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stardustjmk · 2 months

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Tears For Fears | J.T.K

Summary: in which spending some time with your friends sounds like a fun time, until alchohol gets involved.

Warnings: angst, alcoholic parent, alcohol consumption.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader | Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers | Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: one thing about me is i’m gonna write self indulgent fics. i’m also sure there’s someone else out there who needs this, and even if you may not relate, i hope it brings you some joy and comfort, because who doesn’t love a good, fluffy jake fic? also, i apologize if there are any errors, it’s been so long since i’ve written anything. oh, and this fic has nothing to do with the duo tears for fears i just rocked with the name LMAO

You knew alchohol was bound to be involved. After all, you’d spent almost a decade with the four boys, so their habits weren’t something you we’re oblivious to. Regardless, you accepted, reminding yourself that even when damn near shit-faced, they never acted like your mother. In fact, the last time you’d been around the group while they were drinking, you felt comfortable enough to relax, and even have a drink of your own. It was only a wine cooler, but it was a step farther than you’d normally go, and the fact that you felt comfortable doing it was a big deal to you.

So, going into the little getaway, you figured it would be like that again, but that wasn’t the case. At the time you accepted the offer, you were in a good mood, almost entirely unbothered by the idea of alchohol being present. In fact, having a few drinks of your own sounded nice, but now, as you pad down the stairs and hear the unmistakable popping sound, your heart sinks.

You were all to familiar with it, and when you rounded the corner to then be hit with the smell of whiskey, you swear your stomach flipped, and your head began to spin. You’d taken a deep breath, trying to not let it bother you, but then came the sound of ice clinking as it hits the glass, with the crackling sound of the liquid being poured over it a moment later. For a second, you felt like your younger self again, the dread you felt then coming back to you in this very moment. For your sake and everyone else’s, you decided that a breath of fresh air would do you some good, and made your way to the back door.

You step onto the back porch and pull the door closed behind you, being ever so gentle with it. For whatever reason, if you used even a little bit too much pressure, the door would slam shut, and you remember Karen jokingly scolding you for it the first time you’d been here. The memory brings a small smile to your face, despite the anxiety that manifests in your chest. You suck in a sharp breath, the cool air filling your lungs as you do so. It’s refreshing and grounding, your breath swirling in front of you as you exhale.

You release the door knob and fold your arms in front of yourself as a gust of wind travels through the Michigan night, and your body shudders involuntarily. You scan the porch, and the scenery surrounding it, taking in the nostalgic view. Then, you remember the boys mentioning that they’d put up fairy lights the last time they were here, and sure enough, the string lights lined the roof of the porch. You scanned the floor, searching for where you could plug in the lights, and did just that as you found it.

It lights up the porch, casting a gentle, warm glow over everything. The light only travels a few feet out from the porch, leaving the rest of the yard to only be lit up by the bright moon. You sigh, then walk to the steps that lead to the grass, and take a seat on the top one. The wooden floor of the porch is cold, on your thighs, making you shudder again. It’s quiet, aside from the muffled chatter coming from inside of the cabin. Then, the whole reason you’re sitting here dawns on you again, and inevitably, your mind wanders to an unpleasant place.

Jake is the only one who knows about your past. In depth, at least. He found out years ago, when you both were still teenagers. It was common for you to flea to the Kiszka home to get away from your mom, but usually, you would disguise it as something else. Fortunately, they were always welcoming you with open arms, happy to have you no matter the circumstance. Normally, you’d be able to leave your house before it got bad, until one night where you’d pushed things too far.

You were fed up with your moms habits, and for the first time, tried to stand up for yourself. You simply tried to stop her from getting another drink, doing your best to be calm, but of course she, in her intoxicated state, blew up on you. Normally, you wouldn’t fight. You’d disassociate as she scolded you, telling you that you’re too young to understand, and that you should wait until you’re her age, having to soak up everyone’s bullshit, and then you can ask about how many drinks she’s had.

That time, though, you fought back. You argued with her for at least an hour, and by the end of it, were in shambles. She’d told you off in a way that you’d never been told off before, essentially calling you a disappointment and a burden. You managed to text Jake before she took your phone - for no reason, might you add - and when you told her that you were leaving, she said “Go cry to the Kiszka’s like you always do.” with a venom dripping from her words unlike any you’d heard before. To this day, you remember that vividly.

You held off your tears long enough to get past Karen, as the last thing you wanted to do was worry her, certain that she had enough on her plate with her own kids. Despite being able to tell you were upset, she could also read that you didn’t necessarily want to talk about it, so she dismissed you. You’d been to their house enough to know who’s room was where, so it wasn’t hard to get to Jakes- the twins’ room. You were relieved to find that Jake was the only one in the room when you walked in. Not that Josh being there would have been a problem, - in fact, in most cases, you’d gone to Josh for comfort, as he was always the perfect balance of silly and comforting - but this time, you longed for Jake.

Before you could determine why that was, you’d broken into tears. Jake immediately jumped up from his bed and took you in his arms, hugging you tightly. You buried your face into his neck, wrapping your arms around him twice as tightly as he did you. He was taken aback and remained silent, just letting you sob in his hold. He carefully brought you to the bed, where he continued hugging you. Unsure of what exactly to do, he wearily rubbed your back. You missed it in the moment, just Josh had come into the room, and before he could say anything, Jake shooed him away.

Josh closed the door and left, knowing that wasn’t the time to be snarky.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to guess?” Jake said, his tone somehow a mix of playful, concern, and comfort. You drew in a shaky breath and ended up explaining everything to him. You told him how it happened, what your mom had said, and even traveled back to past experiences. Jake was at a loss for words, but his touch delivered a comfort that surpassed anything he could have said, and you spent at least an hour clinging to him.

Later that night, your mom called, having sobered up. At that point, everyone except you and the twins had gone to bed. Josh was the one who picked up the phone, and you ended up taking over. You’d been too exhausted to fight with her, and simply went along with her suddenly apologetic acts. She didn’t put up a fight when you said you’d be staying at Jake’s place, but you knew she’d be on your ass about it the next day. However, as Jake looked at you from the couch with worried eyes, you couldn’t be bothered. This was your home - he was your home, and in that moment, you were sure of it.

In the midst of recalling the bittersweet memory, the back door opens and brings you back to reality. You look over your shoulder, relieved to see Jake standing there. “Hi,” you say softly, your voice strained slightly. “Hi,” he hums in response, shutting the door in the same manner you had done when you came out a few minutes ago. “You okay?” he asks, the soft rasp of his voice making you slightly giddy. “Yeah,” you say, but he knows all too well that something has to be bothering you at least a little bit.

He remains silent, standing near the back door, his gaze lingering on your backside. It’s quiet for a few moments, before he speaks. “Is it the alcohol?” he asks, and you should have known that he’d be able to easily detect the issue, but a part of you is still shocked that he was able to figure it out in such a short amount of time. Reluctantly, you nod your head. Guilt begins to pool in the pit of your stomach, as you hate the idea that your own issues might affect their fun, but unbeknownst to you, that’s the last thing Jake is worried about.

He takes a few steps forward and leans on the railing of the porch, forearms resting on the wood. He glances down at you, then looks out in the distance, following your own gaze. “Do you want me to tell them to put it away?” he asks, and you sigh. It’s frustrating, in a way. The fact that you can’t seem to get past it, that you can’t just let loose and trust yourself, and your friends, all because of a bottle of alchohol. “No,” you respond flatly. You can feel Jake’s eyes on you, and you try your hardest to stop your bottom lip from quivering as you get the urge to cry, but you can’t help it.

Fortunately, Jake doesnt overreact. He takes slow steps behind you, his signature chelsea boots thudding on the floor with each step. He plops down beside you, his thigh pressed against yours. It’s a subtle move of comfort, one that works, and only does so when Jake does it.

Your relationship with him, at this point in time, is hard to explain. You’re not just friends, you both know it, and so do the boys…hell, even his parents have probably caught onto it. That being said, you’re not officially dating either. Neither of you are oblivious to the chemistry you share, and you suppose that’s why you never felt the need to bring it up. However, as time goes on, a part of you wants to push the line of friends, to see what could become of your relationship if you were to bring attention to the aforementioned chemistry you have.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Jake asks, his eyes practically staring into your soul as you make eye contact with him. Your heart leaps at his words, and you swallow harshly. “I don’t even know,” you mutter, chuckling softly. It makes him smile; your brief amusement. “I guess i’m just frustrated,” you say, eyes flickering down to his lips as they purse. “Elaborate,” he says simply. Now, he’s turned his full body towards you, and rests his arm over your lap, his hand cupping the outer side of your thigh. Again, your heart leaps in your chest, and your stomach flips.

You avoid his gaze, looking off into the distance once again. You press your lips together for a moment, thinking about how to word your thoughts. “I feel bad…like, I hate that I can’t just relax and let you guys have fun.” Jake hums, “We are having fun,” he says, making you roll your eyes subtly. “You know what I mean,” you finally return your eyes to his, and every part of you wants to lean in and kiss him, especially given how cute he looks in these moments. He’s staring at you with big, brown eyes, ones that are too often hidden behind dark sunglasses, and the way he looks at you makes your head spin.

“Sure, but we don’t have to drink to have fun,” he explains, pressing his point further. You eye him, shoulders slumping with defeat. “I know, but,” you pause. It’s always conflicting; the half of you that wants to join in on the drinking, to just goof off and enjoy the tingly feeling of alchohol in your system, versus the other half of you that wishes it would cease to exist. “But what?” Jake asks, his voice impossibly softer. Your brows furrow, “Do you do that on purpose?” you ask, and his expression mirrors yours, with his brows knitting together in confusion. “Do what?” he asks.

You aren’t even sure how to explain it to him. If only you could put him in your shoes right now. “I don’t know, Jake, you just,” you’re getting flustered now, almost regretting that you even said anything. He waists, and you swear he’s batting his eyelashes at you. Your breath catches in your throat, and it takes every fiber of your being to remain still. “You just have this way of…being, I suppose,” you say, and you know it sounds stupid, but it’s almost worth it when Jake smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, looking away, and a part of you is almost frustrated with him, but it doesn’t last for long.

“Come on, talk to me,” Jake says after a few moments of silence. “About what?” you ask. “Either the drinking situation, or whatever my way of…’being’ is,” he uses air quotes when he says ‘being’, playfully mocking you. You huff, “I guess i’m just scared,” you say, then clarify, “of drinking, I mean.” He nods, “What are you afraid of?” he asks, and your mind goes right back to where it was earlier, when you’d seen Josh pop open the very whiskey your mom used to drink - you weren’t upset with Josh, or any of the boys. They didn’t know, and even if they did, you wouldn’t have been upset.

“Well I mean, for starters, it doesn’t even feel that great to drink-“ Jake stops you. “No, what are you afraid of?” he repeats, making you swallow. You stay quiet, pressing your lips together. You’re searching for any comfort you can get, and Jake delivers it as he takes your hand in both of his, his thumbs soothing over your skin.

“I’ve seen what it does to some people, Jake,” you mutter, and he leans in to ensure he hears you. He nods, thinking back to the night where you told him everything.

He felt so helpless, it hurt. He remembers it almost as vividly as you do, and certainly remembers the way his chest ached as you cried into his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He also felt angry, knowing that you’d have to go home and deal with your mom again, but he knew better than to try and do anything - at the end of the day, all he could do was hold you, be there for you, and even if he wasn’t sure how to do that, he internally promised himself to do his best.

“I don’t want to be the way my mom was-is…she stopped for a while, just drinking wine here and there, but she’s picked up whiskey again,” you explain. Jake had yet to learn that, and that tells him all he needs to know. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and the sheer gentleness of his words makes you want to dissolve into a puddle of tears. “It’s okay,” you respond, voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t have to drink, but I want you to know that you will never be like your mom, okay?” He says, and you can feel a lump forming in your throat. You choose to nod rather than speak, not trusting that your voice wouldn’t fail you. He lifts a hand to your cheek just in time for a tear to fall from your eyes, and he swipes it away gently.

“Come here,” he says sweetly, cradling your head to his chest as he embraces you. It’s nostalgic, this moment, and how similar it is to that night you spent with him, sobbing in his arms. Fortunately, this time, you’re much more calm, even if the tears are still falling. “Jakey,” you hadn’t intended to use the nickname, but sometimes, it finds it way out almost instinctively. “Yes?” he responds, rubbing your back. You nuzzle into him, taking a moment to relish in his hold.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask. He didn’t know exactly what to expect, but that wasn’t it. Between the overwhelming urge to confess to him right now, and your desire to finally overcome your own fear, you’re warming up to the thought of a shot or two.

“Yn, sweetheart, I already told you that I don’t care. I don’t need to drink to have f-“ you’re the one to cut him off this time. “I know, but do you want to have a drink? Because I think a drink sounds kind of nice,” you say. Jake sighs, not a frustrated sigh, but rather a…disappointed sigh? He’s unsure of what exactly he was sighing for, but the possibility that you were going to confess to him flashes through his mind, and he knows deep down that’s the reason for it. Suddenly, he’s on par with a drink as well, but remains mindful as you lead him back inside.

Youre half expecting to be bombarded by the other boys, but you find sam sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep, with Josh and danny in the middle of some intense conversation, one that they don’t pull away from. “Probably talking about music,” Jake mutters, shutting the back door. You glance at Jake, then look at Josh. His hands mimick Danny’s when he’s drumming, and what Jake said makes sense. “Seems like it,” you respond, then follow Jake into the kitchen.

“Please tell me you bought something other than whiskey,” you say, grimacing at the sight of the half empty bottle. “Honestly, I don’t know, I didn’t buy anything,” he says as he starts rummaging through the cabinets, and the idea that he refrained from buying anything because of you warms your heart. You watch as he scans the cabinets, and eventually, he finds the stash of drinks, listing them to you. You take your pick, grabbing two glasses as Jake opens the bottle. He pours a small amount into both glasses, and you don’t miss the way he takes a second to put the whiskey out of your view.

He turns his attention to you as he grabs his glass. “Thank you, Jakey,” you say softly, and he smiles, clinking his glass against yours. “Your welcome,“ he says softly, and you both down the shot, almost in sync as you place your glasses on the counter. You stand in a comfortable silence for a few moments, and given how rare it is for you to drink, it’s not long before you feel the subtle affects of the alcohol taking place.

“D’you wanna tell me about my way of being, now?”Jake asks suddenly, eyeing you. You know that, unless you seriously didn’t want to, he’s going to press you until you expound. Now, you’re even more unsure of how to explain it. “I don’t know how to explain it,” you mumble, looking at him. Your eyes meet, and he waits patiently for you to continue. “You just…” you bite your lip, hesitant to tell him the truth. He steps forward, closing some of the distance between you both. “Talk to me, baby,” he says, and it takes everything in you to keep your composure.

The amount of love you feel for him is overwhelming, and right now, between the very slight buzz you’re experiencing, his closeness to you, and the nickname, you’re almost dizzy. “Nobody makes me feel the way you do, Jake,”

you finally give him a peak into your mind, and even though you can’t tell, his heart is rapidly beating against his rib cage. He nods, encouraging you to continue. “Like, everything you do is so…you bring me so much comfort and peace, just by existing,” you explain, and despite trying to fight it, tears well in your eyes.

“You just mean so much to me, Jake and…I don’t know what i’d do without you, and especially nights like these, I can’t hardly stand just being your friend,” you know you’re jumping around a little bit, but you figure your point is getting across just fine.

“Then, what do you want us to be?” he asks softly. He’s not trying to be flirtatious, or teasing, he’s genuinely asking, and with the way he steps even closer, making you feel like he’s the only person in the world, you feel so comfortable giving him an answer. “Everything,” you respond. “I like what we have, I dont want to lose it…but I also want more, I suppose,” you say, eyes unable to break away from his. “I want to wake up to you, to go to sleep with you, to go everywhere with you, to just-“ you pause, choosing to save him the long explanation. “I love you, Jake.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you talk again just as he opens his mouth to speak. “And that’s not the alcohol talking,” you assure him. He laughs, shaking his head. “Baby, you had maybe an ounce or two, I know it isn’t the alchohol,” he hums. If it weren’t for the pet name, you’d likely have been annoyed at his teasing, but instead, you feel like you’re melting under his gaze. He takes one more step, your body’s almost touching. He slowly leans down, cupping your cheek as he does so. You lean into the warmth of his palm, eyes fluttering shut. They open only for a moment, and close when his lips land on yours. It’s a soft, but passionate kiss. One of your hands finds its place on his chest, the other gripping his wrist to keep his hand on your cheek as you fervently kiss him. When he pulls away, you’re both giddy.

“I love you too, yn,” he says honestly, and even if the way he just kissed you should have been enough to tell you that, hearing him say it lifts any doubts you had. “…And that’s not the alcohol talking,” he playfully mocks you, laughing as you gently smack his chest.

#new fic who cheered #i need jake #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka x you #jake kiszka fanfic #fanficiton #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #jtk x reader #gvf x reader #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic

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fettuccin-e · 6 months

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It's Never Easy

Kinktober Day 24: Edging

Tags: Steven Grant x Reader x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley, yeah that's right they're all here baby, afab!fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), unprotected piv (wrap it irl I am begging you), edging, crying during sex, orgasm denial (w/c: 1.3K)

A/N: Yeah that's right the boys are back in town, and by that I mean all three moonboys. They're all little shits and I adore them (For Kinktober, I've been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

You think that you’re finally wearing Steven down.

He’s been at this for hours now, you think, burying himself between your thighs and losing himself like he never wants to leave. He’s fucking incessant when he gets you like this, licking at your cunt until his eyes have glazed over and he’s grinding slowly into the bedsheets. He moans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations from it going up your spine.

“Fuck, Steven, I need-” you moan, your chest heaving with the way Steven sucks your clit into his mouth, licking at you in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your hips hump into his face, chasing the sensation. “I can’t, fuck, I’m gonna- think I’m gonna-”

He pulls his face away just like that, watching as you shout, your hips grinding into nothing but air as your pleasure and your orgasm dissipate. He holds your thighs apart and just looks at the way you tremble, his eyes wide and a blush high on his face.

“That’s it, darling, so fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, and you grind your teeth together. This is the third time, the third fucking time, he’s done that. Gotten you so close, your body locking up and threatening to fall off that precipice, before he pulls himself away, leaving you with nothing.

It’s fucking maddening, and Steven just watches, squeezing at his thick cock as it aches between his legs.

“Please, Steven,” you whine, high pitched and needy. “Need you to let me cum, fuck, please let me cum.” You sound so pitiful, so desperate, that Steven’s eyes soften at your begging.

“Oh, I know, love,” he murmurs, sliding a thick finger up the seam of your cunt. “Need it so bad, yeah? It’s okay, darling, I’ll let you cum,”

You nearly sob with relief when he leans back down and sucks your clit into his mouth, sinking two fingers into your entrance. He’s relentless, playing with your clit with his tongue, nudging the tips of his fingers into a little spot inside of you that makes you want to cry. Your orgasm surges back up inside you without warning, and you can’t fucking breathe.

You brace yourself for him to do it again, to pull away when you start babbling, “Gonna cum, fuck, please let me cum,” between heaving moans. But Steven doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow down, and you start to smile with the fact that he’s actually going to let you have it this time without pulling away.

Except, he does pull away.

You cry out as Steven’s head shoots up from between your legs again, but you can only watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head, his jaw clenched.

Marc looks up at you from his place between your thighs, a cocky little smirk playing at his lips.

“Oh baby,” he says, and his voice is gruff, dark, so unlike Steven’s. “You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” You gasp for air as Marc sinks a third finger into you, and he grins.

“So pretty when you’re almost fucking there, sweetheart,” Marc murmurs, and he leans close to brush his lips against yours in a whisper of a kiss. “Whining, pleading for us to just let you cum. Steven was going to let it happen, put an end to your misery, but me?” He fucks his hand into you so hard that you choke on a moan. “I like seeing you squirm.”

And the process starts over again.

Marc fucks you on his fingers without a hint of remorse, driving into your g-spot in violent, debilitating thrusts that have you reeling.

You get so close so many fucking times, over and over and over again, your body drawn tight with the overwhelming need to cum. You beg, plead, gripping the bedsheets so hard that you fear you might tear them. But Marc. Doesn’t. Stop.

Every time he feels it, that tell-tale tightening of your body, hears the way you start to go quiet as you focus on finally falling over that precipice, he pulls his hand out of you without any finesse, any mercy.

Around the third time he does it, you really do start to cry, sobbing for Marc to finally let you cum, that you need it so bad it hurts.

“Can’t- it’s too much, Marc, please, please let me, need it so ba-ad,” you hiccup through your moans, tears bubbling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.

Marc leans down and kisses them away, cooing at you as he grinds the calloused tips of his fingers into the most sensitive parts of your cunt.

“Okay, sweet girl, I’ve got you, come on,” he murmurs, his thumb coming up to press against your clit, grinding little circles into it and sending you fucking flying. “Don’t cry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank-” you’re in the middle of thanking him, practically tasting your orgasm on your desperate tongue, when Marc’s eyes roll back, and his hand rips away from your cunt.

“No,” you whine, choking on your tears as your body quakes beneath his, “no, no, please.” You’re practically hysterical, desperate for it after so fucking long, after Steven and Marc have shredded you apart.

“Princesa,” Jake grins down above you, unmistakable with his dark gaze and a smile that is purely fucking primal, feral. “If you think you’re going to cum on anything but my cock, you’re wrong.”

And you can only gasp at Jake notches the thick, leaking head of his cock against your gaping entrance, and shoves himself in to the hilt.

You scream, your back bending into an obscene arch as he fills you up so perfectly.

“Jake, Jake,” you sob through labored breaths, “I can’t, it’s been, I don’t know how long it’s been, please, please. I need to cum, fuck, ‘m begging.”

“Oh, my beautiful girl,” Jake croons, “Of course you can.”

Of course you can. Like you’ve had permission all along, like it was that easy. Like you haven’t been broken apart by each of them, over and over again, reduced to a sobbing, shaking mess beneath their body.

He’s only one, two thrusts in, but you’re coming anyway, screaming with it as tears flow down your cheeks. Your entire body locks up with it, your cunt squeezing tight around Jake’s cock in rhythmic pulses that have him clutching painfully at your hips. Sweet, sweet relief fills your body, like water in a desert, the sun after a hurricane. It’s fucking bliss, incomparable, absolutely debilitating.

“Mierda, that’s fucking beautiful, fuck,” Jake growls, and he presses into your body so deep you think you can feel it in your stomach, and pumps you full of his cum. “Good girl,” you hear him mutter, “Good fucking girl,” before darkness grows into the edges of your vision and quickly swallowing it whole, leaving you to fall into pitch black oblivion.

When you finally come back to yourself, you feel warm, safe. It’s no surprise to you, since you usually feel that way in this flat, in this bed.

“I didn’t fucking kill her, Steven,” you hear Jake growl. “She’s breathing just fine. And don’t act innocent, you and I both know that you worked her just as hard as Marc and I did.”

“And you all better pamper me,” you croak, still refusing to open your eyes, “As soon as I take a nap.”

“Hermosa,” you hear Jake breathe, and you feel his lips press to your forehead. You crack open your eyes to meet Jake’s gaze, his eyes wide and more worried than he usually lets on. “Are you alright? You- you passed out.” he asks, and you giggle.

“Never been better,” you murmur. “But any of you try that shit again, it’s no sex for a fucking year.”

Jake grins in that roguish way that makes your heart flutter. "As if you could resist any of us for that long, mi vida."