#i suck at writing fight scenes no one come for me please and thank you<3
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northern attitude
geyser (where hurricane is introduced)
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader
summary: you and luke meet for the first time. (or luke saves you from a monster, you argue with each other the whole time, and he realizes that he doesn't want to survive alone anymore.)
a/n: by popular demand, hurricane is back for a sequel! and potentially more. lol. enjoy some insight into her (justice for weird little girls) and try not to think about the fact that she dies 6 years later! title comes from new england king noah kahan for these new england icons
wc: 4.6k
warning(s): some inner luke angst, monster encounter and short fight (luke gets a bit injured), they argue but in the fun way. they're just lil nine year olds
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Luke muttered.
He didn’t get an answer back. He was, after all, talking to a fish.
Maybe it didn’t like that he was a criminal. Luke had snuck his way into the New England Aquarium—he wasn’t going to cough up twenty-five bucks to look at marine life—in desperate need of a reprieve from the city, and he fought the urge to check his back every second. If there was one thing he’d learned from being on his own, it was that kids traveling alone always attracted attention. The last thing he needed was attention.
Talking to a fish probably wasn’t good for that, but Luke wasn’t exactly in the best headstate.
Because honestly, he didn’t really know what he was doing in Massachusetts. He tried staying in Connecticut after running away, but it still felt too close to home. He could still hear his mom yelling, could still see her glowing eyes. So he bought the cheapest bus ticket he could find to Boston, hoping a state in between would help.
That was the second thing he’d learned while traveling on the road: everything was way too expensive. And for a kid with no job living off the allowance he’d saved up and some extra money he took out of his mom’s wallet, that wasn’t great. If Luke couldn’t get something dirt cheap, he stole it. His father may not have answered any of his prayers in the past few years, but at least he had naturally quick fingers.
Luke sighed as he turned away from the fish, who was clearly not interested in striking up a conversation. He weaved his way through the crowd as he tried to think of where to go next—it wasn’t the smartest decision, but he was tempted to get a little whale plush from the gift stop—when he heard the middle of a conversation.
“You made a mistake coming here, dearie.”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Luke froze in place. He couldn’t even murmur an apology to the people who bumped into him because the gears in his head were turning rapidly.
“Let go of me—” a voice protested in response.
“Quieting down would do you some good. Did your mother not teach you manners?”
He was still trying to see who it was when he finally found it. A middle-aged woman moved through the crowd with a girl around Luke’s age, her hand wrapped tightly around the girl’s arm. Her nails were more like claws, and she had a strange gait that she tried to cover up. That was when he knew.
See, Luke had gotten used to distinguishing creeps from freaks with all his time on the road. Cutting a monster down would turn them into dust—normal humans would call the police. And if there was anything more dangerous for a runaway juvenile than monsters, it was the police.
But if a monster had ignored every single person in this building to get to you, it meant he’d somehow stumbled his way into the path of another half-blood. And Luke wasn’t going to let another half-blood die right in front of him.
So he took a deep breath, hoped the five second plan he made up in his head would work, and moved in.
“May, where have you been?” Luke tried to put on his best brother voice, and made himself as imposing as a nine year old could be. He didn’t focus at all on the monster, instead communicating to trust him as much as he could with his eyes. “Mom’s been worried sick!”
Both you and the woman turned to look at him, and Luke immediately knew he made the right choice from the blatant fear in your expression.
“Sorry,” you said, letting your shoulders fall and your gaze drop to the ground. Luke tried not to let his relief show over you playing along. “I really wanted to look at the sea turtle—”
“You should’ve said something instead of just wandering off,” he insisted. “We can all go look at it together—once Mom is done lecturing you, at least.” Luke took your hand and you let him pull you over to his side, positioning himself in front of you ever so slightly as he looked up at the woman. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her. I appreciate it.”
“You should be more careful,” she said eerily. It felt as if she was staring right into his soul. “You never know the kind of things that are out there.”
“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “Sisters, am I right?”
As soon as they were out of hearing distance, he lowered his voice and tightened his grip on your hand. “Come on. Try and look casual.”
“You know what she is,” you whispered.
“Yes,” he said, then he shook his head. “I— not exactly. But I know she’s a monster.”
“I knew it,” you muttered with vindication. Luke felt your eyes on him. “So you’re like me?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“One of your parents is—” You stopped, as if you still weren’t sure.
Luke knew the feeling all too well—desperately trying to tell someone what he was only to be met with that look adults loved to give. You’re clearly talking nonsense, but I feel bad for you so I’ll humor you. And all the normal kids he’d tried to tell the truth to thought he was just playing a game.
“A god,” he finished quietly. “Yeah.”
You started to look back, but Luke stopped you.
“Don’t.” Their chances of getting attacked in a place so full of people was lower, but Luke had dealt with some particularly bold monsters. One able to disguise themself as a human would have an advantage—Luke learned people hated listening to kids, especially ones they could pass off as delusional. “You don’t want her to catch on.”
“Who are you?” you asked.
“My name’s Luke,” he said. “What about you?”
You said your name, then you glanced at him. “You know a lot about all of this. More than me.”
“Are you a runaway too?”
You nodded, and a part of his heart broke. You had no right to be out here, not when you were so young.
And he says so, too. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own. It’s dangerous.”
You frowned. “You’re out here on your own too.”
“I’ve been on my own for a few months,” he said. “I know what to expect. How long have you been out?”
You shrugged. “A week.”
Luke let out a ragged sigh. “You’ve got bad luck if monsters are already coming after you.”
“They already have,” you murmured, and you looked back at him. “How old are you if you’ve been doing this for months?”
Luke frowned. “Nine. How old are you?”
“I’m also nine,” you shot back. “So you can’t say anything to me.”
He opened his mouth to retort—Luke hadn’t been a child in years, not since Hermes left him alone with a cursed mother and a burning rage inside of him that he couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard he tried. But if you chose to run away from home too, then you were in the same boat. Kids like you two didn’t get to be kids.
“Fair,” he conceded. “But it’ll be a lot easier to give her the slip if we work together.”
“…I can deal with that.” You cleared your throat. “Thank you for saving me, though. I… I just froze.”
“It happens more than you’d think,” Luke muttered. “We have to throw her off our trail, though. She’s not gonna be happy.”
“She’s probably ecstatic,” you said, shaking your head. “She’s got two kids to eat instead of one.”
“Aren’t you an optimist?” he remarked.
You chuckled. “Sorry. It hasn’t been a great day.”
“It’s fine.” Luke didn’t know the last great—god, even good—day he’d had, even before he ran away. Honestly, this conversation with you had been the highlight of this month. “But we can’t just leave. She has our scent, so she’ll be on us as soon as we’re on our own. It’ll be even easier out in the open. We’ve gotta set security on her trail to get her off ours.”
You nodded as you turned another corner. “We should get to the gift shop. It’ll be less populated, but still enough to hide us.”
Luke nodded. “Smart. And security’ll have an easy path there in case of shoplifters.”
“So tell a sob story, get security, set them on her,” you said, looking at him.
“Then get the hell out of here,” he agreed.
“Think we can get a souvenir for the occasion?” you asked. “We’ve probably earned it with all this dodging.”
Luke thought about that whale plushie again. “Maybe.”
“The stairs are that way.” You gestured with your head, and Luke turned—he’d been going the completely wrong direction.
“Thanks,” he said. “You know this place?”
“I’m from Boston,” you nodded. “And I’ve been here a lot with my mom.”
Luke figured he should have guessed by the accent. He didn’t know how long he was going to stay, but it would be useful to have someone with him who knew the city.
“You’re still pretty close to home,” he noted.
You shrugged. “I’ve been doing all the things I’ve wanted to do now that I’m officially on my own. I know I’m gonna have to leave eventually, but…” you sighed and shook your head. “I guess I’m scared. Brave enough to run away but too scared to make it official.”
Luke understood that more than you could know. It took him feeling like he was going to burst out of his skin before he got the strength to leave Connecticut.
“You don’t wanna leave your mom,” he guessed.
You nodded. “I love her more than anything, but I’ve already put her in too much danger. I’m leaving until I can figure out how to keep her safe.”
You’re a kid, Luke wanted to say. It should be the other way around. But he’d already been hypocritical enough for today, and you’d probably say the same.
“That’s sweet,” he said. “Stupid, but sweet.”
“We’re both nine-year-old runaways,” you said. “You don’t get to tell me what’s stupid.”
He chuckled and shook his head, letting the matter drop as you finally got to the gift shop. Luke had been stressed about how to strike a balance between cautious enough to keep your backs covered but confident enough to not be questioned, but it turned out talking with you was all he needed.
On the way to the front, Luke caught sight of a whale plushie. His fingers itched to grab it, but he kept his eyes on the better prize of not dying and came to a stop at the cash register.
“Hi,” Luke said, getting the attention of the employee at the front, hoping he sounded adequately fearful. “There’s a woman out there that tried to get my friend to go with her. Tall, middle-aged, dressed in grandmother-y clothes with glasses. She grabbed her arm and threatened her.”
“You kids aren’t joking around, are you?” the cashier asked.
“No,” you said, and Luke was shocked by how close to tears you sounded. “It was really scary— my parents were in the bathroom and I was waiting for them, and she just looked so nice, but—” somehow, a tear actually fell from your eye as you let out a sob— “but she tried to take me away.”
The woman shook her head as she went back and grabbed a walkie talkie from below the register. The moment she turned away, you glanced at Luke and nodded, and he just stared in awe. She relayed Luke’s description then said a couple other things, then she crouched down to be on their level to look you straight-on. “Where are your parents?”
“They’re in the bathroom on the second floor,” you provided. “We came here because we didn’t know where else to go.”
She sighed, falling for every part of it. You were much better at garnering sympathy than Luke was. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I called our security— they’ll be here in a second to get a statement from you.”
You nodded, sniffling a bit as your lip quivered. “Thank you. I— I just want my mom.”
The employee put her hand to her heart, and when you went for a hug, she reciprocated. “Don’t cry. You’re gonna be safe, okay? I’ll wait with you until security gets here. One of our guards is already out there looking for her.”
“Okay,” you agreed. Luke caught your eye from behind her back, and you dropped your act in a second to smile knowingly at him. He just shook his head with a slight smile of his own—you were good at this.
Eventually, two security guards arrived—Luke doubted they would be good for handling a shoplifter, much less a mythological monster—but they took yours and Luke’s statements, and were about to leave before you spoke up.
“Our parents are definitely looking for us,” you said, already back on the verge of tears. “Can— can you take us to them? When they went to the bathroom, we were by the coral reef.”
“‘Course.” One of them nodded and looked at his partner. “I’ll get them back to their parents—you look for the suspect.”
After a short discussion, the three of you set out, you still holding Luke’s hand as he leaned closer to you.
“On my signal,” he murmured. “We’re gonna blend into the crowd and get out of here.”
You nodded. You were so close to the exit, but you allowed the guard to take you up the stairs, and thankfully the crowd around the middle of the giant ocean tank was huge. Luke counted off quietly, and when he got to three, you split off, blending into a group of kids on a school field trip to get back to the stairs.
You started moving at a much quicker pace, the exit within your sights, but just as they were about to make it, Luke spotted their monster. And now, she was definitely a monster—Luke couldn’t remember the name, but she’d shed her disguise, looking like some kind of bird-human hybrid thing. It didn’t really matter in his opinion, because she really looked like she wanted to kill the two of you.
Luke cursed and grabbed your arm, immediately pulling you flat up against the wall with him. “She’s here.”
“We told security about her,” you protested. “How hard could it be to find her?”
“A bit harder when they’re gonna be seeing something different.” Luke glanced at you. “You said you’ve already dealt with monsters before.”
You nodded.
“Do you remember feeling like you were the only one who actually saw what was happening? Like you saw the monster for what it was while it was trying to kill you, and everyone was still freaking out, but not as much as they should have been?”
You nodded again.
“Well, that’s a thing. Normal people can’t see what monsters really look like—only we can.” Luke peeked his head around the corner again. “And if she’s shed her disguise, it means she wants to go in for the kill. And it means we’re completely on our own.”
“We’re not on our own,” you said. “We’ve got each other.”
Luke found himself smiling. It had been a while since that was true. It had been a while since he’d smiled.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “And it’s harder to kill two half-bloods than one.”
He poked his head out again and immediately withdrew it, cursing under his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. “I never should have come to this city.”
“Excuse me?” You stepped away from the wall as your brows furrowed. “Boston is the greatest city in the world.”
“If you’re gonna be wrong, be wrong quietly,” Luke urged, gesturing with his head for you to get back. “And you are wrong, by the way.”
“I’m not wrong.” You crossed your arms, refusing to budge. “Did you know that we have the first public park? And the first public school! And we have the T! Where are you even from?”
“We can talk about this later,” he insisted. “We’re trying to hide. Have you ever hidden before?”
“We don’t need to hide when you’ve insulted my Commonwealth’s honor,” you said. “Especially when you’re in our aquarium. Where are you from to be talking so badly about the Bay State?”
“Connecticut,” he finally said, hoping that would get you to finally quiet down, but that only ramped you up further. “Place called Westport.”
“Connecticut?” you marveled, throwing your hands up. “You’re from some podunk town in Connecticut and you’re insulting Boston?”
“Okay, Westport is not a podunk town—” Luke started, but he didn’t get the chance to finish defending his hometown before he caught sight of their monster—and she’d caught sight of them.
Luke cursed even harder under his breath with words no nine year old should have known, then he grabbed your hand and pulled you along into a jog, interrupting your immediate protests.
“She’s got us pinned,” he said, trying to keep his voice low enough to not be detected while making sure you could hear him. “Together, our scent is too strong. We’re not gonna be able to lose her—we’ve gotta kill her.”
“Could the fish help with her knowing where we are?” you asked as you started running with him. “Because they’ll be happy to help us. They don’t like her either.”
Luke did a double take. “What?”
“I can hear what they’re saying,” you said, as if it were completely normal. “It’s a little overwhelming with so many in one place, honestly.”
If they weren’t on the run from a monster, Luke would have worried a bit more about the fact that you were crazy. But he wasn’t awarded those kinds of luxuries these days.
“We’ll—” Luke let out a sigh, because what did you mean that you could hear what fish were saying (especially because they clearly weren’t conversation prone)— “we’ll get out of here, and get the upper hand, and we’ll kill her. Okay?”
“Okay,” you nodded. “But Boston is still the greatest city in the world.”
He huffed, taking his eyes off the path forward for a moment just to look at you. “Are you seriously still on this?”
“Of course. We also have the greatest baseball team in the country.” You gestured with your free hand. “Do you see how many people here have Red Sox hats on?”
Luke laughed out of pure shock. Was this the kind of stuff he’d been missing out on while traveling alone?
“Listen,” he said. “If we get out of this alive, you can tell me all the Red Sox facts you want. But we actually have to work together through all this. Deal?”
“Deal,” you said immediately. “You’re way more focused than I am.”
Luke let out a loose breath and shook his head. “Well, I’ve had to be. Do you have a weapon?”
“I took a kitchen knife before I left,” you said, “just to be safe. It’s worked pretty well.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
“I’m really good at chopping vegetables,” you said. “And I killed a monster with it the other day.”
“Glowing reviews,” Luke chuckled. “I’m pretty good with my sword, so we should be okay.”
“You’ve got a sword? How?”
“...My dad left it for me before he left,” Luke said. “I guess he wanted to do one good thing for me in his life.”
“I’m sorry,” you said. Luke offered a tight smile.
“Doesn’t matter much anymore,” he said. “Soon as we get outside, we get to the street and get to some empty alley. We hide on either side, wait for her to find us, then take her down. Okay?”
You nodded resolutely. “Let’s do it.”
The beginning of the plan wasn’t too difficult. Your faces would probably be plastered all over the place once the staff realized you were missing, but that was a problem for another day. You knew the area well so you took charge—and you took the time to spout random facts about the city on your way, of course, like a nine-year-old tour guide—and soon enough they were indeed in an empty alleyway.
You and Luke stood on each side, weapons in your grasp now that you weren’t surrounded by a whole aquarium of people, and he watched as you stared straight ahead, trying to keep your breathing steady. Besides the whole hearing fish thing, you seemed pretty well-adjusted for where you were.
But then again—you’d only been at this for a week, and the way you talked about your mom, your home life was the complete opposite of his.
Luke shook his head. It didn’t matter what your life was like—you both ended up in the same place.
His thoughts were mercifully ended when Luke heard sharp nails scratching against the brick of the alleyway. He grimaced, his grip tightening on his sword, and he looked over at you. Your eyes were slightly wide, but you nodded when he did. You were ready.
“You two are clever,” the monster sang, her voice just as grating as her nails against the wall, “but I never miss a meal. And those measly workers just wouldn’t sate my appetite.”
Her steps got closer and closer, and Luke held his breath. Right before she would be able to see you both, he yelled, “Now!”
You were out first, immediately lashing at her with your knife. She took the cut against her shoulder and slashed at you in turn, but you dodged out of the way, giving Luke a chance to come in with his sword. But his angle was off, and she deflected the blow then sunk her claws into his arm. Luke cried out, landing a kick on her chest as he ripped himself out of her grasp, but her focus was already back on you.
You stabbed at her with your knife and actually landed it in her chest, but it wasn’t Celestial bronze—all it did was make her angrier. She screeched and tackled you to the ground, knife still sticking out of her, claws poised to rip your throat out. You grit your teeth as you wrestled her arms away from you, but your strength was fading fast.
Luke’s eyes widened and he grabbed his sword from the ground. He wouldn’t make it in time, but you could.
He called out your name and threw his sword, and you didn’t even have to look to snatch it out of the air. Storms raged in your eyes as you stabbed the monster through the side.
“You shouldn’t have come here, dearie,” you spat.
The monster’s scream dissolved with the wind as she exploded into dust, dousing you in yellow powder. The sword fell out of your grip as you coughed, and you just laid on the ground, drained.
“Gross,” you grumbled.
Luke wiped his hand across his forehead as he fought to catch his breath, ignoring the blood seeping down his arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you said between coughs. “I’m great.”
Luke went over and offered his hand, and he pulled you up after you took it. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m a little rusty.”
“Neither of us are dead, are we? I’d say it went pretty well.” You grimaced as you wiped the powder off your face, groaning again. “This is gonna take forever to get off.”
Luke chuckled as he took his backpack off and took out a towel, which you accepted gratefully. A demigod always had to be prepared. “You say you’ve only been on your own for a week?”
You nodded as you started cleaning your face and arms off. “Not my first monster, though.”
“It never is,” he murmured. Luke tipped his head back towards the sun and closed his eyes, letting out one final, long breath as the buzz from battle started to fade. And along with that, his adrenaline—the wound on his arm began to sting, and he sighed. He really didn’t feel like dealing with that.
“You’re hurt,” you said, and Luke opened his eyes.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “They’re surface level.”
You frowned. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve stitched myself up a few times, and this doesn’t need them,” he said, his lip curling at the memory. He was not a very good doctor. “I have some first aid stuff in my bag—once we get out of here, I’ll fix it up.”
“You said we,” you said.
Luke blinked. “I did?”
You nodded. “When we get out of here.”
He blinked again. He didn’t even notice—didn’t even really think about where you would go after the monster was dead. It was kinda sad, but Luke was pretty sure he’d smiled and talked more in this one hour with you than the past few months on his own. He’d already started thinking of you and him as a collective.
“What d’you think, then?” he asked. “You wanna stick together?”
You frowned. “You’re willing to kick it with a girl you just met?”
He shrugged. “You fight well, obviously. And you’re way better at making people feel bad for you than I am. That’s useful when you’ve got nothing.”
“We’re kids on our own,” you said. “It’s not that hard to get pity points.”
“I’ve been told I’m… abrasive,” Luke said. “Besides, I like you already. You were arguing for your baseball team while running for your life. It’s annoying, but impressive.”
“People also say that about me,” you said sagely. Luke smiled and held out his hand more.
“So? You wanna join forces?”
You stared at it for a while. “Even if I spend the next couple of hours telling you all about the Red Sox?”
Luke chuckled. “I did say you could if we got out of this alive. And I feel pretty alive.”
It took you another second, but you nodded intently and shook his hand. “Then you’ve got yourself a deal, Luke.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said, his smile widening.
You handed him the towel and he went to put it back in his bag when he saw the… souvenir he’d taken before you left the gift shop. He grabbed the whale plushie that had been on his mind all day and held it out to you. “Here.”
You frowned. “When did you even have the time to get this? You definitely didn’t pay for it.”
“Idle hands are the devil’s playthings,” he said. “They won’t miss it. It’s a much better use marking the start of our friendship. Besides,” Luke shrugged, “you did say you wanted a souvenir.”
You smiled as you took it. “Looks like we’re a trio, then.”
“Welcome to the team,” he said with a grin. “It’s a small one, but I think we’ll make it work.”
“Me too,” you nodded. “And it’ll be nice not being alone.”
Luke thought back to all the nights spent sleeping under bridges, commandeering benches, purposefully choosing overnight buses so he would have somewhere to rest. Constantly watching his back because he had no one else, wondering if each night he camped in the woods would be his last.
He looked at you, a girl who ran away from home because she didn’t want to hurt her mom. Your clothes were covered in yellow monster dust, sweat dripped down your forehead, and Luke had nearly gotten you killed—but you were still smiling. And he found himself smiling too.
“Yeah,” Luke murmured. “It will be.”
#i suck at writing fight scenes no one come for me please and thank you<3#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fic#luke castellan angst#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#pjo x reader#x reader#daughter of poseidon#child of poseidon#sadie writes#ialwbty
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Double Tap
House We Share: Double Tap, Sfumato, Good Comes In 3
Summary: You were hesitant when your friends told you about their other friend who needed a roommate. Living with a man, let alone a Naval aviator, isn't your ideal living situation. However, you are desperate to get out of your current house. So, you will have to suck it up and make a deal with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Now you just wish he would stop doing things that make you fall in love with him.
Pairings: Jake "Hangman Seresin x Fem! Civilian! Reader, minor Javy "Coyote" Machado x OC
Word count: 19k
AO3 LINK
Warnings: Abuse (Implied and mentioned), confrontation with Abuser, Child abuse (mentioned), Slow burn, Implied calorie counting, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles, taxes, Neurodivergent coded! Hangman, Fiscally responsible!Hangman, Protective!Hangman. Please let me know if I missed any for this part, I know it is a long one.
Authors Note: This got so completely out of hand. It started as one scene and then grew a mind of its own. Part two is written, just not edited, I'm planning on having that done later this week. Hangman Coyote BFF supremacy. I apologize for writing the most hyper-specific!Jake you have probably ever read. 85% of his personality is just things I find attractive in men.
Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.
You had been at your friend Marlee's house for almost an hour before she couldn't stop herself from confronting you. She had at least let you get settled and offered you a drink while pretending to be distracted by the lasagna she was making. She had spun towards you expectantly when it was in the oven, having reached her limit on waiting.
"What happened?" Marlee asks.
"It's nothing." You respond.
"It is something. I don't want to reread your texts back to you, babes."
"Marls," you sigh, briefly closing your eyes, trying to fight the exhaustion you feel.
"You can't live there anymore. We need to get you out."
"Yeah, let me just move and find a place to live. It's not that easy, Marlee."
She sighs heavily. "I know, babes, but at least stay here with Javy and me. If he touches you like that again."
"It was just a one-time thing," you quickly cut her off. But, from the pitying look in her eyes, she knows it hasn't been just this one time.
"If something happened."
"Nothing is going to happen." Marlee was too bright and too good of a friend. She knew something had already happened, and she knew things had been happening. Her frown and eyebrow raise say it all.
"I can't just crash here," you say.
"You are always, always welcome."
"You are," a voice pops up, and you both look over to the couch. You thought Marlee's husband, Javy, was thoroughly invested in the game he was playing on his Xbox, but it turns out he had an ear on your conversation.
It wasn't something that bothered you. You loved Javy, he had been an excellent partner to Marlee, and you considered him a friend. He was fun and easygoing, something you hadn't expected from a Navy man. You also weren't bothered because everyone knew they were the type of couple that told each other absolutely everything. So, Javy would have found out one way or another.
"I know that. Thanks, you two." You tell them, trying to get them off your back.
"Marlee is right. We can't have anything happening to you."
"Nothing is going to happen to me, Javy," you say, now trying to reassure them and stop this unnecessary worrying.
"You know. I have a friend who has actually been looking for a roommate." Javy says.
"You do?" you ask, surprised you hadn't heard about this sooner.
"Yeah, I mean, he can be a lot. But he is a good guy and a great roommate."
"Who ?" Marlee cuts in.
"Jake."
"Hangman?"
"Yeah, Hangman." The two of them stare at each other, and you can see that they are having one of those conversations of glances and small expressions you weren't entirely privy to understanding.
Marlee then shrugs, nodding, and looks back at you, "It would be a nice safe place."
"I mean, it's an option and would be a nicer place to stay than anything else you'll find. Plus, someone who is not a total stranger as a roommate." Javy tells you. He pulls off his headset and makes his way to the kitchen. He sets his hand on your shoulder and gives you a kind smile.
"I'm not sure about living with a man."
"If you don't want to live with Jake or you aren't interested, we will find somewhere else. Or you stay here with us, but you can't stay there anymore." The seriousness behind Javy's smile isn't lost on you. So you start to slowly nod.
"I guess I could at least chat with your friend if y'all think it's a decent option."
"Yeah, for sure," Javy said with a grin. "I'll ask him about it, then maybe y'all can meet this weekend. We are still having a big bonfire on the beach. I'm sure he will be there."
"Oh, I wasn't planning on going to the bonfire." You start to say, which makes both Javy and Marlee frown.
"Why aren't you coming to the bonfire?"
You tried to think of a valid excuse beyond that being in open public spaces was terrifying to you right now. An excuse past the fact that you knew your bruises wouldn't be gone by Saturday.
"I've just been stressed about finding a place to live, you know." You gave them both a weak smile, but neither of your friends seemed appeased.
"Well, now you have a reason to come," Marlee says.
"Yeah, exactly, and I'll talk to Jake." Javy presses a kiss to your forehead and then a lingering one to Marlee's lips. He returns to the couch, but not before looking at you seriously. "You know if you ever need anything, you call us?"
"Sir, yes sir," you tell him with a laugh, making Marlee giggle too.
Even with Javy's reassurances, you are unsure about this whole idea. However, whoever this friend Jake is, you know he had to be better than your current living situation. After dinner, Marlee and Javy both reiterate their feelings on the whole issue before you leave their house. You did your best to wave them off and tell them you would see them in a few days.
When Saturday rolls around, you head to the pin Marlee sent you for the bonfire. You are thankful it is a cooler day and will only be colder once the sun sets. It allows you to not look so out of place in your conservative clothes, ensuring all your bruises are covered.
You arrive purposefully late and park far from the beach. By the time you make it to the group of people, you have sufficiently hyped yourself up to interact with the others. You decide to ease yourself into the party. You walk around the different coolers, opening them and investigating the available drink options.
You are in the middle of shuffling through one when you hear a voice behind you.
"Anything specific I can help you find, sweetheart?" You turn around and are met with one of the most attractive men you have ever met. He is tall, with dirty blonde hair and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose.
"I'm just browsing," You tell the man with a shrug, proud of yourself for being able to put together a sentence.
"I think I know what would be perfect for you, sweetheart.
"Oh really?"
"Yeah," He says, flashing you a grin. His smile makes something in your stomach swoop a tiny bit.
"And, what would that be?" you say, raising an eyebrow.
"Me, of course."
You can't help the shocked laugh that falls out of your throat. Which just makes his handsome smile widen.
"I was thinking something a bit stronger, actually."
"I know I look like a tall glass of water but let me tell you, I won't disappoint you."
"Well, looks certainly can be deceptive."
"That's true. Are you really as sweet as you look?"
Before you can answer, you hear Javy's voice to your right. "Oh good, you two already met."
You turn your head to see Javy jogging over. He stops next to you with a smile on his face. You process his words and feel your stomach drop. The incredibly handsome man you were trying to flirt with was Javy's friend. Javy's friend he thought you could live with.
"There haven't been any formal introductions," you say.
"Jake Seresin," he says. He sticks out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. You take his hand, give it a firm shake, and share your name. He repeated it softly, giving your hand an extra squeeze before letting go.
"Javy said you are looking to move," Jake says casually. Your voice seems stuck in your throat. You examine Jake's handsome face again and know you can't do this.
"Yeah, she is. Soon, too." Javy says after you haven't said anything leaving an awkward pause.
"I have lots of space."
"Oh well, you know." You say, trying to figure out what to say by saying nothing at all. Jake nods along with you, but his eyebrows pull close together while his eyes narrow.
"Plus, Jake is really clean," Javy adds.
"That is good to know. Maybe Jake and I can talk about it later?" You say, giving both of them a smile. You turn back to the coolers and grab the first drink you see.
"Yeah, we can talk about it later. Javy owes me a spike ball game anyways," Jake says. He flashes you another smile while grabbing a High Noon out of the cooler, gesturing for Javy to do the same. You leave them to find Marlee and chat with some other people at the party.
You are considering how to best say goodbye and leave the party while sitting next to the fire later. You stare into the flames hoping they might provide you answers.
"You would actually be doing me a huge favor by moving in, "Jake says to you casually. You are startled by his sudden presence, and you look over at him, quirking an eyebrow in response.
"Oh really?"
"Yeah. I haven't had a roommate for a while, and I would prefer someone who isn't in the military. I don't want to bring work and ranks home. You know?"
"Oh yeah, sure, that makes sense," you say, following his line of logic.
"Also, rent these days is," Jake doesn't finish the sentence, instead just whistling quietly.
"Yeah, rent is expensive," you laugh. You find it much easier to talk to Jake if you don't have to look directly out at him.
"You don't have to let me know right now, but I don't have any issues with it."
"We haven't talked about it much," you tell him, surprised he had decided so quickly.
"There is this saying that beggars can't be choosers."
"I would want a roommate contract. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, that would be fine by me, Sugar."
"Okay, cool, but we should think about it."
"Tonight is a party, and we are supposed to be having fun. Not doing business. So, why don't you text me, and we will hash out the details this week. Plus you can see the place, which you would probably want. Maybe you could move in next weekend if we can work it all out?"
Part of you thought you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, so you decided to text Jake throughout the week to hash out the details. And the next thing you know, Javy, Marlee, and Jake are helping you move your stuff.
Living with Jake wasn't as hard as you worried it would be. In fact, it was much easier than you were anticipating. Jake led his life with strict regiment and routine. It was something that stretched beyond that he was in the military.
Jake would wake up in the mornings and go on a run before coming home, making breakfast, showering, and going to work. Then he would come home, change and go to the gym, come home, shower again because he needed to, and then eat dinner. Every night if you were home while he was cooking, Jake would always offer you some. That leads you to find out he is a phenomenal chef.
Then Jake would read in the large armchair in the living room and half-watch whatever you put on the TV to watch yourself. He only requested to use the TV when one of his sports teams was playing or on Wednesday nights, where he would spend an hour and a half playing Animal Crossing with his niece while they facetime.
You had told Jake that the TV was his, and he didn't have to ask you to use it. Jake just laughed and shrugged before telling you he wasn't the biggest TV guy. Jake had been telling the truth when he said that. You realized that Jake was more interested in his books. If he wasn't reading a book, he sat silently with one of his sudoku puzzles and country music playing on vinyl. Then Jake would go to bed after whatever chores he deemed he should do.
It was a strictly followed pattern, only differing on Fridays when he would sometimes go out to a bar with the guys or sometimes Saturdays. However, even on the weekends, he would follow the schedule closely. Regardless if he had gone to the bar, he would still wake up outrageously early in the morning, work out, do chores, and then go to the gym again. Sometimes Jake would venture out of the house to see his friends, but more often than not, he was reading or in the workshop in the garage with some project.
Marlee had not prepared you for how amazingly hot Jake was. When you moved in, he had been very polite, if a bit curt. Never venturing to flirt with you again like when you first met. As the weeks living with Jake passed, though, he definitely warmed up to you. But still never pushed the roommate line between you.
You worked hard to push your attraction for Jake to the side or shove it into a safe in the back of your mind. That was a challenging task to accomplish because, just like Javy said, Jake was very clean. It wasn't that he was a clean freak per se, but he was definitely an orderly and well-kept person. Everything in the house had a place it belonged.
Jake always did his dishes and tidied up after himself in your common areas. He also never leaves any of his laundry waiting around. You had watched in a mix of awe and horror the first time he pulled out clothes from the dryer within five minutes of the machine going off. Then Jake started folding, halfway through the laundry, stoping to pull out an iron and ironing board.
The sight was all so attractive that you had to excuse yourself upstairs. That was something that you often had to do. Anytime you felt heat build in you towards your roommate, you would quickly excuse yourself. You knew giving into your attraction for Jake in any shape or form would not lead anywhere good. You needed a place to live, and this place you had with Jake was way too good to risk anything.
Given his career choice, it was not entirely surprising how regimented Jake is. However, what did surprise you was when he started to incorporate you into his routines in small ways. Jake would automatically set out an extra plate for you when cooking, and picks up snacks you like from the store. One day you come home and find a second shoe rack by the door just for you. On the days you had to be up for work, you would find that Jake had already put your morning drink together for you when he returned from the gym and was making his own breakfast. You like the steady rhythm and consistency that living with Hangman provides you. It's seamless and easy to fall into step with him.
You had been living with Jake for a few months, and things were going really well, almost too well you sometimes felt like it was too good to be true. Your nightmares weren't as frequent. You get full nights sleep and feel comfortable here with Jake. The only times you don't feel content are the times that you think about how hot Jake is. Or when Jake does something that makes it hard not to try and smash your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss.
Then one day, you get home from work, and worry suddenly sweeps over you as you glance at your phone and realize what time it is. The house is completely dark and quiet. Jake should have been home several hours ago and on his way to the gym already. In fact, right about now was when he should have been getting home from the gym.
You resist the urge to call Jake and check that he is okay. You know that action would be overstepping the roommate boundaries that exist clearly between you. You tell yourself it's silly to worry all because he wasn't following the schedule you made up for him in your head. It's not like Jake had ever written down his routine and given it to you. Maybe today was a special anniversary, or maybe he had after-work plans you didn't know about.
Your worry is eased about twenty minutes later when you hear Jake's truck pull into the driveway, followed by the garage door rumbling open. You find yourself easing further into the couch, some of the tension you weren't wholly conscious of easing out of your body.
Jake comes in, and you cut your eyes over to see him still in his flight suit. He doesn't say anything to you as he unlaces and kicks off his shoes. He passes you while walking to the stairs and manages a short but gruff hello. Then, without another word, he is gone. You stare after his back in shock. Something is definitely not right with Jake.
He left his shoes sprawled on the ground by the door. It was not a sight you had ever seen in the house, not even the times Jake had stumbled home drunk and giggly. Jake always pulled off his boots, neatly tucking the laces in and then setting them up on his small shoe rack by the door.
You get up from the couch and walk over to fix his shoes, tucking in the laces. You tell yourself it is so no one will trip over them, not for any other reason. Then you hear Jake's shower turn on, and the water runs much longer than the twenty-minute showers you are used to him taking. It all feels so odd and out of place. You decide to make some pasta for dinner, convinced Jake is planning on not eating at all with how far he is off his schedule.
You are just finishing dinner when the water in his bathroom finally shuts off. Then fifteen more minutes later, Jake comes downstairs in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a thread-bare Annapolis shirt. He appears to be looking around downstairs, almost a bit dazed and lost.
"I made dinner. How about you have some?" You call out to him from the kitchen. Jake follows your voice to the kitchen and looks at the food you have made and dishes up. Hesitantly he sits down at the table.
"If you don't mind."
"Of course not. I know this may shock you since you normally cook, but I can do it too."
"I've never thought that you couldn't cook." Jake quickly responds.
"I know, Jake. I'm just teasing you. Now eat up."
Jake follows orders and takes a bite of the pasta, letting out a small groan. "So good," he mumbles before taking another bite.
"Do you want the macros?" You ask him conversationally after eating in silence for a few minutes.
"Oh. No, thank you. I appreciate you making something and sharing. No need for you to put in extra work. I will be fine not tracking my macros for one meal," Jake says.
"Okay," you say and give him the kindest smile you can think of. You don't want to push him on why he isn't okay. However, you can't stop yourself from sliding the piece of paper you wrote the macros on across the table to him anyways.
Jake stares at the note card for a long moment and then looks up at you. It's not a look you have ever seen on your roommate's face before. You aren't entirely sure how to decipher the way his green sea-glass eyes are gleaming back at you. He folds the paper once before putting it in his pocket.
Jake clears his throat, and the edges of his lips quirk up. "Thank you."
"Of course, anytime, Jake," you say back. He puts away his plate a few minutes later after finishing his food. Then packs up the leftovers into some tupperware.
"I'm going to bed," Jake tells you. Jake doesn't even stop to grab the current book he is in the middle of from where it is placed next to his chair in the living room.
The moment Jake disappears up the stairs, you are frowning again, considering his behavior. It bugged you, something clearly was off, but you weren't in the position to ask him what it was. As you start to settle down for the evening, you notice that Jake had put it in the laundry basket next to the washer that morning. Seeing that you knew he originally had every intention of starting it before going to the gym that night something that never happened.
You briefly considered that maybe it isn't normal how you have memorized his routine, but also maybe that was just part of living with Jake. You didn't even think before you were throwing his laundry in the washer for him. You stay up to put the clothes in the dryer. Then you find yourself folding items and hanging some of them, not confident that you could iron them correctly. About halfway through the chore, you stop realizing just what you are doing but finish it out, imagining the look on Jake's face when he sees his laundry done. You are in too deep to back out at this point.
🏡🧩🏡
You knew it wasn't the best idea that morning when you had left to go pick up some of your remaining stuff and random mail from where you used to live. However, you didn't expect it to go as badly as it had. You were still shaking from the interaction you had when you got home. Every moment of the interaction repeats over and over in your head. You hazardously throw your keys into your little key bowl, not caring to notice Jake's there as well.
You were still trying to take calming breaths and push away the tears streaming down your face. Standing at the entrance to the living room frozen, you aren't sure if you are actually at home or back there with him.
You startle and jump, letting out a small shriek, hearing a sound in the kitchen. You turn slowly, shocked to see Jake staring at you dressed in his NWUs instead of his flight suit. You are equally surprised by the sight of him home in the middle of the day, in a uniform you rarely see him wear.
The adrenaline of being scared forces your brain into letting go of the nerves and panic you had barely been keeping in check. Tears spring freely from your eyes as you take gasping breaths. J ake sets down the knife he is holding and takes long strides across the room to quickly reach your side. His hands hover near you but don't actually touch.
"What's wrong?" Jake asks in a deep voice.
You just shake your head at him, unable to respond, instead focusing on getting air into your lungs.
"Can I touch you?" Jake asks then, and that does seem okay, so you jerkily nod your head yes.
First, his hands settle lightly on your shoulders. Once it seems like you are okay and comfortable with that. Jake goes a step further and wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You press your face into the material of his shirt. Your hands come up to bunch it slightly on his chest as you find purchase to clutch him closer.
He makes gentle shushing noises but otherwise doesn't say anything while holding you. He is so warm, and his arms feel strong around you. Jake's hold on you doesn't waiver once while you cry. Only relaxing slightly when your sniffles and crying start to level out and you let go of his shirt.
You take one more deep breath of him. Jake smells of a pleasant mix of his body wash, y'all's fabric softener, and his cologne. Letting the calming effect of the smell flood your system before letting go of your hold on him completely, only then does Jake let his arms slip away.
Pulling away from the hug, you shyly look to see Jake's face. You find that he is already looking at you. For one of the first times since you met him, you don't like how Jake's face looks. There is a soft and sad demeanor that you see in his eyes. His eyebrows crease and his lips are pressed into a flat line. You feel embarrassment and shame flood you. The way that you just broke down and cried on your roommate, fully processing in your muddled tired head.
"You're home," you eventually say, trying to break the ice and put a brave face back on.
"Yeah, I'm not flying today. So, I had the time to come home for lunch."
"Sorry to interrupt." You say, looking down to examine your feet.
"You didn't interrupt anything," Jake reassures you. He goes back to the kitchen, and you watch as he continues to cut ingredients for his salad.
"Do you want me to make you anything?" He asks.
"No, thank you. "You say not feeling even a little hungry.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Jake asks next.
"No, thank you," you say again and settle at the kitchen island to watch Jake cut the veggies and toss them in a big bowl.
"Okay," he says. You like that Jake doesn't push you for things. He respects the boundaries you set and doesn't even try to toe up against them.
"Am I allowed to know why you aren't flying today? I thought someone had broken in. Plus, I hardly recognize you out of a flight suit."
"You don't like these?" Jake asks, looking at the Navy camo print he is wearing as if this uniform suddenly offended him.
"I didn't say that," you tell him, giving a small laugh. Obviously, Jake could make anything look good, even things that shouldn't.
"Can't fly every day." He says with a shrug. "Also, I'm going through some maintenance stuff and checks with my sailors."
You hum, but otherwise, don't comment watching Jake wash the knife and cutting board he had been using then. Then, after he drys them and puts them away, he turns back to you.
"There isn't anything to be embarrassed about," he tries to venture lightly.
"You don't come home and cry on me," you say, frowning.
"You sure about that one?" He asks, shoving a mouthful of salad into his mouth.
"Pretty sure that I would remember such an occasion."
Jake just hums. One of those sounds that makes you feel like he doesn't actually agree. A few bites of his food later, he sets his bowl down. His green gaze is trialed on you, but then he glances at his watch, huffing in annoyance.
There is a slight caving feeling inside you. You feel bad. How much of Jake's lunch have you taken up? You had never actually seen him come home for lunch before, so he must not get a long time.
"I do all the time. Maybe just a bit less of the wet physical crying." Jake tells you, putting a container lid on his bowl.
"You could," you utter to him, a little embarrassed.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, wouldn't bother me if you ever needed to. You know. I'm here for you."
"Thank you, Darlin," Jake says. Then glances at his watch again. "I got ten minutes before I have to go. What would you like to do?"
"I'm fine," you tell him. "You should use that time to eat."
"I'll munch while I'm doing some paperwork later."
That was a lie. You knew that Jake would never eat around paperwork. However, it was the kind of lie that settles warmly. It was one of those lies born with good intentions and made to be soothing. You could never be upset that he is even trying to comfort you at his own expense.
"I don't want to talk about it, Jake." You reiterate again.
"I know, and you don't have to. I won't ask again. However, if you ever decide that you do. I'm here for you too. Always."
"Thank you, Jake. You're a really good roommate."
"I hope you can consider me a friend too?"
"Of course, we are friends too," you reassure him. Jake's lips quirk upwards, his dimples flashing upon hearing that.
"Now, I can't go back to work without seeing at least one smile."
"That's a pretty tall order."
"Well, they don't call me the best for nothing."
"Do they really call you the best or is that something you just tell people?" You ask him, mostly joking. Jake pretends to take offense, pressing his hand dramatically to his chest.
"Ma'am, you wound me," Jake says, pouting.
"I don't know. I think it is a pretty legitimate question."
"I am the best."
"And how do they determine that exactly? Who the best is."
"Well, there are a lot of ways. Many different factors to consider."
"Oh really?"
"Yup. Also sorts of stuff, but they get us all together once a year, and we have a competition."
"What kind of competition?"
"Only the elite members of the Navy participate. We all take turns sliding."
"Sliding?"
"Yup," Jake confirms, sounding one hundred percent serious. "We set up a huge slip and slide on the carrier runway. You only get three tries, and then we add them for scoring. I may have ripped off all the skin on my chest last year, but it was worth it to win."
You can't help but let out a laugh. You picture Hangman competitively sliding down a yellow tarp that doesn't have enough water on it. It's such a silly concept you aren't sure where he came up with it.
"Ahh there she is," Jake says with a broad smile.
"I never would have thought that was a skill the Navy values."
"Yes, Ma'am. It's actually the second part of the Naval academy mission," Jake tells you, still maintaining a serious tone despite his smile. Then Jake stands up straight to his full height in parade rest.
"To develop Midshipmen morally, mentally and physically and to imbue them with the highest ideals of duty, honor and loyalty in order to graduate leaders who are dedicated to a career of naval service and have potential for future development in mind and character to assume the highest responsibilities of command, citizenship and government." Jake repeats dutifully and then adds. "In addition to putting these ideals to the test by hosting the world's most competitive slip and slide competition. Weirdly, people don't talk about that second part much."
You only laugh harder, shaking your head at him. "Yeah, an absolute mystery. I can't believe that isn't common knowledge."
Jake chuckles along with you. Then you two are interrupted by a timer going off from Jake's phone. He sighs and silents it.
"I'm sorry. I've got to go, sugar. Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah. I promise I'm okay. Thank you, Jake."
He bites his lip and nods at you going to put in his shoes and lace them back up. "Are you going to be home later?"
"Yeah, I'll be home."
"We could do something if you're feeling up for it. Or I can pick up takeout."
"That's sweet, Jake, but you really don't have to."
"I want to," he says with a shrug. Then checks his reflection in the mirror, making sure he is presentable to go back to work. After that, he turns back to you.
"I'll think about it." You tell him before playfully shoving him out the door so he isn't late. You try not to melt when Jake gives you another hug. You catch his hand just before he is too out of reach.
"Thank you, Jake. For making me smile."
"It's the prettiest thing I've seen all day," Jake says, squeezing your hand with his own. His words muddle your brain a little bit. You don't get to say anything else before he heads off to his truck, waving at you one more time and driving off.
You also pretend you aren't screaming on the inside when Jake comes home from work that night with your favorite food and ice cream. The night feels easy and warm, sitting and eating with Jake. The events of that morning can't cross your mind while Jake tells you all about some of the weird contraband he found in the junior sailors' barracks that day. He is no less than spellbinding.
🏡🧩🏡
Jake is sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work. He is surrounded by neatly organized papers spread all along the table in various piles. Jake is wearing a button-down, tie, and slacks that make you do a triple-take on him.
"Welcome home," he says, glancing up from his laptop that is open in front of him. That's when you see he also has a pair of glasses on.
"Thank you," you say, slowly making your way to the kitchen but still looking at him.
"What are you working on there?" You ask.
"Oh, I'm doing my taxes," Jake says while giving you one of his winning smiles.
"Taxes?"
"Yes, Ma'am"
"I guess that makes sense," you say while looking around the kitchen for a snack.
After a few minutes of silence, you decide to ask another question. "Do you have a date later?"
You knew Jake dated. A man who looks like that has to date. However, you had yet to see him ever bring someone home, which felt odd considering everything about Jake, and the persona he liked to put on as Hangman.
"No. What makes you ask that?" Jake asks you.
"Oh. I don't know. You're dressed like you are going on a date."
"No, I'm not," he says, looking down at himself.
You laugh at him and shrug. "If you say so."
"I would never wear this on a date," Jake mutters, clearly offended.
"Well, then, why are you wearing it?"
"I'm doing taxes," he says again.
"Yeah, we have covered that. What does that have to do with your clothes?"
"I'm dressed like an accountant," Jake tells you. You can't hold back your giggles at his phrasing and bring a hand up to your mouth to try and stifle them before giving up entirely.
"What? What's so funny?"
"Two things," you say, holding up two fingers, finally biting back your giggles.
"One, the fact that you got dressed up to do your taxes. The second is that being an accountant is a euphemism for being a sex worker." Jake chuckles at your explanation but shrugs.
"Well, Mrs. Celeste said I should always dress for the day. It helps you present your best self. If you dress the part, it helps you act that part." Jake says that like a well memorized and treasured quote. A saying he clearly remembered with much fondness.
"And today is my tax day, so I am dressing like a tax professional. I will have you know. Since I started doing them myself, I have never had one problem with my taxes."
You couldn't help but chuckle more at his explanation and give him a fond smile. Sometimes the way Jake was so perfectly built and attuned for the military was endearing. Of course, a career Naval man would think a uniform was essential for each different activity.
"So, are the glasses part of your tax uniform too?"
He made a show of pushing the said glasses further up his nose. "Yes, Ma'am. They also are blue light blocking, which helps prevent migraines."
You nod along to his explanation. You finish putting together your snack and lean against the kitchen counter while munching on it. "Who is Mrs. Celeste? A teacher?"
Jake's lips flatten slightly before the expression relaxes just as quickly. "No, Mrs. Celeste is my Babula."
"Your Grandmother?" You guess.
"Yeah, sorry. My grandma, but she was strictly Mrs. Celeste growing up, only Babula occasionally."
"I don't think I've met someone who calls their grandparent by their first name."
"Well, not really her first name. You have to be respectful and throw the Miss in there with it. She is a very particular lady."
"Is it a southern thing?"
"Yeah, maybe," he says with a small laugh. The edges of his lips quirk up, and you have to look away from Jake to distract yourself. It is easy to fall into the trap of how beautiful he is, with the sparkle he can get in his eyes. Or how even the smallest of his smiles makes you want to grin back.
"So, how are the taxes?"
"Oh, it's good. I'm almost finished up."
"Awesome, congrats Jake."
"Have you done yours?" He asks you.
You shake your head and roll your eyes at the idea. "No, I definitely haven't."
"But you got your W2s in the mail last week."
"Jake, are you snooping through my mail?"
He raises both his hands up in defense. "No, I'm not! W2s just have a very particular look."
"I'm just kidding. I know you wouldn't snoop through my mail. Yeah, I got them, but I've been busy. I guess I should make a Tax Masters appointment or something."
That crease in between Jake's eyebrows appears, the one that haunts you, that you pretend you don't obsess over. Followed by a small frown.
"Tax Master?" He asks, clearly appalled. You shrug back at him, not entirely seeing the issue.
"I could do them for you," Jake says, then quickly adds on. "I mean, I can help you do them. If you have the time. I'm already dressed for it, and I won't charge you or anything."
"Oh no, Jake, that is so sweet, but I can't ask you to do that."
"No, really, I wouldn't mind. I think it would be fun. Plus, then you will have it done, and you won't have to worry about it."
"Really, thank you so much, but it's fine."
Jake's frown deepens at your answer, and he seems almost genuinely upset at your denial of his help. The warm feeling in your chest likes to flip over and grow a little bit more each time he is too sweet in moments like these.
"You know Javy warned me that you were an asshole when I was going to move in. However, you have not once lived up to that. You could stand to be less nice to me, Jake." You tell him. You mean it to come off as almost flirty and a bit of a joke. However, it doesn't seem to land with him that way.
The change that comes over Jake isn't something entirely tangible. It is almost like a shift in the air around him rather than anything physical. The way Jake looks at you just feels heavier and more charged. The confidence he always exudes seems to double with how he sits up just the smallest bit straighter but then leans back against his chair casually.
"Go get your W2s." He tells you in a perfectly level tone, but it has a demanding edge.
"Jake," you start to say and roll your eyes at him.
"Nope," Jake says, popping the p. His voice takes on a lower candace, leaving no room for arguments. "I'm not giving you a choice. We are going to do your taxes."
"No, we aren't doing my taxes."
"Yes, I am. I can't be caught not living up to my reputation. So, I'm not going to be nice and accept that you don't want to. This is one of the few situations I won't take no for an answer."
"It was just a joke."
"No, it wasn't," Jake says, giving you a small shrug. You can't tell if he is actually hurt by how he is acting, but you suspect some part of him was twinged at his best friend's description.
"It really was, Jake. Javy adores and trusts you. I'm sure he never would have suggested me moving in with you if he actually thought you were an asshole."
"I know I'm an asshole. It's fine, sugar, don't worry. I'm not going to tattle on you telling me that to Coyote."
"You aren't an ass, though. That was my whole point."
Jake just shook his head at your answer. "I am one, and I don't want that to be a surprise when you inevitably witness it."
You aren't sure how to respond to that, so you are relieved when Jake changes the topic. "Now, get your tax stuff, so it doesn't take us all night."
"Okay," you sigh, giving in to defeat. Jake gives you a mega-watt smile, and looks back at his computer screen.
As you are walking up the stairs, you hear him yell across the house. "Dress like your best accountant self!"
"I won't be doing that," you yell back.
"Please! It's important." Jake yells back.
When you are in your room getting all your stuff and paperwork pilled together. You find yourself opening your closet and pulling out an outfit that you could imagine wearing if you were an accountant.
You also spend several minutes too long wondering what would happen if you went back downstairs in the most provocative lingerie you own. After all, Jake didn't specify which type of accountant to dress up as. You wondered if it would be tempting to Jake. Could you provoke him into falling into lust with you? Tempt him enough that he took you on the dining room table on top of all the Tax paperwork? Jake has expressed attraction to women before, so there must be at least some part of him that is at least a little attracted to you.
You smash down your thirsty thoughts and try to screw your head back on straight before it can drift too much off on track. When you get back downstairs, Jake is still at the table. You dump all your stuff on an empty spot there.
Jake looks up from his computer and smiles at you, quirking an eyebrow. Then, Jake speaks to you teasingly, "And here I thought you might dress up as the other type of accountant you were telling me about."
Your brain has no choice but to start short-circuiting, and you open and close your mouth twice. Jake starts shuffling through your paperwork, looking at what you have brought him.
"I ordered us some pizza too," he says before you get out a proper response or say anything teasing back to him.
"Yum. I'm excited," you tell him sliding into a seat and opening up your own laptop.
He stops his shuffling and examination of the papers to level you with a serious look. "Thank you for indulging me, by the way."
"Anything for you, Jake," you tell him and mean it. Unfortunately, the way you feel about your roommate is rapidly spiraling out of the tight control you tried to keep it in.
"I like when we do fun things like this together," Jake says to you, grinning.
"Me too," you tell him. Then add, "Only you would find taxes fun, though, Hangman."
"I am about to show you just how fun taxes can be and how you can get a great return," Jake says, taking your words in stride.
Jake does your taxes almost entirely by himself, only asking occasional questions. He also then organizes all of your paperwork in an extra accordion binder he has. The taxes aren't fun, but spending time with Jake is.
"Thank you," you say to Jake daring to press a soft, affectionate kiss to his cheek. You linger for a moment, the prickle of his end-of-day stubble ticking your lips, but you don't mind it. When you pull back to gauge his reaction, Jake looks almost pained and upset. You worry for a moment that even just a cheek kiss could make him react this way. You briefly thank god you didn't actually try to seduce him earlier.
"Always, anytime." He finally says. However, Jake is now glaring down at his keyboard and not looking at you.
"I hope it wasn't too much trouble," you venture, confused by this mood shift.
"Sugar?"
"Yes, Jake?"
"I don't think you should pay so much rent."
"What?"
"Listen," he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it all out of sorts. "I just don't think it's fair for you to pay so much."
"Of course, it's fair. I live here," you explain.
"Yeah, but no. I get BAH, and I don't have any student loans from school. Plus, the Navy pays me plenty as an officer. I was paying for this place all alone before you moved in anyways."
"I'm not going to pay less rent because you saw my financials and feel bad." You tell Jake quietly, trying not to actively become upset.
"Please don't be so stubborn," he pleads with you.
You cross your arms over your chest, "Take your own advice."
"I'm the one being stubborn?"
"Yes! You are. You are the most stubborn man I have ever met."
Jake's frown deepens, and that sad look in his eyes at your words starts to break through to you. Then he responds, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll try and work on that."
Jake starts meticulously putting things away into different folders. He moves through each of his piles on the table and doesn't spare you a second glance. It leaves a crushing feeling in your chest.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you."
"There is no need to apologize. I'm the one who is sorry." Jake says, shrugging off your apology.
"No, you don't need to apologize. I understand why you said what you did. I know you were trying to be sweet." You start to say but are cut off.
"I wasn't trying to be sweet."
"Oh my god. Okay, fine, trying to be nice, then," you say, rolling your eyes.
Jake sets down the folder he is currently holding, and it thumps a little bit on the table. The force and loud sound make you flinch.
"I'm not sweet, nice, good, or kind. Okay? I'm not any of those things. I call things how I see them. I look at facts, figures, and numbers. Then I run calculations and act accordingly."
"And how is it mathematically possible that me paying less rent possibly works out for you, Jake? You will be losing money." As he shakes his head, he huffs at your words a little bit like they are funny.
"You could do a lot and make a lot of gains if you paid less rent, and I don't mind picking up the extra amount. You might be one of the few people I haven't hated living with. I don't want you figuring out you need to live somewhere cheaper and moving out on me. So, I'm not being nice. I'm being a selfish asshole." Jake clenches his fists hard, and you see his knuckles start to turn paler. With a deep breath, he relaxes and shrugs. Loosening the tight coil of his muscles, Jake gives you a curt tight lipped smile with a nod. "I'm just a selfish asshole, okay?"
"Please stop. Don't say that."
"Why not? It's true," he says, rolling those beautiful eyes at you.
"It's not true. Also, I would prefer if you don't use the word selfish around me, please." You say in a surprisingly steady voice. You don't really want to get triggered right now, and you could only hope that you wouldn't have to explain triggers to Jake. It takes him one moment to think and another to process before he says anything.
"Oh fuck. I'm so sorry. I won't use it again." Jake promises, no questions asked. His words blow up a balloon in your diaphragm, making it feel like your breath is about to catch. Then he adds on, "If there are any other words…" He looks around and grabs a loose pen and one of his notebooks. Jake slides them across the table to you. "Write them down. Maybe? If you can."
The warmth Jake inspires in your chest is unparalleled and drowns out anything you can think of aside from how endearing he can be and how fond you are of him. Jake doesn't take the lack of response from you well.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes again. You spring from where you had been sitting, walking slowly and deliberately toward him. You make sure to give him plenty of time to protest and say something.
Jake looks steadily back at you. However, he looks like he is preparing himself to be slapped or punished, holding perfectly still. Instead, though, you wrap Jake in a tight hug. He is stiff as a board beneath you. After a long moment, as you consider pulling away, Jake relaxes and wraps his arms around you. They are wrapped loosely at first but then tighten in small intervals until Jake is practically clinging to you.
"You are so good," you whisper to him, a little dazed. You are almost stunned by how desperately Jake tries to pretend otherwise.
"Don't say that," Jake whispers in a broken voice, hugging you a bit tighter.
"Too good." You left the words for me unsaid, but you felt them.
"I'm really not."
"It's okay if you don't see it. I see it for you. I'll make sure everyone else sees, too," you tell Jake curling your hands into a fist in his shirt.
He doesn't say anything but keeps holding you tightly. You don't know how long the two of you stay embraced like that until Jake finally eases his grip on you, and you reluctantly pull away from him as well.
He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Please stop paying so much in rent," he requests again.
"That will not be happening, Hangman."
"So stubborn." He sighs. Jake kisses your forehead again. He leaves his lips lingering, and you start to count the breaths memorizing how warm his lips are. Three breaths later, he is pulling away. Jake grabs his laptop and a stack of folders heading upstairs without another word to you.
You stare after him for a while, trying to parse out the mystery Jake presents, and coming up a bit short, just like you always did. He is one of the most outwardly confident men you have ever met. Yet, other times, Jake is the first person to make a self-deprecating comment about himself. You swallow down how much you desire more from him, wishing for more, knowing you can't and shouldn't have it.
🏡🧩🏡
You and Jake were lounging on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone, avoiding going to the gym, half-heartedly trying to convince you to go with him. You were also scrolling your phone while deflecting Jake’s offers.
That was when your doorbell rang, followed by heavy knocking. You and Jake both look up at each other. He raises his eyebrows, and you just shrug, having no idea who could be at the door. Jake looks back to his phone, clearly ready to ignore it, when the doorbell rings twice more, and the pounding on the door gets louder. Jake sighs and gets up, walking across the house towards the noise.
“Hold your horses out there!” Jake yells towards the door before opening it.
You wait for a moment, trying to hear who it is, curious about who would be so rude and what they needed. However, you don’t hear anything from where you are on the couch. So you stand and follow Jake into the entry hallway.
“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” You hear Jake say. He is standing at his full height in the door frame.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You hear from on the other side of the door.
Nervousness shoots through your whole body hearing that voice. Anxiety immediately pops up, and your stomach drops. You know that voice. You have heard it a thousand times before. Why was he here? How was he here?
“I asked you to leave, Sir.”
“Just tell that little bitch that —”
Jake steps further forward onto the front porch. “Now, we don’t speak about ladies like that where I am from. And I’m going to ask that you act accordingly while at my home, Sir.” Jake cuts him off with that well mannered southern military niceness.
“I don’t give a fuck where you are from.”
You flinch at his tone of voice, feeling bile rise up in your throat. You lean against the wall slapping your hand over your mouth, trying to prevent yourself from throwing up.
“I asked you politely to leave. I won’t ask again. I can call you a taxi or an uber. But don’t you dare take one more step on my front porch.” Jake says in a deep tone. You are hit with the sudden, horrifying realization that he is going to hurt Jake, and that is something you just won’t let happen.
You are trying to go through possibilities in your head. Anyway, this could shake out; it would be bad for Jake. Jake would either get hurt and get in trouble, or he would kick ass and gets in worse trouble. This would end badly; either way, Jake is going to get in trouble, and it would be your fault. You would be responsible because you caused this situation. Jake was going to pay the consequences all because he was trying to protect you. You were roommates, so Jake must think he has some obligation to protect you.
You feel swamped in stress knowing how easily Jake can escalate a situation and provoke someone; sometimes, all it takes for him is one well-placed smile. That stress is finally what unfreezes you, and you stumble towards the front door.
Jake’s large, broad form still mostly hides your view of the other side, but you cautiously approach and set your hand gently on the back of his shoulder. You feel how tense Jake’s muscles are under your hand and can see it in the line of the back of his neck.
“Sugar, I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Jake says in a deep voice. He doesn’t budge an inch or look back toward you. “But I would like to suggest that you go back inside. I have this handled.”
You want to cry. You want to cry for so many reasons: cry because you are in this situation, that you have to deal with this again, that you feel so small. However, you mostly want to cry because Jake “Hangman” Seresin is such a good man. It’s startling sometimes, not because it’s really unexpected, but rather that it is so completely and bluntly genuine.
Having Jake here defending you, trying to protect you from the person who has probably scared you most in your life, it feels so silly to pretend like you don’t have feelings for him, to pretend that you aren’t more in love with him than you ought to be.
The realization doesn’t really feel shocking; it is closer to acceptance. A given truth that is part of your life now. An empowering truth that swells in your bones like a swift tide, filling up the spaces that have been empty for so long.
You love Jake more than you are scared. The warmth of affection towards him is so hot it burns out the freezing ice in your veins and the numbness in your fingers. You love him, and you will be damned if you let Jake be hurt, touched, tainted, or affected by this man who has hurt you. It seems cliché that loving someone like this is enough for you to finally break through the barrier of fear you have lived your whole life in. However, now it just feels so simple.
Your heart is beating hard. The adrenaline is pumping through you so strongly that you can hear it echoing in your ears. Your hand slides up Jake’s back to his bicep, and you give him a gentle push. Jake shifts with the movement. He slides to the right so you can finally fully see the front porch. However, he doesn’t move enough that you are fully exposed. Jake’s body is still partially concealing you from view.
Then you hear your name, and your attention snaps away from its hyper-focus on Jake. You turn it forward and brace yourself. You drift your eyes to the ground, landing on the feet of your visitor, staying there for a minute before meeting his burning eyes.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Ah, so she is here,” your father says, throwing his hands up and glaring at Jake. You can smell the booze on him from the doorway. It makes your stomach turn. You resist the urge to wretch, squeezing your hand, which is still on Jake’s bicep. He flexes, and his bicep digs into his shirt as your nails also dig in. You don’t like those angry, hateful eyes on your Jake. Jake doesn’t budge an inch or react to your nails on his skin.
“What are you doing here, Dad?” You ask him. Your hold on Jake acting like an anchor point for you.
“You don’t bother to answer my texts or anyone else’s calls and texts. Just because you moved out doesn’t mean you get to be a selfish bitch” your dad spits out.
“I’ve been pretty busy,” you defend yourself in a small voice.
“Oh, I bet you have been so busy. What are you doing these days?” He growls at you. “You know it doesn’t really count as moving out if you are spreading your legs to pay for it.”
You flinch, your hand falling from Jake’s arm and balling into a tight fist at your side. You hate how easily he can make you feel small, even when you are angry.
“Watch your mouth,” Jake hisses, rejoining the conversation. You glance at him, and Hangman is shaking with contained rage. You know this is not a good situation; anytime, someone could blow up.
“You should go inside, Hangman,” you tell him gently.
“Absolutely not,” Jake responds instantly.
“So you are playing the part of a pathetic little whore wife for this pretty boy.” Your dad says, cutting in.
You grit your teeth as he continues on. “Come on. I thought you gave up pussies after our talk when you were in high school.”
With the reminder of just what he is referring to, You are overcome with anger, and you finally can’t take it anymore. You recognize his words for what they are, a direct bait at Jake and undercutting you. It makes you so angry you start shaking. Tears burst from your eyes, trying to let off some steam bubbling inside you. It boils up, so you can’t take it anymore, and you whisper, “Shut up.”
“What?” Your dad asks, clearly shocked. You take a step forward fueled by your anger.
“Shut the fuck up.” You pronounce each word slowly. Then continue on, “I’m tired of this. You don’t get to be mean to me and still expect a relationship with me. You don’t get to hit me, yell at me, and abuse me just to show up at my house on your bullshit. And you sure as fuck don’t get to say anything about Jake.” You suck in a rapid breath, the words fueling the fire in you. Your angerburning brighter with every word.
“You made me think that kind, decent men didn’t exist, Dad, but Jake is good. He isn’t a pretty boy. He is smart, sweet, strong, and kind. I will not hear you say one more thing about him. Ever.” You punctuate the sentence with a jab of your index finger at him. He looks like he might be cowed, and before you can even finish a prayer that he will be done, the fire in his eyes lits again.
“You could have at least found someone who stands up for you. A real man.” Your dad isn’t even looking at you when he says it. Instead, he is staring at Jake.
“That’s a rather rude thing to say about an active duty Naval Officer,” you hiss. Your dad takes a step back, his eyebrows raising, reexamining Jake. He shifts his weight between his feet nervously.
“You aren’t welcome at our home. So leave and crawl back into the bottle you drank before coming here. Don’t come back, Dad. I don’t want to see you.”
You try to force your body to relax, but the adrenaline is still pumping hard in your veins. So, you start to walk backward back into the house. Jake still hasn’t taken his eyes off your dad, and he makes no move to come with you back into the house.
“Jake?” You ask.
“Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I need to have a talk with your old man here and make sure that he makes it home.”
“I don’t want him near you.”
Your dad still looks blown away by this turn of events. Like he is scrambling to put words together. He keeps looking back and forth between you and Jake.
Jake breathes out heavily through his nose. He turns his head enough to glance at you. Whatever he sees on your face must break his resolve. Jake clenches his jaw, and you watch the muscle flex once, then twice. After that, he rolls his shoulders, and it’s like Hangman is physically able to just shrug the tension of the situation off.
“Get home safe, Sir. I suggest doing so soon. MAs are known to drive down our street.” Jake says it in a light, easygoing tone, border lining on cheery. Then, plastering that practiced, perfect smile on his face, Jake nods his head toward your dad and comes back into the house.
Jake closes the door but doesn’t move, staring out the frosted window on the front door. His body is tense again, standing rigidly at his full height. You are still shaking from anger. You slump against Jake’s back, letting your body weight shift into his. One of his arms bends backward a bit awkwardly, sitting on your waist. His large palm is burning hot. You can feel it through the fabric of your clothes. Then Jake’s fingers flex to give you a small squeeze of reassurance.
When Jake finally does move, it is just to turn away from the door and wrap you tightly in his arms. You enjoy the warmth of his strong embrace, feeling exhausted as the adrenaline starts to fade. Jake is still shaking, though.
“He’s gone,” Jake says into the crown of your head. You let a little sigh escape you, feeling a bit more of the tension release.
“Good,” you manage to tell him.
“I wanted to defend you. I wanted to slam his face so hard into the porch that he wouldn’t ever be able to open his mouth again. Wanted to tell him how you are—”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” you cut Jake off before he can continue. You don’t want to know what he thinks about you right now. You can’t handle whatever words could spill out of his mouth next.
“I’ll make sure he never comes back here,” Jake says, his voice dropping, and you feel the rage contained in him, the subtle shake and heat coming from how tense he is.
“I don’t want him near you. If something happened to you because of him….” you trail off. Your hands wander the expanse of Jake’s back in an almost soothing motion. However, you don’t know who it is soothing more, you or him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
He takes a deep breath and then releases it in a heavy sigh. “What if you just give me his full name and social security number? You wouldn’t have to know about anything else.”
“Jake,” you whisper in a tone that is almost reminiscent of amusement.
Jake sighs again. He draws back from your hug and cups your face. He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away the tears that have been lingering.
“You are the kindest, most compassionate person I have ever met,” Jake whispers. Considering how he is looking at you with a glimmer in his eyes, it’s clear the emotions of the situation are still running rampant. That look, paired with how he is holding you, makes you think Jake might be about to kiss you.
“No, No. Stop.” You don’t know if you are trying to ask him not to kiss you or to stop talking. Either way, you feel like you might explode if this interaction isn’t over soon.
“Yes,” Jake says. “Let me, please.”
His thumb is still tracing along your cheek, and you can’t help yourself from leaning a tiny bit into his palm. An action that momentarily freezes his thumb before it picks up steadily again. Not hearing an explicit no from you again, Jake continues on.
“That man has no say over you. Who you are is so stunning. You never deserved to be treated the way you were. I am so sorry you ever had to go through that. I am so sorry he showed up here. You don’t owe him a single second of your time or attention. You are valuable. You are amazing. He is trying to make you small because he sees how good you are.”
A shudder racks through your body, hearing Jake’s words, and fresh tears start to fall unprompted from your eyes. As soon as they do, though, Jake pushes them away. “I am so proud of you for getting away from him. You are so strong and brave. It makes me awed. I’m so glad that you moved in here. You are…” Jake doesn’t finish the sentence, he seems to lose his train of thought. His mouth parts a little bit, and his eyes flash down to glance at your lips.
Jake is going to kiss you, and it might possibly be the worst thing that could happen. If he kisses you right now because of your dad, you know you might break into a million different pieces. You don’t want Jake to kiss you for any reason but pure desire and affection. You don’t want him to kiss you in comfort, or pity, or convenience, or as an outlet. You don’t want him to kiss you just because emotions are running high from the incident that just happened. Most of all, you don’t want Jake to kiss you and not mean it. You don’t want him to kiss you without the intention of kissing you again.
So, even though you are desperate to feel his lips, and memorize their shape, how they feel against yours. Desperate to discover what he tastes like, curl your fingers in his hair and take comfort in the form of his body. You know you can’t, it has the power to break you, and you already feel so broken and exhausted.
You cover the hand Jake has on your face with your own and pull it away. However, you don’t immediately let go holding his large palm. Hangman takes your hint and steps backward, giving you a little space so that he is pressed against the door again. You decide to thread your fingers with his. Jake’s skin is still almost hot to the touch in your hand.
“Thank you, Jake,” You finally say, meeting his piercing green eyes again. You squeeze the hand you are holding. He gives you a tight nod and then tips his head upwards, so he is looking at the ceiling. Jake rests his head against the door as well and closes his eyes.
You observe him for a moment, then you go to release the hand you are holding. Jake stops you, though, his hand tightening as yours loosens, and you try to pull away. You give a little tug, and he tightens his fingers even more. Jake’s head is still tipped, and you hear him sucking in a deep breath before blowing it out.
“Please don’t let go,” he begs you. Jake’s eyes flash open again, and he is looking down his nose at you. “I just, I need you.”
You inhale sharply at his phrasing, and he sighs heavily. “I might do something terrible if you let go of me. If you don’t need me here, there won’t be anything to stop me.”
“You’re not going to do anything terrible,” You say, retangling your fingers with his. Jake’s hand flexes in yours, and he takes another big breath.
“I’ll make sure he loses our address and forgets it too. Make sure he doesn’t remember anything at all anymore. I’ll—”
“You’ll stay right here, Jake.”
He lifts his head so it isn’t tilted against the door anymore and stares down at you. He looks like he is holding on to every word you are saying to keep his sanity. His skin is flushed from anger, and his palm shakes slightly in yours. You were in awe he was able to hold back this reaction so long, remaining calm and collected throughout the entire encounter.
“You will stay here with me, Jake. I need you.”
“Yeah?” He asks shakily.
“Yeah. Need your help, Jake.”
There is a low rumble in his chest, almost resembling the hum it was probably supposed to be. You step closer to Jake, once again closing the gap between you.
“Tell me what you need.” It comes out as a demand, and he seems to realize that when he adds on a small quick “Please.”
You look at him then, trying to read his face and those eyes that haunt your dreams. You examine the creases and lines his face makes with the severe angry look he has plastered on. You take the time to observe how his hair is hazardously falling out of place for how many times he has run his hand through it. You don’t really find any of the answers you are looking for. You just find Jake. And Jake is an oh-so-wondrous thing to find.
You step closer to him and tug the hold he has on your hand again. His nose scrunches for a moment, and his frown tightens. His eyes lift upwards towards the ceiling again as his jaw clenches; he lets go of your hand. Jake’s hand falls heavily back until it hits the door making a smacking sound. You flinch at the sound but take another step forward, crowding Jake against the door. You lift your hand up to trace over his neck and then settle on his face, encouraging him to adjust his gaze back to you. He follows direction and leans into your hold, just like you leaned into his earlier.
“Need you to stay with me,” you start slowly, encouraged as Jake nods his head in a small jerk.
“I need you to leave the front door.”
He considers your words for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry, sugar. I need to protect you.”
“There is no one in the world I feel safer with than you, Jake.” He squeezes his eyes tightly closed at those words and pulls in a ragged breath. “So, you can’t leave me alone here.”
He nods again but still has his eyes closed. “Ain’t leaving. You need me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Can I hold you?” Jake asks, then once again remembers his manners throwing out another small, please.
“Yes, please,” you whisper. Jake doesn’t waste a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snuggly against him. The change of angle causes your hand to slip from his face, so you wrap it around his neck instead, your fingers drifting against the short hairs there. You go to wrap your other arm around his waist but instead awkwardly hit the front door. You hiss out a small breath at the momentary pain.
Jake responds to the sound. He starts walking forward, making you walk backward. Walking while he is wrapped around you proves to be difficult, and you stumble a little. That seems to be all Jake needs; he wraps his arms under your ass and lifts you.
You are terrified at the concept that Jake is going to try to carry you, and you open your mouth to protest. However, with only one small grunt that honestly sounded more like pure sex with how low and husky it is, Jake is carrying you down the hallway. You wrap your arm around his neck more securely, adding a second one for more leverage.
Jake doesn’t stop to set you on the couch like you had expected. Instead, he continues up the stairs and right into his room. He sets you on his bed gently, and you unwrap your arms from his neck, letting him pull away. Jake goes back to the door of his room, closes it, and clicks the lock into place. You raise an eyebrow at his action.
"That’s rather presumptuous, Hangman.”
“What?” He looks at you confused before he looks back at his door. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t, I’m not.”
You shush him motioning towards yourself to try and get him to come closer again. “I know.”
Jake comes back to your side. Now that you have been given the temporary clearance to freely touch him, you cannot stop yourself. Jake sits next to you on the bed, and you are scooting closer so that your thighs are flush side by side. Jake throws an arm across your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him.
“Do you need to talk about it?” He asks you softly. You let a hollow dry laugh at his question, your laughter starts to devolve until it’s nearly hysteric giggling. Jake takes it in stride, holding you close and his thumb drawing small soothing back-and-forth shapes. After you are almost breathless and heaving, you finally start to recover.
“I don’t want to talk about it, but I definitely need to. Not with you, though, Jake.”
“Why not me?”
“Because it’s the kind of fucked you talk to a therapist about.”
“I’m a great listener.”
“I know you are, but this isn’t your baggage to pack around and deal with, Jake.”
“Baggage? Sugar, that’s why we have the attic. If that isn’t enough space, or you fill it up. I’ll build a shed in the backyard.”
“What if that’s not enough room?”
“Then we have the garage. We’ll just park in the driveway.”
“You would give up your shop?” You ask, thinking of Jake’s favorite place in the house.
“Yup,” Jake says without hesitating. “And after that, well, I’ve never been too fond of the extra guest room anyway.”
“If that’s all not enough?”
“Then we’ll move. Or we go through it until we find some we can let go of.” Jake says, his free hand crossing his body to settle warmly on your knee.
“It’s not physical baggage.”
“I know it’s not.”
The feeling of affection you feel for him grows even more. Every time you think that there is no way possible you can fall further in love with him, Jake turns around and proves you wrong. He does some kind, funny, sweet, unexpected thing that makes you fall a little harder.
You lift your head and look at him. Jake’s eyes meet your own, the severe stormy look in them a little less present. He is a bit more at ease, no longer shaking with anger. You let your eyes fall to his lips. You briefly think you love him so much it might be worth the risk to shift forward and kiss him. That maybe it wouldn’t lead to disaster like you’ve convinced yourself it would.
“What’s your favorite comfort movie?” Jake asks, breaking you from your trance. You shift a bit further away from him but not far before giving him an answer.
The two of you watch your favorite comfort movie. You are cuddled into Jake’s side the whole time. The two of you had shifted back into the bed, cuddled close while watching the wall-mounted TV in Jake’s room. Exhaustion hits you like a wall as the adrenaline leaves your system, accompanied by the heat radiating off of Jake, the way everything smells like him, and his Tempurpedic bed; you relax more than you have in a long time.
As you start to drift asleep against Jake’s chest, his heartbeat has a steady, soothing rhythm under your ear. You think out of all the times you have dreamed of falling asleep with Jake in his bed, none of those fantasies come even close to how good it actually feels. None of your dreams prepared you for how safe you would feel.
Your dreams also didn’t prepare you for sneaking back to your room at three in the morning when you woke up. Or pretending the next day that nothing had happened. After all, nothing had happened except some tense moments and Jake getting a glimpse of your past. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t, either. You catch him watching you closer than he would typically for the next few days.
More time starts to pass, and you are thankful that nothing was risked or changed between you and Jake or has affected you as roommates. There are only the slightest moments when both of you are much more casual about physical affection. Hugging Jake was now a commonplace part of your day, and you occasionally catch yourself daydreaming about what it felt like to fall asleep in his bed.
🏡🧩🏡
You had started to pick up what the signs were when Jake wasn't okay, and something was bothering him pretty early into moving in. He had some pretty obvious tells. However, something had been really really bothering him for a while now. He didn't say anything to you, but he didn't have to; Jake's mannerisms gave him away. Jake wasn't following his routine and had started obsessively cleaning.
The other night, he knocked on your door, bursting open seconds after you told Jake he could come in. Then Hangman had all but begged you to let him deep clean your room. When you told Jake no, he gave you a look like you just insulted his Babula and stalked out of the room. Half an hour later, he was back in your doorway, asking the same question phrased slightly differently. You had finally given in after his second time double-checking. However, you insisted that you helped and supervised his cleaning. Once you agreed, Jake had done his happy dance. It was so cute it managed to cover the embarrassment that was crawling in you at letting someone else, let alone the man you loved your roommate, clean your room.
The next day Hangman decided to reorganize all the bookshelves. First by color, then by genre, and even one time by the number of pages. His last reorganization was to put them all back to by author's last name. This was only after Jake talked to you for over an hour about the pros and cons of the Dewey decimal system in modern library science.
After the books, you come home, and there is a puzzle on the table. A 2500-piece puzzle of the painting Meeting On The Turret Stairs. Jake works on it constantly. Only stopping to go to work and the gym. For three days, he doesn't read and doesn't do his sudoku. Jake doesn't sit with you in the living room at night. Instead, he just works on his puzzle, blowing past his typical bedtime every night. Then he stops going to the gym, and a day after that, he cancels his weekly call with his niece. That's when you know without a shadow of a doubt that whatever is bothering Jake must be significant.
Finally, you can't bite your tongue or try to keep your nose out of his business anymore. The concern you feel is too much to handle. You had gotten up at 3 am for some water, and Jake was still puzzling at the table.
"How's it going, Sport?"
"No, I'm Hangman," Jake answers in a quiet voice.
"What?" you ask him, confused.
"Not my callsign," Jake mumbles to you. You squint and try to piece together what he means in your still half-asleep brain.
"You know someone named Sport?"
Jake just shrugs his shoulders, engrossed in his task. "There are worse callsigns to have."
"Like Hangman?" You tease him. Jake finally looks up at you when you say that. Jake's eyes are bloodshot, and he has a hurt look. The small frown, paired with his glassy tired eyes, makes you feel like you just kicked a puppy.
"Hangman is cool," Jake protests.
"Hangman is very cool," you tell him placatingly, holding up your hands in surrender.
"You don't actually think it's cool," Jake whispers, his tired eyes falling back to his puzzle. Jake sounds so sad about it that your feet are moving before your brain, and you are sliding next to him on the bench for the long side of the table.
"Hangman is cool," You say and then nudge him affectionately with your shoulder. "You are cool."
His lips quirk upwards from his frown before falling again. “Well, I am the Hangman.”
"How is the puzzle going?"
"Fine, good. I like puzzling."
"You have done other puzzles?" You ask.
"Yeah, I have a whole box full."
You hum at his words, tiredly wiping your eyes. "You should have been Puzzleman."
Jake's eyes flash over to yours, slightly worried. "Do not ever say that around Coyote."
"Hangman, It's three AM." He looks surprised to hear the time, and you watch him turn his wrist to confirm the time on his watch.
"Go to bed," You add softly.
"I like when you call me Jake."
"Then why do you listen better when I call you Hangman?"
"Hmm, maybe because that's the name I hear most often. Maybe because it's easy to be Hangman."
"Is it hard to be Jake?" You ask him gently.
Jake is quiet for a long moment after your question. Before answering, he sets the piece he had been holding back in its color pile. All he gives you is a whispered, "Sometimes."
You aren't sure what to say, so instead, you put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. "It's time for bed, Jake. It'll be here in the morning."
Jake nods his head, listening to you. You get the water you initially came downstairs for and wait until Jake starts up the stairs. Following behind him, you make sure he goes into his room. You aren't really eased about the situation when he shuts the door. However, you are glad he will at least get some sleep.
Before you go back to bed, you shoot your group chat with Marlee and Javy a text.
Have you ever seen Jake do a puzzle?
You wake up to texts from Javy and Marlee, both asking all kinds of questions like: what you meant? What kind of puzzle? With how many pieces? And, how long has Jake been working on it?
From the questions alone, you gather that your worries are correct and Jake puzzling is not a good thing. Getting out of bed, you make yourself presentable enough to venture out of your room and downstairs.
In the mid-morning light, you are once again greeted with the sight of Jake hunched over his puzzle. A steaming cup of tea sitting next to him, and Chris LeDoux playing from the record player.
"Good morning," you say.
"Morning, sugar," Jake says back. You are glad to get a response, but the worry is still gnawing at you. You start putting together your own morning drink, and your eyes keep drifting back to him.
"Jake, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good." He says, not looking away from the puzzle piece he is currently studying.
You stop leaning against the counter, taking your drink with you and walk over to his side. Jake is completing this puzzle concerningly fast; you notice examining his progress this morning alone. He keeps staring at the piece in his hand, unblinking even as you approach. You watch him for a few more moments before deciding it's time for you to intervene.
"Do you want to talk about it?" You pose cautiously. His eyebrows crease, and he still doesn't look away from the puzzle.
"About the puzzle?" he asks you in a hopeful tone.
"No, Jake. About what's bothering you."
He finally does spare you a glance, and you don't like how dull his green sea glass eyes are. The normally vibrant, mischievous glint isn't present, and they are slightly bloodshot and red, even after you forced him to get some sleep.
"It's fine. I'm fine. Just work stuff. I've got to finish this puzzle." He tells you, then looks away.
You frown at Jake's answer. Puzzles are supposed to be fun, and you don't think this is actually a healthy, cathartic activity for Jake anymore. You almost preferred his book reorganization or when he went to every door and oiled the hinges, the top and bottom hinges twice but the middle ones only once. When you asked why not the middle one twice? Jake had told you something about middle children that had made you laugh.
While Jake normally released stress through organization, order, and control. The frenzy and energy he has with this puzzle is different. This wasn't like the month after you moved in, and he decided to rearrange his shop in the garage. Jake had reorganized his tools, labeling where they all went. After that, he made you a booklet of where everything in the garage was located, just in case you wanted to use something. Jake was very genuine about it, too. As if he really believed you were about to start borrowing his screwdrivers, saws, wrenches, lathe, and various other tools.
Your frown deepens, and you pull out your phone, shooting a text to your group chat with Marlee and Javy. Answering some of their questions from the morning and shooting back a request of your own.
After texting with them for a few minutes, you set your phone down on the table, taking the spot next to Jake. He gives you another short look but doesn't say anything. You take a moment to look at the piece he has been staring at for over five minutes at this point.
Taking it gently from his grasp, you examine it yourself. A moment later, you place the puzzle piece into the correct spot. Jake ghosts over the piece you just placed and taps it twice as your hand retreats.
"You got to tap it into place," he tells you softly. Then Jake is back digging through his piles, looking for the next piece.
You help Jake with his puzzle for a little bit, pleasantly surprised at the textured surface of the pieces, enjoying how tactile they are. You know this must be a very expensive and nice puzzle. Any time you place a piece, you make sure to tap it twice for Jake. Each time you do, Jake gives a small nod of approval. The one time you forget, his fingers quickly find the piece again and tap it twice with a small annoyed huff. You don't try and coax Jake into a conversation again, simply enjoying just being with him.
Y'all's work is broken a while later by the doorbell ringing. The sound startles Jake, and he jumps in his seat and his head snapping towards the door. You place a hand on his shoulder again to try and ease the sudden tension.
"It's okay," you tell him quietly, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. "I'll go get it."
"No, I can get it," Jake says, starting to stand up. You know he doesn't like you to answer the front door anymore. He hasn't ever since your dad showed up unannounced. Jake has never explicitly told you he doesn't want you to answer the door. However, you have picked up on it because he has not let you answer the door once since the incident. One time Jake had even sprinted across the house to beat you to the door.
"Don't worry. I know who it is," you say. Jake gives you a concerned look but then nods a little bit. His eyes trail after you as you make your way to the entry hall.
You open the door to Javy's tall form and are immediately wrapped in a tight warm hug. You lean into his embrace, enjoying the comfort for a moment.
"Is it really bad?" Javy asks you in a low voice when you pull away from his hug.
You shrug but then follow it up with a nod. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know. Maybe not? But it's the worst I have ever seen."
Javy gives you another reassuring squeeze before he saunters into the house towards the living area. Jake's eyes are trained on the hallway, clearly waiting for you to come back. However, when he sees Javy, he blanches, dropping his eyes back to the puzzle. Jake's shoulders hunching tight almost up to his ears.
"Hey, Hangman," Javy hums.
"Machado," Jake says gruffly, fiddling with a piece.
Javy shocks you by not immediately going over to Jake. Instead, he meanders over to your TV. He shocks you even more by opening a drawer in the entertainment center and pulling out an Xbox. Javy starts hooking up the console, and you shift your eyes to Jake again.
He is still sitting there digging through his puzzle pieces. You aren't sure what to do. If you should leave the two of them alone, join Javy in the living room, or go back to the table with Jake. So instead, you end up in a weird middle ground lingering in the hallway. Finally, when Javy has everything set up, and the Xbox booted on, he goes over to Jake. Coyote sets his hands down so hard on Jake's shoulders that it jostles the blond a bit.
"Wow, buddy, this is a nice puzzle," Javy says casually.
Jake just hums in response, placing a puzzle piece and tapping it twice. Only answering once he picks up another piece. "It's a watercolor by Frederic William Burton. He painted it in — "
"It's time for a break, Hangman," Coyote says, cutting him off mid-sentence.
"Naw, you see this section," Jake gestures generally towards the entire surface area of the puzzle. "It's almost done."
"Nope, it's break time," Javy repeats more firmly.
Jake's shoulders hang, and it looks like it takes him physical effort to stand up from the table. Jake's joints and back audibly pop from the action, and he raises his hands above his head to fully stretch.
You try to root yourself in concern, not thinking of the flash of skin you saw where Jake's shirt rode up a bit. Jake blinks a few times, and when he finishes stretching, he turns to fully look at Javy.
"How long are you staying?" Jake asks, daring to glance back down at the puzzle. Javy snaps his fingers in front of Jake's face twice and then points aggressively toward the couch.
"As long as I want to," Javy responds with an upbeat tone and a wide grin. He gives a light shove, and Jake shuffles over to the couch. Jake looks at you as he walks, and you can tell that he feels betrayed.
"I'll leave you to it," you say, ready to retreat into your room.
Jake looks away from you then, and you don't like the flash of embarrassment on his face as he does. It's been odd seeing Jake so completely out of his element and uncomfortable in his skin the last few days. Embarrassed wasn't a look that fits well on Jake. It made you want to rush in and remedy the situation.
"You don't gotta go," Jake calls to you.
"Javy came over to hang out with you, Jake." You say plainly. You want to give them space to talk and hang out.
"Yeah, bro, feeling the love," Javy says jokingly. It earns him a sharp jab to his side from Jake. The action just makes Javy laugh, though. "Don't worry so much, Hang. Marlee is coming by later with dinner, and then all four of us will kick back, but right now, it's me, you, and the Master Chief."
"You'll hang out with us later, though? Or are you doing something tonight?" Jake asks, ignoring Javy.
"There is nothing I would rather do tonight than hang out with you," you tell him. Jake's eyes snap up from where they had drifted to the left, lowered just enough not to meet yours. The burning bright color in them is startling after the dull, distant look he has supported the last few days. You can't stop the words you say next, needing to try and back peddle. It takes a long beat before you say, "and Marls and Javy. I don't know if you've ever had Marlee's green chile enchiladas, but they are to die for."
"They are so good," Jake agrees enthusiastically and looks down at the controller he is holding for the first time. Javy then shoots you a smile with a thumbs up, and you are reassured enough that you head upstairs and into your room.
You hear Javy's voice behind you, "You know Marlee only cooks for two reasons."
You close your door before hearing Jake's answer and resist the urge to eavesdrop. A few hours later, you hear loud yelling and laughter from the living room. Then get a text from Marlee to send the boys to help her get the food out of her car.
The rest of the night is mostly light, and Jake almost passes for his normal self. He jokes with Coyote, eats two helpings of Marlee's enchiladas, and with you... well, with you, he is hot and cold. One moment Jake will be flirting with you in a heavy bravado, then the next, he falls into a quiet, contemplative silence. Javy has to herd Jake away from his puzzle three separate times. It gets easier to draw Jake back in every time; the last time only took a question directed toward Jake to draw him back to you guys.
It is a good night, and everyone seems happy at the end. Jake hugs Javy and Marlee goodbye and leaves you to walk your friends out. You let out a small sigh of relief, seeing Jake walk up the stairs and not back to the dining room table.
You talk with the couple for a few more minutes on the front porch, then hug them goodbye. You are thankful for them, to have such good friends who are willing to be a support system, for you, for Jake, and for their other friends too. It warms your heart, and it feels a lot like family.
Jake's puzzling is less frenzied after that night, and he starts to reign back in. He has full conversations with you again and goes to the gym after work as well. He follows Javy's rules that had been texted to you both and doesn't puzzle by alone again.
For the next week or so, Javy and Marlee end up in your living room in the evenings. Keeping Jake from becoming too obsessed, you also notice that he won't let Javy or Marlee touch his puzzle pieces. But when Jake does work on the puzzle, and you are home, he always invites you to join him.
Jake makes an effort to converse with you while working too. The conversations you two get into range from academic to childhood memories, favorites — books, movies, foods, bands, animals— funny stories, and anything else that would pop in your heads. Of course, each puzzle piece must still be double tapped into place, and you are meticulous about following that rule.
Puzzling in the evenings with Jake surprisingly becomes one of your favorite times of the day. Sometimes you would even just sit there at the table with Jake, scrolling on your phone while he works on the puzzle.
Hangman's presence is a comforting steady grounding force, so much so that you can only hope you provide half of that for him. You knew you were roommates, and Jake may not carry the same romantic feelings you do. However, you couldn't deny the plain platonic affection that poured from him, so much you sometimes think M aybe . Maybe he does feel more.
When you enter the kitchen, you see the puzzle is finished. You go to examine it and realize two pieces are missing. You feel a bit of worry creeping up in you, not sure how Jake will react to having lost pieces and being unable to complete the puzzle.
You start to look around, checking every chair and bench to make sure a piece hasn't fallen. You shine a light under the couch in case they slipped under there. Then you are flipping up the edge of the rug in the living room and trying to think of any other feasible place the pieces could have disappeared.
"What are you doing?" you hear, and you snap your head to see Jake standing on the other side of the couch, looking at you bemused.
"Sorry, I was just looking for your missing pieces," you say, straightening up and fixing the rug.
Jake quirks an eyebrow then he follows your gaze to the table where his puzzle is. Jake's mouth drops open, lips barely parted, and a soft "Oh." falls out like he didn't even make the sound intentionally.
"No luck so far, though. I'm sorry. I'm sure they will turn up. Only so many places they could have gone," You say, making sure to project an upbeat, positive tone and attitude.
Jake looks between you and the puzzle twice before suddenly you are graced with the rarest of Jake Seresin's smiles. It is one you have only seen a handful of times. It's different than his smirk and his confident panty dropping smile. It's not the smile that he gets when he laughs, and his eyes crinkle around the edges or the mouth wide open smile. It's not his practiced perfect smile he uses for pictures.
No, this smile is closed-mouthed, those pearly whites hidden from view. It's a quirk of his lips like Jake is trying to hold it back from showing it on his face but he isn't entirely successful. His bottom lip is tucked a little bit between his teeth as if he is physically trying to bite back the expression, none of which prevents Jake's dimples from popping up.
It's a smile that always leaves you a little stunned, and this is no exception. Not that there are many things about Jake that don't leave you feeling that way. This smile, paired with the soft look in his eyes, makes you want to melt into the floor.
"I have the pieces," Jake tells you then. It takes you a few moments to process his words.
"Oh, you do?"
"Yeah, I do," he says and pulls out a ziplock baggie from his pocket with the two pieces in it.
"That's great!"
"They weren't lost. I was saving them, actually."
"Saving them for what?"
"For you. Well, for us."
You don't think you are able to hide your surprise at his words. "For us?"
"Yeah. You know, so we can finish this puzzle together. We worked on it together. So, we should finish it together. Few things match the feeling of putting the final piece of a puzzle into place."
God, you want to kiss him. You want to grab his face and smash your lips against his. You want to taste him and thread your fingers in his short dirty blonde hair. The little fantasy starting to form in your brain is cut off by Jake walking over to the table.
You follow him there, and Jake sets the last two pieces on the table, letting you pick which one you want. Once you make your selection, Jake grabs the other one.
"Okay, on three," he tells you with a grin. At his countdown, you both place the pieces of the puzzle. Automatically you double tap your piece into place. Jake was right; it is an extremely satisfying feeling finishing the puzzle and seeing it whole for the first time.
Your gaze drifts over the puzzle, and you look up to see Jake staring at you instead of the finished piece. After a moment, you realize what is wrong. Your hand reaches across and gently nudges Jake's to the side. Then you tap Jake's piece twice, realizing that for the very first time, he seemed to have missed that compulsion of his. However, you knew it would bother Jake when he realized he had forgotten, so you make sure to complete the ritual.
Jake's gaze snaps down to the piece you had tapped for him. Then his knuckles purposely brush against the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.
"Thank you," spills from both of your mouths at the same time, which makes you laugh.
"Jinx," Jakes says in a rushed voice, making you laugh harder. That odd tension in the air between you two disappears.
You walk into the kitchen and grab a white claw from the fridge, bringing it back for Jake, handing it to him. Jake is a strict enforcer of the jinx soda pop rule. The two of you look at the puzzle for a few more minutes. Taking in the stunning painting, the yearning and sadness of it never fails to impact you.
While the two of you had been working on the puzzle, Jake had told you many different facts about The Meeting On The Turret Stairs. How it was a watercolor painting by Frederic William Burton, the poem it was based on, the era it was painted in, and its place in Irish art.
When you asked Jake more, he surprised you by knowing hyper-specific details and answers off the top of his head. Intrigued, you learned how he had double majored at Annapolis in Aerospace Engineering and History. However, because Jake was golden boy Midshipman Seresin, he had gotten away with his final history thesis being art focused. Hangman more than understood how to be charming when he needed to be.
"What now?" You ask him.
"What do you mean?" Jake asks, confused.
"What do we do with the puzzle?" you ask. It sounds much better than what you wanted to say. What now between the two of you? What were you going to do to keep spending time together?
"We take it apart." Jake shrugs.
"No," you gasp, horrified thinking of all the time you had put into the puzzle just to undo it and throw it back in the box.
"What else would we do?" Jake asks you. You think for a moment before smiling at your own idea.
"Let's Mod Podge it, and then we can hang it up. We have some pretty bare walls in the house, and it is a stunning piece of art," you suggest.
Jake doesn't even take a moment to think it over before saying, "I love that idea."
So, you two are driving to the craft store to get cardboard and Mod Podge. A week later, the puzzle has been cemented and hung on the wall in between your and Jake's rooms upstairs. After the puzzle is finished, Jake is back into his sudoku and his various other reading books. He still lingers near you in the evenings, waiting longer than he used to before retreating to his room for bed.
One night almost a month after you two had finished the puzzle, Jake brings the subject up again. You two are lounging on the couch, he had just gotten home from watching the Army-Navy game at a bar with some of his friends, and he is definitely a little bit tipsy.
"I am going to build us a puzzle table," is the first thing he had loudly declared, walking in the door.
You were instantly worried about why Jake might want to start a new puzzle. "Is everything okay?"
Jake doesn't seem to hear you, though, as he continues on. "A really nice one that opens and closes with velvet or something so we don't have to worry about losing pieces, and maybe I can even make it an adjustable height?" He is talking to himself more than to you.
You watch as he grabs a notepad and pencil out of a drawer. Then he slumps on the couch. Before you know what's happening or can stop it, Jake has his head on your lap and is sketching design ideas, potential measurements, and materials.
"How are you doing?" you ask him again, staring down at his face, unable to contain your enamored smile. Jake just nods his head and keeps sketching while mumbling.
You run a hand through his soft hair tentatively. It is a bit longer than usual right now, almost out of regulation. He will need to get a haircut this week, but the strands are so soft, and you can't help but enjoy that there is a bit more there to run your fingers through. His eyes instantly close, and he hums contently at your touch.
"Hangman?" you ask him almost teasingly, halting your movements.
"Yes, sugar?"
"Are you okay?"
He blinks his eyes open and looks at you. Their gleaming sea glass green color is a little glazed over and so very soft. His mirth is open and obvious to you. "I'm so great. Navy won."
"That's great. Go Navy." A wide grin splits his face wide, and Jake's eyes actually crinkle closed, hiding their unique color from you again.
"That's right, Honey. Ooh ahh!" Jake responds automatically, making you both laugh, and maybe you had been drinking a little bit of wine before he came home; perhaps you were warm from that, or maybe Jake was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Your eyes lock with his, and your hands pull out of his hair. You let one drift trace his face helping him relax the furrow in his eyebrows.
"Why do you want to start a new puzzle?" You ask.
"No new puzzle. A new table." He corrects you. Jake taps his pencil on the notepad pointedly.
"For a new puzzle?"
"You liked doing a puzzle with me, right? Well, after the first bit, you liked it?"
"I loved it." The words slip out of your mouth before you can amend the sentiment to come off less forward.
"Me too,"Jake says and trails off for a moment. Then he continues asking, "So you would be open to doing another one with me? Just for fun this time, not my mental health." Jake doesn't say the last sentence with any bit of shame or embarrassment, which you admire. However, the vulnerability is obvious and glaring.
"Yeah," you confirm, once again having to run your fingers over his brow to relax his face.
"Perfect. I'm building the table, then. You can pick the puzzle this time."
You can't help but let your hands slip back into Jake's hair, and he returns to sketching on his notepad. It was a moment of quiet peace you knew you didn't ever want to let go of.
"Javy said that you don't like to do puzzles with other people, and that's what helps you pull out of the pit."
Jake's eyes don't leave his notepad, and he turns the page. You watch Jake start to scrawl the pros of a dovetail joint versus a dowel joint before he starts to draw it out as well. You almost don't think he will say anything back by the time he finally does.
"You aren't other people," Jake tells you, as he starts drawing in shading, which is completely unnecessary for anything beyond aesthetic. He bends the lines from a basic blueprint to a detailed drawing of a realistic table joint. It was distracting watching the engineer in him flow into the unexpected artist.
The idea that you ever had thought his talent for art and engineering were such radically different things was a bit funny. Now that you see him dance between the lines back and forth so elegantly that you understand it wasn't two competing sides of Jake. It was just him. It was how he worked and operated.
It was how he was Hangman and also Jake. It was how he could fill out sudoku then go to bed at 9 pm and how he could shoot pool until closing with the squad. It was how he was a cowboy and a pilot. It was how you wanted to cry a little bit, knowing he enjoyed you there, knowing you weren't like other people.
And you are struck with the thought that you don't ever want Jake to do a puzzle with anyone but you. You never want to see him sitting alone at three am with bloodshot eyes putting pieces into place again. And you don't even want to consider him explaining animatedly why he believes a piece goes in one color pile and not the one it was originally sorted to anyone but you.
You want to be selfish with Jake. You want to have him, and you want to keep him close, never letting go. Surely you could convince Jake to be yours. It was a selfish act that could be forgiven if you promised to cherish him. After all, there were worse things in the world than loving someone, so entirely the fact they might not love you to the same degree didn't hurt so much.
Jake flips to the next page in the notepad and starts to sketch out the living room. As he works, the living room table starts to look significantly different than your current one.
"Oh. It's for the living room?" You ask him.
At first, he just hums in response, but when he finishes rounding out a line, Jake lifts his pencil from the paper. It pauses there, poised and frozen, as he asks, "Do you want the dining table instead?"
"No." As you continue, the pencil falls back to the page, "It just wasn't what I was originally thinking."
"I could do a dining room table too. They could even be made of the same wood." Jake says. His green eyes broke from the page to glance up at your face for the first time in a while. He searches your face trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion.
"Two puzzle tables?"
"Think of all the possibilities. We could do two puzzles at once." Jake gasps. You kind of hate the excited timbre that Jake's voice picks up at the idea, but you actually mostly love it.
"Just one puzzle at a time, please." You say, giving his hair a teasing gentle tug, ignoring the sharp inhale of his breath that immediately follows. You refuse to give away the unexpected thrill sent straight through your body that settles at your core. You have to consciously make sure your words do not fall out rushed, "I think it would be nice to have out here, comfier."
"I thought the exact same thing."
"Oh really?" You ask, amused.
"Yes, Ma'am. I've got two words for you, puzzle naps."
You huff a small laugh at him and bite your lower lip. He flips back to his first page of notes, where he had a small list of wood. He adds cherry to his list after oak.
"Juniper is really pretty," you suggest. He immediately starts to write down your suggestion with a little heart next to it. When Jake starts to shade in the heart, you feel like the one in your chest might actually burst out. Something very similar to butterflies was fluttering around in you, but it is much less nervous and rather born of pure fondness.
"Sounds beautiful. I'm sure it's perfect," Jake tells you.
"Let's pick one together, though. It should be our choice."
"No," Jake says, drawing an elegant oval around juniper. Then he goes back and strikes a straight line through the other options. "No one else has ever remembered to double tap."
Jake spends a few more minutes detailing the design before his eyes start to get sleepy, and his pencil marks become light and halting. It doesn't take much from you to encourage him to go to bed, just a whispered suggestion.
He stumbles up from the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. Jake puts his notebook on the counter in the kitchen. After that, Jake circles back to press a second lingering kiss to your forehead. You watch him go all the way around the house to double check the locks, the front door, the garage, and the back door. Finally, after sending you two finger guns, Jake drags himself up the stairs, humming Anchors Aweigh.
"Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home!" You loudly hear him sing. You listen to Jake as he hums his fight song while randomly peppering in other lyrics. When you finally hear him close his door, your mind makes a decision on the war it's been having.
You are going to do whatever it takes for Jake Seresin to agree to be yours. Potential consequences be damned; Jake is worth the risk.
#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#jake seresin x you#Hangman imagine#Slow burn#Roley Coley's writing#part 1#Double tap#Hangman x you#house we share
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Discordant Waltz: Adrenaline (DLC Ver.)
Oh Sieun (Former IZ*ONE/Soloist Jo Yuri) & Male Reader
Categories/warnings: smut, clothed sex, oral, feet!, friends with benefits, doggystyle
Word count: 4.9k
| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon)
a/n: this is the alternate version with two added feet scenes! special thanks to @i-am-lifeform24 and @sooyadelicacies for tips on how to write this, and to @sumirhatos for beta reading~
“I don’t care where you are or what the fuck you’ve been doing this entire time. Just please come to the convenience store by the river and meet me.” Sieun's voice, you're sure it's Sieun's voice, is mixed with a garbled tone through the phone.
“Okay, but-” And the line cuts. You shuffle your cellphone defeatedly back into your pocket and start towards your newly-mandated meeting place.
You’ve only begun putting two and two together: The person you were just with wasn’t Sieun, even though she looks exactly like her. That person wasn’t like Sieun at all, especially not in the way the two of you had sex. It was so different, and the nagging feeling in the back of your head that something was wrong only grows clearer.
A blaring horn unfreezes you from the middle of the street. You step out of the way and onto the sidewalk, and the truck’s irate driver brings the hulking machine past your point in the road. You watch it drive off, leaving a cloud of dust behind its wheels, and for what seems like a minuscule amount of time, you unfreeze yourself off once more from staring at the now-settled dust on the asphalt.
It dawns on you: you’ve slept with the wrong woman. It wasn’t your Sieun you just had sex with. The girl you just fucked wasn’t the girl you were supposed to fuck. But no matter how you say it, no matter how many times you think it in your head, it just doesn’t make sense. How could that not have been Sieun?
The walk back towards the convenience store by the river is slow and quiet, but your mind races with these thoughts, calling for just more and more of your brainpower to stay conscious and on track towards your meeting place. Even though you’re sure the initial confusion has subsided, the effect still settles deep within every bone of your body: you fucked another woman besides Sieun.
Before you know it, your feet bring you to the convenience store by the river. Sieun’s eyes meet yours from inside through the window, and she motions you to come in faster. You pull the door open and a cool blast of air hits your face, and Sieun pulls you into the seat beside her.
She fights the noodles down her throat, and after a quick gasp, she starts: “Apologize for missing my calls later. Lemme finish this first, then we go over to your house.” She downs a swig of Mountain Dew and fights back the stinging acid running down her throat.
“My house? But-” she interrupts by bringing a chopstick to your lips. She sucks in air through her teeth, and finally goes back for more of her ramyeon. You note it’s the spicy kind as the heat coats your lips where her chopsticks touched.
“Please shut up while I’m eating. I’ll explain later.” She flashes you the dorky kind of smile that could nevertheless kill and returns to her ramyeon, paying you no further mind.
Despite being over budget, you pick out another six-pack of beer for the two of you and bring it to the registers. She eyes you from her seat by the window and gives you a thumbs up from there. You sigh and wonder how you landed someone as great as her. If only…
~~~
“Wow, nice place.” Sieun's eyes roam across your living room, from your sofa, to the TV, to the coffee table with its remote and mug filled with cold tea from this morning. “Quaint. I like it.
“ What the fuck does ‘quaint’ mean, Oh Sieun?” you tease. Bring an arm around her shoulder and pull her close, plant a kiss on her cheek.
“It just means quaint,” she sighs casually, leaning into your embrace, “no more, no less.”
Both of you take off your shoes and make your way to the sofa. You place the six-pack of beer on the coffee table as Sieun bounces on a sofa cushion, evidently having a good time. You shoot her a look, and you're stopped in your tracks by how her hair falls unerringly into place like it does. She smiles at you again, but you take a seat on the floor in front of her.
“What are you doing down there?” Her giggle rings clear as day as she says it. She picks up a can of beer and pulls on the tab, releasing carbon dioxide in a melodious fizz that eases the tension around you: tension you didn't know was there.
She hands you the beer and you take it carefully, for some reason trying not to mess up whatever it is your body is planning to do next. You feel the cold floor tiles against the palm of your hand, not nearly as cold as the beer in the other, before giving up on both and focusing on the imminent warmth that is Sieun's feet.
Set the beer down and grasp her soles through her cobalt blue socks. Find her muscles, tendons and nerves as you push and squeeze around her delicate feet. Wring out strangled sighs and shushed whimpers from Sieun’s lips.
“What the fuck are you doing…” Her breath hitches before continuing on unsteadily. She unravels, thread by thread, under the changing and shifting pressures you apply on her soles and toes, confusion vying to bubble up to the front of her mind but ultimately getting pushed back down by the attention you give her.
“What’s gotten into you, babe?” She giggles more as you manipulate her body the way you like, and yet you’re pulled into her intensifying orbit. Your… friend… leans forward and takes your cheeks in her hands. She pulls you towards her and kisses you, nibbling your lower lip at every careful squeeze you apply on her foot. Her tongue tries to push past your teeth, and for the first time in a long time, you find yourself hesitant.
“You… must be tired today. I thought I’d be nice.” You try to hide the uncertainty in your voice, choosing to divert her attention elsewhere. You strip her of her socks and toss them in the general direction of your shoes. Continue to rub her feet, and she pulls you in for another kiss.
This time, you accept. Her tongue slips past your teeth and you meet it with yours, swirling around each other as more of her sultry gasps drift out of her mouth. Sieun pulls you even closer, trying to take in more of you, before she runs out of breath and has to break away.
“Whew, that was hot,” your friend sighs as she leans back onto the backrest and breathes deep. Her head lolls back and she stares idly at the ceiling as she tries to catch her breath. “Where’d you learn that, huh, stud?”
Ignoring her, you continue to massage her. Moving from her soles and toes to the balls of her feet, your hands make their way to her heels, then her ankles, and up to her calves.
"Oh, I love how you think, babe." Your hands crawl up her smooth and creamy legs, and she flashes you a smirk. Sieun relaxes with a deep sigh and her eyes shut. Your friend's naughty smile is unsteady on her lips, victim to your sensual assault on her legs.
Stop momentarily, take a beer can from the table. You pull on the tab and release its own pent-up fizz and hand it to her, casually yet carefully. "Take a sip, baby. Let me take care of you."
She receives it with a tiny "thank you" and takes a sip. As you return to her massage, you watch her lips curl around the rim of the can, arousal growing as her tongue wipes over and collects the fluid left behind.
Your hands reach her hips and you grip resolutely. It catches her mid-sip, and it forces her to keep the beer in her mouth for a little while longer. Then, she makes a show of swallowing slowly and licking her lips after once more.
You slip your fingers under the waistband of her PE pants and pull down. With a little help from your friend lifting her hips off the couch, you successfully peel it all off of her smooth legs. She spreads them for you and you’re met with a pair of blue lace panties covering her crotch. The sight of them sends even more blood rushing into your dick, and your self-control dwindles in the face of her needy whines.
“I picked out a cute pair for you today… You like?” Sieun brings her knees up to her chest, letting her feet dangle in the air. She hooks her arms under her legs and starts biting her finger enticingly, communicating what she wants you to do next.
Remember the comfort that is Oh Sieun, how you just get each other so well, how there’s next to no guesswork when it comes to her. You pull her panties to the side, revealing a drenched pussy in need of some love. The sensation of the fabric leaving her core is exhilarating for her, but nothing excites her more compared to what’s coming. She braces herself as you bring your face closer, and finally you drag your tongue up against her clit.
You pepper kisses all over her crotch in between long drags between her puffy lips and dripping cunt. "Mmm, babe…" She leaks more in response, torn between wanting you to go faster and harder or slower and softer, bucking her hips but changing her mind. Her sweet nectar intoxicates you like a love potion, wanting more of it, more of her, that you tighten your grip on her waist and hold her steady to lap up more of her essence. The feeling of your hands imprinting on her sides drives her closer to the edge, and her moans grow in volume and intensity as you continue the hard, hard work of loving her to death.
“Stop… No, not yet… I’m really close, babe,” she whines powerlessly, not knowing the effect it has on you. “Please come up here, I need you…” She unhooks her arms from her legs and draws them outstretched to receive you. In return, you stand over her and make quick work of your belt. She takes the initiative of pulling down your pants once free, and your friend’s delicate fingers grasp your already rock-hard cock to stroke and marvel at.
“You want this, baby?” Your cock twitches between her fingers, telling her wordlessly that you want her just as bad. With Sieun, there’s no need to thrust into her hands: she knows you so well, she’s so devoted to your cock that she learned for herself how best to service you.
“Yes, please…” She brings it down and right against her fuckhole. She teases herself with it; it’s all she could do when you loom over her with authority. She rubs your head on her clit, showing you just how ready she is for you, before tracing the lips of her pussy and smearing her slick all over your tip. “Can I please have it?”
“Do what you have to do,” you command, and she heaves a sigh of arousal before doing her best job. Her hand slithers under her jacket and most probably under her bra again to pull out another condom. She tears it open with her teeth and, this time, places it on her lips. Sieun guides the rubber onto your tip and unrolls it onto your length using only her mouth, taking in more of your shaft as she does. She barely makes it all the way to your base, but a sudden bout of impatience hits her and she plunges herself onto you, taking you all the way and causing her to gag. You feel some of her spit drip onto your calf, so you stroke her hair and let her breathe.
“You’re adorable, you know that? Taking my dick like such a good girl…” Grab a fistful of her hair and slowly pull her off your cock, letting more of her spit fall from her lips to wherever. Her eyes are shut and tears form in the corners, but she doesn’t wipe them away.
You retake your place on the floor between her legs and point your attention back to her feet. You pick up her left foot and place a kiss on her big toe, causing her to moan long and deep. You continue moving, kissing her sole and the ball of her foot, and her toes flex in response to the pleasure. Finally, you take her other foot and suck on her toes, one by one, making sure to coat each one in your spit.
“Mmmh, please, more…” Your friend tries to push for more contact between your tongue and her toes, but you force her back under control. Bite down, hard, onto her pinky toe. Sh whimpers and ultimately submits.
“Behave, baby.” Your speech slurs as your tongue laps at every single crease and crevice you could find, never giving her a chance to catch her breath. It drives Sieun wild, and her pussy leaks even more of her slick onto the cushion she’s sitting on, and you find that she’s pushed a couple of her fingers into her needy cunt. Despite this, you pay her no mind and keep licking her sole and nibbling on her toes. Your mouth fills with the salty taste of her feet, and suddenly stopping is the most difficult thing in the world.
“Fuck, please… Shit!” She accidentally shoves more of her foot into your mouth, assaulting your tastebuds with her delicious musk. It’s overwhelming how good every part of her tastes, but you manage to regain control of yourself. Her toes are peppered with more small pecks that only cause her to leak more of her essence on her inner thighs and cushion.
“I can’t take it anymore… I need your cock, please!!!” She spreads her pussy lips to show you just how drenched she is. Her juices glisten all over her crotch and thighs, and her fingers tracing her fuckhole make her cunt quiver in anticipation for the pleasure you’ll bring. It’s enough to snap your attention right away to the task at hand.
You plant your hands on either side of her head on the backrest, still looming over her. She takes your cock in her hands again and aims it at her waiting entrance with a needy look in her eyes. “I can’t wait anymore, please?”
Of course you indulge her. Enter her heat carefully, feel her walls make way for your length. Her mouth forms an “o” as you push yourself further and further into your friend’s core, rubbing against all her good spots, drawing out gasps and little moans from her.
“Babe, your thick cock is so good, please…” Her legs twitch when you hit certain points, letting you know exactly how she likes it. Her toes curl with pleasure as she welcomes you deeper into her sex, just as she searches for your lips to steal kisses from in spite of her eyes that won’t open.
You pick up the pace, spearing into her core faster and faster, as her grip on your shoulders tightens with each of your thrusts. Her forehead starts to form small beads of sweat, as do her forearms and the insides of her thighs. She’s getting restless again, squirming under you as you fuck her, and you place your hands on her hips again to keep her steady, the naughty girl.
“Fuck, babe, please… Please!” She places her hand on the back of your neck to keep you close. Her eyes finally open and you see the fire within her pupils just begging to be doused. You can do nothing else but indulge her, and your friend grows wetter and tighter to accommodate her favorite cock. It only spurs you on further with how pliant, how willing Sieun is. Was she always like this?
On the other end of your mind, a gruesome memory resurfaces. Who was that girl? Why did she look exactly like Sieun? What was she doing in her house?
She pulls you in and captures your lips with hers. Your friend nibbles and licks and grunts throughout the kiss, aligned with every single one of your thrusts into her needy core, all the while trying to hold you tighter so she never lets you go.
Why did she let you in like that? Why did she let you kiss her then? Why is she letting you kiss her now?
“Fuck… Fucking shit! You feel so good inside me, please!!!” Her screams of pleasure snap you awake, and you’re met with the visual of Oh Sieun, your friend, staring blankly into your eyes as you use her tight little fuckhole mercilessly. Her tongue hangs out her mouth and drops of saliva leak down to her chin and onto her jacket. “Please… please babe, I need more…”
You get the message and give her what she wants. Pull out, only for a moment, and let her adjust. She flips over, plants her knees into the seat cushions, places her hands on the backrest. Sieun presents her plump ass to you, and she squeezes her thigh before spreading her legs again to show you her dripping, freshly fucked cunt.
As if hit with another dose of adrenaline, you shove your cock back into her soaked and quivering pussy, hard, causing her to yelp and scream. You grab her slim waist, feeling up her smooth skin just burning to be ravaged, and pull her towards you with every thrust, causing the sofa to creak and groan. However, it's nothing compared to the unholy noises forced out of Sieun's mouth; her lungs burn and her throat sores as she's subjected to more and more of your mind-numbing pleasure.
“I can't… I can't hold it! Babe, I'm cumming!!!” Her velvet walls clench and suffocate your cock, but it does nothing to slow your maniacal pace. Your rough-fucking of her pussy never stops, never slows, and despite the pain she undeniably feels with you abusing her body (you know how sick she is in the head), she nevertheless pushes back to meet your pelvis in what little efforts she could take to bring herself over the edge.
Your orgasm hits you like a train derailed, and despite your weakened state from earlier in the day, you deliver spurts and spurts of your warm cum into the rubber. She feels every twitch and throb of your cock inside her burning core, and it brings your friend over the edge too. Her hips convulse just as the first streaks of her girlcum spray out of her cunt, leaking more and more of her love juices onto the poor cushion underneath her with every jerk of her hips. She screams and wails her pleasure; surely she’s waking up with a sore throat tomorrow morning. For now, her teeth clamp down on the fabric of the backrest, the only thing she could reach with you keeping her firmly in place.
Your respective orgasms start to wind down, and you pull yourself out of her and let her collapse onto the sofa. Take your seat next to her, pick up your can of beer from the floor, lean back like a king. You take a sip, and the alcohol soothes your shot nerves and dry throat.
Sieun cuddles up next to you, leaning on your shoulder and draping one of her arms across your chest. You place your arm over her in response, and she melts again.
“Whew,” she sighs, out of breath and with a noticeably raspy voice, “that was great. Why don’t you fuck me like that all the time?” Her chest rises and falls with every tiny circle she draws on your chest, and you squeeze her closer to you. You’re drawn back into the comfort of just understanding each other, of not needing to explain, of just being you around your friend.
But once again, the guilt bubbles in your chest. You remember: you’ve slept with another woman not even a day earlier who looks exactly like her, and what’s worse, she even felt better than Sieun did. She let you sniff her hair, kiss her neck, fuck her ass. Are you really not going to tell her?
The guilt rises up your throat and drops into your stomach at the same time. It dawns on you again, this is your friend. Your friend, who you drank beer with on a Friday afternoon. Your friend, who begged you to use her like she was yours. Your friend, who keeps condoms in her bra for you and only you. Just friends, that’s all. Are you really not going to tell her?
Suddenly, your view is obscured by her eyes. You find Sieun on top of you, straddling you, as she takes your cheeks in her hands. Her hair falls to her cheeks as she positions her face above yours, and she plants wet kisses and licks on your lips.
“Thanks for today, babe,” she says between smooches. Your hands drift towards her hips again, and once you grasp them, she breathes out slowly and sensually. She breaks the kiss for a bit, but she keeps her forehead on yours. “If you’re trying to tempt me,” she runs her thumbs on your cheekbones, “then it’s working. But not right now, I’m spent.” Her giggles make their way into your ears again, and her gravity strengthens its pull on you once more.
You check the time and find it’s late, much too late for a lady like her to be out alone on a night like this. Wrap your arms around her waist tight, secure the woman of your dreams in your embrace forever. However, you know time is running out and the guilt will only root deeper into your system and eat you alive if you don’t pull it out soon; pull it out now.
“Do you wanna bring this over to the bed?” You try your hardest to be casual about the question, but the way it comes out, shaky and tentatively-toned, makes it anything but. Still, she finds it cute, evidenced by the small giggle that escapes her.
“Sorry, gotta be fair. I kick you out every week, don't I?” Oh Sieun stands up quickly and without any hint of dizziness, landing on her feet gracefully. What’s left of her slick runs down her creamy thighs and the moment you snap yourself out of staring at the lewd sight, you notice she was staring too.
“I need your shower and a towel, never mind if it’s used.” She makes her own way into your shower, but not before opening every closed door and flipping every light switch she could find. Once she finds the bathroom, her head peeks out from inside, and she calls at you:
“Leave the towel and my clothes by the door, I’ll get them when I’m done.”
The door shuts loudly, and you realize you failed. Without much else to do, you gather her things in your arms sullenly and drop them by the door like she asked. You take your seat back on the couch and ultimately resolve to turn the beer in the can into beer in your stomach.
~~~
Oh Sieun exits the bathroom clad in her perennial PE jacket and jogging pants, with the added twist of your towel wrapped around her hair. It’s the first time you’ve had her like this: squeaky clean, sweet-scented, relaxed like you didn’t just rail each other to oblivion. She’s beautiful, and you can’t even bring yourself to tell her.
“Hey, what’s the address here? I need a taxi.” She plops herself down next to you on the sofa and brings her legs over on your lap. Half of you regrets forgetting to put on pants, while the other half starts to get ideas.
You reach out your hand to take her phone, but while Sieun leans over to give it to you, she notices your cock starting to harden once more. “Something’s up with you today, babe.” The phone makes its way from her hand to yours, and she gets an irresistibly naughty look in her eye again.
Your friend takes your cock in between her bare soles. You feel the damp skin of her feet rub against your growing shaft while you type in your address and book her cab for her.
“Is this gonna be a regular thing with us? Because,” you look over to her and find her leaning on the armrest with her head leaning on her hand, “I dunno. I could get used to this.”
“Could be if you want it to, Sieun.” You hand her back her phone, and she sees the cab on the map, only six minutes away. “I’d rather you not start something you’re not gonna finish, though.”
“Wow, Mister Bigshot. Challenge fucking accepted.” She speeds up her footjob, bringing her toes into the mix as well. You groan at every point of contact between your cock and the creases of her feet, and you can tell she’s enjoying it too. “Maybe I took that shower too early…”
You take her feet in her hands and fuck them properly. She moans in response, and she spreads her knees apart and shoves a hand into her pants. You try matching each other’s paces, and with four minutes to spare, you try to go faster and faster.
“Why is it I’m so weak when it comes to you, huh?” Your grunts punctuate every word you utter while you rub your cock on her feet. She tries forming a reply, but the feeling of you just using her messes with her mind and makes her forget everything else but you.
“Shit… shit! Let me suck your cock!” Sieun pulls her feet away and positions her face over your lap. She hurriedly takes half your length straight into her warm, wet mouth, and her tongue glides and rubs all over your shaft wherever and as far as she could reach. You grab her head and force it down to take more of you in, and her hips buck onto her hand the moment you feel yourself hit the back of her throat.
You keep her there for a while, and she never ever stops running her lewd tongue over your dick. The sounds and vibrations coming from her mouth only spur you on further, as does the sight of her fingering herself under her pants just for you.
Just to tease her more, you take her phone and show it to her: one more minute. She tries even harder to suck you off, hollowing out her cheeks and going wild with her tongue. Her moans grow deeper and louder to match yours, and the vibrations that reach your rock-hard cock drive you close to the edge.
“Baby, I’m close… Take my fucking seed in your mouth!” You pull her head down as far as she can go, and amidst gags and glucks your friend never tries pulling herself off, instead choosing to be a good girl and receive everything that’s for her and her alone. Your warm cum shoots into her throat, and despite her gags she never lets up or lets go of your cock between her lips.
Her phone suddenly rings, no doubt the taxi calling to say he’s at the pickup point, and in the closest of calls your spurts come to an end. Sieun raises her head and shows you how much of your seed she collected on her tongue with a smile, and she makes a show of swallowing it all for you.
She gets up and makes for the door, but when you try to follow her out you find your legs are jelly. Instead, she leans over and plants a kiss on your cheek, and as she walks off you hear the sound of your front door creaking opening and shutting quickly.
~~~
a/n: wow wild ride writing this LMAOOO this took a while what with hiatus and all but overall im pretty cool w how it turned out, this also isnt one of my kink personally like noona was but nevertheless still very fun! stay tuned for the next :)))
| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon)
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Eddie Munson Masterlist - Skyfall8600
Hi! So my main Masterlist was getting a little crowded, so I have decided to create master lists navigations based on each character I write for.
Main Masterlist
Smut ❤️
Dad!Eddie 💖
Taglist requests (EDDIE) - issues often occur with tags, with some people not getting notified. If you like a story, please like, reblog and follow me to stay up to date with more!
Please reblog if you like my work. Tumblr only uses “likes” as bookmarks, thank you 🌟❤️
Sucked In Series: Completed
Summary: You wake up in the world of Stranger Things before the events of Season 4. Are you able to help in the fight against Vecna, and save the man of your dreams?
Series Masterlist
Summoned
Summary: On Halloween, you and your friends decide to have some fun. After buying a few witch and craft items, you each pretend to summon a fictional character of your choosing. No one succeeds, besides you… and thus, Eddie Munson was welcomed into our world.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Parent Trap 💖 (Completed)
Masterlist
Twelve Days of Christmas
Day 1 out now! . Click here for series Masterlist
One shots
Lost in the Woods
The Metallica Challenge
Little Munson 💖
Pretty Hero (Part 2)
Like a Painkiller ❤️
Dancing on our own
Body shaking ❤️
In Your Eyes
Rock ‘N Roll Cheer ❤️
Mr. Handyman (coming soon…)
Requests
New Scene
Tea Party for Two 💖
First Mother’s Day 💖
Birthday Pictures 💖
Secret Letter (Angst)
Forever isn’t long enough
By Your Side
On the Rocks ❤️
Happy together
#eddie munson masterlist#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson
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Bestie, please i need you to write something for Logan x pierce 🥺 I'm so fucking happy you're getting into Boyd's stuff
Bestie I want to desperately but I haven't even seen the movie all I know about it is from Tumblr gifsets thanks to @conradrasputin who got me hooked on the whore that is Donald Pierce. But that doesn't mean I don't already have fic ideas...
1. I feel like it's mandatory to write a good nasty smut where Pierce uses that lovely robotic hand of his to pleasure himself, he fixes it up on his own to have a nice vibrating function that he can abuse his prostate with with a special elastic glove covering the cold metal skeleton. He's in the middle of fingering his brains out and twisting his nipple piercings with his other hand (because of course a whore like him has nipple piercings and a tongue piercing) when some lower rank henchman coworker of his walks in on him. Pierce at first tries to angrily dismiss the dumb hunk of muscle but then figures he may be of some help and uses him as his own personal dildo but the guy finishes too quickly inside him, leaving Pierce unsatisfied until he notices the other henchmen peeking through the door to jack off to the sight. Pierce invites them all in to find out how much they can satisfy him.
2. I also want to write of course a fic where Pierce uses X-24 as his personal guard dog/favorite dildo because he loves his men rough and X-24 has been the most perfectly brutal animalistic bedpartner he ever had; besides that he always wanted a dog. He puts a collar and sometimes a leash on X-24 and pets his head or scratches under his jawline when his perfect beast does something well and he rewards him by bending over for a fuck or giving him a blowjob. He can't stop moaning "Come on, boy, ah that's it, good boy, fuck me hard, good boy," as X-24 ruts into him and then he lets the beast cuddle him close as a reward and lick and groom him like he'd with a mate. After a while Pierce barely has to give any verbal orders he can just snap his fingers and X-24 knows what he wants which is either sex or kill. X-24 also starts protecting him on his own instinct, Pierce could be in a sticky situation and X-24 drops everything to save him instead of listening to the given order. Pierce finds the misbehavior troublesome but he can't help but call his beast a good boy when he carries him out covered in wounds that'd kill a normal man.
3. Speaking of X-24, I definitely want a fic where Pierce already has an established master-dildodog relationship with him and Pierce manages to capture Logan who he's obsessed with. I want a scene of Pierce tracing his hands along Logan's thighs who can't do anything about it because he's tightly bound meanwhile Pierce muses how damn familiar Logan is even if Logan doesn't know just how well Pierce knows his body. "I know the exact shape and size of your cock, how you like it sucked, and what your weaknesses are. Like when I do this," and he licks at the shell of Logan's ear and bites it just hard enough and Logan trembles into it, his cock stirring involuntarily and Pierce continues with a pleased humm "you'll instantly get turned on. I also know you're a cuddly one after sex, quite keen on marking your territory." And Logan has no idea how Pierce would know such private informations until X-24 prowls in and bumps his head against his master in an affectionate gesture while glowering at Logan himself, seeing him as a damn challenger. But Pierce doesn't want them fighting he wants them working together to give him pleasure and an incredibly twisted threesome occurs where Pierce gets dpd and spitroasted to hell and back.
4. It wouldn't be me if I didn't want an omegaverse au where Pierce while still a mercenary is an omega who volunteers to carry Logan's kids next to the cloning plan to get little supersoldiers from his DNA. Logan is captured and gets rut enducing drugs injected into him when Pierce quits his suppressants to induce heat in himself. No matter how bad Logan hated the guy, an alpha in rut only sees a beautiful omega in heat ready for a good breeding in Pierce at that moment and all forms of restraining are useless as they couple like feral dogs in the allocated cell. Their breeding lasts for a whole week and by the end of it Pierce is not only knocked up with a full litter but also got claimed by Logan, both of them too lost in passion at that time to care but now months later Pierce is actually annoyed by it because his instincts make him crave his mate and the thought of giving his babies away for science experiments seem less and less appealing. He gets almost daily doctor's check ups to see the progress in his womb and is allowed a weekly meeting with Logan to keep the omega in him happy because a happy omega is a healthy fetus. Logan despite himself also develops strong feelings to protect Pierce and their babies and they end up escaping together before the babies are born to raise them in a remote cabin after killing off the people working for the evil organization. I'm a sucker for domestic endings like this
5. Because he's serving LDR trailer Park hooker vibes I desperately want to create a fic (with or without the powers) where it's like current regular times and Donald Pierce hooks up with this sexy gruff older stranger Logan at a gas station toilet and its so incredibly hot both of them are shaken by it (Pierce acts like a tough guy until he's getting his face fucked against the grimy toilet stall door and then bends over the sink to get his ass resized) but they both know it must stay a one time thing. Until they end up seeing each other not two days later at the same cheap motel they're both coincidentally staying at and they tumble into Pierce's room for hot nasty sex (but before that Logan rushes back to his own room for five minutes saying that uh he left his condoms there which is weird because Pierce says he can just use his own and then Logan ends up not even using any condoms and just pumps him full of cum) and Pierce is honestly above the clouds enough that he offers Logan the chance to sleep over which he's never done with a random hookup before but Logan declines and retires to his own room leaving Pierce cold and confused. The next day Pierce sees Logan pack his car and take off and decides to follow him instead of going on his work related trip. He stops not short from where Logan stops and goes into the Diner they stopped in front of first so it doesn't seem like it's Pierce who's following him, taking a seat at the bar and pointedly not paying attention when he hears people come in behind him. He sucks on his strawberry milkshake and eats his fries putting them on his tongue one by one with carefully practiced casual sluttyness while reading his work texts on his phone, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically as he feels a particular pair of eyes on him and when he slips out of his seat and heads for the men's room he doesn't even need to wait to hear the steps to know Logan will follow. Which he does, bless his heart, and Pierce gives a coy "I'm starting to think you're following me," before he gets pushed out on the back exit and gets ravished against the wall in the alley behind the diner. The fuck is hard and rough and fast and everything Pierce needs to cum his brains out but after it's done and he chuckles "mmm you should've bought me dinner first," Logan huffs that he doesn't think that's a good idea before going back in the diner leaving the younger man alone. Pierce doesn't get why Logan wouldn't want to hang out after they've had such glorious sex not once but three times but when he goes back he does quickly realize because Logan's small daughter is munching down on a big burger right across from him and he's doing his best not to look at Pierce paying his tab and leaving. Pierce sits in his car silently smoking and watching Logan and his daughter Finnish their meal, waiting for what Pierce assumes would be his wife to come by the table as well but she never does and the two of them leave on their own. Should Pierce keep following and trying to pursue a single dad on a road trip with his daughter just for the sake of some splendid dick and end up learning how to be a good stepmommy just so he can date said single dad? Maybe not, but Donald Pierce loves bad ideas.
6. that being said I do want a fic where Logan and Pierce are in the beginning of their relationship and Pierce has to try to deal with the fact that he not only has a new man but with that comes an unexpected new stepdaughter and how difficult it is to maneuver around their kid for fun sexy times. Its maddening how Logan doesn't want to fuck him over the kitchen counter or table because his daughter eats there or how he must keep his moans muffled into the pillow so Laura won't hear or how they can't do any flirting around Laura as if that'd do her any harm. Don't get him wrong he gets along with Laura well enough but her dad is just far too overly protective and Pierce just wants to get dicked the fuck down!!! This could also be an omegaverse where Pierce wants Logan to breed him already buy Logan is afraid Laura might feel less important if they start having babies now and Pierce is outraged by that. He needs his eggs cracked and his name dropped. That means he wants to have babies and get married NOW you old fuck come on!
7. I know the prev few seem like long multichapter fics but I also want a nice short smut shot based on the knowledge that Logan is supposed to be a limo driver in that movie as a job, and hearing that I immediately came up with a no powers au where Logan gets hired by Pierce's boss as personal limo driver only the boss himself barely ever uses said limo and instead it's Pierce taking high profile clients and business partners out for fine dining or exclusive clubs or just plain old serving champagne in the limo while Pierce whores himself out to different men like five times a week and Logan has front row seats to watch as Pierce sucks on the cock of the client of the day or rides a business partner for some deal his boss needs. Pierce quickly catches on that the hot limo driver likes to watch and makes sure to put on a good show for him. One night when Logan is supposed to pick up Pierce and another client from the club only Pierce gets in the car, clearly irritated and wearing his sunglasses but those don't cover the split lip he's got as he grumbles for Logan to take him home. Logan hears as Pierce calls up his boss and tells him he couldn't secure the deal which results in a lot of yelling on the other end of the phone but Pierce just looks tired as he mumbles his apologies, nothing like his usual cocky self. Pierce asks Logan to park in the garage and then come up to his apartment if he wants a bonus and Logan is mad enough to comply and give Pierce what he needs; a good hard fuck to calm him down and then a sweet and gentle one he's too tired to resist against to make him fall asleep. For such a tough nasty guy he sure loves to cuddle in his sleep.
#and these are just from the top of my head#im insane i know#logan x donald#donald pierce#my ficlet#ask rambles
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being a hero isn't free : eddie munson x gn! reader
summary: eddie gets into a fight with jason to protect you but he breaks his finger so he can't play guitar for a while </3 so he teaches you to play :]
[warnings: bullying, use of 'queer' as an insult, h0mophobia, swearing, violence]
note: this is my first time writing a fanfic in a WHILE- might be trash so i sincerely apologise
1.3k words
"oi, freak!"
you spin around to the yell from behind you, wondering if it was directed at you-- which was honestly stupid, who else was a freak in this godforsaken new school? nobody.
you lock eyes with a tall, blonde and blue eyed guy in a varsity jacket, leaning on a locker and staring you down like a wolf would its prey.
"can i help you?"
he rolls his eyes and treads closer to your slightly trembling body, towering over you with his menacing aura crawling under your skin, making you shiver in fear.
in a flash, the jock is pinning you against the locker (and not in a good way), hands trapping you from running like hell out of there.
"where did you transfer from?"
"new york, what's it to you, blondie?"
"first off, it's jason. jason carver, remember it, freak. new york, huh? knew it, i can smell the queer from here. now fuck off before you spread that shit."
you squeeze your eyes shut as you see him lift his hand, and wait for the impact.
but it never comes.
you peek to see why the entire hallway began screaming out of nowhere, and open your eyes to a scene that you definitely did NOT expect on your first day--
a long haired, denim-clad, pretty boy knocking the jock to the ground, successfully landing a punch to his defined cheekbones, chunky silver rings bruising them instantly.
you don't know who your saviour is, but damn, he's hot.
his victory is short lasted though, because you blink and suddenly this 'jason' is crouching with one hand pressing down the brave guy's back, where you spot a dio (HOLY SHIT HE LISTENS TO DIO??!?!) back patch under the jock's grip, and his ring-bearing hand being crushed under his white shoe.
"STOP IT! LET GO OF HIM!"
"what are you gonna do about it, little sheep? fight me? hah."
your eyes well up with tears as you hear the guy under jason whimpering in pain, begging him to stop before he breaks his fingers.
a sickening "crack" echoes through the now-silent hallway, the Dio man in hysterics, rambling something about a guitar through sobs. you rush to his side as soon as jason leaves, the rest of the school walking away behind him.
"hey dude, you really didn't have to do that, why would you- holy shit that looks horrible, gotta get you to a hospital-"
the guy who saved you looks up at you, and your heart stops for a good three seconds--
he's gorgeous.
big, black puppy eyes stare up at you, a layer of tears coating them, so tragically beautiful.
you slip your arms under his, and heave the sobbing mess of limbs up, stumbling a bit under the weight, but managing to drag him to your car.
by the time you reach the car, he's calmed down a bit, the sobbing decreased to an occasional sniffle, him holding the injured hand close to his chest and down looking at it dejectedly.
"hey, what's your name?"
"ed- eddie munson. you?"
"y/n"
"nice to meet you, y/n. this isn't the ideal way of meeting a gorgeous person like you, but here we are."
"dude- i cannot thank you enough, if it wasn't for you i'd get a black eye on my first day in this place."
"first day?! man, i really gotta kill carver now."
"maybe hold that off for a bit, yeah? i'm gonna take you to the hospital now, if thats alright."
"yes please. ahh shit, this sucks, i have a show tomorrow."
"show?"
"guitar. something you need your left hand to play."
"oh shit. shit shit shit i'm so sorry-"
"it's alright, nobody even listens to us anyways."
"i would."
eddie looks up at you with those goddamn puppy dog eyes again, a small smile on his pretty face as he asked if you were serious, to which you smiled and pushed the "ride the lightning" by metallica cassette into the car player, hearing him scream when the first note of "escape" plays, which is where you paused it last.
"HOLY SHIT!! YOU LISTEN TO METALLICA?"
"yeah.. not just that though. i fuckin' love metal."
you catch eddie's eyes widening even further from your peripheral vision, seeing him grinning like a fool as you smirk slightly.
maybe this school isn't so bad after all.
after the hospital visit, where it is determined that eddie broke his pointer, middle and ring finger, his hand cast in a chunky white plaster till his wrist which wasn't to come off for three months. he had instructed you to drive to his house, not making eye contact with you the entire time.
safe to say he was devastated.
and you were extremely guilty.
"is there ANYTHING i can do for you?"
"...well, there is one thing."
"name it."
"let me teach you to play guitar, please. i can't stand watch Sweetheart sit there unused, collecting dust for three months."
"oh shit, that's your request? i've always wanted to learn guitar... you're the one doing me a favour here."
eddie giggles and punches the air happily, making you laugh as well.
upon reaching his trailer, you follow him to his room, jaw dropping to the floor when you take it in. all the posters of the bands you love, the little trinkets stashed atop the cabinets, the scattered dungeons and dragons brainstorming sheets on the bed--
you were gone. head over heels, even.
"like what you see?"
"i love it."
he took down the magnificent guitar off the wall and placed it in your hands.
"she's all yours now. come, i'll show you the basics"
eddie guides you onto the bed and helps position the guitar properly, maneuvering your hand to the basic major and power chords, you got them all to sound except the F chord, which was frustrating despite his reassurances that nobody gets it on the first try.
he taught you how to play the power chords of "rock you like a hurricane" by the scorpions, which was surprisingly easy.
upon finishing the song, you flung your body backwards onto the bed, stretching your sore back.
"so, do you like it"
"i love it, its so much fun. you're an incredible teacher, eds- eddie."
"...did you just call me eds?"
you giggle and slide off the bed, hiding in a way that only your eyes peek out from above the mattress:
"no... hehe"
your eyes trail over to the desk, where you grab a pen and hoist yourself back onto the bed.
"gimme your hand. no, the other one."
eddie places his casted hand in your awaiting one with a confused look as you uncap the pen and begin to scribble away at his cast, chewing on your bottom lip in the process.
five minutes later, you proudly place his hand in front of his face, showing off your masterpiece:
"eddie munson: my hero :)"
was the text under an impressively resemblant sketch of eddie in a knight outfit, a doodle stretching from his casted knuckle to his wrist.
eddie admired it for a good minute, his eyes filled with stars as he analysed the details of your sketch, eventually breaking the awkward silence with a loud "AT YOUR SERVICE!", and a knightly pose which made you both giggle, no matter how much he tried to keep a straight face.
and just like that, with daily guitar lessons at eddie's trailer after school, the two of you became friends, maybe even more (however that was never discussed properly), and the three months flew by, by the end of which he could finally play his beloved "Sweetheart" again. by that time, you had become quite good yourself, which prompted you to invest in a "Darling" of your own, which was the exact colour compliment to his-- red with black cracks.
the two of you were perfect for one another, and by the time you both successfully graduated, the two of you became inseparable.
the freaks gotta stick together, right?
thank you for reading if you did ! please leave requests if you want, its 2am rn so its probably gonna look like flaming hot shit to me tmr morning but aaaanywaaays hope u liked it maybe
(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x gn reader#gender neutral fanfic#i love eddie munson#fuck jason all my homies hate jason
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The way I audibly gasped in excitement when I saw sentence starters were open LOL
I know you're probably going to get a tooon of reqs for MHA, but if I might be so bold as to be one of them, I'd love "Not in front of them!" with ShinDeku bc I miss those boys <3
Otherwise I also think it would be super cute to see "Come on, where's that smile?" with platonic ler Asta and lee Yuno ^^
Your writing is always amazingly cute so I can't wait to see what you come up with for everyone!! ^^
ajreajrkekjaekj You're so sweet friend! Thank you :D Because it's you, and because I'm unable to ever just pick one when it comes to pairings and fandoms I love, I'm doing both! This one will be the ShinDeku! I hope you like it! :3
“Izuku, please!” Shinsou yelped when he felt his boyfriend’s fingers press into his ribs, soft giggles threatening to expose them. “Not in front of them!”
“It’s alright- we’re in the back for a reason!” Midoriya teased, eyes glinting with mischief. “Besides, it’s a comedy!”
It was the weekend, and Class 1-A (and Shinsou) decided to celebrate it as a group by going to the movies. Popcorn was bought, weird candy combinations were declared, and most of the students had opted to migrate to the front of the theater for the best view. Midoriya had suggested the pair stay more towards the back, a suggestion the purple haired student didn’t think too deeply about.
He should have known Midoriya was up to no good.
“Stiihihihil! Whahhahat if they hehehar us?” He got out around his giggles, clamping a hand over his mouth when the green haired student squeezed a particularly bad spot on his waist.
“Kacchan and Kirishima are making out, Mina and Denki are in the world’s quietest food fight, and Aizawa Sensei is already asleep.” Midoriya told him casually. “I don’t think we need to worry about it too much.”
Shinsou gaped at him, sitting up in his seat to confirm what his boyfriend told him. This was a mistake. Midoriya took advantage and snuck a hand between his back and the chair, spidering his fingers along his spine.
Shinsou squawked with laughter- the sound drowned out by the rest of the class when the characters in the movie fell into a river. He pressed his back into the chair, grabbing his boyfriend’s arm with an annoyed look. “Yohoohohu suck!”
Midoriya was shaking with mirth, head pressed into Shinsou’s shoulder as he laughed himself silly. “I-pfft! I plahhahahhahnned it perfectly!” He cackled. Shinsou squirmed with a huff of laughter as he felt the other’s hair brush against his neck. Fine, if that’s the way he wanted to play…
He waited until the buildup to another funny scene was upon them before darting his hands out and pinching Midoriya’s hips, the green haired hero’s squeak of laughter mixing once again with the people around them. “Yohohohu wanna play? Fine!” Shinsou grinned at the growing blush painting Midoriya’s face. “Game on, babe!”
Send me a sentence starter!
#sentence starters#mha/bnha#hitoshi shinsou#izuku midoriya#shindeku#tickle#tickle dabble#I love these two holy gods
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Mr. Handsy {Clyde Logan x wife!Reader}
@icarusinthesea :
Okay, okay. I think I've thought of something. Eh, it's a mediocre idea, but it does it for me. Fighting with Clyde followed by sweet, hot, nasty make up sex. I can not think of anything else. But whatever you write I'll love. 🥰
author’s notes: hello, hello! writers block has been hitting HARDCORE as of late, which is kind of a bummer, but luckily I’m feeling a bit better now! @icarusinthesea thank you for this request!! I hope it was worth the (very long) wait, and I send love to you, friend <3 <3
warnings: fluff. smut. club brawls. violence against an asshole. protectiveness. dom!Clyde. oral sex (m receiving). rough sex. unprotected sex/creampie.
(possible) tw’s: non-con touching (not by Clyde). physical conflict. sex in a public restroom.
word count: 1.9k
my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie @einmal-im-traum @charliesahottie @gotham-city-uber-driver @gildedstarlight @slytheriin2002
clyde’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings @icarusinthesea @lumdelacour @readingreaver @eagerforhoney @trubluepensfan @beachwoodmonet
if you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, the sign up is linked here and can also be found in my description :)
You had a bad feeling about this place from the very beginning, from the moment you stepped into this stupid sleazy club for your co-worker’s birthday.
Clyde decided to tag along, mainly to hang out with the other poor guys whose wives dragged them along tonight.
The bass pulses your eardrums as you make your way over to the booth that they’d claimed, saying some very loud ‘hi’s’ and ‘hello’s’ to everyone before taking a seat on Clyde’s lap.
Your outfit certainly matches the locale of tonight’s party, sexy and risqué while maintaining at least some coverage and dignity for your larger areas. Clyde’s been having some trouble keeping his eyes, and now that he can, his hands, off you.
His calloused flesh hand runs over your thigh and hip in a soothing manner, mindless in its movements over your exposed skin.
Soon, a good dancing song comes on and no matter how much you try to beg Clyde to join you on the crowded floor, he refuses, insisting that you go have some fun with your friends.
His eyes keep a close watch on you, knowing that unfortunately, it’s highly likely that some bonehead Joe will come along and think he can touch without permission.
He finds himself in a sort of entranced state, watching the way your hips move when you dance, watches your skin bounce and jiggle with each motion, sees the way the multicolored lights bounce off the sequins on your dress…
Sure enough, said bonehead Joe dances his way over to you, not-so-subtly checking you out from a bit of a distance before making his approach.
Clyde almost instantly leaps into action when his hand touches your hip and he slides in behind you. Thinking that the man behind you is Clyde, you start grinding against him a bit more, smirking.
But, only after a second or two, his motions and touch begin to feel awfully foreign. You’ve just truly begun to doubt your dancing partner’s identity when he leans down to whisper in your ear.
“Keep dancing like this and I’ll just have to take you home, babygirl.”
Goosebumps form on your skin in disgust the moment you hear an unfamiliar voice, yanking away from his grubby grip.
“How dar—“
“Hey, you!”
Your eyes widen and you look around the man to see a very angry-looking Clyde storming his way over to where you’re standing.
He turns the handsy man around with a hand on his shoulder, then gives him a shove.
“Can’t ya see she’s married, asshole? Don’t you ever think ya can just go ‘round here, touchin’ what ain’t yours.”
“Cly—“
“Don’t ya even start with me right now, Y/N. I can’t believe ya didn’t stop ‘im, can’t believe ye kept grindin’ against ‘im.”
Your eyes widen.
“Clyde, p-please, it’s not like tha—“
“I thought I told ya t’ can it, Y/N.”
You shudder at his commanding and harsh tone, immediately backing down and biting your lip as the tears swell in your eyes.
The man wears a small smirk, giving Clyde an equally rough shove backwards.
“And what, you’re telling me she’s yours? Bullshit she is. Who’d ever wanna marry a one-armed redneck like you?”
Big mistake. Clyde used to just stand down and shut off whenever someone made fun of his disability, but usually now, he just gets fucking pissed.
Sure enough, his jaw clenches and he quickly lunges at Mr. Handsy, forcefully knocking him to the scuffed dance floor. Often times, mostly due to his kind and gentle demeanor, you forget that Clyde’s a veteran. A special ops veteran, at that.
You can’t deny that bearing witness to his unbridled anger and dominance isn’t at least a little bit sexy, even if you do feel incredibly guilty about not realizing sooner that it wasn’t Clyde.
Like the coward he truly is, and that many men like him are, he flees the scene quickly when he looks up and sees the anger in Clyde’s eyes.
Meanwhile, you instantly rush up to him, apologizing repeatedly.
“Clyde, I’m so sorry, I thought it was you and I didn’t mean to—“
He snatches your wrist, bending down so that his hot, slightly strained breath wafts across your face.
“You’d better yer slutty ass into the restroom right fuckin’ now.”
He growls, letting you go.
You nod, whimpering under your breath as you scurry off into the bathroom.
He follows after you, pushing you into the single stall before reaching around to lock the door.
“Clyde, please, I’m so sorry. I promise that I didn’t know it wasn’t you until he spoke and I pulled away right after that. I would never…”
He holds a hand up and you trail off, then crosses it back over his chest along with the other. When you look up at him, ready to apologize further, he gives you a subtle head shake and a faint smile.
“Get m’ cock out.”
You know, then, that he’s not mad, and you know exactly what he wants from you. You step up to him with a small smirk and pop the button on his Levi’s, pulling the zipper down before reaching in to fish out his half-hard length.
“Now stroke it. You know how I like it.”
Your hand holds a steady grip around the protrusion, starting off slow but quickening randomly, just as he likes it.
His head tilts back onto the cheap tiled wall, nostrils flaring as he exhales shakily.
“Thaaaaat’s m’ girl, just like that.”
You speed up just a bit, focusing your pressure and ministrations on the upper half of his shaft, moving the little bit of excess skin up and down his shiny pink head.
“Mmmmffhhh.”
He groans through pursed lips, hips rutting forward into your touch.
Suddenly, he pushes your hand away, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to cope with the sudden loss of stimulation on his pulsing arousal.
“Knees.”
You get onto your knees, using his shoes as cushioning.
“Mouth open.”
Your jaw falls open and he wastes no time in moving himself into proper position, sheathing himself fully in your mouth.
“Ghhhohhh, s-shit.”
You’re choking right off the bat, shoulders shaking with each violent cough.
“Yeah, take it. Gon’ make ye choke on me, shove m’ cock down yer lil throat ‘till ya can’t breathe no more.”
You somehow manage to moan around him in between your gags and coughs, lungs panicked for the rough cutoff of airflow by Clyde’s length. Tears begin to swell in your eyes, soon running down your cheeks.
His eyebrows are tightly knitted in the center of his forehead, skin glistening with the beginnings of sweat as his hips rut into your cavern even quicker and rougher now.
Clyde has to physically pull himself away from your mouth, shuddering as his cock bobs and throbs angrily at the loss of friction. His hand splays out on the wall, chest heaving as he takes a moment to re-gain composure.
Then, he looks down at you, gaze sizzling your very skin.
“Up. Turn yerself ‘round n’ bend over, ass out n’ legs spread nicely.”
You put yourself into the position, wiggling your ass just a bit for play after pushing your jean shorts down, earning you a harsh smack across your newly-exposed skin. He smirks when you squeal softly, giving himself a few lazy strokes as he steps up behind you, lips instantly attacking your neck.
“Yer gon’ walk outta ‘ere with all o’ my marks on your neck, hickeys n’ bite marks. Maybe then everyone’ll understand who it is ya belong t’."
His chin digs into your shoulder, then he’s thrusting forward, filling you up and stretching you out to the max. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.
“Ohhhhh.”
He groans into your ear, chin digging into your shoulder as he begins fucking you fast and hard. There’s nothing gentle or romantic about this union; it’s hunger and wanting, it’s pure carnal lust.
Tears quickly swell up in your eyes at the sweet pleasure currently surging through your body, tickling every nerve ending and igniting every pleasure center.
It’s humid in the club, the bathroom no exception and already, a sheen of sweat has formed on the surface of your skin. Clyde’s good hand takes an even firmer hold on the meat of your hips, hips thrusting at an impossibly fast pace.
“G’damnit, wrapped ‘round m-me so tight, fffuck Y/N. Such a lil’ cccunt, love shovin’ m’ b-big cock in ya, ssssplittin’ ya right in half--christ.”
You love how his accent gets thicker and thicker at times like this, so much so that sometimes you can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. It’s adorable.
“Mmm, C-Clyde! Please baby, please mmmake me cum!”
His lips latch onto the side of your neck, sucking as hard as they possibly can while he reaches around to rub your clit with the cool metal digits of his prosthetic.
Your hips instantly grind down on him, a shaky gasp leaving your lips.
“Ohh god, mmmmmfffuck--right there! Yes, yes, Clyde!”
“Say y-yer mine.”
He growls into your ear, panting.
“Tell everyone who ya bbbelong to. Scream ma name w-when ya cum.”
“Y-Yours, all yours, Clyde. I’m yours!”
You whimper.
Clyde fucks you with everything he’s got, biting into your skin and sucking more of the flesh until you’re littered with marks. It’s not long before you’re tumbling over the edge, body trembling as you release all over his shaft with a shout of his name.
“Clyde! C-Clyde, fuck!”
Not long after you, Clyde falls over the edge, desperately rutting and fucking each drop of his hot load deep into your spasming cunt.
“Y/N, g’damnit...fuuuckin’ s-shit!”
Both of you are rendered breathless as you come down from your respective highs. His lips and tongue gently soothe the harsh bites and bruises that have been left behind in his wake.
He sighs softly when he pulls out, helping you pull your shorts back up before tucking himself back into his pants. When you turn around, he crashes his lips into yours, hands resting gently on your hips.
“‘m real sorry fer that, Y/N; dunno what got int’ me. I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”
You smile, cradling his face in your hands.
“Clyde, there is no need to apologize or feel bad for that. You know if I was uncomfortable, I would’ve stopped you or said something. I loved it, more than I probably should have, and I love you.”
His lips tug up into a soft, lopsided smile, relief flooding across his expression.
“I love ya too, Y/N, so, so much. Thank ya fer puttin’ up with me n’ bein’ mine.”
“No ‘thank you’ necessary, baby. I’m yours, always yours.”
Clyde grins, pulling you in for a hug as he repeats your words out loud.
“All mine.”
#mrs-gucci#mrs-gucci requests#logan lucky#logan lucky (2017)#adcu#adcu fanfiction#adcu community#adcu writer#clyde logan#clyde logan fanfiction#clyde logan x reader#clyde logan x you#clyde logan x y/n#clyde logan smut#clyde logan fluff#clyde logan x reader smut#clyde logan x reader fluff#clyde logan reader insert#adam driver#adam driver character#adam driver smut#adam driver fluff#adam driver fanfiction#adam driver fandom#adam driver fanfic#tw public sex
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Helloooo. Lemme start by saying how awesome fantastic amazing your fics are. I have a solhwi ask/prompt if it's not a problem. What would the study group's reaction be to established solhwi + bonus for prof kim and yangs reactions. Any headcanon or fic you can write about this please.
wicked love, leaves me blind
read on ao3 • masterlist
a/n: aaaa thank you so much for the kind words and the request! there's slight canon divergence in this and i decided on a more head canon format for this fic. this turned out kinda longer than expected but AAA my mind really ran with this prompt lmaooo. without much further adieu, i hope you like this <333
it's been 2 weeks since joon hwi confessed to her, running to her house in the middle of the night, panicked and afraid after the news of lee man ho hunting down professor yang
after the man had run from the scene, joon hwi was sure that he'd come back to his house, not afraid to hurt anyone on the way there. and in an instant, he started running, taking off towards her house without a second thought
by time he had reached her house, he was drenched in sweat, his heart thundering out of his chest in panic, in fear and in hope, that she was all right. he knocked frantically on the door of her house, hoping, praying that she was alright.
and to his relief, sol opened the door, her hair put up in the familiar messy bun. she yawned as she opened the door languidly, still wearing the hanguk law school sweatshirt he had once loaned her during a sleepless night of studying.
"han joon hwi? what are you doing here, it's lat-"
he lunged for her without a thought, gathering her in his arms and pressing her close to his body. she's alive, she's okay, chorused in his head as he shuddered out a breath of relief. she let out a soft oof but relaxed into him, her arms coming around his waist in a familiar way
he pulled away after what seemed like not long enough of a hug, and maybe it was the adrenaline, or the pure euphoria of finding her safe and in one piece that pushed him towards her lips, kissing her with fevor.
and after a shocked moment, she kissed him back, drinking him in, tugging him closer, desperate for more, more, more
and the rest was, well, history. it didn't take long after for the two of them to confess to each other, understanding that they needed each other in their life.
so it's been 2 weeks since han joon hwi confessed to her. really, they meant to keep their relationship secret. in the midst of their fight against assemblyman ko, the case against lee man ho and the mystery of what really happened the night of the hit-and-run case, they agreed that it was easier to keep it under wraps
after all, it was a new relationship to both of them. it wasn't like they hadn't dated other people, but what sol and joon hwi had was a carefully built friendship that was founded in trust and care for each other. and making it public, could only do them more damage as they become leverage against each other if their case goes south.
they only had one, very, very small, problem.
they were awful at keeping their hands off each other
alone time was very scarce for the both of them. with joon hwi being highly ranked, he was always pulled into every study session and every discussion in the school. not to mention, he had his own studies to maintain, alongside working at the legal clinic and helping professor yang with the mystery that had plagued the school.
kang sol's case was no different. she had to slave over her assignments, spending every spare moment at the school library, pouring over her text books. the moment not spent there was split between working to gather money for her mother and byeol, the legal clinic and assemblyman ko's case. not to mention her digging into kang dan's whereabouts as much as she could.
every single time they had together, there were too many people around for their tastes. during their busiest days, they had settled for subtle touches and stealing glances at each other whenever possible
so they spent their spare moments, huddled in the corridors, catching up on each other's days, making out and getting some time alone.
they'd make all kinds of excuses to leave early or walk each other to their dorm rooms, trying to maximize all their time with each other. every time they made to each other's rooms, they'd linger at the entrance, trying to see each other for just one more second.
and it was no wonder that when they first got caught, sol was pinned against the stairwell wall, joon hwi's lips buried in her neck. his fingers ghosted the hem of her shirt as she was pulled him closer to her and then...
clang!
the two broke apart, startled at the noise, their faces red. joon hwi's usual bangs were disheveled, sol's messy bun now loose and her hair cascading down her shoulders.
the two of them turned their head towards the noise only to find ye-beom and bok-gi, the latter's mouth gaping open like a fish. ye-beom on the other hand, stopped sucking on his lollypop, eyes wide as they looked at each other then looked back at the couple who were caught red handed.
bok-gi's hands were still frozen as the plate that fell from his hands lay at his feet and for what felt like eternity, there was absolute silence.
and then chaos.
"you two- when did you- how- what-" both of them started firing their questions rapid-fire.
the couple, who's faces were strawberry red, shushed them the best they could, looking around frantically to ensure no one else would here the commotion.
it took around 10 minutes for the boys to calm down, still reeling from what they witnessed
slowly, the couple explained that they were dating, and satisfying some of their curiosity before letting the boys go, with the stern warning of never repeating any of this information to anyone.
predictably, their whole study group knew about sol A and joon hwi the very next day.
of course, while ye-beom and bok-gi were huge gossips, they made sure the news didn't reach outside their sphere.
the next day, sol and joon hwi were the first ones to walk into the hideout, attempting to put up their "we're best friends! no relationship here!" facade up early, while the rest of the group quietly shuffled in.
they were good for the first 5 minutes (in reality they didn't last even 2 minutes) but joon hwi just can't keep his eyes off of her, especially when she's working through arguments for the case
the lovesick display lasts about... 10 minutes before Sol B stands up from her chair abruptly, causing everyone to jump in their seats.
as always, her face is neutral, but she spins to face ji ho, as the boy adjusted his glasses on his face so he could look up at her
"you own me 20 dollars" she simply stated at him, her hand outstretched
"what, no way i'm paying that" ji ho moved back, his face shocked that she even remembered
"you bet that they would take 3 months to confess, and i bet at 6 months— "
"it's been way longer than 6 months!"
"mine was closer"
"i think," ye-seul interjected as she took her seat at the table, heading back from her project work for professor kim's class, "that you both owe me 20 dollars. from what I remember, i bet that they would take longer!"
a chaotic clamber erupted as each member argued who owed who money, who bet on what,
"yah, ye-seul, how could you bet on me like that!" Sol interrupted the clamor, spinning to look at her best friend in shock and disbelief.
"sorry, unnie. it was too tempting of an offer for me to turn down" she replied, not looking the least bit apologetic.
joon hwi grinned at sol A as she looked around flabbergasted at their friends, before he grabbed her idle hand and held it up.
"just so we can fend off any confusion, sol is now my girlfriend. sorry we didn't get to tell you earlier, but to make up, we'll treat you to a dinner after all this mess is offered."
their group cheered at that, never being the one to turn down an offer for free food
it was bliss for the couple after that, and relief too. they could both agree that keeping a relationship under wraps was much harder than they could handle, with so much of this being new to them alongside the chaos of their lives
telling their friends took the pressure off, at least allowing themselves to indulge in each other without having to be extra careful of who was watching.
theirs was a blinding love. it was blinding bliss, it was peace.
bonus +1:
professor kim was a busy woman, but she always had the time for her students. taking the time to know each and every one of them was something she took pride in as a teacher.
but out of all her students, the study group lead by han joon hwi consisted of her favorite students that she taught. as a result of professor seo's unfortunate death and the reveal of everything that assemblyman ko had orchestrated, professor kim found herself around those kids more and more.
nevertheless, it was another day, another case to navigate at the legal clinic. it was a busy afternoon at hanguk law school, and professor kim's star students, sol and joon hwi huddled together trying to find the best way for the property case at hand
she had always had a soft spot for those two, ever since their class first semester when sol A blurted out a judgement and joon hwi, out of nowhere supported her. of all her years of teaching, she hadn't found a duo that was more hardworking, passionate and loyal than the two of them
Sol A was not her brightest student but she had tenacity and passion that more than made up for it. She could spot the hardworking girl, hunched over her textbooks hours after every other student had left.
Professor Kim had always found that some of the brightest students in her class would make for the worst in the field. because, being a lawyer wasn't about memorizing the codes or adhering to the rigid structure that many assumed the law to be. it was to offer kindness, compassion and understanding that they were humans first, before they could be judged by the law
and she knew that Sol A was one such girl who had that. She had watched as she defended Yang, even when the detectives and prosecutor were trying to close up the case and force him down as the perpetrator. even when joon hwi was accused, Sol stood by his side, pursing every route possible to prove his innocence. At every turn, she stood up for those who needed sympathy and kindness from the law; for those that the law would have hurt.
Joon Hwi was no different. the first time she saw him, she assumed him to be a cold, callous genius who had no time for anyone but himself. but oh, how wrong she was. Joon hwi was quiet the opposite. Even while being a generally reserved student, he had an inviting energy surrounding him that made every one like him, despite the intense competition at school
from the first day, it was clear he wasn't here for the marks or the validation of his teachers: it was passion and self motivation that drove him. it was clear that he was built to practice law, his mind was always sharp for legal terms and loopholes. but joon hwi always went the extra mile for his friends, always gave an extra hand to help, even when they didn't necessarily need it.
she could see it in him during Ye-Seul's case, eager to help her. she could see it when Ji Ho's father's suicide case came out, how eager he was to help and comfort his roommate.
but most of all, she could see it with Sol A. she wasn't sure when she had noticed their closeness, but she could see them walking the halls together, a smile spread across both their faces or them arguing across the table at the legal clinic, trying to work out the best method.
she could see it in the way Joon Hwi watched Sol, an almost lovesick smile on his face when she smiled or when she finally got the answers she was searching for. Professor Kim also knew, from her years of watching professor yang and prosecutor bae dance around each other, that it would be rare if they confessed to each other
so it was very odd when she looked across from her stack of papers to find joon hwi holding sol's hand as he flipped through the case file in front of him, both of them hyper focused into the details
maybe it was pure curiosity, maybe it was a taste for chaos that motivated her to call out "oh, are you two finally dating?" expecting their flustered and embarrassed reactions
but instead, she was met with a beaming smile from Joon Hwi that answered all the questions she had. Kang Sol on the other hand was left glaring and sputtering at her new boyfriend.
it was funny and gleeful, watching two of her favored students find a new life together, forging a new path.
and it was also pure relief for her, that she wouldn't have to deal with another professor yang and prosecutor bae situation
bonus +2:
the cold wind whipped around them as the couple accompanied professor yang back to campus. another night, another mystery, another trip to the police station to give witness statements
tonight was no different as the truth of the hit-and-run case started revealing itself, and the professor had accompanied the two students in silence, contemplative of all that has happened, the puzzle pieces slowly clicking together
professor yang was never meant to be a professor, in fact he hates the title itself. what he was meant for was to interrogate, to dig up clues and find out exactly who the culprit is and use the law to prove why they were guilty. for him, one's feelings did not matter, it was always about the evidence presented in front of him and how it could be interpreted.
it didn't mean he didn't care about his students, quite the opposite. it just meant that he wasn't the nurturing type as professor kim was. the one to always meddle in student affairs or keep track of how his students were doing outside of class
but with the two students walking beside him, they were the ones that he wanted to see succeed. they were the ones he was the most proud of as they presented their cases in public, finding their own ways to fight against injustice.
he was proud of them and in his heart, he knew it reminded him of a certain set of school mates, ones that were attached at the hip, a regret he has carried with him until he met her again on the court floor.
so maybe it was the deliriousness of all they had went through together or pure stupidity that made him pause in the tracks. his students continued on for a moment but then paused in their tracks, turning around to see what had stopped their professors.
"Kang Sol A." he nodded towards her.
"Han Joon Hwi." he nodded towards him.
"Congratulations on your new relationship"
he paused after, looking up at his students, both of them wide eyed that Professor Yang of all people, congratulated them on this.
and then, as if making it worse, he smiled.
Kang Sol's mouth dropped open, her hands reaching up to her eyes to rub them as if she was hallucinating what she saw.
Han Joon Hwi was incredulous, blurting out "Professor, have you been taking methamphetamines again?"
"Professor Yang has taken WHAT?" Sol whipped her head around, the sight of her professor expressing glee was already too much for her to handle but the news that he has taken meth just drove her head into overdrive.
the two were stuck in their positions, as their professor moved forward, brushing past them as if this event had never happened.
#law school jtbc#law school#law school kdrama#mine#ryu hye young#han joon hwi#kang sol a#professor kim#professor yang#yangcrates#jtbc law school#solhwi#my writing#kim beom#kim bum#ye beom#ye seul#kang sol b#ji ho#lee david#bok gi
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Title: filthy rich [1/3]
Pairing: millionare!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au]
Genre: romance, major angst ahead ,fluff, yandere!au-ish
Synopsis: Your luck had just run out when you realized that you flirted with danger. [400 followers special]
Warnings: language and none...yet….[although i will put a trigger warning that is a controlling, abusive, and kind of a yandere relationship]
Notes:
Happy 460 followers i- look, i know i promised a long kita fanfic but i got more inspired to finish this and write this one because djjdjdjd ,,, anyways this was originally a kpop fanfic i wrote years ago and i switched it up to an omi fanfic. I don’t condone this type of relationship, if ya see this shit on your partner, please run (i beg of you)
also eheh the remaining two requests will be posted soon so uwu
next || series masterlist || taglist
“Hey Y/N.”
You look up from your medical textbook to find your aunt standing there with an expensive freshly pressed suit on her hand wrapped in plastic, you had been living with her along with her two younger kids in Tokyo after your parents decided to become humanitarian doctors. Wanting to explore and get out of your comfort zone, you ended up living in the big city along with your mother’s closest friend.
“Oh, hey obaasan.” you greeted, “What’s up?”
“Ah, you see, Shoyo is out now and no one will be able to deliver the suit to Sakusa-san, would you mind doing me a favor and delivering it for me?”
You shut your textbook and stood up from your chair, “Sure, uh- could I have his address?” you ask as you took the suit in plastic carefully from her hands, not wanting to damage something that cost as expensive as your tuition in med school. After saying goodbye to your aunt and carefully placing the suit at the back of your car, you drove your way to the upstate part of the city.
Your second hand car stood out like a sore thumb in the lane of expensive and flashy cars, you wanted to waltz in and out of here quickly. Following your aunt’s instruction’s, you march up to the front desk to hand the suit over to the receptionist, “I’m here to drop the laundry for Sakusa-sa-”
Before you could even finish your sentence, she snatched it away from your grasp. You narrow your eyes at her rather uncouth attitude, “Oh, cool...thanks…” you murmur, not wanting to cause a scene or pick a fight with the rude woman, you made a b-line towards the exit. Away from the judging and prying eyes of the people who were very much above you in terms of class and wealth.
The moment you step out though, you watch in horror as your car is being towed away, “Hey!” you exclaimed, hurriedly going to the worker who was writing something down on his clipboard, “Hey, wait! Please, excuse me?”
The worker turned to you with a questioning gaze as you immediately started to explain that you were in and out of the place and that you were just delivering some laundry but all you got was a shake in the head and the words, “It’s not up to me, that guy called us in.” He points his ballpen towards the man in a suit and paired with a surgical white mask on the phone, “...The parking here is for residents only and clearly you’re not one of them.”
Your eyes almost widened at his explanation, just what was wrong with people who lived here?
You fumingly grab the piece of paper he hands to you and stuff it in your pocket as you march up to the stranger on the phone, “Hey, excuse me!” you proclaimed, there were a few on-lookers but you ignored them, you were seeing red with the treatment you’ve been receiving here. The raven-haired stranger ignores you, still on his phone so you call him out again and when you do, the darkest pair of obsidian eyes are on you.
You clenched your fists tightly as the quote ‘eat the rich’ comes into your head.
“There must be some mistake.” You began slowly, trying to put your anger at bay because you didn’t want the whole thing to escalate in public, “I’m in and out here, all i did was deliver and I didn't know-”
“Your ignorance doesn’t excuse you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ignorance of the law excuses no one.” He simply states, “Also the car was on the way in my space and not even a parking spot.”
You let out a loud, sardonic laugh, “I’d be gone in two minutes if you waited.”
“You would’ve wasted my two minutes.”
You clenched your fist tightly and as you were about to bite back on his snide remark, the receptionist from before intervenes, “Excuse me, he’s right. You aren’t allowed to park here.” she tries to look professional but you know she’s just siding with this idiot since he had the money.
“Right.” you nod, “You know what, fuck it, this blows. All I did was my job and I have to be shitted on because I don’t have money like Mr.fancy-pants over here.” You bellowed,your glare was intense as you turned around, stomping away before you would do anything you’d regret.
The stranger’s eyes towards you do not waver though, how interesting, he thought.
You never wanted to return to that place again, not only did you lose a lot of money to pay your toll fee for your car but you needed to buy a bunch of new books for the new semester. You groan out loud as you also realize that you needed to do a grocery run since all you had were empty packets of instant Ramen and water in your apartment.
Chunking the cue cards to the side, you made your way to the convenience store, the city was definitely alive tonight and amidst that, you look absolutely dead tired. Your eye bags were getting thicker, a few zits had popped out, and you had grown thin in an unhealthy way because of your food consumption.
Man, being in med school and being dumb wasn’t a very good combination.
Your thoughts are interrupted when your aunt calls you again and says you have to do deliveries tonight, “You remember Sakusa-san?” your aunt says on the other line.
You couldn’t help but grimace at the mention of the man and the memories of where he lived.
Man, did this Sakusa-san needed new neighbors.
“What does he need a suit for in this unholy hour?” You mentally groaned.
“He needs it for laundry, you can have the money when you pick it up.”
Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of cash, you decided to take public transportation since you didn’t want to risk getting your car toll away by that Sakusa guy’s wretched fancy-pants neighbor. Grocery shopping could wait another time, “Stupid rich people.” You muttered under your breath as you pushed open the entrance to find the same man who you despised, sitting there with a laundry basket next to him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You mumbled, sucking in a deep breath, you say, “Sakusa-san?”
“So I was right.” he says, pulling down his mask to reveal his sharp features, “You were the one who delivered my suit that day. It’s usually a young boy with a bike.”
Boy, this man was definitely at his prime, he was probably a good few years older than you and you bet he had the ladies swinging left and right with that face. Too bad he had a shitty attitude though.
“Well, that doesn’t give you an excuse to tow my car away.” you deadpan.
“How much do I owe you for the unfortunate accident then?” his tone was rich and low but you detected no remorse in it, it was as if waving huge chunks of money would help tremendously. The asshole couldn’t even properly say sorry to you because of the hard time you had to go through that time.
“None,” you scoffed, “Just hand me your laundry and pay the fee, we’ll call it even.”
The raven-haired man tilts his head and carefully hands you the laundry bag along with a wad of cash, your eyes immediately widen out of character, “Woah, wait-”
“For the troubles.” He simply replies, “Goodnight.”
You later found out that his full name was Sakusa Kiyoomi and not only was he rich, he was filthy rich. The man used to be a big volleyball player back or something when he was in high school and college but instead of becoming a pro player, he had inherited the family business.
“Huh, so he was a capitalist.” You stare at his picture at the morning paper which was coincidentally an article about him. You decided to forget about it, expecting to not see him after that night since Hinata had no classes or practices these upcoming weeks yet weirdly enough, he started to ask for you to pick up his laundry instead.
So you both fell into a strange routine, you’d pick up his laundry and return it the next day. He was also there to pick up his things and you no longer needed to talk to the rude receptionist. You were suspicious of him yet you decided to just overlook it, he gave good tips and he wasn’t as rude as the first time you met him, in fact, he made small conversations now and you sort of got to know the man.
You had a weird dynamic but strangely enough, it worked.
“L/N-san.”
“Good evening,” You greeted per usual, holding out your hand yet his eyes squinted at the bandage on your hand.
“What happened.” the raven-haired man asked, his gaze zeroing on the wound that you got in one of your classes.
“I’m a med student...I cut myself instead of the cadaver in class.” you shrug nonchalantly as you wiggle your fingers, “It’s alright though, I’m not going to stain your suit that you keep putting back to the laundry for some odd reason.”
“You got hurt.”
“Happens to the best of us.”
Sakusa mutters something incoherent under his breath before saying, “I’ll take you to your car.”
“Woah there-”
The man ignores you as he walks ahead of you, this was certainly getting out of character, even for him who always asked for you, “Open it.” He orders as he points to the car door, you begrudgingly obliged and did as he said. He places the laundry inside and turns to you to give you his usual pay, “Take care of yourself next time, L/N-san.”
The very next day, your aunt hands you an expensive package of ointments on your doorstep. Your brows are furrowed together in confusion as she says that they’re from the millionaire himself. You pointedly look at the package in front of you, completely lost as to why someone like him would send something like this to the person who he wasn’t exactly close with.
“Y/N-saaaaan…” Hinata drowns, you snap your gaze from your notes to the young orange-haired boy, “I’ve got news!”
You had stopped working for your aunt since you found a job at your university’s library, not only were the hours more lax but they even minus some of the tuition as long as you worked there. It was definitely a win-win situation for you.
“What’s up, orange?” You asked.
“Remember Sakusa-san?”
You hum a reply, “What about him?”
“I think he likes you.”
You almost choke on your saliva when you heard that, this little brat, why you ought to-
“He looked really disappointed when I said that you didn’t work for us anymore.” Hinata explains, cutting your thoughts short,
“Right.” You drawl, shaking your head, “Maybe you were just hard to look at, that’s why.”
“Hey!” He clenched his fists together and pouted at your tone, “I don’t even know why he likes you!”
You feel a vein pop in his forehead as you hear his insult, you proceeded to chunk a pillow to his direction in which he successfully dodged, “Get your facts straight and I assure you, he doesn’t like me.” you grumbled, returning to your books.
Ultimately, you thought that you’d never see Sakusa Kiyoomi ever again. It was fairly obvious that outside your job, someone of high caliber as him was someone you’d never see again yet you're immediately thrown off guard when you find him standing there around your campus.
Your eyes widen in surprise, well what do you know? it was the devil himself.
“Sakusa-san.”
“L/N-san.”
Man, you may not have seen him for a month or two but despite wearing the mask, you could tell that e still sported the same blank and basic bitch face behind it. Hinata was wrong in all ways, this guy wouldn’t like you, he’d probably deem you too low class for him, “What a surprise, it’s been a while.” You stiffly bowed down.
“You’re acting weird.”
You raise your gaze to meet his and you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes.
“You’re most likely a guest in the university.” You mumbled, scratching your head, “People might come at me if I treated you as casually as before.”
Sakusa raises his brow, “That’s funny coming from someone who was this close to punching me during our first meeting.”
“You were being a dick that time.”
“How you have guts to say that to my face amazes me every time.”
“Oh yeah?” You chortled, amused by his statement, “I’m starting to think you’ve taken a liking on me.”
“Was it not obvious when I kept asking for you from Hinata-san?”
You immediately choke on the coffee you were sipping, burning your tongue in the process, “Okay what the hell, sakusa-san-” you said in between coughs.
Your freeze up when you look at him dead in the eye, his eyes crinkling, was he smiling behind the mask? No way, the Sakusa Kiyoomi was smiling at you? He pulls down his mask and bends down, making you retract your steps and your cheeks flush to a brightly red color, “You’re turning red.” he points out loud and that makes you turn even redder.
“You’re acting weird.”
“You were getting dense.”
“How was I supposed to know...to know that…” You try to stutter out, completely embarrassed.
“To know what?”
“You know what.” You grumbled, standing up a bit straighter and ignoring his teasing tone, “I’m not interested in you.”
“Your red cheeks say otherwise.”
“It’s the cold weather.” You harshly replied, looking away again, trying to avoid his gaze, “I’m not interested in a boyfriend, a flirting partner, or whatever that is. So good day!”
You immediately stomp away, leaving Sakusa Kiyoomi with an amused smirk. How entertaining and adorable, you looked like a bunny. His cute bunny.
A few days had passed from that little interaction and you wanted to hurl yourself out the window whenever you thought about it. Sakusa Kiyoomi? The filthy rich capitalist Sakusa Kiyoomi? Interested in you? What kind of k-drama was this?
You tried to avoid going out much in the campus, Apparently he was around after he donated half a million to the medicine department.
You immediately groaned out loud at the thought, there was in no way that all this was possible!
“L/N-san.”
You immediately jump on the spot and drop your keys, “Holy fucking-” You pause, biting back your tongue, there he stood sporting a casual attire instead of a business suit and his usual face mask, “Sakusa-san?”
“Kiyoomi.” He smoothly corrects.
“Nice. Very nice.” You dryly replied, “Heard you donated half a million and some new equipment to our department. Sweet.”
“You don’t look that happy.”
“I mean you basically confessed that you were interested then decided to donate to my department only.” You narrow your eyes suspiciously, “You remind me of a sugar daddy.”
“Well,” He shrugged, “You didn’t exactly deny that you wanted one.”
Your brain immediately short-circuits as you try to stutter out a reply, Sakusa looked like he’d been having a field day. Gone was the fiery girl he met a few months ago, he really knew what to say to reduce you to a stuttering mess.
“I’m kidding, L/N-san.” he deadpanned when he realized that you weren’t giving him a straight answer since your mind was jumbled up, “It was purely coincidental, we’ve been eyeing certain medicine departments and yours was performing top-notch. It doesn’t mean that I’m any less interested in taking you out.”
“You do know I’m poor right…” You sweatdrop, “I could easily take advantage of you-”
“One date, L/N-san…” he says, ignoring your very weak argument, “Just one then I’ll let you go.”
You don’t know why but you ended up saying yes that day.
You didn’t know what to expect on your first date and you had your fingers cross the whole time that he wouldn’t take you to an expensive michelin star restaurant since you didn’t have the clothes for the place.
Thankfully, the date was more casual than you expected, it was in his home and he had cooked the meal himself.
“You’re looking oddly relieved.”
“I can’t function well in expensive restaurants.” You sweatdrop, covering your awkwardness with a laugh. You’ve never gone on dates before, the idea of being intimate with someone had made you feel awkward and bothered.
“I’m not a big fan of public areas so I assure you we're not going on those anytime soon.”
“Well aren’t you getting confident.” You raise a brow, teasing him a bit as you start to pick on the beef with your chopsticks.
“Call it a gut feeling, L/N-san.”
“Y/N.”
“What?”
“You asked me to call you Kiyoomi and well,” you turn red once again, “Well it would be awkward if you were all formal with me.”
You saw the small twinkle in his eyes, “Y/N.” your name rolls out of his tongue smoothly and you feel your heart hammering on your chest, “I like that, Y/N…”
It was in that little moment that you realized that you liked it when he called your name.
The dinner went by without a hitch, Sakusa Kiyoomi was not the same arrogant man that the media portrayed him to be. He was quiet, understanding, and soft. Completely the opposite of the first day you met him. He urged you to talk more about yourself, saying how boring and open his life was since the media tailed him a lot.
“Why Tokyo?”
“Why not?” You shrug, swishing the wine before taking a small sip, “It’s a great place, it’s new, and I had someone I knew here. My mom and Obaasan were good friends so I was allowed to move here on my own.”
“Are you coming back to your country if you’re done with your studies?”
You were silent for a moment, “I don’t think so. I wanna be like my parents.”
“A humanitarian doctor, huh?”
“Yeah.” You smile, “A humanitarian doctor. How about you? What’s your story?”
“Nothing interesting.” He glazed, “I’m an open book, Y/N.”
“Open book?” You tilt your head to the side, “You’re usually painted as an asshole by the media…”
“But you don’t believe it.”
“You kinda were when we first met.”
For the first time, you hear his soft chuckle and your heart starts beating fast. You liked that sound, you wanted to hear something like that again, “You always know how to amuse me, Y/N.” he shakes his head, “And for the record, just because I’m not comfortable with touches, public places and whatnot does not make me an asshole...I just am a very private person with interests…”
“What’s your interest now?”
“You.” He replied nonchalantly, making you look away..
“Stop.”
“What?”
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Flirting with me with a straight face like you mean it!” You choke out, turning red.
“Because I do mean it, Y/N.” He shrugs. “I am interested in you.”
It seemed like that little date you had turned out more successful than you thought, one date led to another and another. This went on for a few months until he asked you to be his partner one night at a very random place, you usually pictured Sakusa Kiyoomi to be the smooth type you were, after all, always the stuttering mess between you two but when he asks you to be his officially, outside the public restroom of all places with his ear tips turning red, your reduced to a heaping pile of giggles.
With men like him, you didn’t exactly expect anything more than the dates.
You should’ve known better that he was too good to be true.
general taglist for the next part is open aye
#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa kiyoomi headcanons#sakusa kiyoomi imagines#sakusa angst#sakusa kiyoomi angst#haikyuu yandere#sakusa x reader#sakusa imagines#yandere!sakusa#yandere warning!!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyu!! fanfics#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu headcanons#📝📝.Filthy rich series#hostclub.adulting
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🌔🔥Miami Nights🔥🌔
Prompt: Roman’s little bossy attitude towards Y/N will lead them to one of the most sensual nights they’ve had.
Word count: Long...
Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader
Warnings: +18, smut, jealousy, a little bit of angst, “make up sex”, cursing, dirty talking (‘cuz we already know I’m a sucker for it!), praise kink and even a little bit of ass worship (because you can never go wrong with that! 😉)
Tag: @jibbles26 , @lustyromantic , @reigns-5sos , @mindofasagittaruis , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @ziasaph
Notes: So, the fact that I’m a lover of rough smut is no secret (I mean, have you seen the shit I write?!) but something that hits you different is a good old sensual smut! Just the intimacy and slow deep movements of it are just worth drooling.. I’ve been wanting to write a more sensual scene for a while so here you go! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊)You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉
My heels click clack fast upon the stairs as I make my way down to the first floor, severely searching for my phone around the living room.
“What are you looking for?” His deep voice echoed from behind me
“Jesus Christ, Roman! You startled me. I’m looking for my phone, have you seen it?”
“Do you mean this one?” He showed me my phone in his hand
“Oh, thank you baby. I-“ I stopped when instead of giving me the phone, he tossed onto his joggings side pocket.
“What are you doing? Give me my phone, please”
“Where are you going to?” He asks, ignoring my request
“My boss called saying he got a last time meeting with that big potential French buyer and asked me to help him with the translation”
He raised his eyebrows “And you’re dressed like this” He scoots closer, pulling at the hem of my black pencil skirt “Just to meet him?”
“I have to dress nicely. It’s a work meeting, so yeah, I need to dress in work clothes” I spat, not really liking where this was going
“Couldn’t you have ‘dressed nicely’ with pants?”
“What’s your point, Roman?” I ask slightly annoyed
“My point is: You’re dressed in a pencil skirt that will make any alive man stare directly at your ass, your cleavage is so deep that I can see your bra” He leans in “You’re wearing your Givenchy perfume, makeup, heels...all of that, just for a meeting with a buyer?” His voice had an incredulous tone to it
“Yes! I just told you it’s a work thing, how do you expect me show up there? With sweatpants and flip flops?!”
He’s still staring at me as he coldly said
“You’re not going out on that outfit”
“WHAT? Are you kidding me? Since when do you prohibit me from wearing something?”
“Since now!” He growled
I bitterly laughed “Sorry my dear, but I’m not one of our children! You don’t tell me what to do. You’re my husband, not my father!”
He closes the distance between us
“Do you really expect me to believe that you’re looking all hot like that for a last minute meeting? I’m not that dumb, baby girl. To me, that smells like there’s some other male trying to piss at my lawn and I don’t like that” His voice is dangerously low
“Are you suggesting that I’m romantically seeing my boss?” I ask in disbelief
“No, you wouldn’t do that. But him on the other hand, always had a soft spot for you. So yeah, I think he pulled together this whole ‘last minute meeting’ thing just so he can be alone with you. That’s why, you’re gonna go upstairs take off that makeup and that outfit and put on something less provocative”
“I’ve ALWAYS dressed like this to work! Even when I worked at the WWE and you’ve never had a problem with it before”
“I have a problem with it now” He growled
“Roman, are you listening to yourself? You better bring that attitude down! That whole ‘tribal chief’ gimmick thing is going up your head”
“You’re not leaving this house in that outfit!” He roars
“That’s nonsense! Give me my phone back, please”
“No” He calmly answered
“Give me my fucking phone, Roman” I spat
“You want your phone back? Go upstairs and change that outfit” He explained like if I was a kid
“Give me my phone!” I try to grab the phone out of his side pocket, but before I could, he grabbed my wrists forcefully. Locking them in his grip, behind my back.
“Oh, you’re in big trouble now” He devilishly laugh
I try to release my wrists from his grip but it was too tight
“Roman, let me go”
“Why should I? I mean, you were brave enough to try to take your phone away from me, so you can be brave enough to free yourself”
I try to pull on my wrists but the more I try to the harder he grips
“Roman, you’re gonna hurt me, let.me.go” I punctuated so maybe he’ll understand
“Stop fighting then!” He pushes me forward with the hand that is on my back securing my wrists, I tripped and he holds me in place by my ass, with his free hand
“This is mine” He slaps my ass forcefully, making me look up at him with pure hatred
“Don’t give me that look” He warned
“You’re gonna make me loose my job!” I start to fight against his firm grip, in despair to release myself
Roman then holds my body against his by my waist
“Behave” He chuckled
I was already pretty annoyed, to be honest, so I spat
“If you don’t let me go, I swear to God I’ll forget that you are my husband and I’m gonna kick your balls so hard, they’re gonna fly out of your mouth!”
He stares at me and let me go
“My phone, please” I reach out my hand so he can place the phone in it, which he obliged.
The front door opened and the kids ran inside like maniacs followed by Jey, who’s holding some bags from the local Candy Shop.
“This isn’t over yet” Roman whispered
“Man, I tell you, the amount of candy that shop has is out of this world!” He chuckled while chewing on something covered in chocolate. He looked at us and said
“Uh oh, I feel some tension...Did I had a bad timing?”
“No, Jey” I say “You couldn’t have a better timing not even if you tried to!” I look away from Roman to get my hand bag and the kids ran to us to show what uncle Jey had bought them.
...................................................................
I came home around 10 p.m. The reunion was a success and we had managed to close a deal with one of the French buyers we were hoping to get a contract with. He was in Vancouver for business and was able to attend the meeting through a video conference.
One part of me was excited to tell Roman about it because he knew how much that contract would help me in both career and money wise. But the other part of me was still mad at him for that little stunt he put up earlier.
I walk through the living room to place my hand bag and phone at the coffee table when the lamp by the armchair went on.
“Did you had fun?” Roman asked with a cold voice
“Sweet Lord, Roman! Do you want to kill me?”
“It must have been quite fun, I mean, for you to have came back home just now”
“You do know there’s a timezone of -3 hours from Vancouver to Florida right?”
“I didn’t asked that, I asked if you had fun”
I look at him in disbelief and say
“Look, I don’t know what’s up with the whole Samoan Don Corleone thing, but I’m really tired” I sighed
“Come here Y/N”
“What? You’re gonna ask me to kiss your ring too, Don Samoan?” I mock
He cackled at my little joke and stood up from the armchair, walking towards me.
“You and your clever little mouth, right baby? Always putting yourself in trouble with those pretty lips” His smile fade-away and he quickly pulled my head up by my hair
“I think you’re forgetting that you’re walking on thin ice right now and I wouldn’t test me if I were you”
“Where are the kids?” I ask faintly
“At Jey’s, for a sleep over” His smile is now purely evil
“Did you planned this, then?”
“C’mon baby, how are you gonna be able to scream my name while I fuck you senseless if the kids are at home?” He leans in to sniff the nape of my neck
“I love when you wear this perfume, it drives me crazy! It makes me want to fuck you all night long” He sucks on my neck “You look good enough to eat Y/N. That skirt baby...it’s gonna be the death of me! Give me a 360, baby girl” He said, intertwining our fingers and slowly turning me around while whistling at me.
“What is this all about?” I ask, suspicious about his true intentions
“What do you mean?”
“The whole complimenting me for the one thing you made a whole fuss about it earlier”
“What? Can’t I compliment my gorgeous wife?” He asked innocently
“I’m not saying that! I’m just saying that I find it suspicious the fact that earlier we almost got into an argument because of this outfit and now your throwing praises at it” I crook an eyebrow at him
He smiles “You know me so well it’s actually embarrassing!” He chuckled
“Ok baby girl, you got me! I felt guilty, ok? I regretted being so rude with you earlier, you didn’t deserve it”
“So why did you do it, Ro?”
“Because I got jealous! I mean, the time we have together is short and it’s mostly taken by the kids, we barely have any alone couple time and I miss you! I miss having my wife, having you: Y/N! Not the mom version or the professional version of you, but just my wife. All to myself” He scoots closer “So when I saw you dressed up all nice like this, smelling so good and looking so beautiful I remembered how it used to be back then...when you worked at WWE and I used to sneak out to your hotel bedroom at night so we could spend the night together because you didn’t wanted people to know about us. I remembered the amount of convincing that I had to do, for you to finally agree to make us an official thing. How we thought that our marriage wouldn’t survive with me being on the road and you at home with the kids. How many times I couldn’t sleep at night ‘cause I got scared thinking that I could lose you after that fight we’ve had when Ben was born” Roman hugs my waist and look me in the eyes “I felt the same fear earlier today, I know that’s on me and not on you but... I couldn’t help it, I got carried away by my jealousy and I apologize for that. You’re a beautiful woman! Gorgeous face, delicious body, a goddess in the bedroom, strong personality, such a kind soul and a heart made of gold. And I’m a selfish man! I don’t wanna lose you, I can’t afford to lose you...I want you all to myself, body and soul” He leans in to capture my lips in the most romantic, sensual, long kiss.
“Do you forgive me?” He whispered
“I don’t know...maybe I need some more convincing” I tease him and he laughed, knowing it was all good between us
“What can I do to convince you, baby?”
“Lose the shirt and the pants and sit on the armchair”
He happily obliged, sitting on the armchair with eyes filled with excitement
“Can you help me with this?” I point towards the skirt’s zipper innocently
He smirked and I got closer to the chair. Roman reaches the zipper, pulling it down torturously slow.
“Take it off, Ro”
He slowly pulls it down, savoring every inch of my ass being exposed to him, with each tug at the skirt he nibs and kisses the recently discovered skin. And I couldn’t be happier to be wearing a new lace set in a beautiful midnight blue shade.
The skirt became a pile of fabric around my ankles as Roman growls: squeezing, biting, licking and kissing my ass while I take off my white dress shirt.
“Fuck Y/N, baby...I’m in love with your ass”
I giggled at his choice of words
“It looks so fucking good in this blue color. Is this a new set?” He asks, still kissing and biting it.
“Yeah, I bought it last week. I thought it looked good so-“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence due to the forceful tug he gave my hips so I could sit down on his lap.
“It looks insanely good, baby” He whispered in my ear, kneading my breasts softly through the lace.
“And the bra too...they make your boobs look full as fuck! I love it”
I feel his erection resting against my ass and I can’t help but grind my hips to it.
“Hmmm baby, you’re so hot, so fucking hot. The hottest woman I’ve ever met” He pressed my hips further down to his bulge
“You never fail to turn me on baby girl, you’ve always had the power to make my cock rock hard for you”
“Just for me?” I ask with a voice raspy from pleasure, reaching my arm around his neck so I can pull his lips towards my ear
“Always just for you, baby. Ever since he tasted you, he got addicted and wants only you” Roman whispered
His voice always worked wonders on me. How deep his voice is, the things he says...it was always an infallible combination.
We explored each other’s body until we couldn’t wait it anymore.
I stand up to remove my lace panties and bra and he loses his boxer briefs, sitting back at the armchair with me on his lap. I lifted up a bit, so he can enter my core and oh, how I missed my man!
I start a front to back motion, holding onto Roman’s thighs for support while my thighs are closed shut in between his opened ones. I circled my hips in deep, slow circles from time to time so he can sink all the way in.
“Yeah, keep doing that baby girl. Fuck, it looks so sexy when you ride me like this” He moaned
And that’s my intention: a sensual, lustful, intimate sex.
Roman roamed one arm around my hips until his hand stopped at my mound
“Spread your legs a little bit, baby” He asks
I do it and two of his fingers start to rub my clit at the same pace of my riding.
“Oh, Ro...fuck me babe, that feels so good” I reach my arm back, so I can toss it around his neck, pulling him closer to me. The change of positions made his cheek rest against the side of my breast. I look down and see him staring at his hand on my clit.
“Baby” I wine, making him look up to me. And when he did I leaned down to capture his full lips in a deep kiss.
Once apart he cupped my cheek with his free hand
“I love you Y/N, so fucking much baby girl”
“I love you too Ro, the only man I’ll ever want” I smiled
“Promise me?” He asked
“Promise” I leaned down to kiss him again
I felt him twitch inside of me, a sign he was close to coming.
“Are you gonna cum inside this pussy, baby?” I smirked
“I can’t hold it back anymore, baby girl. You’re riding me so good and your pussy is milking my cock so nicely that I just can’t hold it” He laughs and kisses the side of my breast
“Cum for me baby, cum right on your pussy” I whispered in his ear
“Mine” He growled and turned up the pace of his fingers on my clit
“Yours” I moaned as I could feel my own release rising
Roman pressed our foreheads together as we reach our high in between moans. As we’re recovering our breath he says
“Damn baby, that was something!” Taking a deep breath in
“Did I just took your breath away, Reigns?” I chuckled
“Fuck yeah, that was the hottest sex we’ve had in the last 2 months”
“You’re unbelievable!” I laughed hard
“What? I’m serious! My girl is always giving me some breath taking sex” He said seriously, pulling me closer to his chest
“I’m glad you think that way because I already want a round 2” I sucked on his lower lip
“Oh baby, you’ll have the round 2, 3, 4, 5...’Cuz the kids won’t be back until tomorrow at 9 p.m.” He licks my neck
“Are you serious?” I whispered excitedly
He nods “I told you I missed my wife” He winks and take me on his arms bridal style
“Let’s go baby girl, round 2 awaits!” He laughed carrying us up to our bedroom
Where our night was just getting started
Please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedback is always appreciated 🥰😘
#roman reigns one shot#roman reigns x reader#roman reigns fanfiction#roman reigns smut#roman reigns imagine#roman reigns#wwe x reader#wwe smut#wwe imagine#wwe one shot#wwe fanfiction#masochist writes
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Stiles- If I Can’t Have You, No One Can (Obsessed Part 4)
A/N: When I was initally writing this series I had a set plan for where I wanted it to end and how. I was recently rewatching the last few episodes of season 2 and I got struck with some inspiration. Let me know down below if you guys want a part 5 so I can continue the series!
TRIGGER WARNING: Stalking, kidnapping
Here are the links for Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.
“Right there!” Stiles cried, frantically gesturing toward the computer screen on his dad’s desk. “Stop! Stop! See? There he is again.”
They were scrolling through hours of security footage recorded at the hospital the night one of Matt’s victims was killed. So far, all they had managed to capture were shots of him with his back turned. This tape was no different.
“You mean there’s the back of his head again,” the Sheriff told him.
“Okay, but look. He’s talking to someone!”
Scott followed Stiles’ gaze. His eyes widened. “He’s talking to my mom.”
He hastily pulled out his phone out of his jeans and called his mom, hoping she would be able to confirm that it was Matt. Stiles tapped his foot nervously as they talked. His shoulders slumped in relief when he heard her say that Matt was the one she had seen.
“Alright,” the Sheriff said when she hung up. He picked up a manila evidence folder from his desk.
“We’ve got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site...”
“And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders,” Stiles said. “The trailer, the hospital, and the rave.”
“Actually four,” the Sheriff told him, flipping through the documents in the folder. “A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt a few hours before the murder.”
Stiles let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, Dad, if one’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, and three’s a pattern, what’s four?”
“Four’s enough for a warrant.”
Stiles curled his fist in triumph. “We can find Y/n.”
“Scott, call your mom back. See how quickly she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Stiles, go to the front desk. Tell them to let Scott’s mom in when she gets here.”
“On it.” Stiles nodded hastily and turned down the hall.
His whole body was humming with adrenaline now. He had spent the whole night terrified, wondering what Matt was doing to you. Stiles knew you were probably betting on the fact that they would find you. After all, it was what he would have done in your situation.
You have saved each other plenty of times before, and now it was his turn again. He knew he could do it, he just wasn’t sure what Matt would do to you in the meantime.
Stiles had tried his best to protect you, but he knew it hadn’t been enough. He should have pushed harder when he suggested you go to the police the other night. He should have kept a closer eye on you at the party, but he had been too caught up in his own issues.
He tried to shake off those thoughts as he walked down the halls of the station, telling himself that he still had time to make up for it. He had told you the other night that everything he did was to keep you safe, and that was still true.
As he rounded the corner of the hall, Stiles realized that the officer on duty was no longer standing at the front desk.
“Hello?” he called, looking around for her.
That was when he noticed her black combat boot sticking out from behind the corner of the desk. He felt a shiver run down his spine, and he realized she was lying on the floor among a mess of fallen papers. Her eyes were wide open, but they weren’t moving, and her tan uniform was stained dark red with blood.
She was dead, but as Stiles took in the horrific sight, he also noticed another chilling detail. The holster on her hip was empty. Someone had taken her gun.
Stiles stumbled back, turning around, only to come face to face with you.“Y/n?”
Tears were slipping from your eyes, and your lip was trembling. You looked terrified, standing there in your disheveled dress. It was the same one you had been wearing at the party last night.
Matt was standing behind you, one hand one your shoulder as he pressed the dead officer’s gun into your back.
“If you make one move I’ll shoot her,” he told Stiles.
Stiles reluctantly held up his hands. “Okay. Okay, fine.”
“I’m sorry,” you mouthed, but he shook his head. You had to know this wasn’t your fault.
Matt kept the barrel of the gun pressed against your back as Stiles led you further into the station. He turned into his dad’s office, and you realized that the Sheriff and your brother were also there.
“Y/n!” Scott cried.
He started forward, but Matt ordered him to stop, waving the gun so he and the others could see it.
“Matt,” the Sheriff said slowly. He held up his hands.
“It’s Matt, right? Matt, whatever’s going on, I guarantee there’s a solution that doesn’t involve a gun.”
Matt’s lips curled into a sick grin. “You know it’s funny you say that, because I don’t think you’re aware of just how right you are.”
“I know you don’t wanna hurt people-”
“Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people. You four weren’t on my list, but I could be persuaded...and one way is to try calling somebody on your cell phone like McCall is doing.”
Scott ripped his hand out of his pocket, looking between you and Stiles apologetically.
“That...that could definitely get someone hurt.”
“Everyone?” Matt gestured with the gun, and you knew he was telling them to give up their phones. “Now!”
“Come on,” the Sheriff told the boys calmly.
Stiles looked back at you.
“Pretty sure he tossed mine out the window last night,” you muttered.
Matt led the four of you to the tiny jail at the back of the station. There, he made Stiles handcuff his dad to a bench. You felt your stomach drop. Now the three of you were completely on your own with Matt.
He waved the three of you in front of him and forced you to walk up to the front of the station. As you passed by another hallway, you gasped.
Three other officers were lying in the hallway and all of them appeared to be dead. Their chests had been ripped open so forcefully that every wall around them was splattered with blood.
You looked away, fighting the urge to vomit.
“What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?” Scott demanded.
“No,” Matt said with a scoff. “That’s what Jackson’s for. I just think about killing them...and he does it.”
He forced you back into Stilinski’s office, where he made Stiles log into his dad’s computer. Matt had him delete every bit of evidence, including the video footage of him at the hospital. Scott was destroying the paper evidence in the shredder, including the shoe prints that would have matched Matt’s boots.
Stiles glared at Matt from behind the desk, wanting to rip him apart as he stroked his fingers down your hair. He had forced you to sit next to him on the couch, and you were currently staring intently at the tiled floor.
Stiles had already seen the bruises Matt had left on your throat. The only thing keeping him from jumping across that desk was the knowledge that Matt would have Jackson rip all of you to pieces at a moment’s notice.
“Deleted,” he told Matt bitterly, gesturing toward the computer. “And we’re done. So, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it, because they killed you first-whatever that means-we’re good here, right? I’ll just get my dad and we’ll go. You know, you continue on the whole vengeance thing, enjoy the Kanima.”
Before he could respond, the glow of headlights swept through the windows. You could hear tires crunching on the gravel of the parking lot outside.
“Sounds like your mom’s here,” Matt told you and Scott.
“Matt, don’t do this,” you begged.
“When she comes to the door, we’ll just tell her to leave,” Scott added. “I’ll tell her we didn’t find anything! Please, Matt.”
The sound of the metal door creaking open echoed through the station, and Matt grinned. “If you don’t move now, I’m gonna kill Y/n first, and then your mom.”
He pressed the gun up against your back, and Scott glared at him. Matt pulled you up by the back of your dress and gestured for Scott and Stiles to go first.
“Open it,” he ordered Scott, when you had made your way back to the front lobby.
“Please,” Scott begged one more time.
“Open. The. Door,” Matt told him, enunciating each word carefully.
Scott reached out, shaking his head regretfully. When he turned the knob, the door slowly creaked open to reveal the person standing there. It wasn’t your mom, but Derek Hale.
“Oh thank god,” Scott breathed.
But Derek simply stared at him. Then, he pitched forward and slammed straight onto the floor below. Jackson was standing behind him, half transformed. He held up one scaly hand, still dripping with clear venom, and stalked into the lobby.
Matt walked over and knelt in front of Derek, flipping him on his back. He was now completely paralyzed.
“This is the one controlling him?” Derek asked from the floor. “This kid?”
“Well, Derek, not everyone’s lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf.”
Matt straightened up, glancing between you, Scott, and Stiles. “That’s right! I’ve learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas...it’s like a freakin’ halloween party every full moon.”
He smirked. “Except for you Stiles. What do you turn into?”
Stiles glared at him.
“Abominable snowman,” he snarked. “But it’s more of, like, a wintertime thing. You know...seasonal.”
Matt rolled his eyes, and in seconds, Jackson was swiping his claws across the back of Stiles neck.
“Hey!” you cried.
“Bitch,” Stiles swore at Matt, before his knees went out from under him. He crashed onto the ground, right on top of Derek’s chest.
“Get him off of me,” Derek growled.
Matt laughed. “Oh, I don’t know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must suck though, having all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you’re not used to feeling this helpless.”
Derek glared up at him from the floor. “Still got some teeth. Scoot down here a little closer, huh? We’ll see how helpless I am.”
“Yeah, bitch.”
Stiles’ voice was muffled from being facedown against Derek’s chest, but you couldn’t help but smile.
For the second time that night, headlights flashed through the windows of the sheriff’s station. You could hear another car pulling to a stop outside.
“Is that your mom?” Matt asked. “Do what I tell you to, and I won’t hurt her. I won’t even let Jackson near her.
“Scott, don’t trust him,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s shirt.
Scott remained frozen in front of the door, but Matt was impatient. He reached forward, snatching you by your hair and tugging you back against him. He wrapped his arm around your neck, squeezing against your windpipe and cutting off your breath.
“This work better for you?” he asked Scott.
You reached up, scratching at his arms, but he didn’t even flinch.
“Okay, stop, just stop,” your brother begged.
“Then do what I tell you to!” Matt spat.
“Okay, alright, stop!”
Matt finally let you go, right as you were on the verge of blacking out. You hit the floor on your hands and knees, gasping and dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
“You,” Matt said, gesturing to Jackson. “Take them in there. You two, with me.”
He yanked you up off the ground by your arm, and gestured for Scott to open the door as Jackson hauled Derek and Stiles out of the lobby.
When the door finally opened, Matt pulled you behind the corner of the hallway. You could hear the door squeaking open, and your mom asking “Scott?”
You were trembling as Matt held you back against his chest. What would he do to your mom?”
“You scared me,” you heard her say. “Where is everyone?”
That was when Matt shoved you out in front of him. Your mom gasped your name. As far as she had known, you were still missing.
When she saw Matt come out behind you and press the gun against your back, she froze.
“Mom,” Scott told her nervously. “Just do what he says. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you.”
“He’s right,” Matt agreed.
Then, he raised the gun, and shot Scott in the stomach. You and your mom both screamed, but as she rushed forward, Matt pointed the gun at you.
“But I didn’t say I wouldn’t hurt him.”
Scott was holding himself up using the wall, just barely managing to not fall to his knees. He had one hand pressed against his side, and blood was beginning to pool through his shirt. You knew he would heal from the gunshot wound, but your mom didn’t.
She tried to step forward, but Matt waved the gun.
“Back! Back!” he ordered.
“Mom,” Scott choked. “Mom, do it. Please mom.”
You could hear Stiles' dad from all the way at the back of the station. He had undoubtedly heard the gunshot.
“Matt! Matt, listen to me-!”
“Shut up!” Matt roared. “Shut up! Everybody shut the hell up!”
He gestured to Scott before training the gun back on you. “Get up, or I shoot your sister next.”
“Please,” your mom begged. Tears were running down her cheeks. “He needs to see a doctor.”
Matt tilted his head. “You think so?”
“It’s alright,” Scott insisted. “I’m okay.”
“No, sweetie, you’re not,” your mom insisted.
She began to babble about how he was just feeling the adrenaline, how he needed to get to the hospital. You looked over at your brother, and he met your eyes. There was no way he was going to be able to keep his secret after this, provided you all made it out alive.
“They have no idea, do they?” Matt asked you.
You didn’t answer him. Your mom was still trying to convince Matt to let her take Scott to the hospital.
“Lady, if you keep talking, I’m going to put the next bullet in her head.”
He raised the gun to your skull. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt the barrel of the gun against your skin.
Your mom took a deep breath, and held up her hands. Tears were streaming down her face, leaving wet lines of black mascara. “Okay...okay.”
Matt shoved you in front of him, pushing you down the hall. He paraded you back through the station, and locked your mom into the cell next to the bench Stilinski was cuffed to.
When Matt shut the cell door, your mom reached out through the bars, grasping your hand tightly. “You’re okay?”
You nodded, tears slipping from your own eyes. “I’m okay. Stiles and Scott made sure I was safe.”
“Back to the front McCall!” Matt barked. “Both of you!”
You glanced back at your mom reluctantly as Matt shoved you in front of him. He walked behind you and your brother as you headed out into the hallway. Then, he herded you into the station breakroom.
There were a few tables and some chairs, but even though you were exhausted, you were too afraid to sit down. Scott leaned against one of the tables, still grasping his bloody side. You guessed the wound wasn’t fully healed yet. If the bullet hadn’t exited, it wouldn’t be able to close unless someone pulled it out.
“The evidence is gone,” Scott told him. “Why don’t you just go?”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “You really think the evidence mattered that much? No. No, I want the book.”
“What book?” Scott asked him,
“The bestiary!” Matt snarled. “And not just a few pages. I want the entire thing.”
“I don’t have it. It’s Gerard’s. You told him that, didn’t you?”
He was looking at you now. You shrugged. “I tried.”
Scott glanced back over at Matt. “What do you need it for, anyway?”
“I need answers.”
“Answers to what?”
Frustrated, Matt yanked up the edge of his shirt, revealing his scale-covered side. “To this!”
Scott’s eyes went wide. If Matt was turning into another kanima, there was nothing stopping him from killing whoever he wanted. When you looked at your brother’s face, you had the sneaking suspicion that you two would be next on his list.
------
Stiles laid on the floor of the station, staring up at the ceiling. The tiled floor was cold against his back, which was a welcome relief considering sweat was dripping down his neck. He wasn’t sure whether it was just hot in the station, or if he was nervous. If he was being honest, it was both.
He and Derek had been lying there for what felt like hours, but Stiles knew it was probably only thirty minutes.
“Hey,” he said, breaking the silence. “Do you know what’s happening to Matt?”
“I know the book’s not gonna help him,” Derek said grimly. “You can’t just break the rules. Not like this.”
Stiles tried to look over at him from the corner of his eye.
“What do you mean?”
“The universe balances things out. It always does.”
“Is it because he’s using Jackson to kill people who don’t deserve it?”
“And killing people himself,” Derek added.
Stiles thought for a moment. “So if he breaks the rules of the Kanima, he becomes the Kanima?”
“Balance,” Derek agreed.
“Will he believe us if we tell him that?”
“Probably not.”
Stiles sighed. “Okay, he’s gonna kill all of us once he gets that book, isn’t he?”
“Yep...except for maybe Scott’s sister.”
Stiles gritted his teeth. “I’m gonna kick his ass the second I can move again.”
“That’s a great way to get her throat ripped out too.”
Stiles didn’t respond. He knew Derek was right, but a part of him wanted to go after Matt without thinking about the consequences. He knew he had left those bruises on your neck. He knew that the minute you shattered Matt’s fantasy, he would kill you too. He had to do something before that happened.
“I know you’re in love with her.”
Stiles swallowed at Derek’s words. “Maybe.”
“I can tell. I know you’d do anything to save her, but right now, we need to be smarter.”
“Alright,” Stiles relented. “So what do we do? Do we just sit here and wait to die?”
“Unless I can figure out a way to push the toxin out of my body faster, like triggering the healing process.”
“Wha-”
He glanced down, only to realize that Derek’s claws were now protruding from his fingers. They had grown into his jeans, right into his skin, where blood was beginning to ooze.
Stiles gagged. “Oh, gross.”
-----
Back in the breakroom of the station, Matt shook his head, letting his shirt fall back down. He glanced between you and Scott.
“You know, I feel sorry for you guys. Cause right now you’re probably thinking ‘How am I gonna explain this when it heals?’. And the sad part is, you don’t even realize how incredible it is that you are healing. Cause you know what happens to anyone else when they get shot? They die!”
You and Scott exchanged uneasy glances.
“Is that what happened to you?” your brother asked.
Matt was silent. He was staring at the ground, but he didn’t look as vicious as he had earlier. He actually seemed kind of tired. Scott seemed to notice this too, so he continued to press.
“You drowned, didn’t you?”
“He shouldn’t have let them drink,” Matt muttered, still staring at the floor.
“What?” you asked. “Who? Matt, what do you mean?”
“Lahey!” He suddenly exploded. “He shouldn’t have let them drink.”
You flinched back, closer to your brother.
“What?” Scott asked. “Who was drinking?”
“The swim team, you idiot! I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know they had just won State…”
You and Scott listened to Matt as he went on and on. He explained how, when he was in eighth grade, he had been heading over to Isaac’s to trade comics. Mr. Lahey was throwing a party for his swim team and letting them drink around the pool. All of Matt’s victims had been there. Tucker, Cara, Bennett, even Jessica and Shawn, the married couple.
They were joking around when Matt came into the backyard, tossing each other into the pool. Isaac’s brother Camden decided to throw Matt in too. They didn’t know he couldn’t swim.
“And the next thing I know, I’m lying by the pool,” Matt explained. “And Lahey’s standing over me, and he’s saying ‘You don’t know how to swim? What little bastard doesn’t know how to swim? You say nothing. You tell no one.’ And I didn’t.”
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I would wake up every night, gasping for breath. My parents thought I was an asthamatic. They even got me and inhaler. They didn’t know that everytime I closed my eyes, I…I was drowning.”
He was silent for a few moments, and then he looked back at you and Scott. “And then came Kate Argent’s funeral.”
His lips began to curl into a smile as he explained how he had realized he and Jackson were bonded.
“I was taking some photos, and then, purely by accident, Lahey gets in one of them. I looked down at my camera, and I just had this unbelievable rage that filled up inside of me. I looked at him and I just...I wanted to see him dead.”
Matt let out a disbelieving laugh. “And the next day, he actually was! You know, Einstein was right. Imagination is more important than knowledge. It was like something out of Greek mythology, like...like the Furies coming down to punish Orestes.”
He looked over at Scott, who was staring at him, dumbfounded. Matt rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”
Scott swallowed. “Was that...was that the guy that stabbed out his eyes.”
“That’s Oedipus, you dumbass!” Matt barked.
His gaze snapped over at you. “You know what I’m talking about don’t you?”
You nodded carefully. “The furies were deities of vengeance, weren’t they?”
Matt nodded. “Their tears ran of blood and they had snakes for hair. If there was a crime that had gone unpunished, the Furies would do the punishing. Jackson is my Fury. You know, when I saw him the next night, I knew he had killed Lahey for me, and I knew he would do it again.”
Matt began to smile to himself again. “So I went to Tucker’s garage. I even paid for an oil change, and guess what? He didn’t even recognize me! So when he wasn’t looking, I took a shot of him with my camera...and in a few hours, he was dead. So I took more pictures. All I had to do was take their picture, and Jackson would take their life.”
You glanced over at Scott, who looked just as concerned as you were. Matt was giving no indication that he would stop the killings. You were pretty sure that he and Stiles were next on his list.
Scott opened his mouth, maybe to try and convince Matt to let you all go, but he never got the chance to speak. The thick, acrid smell of smoke filled the air, and suddenly the room was engulfed in a white cloud.
Sirens began to wail, echoing through the halls of the station. They let out a sharp, bleating sound that hurt your ears.
“What is this?!” Matt demanded. “What’s happening? What’s going on?!”
He suddenly reached out, snatching you by the arm.
“I don’t know!” Scott cried. “Y/n, where are you?”
“I’m right here!”
He reached out, trying to see if he could grab you, but Matt yanked you backward against him. He pressed his gun against your side and forced you out the nearest exit.
Bright yellow emergency lights began to flicker, illuminating the breakroom. Jackson passed you and Matt as you left the room. He was headed right toward Scott. You tried to pull out of his grasp, but he dug his nails into your arm.
“Scott!” you screamed.
“I’ll have Jackson rip your mom apart next,” he snarled.
He dragged you through the halls of the station, keeping the gun pressed tightly against your side. The smoke was starting to dissipate now, and the flashing lights ensured that Matt knew where he was going.
He shoved open a door and hauled you into a darkened garage. The long room was bordered by bay doors on one side. A few desks littered the room, but it was mostly filled with police squad cars or transport vans.
Matt dragged you past tool carts and spare tires, and you struggled not to trip.
“Please, Matt,” you begged. “Just let me go.”
“Shut up!” Matt snapped. He looked around frantically until he spotted a door with a glowing, red exit sign. He pushed you toward it and forced you outside.
Cool air hit your face as you stepped out into the night, but you didn’t have time to appreciate it. He broke into a run, keeping one hand on your arm as he pulled you further from the building. Panic began to build in your chest.
A couple hundred yards ahead, the clearing you and Matt were running through ended with a line of trees. There was a small creek running at the edge of it. Farther downstream, a bridge crossed over the water. Matt began to pull you in the opposite direction.
Suddenly, you stumbled, falling onto your knees in the grass. Matt reached down to haul you up, but when his guard was down, you knocked the gun out of his hand. It landed somewhere in the grass, and he was unable to see where it went in the dark.
You scrambled onto your feet as Matt felt for the gun in the grass, but when he realized you were running, he abandoned it.
“No!”
He tackled you to the ground before you could even make it five feet away, and the impact knocked the wind out of you.
You squirmed, but he quickly pinned you down into the grass.
“Get off me!” you gasped, but his hands were pressing your wrists into the grass.
He smiled down at you, but there was an empty look in his eyes. Your heart began to pound even harder against your chest.
“Do you remember when I said that I’m not the type of guy that’s gonna say something like ‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’?”
You writhed under him, but your exhaustion had caught up with you. He was much stronger, and now that he was turning into another kanima, you didn’t have a chance of fighting him off.
Matt didn’t wait for you to respond to him. He just kept talking and grinning down at you with that sick look in his eyes.
“See, that’s not entirely true,” he mused. “Because, Y/n, if I can’t have you. No one can.”
Then his hands were on your neck, squeezing. You fought him, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. He was going to kill you.
You reached up, scratching at his hands and wrists. You could feel his skin peeling away under your nails and the warm, wet blood you were drawing. Still, it wasn’t enough.
Your vision was beginning to cloud. Your attempts to fight him off were growing weaker by the second. All you could think of was Stiles.
The two of you always seemed to be saving each other in one way or another. This time, you had hoped he would be able to rescue you, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. You knew there was no use in hoping for anything else.
Instead, you tried to think about something good. As your mind wandered, you thought of Stiles’ honey brown eyes. You thought of the surprise and delight on his face when you said something funny that he hadn’t expected. You remembered the way he had kissed you the night at the rave, his hands warm on your cheeks.
Everything was beginning to go dark, but you were content. You swore you could hear Stiles’ voice, warm and soothing...and then it was gone.
You opened your eyes, taking one painful, gasping breath. Matt’s weight was no longer on top of you. You rolled over onto your side, desperately sucking in air as you struggled to lift yourself up into a sitting position in the grass.
You looked around, wondering what had happened. That was when you saw Matt being dragged down the hill by Gerard Argent, of all people. You didn’t understand what was happening at first, but then, Gerard threw him down into the bed of the creek.
Gerard waded out until he was knee-deep in the water. Then he grabbed Matt by his t-shirt and thrust his head under water. You watched, horrified, as he drowned him in the creek.
That was when you ran, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to make sure Gerard wouldn’t follow you. He didn’t even look up. Either he would come after you later, or he just didn’t care.
You sprinted past the bridge, only to have a pair of arms reach out and snatch you back. You opened your mouth to scream, but a hand clamped down over your lips, muffling the sound.
You were pushed up against the side of the bridge, the rough stone scraping against your back. When you saw who had grabbed you, your eyes went wide. It was Peter Hale.
It suddenly crossed your mind that maybe you hadn’t escaped Matt in the clearing. Maybe you were dead. Maybe that was why you were face to face with Peter, whose throat Derek had slashed open last month.
He held one finger to his lips as he stared down at you, and while you should have been terrified, you had the odd feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you.
“Watch,” he said quietly.
He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around, forcing you to look back at Matt and Gerard. You could see Matt’s motionless body floating in the water. Gerard was now standing up on the bank of the creek, his clothes still dripping wet. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. It didn’t seem to matter, because what you saw next told you everything you needed to know.
The Kanima was creeping out from the shadows, wandering toward Gerard on its hands and feet. Instead of running, Gerard lifted one arm and raised his palm. The Kanima moved closer, hesitantly. Then it lifted up one scaly, clawed hand, and touched its palm to Gerard’s.
He was now its master.
“Go,” Peter urged in your ear. “Tell your brother what you saw.”
You blinked up at him, confused. “Why?”
A smile played at the edge of Peter’s lips. “I have a feeling we’re all on the same team now.”
He let go of your shoulders and you slowly backed away from him, keeping your eyes trained on his shadowy form the entire time. When you were a few yards away, you turned your back and took off running toward the station.
Your chest was burning as you raced back toward Scott and the others. When you pushed open the doors of the station, several officers whirled around and trained their guns on you. You guessed Stiles’ dad had called for backup at some point.
As you threw up your hands, you were able to see the Sheriff, your mom, and Stiles all standing in the lobby.
“Y/n!” Stiles cried. “Oh thank god.”
The officers lowered their guns, and Stiles rushed over. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. You froze in his arms, not quite sure how to handle his touch. The feeling of being caged against him made your skin crawl. Though you hated to admit it, it reminded you of Matt.
He pulled away suddenly, realizing you weren’t reciprocating.
“Hey...are-are you okay?”
You shook your head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The lights of the station were too bright, and the sound of the deputies’ boots thumping on the floor caused you to flinch. You didn’t even know where to start.
Stiles watched in shock as you suddenly burst into tears. He wanted to reach out and hold you, but by the way you had just reacted, he was afraid to touch you.
“Oh, uh…”
Before he could think of anything to say, your mom rushed over and put a hand on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet, Sweetheart.”
She cast a sympathetic glance in Stiles’ direction and led you down the hall. The Sheriff followed after the two of you, no doubt planning to take your statement. Matt was nowhere to be found, and Stiles was willing to bet you knew what happened to him.
He wanted to follow, but he knew if he did, his dad would just kick him out of the room. You were a witness now, and they would need an official statement from you.
Scott came jogging down the hallway. Stiles realized he must have heard you come back.
By then, the door to the office you had disappeared into was shut.
Scott headed over to Stiles. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Stiles admitted. “But I don’t think your sister’s okay.”
#teen wolf#teen wolf imagines#selfignitingimagines#stiles stilinski#stiles stilinski imagines#@screamxqueenx94#tw kidnapping#tw stalking
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Obey Me [Dark!Ezra Prospect x F!Reader] SMUT
Summary: After you run out on a trading discussion with other Prospectors, and embarrass Ezra, he is left no choice but to punish you for your bad behaviour.
Warnings: 18+ SMUT, dark!Ezra, unprotected p in v, fingering, edging, slapping, spitting, choking, bondage, very rough, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamic.
Word count: 2200>
Author’s Note: I say this every time but I truly do have a hard time writing for Ezra so I’d like to thank my best friend @honeymandos for tolerating my questions and helping me gain a better understanding off the Prospect universe. Also there’s a very high chance we will both work together in expanding this Dark!Ezra type thing in the future so let us know if it’s something you’d be willing to read more of. <3
Masterlist
“Are you mad at me?” you asked Ezra after approximately an hour of silence. Stupid question. He was about five feet ahead of you, trudging through the long grass as he headed back to the tent. He was definitely mad and he hadn’t said a word to you since he dragged you out of the mercenaries’ camp. You’d caused a scene— but it wasn’t your fault.
The mercs were disrespecting you, and Ezra had messed up. They had offered aurlac at a good price, almost too good to be true. You’d illustrated your concerns to Ezra from the get-go but as always, he didn’t care what you thought. He pushed your feelings to one side, choosing to listen to himself and himself only. He never played by anyone else’s rules.
When the mercenaries began to call you, part of you waited for Ezra to intervene. Once upon a time he would’ve, but either obtaining aurlac was too important to him, or he’d been so caught up in his ability to use you and degrade you in your private time, he’d become accepting of others treating you that way too. If that was true, you weren’t happy. You could take care of yourself, but still, part of you wished that Ezra would just defend you when scoundrels and crime syndicates such as the mercenaries tried testing your patience.
Another hour passed by and it irked you that he was giving you the silent treatment. He couldn’t be mad at you for running off. Yeah, he hadn’t secured the aurlac like planned, but you were convinced he wouldn’t have ended up with it anyway. They were too suspicious and they displayed the weirdest cult-like behaviour. If it wasn’t for you trying to escape the camp, who knows what would’ve happened.
But according to Ezra, you had sabotaged his whole plan.
He didn’t say a word to you until you had finally arrived back to base.
“I warned you,” Ezra growled, pushing you into a corner. His sudden application of force made you stumble and knock over a few ornaments and items of clutter that decorated your shared pod. With a series of loud crashing sounds, they fell to the ground, but Ezra seemed completely unfazed. You’d think after hours not complete silence, he would’ve calmed down, but evidently not. “Why do you never listen to me, hm? Why are you so disobedient?” he continued, leaning into you so close his face was only centimeters away from yours. You could feel the way his breath fanned over your ear and the sheer warmth of it was intoxicating. You had missed this. You’d missed this kind of proximity with him. It only made you yearn for more.
His voice wasn’t like the usual sweet melody. It was rasp and abrasive. The comments he made were in the form of little snaps and all his questions were rhetoric, as you later found out. He was being so condescending, talking down to you like you were nothing more than worthless inconvenience. If he spoke to you like this when you had first met, you probably would’ve cried. Ezra could be hurtful - maybe even toxic to a degree - but you had known him long enough to know that he did have genuine care for you. This was illustrated through his possessive nature and the way he always put your safety before his own. You had come to learn that this side of Ezra was like an act, and you only encouraged it.
You swallowed, your gaze flicking to the ground as his large hand caressed your stomach. “I don’t… I uhm… I don’t…” you felt yourself become increasingly more flustered as you tried to desperately search for words. It was like he cast you under a spell. You were always so witty, you and Ezra could go for days fighting over who gets the last word. But right now…
“Aw, cat got your tongue?” Ezra chuckled. But his laugh wasn’t warm and welcoming, it was sinister. It was enough to make your heart slam against your chest. He gave your hip a little pinch before removing his gloves and slapping you across the face. You gasped, your shoulders curling inwards and you felt smaller than ever as you sunk down the wall behind you. Your face stung at his action and you shot him a glare.
“Fuck you.” you spat, rubbing the skin that would be burning red in just a few moments.
“I might just take you up on that.” he snarled, bringing the same hand to the column of your neck and wrapping his fingers around it. He squeezed gently at first, and a pathetic little moan escaped your lips. His honey brown eyes darkened with desire at the noise you made as it went straight to his cock.
“You like it when I choke you, huh?” he cooed, his thumb softly grazing the height of your cheekbone before squeezing your neck again, significantly harder this time. Your eyes snapped shut and you gasped, arching your back and pushing your body into his. The constant shift in his demeanor was getting you riled up as you never knew what to expect from him. Soft delicate touches or another slap to the face. He was the one who got to decide, not you. You knew better than to talk back, but still, where was the fun in that?
“You could do it harder.” you smirked playfully, not even sure why you would put that idea in his head. He scoffed, his mouth parting slightly in disbelief before slapping you again in the exact same place as before. You winced, already feeling your eyes become glazed, but ignoring the painful sensation, you offered him a pout of discontentment. He dabbed his finger in the corner of your eye, wiping away a tear, before dragging the same digit down your sore cheek and across your plush lips.
“I’m sure you could put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use.” Ezra growled, reaching down to unzip his pants and pull out his cock.
Within minutes he had you pinned to the floor, completely naked, your arms and legs spread out. He hovered over you, his aching cock in his hand— hard and heavy. He’d left you with no choice but to submit to him. Your arms had been binded up with rope and he’d tied you to the pipes. You couldn’t free yourself if you tried, and you knew better than to resist him.
“When will you learn your lesson?” Ezra asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow as he squeezed your tit. He ran his thumb over your hardening nipple and gave it a little pinch.
“Never.” you gritted out, only to see Ezra’s smirk grow wider.
He hummed casually before positioning himself in between your legs and pushing his thick length inside of you with absolute no warning. Your body jolted with pleasure and you went to grab him, forgetting that you’d been tied up. Your wrists immediately sprung back to position as the pipes on the walls rattled. “Ezra!” you gasped as he settled inside of you. “Fuck— oh my god Ezra.”
He chuckled darkly, spitting on your face and rubbing his saliva into your raw red cheek. Ezra nudged the curve of his nose against yours. Then, his fingers did a little dance across your skin before he brought them down to your aching cunt, beginning to perform an assault on your clit. He was still buried deep inside you as he rubbed your bundle of nerves in tight little circles. He was a pro at many things, but you couldn’t help but feel that he was the absolute best at navigating your body and knowing the best ways to make you feel good.
“Ezra, please.” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes tight shut. He didn’t like that one bit.
“Look at me.” Ezra demanded but his tone was completely lost on you as you felt yourself begin to see stars. Ezra felt it too— the way your pussy clenched around his cock like a vice, signifying that you were close. You mumbled something incoherent, shaking your head as your thighs began to involuntarily twitch. “Look at me, whore.” Ezra drawled out again, staring at you intently as your face screwed up with pleasure. Sighing upon seeing that you had reverted back to your old disobedient ways, Ezra pulled his hand away from your cunt and tutted.
“No!” you cried out as he deprived you from your orgasm. He was still nestled into you, balls deep, not moving.
“I told you to look at me.” Ezra whispered lowly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. You were too busy getting lost in his touch, you hadn’t even realised his instruction. In that moment you hated him for edging you. He knew fine well you were close, but this was just one of Ezra’s typical ways of taking back control.
“Ezra,” you gritted out. “I need you to fuck me.”
“Now, you don’t get to decide that.” Ezra chastised, shaking his head.
“Ezra— please. Fucking— ngh, please move. Please move.” You chanted.
“You act like a brat all day and then you switch up the second I lay my hand on you… beggin’ for more.” Ezra observed. He brought his finger back up to your lips and pushed the digit into your mouth. “Suck.” he commanded, and you did so, willingly. You weren’t in the mood for messing with him anymore. You just ached for him to fuck his seed into you. You knew that he’d reward your good behaviour.
Once he was satisfied that you had licked your juices clean from him, he pulled his finger away from your lips and smiled. It was the smile you had fallen in love with— the smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and a dimple appear in the left of his cheek. “Good girl.” he praised before giving your neck a quick squeeze.
You wanted to plead with him— do anything to get him to move, but you knew that the most you could do was just stay quiet and obey him. Obligate to his every demand.
And it worked. You supposed he was struggling to last too, just stilling inside of you. He wanted to move. He wanted to fuck you just as much as you wanted to be fucked by him. He wanted to show you who was the boss and why you should never— ever— embarrass him like you had done earlier in front of the mercenaries.
His pace was fast and brutal, and his hands roughly palmed at your breasts. Ezra’s gaze flicked down from your scrunched up face to your cunt where he fucked you relentlessly. He watched as your pussy swallowed his cock and he praised you for taking him so well. His once articulate nature had been lost amidst the haze of lust that clouded his vision, and he had succumbed to whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You felt so perfect, your soft walls wrapped around him. Only a few lanterns illuminated the tent. Your folds were glistening under the artificial amber light, slick with your arousal.
It wasn’t long before you began to jerk your own hips, meeting his thrusts desperately as his balls slapped against your skin. His large hands grabbed onto your thighs as he steadied you, and this time, it was his eyes that had snapped shut. He was close. You could feel it. His lewd moans filled the confines of the tent and you his cock throbbed inside of you. Just the feeling of him filling you up like that was enough to send you over the edge.
Your walls clamped down around him and he slammed his cock into you one last time, as deep as he could before his ropes of cum spurted inside of you. He choked as his orgasm washed over him, and you felt your walls flutter in delight as his cock pulsed inside of you.
When he pulled out of you, you moaned at the loss of fullness, and Ezra rose to his feet and untied you from the pipes.
“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, taking your hand and helping you stand.
“For now.” you taunted back, shooting him your most innocent look as if he hadn’t just absolutely railed you. Ezra hummed, ignoring the way his softening cock twitched at the way you fluttered your eyelashes. You had him wrapped around your little finger.
“For now.” he repeated, his tone ominous as he contemplated your words. He pulled open the blankets on the bed and gestured for you to make yourself comfortable. It was the least you deserved after being binded to the floor for the last half an hour. “Rest well, little birdie.” he muttered, stalking around the tent and turning the lanterns off one by one.
“Good night Ezra.”
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Heyooo I legit just found u bc of the bakugo series, and then I went on a spree reading your account- ugh I’m in love!!! Do you think you could tag me when part 3 comes out?
Ahhh! Thank you so much! ❤️ You guys have no idea how much a few words of encouragement means to writers 😭.
No need to tag tho because here it is!!!!! 😃
Sorry it took so long. I wanted to write it as best as I could! I don’t want disappoint anyone who’s been enjoying so far. ☺️
~~
All Bark No Bite (pt. 3)
(Final part)
Bakugo angst + ~sexual tensionnn~
Please, children avert your eyes. Things get a LITTLE inappropriate here 😳
Read part 1 and part 2
wc: 2.4k
He’s an asshole...but he’s a HOT asshole 🤤
You’d never seen his room before. It was much different than you’d imagined. You’d expected burn marks all over the walls or blown up debris of things scattered about. Maybe a bunch of mirrors so he could look at his self-confident, conceited ass all night. But actually it was kinda of nice. Pretty neat. He had some posters hung up and some books laying around. Black sheets and blankets. And it smelled oddly sweet in here, sort of pleasant believe it or not.
You’re so used to him yelling and exploding so it was weird seeing him so relaxed, in his natural habitat. Doing normal things. Like eating a snack, tapping his pencil in concentration, fidgeting with his hair. He even spun around in his rolling chair a few times mindlessly. He was acting sort of...cute? It was unnerving being attracted to him like this.
But as soon as he noticed you watching him it was all over. You were making him self conscious. He didn’t even realize he’d let his guard down like that.
“That makes absolutely no sense, dumbass.” His voice was bored and over it.
“What are you talking about!? I’ve explained it three times!” You retorted indignantly.
“Exactly. I thought you were smarter than this...” He jabbed before turning around and flipping his notebook shut.
You’d spent twenty minutes attempting to teach him what he’d missed in class earlier today but he was insufferable. Easily the worst student on the planet. Every time you explained something he’d tell you how to teach it better. Who does that!?
“Whatever moron. I didn’t come up here to try and teach your pea brain. I—“ The words were harder to say than you’d expected. Painful actually. They really didn’t want to come out. “I just wanted to say sorry for getting you—“
He whipped a pencil and it hit you directly in the forehead.
“Ouch, what the fuck?” You hissed, rubbing the sore spot. How’d he get so much damn power behind that thing?
“Don’t apologize. It’s weird.”
“What!?” You threw the pencil back but only managed to hit his shoulder.
“Anyways...” He ignored you, completely unfazed by your assault.
“You’re easily the most—“
“Anyways...” You swore if he cut you off one more time you were going to smack the shit out of him. “Aizawa thinks you’ve lost your mind.”
The unexpected information took you aback.
“He saw you try and get yourself blown up in class yesterday... No sane person is stupid enough to pull a move like you did.”
Ah yes... he meant the time you wrapped the man’s hand around your neck, tauntingly, in front of like 20 classmates and two teachers. You’d been trying to avoid asking yourself the question of why you did that. You claimed it was the best way to shut him up....but there were other ways to do that. More reasonable ones. You wouldn’t admit you’d daydreamed of doing it before and subconsciously took the opportunity. Red embarrassment flashed through your body again. God knows what they were all thinking when they witnessed that. You desperately wished people would stop reminding you.
Suddenly the need to defend yourself bubbled up. “I—I only did that because I knew you wouldn’t do anything.”
He scoffed. But didn’t deny it. “If you’re going to try something stupid. At least do it right.” He chastised.
Your body froze as he stood up and walked over, crouching down directly in front of you.
“If I wanted to choke you. I’d do it like this.”
He wrapped his hand around your neck. Demonstrating the best way to actually cut off someone’s air flow. But he did it so gently you barely even heard his explanation. You were just flashing back to last night. Instantly your entire body lit on fire. Replaying this scene in your head was strong enough. But reenacting had you completely out of sorts. Kissing him again but this time going full out. You wanted to bite him, just to hear him make that deep moan into your mouth again. Just imagining it was making you flutter. Aching to have him pressed up against you like that, relieving some of this pressure that was building up in your body. You felt yourself unraveling. About to pounce.
But he interjected with something that stunned you once again. “The way you did it would be better for...other forms of choking.”
Dear god. Surely he knew what he was doing to you. If he kept this up any longer your heart or your lungs were definitely going to give out.
But you mustered up your last two brain cells that weren’t absolutely losing their shit over him and carried on with your normal banter.
“Yea yea, I get it. You can stop now.”
He didn’t budge. His hand still snug around your throat. You obviously didn’t mind it there but it was incapacitating your brain function.
You gently pushed it away and he didn’t resist. But where he put it next was no better.
He traced the side of your cheek and along the outline of your lips. Just staring at them, eyes lost like he was thinking deeply about something. He wasn’t giving you a moment of a break. No room to breathe.
Your nerves were through the roof, your heart was beating so loud you could hear it in your ears. Desperately you tried to change the topic. “So is this your attempt at being nice? Advice on how to murder someone?” It’s amazing how your mouth just spewed shit out even though your brain was actually dead.
“Sure.” Now he was tugging at your bottom lip. Completely unbothered by you baiting him.
“Ah. A nice Bakugo? I must be having a dream. I guess now that you’ve lost to me your whole tough guy persona has been killed.”
That snapped him out of it. But now he was looking just as intensely, directly into your eyes.
“Don’t push it.”
“Or what?” Faking composure was coming so easily much to your relief.
“Do you want to find out?” He growled.
“You’re not scary.” You said rolling your eyes as hard as possible.
Something snapped in him. He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Within a moment he had you on your back. Your body didn’t even have time to process. Even if it did, would you have stopped him? He trapped both your wrists on either side of your head and your feet under his ankles. His arms looked glorious as he held up is body weight.
“How about now?” His voice was deep and savory.
There he went. Invading your mind again. His scent. That lust-filled look in his eyes. The way he was thoroughly enjoying being on top of you. The adrenaline was coiling through your body. He had you right where he wanted you. He could do anything he wanted to you. But that “annoying little mouth of yours” wasn’t done quite yet.
“Whatever. You always do this. But you won’t actually try anything.”
“You think I wouldn’t hurt you at all? I literally want to kill you sometimes.” He had a smug little grin on his face. But his eyes couldn’t pull themselves from your lips. After experiencing them once he could barely stop thinking about them.
“You’re telling me? I fucking hate you.” You lied.
It made his smirk form into that wicked, shit-eating grin he always wore. The one that gets deep under your skin and makes you want to punch him in the throat and yank him onto you at the same time.
“Kissing someone is a weird way to tell them you hate them.” He was really cutting into you now.
You hissed. “Hey. You kissed me.”
“You kissed me back.” He raised an annoying little eyebrow.
Your brain wanted to choke him (the murder kind) but your body was screaming something completely different. The emotions swirling around in your chest was so overwhelming. Finally you burst.
You trapped one of his arms and corresponding leg and threw your weight to roll on top of him. One of your favorite moves from self-defense class that you knew would come in handy. Now you straddled him and using every ounce of your weight tried to pin his wrists down.
You expected him to fight you like the vicious little monster he is. But instead when you looked down he was just staring back at you. You were stunned at how good he looked at this angle. Did he have any bad angles?
“Finally. You made a move.” He said pretending to sound impressed. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Yea well...” You scoffed proudly. “you think you’re so fucking tough. Now looo—“
The words flew out of your mouth and you were tumbling again. This time he just grabbed your waist and tugged you with brute force. No technique needed. He easily overpowered you.
“Yea, that wasn’t going to work out. It was a cute try though, Little Bite.”
He laid directly on top of you now. Your legs spread as he rested his hips between them. His full weight pressed into you making it flutter. Your arms had somehow wrapped themselves around his neck and rested on his back.
The tension in the air made it difficult to breathe. But you were fully unconcerned with getting oxygen right now.
Nose to nose now he said “We’ll just count this as my rematch. Clearly I won.”
“You suck at flirting.”
Flirting? Where’d that come from?
“Seems like it’s working pretty good to me.”
That smug fucking face again.
“You’re such an ass.”
He bit his lip.
“Fuck...I love when you insult me like that.”
A beat passed and that was all it took. You smashed his lips onto yours. Wrapping your legs around him and squeezing. Too close wasn’t close enough.
He kissed you like he wanted you bad. Like you were his favorite meal and he was absolutely famished. It was so intense and passionate that neither of you could catch any air. Every insult, all the bickering, every jab had built up to this moment and was fueling it like gas to a forest fire.
His warmth was overtaking you. His body was so heavy, crushing you just liked you’d been daydreaming about all this time.
Your mind shut down all functions except desperately trying to use all five senses to their max capacity and commit every bit of him to memory.
He felt you pawing at the edge of his shirt and sat up. He peeled it off slowly. Letting your eyes adjust to every inch of him.
Your hands were instantly stroking every one of his muscles starting at his shoulders and trailing down his soft skin slowly...slowly to the edge of his jeans. Your index finger sat teasingly on the front button as you admired his perfectly toned body.
But before you even had time to think about what you wanted to do next he took your wrist and secured it down above your head again.
He dipped down and went straight for your neck.
Greeting it with a warm wet kiss from his tongue, his lips wrapped around your skin and sucked gently. You felt the blood pooled with pleasure rushing to the area. His other hand started exploring your body. Finally he was getting to put his hands on you the way he really wanted all along.
After you started tugging on his hair, desperately trying to avoid any scandalous hickeys he rolled you around again.
Letting you on top to straddle his hips. Giving you only a little bit of freedom though, as he locked one arm around your waist and the other started caressing your thighs slowly working his way north.
After squeezing your ass until his heart was content he clamped down both hands on your hips. You couldn’t bare it anymore. Your hips started gently grinding against him and you bit down on his neck all at once. You felt the angle of his pelvis rubbing into you creating little rumbles of pleasure.
“Fuck y/n..” he muttered under his breath.
You both were getting more and more bothered and aroused. His hands never stopped grabbing and tugging at you. His moans growing more fervent as he whispered into your ear.
He was just toying with the idea of peeling off your shirt when...
“THIS IS THE POLICE! COME OUT!”
Your soul practically rose out of your body as a loud bang almost broke the door down. Bakugo’s hand slapped over your mouth. You’d screamed without realizing it.
Kaminari’s laugh sounded through the door. “Oh my god Bakugo! You scream like a girl!”
Mina shrieked. “No, stupid! Y/n are you in there!?”
Your life was ending.
“Get the fuck out of here before I come out there and break your skulls!” Bakugo barked at them.
They didn’t say anything but you heard their quick footsteps as they ran down the hall still shrieking like banshees.
“Oh god..” you groaned as you tried to roll away from him, using his bare chest to push off.
But he wouldn’t let you go. “Where are you going?”
“Aren’t you going to go hunt them down and threaten them or something.” Typical Bakugo behavior.
“No, I’m busy.”
You had to stop your mouth from falling open.
“They’re probably going to tell everyone.” You prodded. Expecting his temper any second now. Like he was a bomb about to go off. You pulled away again in preparation, sitting fully upright now.
“I’ll deal with them tomorrow. I’m dealing with you tonight. Now get back over here before I get mad.”
You shrieked as he muscled you back into his arms. He bent you back around him as snugly as he could. Moving your chin to the side, he kissed your neck, sweeter this time. Instinctively your hands ran through his hair. Fuck the rest of them. You could get lost in this hot head all night. And you were as he started gently sucking on your soft spots again.
But he pulled away abruptly. Like he’d just realized something. “How are you gonna become a pro hero if a moron like Denki can scare you like that?”
You smacked the back of your idiot’s head lightly. “Don’t fucking ruin it.” You groaned.
“Fine.” He grinned as he went in for the kiss that started the rest your next piping hot and sticky couple of hours together.
~💥💥
TADAAA! What did you guys think?? What was your favorite part overall?
I’d love hearing your thoughts and opinions 😃 makes me a better writer
Also special shout-out to @jennammaee ! Pt. 2 of this series has been my most successful post yet, so thanks for encouraging me to write it!!
Tags: @sweetsailor000 @yumxmii @fullsundear @frosted-flakes @marloalmore @aprilbouz01 @deneuves @softestparker @davidbowiehotashell-blog @mocha-focha @piii-chan @v0dkadaddy @xxjosiexx
#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x y/n#katsuki bakugo angst#bakugo angst#mha bakugou#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#bakugo#bnha bakugou#bakudeku#bakusquad#bakugo smut#katsuki bakugo imagine#bakugo imagine#bakugo katsuki scenarios#bakugo scenarios#bakugo fanfic#bakugo mha#mha angst#mha#mha smut#mha imagines#mha fanfiction
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constant craving | jjk
⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader
⇢ genre: drabble series, angst, unrequited love, idiot!jungkook, idiot!oc, basically everyone's an idiot
⇢ word count: 1.7k
⇢ warnings: unreciprocated pining, explicit language, themes of hopeless romanticism (!!), (slightly) unedited
⇢ summary: your best friend decided to confide in his best friend on how to win his girlfriend back after a fight. you tell him exactly what to say to her, however he is unaware that what you were saying was a sincere delivery of your once undeclared love.
♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪
╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)
a/n: hello my little loves!! this was definitely ;) not ;) an impulse write and release ;) ;) sorry for being so inactive lately. i've been focusing on myself (i know how cliche that sounds but it's true). anyway, enjoy this incredibly angsts fic i wrote at 2 am for absolutely no reason at all other than i'm an emotional sadist and a masochist. love u!!!! <3
part one: control
He was coming over for the third time this week. Third time. Three times is two more times than he'd gone over his girlfriend's house, but you did everything in your power to convince your inconvincible heart that it meant nothing. Friends see each other more than their girlfriends, right?
It was making a racket in your chest, that muscle that strained much harder for a man who had his pumping for the girl of his dreams.
But, he was coming over for the third time this week.
The first time he said this visit ranked, in his words, 'out of the question' on the degree of necessary that he come over and show you Star Wars. You played a good game of reluctance when asking if it was the entire series or just one movie, and in your head, you hoped to God it was the entire series. For him, you'd watch the series four times over if it meant you sat through this outrageously nerdy movie next to the even more outrageously nerdy love of your life.
The second time was particularly funny to you. He called while you were cooking dinner, almost as if he was in stride with you in a way that was an ounce too synchronized to be platonic, and asked if you were whipping up a delicious meal that he could mooch off of. Knowing he was a terrible cook, plus the fact that when he begged so politely you felt your posture unbind into to a puddle, you more than happily obliged.
This time, the circumstances made it harder to say yes, but not yet impossible. And it was a second or two before you heard that knock on the front door that had your once pounding heart come to a complete halt. It was still, waiting for you to make a decision.
Since it was Jungkook, of course, you'd say yes. And your heart would continue beating. Beating, as in sending sharp jabs that stained the inside of your chest with bruises. Beating, as in when the time came, the final blow of your constantly craving heart would devastate your entire being.
"Thank you so much, ___. God, I'm such an idiot." He walked in with all the confidence of someone who was a bit too familiar with your company. Jungkook's feet reintroducing themselves to your floors in the same manner as he would the night before, and the night before that, and the countless nights you kept secured in your collection of memories. As if he belonged there; as if he was coming home.
"An idiot with a great friend." That last word nearly withdrew the bile you had been ever so gracefully holding in.
"Yeah yeah." And he was comfortable with that same word, 'friend', that deepened your bruises into scars. He had absolutely no clue. Idiot. "I can't believe I broke up with her. I was so angry and acted on that instead of logic. Fuck, why would I do that to myself? I love her."
"Well, you never know. Maybe..." You hated yourself for not resisting the selfish temptation that was about to fall from your lips. The words you've been internally screaming to him to leave her and fall in love with you instead were diluted to something much more tame when your tongue formed them into sound.
"Maybe it was for the best. Maybe you guys are better off apart? To, um, grow or whatever."
"No." He said that with too much certainty and too little hesitance and just enough conviction to sink another wound in the organ exhausting itself in your chest. "She's the one. I know it"
"Jungkook."
He looked at you with all the earnestness of a man who carved his utmost and unchanging dedication to her. A look that any love-induced sap would kill for. A look he would never direct towards you.
Your eyes weren't under your control as of now. The glue that held them to his eyes, his lips, his hair, and every other part of him you dreamed of was more than a marathoned yearning. It was an adhesive twelve years in the making, not showing the slightest sign of wearing away.
"The way you love is something to die for..." And then he smiled at you, but still not for you.
You were utterly crushed.
"She'll take you back in a heartbeat. I mean, she has a brain, so of course, she will. Anyone would."
I would.
"I hope you're right." The couch was four feet wide at most, but there was an impressively vast space between you and the man who was sitting next to you. "Can you tell me what to say? You know I suck with words."
"Uh... Yeah. Of course. Anything."
If breaking hearts were a crime, then Jungkook would have much to atone for. You'd be convicted as a willing accomplice for holding on this long. Up until this point, you've let every small glance, every shy smile he sent your way, every eyebrow twitch conveying a meaning only you knew well enough to retrieve him from whatever awkward situation he needed rescuing from, every accidentally brush of his hand against yours, every purposeful embrace that lasted so long your tears stained his right shoulder string you into a knot of miserable, unrequited love.
And up until this point, you had hope he would choose you.
Each ring of his phone worked in tandem to reduce your undying devotion to Jungkook into a compressed seed of denial.
I don't love him. He's just my best friend.
Your pulse pronounced itself loudly in your ears, as a not-so-gentle reminder of how much you hated him for loving him. Somehow, your heart beat faster. Then again, anything was possible when it came to him. Anything except the miraculous event of him hanging up, declaring his love for you, and living in the land of happily ever after that only existed in your deluded imagination.
"Hey Irene! I'm so fucking glad you picked up."
He gave you that look. With the arched eyebrow, his widened doe eyes, and the slightly hung jaw, you read each feature better than words and nodded to signal you knew exactly what he needed.
"I'm sorry about what happened." You said, in a whisper, though the deflated volume of your words carried no implication of the unbridled sincerity sealed in them.
"I'm sorry about what happened." He repeated, laying down that same Irene-contrived smile on you that fostered a smile of your own, knowing fully it surfaced as a reflex from hearing her voice.
"It might be crazy to try this, because I don't know how you feel."
If the thing people say about your life flashing before your eyes during encounters with death, then you were sure your heart was about to consume its last pulse of blood. The scenes of you and Jungkook spending your Friday nights when you were a ripe city dweller in your shoebox apartment doing everything and nothing at all had convinced you that you were certainly about to go into cardiac arrest.
"It might be crazy to say this, because I don't know how you feel." Jungkook was so many things, however emotionally perceptive was not one of them.
"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you." Those words tasted sweet despite fermenting in a chamber of your heart you kept preserved since, as you said, the very moment you met him.
"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you."
"No matter what, I'd choose you. It doesn't matter how mad I am or how annoyed I am, I will choose you because if I know anything in this damn, cruel, punishing world, then I know that I'd rather be angry, annoyed, or anything else with you than without you."
He repeated your words, but dehydrated all of your sentiment from them. You were left with the remnants of the feelings, and none of the words from him you were so desperately starved of. He took them right from your throat, along with the very breath that seemed to keep returning because of Jungkook, molded them into his own, into a sequence of sounds that were meant for Irene. You were left hungry, breathless, and forever wanting.
"No matter what, I'd choose you. It doesn't matter how mad I am or how annoyed I am, I will choose you because if I know anything in this damn, cruel, punishing world, then I know that I'd rather be angry, annoyed, or anything else with you than without you."
Irene must have been smiling right about now. Who wouldn't smile hearing those things from someone like Jungkook?
"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."
Then, you began to ask yourself another question.
If you make me complete, Jungkook, will my story ever end?
You knew the answer to that. You swore your heart beat in a morse code that told you everything you needed to know.
"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."
Jungkook looked to you, before Irene could form the proper response, and smiled. It was the third time he smiled at you today because of course, you were keeping track. You knew it was his own physically linguistic version of a 'thank you' or a 'you're a life saver' but somehow, to you, it translated to something similar to a 'goodbye'.
Your legs miraculously rose and carried you to the back porch. The sun was just beginning to dip in the horizon, proliferating a warm orange that was about to subside to an indistinguishable and unpredictable dusk. Whatever color came after the sunset, you were ready to accept it, to memorize how it reflected against a world without the possibility of him. And even though the night will always embody undertones of orange, it was time to focus on the colors around it.
It was time to let go.
a/n: i might make this into a drabble series!!! if anyone would be interested in that please let me know :)) thank you for readinggggg <3
#bangtanarmynet#btsgoldnet#ficswithluv#bts fanfic#bts angst#bts writing#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook angst#bts drabble#jungkook drabble#jungkook#constant craving#rubycoast
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