?” he asks. 

“Was just getting in bed actually,” Jake responds.

“Well I won’t keep you long, I just– I wanted to talk to you. I probably have had too much to drink– I just, you know I listen to you so I was hoping I could vent to you a little,” he says, tapping his hand on the wall. 

“Yeah, sure, what’s going on? You okay?” Jake asks. 

You feel guilty listening in on their conversation, but what else were you supposed to do?

“It’s Lyla, man, something is weird. She’s just acting so…strange. I’ve tried to talk to her about it the past few nights but she's just kinda shutting me out. I don’t know. Have you talked to her lately?” he asks. 

“No, no, I haven’t actually. Suppose that’s weird now that I think about it. Her or Mia actually.” 

“She’s just been on her phone a lot lately, texting, and taking calls at weird times. I don’t know, it’s probably nothing, just– it’s got me wiggin’ out kinda,” he pauses, “I gotta pee, hold on.”

“Wait! Sam, hold on uh, do you think maybe it’s um, just the time difference from the US? Maybe it’s normal time there, huh?” you can hear the panic in his voice, he is stalling giving you time to hide. You step into the shower, pulling the curtain closed as silently as possible, knowing that this is absolutely the last place you would ever want to be found. 

“Yeah, guess it could be,” Sam answers, twisting the bathroom door knob and turning on the light. You hold your breath as he steps up to the toilet, clamping your eyes shut as you grip your arms to your chest. 

This is the worst possible situation you could have ever found yourself in.

“I don’t know, I mean, what’s the time difference from here to home? You having to stay up late to deal with that shit or get up early or whatever? How’s all that going, actually? You two get it figured out? Hardly seen you on your phone lately,” Sam says, flushing the toilet as he finishes peeing. 

His question strikes you as odd, but you chalk it up to work and let it pass. You’re more worried about Sam leaving the bathroom without noticing you in the shower. He washes his hands and turns off the light, and you finally release the breath you held the entire time he was in the bathroom. Safe.

“Yeah, actually I have just been enjoying my time here. Don’t want to be on my phone. Occupying my mind and time with other more interesting things,” Jake answers, and you feel your chest grow warm. 

“Yeah, I bet it’s a nice break. I know you’ve been going through this shit for a while. I’ve heard all about it from Lyla.”

What? What shit?

“If you ever wanna talk about it, you know I’m here,” Sam offers.

“Nothing to talk about, really,” Jake says. 

“You sure about that? Lyla’s phone has been blowing up lately.” 

“Yeah. Positive. Nothing to talk about,” he answers firmly, his voice growing louder as the two of them move closer to the door. 

You feel a sinking feeling wash over you. You can tell Jake is lying, not only to Sam, but also to you. 

“Well, if you hear anything from Lyla let me know. Hey, what you getting into tomorrow?” he asks. 

“I think I’m just gonna go sight-seeing a little. Have a few spots I want to check out,” he answers.  

“Lyla is of course dragging me out to god knows where, maybe we can meet up for drinks or something?”

“Yeah, brother, sounds good. Call me if you need me, okay?” Jake says, opening the hotel room door. 

“I will. Night.”

“Night, Sammy boy,” he answers, shutting the door and locking it behind him. 

You hear the bathroom door fly open, and the overhead light flickers on as he pulls the shower curtain open. 

“Baby–” he pauses, reaching his hand out to you to help you out of the shower. He can tell your demeanor has changed, his face dropping as he realizes what all you just overheard. “You okay? How much did you hear?”

“All of it, Jake,” you answer. “What was he talking about? Is…is there something that I should know?”

His face drops again, his eyes flicking to yours as he searches them. He swallows nervously and takes a deep breath, licking his lips as he shakes his head. 

“Nothing, he was just talking about— just work stuff. No, there’s nothing. It’s nothing.”

“You promise?” you ask, begging for the truth. 

“I promise,” he pauses, pulling you out of the bathroom. “Nothing you need to worry about. Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

You nod your head and follow him back to the bed, stripping out of your clothes again and crawling into the bed. He slides in next to you, pulling you into his chest as he turns off the lamp, kissing your head as he settles into his pillow. As you lie sleepless in the bed, you can’t help the looming feeling that something isn’t right. 

Your eyes switch over to the glistening and glittering lights on the Eiffel Tower, a little blurred from the curtain hanging across the window. Jake’s already deep breathing beside you, and you begin to replay everything you heard Sam say in the bathroom. 

‘You two…time difference…been going through this shit for a while?’

What shit? 

You get real with yourself for a second, taking a page from Ruth’s book. 

You and Jake are not an item. There’s never been a line drawn in the sand, there’s never been a conversation about anything pertaining to that subject at all, really. Your stomach turns at the thought of him actually having someone waiting for him at home. From the way Sam made it sound, and the verbiage he had used, it almost sounded like exactly that. 

Hell, you hardly know Jake from Adam aside from sharing some music and surface-level conversation. You don’t know a thing about his history, home life, or much about his past at all. Neither of you ever even asked the other if you were single. 

Shit… could he…? 

But the words he said just a second before Sam knocked on the door suddenly break through your manic thoughts. He’s really into you, thinks you’re gorgeous and smart… Why would he say those things if he isn’t looking for something more?

You admit to yourself that your stance on this…relationship so far has been nothing but someone to flirt with and sleep with, spend your free time and learn about one another. Not really ever once have you thought past anything but casualness. But, had he? A full-on relationship is the furthest thing from your plans. You didn’t come here looking for that.

The thoughts swimming in your mind make you physically shake your head to scatter them. You can still feel the tiniest burning sensation on your back from his release, and you can smell the scent of his cologne and sweat still heavy on your skin. 

Could this explain why Mia and Lyla have been acting so strangely, and why Jake wanted to hide you in the shower so quickly? The sleepiness begins to overtake your body, your eyes flashing with bright bursting colors as your body relaxes against his. 

Jake wouldn’t lie. 

Would he?

.

.

.

.

.

Taglist: @britney-gvf @gretavanmoon @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fic #jake kiszka #jacob thomas kiszka #greta van fluff #gvf smut #gvf fic #gvf series #jake gvf #gvf #jake kiszka smut #jacob kiszka #gretavangroupie #jtk x reader #gretavanfluff #gretavanmoon #greta van angst #greta van fleet fic #jake kiskza x reader #Jacob Kiszka #josh kiszka #Daniel wagner #sam kiszka #the ripe and the ruin

[bringmefoxgloves]

sometimes i seriously think about getting a wheelchair. and a shower seat.

#wes babbles #even though the home i’m in rn is not set up for any sort of wheelchair accessibility #but rn i’m exhausted just sitting up #let alone trying to walk anywhere #also this thought might be brought on by the fact every single one of my joints hurt #from my neck down to my toes #i think it’s because my body is reacting with inflammation because i’ve been bit by mosquitoes over the past two evenings #when i go outside to stumble around as i’m watering the garden #but i can’t do it any time other than the evening hours because it’s too hot outside #so i’m anticipating getting bit more over the coming weeks #it’s gonna be hell for my body

[bettysupremacy]

Could I request something with James? Where reader lashes out at him and she had arguments with her ex a lot and expected this (her lash out) to get into a really big argument but he’s just like „okay noted“ and super kind about it (a little bit inspired by all my ghosts by lizzy)

(You can obviously change stuff to your liking and no pressure)

all hail lizzy mcalpine. i loved this request and i love james! thank you!

“Im serious, James!” You exclaim, a little louder than necessary. “I miss you! You’re always at practice, or with the boys, and I love the boys! But I miss you!”

He pauses in the doorway, startled by your reaction.

Remus and Sirius miss me too, you expect him to say, or rather, I can’t miss rugby cause you miss me a little more. You anticipate the sting of his words before they come, bracing yourself as you lean back against the kitchen countertop. They don’t come.

“And I miss your hugs.” You tear up pitifully, trying again, rather weakly, as he walks over. You don’t want an argument, but why isn’t it coming? “You’ve been gone so much. You know I hate doing the dishes.”

He grabs ahold of your elbow, his thumb digging into the crease as he pulls you close. Your palms dig into your eyes as your forehead dips against his chest. The way your shoulders shake aches him. He should never be the reason for your tears.

He’s been gone more recently, yes, and he feels terrible about it. If he’s not at rugby, the boys want to see him, and if he’s not with the boys, he’s at rugby. He’s missed you so much recently, he just didn’t know you mirrored his emotions.

“I’m the worst,” James says sincerely. “I didn’t know I was making you feel like this.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, stress evident in your choked voice. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or guilty, by crying I mean.”

He rocks you back and forth, arms securely over your shoulders. His embrace is a little tight, but this is the longest hug you’ve had this week and you can’t bring yourself to say something.

“Please don’t say that, please don’t feel bad for crying.”

“It’s totally manipulative though, I know, I’m sorry.”

He pulls back, searching for something in your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just-“

He looks so sad and confused as you pause midway. Helpless, like he doesn’t know what to do with you. Quietly, you feel bad for giving him the crease between his brows.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” James appalls. “I’m going mad knowing I’m the dolt that made you feel like this.”

“James-“

“I’d totally beat someone up if they treated you like this, I would hate them forever.”

“Stop.”

“No, seriously!” He doubles down. “I would never forgive them.”

He’s so unapologetically him it aches you deeply. He’s rosy, smiles and boyish giggles. Warm in the summer, and warm in the winter. Radiating a kind of glow that only very special people are able to emanate. Sometimes you secretly feel like you’ll never be able to glow like him, but he always manages to bring it out of you when you’re around him.

You frown suddenly. “I’m so tired of missing you, Jamie.”

“I miss you too, lovely.” He’s serious again. “How can we get through this?”

You shrug, unused to this gentle treatment you so desperately deserve.

“Should we install weekly dates, hmm?” James asks. “We should, shouldn’t we?”

You shrug again feeling weak with emotion.

“Or tell the boys to bugger off,” he continues without giving you room to speak. “You’re much too kind to say it but I know, my love.”

You laugh quietly, nudging your cheek against his shoulder. He’s fond, smiling as he watches down to you.

“Oh, my girl,” he croons, grabbing your warm face to cradle. “Totally not to pull the victim card, but I missed you so much more.”

“Really?”

“I moon over you while you’re away. The boys are sick of it.”

He leans down nuzzling his cheek against yours, pulling back to kiss the corner of your mouth, the side of your nose, the apple of your cheek. You don’t know what to do with yourself, letting your wringing hands float up to hold his shoulders.

“Thank you for telling me.” He says honestly.

You reel earnestly. Only James Potter could thank you for trying to start an argument.

“You’re welcome.”

#james potter x you #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james x reader #james potter fic #james x you #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter #james potter comfort #james potter x y/n #james potter x y/n fluff #james potter x wife!reader #james potter x fem!reader #marauders x y/n #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction

[suashii]

— 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝓊𝓈𝓉 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 2.1k wc. ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ step-brother!yuta ﾉ stepcest ﾉ dubcon (via alcohol) ﾉ hand job ﾉ mentions of blow jobs

when your mother remarries and yuta comes into your life to fill the role of step-brother, you aren’t exactly sure what to expect.

you’ve never had a brother before, no one to threaten boys in an attempt to discourage them from breaking your heart or annoy you when you have friends over for the night. and you anticipate that he’ll fit the mold, fall into the standard that’s been set by your friends. as unfamiliar as you are with siblings of the male variety—you don’t consider yuta���s behavior as brotherly.

he’s kind, and you suppose that’s a trait that can be attached to brothers—but not in the way yuta is nice. there’s something… different about the way he smiles at you, like he’s thinking about things other than what you’re talking about, like there's something else on his mind that you aren’t privy to. it’s a pretty smile, you acknowledge every time you see, but it makes you a bit uneasy.

the things he does for you feel more like acts boyfriends take on—opening doors for you, zipping up your coat, offering to take your makeup off after a long day. it’s hard to turn him away or tell him no, especially when he insists on helping you out. how can you deny him when he wears a pout that’s practically begging for your permission to lend a hand? and, as he says, he’s your brother, after all.

you’re close, but not in the way siblings should be. he tells you a lot, things that he shouldn’t feel comfortable telling his sister, things about his relationships that you have no business knowing, that make your cheeks warm up and your teeth bite down on your lip. he asks about yours, too, curious to know whether or not the boys you bring around are satisfying you, “the way they should be,” he likes to say. you’re never quite sure how to answer him or just why he’s so interested in parts of your life that are meant to be private.

things have gotten even stranger since the two of you moved out of your parent’s home, relocating to live on your own and start lives outside of your family unit. yuta still makes an effort to visit you often, going out of his way to make sure the apartment you end up renting isn't too far from his. you’re sure that if it were up to him, he’d have you living in his spare room.

he’s over your place now with the intention of “catching up” despite seeing you only a week ago. his presence in your home has become a normal one, so much so that you’ve gone out of your way to get him his own pair of slippers and even make sure that your fridge is always stocked with enough food for two.

neither of you has paid the dinner you made much mind, you focusing on your wine and yuta focusing on you. you’ve almost gotten used to being the subject of his dark stare, but you’ll admit that meeting it is a little easier with alcohol in your system. another sip of the beverage is enough for you to find your voice. “so, how’s that girl you’ve been seeing?”

whether it’s because your living room is dimly lit or because you’re starting to feel the effects of the wine, you swear you see yuta deflate with your question. the lighting isn’t tricking you—his shoulders do slump a bit upon hearing your query. he knows he’s forthcoming with information regarding his relationships but he thought he made the fact clear; that all of these girls are simply placeholders for the one he truly wants. you don’t seem to have caught on. “i’m not seeing her anymore.”

you snort, swirling your wine in its glass. “what was it about this one?”

yuta’s turnover rate with girlfriends is something to gawk at—you don’t think you could count the number of women he’s wooed over the years even if you tried… not that you’ve ever found yourself keeping track. it should be a glaring red flag, how quickly he moves on from one to the next without batting an eye, but you merely chalk it up to him being a bit of a player. and that much should mean nothing to you. guys who sleep around aren’t your type and even if you didn’t mind the lifestyle, yuta is off-limits.

not that you’ve ever thought of him in that way.

yuta shrugs. “she just wasn’t right for me.”

“is anyone?” a giggle bubbles up from your chest and it makes yuta’s heart jump, bang against his ribcage like it’s trying to escape and make its way into your hands. he’s met with a sick thought, a little voice in the back of his head whispering that your hands are where his heart belongs. “you know, you’re super picky.”

he grins at your claim. it wouldn’t be untrue to say that he has acquired a specific taste, a fixed hunger, over the past few years. “picky” isn’t quite the right word—he prefers “particular”. “i’m not, i just know what i want.”

you nod, bringing your glass to your lips. “and what’s that?”

“you.”

the little bit of wine that made it into your mouth is sputtered back into the glass as yuta’s confession wafts through the air. you’re too busy trying to compose yourself to see the way the corners of yuta’s mouth twitch at your reaction—how his gaze falls to your lips to watch how you lick them to clean up the mess of wine.

 you’ve always thought that he’s treated you like someone other than a sister but you never imagined he’d come right out and say it, and so shamelessly, at that. your cheeks heat up as the single word hangs in the air, the warmth spreading up to the tips of your ears and some other place that you try not to acknowledge.

what’s worse, the admission doesn’t make your stomach churn in disgust. it doesn’t urge you to stand up and kick him out—tell him not to come back and leave you alone for good. because as much as you like to deny it, to push those sickening feelings down into the deepest, darkest depths of you, there’s a piece of you that feels the same.

“you’ve thought about it, too, haven’t you?” yuta’s voice cuts through the thick, suffocating air surrounding you. there’s an edge to his tone that you haven’t heard before that has you dragging your bashful gaze up to his.

“it’s okay.  there’s nothing wrong with it,” he reassures you as if he can hear the doubts swimming in your head like angry piranhas. his hand finds yours and you jump at the contact but you don’t pull away. the pad of his thumb runs over your knuckles, calloused skin comforting you in a way it shouldn’t as he continues. “we’re not actually related—only by title.”

“yeah but… what would people think?” it’s taboo, you know that much—it’s why you’ve been so hellbent on suppressing those nagging feelings of attraction throughout the years. though, with his confession now out in the open, those very feelings are trying to crawl their way up from the depths of your chest—they’re surfacing.

“no one has to know.” yuta lightly shakes his head to emphasize his point. the eyes staring you down are glistening with desire, like your question has given the man hope for a long sought-after fantasy. “we can keep it between us… our little secret.”

you chew the inside of your cheek as you ponder over his suggestion. the rational part of you is screaming to snatch your hand away and point him to the door but the part of you led by longing and lust urges you to stay put, to see this through. the two thoughts are like a floating angel and devil on each of your shoulders, both of them whispering in your ear, playing tug-of-war to see which side will win your favor. 

the push you need to make a decision comes in the form of yuta himself, the man lifting your hand from your lap to his lips. a light kiss brushes your knuckles before he guides your palm to the tent between his legs. you suck in a surprised gasp at the contact your hand makes with the hard bulge.

 “see what you do to me?” yuta breathes out, light and airy, “only you can do this to me.” 

a twisted sense of pride sprouts in your chest upon hearing his declaration. yuta has never hidden the fact that you’re special to him but you never imagined just how special that was. the statement gives you the confidence to touch him of your own will, hand tentatively rubbing over his clothed erection.

yuta lets out a shattered breath and the sound has your hand stilling and your gaze darting up to his—like a bunny spooked by unexpected commotion. his free hand makes its way up to cradle the side of your face, thumb running up and down your cheek. “keep going, baby.”

you swallow and nod your head, hand picking up where it left off in its exploration over his jeans. as pretty as the quiet moans yuta releases into the air are, you can’t help but think it would feel better—for the both of you—if there wasn’t a denim barrier between the two of you.

your fingers reluctantly reach for his belt before pausing in their path. you look up at him through your eyelashes. “c-can i?”

yuta didn’t think it was possible for him to get even more turned on—not after your initial acceptance, not after he finally felt your touch, but your questions has his pants growing uncomfortably tighter. you’ve always been cute in his eyes but your asking for permission gives him all the more reason to find you absolutely adorable. “please.”

dark eyes follow your fingers as they fumble to unbuckle the man’s belt. you’re not sure whether your shaky hands are due to nerves or excitement but the trembling doesn’t go unnoticed by yuta and when you get his pants and boxers down his hips, he places a steady hand on your quivering one.

it’s warm and big around yours and you don’t question his action, only let him take your hand, guide it to the cock you’ve just pulled out. you’re no longer afraid to admit that you’ve thought about it before—what yuta’s cock looked like. it’s different seeing the real thing and you find your mouth drying with the sight, lips parted as yuta continues to steer your hand.

both of you gasp when your palm meets his skin, dragging beads of precum down yuta’s shaft with his guidance. beyond your mingled breaths, the lewd squelching that accompanies each assisted stroke of yuta’s cock sounds in the otherwise quiet air.

yuta grunts as he helps you jerk his cock, a pleasure he’s never felt before washing over him. “f-fuck—” he chokes out, “i knew you’d feel this good.”

your hand alone is better than any mouth or pussy he’s been in—it fits like a glove, fingers grazing every vein just right, brushing over his slit, squeezing his shaft. god—if your hand feels this good, yuta can only imagine what it’ll be like to have your lips wrapped around him, to be buried in the warmth of your cunt. he wonders if you know just what effect you have on him, if you’re aware of how much of a mess the mere thought of you turns him into. 

the moment you look up at him with those doe-ish eyes of yours, he can’t hold out any longer.

and with a series of strangled moans, yuta comes, ropes of warm cum shooting over your joined hands. you can feel him soften in your hand as you stroke his cock through his high, his musical whimpers meeting your ears.

when he finds his voice, yuta speaks up. “made me come so good.”

his hand finally lifts from yours and you’d complain about the cold, empty feeling if it wasn’t relocated beneath your chin. yuta tips your head up, leaning down to steal a kiss. his lips are pillowy and soft as they dance with yours and you moan into his mouth when his tongue seeks yours. it’s a messy, wet kiss, but one that has you yearning for more—more of his lips, more of his cock, more of him.

you let out a muffled squeal when you feel yourself reclining, yuta’s weight and imposing presence hovering above you as you come to lie back on the couch. you suck in a breath after yuta pulls away. he presses his forehead against yours, meeting your widened gaze.

“let me take care of you, baby.”

heyooo ! this is my first time writing a solo piece for yuta — it was fun! hope you enjoyed and if you did, consider reblogging and offering some feedback :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuta smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #𐙚 after hours #cw stepcest

[glorysbox]

breeding w di Leon ??????????😩😩

leon x afab!reader

wc: 1.8k

tags: explicitly 18+, breeding obvs, pregnancy mention, reader has breasts

“I’m getting old.” Leon mutters, pausing momentarily to sip at his mug full of coffee that you’d brewed for him a few moments earlier. You raise an eyebrow at this; head turning ever so slightly to meet his gaze. It’s been a few weeks since he’d been on the mission to Alcatraz. There’s been a personality shift that’s come over him in this time—at first, you just chalked it up to self-reflection from a near death experience.

Maybe there’s something else to it.

“You keep saying that,” you note, attention back on the kitchen counter as you prepare breakfast for the both of you. “You’re not.”

“I am. You can’t deny it. And you know, well…” he sighs, setting the mug down. “I’ve been thinking about some things. About us.”

This gets your attention. You turn fully to face him now.

He stands, advancing towards you, trapping you in between his body and the counter behind you. Leon’s lips are on yours nearly immediately—and while you appreciate the gesture and the taste of hazelnut coffee creamer that lingers in his mouth, you’re feeling a bit…

Nervous.

Your nerves quickly shift into a feeling of something else, the sensation of Leon’s hands squeezing on your waist quickening your heartbeat—that familiar aching between your thighs reddening your face at his touch. His eyes are on you as you part, examining the pretty slopes and curves of your face—but your nerves quickly shift back to that feeling of uncertainty.

“I love you,” he starts, hands furthering up your torso. One hand runs over the curve of your stomach, shifting back to the fat of your hip. “And I’ve been thinking about just how good you’d look pregnant.”

Your breath comes out in slight pants at the feeling of his hands tracing over the contour of your body. Leon leans in, placing feather-light kisses over the soft skin of your neck—the feeling of his lips and the prickle of his stubble admittedly making your knees weak. He smells good, like home; like aftershave and cologne from the night before when he’d fallen asleep with his arms around you.

His hands snake up the long shirt that you’re wearing—one of his that you’d fished from his dresser ages ago—traveling from your waist up to cup your breasts. His tongue runs over the shell of your ear, warm breath fanning over the sensitive feel of your skin. You shudder.

“Think about it. Me, you, a family…” Leon’s tone is hushed as he speaks in your ear, thumb toying at the sensitive peaks of your nipple. You feel him smile as he places a kiss on your temple, something you can hardly focus on from the feel of his hand caressing your breasts. “Don’t you want that?”

“I—” Your breath hitches at the feeling of deft fingertips running along the now sodden cotton of your panties, thighs shifting and molding around the shape of his hand between your thighs. “I… yes, of course. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but…”

“But?” He questions, tugging the wet fabric aside enough for his fingers to drag along your sticky folds. Leon’s breath fans on your neck, his cock stiff against the inside of your thigh. It’s thick and hard and throbbing and has your walls clenching around nothing—needy from just the idea of him being inside of you.

“But…” Your voice is low, teetering out pathetically at the feeling of the pad of his thumb toying with your clit. His movements are slow and methodical, circling—almost too much while simultaneously being not enough. “Your job, and…”

The way your bottom lip catches in your teeth makes him want to kiss you—and fill you with his cum—all the more. It’s been plaguing his thoughts ever since Alcatraz.

“We can work that out,” he mumbles, finger hovering around your entrance, collecting the arousal that seeps from you in anticipation. Your nails dig into the muscle of his forearm, head hanging low at the feeling of the digit threatening to breach inside of you. It’s too much. But not enough. “Work’s been slowing down. Doubt that they’d want to keep an old man like me out on the field too long anyway.”

You go to speak—you want to scold him for calling himself old, even though it’s undeniably true—but you’re cut off by the sound of your own whine at the feeling of his finger pushing its way inside of you.

He only goes as far as the first knuckle… but the gasp that falls from your lips coupled with a low moan has him a bit too eager to hear more from you. Leon inserts a second finger, the pad of his thumb pressing a fleeting amount of pressure on the sensitive bud of your clit. He’s patient as he finger-fucks you, scissoring you open with methodical movements that have your knees weak and your face hot.

You’re too busy whining his name to realize the way he’s looking at you.

Too needy to notice the way his cock throbs at the feeling of your wetness around his fingers; too drunk on his touch to see the way that his blue eyes are trained so intently on the sight of his fingers slipping out of you and pushing their way back inside. He slides his fingers out of you, marveling at the strings of sticky arousal that cling to them.

“So,” he pauses momentarily—brings his fingers to his tongue—and wraps his lips around them. “Did I convince you?”

You nod.

It’s not long before you feel the coldness of his fingers—wet from you and from his own mouth—hooking along the lace hem of your underwear to tug them down. The cotton pools at your ankles.

“You’re fucking me on the counter?” The question falls from your lips breathlessly; the feeling of his hand squeezing at the fat of your ass eliciting more noise from you than you’d be willing to admit.

“Sure am,” he mutters, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he pulls the fabric of his pants down just enough to free his cock. “Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to make up for this. I intend on—“

He hoists you up properly, arm keeping you suspended in the air, eyes on the slick sticky mess that’s littered your thighs. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist. The head of his cock prods at your entrance—leaking precum enough to leave you wondering if he’d left a sticky stain on the cotton of his gray boxers.

“—stuffing you full of cum everyday until I see a positive test.”

Something tells you that he plans to make good on his promise.

He slides into you slowly; the pace agonizing as his cock stretches and splits you open—your walls shaping around his size, nails digging further into the skin of his arm. You shudder at the sound of his voice in your ear; low and needy and whiny for the feeling of the warmth of your walls instinctively gripping around his shaft.

“Leon,” he audibly groans at the sound of his name from your lips—how breathless and pretty and needy you sound for him. “Please, I—“

His fingers leave indents in the skin of your ass, his hips pressing into you so agonizingly slow to the point where you’re beginning to ache from the feeling of needing him so desperately.

“Come on,” Leon buries himself to the hilt—reveling at the feeling of the softness of your body against his. The granite edge of the counter digs at your back; a non-issue considering the fact that you’re struggling to keep your composure at the feeling of Leon balls deep inside of you. “You can take it.”

You nod.

Crescent moon shaped indentations are left on the muscle of his back, red and angry—unnoticed by the feeling of him plunging into you; his hips flush against yours with each slip of his cock inside of you. Sticky strings of arousal begin to line down his thighs—the creamy ring pooling at the base of his cock fueling the pathetic whimpers that slip from your and his lips.

Leon roughly fucks into you, pace unforgiving as your insides uncontrollably quiver and squeeze around him. You pray that no one can hear the both of you through the opened window of your kitchen—the sound of his balls slapping against your skin entirely too loud—coupled with the noisy moans that seep from your lips and the low grunts that seep from his. You can hardly tell the color of his eyes; his pupils blown so wide that you’d mistake them for brown if you weren’t aware they were blue.

He leans forward—hips still snapping against your own—and presses his lips against your own. It’s uncoordinated. It’s needy. It’s wet and sloppy as he struggles to focus on the fact that he’s supposed to be kissing you when you feel so good and tight and wet and warm around him.

He greedily tongues at your lips and greedily ruts into your pussy, movements bordering on feral at the feeling of you and the thought of stuffing you with his cum. The pretty noises that fall from your mouth drive him forward, lips still on your own as he swallows every semblance of a mewl that you make from the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

Leon pulls away for a moment—lips reattaching to your neck, trailing to your throat, savoring the taste of your skin. He’s losing himself. Losing himself to the overwhelming urge to put a baby in you; to the idea of your body softening and breasts swelling and hips widening—to the idea of just how perfect you’d look with his kid in you.

You squeal at the feeling of the pad of his thumb on your clit, thighs clenching and trembling and shaking around his waist—nails digging further into the meat of his back as his relentless pace falters and rhythm stutters towards sloppiness. Leon coaxes you further towards your orgasm, motion of his thumbs pulling an orgasm from your swollen, throbbing clit; the pulsating of your walls pulling him deeper into you and effectively milking his cock.

The sight of you—back arching, legs trembling, jaw slack, body spasming—it’s too much. His cock twitches, his hips sputter; his grip on you borders on pain—and you can’t do anything but take it. You feel it before you realize it. You feel the slight quiver of his body against yours. You feel his lips on your throat, tongue pressing on the rapid pulsing of the vein on your neck. You feel the warm, sticky ropes of his cum that he’d stuffed in you with no shame.

He places slow kisses along your jawline—cock still stuffed in you, plugging his cum inside—and again, you feel the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Mm.” Leon’s voice is barely audible as he mutters in your ear. “S’ not enough. Let me give you some more.”

#i hate this so much i didnt even wanna burden my beta reader with checking it #nsydfw #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #get this fic out of my sight pls.

[onelittlespiral]

FML:Relax

From the moment I arrived, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had come on vacation to kick back for a few days and get some action, but the resort had nearly no women and was instead populated with almost all men. They seemed like nice guys when I talked to them, certainly my kind of guys with how jacked they were. Or at least I thought so.

“Hey cutie, wanna come spend some time with daddy?”

“A newbie! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle and sweet with you.”

“You looking to top or bottom?”

I realized I must have come on the Gay Days, and the men there were not shy about coming on to me. I tried to politely excuse myself whenever they turned the topic to sex. I spent a lot of time at the pool trying to just relax and have a good time, but it was starting to tick me off.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before.”

A man came and sat next to me. He was a scruffy guy, tanned and huge like most of the rest of them. The scent of sunscreen and BO rolled off him. His arms were wrapped in some nerdy tattoos but their size clearly showed he worked out hard. If he wasn’t here this week I would assume him to be a good pick for a gym bud.

“Yeah, first time. Didn’t realize I booked…uh…this week. Not really my scene.”

Something in his demeanor changed. It was hard to describe, but I felt a lot more at ease. He leaned over and began whisper to me,

“If I’m being honest. It isn’t much for me either. But fuck these gay guys know how to party. They’ve got just about anything you could want to take, and basically just pass the shit around. You ever actually tried poppers? I was fucked up bro.”

Maybe it was finally meeting another straight guy but I began relaxing.

He continued, “I got some stashed if you want to swing by and try some shit out.”

Maybe this vacation wouldn’t be such a wash.

I stopped by his room later that afternoon. He greeted me at the door and invited me in as he promised to show off the goods. The room was trashed. The floor was strewn with dirty shirts, shorts, and jockstraps. Shot glasses and beers were stuck to the tables. The bed was drenched in sweat. I stepped in and took a seat on the couch, cautions to avoid the mess. He sat down next to me.

“So, what have you got?”

“You now babe,” he said, throwing his arm in the air.

“Whaaaa…haaa” I started before my brain was afloat.

I slowly leaned forward, drawn in by the thick musk that radiated from his pit. I tried to resist but soon my nose was pressed against it as his sweat filled my brain. I tried to pull back but he rested his arm against the back of my head, pinning me as my brain shut down on the fumes. It wasn’t long before my tongue lolled out of my mouth.

“There you go. Relax. Good boy.”

Good boy. It echoed in my brain, bouncing till it was the only thought left. I quivered in anticipation as I continued to drink in his scent and let his hair tickle my face.

“Yeah, lap it up big boy. This is right where you belong. It was designed just for you, to trap guys and help them fit in a bit more.”

What did he mean by that? But as he told me to lap it up, it was no longer good enough to just smell. I gave a hesitant lick. It only took one as his sweat swam across my mind. All functionality shut down as I worshipped that pit. As I did, I began to feel a change. Deep within an itch, a need developed. A need to be desired by this man… no. To be desired by men. Any who would have me. I felt a new power flow through me, a revitalized energy and strength. He pulled my dumbstruck face out of his pit and gave my hair a quick tousle. His hand glided down my cheek to my chin, and with a firm flick of his wrist pulled my lips to his. He pressed my face to his in a deep kiss as new memories filled my mind. Memories of long nights dancing and drinking at bars. Days working out getting shredded before hitting the sauna for some fun. Of pride parades and glitter in my beard. The longer he kissed me the more I felt myself grow completely comfortable in his arms. I belonged here, with all the hottest guys living it up for a week at the resort. I had been coming here for years to show off, party hard, and fuck into the early morning. My old self was being flushed away, leaking out of my cock, while the new personality filled in the gaps.

My body began to change where his hands brushed over my body. Arms swelled as biceps grew to mounds on my arms. Pecs hung heavy with muscle. Thighs and legs sent slow rips through my shorts until they had burst through, leaving my swelling cock to fight the jockstrap underneath. Feet inched across the floor as my toes curled from the strain. Every inch writhed beneath his touch. He pulled me back to inspect me.

“Damn you’re turning out well, some of my finest work.”

I mumbled in agreement, still stuck in a state of ecstasy as I felt new power surging through me. “Time to seal the deal.”

He slid his jock down, and the full force of his sweat and musk sent my brain swimming. I couldn’t resist as he slid his cock down my open throat, balls deep, and began face fucking me. As his bush filled my nostrils, pre slid down my throat in a steady stream. I felt warm all over, as a deep tan set in. I had come to this resort for years and loved sunbathing and showing off my muscles. The heat persisted, turning to a sweat, the sweat turning to a deep funk. It was the same smell invading my mind and body as he continued to thrust, deeper as my body adjusted to years of sucking men off. It felt like no surprise as a dusting of hair covered my pecs, then pushed down my stomach before my shaved down bush exploded. My pits filled in to better capture my own smell, and keep me just a little high on my own supply.

“Fuck yeah little bro, you’re gonna be so good out there.”

He slipped a hat over my head, and my mind filled with a new purpose. To kick back at this resort and fucking party. To feel pride in who I was and become one of the community. But, most importantly, to grow the tribe and bring more guys into the fold. I felt his cock tense in my mouth as my mind slowed down to accept my place as a gay god, to worship my bros and be worshiped. As thick ropes shot down my throat, I felt strong. I smelt rank. And I was fucking home.

The next day, a new guy showed up to the resort. Skinny, shy, out of place. I came over to talk with him.

“First time here, bro?”

“Yeah, not quite sure I belong.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. Throwing my arm behind my head. My musk caught his attention as his eyes began glazing over, “Why don’t I show you around?”

“Ye…yeah…yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” his face was soon resting in my pit, and I saw his muscles twitch with anticipation, “you’re gonna fit right in bro.”

#hypnosis #bro #male transformation #straight to gay #musk #fml

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FWB!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: Nothing good ever comes from a text after dark... or does it? Guess it depends on who it is and what they need. If it's a certain Lieutenant, then it's bound to be something worth your while.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

You up?

Need you. Now.

Can’t wait.

The repetitious vibrations from your phone pull your attention away from the open book resting against your thighs and over to where it lay on your mattress next to you. Grabbing it, you press the button on the side that turns on the screen and check the clock in the upper right hand corner. It’s later than you thought, but being the night owl you are meant that you were still up messing about even if you shouldn’t be.

He knew it.

Rolling over to your side as you read and reread the short messages, discarding your book to the other side of the bed, the sudden racing pulse through your veins makes your stomach cartwheel. It didn’t take much these days to get your body aching for a certain Lieutenant, not when he’s texting you shit like that at this hour.

As quickly as your fingers can type you text Ghost back, an instantaneous need swelling inside at the thought of being with him again.

And what if I am?

You need something?

Not even a minute passes before your phone buzzes to life again and quickly you read the bubble that pops up on screen.

Are you going to get that sweet arse over here or not, luv?

A flutter in your chest makes your breath hitch as you jump up from your bed and throw on whatever articles of clothing that are within reach; time is of the essence. Doesn’t matter what the hell it is when you know Ghost will be tearing them off you the moment you get to him anyway. Things usually get hot and heavy pretty fast when you two are together, so the only real rule that you stood by was less is best as that meant you could get to the deed that much quicker.

Both of you knew why you’d be there, no sense in beating around the bush when he could immediately be diving into one.

With slow, careful movements and silent steps, you leave your quarters and set out across the base towards your superiors room. Once you’re outside you keep to the shadows, trying to minimize any unwanted attention to the fact you are out far too late and that your destination just happens to be where the officers are housed; getting stopped now will not be ideal. The closer you get the more warm your cheeks become as sensitive nerve endings spark to life across your limbs and a familiar heat gathers between your thighs.

He’s already waiting for you when you arrive. Your knuckles barely touch the surface of the door before you hear the lock click and the door swings open to reveal a shirtless, brown-eyed Adonis staring straight back at you. It’s clear from his ruffled, unkempt locks and wrinkled sweatpants that he had not been successful in trying to get to sleep before his desire grew into a beast too difficult to handle alone.

"Fancy meeting you here," you pick at him as he reaches for your arm and pulls you into the confines of his dimly lit room, the door quickly closing behind you both with a quiet latch. “What’s that, like the third time this week alone?”

As he turns back to you Ghost’s sight locks to your body, slowly taking you all in as he eyes you up and down, hunger glistening through his gaze. "Is that complaining I hear?" he smirks. "I’m not apologizin’, luv. Do you know what you fucking do to me?"

"I have an idea," you breathe as that imposing figure of prime masculinity moves in closer, "but you know I’ve always been a bit of a visual learner, so why don't you show me again?"

A smile that could make Satan blush flashes across his lips and with a growl that sets you shivering with anticipation, Ghost closes the short distance between you and leans in, pulling you against his warm, tight chest as he meets your mouth greedily with his.

“mmm … mmh… !” he groans into you.

A series of frantic, heated kisses overwhelm your lips as if he is trying to devour every bit of that soft, full pout as he can; how can someone’s kiss feel like heaven? Your rapidly palpating heart makes your head buzz as he pours his desire into you and you respond in kind by meeting his intensity with your own.

Breaking away for only a moment, his hands now grasping at your shirt take hold and pull the scant article up over your head and off to remove any barrier between the both of you. He tosses it out of the way and moves back against you, nearly crushing you in between him and the door as he can’t stand being separated.

Warm breath is at the side of your head. "Need to feel you," he groans near your ear before taking the lobe in his teeth and giving it a bite. Your ears pick up the sound of his breath hitching as he comes apart at the sensation of your breasts plastered to his chest, hands surveying the rest of the skin available to him.

“Goddamn, I feel like I’m on fuckin’ fire. Don’t know what spell you fucking have me under sweetheart, but it’s becomin’ a problem.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you say against his swollen lips, “to become your problem.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans before his mouth latches back on to your own.

You already are.

Fiery kisses assault your mouth in desperate fashion as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. That insatiable appetite is something of a marvel as you both had been messing around for a couple of months and yet his texts seem to come at a more frequent rate now than when you started. Nothing is more euphoric than to be desired to the point of obsession, especially when it came to someone like the Lieutenant; there’s something primal in the way a big man possesses you.

Without warning his hands clasp securely around your waist as he picks you up so that you can wrap your thighs around his hips, your back slamming harshly against the door for leverage. The sound of your body bouncing off the surface echoes through the quiet room as that sculpted body of his presses firmly into you so the prominence of his arousal can be felt as he grinds it up into the crotch of your pants.

His face is still joined to yours and the sensation of his tongue pressing against your mouth brings you back to reality, impatiently knocking for entry, and you part your lips so that he can slip the thick muscle inside. He shoves it within the confines of that wet cavern so that it can do its exploring while it dances alongside your own tongue; he sure does enjoy keeping all your holes nice and stuffed full.

It’s not enough, though; he needs more.

You both are on the move now and you have to lock your arms around his shoulders to hang on as he makes the short distance to the bed not a few feet from where you are and sets you down. He kneels before you on the floor, pulls you to the edge, and in one swift motion his hands are on your pants before they are suddenly off you and next to him.

Even in the dim light of the small room, you can see how his eyes shimmer with lust and want, a predators gaze just before they go in for the kill. This man would be the death of you, but what a glorious death it would be.

“Lay back for me,” he demands and you follow.

A powerful grip is placed on each one of your inner thighs to spread them wide as Ghost moves them to sit on his shoulders where they will rest as he works. Leaning in towards your cunt he goes in face first with no hesitation like a starved man read to eat his first meal in days.

With shaky hands you cling to the sheets for dear life as the he nestles the tip of his tongue between your petals, gathering your sweet juices along his taste buds as he drags it across the length, teasing circles around your aching clit before thrusting up against it. There he begins to stroke with languid movements along that organ of pleasure, go in with all he has amidst the sound of your mewls at the pleasurable sensation.

Goddamn you taste good.

That face with its beautifully chiseled features is buried so deep in you Ghost can hardly breathe, but he has never felt more alive. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his movements all work together to fuel the passion for your cunt. On his knees between your legs is his favorite place to be, listening to the symphony you make, even with the threat that you’d lock your legs around his head; god, he hoped you would.

Your eyes clamp themselves shut as your head falls back while another back-arching vibration of pleasure hits your clit and you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to remember how to breathe when your brain had lost all its functions. Ghost’s intense pace never slows even as you writhe violently across his face, your sweet nectar coating itself across his cheeks. Oh no, it only fuels him more; he’d drown against you and still say thank you.

Ghost’s hands move up further on your hips suddenly, pulling you against his face until he is latched so securely that you can not buck him off. There is not anywhere for you to go at this point and the only thing you can do is ready yourself as that warmth in your stomach grows stronger and stronger, your toes curling with each thrust of his tongue.

Releasing your grip on the sheets, you bring your hand down and ruffle your fingers through his hair and he moans into you. “Sh-shit,” you stutter breathless. The pace is steady, sucking and stroking, but it’s intense as the minutes pass without any sign of him letting up. You know there will be no mercy found for you here; Ghost will stop when his job is done and not a second before.

Tiny beads of sweat speckle your body as you burn under his touch and he smirks against you, feeling how hard he is working you as the perspiration hits his fingertips. The pressure was overwhelming and your hips rock with him trying to get you there.

There is nothing more beautiful than the mess he is always making out of you lately and if he has his way he will keep you on your back almost constantly.

Pressure building, warmth gathering, the precipice within reach with each stroke. Relentless he feasts with fervor until your eyelids flutter shut.

Right there. It’s right fucking there. Just a few more licks of his tongue, a few more precise hits and that is going to be all.

It’s coming, the plunge. Ghost’s fingernails are piercing the skin of your hips as a few more deliberate strokes of his tongue on your clit cause your butt to lift up of the bed as your orgasm rips through you.

Your thighs clamp around his ears, blocking him in against you and yet he doesn’t stop. The entirety of your ecstasy you ride out with him licking and sucking until you sink into the mattress, breathing through the pleasure. After a moment you look down to see the demon emerge from you with a smirk strung across his mouth that sparkles with your slick.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he sighs and stands to his feet, fingers capturing the drawstrings to his pants and with a pull the tie untangles itself so that the slack fabric can hang low on his hips.

“What?” you play, knowing what he wants and even though you are still catching your breath, you are more than ready to give in to him.

“You know damn well what. Night’s still young, luv,” he says as he slips the waistband down even lower, “and now it’s my turn.”

He isn't finished with you yet, not even close.

His desire is beyond reason now, even more than before, and it fills his gaze as he stares back at you. No movement yet as Simon allows that bit of tension to linger in the air before he pounces.

Fuck anymore foreplay, this can’t hold off any longer.

Those legs of yours you have kept open, inviting him back, but this time with his cock instead of his tongue. He moves back in, dropping his pants off his legs and stepping out of them. A quick order he barks to move back further onto the bed has you scooting and he is following you, crawling across the surface with the power and grace of a lion before he goes in for the kill.

“You ready for me, princess?” he growls.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyed gaze watching him as he prepares to claim you again. “Give it to me,” you say and that is all the confirmation needed.

Sliding between your thighss as he parts them as easily as a knife through warm butter, he pushes one back where your knee is near your chest while the other is straight beneath him; he wants to get as deep as he fucking can. There is no hesitation as with a strong thrust he is fully inside of you down to the very base of his cock, his balls bouncing off your ass.

“Ahh…” you cry out as you stretch to capacity to accommodate all of him, your fingernails dig into the muscles along his shoulders as your body adjusts to his mighty girth.

Ghost bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; he’s had you countless times at this point, but every single time the sensation your body gives him is enough to make the man see God.

“Goddamn sweetheart, the way you feel around my fucking cock,” he groans, “just want to keep it in you at all times. If I had my way, you’d stay on your back all day every day.”

Obsession is not quite the word, but you already have the man wrapped around your little finger. The things he'd do to have you at this point border on the diabolical.

There is no holding back once he starts thrusting in and out, desperate to find his rhythm, not with how wet and tight you are; it is paradise. Soon enough that pace is set and you are joining him in grinding your hips against his pelvis. Ghost rests his forehead against yours, rough, strong fingers finding your hands so that they can lace themselves in between the paces of your own as he holds them above your head. The building pressure causes him to start panting.

“O-OHH, FUCK…!!” he exclaims as you tighten yourself on his cock, putting those kegel practices to good use just to see him falter.

It is not expected and throws him off a moment; he’s the one that is suppose to be showing that pussy who’s boss, but you’ve taken the reins with that one move. Someone is bound to hear him and yet he can’t be bothered to quiet himself. If you want to make sure this stays a secret, you shouldn’t pull moves that can bring him to his proverbial knees.

Time after time he feels the need to remind you in breathless moans how you are his, but if Ghost is honest you have him fucking whipped; not that he is going to let you know that. Still, if you pay close enough attention you will be able to tell the signs, like the way he is utterly falling apart now. Fuck, he needs to come so bad now he can taste it.

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. He needs to take over your entire being, possess every single last centimeter of you, steal away all your sanity until there is nothing left of you but him.

Releasing your hands, he moves back to sit taller on his knees so that he can put the most leverage behind his thrusts. He helps you to reposition so that both of your thighs are now secure high on his hips; you are going to need to hang on for this. Abdominals are straining along his torso, contracting down with each movement until they are coated in a thin, glistening layer of perspiration.

“Com’ on, pretty girl, you goin’ to give me another?” he grunts. The knot in your brows and the way your mouth hangs slack must say it all. He’s going to make you come again.

You nod furiously, focusing on that warm gathering in the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, sweetheart, com’ on. I deserve to feel you this time. Com' on my cock, slather it nice and proper.”

Hips rolling as if his life depends on it, he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. It’s working, your back is arching, and release is gaining on you. “Yes, y-yes,” you choke out.

The pressure is overwhelming and your hips buck, the pain of over-stimulation turning to pleasure as your body readies itself to shoot that hot electricity through your limbs. Ghost presses the pad of his finger harshly up against your clit and with his thrusts working inside you, that is finally enough to make you spill.

Your second orgasm rockets through you, causing you to clamp down on him with fluttering walls. The sensation is enough to cause that deep ache to finally find its remedy and his pulls out of you quickso that he can coat your torso with his cum. You quickly reach down and grab his cock, stroking out all his has to give until he is shuddering and please with you to stop.

He has to sit back on his heels and just breathe a moment before he can move to grab something to clean you off, but soon he’s able to go off and grab you a towel, handing it to you as he falls on the bed beside you while you finish wiping off the last of his cream.

“So, I guess that means we’re done here right?” you playfully tease him as you throw the towel aside and lay back down.

Strong arms enfold you and pull him to his chest as he smirks, the euphoria of his orgasm still coursing through his veins.

He catches your mouth with his to shut you up. “You should know fucking better than that, luv,” he says, nipping at your lips. “Price may own you when the sun is up, but that still a ways off. You and that sweet cunt of yours are mine until then.”

Hell, he cannot seem to ever get enough of you no matter how many times you frequent his bed. Those strong fingers draw lazy circles across your back, making you tingle as you come back down from your high

You chuckle sleepily, the consequences of you staying up so late mixing with the act you just performed. “I’ll be so tired, not gonna be able to run drills properly.”

“More complainin’?” he retorts. “I must not have finished the fucking job yet. You’ve been doin’ just fine with keeping up with your duties so far. Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll make sure your proper exhausted just as I always do.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley smut #ghost cod smut #simon ghost riley smut #dom!simon riley #simin ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #cod smut #smut #simon ghost riley x you

[heich0e]

“Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Your head pops up as the unexpected voice makes itself known, twisting your face towards the sound only to see a figure standing at the end of the alley. He’s silhouetted where he stands—a shape more than a person. You can tell he’s tall, broad, and has a knot of hair tied up loosely at his crown. 

Geto Suguru steps into the light where you can see him better, though it makes his sudden appearance no less surprising. 

“Did you drink too much?” he asks, treading a few steps closer as he eyes you worriedly. You pull yourself up from where you’d been crouching on the ground.

“No, no. Just getting some air,” you reply with a stiff smile, dipping in a bow and quickly adjusting your pencil skirt once you’re back upright.

He has his tie loosened over his shirt with the top button undone, and his suit jacket is nowhere to be seen. He considers you for a moment, and his attention makes you want to fidget but you fight the urge.

You watch as he pulls packet of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt and offers it out to you. “Do you smoke?”

“No, thank you,” you say with a quick shake of your head, smoothing your hands along the front of your skirt and then moving to step past him back towards the entrance of the restaurant. “I should go.”

He angles his body in your way before you can.

“No need to leave on my account,” he says, peering down at you. His face is partially in shadow because of how he’s standing, angled between you and the mouth of the alleyway that leads back to the busy street, caught in a small dark patch between the streetlights and the light affixed to the grungy brick wall. He tips his face up and the light touches his features once more, catching in his brown eyes as he waits in anticipation of your response.

“I should get back inside.” It’s strangely difficult to meet his gaze, so instead you look past him towards the street as an unwelcome heat surges up your throat to flood your face. A car passes quickly by the alley, and you watch as the headlights come and go in a flash.

“Why?” the man before you asks, placing the cigarette he’d fished out of the pack to his lips. He uses his teeth to keep it there while he fumbles through his pockets for a lighter. “You’re clearly having a terrible time in there.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his in shock.

“No I’m not,” your reply is notably indignant, even though his accusation is valid.

How would he know anyway?

“The smiley, nice-girl bit’s gotta be getting old, isn’t it? Pouring everyones drinks. Cleaning up everyones messes.” He laughs, though it’s only to himself, before clicking his lighter to life and holding it to the tip of his cigarette until it catches. The cherry burns red and bright on an inhale, and smoke slips from his lips as he adds, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not your boss.”

“I’m not lying,” you insist, but your performance isn’t particularly convincing. 

Truthfully, the very last thing you wanted to do after a ten-hour work day—capping off a fifty-hour work week—was come out drinking with your colleagues. You’ve never really liked these kinds of gatherings, even if the company is the one footing the bill. They always get a bit too rowdy for your liking. Always drag on a bit too long. And you know that you’ll inevitably be the one stuck forcing your plastered boss into a taxi in the wee hours of the morning, while the rest of your equally-sloshed coworkers find their own ways home.

But the department chair, the very same one you’re sure will be singing karaoke with his tie around his forehead in only a few short hours, had been adamant that everyone in marketing attend the gathering since the sales section was joining in too. 

Hence the sales employee standing toe-to-toe with you, blocking your path.

You know Geto Suguru, but only indirectly. The sales and marketing departments are separated by a single floor in your company’s office building, and often work on projects together. Geto is a section lead in sales, with a long, illustrious history behind him before he worked his way up to that role. He’s made a lot of money for the company, and a lot of friends along the way—what with his easy charm, silver tongue, and undeniable good looks. His reputation precedes him—in both good ways and bad.

The fact that he’s here talking to you—a fresh-faced, relatively new-to-role nobody in comparison to his lengthy history with the business—is what you have a hard time wrapping your head around.

“Sure, sure.” Geto waves his hand dismissively, ash fluttering off in tiny specks from the end of his lit cigarette. “I’m sure you just love making all those copies, remembering coffee orders, and running that section lead of yours’s errands too. Oh, and don’t forget when he takes credit for your ideas.”

Your stomach drops. 

He keeps going.

“This upcoming brand collaboration is exciting,”—he takes a puff of his cigarette, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you—“too bad no one knows it was you who came up with it, huh?” 

Your fists clench tightly at your sides, your lips pressing together in a thin line.

Geto blows the last of the smoke in his lungs from the corner of his pursed lips, away from you.

“That’s the first honest expression I’ve seen on your face all night,” he says with a sly smile tugging at his lips.

Your hands are shaking.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask him weakly.

He tilts his head to the side, like your question confounds him.

“I’m not doing anything,” he says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it. “Have I said anything that isn’t true?”

You bite your lip, staring down at your pretty, professional pumps as you stand on the craggy pavement of the alley.

“You’re allowed to be angry, but don’t direct it at me for pointing out the people who keep screwing you over,” Geto says, and the way his voice sounds a bit nearer and the smell of his cigarette gets stronger tells you that he’s dipped down closer to you even though you don’t watch him do it. “No one’s gonna hand anything to you if you don’t fight for it.”

You glance up at him, your expression and your tone equally flat. “And what if I’m not a fighter?”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” he says, chuckling a bit as he backs away from you.

You watch him as he watches you—contemplates you, like he’s sizing you up. He drops cigarette suddenly to the ground, still only half-burned, and crushes it with the toe of his shoe. You hold your breath as he takes another step towards you.

He leans forward.

“Hit me.”

“Pardon me?” The bewildered question rushes out of you all in one gasping breath, and you take a loping step back in shock.

“Come on, just one,” the man goads you further, rapping against his jaw with the knuckle of his index finger as a smile twists his lips up at the corners.

“You’re drunk,” you spit out incredulously, shaking your head and quickly moving to step past him.

“I’m not.” He sidles smoothly into your path once more before you get the chance to flee, like he’s half-a-step ahead of you at all times. 

It’s infuriating.

“Alright, then you’re just insane,” you offer instead.

You knew the sales department had a reputation for being a bit wild, but this is beyond all your expectations. This is nothing like the charming, easy going Geto that you’ve heard all your female colleague gossiping about in the break room.

His smile falls, and he crosses his arms over his chest. You try not to pay too much attention to the way his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m still your senior, y’know,” he says, and his voice is a little bit colder now. More admonishing.

You’re very acutely aware of that fact without him saying it.

You huff out a frustrated little breath through your nose, crossing your own arms over your chest in a mirror of his stance.

“I’m not hitting you.”

Geto’s brow quirks curiously.

“Why not?”

You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.

“Because that’s assault,” you counter his question shortly.

“It’s only assault if I press charges—which I won’t.” You know he’s telling the truth but it doesn’t make it any more convincing. He tilts his head to the side again, and a silky strand of his dark hair slips into his eyes. “Haven’t you ever hit anyone before? It’s cathartic.”

Your lips part in an expression of astonishment. “Of course I haven’t.”

The man in front of you looks mildly surprised at your answer.

“Do I look like someone who goes around fighting people?” you ask him incredulously.

“You look like you’ve got some repressed rage in you,” he says with a smirk, and the expression only worsens when he sees the way you react to it.

He taps his cheek again before tucking both his hands behind his back and leaning in close to you, like a man offering himself up to the executioner’s block. He shuts his eyes.

“C’mon, just a little one.”

“I won’t.”

“You should.”

“I won’t.”

“How come?”

You take his face in your hands suddenly, tilting it up to meet your gaze.

“Geto-san,” you say quietly, your tone bordering on desperate. “I’m not going to hit you, so please stop asking.”

He opens his eyes slowly, his dark lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you. After a moment he smiles, and his eyes curve into narrow crescents as he leans subtly into your touch.

It’s quiet in the alley, but your heartbeat is quick underneath your skin.

“Can you blame a guy for trying?” he asks you coyly.

You’re still cupping his cheeks in your hands. 

They’re warm.

“You really are crazy,” you reply softly to his question, though it’s not much of a reply at all.

He hums, turning his face so his nose drags across your wrist. His lips brush against your palm as he speaks once more. “I’ve been called worse.”

You don’t doubt he’s telling the truth.

Slowly, the dark haired man picks himself up to his usual height. He’s closer to you now than he’s ever been—and thanks to the little cat and mouse game that the two of you have been playing, you’re very nearly pressed against the alley wall. You can’t even see the street anymore beyond the expanse of his wide shoulders.

Everywhere you look, you only see him.

The realization sits hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach.

“I know you’re a good girl, but what are we gonna do about all that stuff you’ve got pent up in there?” Geto lifts his hand and presses a featherlight touch to your sternum over your diaphragm, his fingertips trailing delicately against the smooth plane where the arch of your ribs ends. Your breath hitches painfully as you stare up at him, a sticky knot at the back of your throat preventing you from forming any response—not that you can think of anything to say. 

Geto smiles down at you, his expression soft.

You see the faintest flash of sharp teeth behind his pink lips.

“Don’t you want me to help you let it out?”

#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #f!reader

[kimberly-spirits13]

Jason Todd During Your Period

Sweetest thing

Feels so bad that you feel bad and does anything humanly possible to alleviate the pain

He knows how to handle periods since he has all the batgirls and he had to take care of his mom when he was younger

He’s the kind of boyfriend where you can just be like “hey when is my next period?” And he’d know off the top of his head

Won’t blame you for any outbursts or anything and he tries his best to not annoy you

If you get nightmares or really funky dreams on your period that wake you up, he always wakes up to make sure you’re okay

Becomes a light sleeper during your period in anticipation that you wake up and need something or are basically dying

Specifically ordered you two of those massive heating pads and let’s you lay on top of him with them

One heating pad for the back and one stomach

It’s a miracle tool yall

It’s the kind of thing where you finally get settled and you cry because it’s so amazing

NOT BEING IN PAIN AND BEING ABLE TO SLEEP IS WONDERFUL

He’d feel so bad if that happened though because he’d realize how bad you really felt in the moment

He knew you were struggling but it always hurts him to see you in pain

Stocks up on pain killers

Makes you your favorite food and brings your favorite food home from patrol because let’s be honest

No girl is sleeping on her period without her comfort 🤚

He’ll take as many naps with you as you want and do a spa day

*face mask on and hair mask in* “no Dick I’m not on patrol tonight, I’m busy.” “

Knows exactly what to get at the store if you ask him since he had to get stuff for his mom

Will bring back chocolate or whatever your favorite snack is

Let’s be honest, chocolate gets boring after about a day

Holds you while you’re in pain

Makes sure to call you often when he’s on patrol go check in, especially if you’re benched from patrol for the week because of it

Is mostly calling for himself to make sure you’re not dying or anything

Gets medical advice from Alfred

Is genuinely afraid you’ll become anemic or something if he thinks you’re losing too much blood

You two are experts at getting blood out of things so don’t even worry about it

Let’s you wear all of his clothes and takes up doing the chores since you’re probably bloated and swelling

Kisses your cheek and forehead a lot if you’re not feeling well

Does anything you need to feel better

His guilty pleasure is when you’re on your period and are craving carbs because he really really loves carb loading but can’t do it often

Bagels, pasta, pizza, crackers, cinnamon rolls, anything carb

If you start running a fever he freaks out a bit but has enough experience to know you’re not dying

Puts an ice pack on your forehead and gets advil for you

Stocks up on ice cream if that’s your thing

Excuses himself and you from any galas and makes sure the paparazzi isn’t around

Probably threatens them or something who knows

Has one of his sisters come over to give you company if you need some girl time

If you want to you’ll 100% be welcomed to just sit in the bat cave during patrol and help monitor

The entire week or two is just Jason doting on you more than usual

He’d wrap you in a blanket burrito and carry you everywhere

Is very touchy when you don’t feel well so he latches himself onto you

Movie marathons

I watch Law and Order and lots of crime documentaries when I’m on my period for some reason and he’d 100% binge those

Has fuzzy socks for you

They’re probably funky colorful ones that he thought were funny and got them for you one day to cheer you up

Won’t let you talk bad about yourself

If you call yourself yuck or gross or fat or anything he’d smother you with his entire body

Not today Satan

Praises from him are the best let’s just keep it at that

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader fluff #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fluff #red hood x y/n #red hood imagine #jason todd imagine

[ma1dita]

kiss his face with an uppercut

smutty part 2 here-> heavy hitter

words: 4k

summary: james potter is so attractive you could beat him to death with a bludger. james potter x fem!beater!reader not from gryffindor (for the plot!!)

warnings: none! james gets physically hurt multiple times by reader, multiple innuendos, enemies to lovers kinda, less serious lovey dove more sexual tension!!! probably not accurate quidditch gameplay

a/n: sorry for the hold up guys this took almost a month of on and off editing lmfao— this whole oneshot makes me think of the filipino word ‘gigil’– simply translating to cuteness aggression; i barely know jack shit about sports much less quidditch but this concept had me looking up quidditch rules to be able to provide– eat up kids

Y/S- sibling name

Y/H- house

(posted & edited 10/10/23)

—

Oh BROTHER, this guy STINKS! I mean, how has he not gotten walloped at least once during this godforsaken game? You suck your teeth at the sight of James flying around the pitch blowing kisses to his fan club and Lily Evans, who turns her nose up at the sight of him.

Merlin, when will this game end?

The Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Finals of 1977 was a game to watch… until both teams stopped scoring what seemed like hours ago. Both Gryffindor & (Y/H) were at a stalemate, down some players due to injury and now, even lower team morale. Gryffindor team captain and chaser James Potter, notorious Marauder, and resident flirt, is not someone who likes to lose. He’s spent all season drilling his teammates, memorizing plays, and thinking of every outcome possible to ensure another Gryffindor victory. James’ affinity to be right takes precedence over anything, after all. But after beating down almost all of (Y/H)’s reserves, James was almost vibrating with confidence. He really doesn’t lose, not if he can help it.

“AND ANOTHER (Y/H) IS DOWN WITH AN INJURY— Team captain Whithall calls for a timeout as they reconvene on what to do next! Hope you’re still comfy in the stands, folks….” the student announcer grumbles.

There’s absolute chaos on the field, and like birds scuffling over a piece of bread, (Y/S), the team’s last good beater is floating on a gurney, ready to be transported to the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” Sirius murmurs, smacking James on the back to grab his attention.

You jump down from the stands to check on (Y/S), and James is too busy reveling in the idea of winning the goddamn semi-finals that he doesn’t notice you putting Quidditch gear on.

“Easy win from here on out, Pads! The little lady’s just checking the damage. Not important,” he chortles before Sirius physically grabs his head to face the girl walking towards him, currently storming across the turf to meet him and his team.

“I’m subbing in,” you say, angry at how dirty Gryffindor’s been playing, and angry that you even have to play in (Y/S)’s stead.

“Sweetheart, this game is for serious, you know that right?” James says a bit dumbly with a furrowed brow. Both of you are head to head, and James sees the twitch in your eye as you cross your arms. Hot air is seeping out of your pores but James’s lip simply quirks up in intrigue. You’re someone he hasn’t noticed before, and the only thing running through his mind besides winning the game is that you’re really pretty. But then again, he’s always found angry women to be attractive, in retrospect.

“Yeah, for the actual cup, not…for Sirius… It’s the wrong time to joke, innit?” Sirius says to break the ice, noticing the palpable tension between your glares. Your faces are inches away from each other and he’s not sure if you two are going to fight or kiss, but it makes him grimace all the same.

“Who do you think (Y/S) practices with? Unlike you and your friends, I know when to take things seriously,” You say through gritted teeth.

“She’s legit, Potter. Got added to our reserves last week.” Whithall pipes up, ready to get back to the game. The crowd has been weathered down after hours of anticipation, and they want to see the end of it, no matter the outcome.

“Much to my surprise,” you grumble, elbowing the authority in the form of a teenage boy not much older than yourself. You should’ve known your sibling was looking a little too happy as they got floated off the pitch on a gurney.

“Then let’s play. Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” James says condescendingly, floating away on his broomstick like it’s a walk in the park, but the way you’re slapping the bat against your palm is getting Sirius a tiny bit nervous for his precious countenance. The whistle blows and the game resumes.

“A SURPRISE ADDITION (Y/N) JOINS HER HOUSE AS BEATER! Gryffindor better watch out for her swi—” You slam the bludger in James’s direction and it hurtles toward him so fast that he almost folds in half, barrel-rolling on his broom to dodge it. The move makes Sirius and a few of their other teammates gasp to see James scrambling back onto his broom.

“Oops! Looks like I missed.” you deadpan, balancing midair as you whack another one where it rebounds off the Gryffindor seeker and back towards James, hitting both of them in the gut.

“THIS GIRL’S GOT AN ARM ON HER! Though might I say her hits look a bit targeted…” The commentator says worriedly, and everyone in the crowd is leaning in their seats trying to get a better view.

“Merlin, are you trying to kill me woman?” he yells in outrage.

“I’m trying to finish the game. Your big head is in the way,” you say with a straight face as Sirius bats towards you, and you spin on your broomstick without shifting your posture. The smile on your face as you taunt him should be considered criminal, but he’s looking at you in a new light.

Yeah, now he’s paying attention. The other Gryffindor players can’t seem to figure out your next move and you bat another bludger towards Potter’s extremely large target of a head, and all of a sudden he’s freefalling through the air as his teammates fly to catch him, one by one. His nose still makes impact with the ground before Sirius catches by the ankle like Achilles taking a dip in the River Styx.

“AND (Y/H) HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH! Good job to their Seeker, Appleby! Congratulations on a job well done, so that we can all finally go home.” The commentator cringes as McGonagall swats at him to leave the podium.

Who even is she, taking over the game and stealing his win like that?

He’s walking up from the sidelines with a bloody nose, going to shake Whithall’s hand and you’re standing behind him, a malicious grin plastered between your rosy cheeks, windswept and almost ethereal while he looks like he got flattened by a hippogriff. Fuck, she’s pretty. You look like you floated down from the heavens, and by the looks his team gives him, he may have just crawled out of the earth.

“Congrats,” he grumbles, turning to you. Really pretty. It’s even worse that you’re devastatingly stunning up close— with sweat glistening on your brow and a pearly white smile, he takes a good moment to really look at you and memorize the flutter of your eyelashes. He’s unsure if he’s concussed or maybe it’s his astigmatism, but there are actual stars in his vision as he peers down at you. Your confidence is actually kind of sexy.

“You look…um…you ride well.” He stutters, shaking his head from his personal reverie.

“Excuse me?” you say, your little mouth agape in what he hopes is not disgust. He looks pathetic, blood sopping down to his jersey as he looks at you like he’s only seeing you for the first time, acknowledging you closely. Something about seeing him flail makes you crinkle your nose as you stifle a grin.

“I mean…Um…” Damn.

Sirius pulls his best friend away before you can bite back your laughter, all of your teammates leading you away to celebrate.

“Mate, what the shit was that? Are you alright in the head?” Sirius says, and if James’ nose wasn’t already bleeding he was going to slap him silly.

“Just…Didn’t see that coming…” he mumbles, and his mind, along with all of Gryffindor is in disarray as they walk back to their tower. He’s got a lot of thinking to do on what his next move will be.

—

James Potter goes through life in three methodical ways: 1.) creating a strategy, 2.) making a scene, 3.) and dragging his friends into it— in that particular order, every single time.

Now notice how considering consequences is not part of said process.

His ego wouldn’t let him rest after a girl, much less a very pretty one that he’d never noticed before—beat him at what he does best; quidditch! In fact, the next few nights were void of sleep and filled with thoughts of you. The way your hair looked so soft in the sunlight, how your lip turns almost Gryffindor red when you bite it in concentration, and maybe how your delicate hands would look as they tightly grasp onto his bat...ahem…your quidditch bat. Some dirty delusions aside, if looks could kill, he’d be dead seven times over, but honestly? He’d probably thank you for it.

James’ new mission was to figure you out, and if that was his mission, it meant it was the rest of the Marauders’ too. For the sake of winning the Cup, of course. That’s what he tries to tell himself until his mates catch him ogling you again at breakfast.

“So what is it with you and girls that inflict you nothing but pain and humiliation?” Remus muses, as the Marauders watch James laugh at a joke you told your friends at the (Y/H) table across the Great Hall. He looks at you like someone who stares at the sun, squinting and burning himself as he ponders on why he’s unable to look away.

James fumbles a response, shoving Remus as they all laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak, Moony. Just…There’s something about her…”

Your friends are pointing at him now, and as you turn to meet his eyes, you lift a brow inquisitively and flip him off. Sirius’s face pulls up in shock at James’s growing smile at the interaction as he mumbles, “Maybe you’ve met your match, Prongs…”

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, anything to try to see you clearer as he leans over to put his head in his hands, sighing dreamily. His friends are not as easily amused.

“A match made in heaven, you reckon?”

—

“Match made in hell, more like!” You spit, almost choking on your scrambled eggs at your friends’ insinuations. Your back is as stiff as a board, shoulders tight at the notion of you ever liking James Potter triggering your fight or flight response. When it comes to someone as pompous as him, only the word fight comes to mind.

“Oh come on, love… He’s popular, funny, and quite handsome…It’s James freaking Potter we’re talking about!” your roommate gushes, but you're not the least bit impressed.

“Is that supposed to do anything for me? I can think of a few F words that middle initial can stand for…” Eyes rolling, you peek back at the Gryffindor table to see said boy wiggling his fingers at you teasingly until he accidentally smacks Peter in the face with his toast. Idiot.

“Only hot people get away with stupid shit. I mean look at the four of them!” you continue, gulping down the rest of your coffee. “Potter’s the worst out of all of them though. Big ass head must compensate for a lot of things." You say, shaking your head at your friends.

"And yet, here you are, talking about him for the fourth time this morning," your roommate replies, smirking. " You’ve been Potter crazy since you helped us beat Gryffindor in the semi-finals! Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?"

"No!" you say too quickly, too loudly, that the shrill noise of your voice makes your ears hurt and the shit-eating grins on your friends’ faces reflect how desperate that came off. You slump onto the table, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna kiss him, don’t you?” they tease, and you push away their puckering faces as you scoff, “With an uppercut, maybe!” Almost makes you want to stomp over there and wipe the stupid look off his face…and maybe sit on his lap. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. All this aggression really needs to go somewhere, but unfortunately, James Potter’s lap is the only destination you have in mind.

“He’s just really punchable. I get so annoyed by the sight of him I just want to… ugh!” you groan, your hands shaking as you try to convince them (or yourself). Your friends cackle at the sight of you pretending to squeeze his curly-topped, mothball-filled head, but your brain changes course and you imagine what it’s like to hold his hand. Your fingers flex cautiously at the idea, wondering what his touch would feel like. Grabbing a glass of water to cool your thoughts, your peripherals reveal he’s still staring at you like you make night turn into day. His gaze is searing, and as you put your lips around your straw, he licks his lips slowly. Shit.

—

Availability bias is one hell of a mindfuck. If only they taught psychology at this magic school, maybe the wizarding world would have way fewer problems and more people would be straightforward and not.. Dead. James decides he can categorize his life now as before you, and after you.

Before you, well… he honestly wasn’t even sure if you were a student at Hogwarts until he saw you marching down the pitch, but now… You’re everywhere. He can spot your voice in a crowded hallway, and who was going to tell him you’ve had three classes with him this whole term? Even down to when he shuts his eyes, he’s convinced his eyelids are branded with the imprint of your silhouette. Every conversation he strikes with you ends with you laughing at him, and he’s unsure if that’s a step up or down from the many boisterous rejections from Lily Evans over the years. He sort of wishes you’d laugh with him, and do a number of other things, (heck he’s got a list of ideas he’s wanked off to), and well… His soul is tightly wound with thoughts of you and Godric, listen to this guy…. maybe the boys were right…. Maybe he really does need to get laid.

It’s funny how fate works, two people who’ve barely interacted in the past six years at Hogwarts are now paired together for a History of Magic essay worth 20% of the term grade. You’re trying to get this done as fast as possible, he notices, mapping out ideas and trying to discuss how to piece it all together, yet James does everything but that to get you to pay attention to him. He fills your head with mundane little questions, asking you what your favorite fruit is to the childhood bedtime story your parents told you as a kid.

“What’s your middle name, Potter?” You muse, finally entertaining him after endless chatter. His eyes trail to the exposed skin of your collarbones as you stretch in your seat, and well… you don’t look as menacing as you always do but did it seriously have to be this question? He scratches the back of his head, silent for the first time in the two hours you’ve been trying to craft this essay for the sake of both your grades.

“What? I can’t just go around calling you James Fucking Potter. Spit it out, you know too much about me already.”

He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… that’s an intimate question, love… I…”

Your laughter at his response makes his senses shut down. “Oh, so it’s bad. What is it, Franklin? Fabio? Come on, I won’t bite.” A part of him wishes you would, your face equally flushed and so close to him right now, almost leering at him for an answer. It’d be easy to just lean over…

“Fleamont.”

Your lips quirk, until they pucker like you’ve guzzled a lemon. The blush on your cheeks intensifies, and the sound explodes out of you. You laugh so loudly Madam Pince kicks you both out of the library, James carrying both your knapsacks, a hand around your waist as you rush out of there. Your body is firm under his touch, pupils unfocused and dilated looking at him now that you know his dirty little secret. James thinks that if you keep looking at him like that, hell, you can call him anything you want.

—

Fleamont.

What a prick. A really attractive, clueless prick. The memory makes you giggle as you get ready for the Quidditch Cup and your team charges out onto the field to face Gryffindor again, as you’ve both advanced to the finals. He’s not as much of an asshole as you originally thought. It’s undeniable that something pulls you towards him, whether it be hormones, concern, or the fact that it’s actually adorable the way he writes his mother back weekly, or admirable how he moved Sirius out of Black Manor himself last year. Maybe it’s endearing the way he goes out of his way to make first-years smile or heartwarming how even Filch can’t find reasons to hate him. The golden boy. You get it now, why people get trapped in his web, and why many are unwilling to leave.

You pass him outside the locker rooms, bumping shoulders as he smiles almost bashfully. The golden boy, loudmouth, ball of energy is reduced to a nervous pile of teenage ineptness at the sight of you, every time. You could take him (not in a fight). In an actual fight, maybe you could land a few solid hits before his nice muscly arms hold you do—

“Ready to finish this, darling?”

Your eyes refocus when his hand nudges the small of your back, right above your hip. “Mhmm,” you clear your throat, “Ready to lose, Potter?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He moves closer, slowly backing you into the wall.

“Eyes on the prize Potter, I’m in this to win it.” You say, looking at the closing distance between both your chests. James nods, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment, even when the announcer calls out the imminent start of the game.

“WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP OF 1977 GRYFFINDOR VS. (Y/H)! I hope you are all excited as our last match between these teams was quite thrilling at the end of it!” The announcer says, hyping up the roaring crowd as your teams parade onto the pitch.

His eyes are still on you when he shakes Whithall’s hand and the whistle blows. It’s intense, and makes you feel like you’re burning, even if the wind is blowing like crazy today. You bat the bludgers toward anything red on the field that even dares to move toward your teammates. James won’t stop staring at you, and you both lock eyes across the pitch.

“What? Flirt with me later, Potter, I’m trying to win!” you yell.

He’s got you transfixed, and it’s crazy how his timing is always wrong. You bat the bludger away from your captain but don’t notice James flying towards you to respond as you give it your hardest swing, making the impact against his huge target of a head all the more painful.

Holy shit, did you kill him?

He keels off his broom like a shot bird and then he’s falling, and you’re the one chasing the Gryffindor chaser as he flaps his arms like the idiot you know he is as you push forward to catch him before he splits his skull open.

“I’msofuckingsorryJamesareyouokay?” You blurt out as you land, soft hands moving over his broad chest and quickly swelling face. He’s wearing that stupid grin again, and you think you may have finally broken Gryffindor’s team captain.

“You know my name?” he sighs happily, comfortable in your lap and maybe it’s the brain damage you’ve caused him or the way his glasses are bent beyond repair but you will every magical predecessor you can think of to stop you from punching him in the face right now.

“Are you fucking dense?” You scream, shaking your head, and jostling him as his arms try to reach out to swipe the hair away from your face.

“Must’ve hit him so hard you knocked his filter loose..” Sirius muses after he lands next to you two on the grass.

“POTTER’S TAKEN A HIT FROM (Y/H) and it doesn’t look good ladies and gents! Gryffindor calls a timeout to check on their captain!” The announcer calls out, and there are so many eyes on the two of you as James is simply giggling like a prepubescent schoolboy. Fuck, you’ve maimed the golden boy.

“Y’know, sweetheart. You’re…really sexy when you’re on top of me like this,” he says breathily, and you really can’t hit him, so you jab Sirius in the gut instead when he tries to laugh at his best friend’s stupidity.

—

James wakes up in the hospital wing with a blinding headache until someone gently pulls the curtains closed, stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Poppy you always take such good care of me…” he mumbles. A punch lands on his chest and his eyes rip open, not expecting to see you at his bedside.

“Idiot,” you mutter. “You’re always in my way and now look, you almost got yourself killed and it would’ve been my fault! How dare you, James…” The red is crawling up your neck like a brushfire as you berate him, and he takes it with a grin as you jabber on, putting his arms behind his head.

“Were you worried about me, love?” James smiles cheesily, catching your arm at its half-hearted attempt to slap him across the face.

“I was not. Stubborn people like you are hard to kill. I’m more annoyed that I can’t morally punch your face in since you have a concussion. Madame Pomfrey’s already healed your cheekbone.”

“That you broke,” he says matter-of-factly, taking a chance to kiss the palm of your hand. This concussion is working like a bottle of Felix Felicis. It’s endearing to see you taking care of him, whether you like it or not (even with the punches he’s sure it’ll come with).

“You’re sick in the head.”

“For you. I was trying to come tell you that I never took my eyes off the prize, but then of course you bludgeoned my face in before I could get sweet on yo—”

Your lips crash down on his, and nothing about it is delicate. It’s a month’s worth of yearning, imaginations coming to fruition as he grabs the back of your head to deepen the embrace. Your lips on his are hot and heady, and he could be easily convinced that he’s stuck there, cauterized to the shape of you.

“I know. I could feel you watching.” You breathe into his mouth, leaning up on his chest. His lips chase up again to meet yours, biting down on your bottom lip as you groan. He might like that noise better than the sound of your laughter. It’ll be fun to find out.

“Who won the Cup?”

Laughter spills out of your red, kiss-swollen lips as you pat his cheek gently, fingers grazing over his healed cheekbone.

“Not Gryffindor. But listen closely James, if you be a good boy and get past this concussion, I’ll make up for it by showing you how well I ride…”

He likes the sound of that, Quidditch Cup be damned. You see, James Potter never loses, ladies and gentlemen, not really—and well... there’s always next year.

—

“I like the way

you look at me

like you are

going to talk to me

or devour me

and I am fine with either.”

-N.R. Hart

taglist: @jsjcue

#made by ma1dita ♥︎ #marauders x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #marauders era #james potter x you

[arieslost]

certified haters | ln4

summary: you and your boyfriend hate valentine’s day.

word count: 634

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

if there was one thing you hated more than the stupid groundhog that could hardly ever predict the season changes properly, it was the so-called “holiday” that followed a couple weeks later: valentine’s day.

when you started dating lando, you made it perfectly clear that you refused to celebrate such a dumb, performative day. you’d expected more pushback considering how clingy and doting he was before the two of you even made anything official, but to your surprise he’d launched into a whole rant about how much he hated it too.

“i don’t need a specific day on the calendar to show you how much i love you,” he’d concluded, sitting back down on the couch and pulling you into his arms. “if you don’t know that every day of your life, then i’m doing something wrong.”

that was why, while other couples were being sappy and having breakfast in bed or something, you were more than happy to be freezing your ass off at silverstone as your boyfriend prepared to get behind the wheel of his 2024 car for the first time.

you honestly couldn’t imagine doing anything else— lando had seemed a bit hesitant when he asked you to come, like he thought you’d say no, and watching his eyes light up when you enthusiastically agreed was better than any valentine’s day gift.

you rubbed your hands up and down your arms to try and bring some heat back to your skin. lando, always so attentive, noticed immediately.

“are you cold?” he asked, and didn’t even wait for your response before he was putting his helmet down and shrugging out of his mclaren jacket. “put this on. c’mon.”

“no, lan, it’s fine—” your argument was pointless as he gently put your one arm, and then the other, into the sleeves of his jacket before zipping it up.

“can’t have my valentine freezing on me,” he could hardly get through his sentence without giggling, and it morphed into true laughter when you smacked him with an oversized sleeve. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

“get out of my sight, norris.” you rolled your eyes, reaching for his helmet and shoving it into his chest.

“ready?” one of the engineers asked as he handed you a headset, and lando gave a thumbs up in return, flipping his helmet over as he walked toward the car.

“oh, wait!” you called out before he could put it on. “i almost forgot.”

he already knew what you were going to do before you did it. it was tradition; you always did this before he got in the car, no matter what. he closed his eyes and puckered his lips cutely in anticipation as you ran into his arms and kissed him.

“good luck, have fun, don’t die,” you said, smiling as he mouthed the words along with you.

it was what you had said before the first race he brought you to. you’d tried to come up with something profound, but you were so nervous that those six words came out instead. now you say them every time.

“i love you,” he pressed another kiss to your lips, and then your forehead. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

he donned his helmet and climbed into the car as you put the headset on, stepping back so the engineers could do the final preparations on the car.

right before he drove out onto the track, he stuck his arm out of the car, formed a sign with his hand, and waved.

i love you! you knew he couldn’t turn around to look, but you signed it back.

you and lando hated valentine’s day, but the two of you were just as sappy with each other every other day of the year— why should today be any different?

note: this was fueled by my own hatred of this silly little day and i wrote this on mobile (thus the lowercase) in maybe two hours. the title ended up being more ironic than i thought it would be; i wish lando was my valentine and this got fluffier than i’d planned. hope u enjoyed!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @architect-2015 @maddie-bell @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @noreri @bwormie @alltoomaples @maximoffsimp @peargaslyyy @alicedebate @esserenorris

#blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #lando norris fluff #valentines day #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff

[nisuna]

I NEED HEAD CANONS ON PERVBEST FRIEND GOJO AND GETO, MAYBE WITH SOME TAG TEAMING🫣🫣🫣🫣 gojo sticking his hand in your bra(with consent) cause he’s,oh!so cold, and your just so so warm. Geto taking questionable pictures of you, your Twinkie had to much cream in it and it oozed on your face, before you even had the chance to wipe the cream off, he takes a picture, all in good “fun”, Geto and Gojo sharing a collection of photos of you. Maybe they came over to your apartment, after a bit hanging out, you go to get food for the 3 of you, one of them gets curious and starts snooping in your room only to find your vibrator or panties, and maybe just maybe they take it with them after you guys get done hanging out, sharing it with each other cause that’s what best friends do! I’m so sorry this is so horny, I was thinking with my choochie 😕😕😕😕

Okay so first of all I definitely DID NOT expect so many people to vote on my poll so thanks for that 😭✋🏻 and over ¼ of you voted for Satosugu tag team so I am here to deliver :^) I changed some things but I hope you still enjoy and I sincerely thank your coochie for coming up with this 🫶🏻 I too must admit that I was writing this with all of my pussy

Thank you for your take!!<3

<3masterlist<3

~kind of long(?) drabble~ Strictly 18+ Minors DNI

TW: pervy roommates&bff!satosugu, questionable consent at some parts but it's all good in the end, panty stealing, groping, vaginal double penetration, nipple play, marking, biting, hickeys, noncon picture taking, jerking off, it's just very messy and nasty, they start off very mean but they actually really do like you a lot<3, use of good girl, baby, angel, smut with fluff, aftercare

When your two best friends first suggested moving in together you didn't think much of it. You've known each other for a long time and they've always been very kind and helpful. You hang out together all the time anyway, so of course you said yes! And the first few weeks were fine, but then you noticed panties going missing and when you asked them if they saw them anywhere, they just shrugged blaming the washing machine/dryer. Sus, but you didn't think much of it, you trusted them.

You did notice them getting more touchy with you though. Their hands straying to your boobs and ass when they hugged you around the house. The first time Satoru put his hand in your bra you told him off but he just whined that his hands were so cold and you were so warm. Sus. They made you sit on their laps, especially when you were eating something cream filled, bouncing their leg and catching you off guard smearing the cream all over your face. As you went so wipe it off they stopped you, only to stick their fingers in your mouth and snap a quick pic.

And if you dared to speak up they shushed you and said that it's just friends having fun with each other. "Relax, it's not that serious." You thought it was quite serious, but you kept that to yourself for the sake of your friendship. They surely cared about you a lot, right?

Oh boy you had no idea just how much they cared about you. They were highkey obsessed. They obviously always liked you a lot, that's why you were friends afterall. But after moving in with you they realized that they liked you way more than they were anticipating. Of course it was them who stole your panties, breathing in your scent and using the fabric to jerk their throbbing cocks off. And the just for fun pictures they took, oh they had a whole album of them. You didn't even notice most of them being taken. And they made sure to always exchange them with each other if they got some new material.

During movie nights they had you squished between their bodies, one of them softly caressing and squeezing the fat of your thighs, while the other was playing with the hem of your tiny shorts. They liked to think that you wore them especially for them, exchanging knowing grins while your eyes were focused on the tv screen in front of you.

You were just too cute not to tease. Especially when your breath hitched as their fingers got dangerously close to your core. Or when you were clutching onto their shirts when their hot breath and lips hit your neck making you squirm. And after the first time they made you cum, they knew they were hooked. And when they finally had sex with you for the first time, they swore they fell in love. You were so cute and obedient and just so so soft. They loved watching you squirm as you tried to take them like a good girl. To your surprise, most of the time they were really gentle with you while praising you throughout their thrusts.

They both fucked you on their own the first time, but slowly tried to get you used to them both being there. The first few times it was one of them fucking you while the other just watched, dick throbbing in their hand and finishing with cumming on your face or tits. They were also very big on aftercare, spoiling you with anything you needed and praising you for taking them like a champ.

But one day they just couldn't help themselves and thought of a pretty little surprise for you. Suguru told you that he had to leave to run some errands, leaving you alone with Satoru, which ended with you on your side while Satoru was pounding into you from behind on your shared bed.

"'Toruuu~ feel so good you're so deep- ah"

"Yeah? Feels good right, look I'm in your fucking tummy, baby. You're so tiny. 'Can feel myself all the way in there", he whispered as he splayed his hand out over your lower stomach, kissing along the expanse of your neck.

You were too caught up in the moment to even pay attention that Suguru had not left at all and was listening to both of you through the closed door, already undressed waiting for his cue.

"Baby?"

"Hmm?", you mewled arching your back as he played with one of your hardened nipples.

"Can you keep your eyes closed for me for a bit? I want to try something out. Oh, and lift your leg a bit. Thats it, good girl", he praised while holding your leg up by the knee. The new angle making you feel light headed.

You were too fucked out to notice the door opening and closing as a certain someone slipped inside the room. He had to hold back a gasp when he saw you splayed out like this. Completely bare, looking insanely soft and spread wide open just for them. Satoru and him exchanged a look and he slowly made his way over to where the two of you were laying. When the bed dipped under his weight next to you, your eyes opened.

"Hi pretty," he pecked your lips.

"Nnngh Suguru are you back already? I thought you were- ah", you gasped as Satoru rolled his hips into you expertly.

"I never left, angel. We wanted to surprise you."

"Surprise me how?" you questioned mouth slightly hanging open and pupils blown wide open.

"We think you're ready to take us both. Would you like to try that, hm? If it hurts too bad we can stop."

You hesitated. Take them both? How? Your questions were answered as you felt Suguru's member prod at your etrance.

"I don't think I can-"

"Oh sure you can, you're so wet. Don't worry, we'll make it fit. You're such a big girl, I'm sure you can take two cocks in your pussy. It's gonna feel so good, I promise."

You were skeptical, but the thought did make you gush around Satoru. He kissed your neck for reassurance as Suguru went to cup your breast, fondling it softly. You felt so nervous, but safe at the same time. You trusted them, so you nodded your head letting out a breathless, "Okay, I'm ready."

"We'll take this slow, we got you."

The first stretch almost make you scream as you slung your arm around Suguru, scratching his back in the process while hiding in the crook of his neck

As soon as they both bottomed out he whispered against your hair, "Shhh it's fine, you're fine. Tell us when you're ready for us to move."

You took a couple of deep breaths trying to adjust to the extreme stretch. After a while you finally nodded and they slowly picked up their pace.

Suguru tried to kiss your pain away swallowing all of your whines in a deep kiss.

"You're doing so well for us, such a good girl.", Satoru whispered against the nape of your neck. And as you felt tears swelling, Suguru made sure to wipe them away smiling at you gently.

After a while it did start feeling incredible you were huffing and puffing as they both moved in sync stuffing you to the brim.

"Feels good", you moaned against Suguru's lips, "more, want more!" And it made you squirm as you felt Satoru suck a deep hickey into the side of your neck.

"Such a greedy girl. But see, I promised we'd make you feel good."

"Yeah, you're so tight and wet for us, good girl. Such a good girl for taking two big cocks so well."

"Want you to fill me up.. please and 'want to cum! Want to cum on your perfect cocks, please make me cum."

Your moans really got to their heads as they picked up the pace fucking into you harder than before.

"Yeah? Wanna cum? Of course we're gonna make you cum, how could we not if you beg so nicely."

"And we're gonna fill you up to the brim, make you nice and plump." with that Satoru moved his hand from your leg to your clit, rubbing thick circles into it, which made you see stars. They were hitting all of the right spots and you felt yourself getting close.

"'m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-!!"

And you swore you saw hearts in Suguru's eyes as soon as you clamped down on their cock, creaming all over them and letting out the lewdest moan they have ever heard you make.

"Ah, holy shit. So good, you're so good for us. Oh my god." Suguru praised as they both continued to fuck you through your high, Satoru's fingers not leaving your clit. You felt yourself get overstimulated as you grabbed onto Suguru's arms digging your nails into them.

"'S too much I can't, I can't-"

"Shh you're almost there, you got it, just a little more."

You bit down on your lip, moaning in the rhythm of their thrusts. But you definitely didn't expect another orgasm to come your way.

"Shit! I think I'm gonna cum again, please don't stop 'Toru.. please dont!!"

"Like hell I would!", he slurred. His arm was starting to burn from the tension, but his rhythm didn't falter, rubbing you through your second high.

And at the feeling if your your tight cunt convulsing around their cocks they lost themselves, filling you up to the brim with their warm cum.

"Oh god I'm so full, it's all the way in my womb, gooood" you cried against Suguru's shoulder as he pulled you close and kissed the top of your head.

Satoru kissed the back of your head as the three of you stayed like this for a while, basking in each other's warmth.

You were the first to break the silence, trying to peel yourself from their grasps, "Okay enough.. ah I feel so sticky and uncomfy", you whined. They only chuckled at you being so adorable. Eventually, Satoru was the first to pull out and get up from the bed.

"I'll go make a bath ready and get you a glass of water."

You nodded with a weak smile, feeling Suguru pull out of you as well, but still keeping your body close while stroking your hair.

"Were you comfortable? Did it hurt a lot?"

"At first yes, it hurt quite a bit..", you sighed. "But then it felt really good, I liked it a lot. Thank you for the surprise."

Suguru chuckled against your head, "You're welcome, glad you liked it. I'm very proud of you by the way. You did such a good job."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his praise, but you let out a groan at his next words.

"Sooo.. any positions you'd like to try next?"

And with perfect timing Satoru walked right in on your conversation. "Are you plotting a round two without me??!, he fake gasped, which only earned him a pillow right in his face, almost spilling the glass of water he brought for you.

"Definitely not right now!!"

But it also made you smile at how well you all got along, you were definitely looking forward to your future with them.

-----

Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^

#takes with nini♡ #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk headcanons #satoru smut #suguru smut #suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu smut #satosugu #jjk x you #jjk scenarios #jjk drabbles #gojo x geto x reader #gojo x geto x you #satoru x suguru x reader #geto x gojo x reader #gojo x reader x geto #geto x reader x gojo

[beelmons]

44. “I saw you naked once.  And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

45. “How are you so oblivious?  I’m trying to tell you I’m fucking horny!” with spencer also he would literally memorize your body

Mini skirts. Tight shirts. Clevage. Accidental falls on his lap. Caresses on the thigh. You had used every move on your book, albeit questionably outdated, to get his attention, and that wasn't even through out the week, it was just this morning.

You couldn't get Spencer Reid to look at you, let alone sleep with you. Regardless of how badly you wanted that. One would think with his ability to read body language he would have already noticed that you were practically oozing pheromones in his direction, like an animal in heat, and yet he continued to drift his sight whenever you bent over to obnoxiously pick up the eleventh pen you had dropped since you got to the office. Everyone else enjoyed the show, everyone but the one person it was directed to.

Needless to say, your mood took a hit. Scratch that, you were straight up sad. You had heard chatter from Penelope and JJ that he liked you, and you decided to go for it only to find out, allegedly, that he didn't have the least interest in you.

You mopped around the rest of the day, and you had changed into more comfortable clothes you carried on your go-bag; what was the point on looking hot if he wasn't even gonna notice? Time flew by and night fell, everyone went home on time, thank god, but you chose to stay behind. The only thing worse than being horny for your uninterested coworker was sitting at home alone masturbating to the thought of him.

"You're not leaving?" his voice startled you a bit, forcing you to look up from the file you were working on.

"No." you answered dryly, uncharacteristic of you "Got a lot of stuff to do."

He stood there with his usual awkward demeanor, the same one you found utterly adorable and annoyingly attractive. His hands fiddled with the strap of his bag, deciding whether to simply let you be or intervene in your clearly bad mood.

"Are you okay?" he asked doubtfully.

"You know what? I'm not." you, somehow, gathered the courage to say, you stood up from your desk and closed the folder annoyedly, your lower body rested against the edge of the surface, your arms folded over your chest "Do you even like me?" you asked.

"What? Of course I like you!" he blurted out desperately, dropping his bag to his side to hurriedly stand in front of you "I consdier us to be very good friends."

"That's not— " you had to stop yourself, there was no point in threading lightly around Spencer, you knew that "I have been trying to get your attention the entire day, and you won't even spare me a glance."

"I can't look at you while we're working! I immediately get—" he also had to force his voice to stop and lower, clearing his throat in the process, it was late but not that late, people could still be around. He took a deep breath in, trying his best not to perish out of embarrassment at his confession "One time, Hotch asked me to go get you for a briefing. You were in the locker rooms, it was an accident, I swear, I didn't expect to see you naked, but I did." his face had tinted a lovely red, and his hands were having a hard time keeping still "I can't stop thinking about it. If I as much as look at you, I will get excited."

You swallowed an anticipated knot in your throat, and a pulsating sensation took over your lower body.

"I'm pretty sure there's a way I could help you with that." you extended your arms to have them laying on his shoulders, promptly wrapping them around his neck.

"There is, actually, you could start buttoning your shirts properly." he said, and you had to roll your eyes.

Instead of saying something else, you tugged him forward to let your lips land on the side of his jawline. He lost his balance for a second, having to press his palm against the desk for support. Soft moans were coming out from his lips at the licks and gentle sucks you would take on his skin trailing down his neck.

"How oblivious can you be?" you muttered against his skin before moving to his mouth, your teeth dragging his bottom in a playful nibble "I'm trying to tell you that I'm fucking horny."

Your words barely had left your mouth before he was attacking it with his own. His hips pressed forward and you could feel the harded bulge rub against your thighs.

It was the rustling of his belt being pulled open what let you know you had finally cracked Spencer Reid, and you were in for a good night of being rewarded for that.

#this one is not so smutty i am very sorry #couldn't quite figure out how to make it so #more like foreplay #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #blurb: mine #blurb: spencer #blurb: smut

[gutsby]

Joel Miller

Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)

Joel has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

One shots for the Waiting Game ‘verse

Homemade: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Diehard: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Ruined!: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]

Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Confines: Joel locks you up in a subterranean bunker.

Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)

Something about the sun in Cabo San Lucas and your best friend’s father’s sweaty body makes you a horny mess. When you find an old shirt of his lying around, you can’t resist. When Mr. Miller finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.

Cry, Baby

Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Just Peachy [anal]

Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Bucky Barnes

Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Daryl Dixon

Dead Ringer

Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.

Easy Street

You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Nighthawk

You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Cherry Pie

You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Walker Bait

An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk

Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Honey Trap

You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Pregnant Pause

Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Mr. Dixon

Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Playing Dangerous

Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Best Served Cold

Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Coming Soon:

Bite the Bullet

Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesn’t sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides it’s time to let the men know just how he feels—and who you belong to.

Atlantic City

A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon won’t be one to remember.

Requests are open!

[kentosbabes]

Pool time

Best friends older brother trope with Gojo (smutty af)

Gojo, your best friend’s older brother, fuck this is going against every girl code in the world. You grew up with them, your families were close so you spent every summer at their grandparents and they came with you on holiday. And to be fair, you never saw him like that anyways, that was until this summer. Usually, he’d be stuck in hisgaming with friends or outside playing basketball. You stayed with your mother for the first half of the summer, and you were invited to stay with their family for the rest as she had a holiday booked with your father and Gojo’s parents abroad. It was just like normal, except well it was evident that he had a really good summer.

Walking into the living room and dumping your bag on your best friends bed, you went to get a glass of water and some snacks to watch some tv with. But there he was, hair annoyingly perfect and my god did he have abs now? Sweaty, shirtless and glistening. You could’ve had an aneurism right there and then. “-n, Y/n?” Spaced out of course you did, “Hey! How have you been stranger?” He throws a signature smirk your way and did your stomach just flip flop?

This isn’t right, you should see him like a brother or at the very least a very platonic friend. You both conversant with each other, it was like no time had passed- he still teases you and you still get playfully annoyed at his dumb remarks. You explain the situation, that you’re staying here until both of your parents come back from their vacation. “Well, it’s good having you around it hasn’t been the same without you.” You couldn’t tell if he was flirting with you or just playing around.

Days turned into weeks, and your time at the Gojo house proved to be an adventure of its own. There was an unspoken tension between you and Satoru that made you confused the most. It was the late-night conversations on the rooftop, stolen glances across the dinner table, and playful banter filled the air. There was an undeniable magnetism pulling you and Satoru closer together, yet the fear of jeopardizing your friendship held you back.

With each passing day, the bond between you and Satoru grew stronger, and the line between friendship and something more became blurred. The forbidden desires that had remained dormant for years began to surface, igniting a flame that couldn't be extinguished.

One scorching afternoon, as you lounged by the pool, the heat seemed to intensify between you and Gojo. Your friend left to hang out with her boyfriend so it left the both of you to try cool down in the pool. Beads of sweat trickled down your temples as you watched Gojo emerge from the water, his toned physique glistening.

You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The air was thick with an unspoken tension, and your heart raced in anticipation.

“Do you feel this? Tell me I’m not crazy,” he starts to swim closer to you, “We can’t do this, you’re my younger sisters friend,” Gojo is looking at your lips and deep into your eyes.

“Yes, you can, I’m eighteen and she doesn’t need to know and if she finds out she can get over it.”The heat is unbearable, the tips of your noses are touching and you’re breathing in synchronicity. “Fuck,” he pauses, “I guess we are.”

Closing the gap between your lips, kissing you in the pool, underneath the water, his fingers are already slipping inside the lining of your suit, long, insistent. “Gojo,” you plead.

Sitting on the edge of the pool step, you settle in his lap- your chest still underwater but your head available for his miscreants. As you settles over his lap, a growing bulge you pretend isn’t there, like his dick isn’t burying itself up in your skimpy suit. “Please, Gojo,” you whine, you start to ache- unconsciously grinding on him. “I gotta say, I love hearing you say my name like that.” Kissing your neck and bitting the love of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re already wet for me right now, I can tell the difference between the slick your pussy makes and water.” He pulls the bikini bottom aside and his cock slides between your soft thighs, up against that wet flesh. Prodding. Teasing. Hard.

As he stretches you open, the initial thrust inside is slow and pleasantly sharp. He's big, shifting his hips slowly for you to take it all in. He feels unlike anyone you’ve ever been with; there's a sadistic edge to his slowness, dragging each stroke as if he wants to slide over every nerve in the tight confines of your cunt. “Fuck, I know you like this so let me hear it, she’s gone to the shops and won’t be back for a while.”

Moaning louder and whimpering his name like a mantra you listen well to his commands.

You gasp into his mouth, unconsciously raising your leg up to wrap around his waist as he supports you with his arm, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as you feel yourself reach your high, the coil in your tummy snapping. Water rushes around your waists, splashes between your bodies, and you feels so warm, so weightless. Blissed out and fucked out.

“Gonna cum? I know you are I can feel it, it’s ok I’m right here, you can do it, don’t act like you don’t want me to fuck you even harder than this. You’re clenching and squeezing my fat dick that’s buried in your cunt, I’m right here babe. Come for me baby. ”

“Y/N? Gojo? I’m back! What’s up?” Your friend of five years asks, Gojo drapes his arms around you like he’s giving you a hug, innocent, friendly. “Nothing much, it was too hot in the house and we wanted a dip in the pool,” you quickly added.

“Ah, well I have an assignment that’s due tomorrow so I can’t join you but I put the ice cream in the freezer so feel free to get one.”

Gojo’s sister leaned in to theatrically whisper, “But if I catch you eating my Ben and Jerry’s cookies and cream ice cream I’ll kill you.” You shifted yourself further back into the pool to avoid her seeing what you two are doing, immediately regretting it because Gojo’s dick hit a spot that sent you a little haywire. Causing you to gasp. Your friend looked at you in concern, “Just stood on my foot wrong” reclaiming your composure.

Gojo started to rock his hips, pushing back into your soft body, ass bouncing against him underwater, before the door hushes over the frame again. Quietly shushing and grabbing a handful of your soft ass, squeezing and rubbing. He buries his fingers into your flesh till you feel that you’re going to be bruised. At this point, his cock is so hard that the friction of it inside of you makes you feel so full, that it’s so achingly deep. You cum fast and hard, ducking your head under the water and covering your mouth lips with his hand.

“We need to do that again. Fuck.” He whispers into your ear.

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[avatar-anna]

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

April 2016

“Thank you for meeting me.”

Y/n settled into the seat across from Harry. Her hands curled tightly around her mug, apprehension seeping into her bones. “Of course.”

She had been surprised when Harry called her, asking to meet at the Beachwood Cafe. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not one call or text, not even an email. Not that Y/n really expected much when One Direction finally went on hiatus, but after zero communication, she wasn’t quite sure why he’d called her all these months later. 

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Harry asked.

Y/n’s eyebrows raised a bit, but she answered him anyway after taking a sip of her coffee. “Fine, I guess. You?”

“Good!” Harry said excitedly. “Taking a break the last few months has been…I don’t know. Peaceful, but odd, you know? I’ve never had so much time to myself before.”

“Must be nice,” Y/n said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

“Yeah, but I realized that I kind of miss it,” he said. “I knew once we decided on the hiatus that I wanted to do my own thing, but I thought I would take a longer break, but I feel like I’m…itching to get back to work.”

That definitely seemed like Harry. Y/n had worked for him for years, and even when there were breaks between tours, he was hard at work—writing, going to Fashion Week, collaborating with other artists, vocal training, even trying new recipes in his state-of-the-art kitchen, which led to a phone call at one in the morning where Harry asked Y/n to come over and see if his macrons tasted "fluffy enough." It seemed only right that he rested for mere months before starting a new project. She could practically picture him at either of his homes in LA or London, scribbling in his leatherbound journal or playing new melodies on his guitar or piano (and the occasional late-night pastry party). As long as she’d known him, Harry had been a hard worker through and through. A little on the wild side when he had some tequila in him, but when it came down to his career, he was focused, determined. 

“Good for you,” Y/n said, meaning it. She always thought he was capable of more. “So what comes next for you? Have you recorded songs already?”

“Not quite. I’m planning a trip to Jamaica to write and record there. It’s remote, serene, a good place to get away. So we’ll have to start booking flights and places to stay and—”

“I’m sorry, ‘We?’” Y/n asked, her brow furrowing with confusion. 

Harry matched her look of confusion with one of his own. “Yeah, I mean—I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

The sentiment warmed Y/n’s heart for a moment, but his immediate assumption that she would drop everything just because he asked her to brought the irritation swarming back. “Mr. Sty—Harry, you know I don’t work for you anymore, right?”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the hiatus? I just thought we could all use some time off, but…I guess I just thought—”

Harry didn’t finish his thought, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Y/n would’ve found it cute if he hadn’t been so dense. Resentment still circled around her like a fog, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily, she couldn’t. 

“I was employed by your management, Harry. To be an assistant to a member of One Direction,” Y/n explained. “I was let go. I had to quickly find another job doing something else.”

“Oh.”

Y/n supposed she should’ve anticipated being fired, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information that she was privy to that most people weren’t, secrets that were tightly bound by an NDA when she was first hired, but talks of the hiatus was very hushed. She knew to suspect that somewhere down the line the boys would finally take a break, but it came a lot sooner than she was prepared for, and she was left jobless before she had the chance to line something else up. Y/n thought that Harry would give her the courtesy of a warning, but he said nothing about it to her, didn’t offer much except a side hug after One Direction’s last performance.

So yeah, she was a little bitter.

“I’m—I’m really sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn’t make up for…all of this and everything you went through, but I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you.” 

Y/n believed him, believed that he was sorry for everything that went down, but it still hurt to know she wasn’t someone he was close enough to talk to about all of this at the time. She was Harry’s assistant, she knew that, but they’d been through a lot together. But he was ever the professional it seemed, and it was her job to remember that, not his.

When she realized her coffee was finished, Y/n stood up. “Well, it was good seeing you, Harry. Good luck on your next project. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Wait, but—you’re not—you‘re leaving?”

“I have to run a couple errands before work," Y/n explained. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But really, no hard feelings. I wish you all the best.”

She left Harry at the table, heading for the front of the cafe and toward the busy street beyond. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away, but she tried to shake the feeling that she was walking away from more than just her boss. Former boss. Like her mother always reminded her, she couldn’t be a personal assistant forever.

“Wait!”

Y/n turned on instinct, eyes widening as Harry jogged after her, his little bun bouncing with each step. He skidded to a stop in front of her, green eyes wide and searching. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the heat of his gaze was enough to make butterflies stir in her stomach.

Putting on her best front, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Harry to say whatever he needed to.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need you, Y/n,” he said. “I—You’re the only one who really knows me, who I know will have my back no matter what. I need a familiar face in my corner.”

I need you, Y/n. Those words were her kryptonite. Year after year, Y/n heard Harry's voice over the phone as he roused her from sleep, read the text messages while she was getting her nails done or watched TV in her hotel room, or on the rare occasion she went on a date. But she had to hold strong. Y/n had been devastated by her sudden layoff, but now she had a life, and she didn't want to get sucked back into Harry's very alluring web of charming smiles, cheesy jokes, and endless adventure. That was his life, not hers.

“I have a job, Harry. I can’t just drop everything and quit because you suddenly want me to—”

“What are they paying you?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Harry pushed on. “What are they paying you? I’ll double it.”

Scoffing in disbelief, she said, “It’s not about the money—”

“Triple,” he countered. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. He looks desperate, Y/n thought.

“I can’t just quit my job because you remembered I existed,” Y/n said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. She clung to her resolve, hoping Harry would make this easy and just let it go, let her go. “I—I deserve more.”

More of what, she wasn’t sure, but Y/n knew it was true. Harry only reached out because he needed something from her, and that hurt more than she cared to admit. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. A pair of scuffed Chelsea boots he wore practically everywhere. Y/n had bought him a pair of Vans one year, an attempt to switch up his wardrobe, but he still chose the boots nine times out of ten. “Just—At least think about coming to Jamaica. Please?”

“Harry—”

“Not as my assistant. As a guest. A friend,” Harry amended. “We’re planning on staying at a huge villa, and I want to make up for being an idiot. Just—Just think about it. Please.”

Despite everything, Y/n found herself wanting to say yes. It was that magnetic pull she felt toward Harry that had kept her working for him for so long. He was an important person in her life, and up until he’d all but ghosted her after the hiatus, she thought she was important to him too. In spite of his misgivings, Y/n still wanted to believe that she was. 

It was so stupid, but it felt good to be wanted by him. She was an idiot, she knew that. But her friendship with Harry was legitimate, he'd just acted like a complete idiot. She'd known him long enough to know he was very capable of acting like an idiot. So even though she shouldn’t, even though she had carefully lined up her reasons not to in a little line, she started to cave. 

But she couldn’t make the decision now. Not when Harry was looking at her with pleading green eyes and his sad little puppy dog face, his cologne dizzyingly lovely. No, she owed it to herself to really think about what she wanted. If getting sucked back into that whirlwind was worth it. Worth getting her heart properly broken when she knew he would never feel the same about her.

"I'll show up at work, you know," Harry said. "I'm not above it. You might think I am, but I'm not."

Y/n had no doubt in her mind that he would. Along with being an idiot, Harry was very stubborn, and very persistent. She had years with him to know that. Did she really need Harry Styles showing up at her place of work?

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” she finally said, trying to pretend like her heart was screaming to just agree. But her heart was an impulsive little shit that was bound to get her in trouble.

Harry’s face broke out into a wide grin, one that displayed those famous dimples and lit up his entire face. It was hard to feel like he didn't think she was the only person on earth to exist when he looked like that, like he was convinced she’d already said yes. “I’ll take it.”

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