#jtk x reader
Text
The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 4)
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader
Word Count: 18.0k
Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Embarrassment, Lying, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Oral M! Receiving, Oral F! Receiving, Protected Sex.
Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify
A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.
"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."
AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS
HER POV
Thirteen hours.
It had been thirteen long hours since you last saw Jake, leaving your room in a hurry of flustered nerves. You were dreading it, but he was nowhere to be found this morning, not a sight or sound from him since late last night. It had been ten hours since his text, coming to you far too early in the morning for your liking. He was sorry. Of course he was sorry. The text came so early in fact, that part of you wondered if he was just arriving back to the hotel from the amp situation, or if he was tossing and turning in his bed in much the same way you were. You loaded into the van bright and early with Wes and Paul, secretly wondering where he was or if he was going to show up at all, but if you had to guess he was likely passed out in his bed five floors up.
Your market list today was short, only a few things for Josh and Sam and the noticeable absence of normal requests from Jake. You didn’t think much of it, getting what you needed before making the trek back to the venue. You took the spare second to give Ruth a quick run down and she was just as confused as you were. For once in her life she had nothing to say. She was speechless and you didn’t blame her.
She insisted you reply to Jake’s early morning text, but you couldn’t. You had no idea where to even start. You wanted to move forward and forget it ever happened, and in order to do that you needed to leave last night behind you. Right? You know that when you do see him today though, things will be tense. Maybe even a little awkward. You take solace in the fact that you will be busy the entire day, making it fairly easy to avoid him and forget about everything, you hoped.
You made your way back into the crew area, flashing your shiny laminated badge to security as you juggle the paper bags in your arms. You navigate the winding corridors of the venue hearing the sounds of rumbling bass and guitar echo through the halls, finding yourself smiling at the fact that this was a sound not many people got to experience. Jake must have made it here after all. Familiar voices laughing a few feet ahead of you snap you back to reality. You see Mia and Lyla hanging out in front of the greenroom, looking at something on one of their phones just as they spot you.
“Y/N! Hey!” Mia shouts, waving you over, “C’mere!”
You turn to head over towards them, stopping short as Lyla grabs one of the bags from your arms. “I’ll take one of those!”
“Oh, thanks!” you smile, feeling Mia place her hand on your arm.
“We just were talking a little while ago about how much fun we had with you yesterday. I know you don’t really know us that well yet, but you are welcome to hang with us whenever you want. Seriously. We want to get to know you, we need another girl on our side!”
“That’s so nice! Thank you so much, I appreciate that, really,” you answer, adjusting your grip on the bag in your hand. “I will take you up on that, yesterday was really cool.”
“Yeah, so what did you get into after we went back to the hotel?” Lyla asks, tilting her head a bit.
“Oh, I just…I went to my room and hung out for a while, went and did a little sightseeing of my own and ordered room service and fell asleep. I was pretty exhausted after walking all day,” you say, bending the truth just a touch.
“Huh, well, call us next time, hate for you to go out all alone,” Mia says, raising an eyebrow as she turns to Lyla. It almost seems as if she's waiting for you to correct her.
It strikes you as a little suspicious but you know better than to play into it. “Yeah, absolutely. But hey I have to go get this set up, they will be looking for it any second.”
“Yeah yeah, no problem, go, I know how Sam gets,” Lyla laughs, handing the bag back to you.
“Thanks again, I’ll find you two later!” you shout over your shoulder.
You rush into the greenroom, furiously arranging the food and drinks before soundcheck finishes. You want to get things set up, done, and be gone before they ever step foot in the room. Sure you told yourself you were going to be mature about things, but you weren’t going to put yourself in the line of fire. In fact, you had yet to see any of the guys today, and part of you was thankful. Trying to make awkward small talk with them was the absolute last thing you wanted to do right now.
You wipe your hands on your pants as you finish placing the drinks into the cooler, feeling your phone buzz in your back pocket.
Paul
3:43PM: Need another case of Topos and a bottle of soda water please
Fuck, where was this text an hour ago?
You
3:44PM: No problem, be back soon.
—
Two stores and thirty minutes later you are walking back to the venue, braving the cold with the case of drinks and bottle of soda water in hand. Your jacket is zipped all the way up to your neck, and still the wind is whipping right through you. You can see the venue gates a block away but the wind is making it feel like ten. Again you flash your badge to security, the burly man opening the gates to let you into the back parking lot. As you turn the corner to approach the entrance, you’re stopped in your tracks. Standing outside the doors, leaning against the brick wall is Jake. Of course.
He doesn’t see you, not yet at least. His back is turned a bit to cut the wind. Clad in only a t-shirt and his corduroy jacket, you know he is freezing. The smoke billows from his lips, whooshing away quickly as the wind whips it into the air. His lips. His perfectly pink, heart shaped lips that were all over your body last night. Kissing and biting and… No. Stop it. You try to compose yourself, gripping the items in your hands as you head toward the door, prepared to say as little as possible to him, and walk straight inside.
That of course, did not happen.
“Have any trouble finding it?” he asks, turning to meet your eyes as he rolls his smoke out between his fingers, dropping the burnt tobacco into the grass.
“Oh, um, no no, all good,” you answer nervously. Which was also a lie, you were kinda sweating finding the Topos for a second.
Your eyes catch on his jacket, your mind swirling with the memory of his cologne that lingers in its fibers. You feel a tinge of happiness in your chest at the fact he is talking to you, though, why wouldn’t he be? You didn’t do anything wrong. You watch his lips twitch a little, and you can tell that he seems almost nervous to talk to you.
“When are you ever gonna ask me for the things you want?” you ask playfully, trying to ease his anxiety. It never happened, remember?
He turns his body completely, crossing his arms over his chest as he smirks at you, “Well, the last time I texted you, you left me on read. So I figure I will just get my own things, now.”
Fuck, okay that plan backfired.
You bite your lips together and look down to the ground, unsure of what to even say to that. He drops his hands to his sides as he looks at you, and you feel your body temperature start to rise under his gaze. The wind blows his hair across his face, in turn sending the smell of his cologne barrelling past you. You feel bad for him, of course…if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t even be speaking to him right now, let alone be acting even the littlest bit flirty. You shiver a little, from the cold or the smell of his cologne, you aren’t sure.
“I need to get this inside,” you stammer, at a complete loss on how to respond to that.
He nods his head and grabs the door handle, pulling it open and gesturing for you to go, but thankfully, he doesn’t follow you.
Fuck. Okay. Okay. It’s fine. It’s totally fine.
You rush back into the green room, finding Sam and Danny playing around with a mini golf toy.
“Here you go Sam! Sorry! Had to go to two places to find the kind you like,” you smile, ripping the box open.
“My hero!” he shouts, rushing over to you and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.
You smile as he sets you down, tossing a can to Daniel, and then cracking the lid on his own. The two of them saunter back through the greenroom doors, leaving you alone to throw the rest of them into the cooler.
You pull your phone from your bag, bringing up your text thread with Jake and staring at his last message. Maybe Ruth was right, you should respond. Now especially after that, after knowing he was still beating himself up over it. You type, delete and retype your message several times before finally landing on what felt right, and even more, you really mean it.
You
4:33PM: You have nothing to apologize for, Jake.
JAKE POV
As you continue to stand outside the venue and let the wind cut you in two, you wonder if your plan to play it smooth actually worked. She didn’t fully ignore you, she didn’t cuss you out, she didn’t laugh in your face… but she did speak. Only a few words, but you’ll take what you can get. It was hard to even say those few words to her, the instant courage you had to muster to speak to her after seeing her so unexpectedly almost threw you for a loop, but somehow, your words came out smoothly, concisely, and without sounding like you were a complete buffoon.
You relax a little as you know she is inside doing her duties, and you busy yourself pacing around the back exit to keep warm. The pre-show nerves start coming about this time of day, and sometimes it feels good to step out into the blistering cold for that extra shot of adrenaline to get your blood pumping. You jump up and down, shoving your hands in your pockets as you wait just a few more minutes… wanting to avoid having to make any more awkward conversation with her than you already had.
As your hand hits your pocket, though, you feel your phone buzz. You pull it out, seeing a notification that she has finally texted you back.
Y/N
4:33PM: You have nothing to apologize for, Jake.
You read the text no less than fifteen times, smiling from ear to ear before anxiety sets in, making you think that maybe she is just being nice. But you do have something to apologize for. You were the reason for a completely failed night, a shitty end to the perfect “date”, left her pissed and unsatisfied, the absolute worst. All you’ve been able to think about all day long is how you are going to explain everything, and make it up to her. You know you can’t until after the show, but just the little bit of contact from her makes you feel like you could move mountains. Progress is progress.
You’re pacing the hallways going back and forth between backstage and the green room, keeping yourself busy before you head to jam a little with the guys.
“Hey, man. You good?” Sam asks as you’re brushing past him in a doorway. His tone is more inquisitive than normal, and the volume of his voice is the one he uses when he’s unsure, or in this case, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m good. I mean… I wasn’t, really, but I am now,” you answer, pushing your sunglasses back up on your head. You watch his eyebrows furrow at your answer, wondering if you caught onto his loaded question.
“I heard about your amp, what happened?” he asks.
“I’m not sure, something with the wiring. Had a gash in the cabinet but the harness was all damaged to shit. They’re getting a rental, though… should be here soon,” you glance at your watch to double check the time, praying that you will have enough time to check it before tonight.
“Mmm, maybe not…” Sam stops in his tracks, and turns the opposite way to go back out to the stage. “Let me take a look at it.”
You’re surprised by him, but follow his quick steps anyway. You’re close behind him as you navigate the narrow halls, passing crew and staff left and right. And of course, one of them just happens to be Y/N. Her eyes widen as she sees the two of you.
“HEY!” Sam yells at her, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Daniel told me to tell you thank you for the soda water and that he appreciates it,” Sam cheeses a giant smile at her as she cups her hand over his, still squeezing her shoulder.
“No problem at all, Sam,” she giggles. “Man, you guys are really nice, no one has ever thanked me for getting them things this much,” she narrows her eyes at you, pursing her lips into the smallest smile. Mental note, thank her extra for whatever she decides to bring you to drink tonight…
“Well I mean we’re all assholes but we at least have manners,” he replies, starting to head toward the stage again. You part ways, but just her eyes meeting yours again was enough to make your heart flutter.
Sam skips every other step as he climbs the metal stairs to the stage, making his way over to your damaged amp that has been set to the side. “Alright, let’s see…” he squats down and pulls the back off, and starts to fidget with the wiring inside. “Oh, shit, yeah. I see now…” He pulls up the flashlight on his phone as you watch him think. Suddenly he stands and runs over to your cabinet, grabbing two handfuls of tools before making his way back and dropping them by your side. He then hops over to his own setup and pulls the back off of one of his own amps, pulling a few things from it, too. What the fuck is he doing?
He returns a minute later with some of the guts of his own amp, and pieces of it that you are sure you’ve never even seen before. He kneels back down and grabs a screwdriver, going back to work.
“So, you say you’re good now, but you weren’t, right?” he asks. “You’ve been acting kinda backward lately.”
“No I haven’t,” you kick back.
His eyes quickly scan to yours as his hands work at a quick pace. “Yeah, you have. I’m not stupid.”
You sigh, knowing that he isn’t gonna give it up. “I’ve just… got some other shit going on right now, I’ll–I’ll explain it all later once I get it dealt with,” you lie. The half-assed explanation will have to do for now, there is no way you are going into detail about all the good and bad happening in your life, especially since Lyla may be giving Sam a completely different story than the one you would give him.
You watch as he effortlessly completely replaces the wire housing, splicing the old wire at the perfect spot before tightening it back into place again. “There, that should do it…”
“Does your amp not need that stuff?” you ask, leaning your hands on your knees as you watch him.
“Eh, yeah, but I think this will be okay,” he says. “Alright, fire it up!” he yells at the techs, and you take that as your cue to grab your guitar to test it out. You plug the wire in and wait for Sam to get the thumbs-up from the booth. You play a single chord, hearing it ring across the arena with near-perfection.
“Holy shit Sam, how did you do that?!” your jaw is hanging slack as you make your way back over to him. “The techs couldn’t even figure it out…”
He wipes his hands against each other and stands with his hands on his hips like a proud father. “Eh, been watching Mark for a long time, now. Youtube deep-dives, ya know. Picked up on a few things.”
“Shit, I’m impressed,” you laugh. And you really, really were.
“Yeah, ya know, sometimes finding the root of the problem is the first step in making things work out how you want them to, know what I mean?” He bumps your side with his elbow. Yep. His first question was definitely loaded.
You nod slowly. “Yeah… thanks…”
“No problem.” He walks a little closer to you, barely twisting a peg on the headstock of your guitar. “There, now you’re tuned, too.”
You glance at the stock, seeing that he was right, the little fucker. You watch as he skips down the stairs again, throwing one finger in the air above him, screaming, “Cancel the rental!”
—
You and Sam decide to wander around the empty venue for a while, checking out the view from the top row of seats, enjoying a shared blunt as time ticks by. You don’t get to spend much time with just Sam, but every now and then you find a moment like this. You’re close with Sam, in a different way than you are with Josh. He understands things differently than Josh, and for a moment as the smoke swirls through your veins you consider asking him for advice about Isla.
You know it's a dangerous game, but without the influence of Lyla you think he would answer truthfully. Passing the blunt back to him you start to speak, but are quickly interrupted by your phone buzzing in your pocket. You pull it out, seeing a name on the screen that you’d been waiting for for a few days.
“Hey, let me take this, I’ll meet you back in the green room?” you ask, hoping he will catch the drift.
His face twists up in confusion, “Huh? You never answer your phone.”
“It’s Chris. I’ve been waiting on this call. Let me grab it,” you say, flashing the screen towards him.
“Oh, oh. About your new band with your new friends that aren’t me and Josh and Daniel. That's fine, yeah yeah take the call,” he says playfully.
“Old friends Sam, and don’t be like that…” you chide.
“No, it’s totally fine, cheater, answer before he hangs up,” he smiles, elbowing you as he stands up. You tap the green icon as he starts to walk away, clearing your throat and stifling back a smile.
“Chris…” you answer.
“Jake…” he answers, a happy lilt in his tone.
“I’m guessing this means we’re doing it?”
You hear him laugh on the other end of the phone, “Oh yeah, we’re doing it.”
—
“Jake, you good?” Danny asks, standing up from his practice kit.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m feelin’ really good actually,” you answer truthfully. You stand, placing your guitar into the stand and shaking out your hands as Josh steps up towards you.
“Drink?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Followin’ you…”
You do follow him back to the greenroom, needing a drink to get your blood moving and to shake those pre show jitters. As you step over the threshold you spot Y/N sitting on a couch talking to Lyla, Ty, and Mia. You wonder for a second if she has mentioned anything about what happened last night, but from the happy look on their faces you know it’s likely they know nothing about the two of you or what transpired last night.
You walk over to the drink table, Josh already getting started on making a drink for the two of you. You laugh at his heavy handed pour, but accept it graciously. You can hear the rumble of the crowd, the opener finishing up their set this very minute. Your eyes flick over to Y/N, catching her looking at you for just a second before looking away. The feeling of her eyes on you has your chest warming up, no alcohol needed.
In all reality you were ready for this show to be over. You knew that as soon as you got the chance you were going to whisk her away to talk about last night, explain things, and hope she understood. You just had to get through this show.
You grab the drink from Josh and make your way over to the empty couch across the room, sitting at the very end and crossing your leg over your knee. You know you’ve got about thirty minutes until you need to walk, and you still need to change, but a quick drink would do you some good so you enjoy the few moments listening to Josh ramble.
Just as you start to relax you notice Y/N standing from her place on the couch and walking over towards the corner of the room. You try not to stare, knowing Mia and Lyla’s eyes are on you but you have an idea of what she may be doing, so you sit back and watch to find out.
You hear her walkie talkie chattering from across the room, the time until stage is growing smaller and smaller. As she stands back up she turns around and looks at you, letting her eyes linger on you for just a few seconds before she walks out of the room with your bottle of wine in hand. You stifle back the smile on your lips as you think about her going through your bag again. It’s strange, you’d never allowed any of the other runners to do that, but she was different. You found yourself excited at the idea of her touching your things, finding your wine and readying your drink for the stage.
You turn back to Josh who has his eyes locked on you with a knowing grin. He clears his throat and makes sure that no one is listening before he speaks, “Are you two good, then?”
You nod your head inconspicuously, sipping at the drink in your hand. “Seems that way.”
He pats his hand on your thigh harshly, “Good, go get changed. We’ve got a show to play.”
Just then, Paul ducks his head through the door looking frazzled as usual, “Boys, twenty minutes.”
Josh tilts his head to you, and you stand up heading for the dressing rooms. You quickly change into your suit and slip into your boots, ready to swipe on some eyeliner before you hit the stage. You hear your phone buzz on the countertop, and it zaps all of your attention. You are practically stumbling over your own feet to get to it, hoping to see something from Y/N, and much to your delight, it is.
‘Y/N Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’
Oh fuck, a song.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, you want to open it immediately but you know you have to get this eyeliner on first. You grab the pencil and pull your lid down, swiping on the dark black liner, smudging it out with your finger the best you can before repeating it on the other side. All you can think about is what song she added. Will it be happy? Will it be sad? Is she telling you she doesn’t want to do this anymore? That you fucked up?
You cap the liner and toss it into your bag, running your fingers through your hair and adjusting your suit jacket in the mirror. You look good, you look really good, and you know that a spray of cologne probably wouldn’t hurt. You snatch your phone off the counter and make your way back into the greenroom, finding everyone else dressed and ready to walk.
You make your way to your backpack, crouching down in front of it searching for the small glass bottle of cologne you know is floating around at the bottom. You pull it from the bag and give yourself a generous spray. It calms you, in a way, breathing in the familiar scent. It centers you and reminds you of home.
Unable to wait a single second longer, you tap the notification on your screen bringing up the shared playlist, scrolling to the very bottom. Your heart leaps in your chest when you see her addition, and you know that you are about to play a good show because of it.
You tap the song, letting the sweet and sentimental notes of ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ by Frankie Valli ring through the air. You turn the volume up probably a little louder than it should be, but you don’t care. It’s not long before Josh notices, peering over at you from the rim of his paper cup.
“Jake, is that Frankie Valli? Holy shit, wait, do you like good music now?” he teases, throwing you a wink.
The chorus echoes through the room, Sam and Lyla obviously enjoying the song as he dances her around the room. He pops a few grapes into his mouth as they spin and you can’t help but to notice that this song alone has brightened everyone's spirits in a matter of seconds. She definitely had that effect on you, but now her magic was being cast on others. You almost wanted to thank her, and you would, tonight. With extra thanks…
You quickly pull up your texts with her, deciding to let her know you saw it without saying too much.
You
8:31PM: 😎
You know it’s risky but you don’t care. You also know the chances of her replying to that are slim, because in all honesty what do you even say to that? But she continues to surprise you, your phone buzzing in your hand before you can even put it back in your bag.
Y/N
8:32PM: 🎸
You can’t seem to shake the smile from your face and you’re glad you are still crouched down in front of your bag, because you know everyone would have a million questions the second they saw your shit-eating grin.
“Let’s go guys, time to walk!” Paul shouts, pulling your attention away from the little guitar emoji. You toss your phone in your bag and straighten out your suit, trying to get your mind back into the zone to play this show. Get through this, then you can talk to her.
Your heart is beating fast though, knowing that at the end of this hallway she is waiting for you. You know you have to play it cool, you don’t want to seem too eager. You clear your throat and fall to the back of the group, saving yourself for last.
You’re fine Jake. Just act natural, be cool.
—
HER POV
The tequila cocktail… the Topo… the spiked hot tea… and…
The shadowed figure is bringing up the rear like the tail end of a parade of sequins and sparkling material, dressed in black satin and glittering in the dim lights, hair flowing back from his shoulders as his right hand falls to his stomach as he walks. His face is contoured by the flashing lights of the stage, showcasing the smudged black eyeliner carefully but heavily painted over the eyes that were boring into you, now.
You feel your hand begin to shake on its own accord, trying not to spill the chalice of white wine that it was, in all honesty, about to drop to the floor below you. You swallow harshly as he makes his way toward you at almost slow-motion speed, his eyes dark and hollow as his presence approaches. Your hand shakily extends the cup, glancing up to him again as he bites his cheeks in, suppressing a smile that reads more like a judgment on behalf of your probably flustered state. Why are you reacting this way? This man literally gave you one of the most awkward exchanges of your night last night…
His fingertips are nearly on fire as they barely graze yours, taking the cup with a quickness.
“Good luck,” you mutter, probably barely audible over the opening orchestral.
He flips his hair out from underneath the strap of his guitar with his free hand, side-eyeing you as he walks toward the stairs to the stage. “Mmm, don’t need it, babe.” As if the pure adrenaline wasn’t already enough to knock you over, his bold act of cocky audacity steals all the breath directly from your lungs, leaving you standing with your mouth agape and your hands dropped at your sides. God damn, why is he like this?
“I don’t know… I’ve seen you with stage fright before…” you retort, suddenly feeling bold enough to joke about what happened the night prior.
“Ohhhh, is that how it’s gonna be?!” he laughs, bumping into your shoulder. “Hope you know that’s not normally how those kinds of nights go for me…” he yells back over the deafening music, avoiding eye contact with you as he takes the first sip from his wine.
You cross your arms over your chest. “Oh, it’s not, is it?”
He shakes his head a little as he begins to ascend the metal stairs. “No. Most definitely not.” Your heart is pounding out of your ribcage as his words ring through your brain, replaying the utter humiliation of last night, followed by his overwhelming acts of confidence in the past minute. “Thank you, though, seriously. For taking care of us.” He leans over the handrail of the steps, leaning down to speak closely in your ear. “But for taking care of me, especially. I plan on returning the favor, don’t worry…”
He stands back up and glides onto the stage, holding his wine up into the air as if to salute your efforts. Your mouth goes dry as you find yourself in a puddle of excited emotions. You can feel your mouth hanging open still from his words, your lips unable to close simply from hearing him say he wants to try again. It's all a conundrum, and now you’re full-on staring at him as he crosses the stage to stand with his brothers, fluffing his hair a little as he pulls a pick from the inside of his jacket, biting it between his front teeth. He turns back to you and winks, placing his own hand under his jaw, signaling for you to pick yours up off of the floor.
—--
Minutes later you’re still standing at the base of the stairs, watching as they begin their night of revelry. Jake’s amp sounds perfect again, and you can tell that his worry of finding a replacement and anxiety of it not making it on time was all for nothing. He treats the stage like it’s his second life, a place where he can release his true inner self, or, maybe, an alternate version of the man that he is. You’re not sure yet, but you have a deep feeling that you will be experiencing it, soon. The thought of that makes your insides feel like they’re blazing with hormones, watching his performance pick up and slow down with each passing second. Yeah, you know for a fact last night was a fluke. Had to be. There’s no way he can’t really actually…nevermind.
You pull your phone from your pocket, hoping that you have enough service to facetime Ruth. You don’t even bother doing the math to see if you’ll be waking her up or not, but you also know that she absolutely won’t care, if this is what she gets to wake up to. You press the green button, watching as it connects with only a little bit of blurriness from the reception.
You plaster a smile on your face as you watch her answer, realizing exactly where you are, and what you’re in the middle of doing. You can’t hear each other, but you turn the screen around, giving her a full view of the show happening from side stage. You watch her face light up, and an ‘OH MY GOD’ form on her lips. You take the time to zoom in on each member, of course, saving Jake for last. He’s the closest to you, so you don’t have to use much zoom at all for her to really see him. ‘That’s him! That’s him, isn’t it?!’ you watch her mouth. Her hand snaps up to cover the lower half of her face as you watch her squirm with excitement. ‘Last night wasn’t real, you gotta let him try again!!!’ you read her lips, and you turn the screen back to yourself.
You roll your eyes, mouthing back an enunciated, ‘I know!’
You let her watch for a few more minutes before the crappy reception disconnects you altogether, and she shoots you a quick text filled with nothing but a long string of random letters, letting you know she was fully freaking out.
Right before the end of the show, you rush back to the green room to clean up the mess of whatever is left behind, replenishing and rearranging everything that needs it. You know the crew will be coming in to collect snacks and waters before their job begins tonight, and you’ve learned to put out almost every single food item that you can, knowing that none of it will go to waste.
As you hear the encore coming to a close, you grab the four black towels waiting for you in your bag, rushing back out to side stage to hand them off to the guys. You find Paul waiting too, ready to give them encouraging back-pats of congratulations. Just like they entered, they exit the same, Jake bringing up the back as if he planned it. You’d been kind enough to hand Sam, Josh, and Danny theirs with sweet words of compliments and praise, but switched it up at the very end, tossing Jake’s towel into the air above him, forcing him to reach high and catch it in mid-air.
The sweat is pouring from his every pore, pooling on his upper lip and center of his stomach. Your mind goes to a dark place for a second, wishing you knew exactly what it would taste like if you were the one to lick it from his lips. He quickly pulls the towel across his face and stomach, finishing off by wiping the back of his neck with it. He then tosses it back in your face, and you catch the smallest breath of his scent filling your nostrils. “You can keep that, all yours,” he jokes as you pull it off your face, responding to him with a look of annoyance.
“You asshole,” you laugh, tucking the towel under your arm as you follow them all backstage. He turns around, yanking the towel back out from your grasp. You watch as he takes two ends and twists them up, wrapping the damp towel in a tight coil. Oh god, he’s not gonna…
You stop, lifting your leg and outstretching your arms in defense of your body. You just know he is about to snap it at you. “Jake, no, please don’t!” you squeal, backing away.
“Don’t worry, ‘m not gonna get you, unless you’re into that kinda thing…”
Son of a bitch, he said that fairly loudly, as you’re surrounded by his brothers, their girlfriends, the crew, your co-workers… fuck.
Your eyes widen as big as they will go as he laughs, continuing to make his way down the hall. You pick up steps again, following him in a flustered mess of confusion. “I’m gonna get Daniel, watch…”
You burst into the greenroom right behind him, the towel still tightly wound and held in his right hand. He makes his way straight for Danny, twirling the towel in the air as he approaches him.
“No, Jake! No!” Danny yells, running away and launching himself onto the couch, but not before you hear a perfectly loud snap of the towel connecting with Danny’s thigh. Danny yelps out in stinging pain as everyone else laughs, Jake taking his time to roll the towel up into his makeshift whip again. “What the fuck?!” Danny yells, trying his best to hide behind Mia. Everyone is running away from him at this point, worried they will be the next victim.
Jake makes contact with Danny’s leg again as he squeals. “That’s for not cueing me into Farewell like we practiced, you asshole!” Jake yells at Danny with a giant smile across his face.
“Leave me alone!” Danny laughs, laying all his weight onto Mia. “I forgot, okay? Fuck!” You can’t help but join in the laughter of everyone filling up the green room, watching their playful display. You feel a sudden strong warmth fill your chest, realizing you get to be a part of this, seeing it all firsthand.
Jake stops, folding the towel back into a nice neat square as he makes his way back to where you stand, handing the towel to you with both hands. “Anyway, told you you could keep this,” he reiterates as you take it from his hands, giving him another glare of petty aggravation.
“Wonderful show guys, as always!” Paul claps his hands together. “This venue has an early curfew, so get your showers and shit together, no lollygagging around, alright?” he barks, popping a pretzel into his mouth before dashing back out the door.
Sam’s the first one out the door to the showers, pulling Lyla behind him. “You guys make the afterparty plans, we’ll do whatever, we don’t care…” he yells over his shoulder as the door slams behind Lyla.
“It’s balls cold out, I know Ty’s not gonna want to go walking around in this shit. And to be honest, I don’t really want to either,” Josh says, taking a seat on the couch beside Ty. “Am I right?” he asks him.
“Yeah, fuck this cold,” Ty responds.
You try not to listen in on their conversations as you know they don’t apply to you, but you most definitely are curious to see if Jake decides to partake in their plans. You busy yourself with a giant box of various crackers to fill the time.
“Let’s just go to the hotel bar. I noticed it’s kinda secluded, not very big,” Josh suggests, earning a nod of agreement from Danny and Jake.
“Sounds good to me, make sure Dean knows,” Jake says as he pulls his drenched jacket off, hanging it on a wire hanger. Shit shit shit don’t look don’t look.
“Sounds like a plan. Hey, Y/N, you gonna join us?” Josh’s voice saying your name pulls you from your daydream of thinking about watching Jake take his jacket off again and again, causing you to perk up.
“What? Sorry…”
He laughs. “When you’re done here tonight, meet us at the hotel bar, yeah?” You watch Jake’s head snap your way out of your peripheral.
“Yeah, Y/N, join us…” Mia adds, the smallest bit of songlike quality to her voice again, just like earlier.
You push the flyaway hairs away from your face, blowing a puff of air on them as you tuck the cardboard box of crackers back into the plastic tote. “Uh, yeah, sure. If I can get everything cleaned up in time, I’ll be there…” you answer on the fly, feeling as though you can’t turn the offer down.
Jake stays silent as he picks up his backpack and heads out the door toward the showers, flashing his devious eyes at you before the door shuts behind him.
—
JAKE POV
You only had to dodge the curious eyes of a few fans as you slipped around the corners of the hotel to the bar, being the last one to arrive, like always. Josh is seated at the bar with his back to you while Danny and Sam are standing at a table off to the side with Mia and Lyla. Thankfully, the bar is empty for the most part, only a couple unsuspecting older folks closing out their tabs. You pull out the heavy mahogany chair to the right of Josh, taking a seat as the bartender approaches you.
“Hi, uh. Soda water with lime, please?” you ask, and he nods and flits away. “Where’s Ty?” you ask.
“On his way down in a few minutes. He um, he’s actually walking Y/N down…” he responds, flicking his eyes behind the two of you.
“Oh,” you respond, surprised. “Is that right?” You fold your arms across the bar top as the bartender sets your drink in front of you.
“Yeah, he actually stuck behind a little to help her clean up the green room and get everything put away,” Josh explains further.
You smile as you place your hand on his back. “You’ve got yourself a gentleman, brother. Must say.” Josh grins at your sentiment, pulling his straw between his lips.
“Most kind hearted person I know,” he says. “Speaking of, seems like you and her are on a little better terms now, since we spoke last,” Josh looks behind you again, making sure you are out of earshot from the other guys.
You huff through a breath, not sure whether or not you want to go into much detail of reliving one of the most humiliating nights of your life, thus far. But, maybe talking about it will put it in the past where it belongs. “Yeah, you could say that, I suppose. Had to fuckin’ work for it though…” you laugh through your nose.
“What does that mean?” he asks.
You swallow down a rather large drink of your soda water, running your tongue over your teeth as you contemplate an answer. “Let’s just say we… had a less than eventful night last night, and I… wasn’t able to…” you take a fast breath. “Too many beers, too many phone calls from my tech, too much bullshit from Isla, I just…” you clench your jaw, trying to say it all without really saying it.
But Josh nearly chokes on his drink. “Ex-fucking-scuse me? Wait, no no no…” he waves his hand in your face as he turns in his seat, running his fingers over his beard. “You seriously couldn’t…”
“That’s right Josh.” You stare straight ahead of you at the mirror behind the top shelf of liquors, finding your defeated reflection staring back at you. You glance at him in the mirror, watching him cover his face with both hands as he silent-laughed.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he cries after a few seconds of laughing at your expense. “It’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not funny. It’s humiliating, and a little sad, actually,” you say flatly. “Go ahead, laugh away, get it out of your system.”
He slaps his palms across the bar top a few times as he catches his breath, trying not to laugh so loud that he causes a scene. “Fuck. Has that ever happened to you? What was…?”
“No, god dammit. It’s never happened. I was sloshed, my phone was ringing incessantly, between Isla’s name popping up on my phone and knowing the crew needed me, I just… she was perfect, man. Beautiful, confident, everything was there, except…”
“...Except… you,” he finishes your sentence.
“Yeah,” you respond with a breath. “It worked out for a few minutes, surprisingly, and fuck if it wasn’t…” you held up the A-OK sign with your fingers, popping a ‘p’ sound. “But then everything went to shit.”
“And that’s why you’re having soda water tonight?”
“Eh, yeah. Just feel like if we’re gonna have a chance to have a conversation about it all, I want to be completely present,” you admit. Suddenly you feel the presence of Danny standing behind the two of you, ordering another round for Sam and the girls. You turn your attention to him. “Speaking of… hey asshole, why the fuck are you still buying Durex condoms? You’re a grown man with money, for god’s sake, use the good shit,” you ask Danny quietly. “You’re not 15 anymore.”
For your sake, so far Danny has done a good job of keeping your secret for you after you went running to his room last night in search of protection, just in case.
“Jake, what the fuck are you talking about?” Danny asks with wide eyes, looking between you and Josh.
“Don’t worry Daniel, I’m already informed. The youngest of us is not, though, so keep your fuckin’ mouth shut to him, you hear?” Josh defends you.
“Jesus Christ, Jake. Listen, I don’t want to know what the fuck is going on with you and whoever, I’m not asking any questions,” Danny says as the bartender hands him their beers. He leans in closer, whispering between you and Josh. “But I haven’t used a fucking condom in almost a year. You had me digging in my reserve stash… it’s all I had, ok? Sorry if an XL wasn’t the size you needed…” Danny backs away, laughing with his tongue out.
“OH fuck you!” you howl back. “It was a piece of shit, just do yourself a favor and get the good kind, ok?” you whip your head back around as Danny rejoins the others.
“Anyway…” you say as you finish off your soda water. “It was a night I want to forget, honestly. But I’m gonna redeem myself. I have to. I can’t leave it like that…”
“Maybe you should turn your phone off the next time you get an opportunity, just in case…” Josh suggests, and you nod in return.
Just then you see a pair of arms wrapping around Josh’s neck, and you turn to see Ty and Y/N walking up behind you.
“Hey, guys!” Josh says. “Please join us…” he pulls out the seat next to him for Ty and stands to give Y/N his own seat, before she puts a hand on his arm to stop him.
“Thanks, Josh, but Paul, Wes and Corri are coming down, too. Dean’s coming, I’m gonna sit with them for a little while. Thank you for walking me down, Ty,” she flashes the three of you a warm smile, and you want to speak to her, but it's almost as if all the air has escaped from your lungs. She looks absolutely stunning, a little fixed up, but not too much. You can tell she looks as tired as you all do from the show, but you’d hardly know it. She has on a tight low-cut t-shirt dress with an oversized denim jacket over top, her hair a mess after being up all day. Her makeup had been re-done, and you’d be lying if you said the way her legs looked in that dress didn’t have you imagining things that were still a blurry memory from last night.
“I’ll be back later…” she says, making eye contact with you. Again, you’re at a loss for words, so you give her a sweet nod.
“I really like her,” Ty speaks up, filling the silence that has fallen over the three of you as soon as she’s gone. “You should dump Isla and go out with her, Jake.” The straw you had been chewing falls from your mouth and straight onto the floor.
“What? What did you say?” you ask him.
He shrugs one shoulder as he takes the seat next to Josh. “She’s cute. No bullshit, smart, and can obviously handle all the shit you guys have been throwing at her since she got here…”
You look to Josh, who seems just as surprised as you are.
“I dunno. I mean I like Isla, don’t get me wrong, but. There’s just something off about her, and I don’t know what it is,” he continues, and you feel Josh’s widening eyes find you, telling you he has no idea where this is coming from, either. Ty reaches his hand across Josh to sit on top of yours. He looks you directly in the eye before speaking again, “Jake, I have an excellent read on people. And I’ve never steered you wrong, have I?” he asks.
You slowly shake your head back and forth.
“That’s right. No. And I’m here to tell you, that girl likes you. A lot. She didn’t even have to say anything to me, and I can tell. She froze up when I mentioned your name earlier. And from all the time you spent on our couch the past couple of months, I know there’s something going on. Just know I’m here to talk about it if you feel like my partner here isn’t hearing you out, okay?”
You swallow hard as you take in Ty's words. He’s right, he's always been an excellent confidant for you, even letting you come to him a couple of times in the past for advice on different subjects. You love Ty just like you love your twin, and you never once have doubted his judge of character.
Josh nods slowly, agreeing with every harsh word Ty has just delivered to you. Ty pats your hand as he releases it.
“Take my advice, Jacob. I know Isla isn’t making you happy, and that girl…she just left your talkative ass completely unable to speak.” He smiles hard, turning his attention to the bartender, ordering a round of shots for everyone. You finally have a free second with Josh again.
“Guy knows what he’s talking about…” Josh suggests. “Maybe you should listen to him.”
You bite at your cheek as you nod your head. You know he’s right, of course he’s right. But you also know it’s just a little bit more complicated than that. The bartender slides you a fresh soda water, and as you pinch the lime between your fingers you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You drop the lime into the bubble water and take a quick drink as you pull your phone from your coat pocket.
Y/N
11:46PM: Not drinking tonight?
You look over your shoulder knowing she is watching you, and you catch sight of her sitting at a cocktail table a couple of feet away with Wes and Corrine. Her eyes are locked on yours, a skinny straw between her teeth. You send her a playful smirk as you turn back to your phone, replying to her message.
You
11:47PM: Not tonight, I have other plans…
You look at her as you pocket your phone, watching her face twist into a mischievous smile as she turns to look at you. You shrug your shoulders and grin before turning back to continue listening to Josh and Ty. You can feel her eyes on you and you have to admit it feels good. You feel like things might actually be okay between the two of you if you can continue to play your cards right.
“So do you wanna hit up that one place with the crazy wine list when we get to France? It was in Paris Metro, right?” Josh asks, tapping your arm with his hand.
You know the exact place he is talking about, but right now your mind is somewhere else completely. “Oh, yeah yeah, it is. It was close to that tiny ass venue, remind me and I’ll look it up tomorrow on the flight.”
“Anywhere else you want to go? I think we have a day or two off while we’re there,” he asks, still trying to grab your full attention.
“Um, maybe I’ll stop in to that rarity shop, see if they have anything interesting this time around,” you answer, doing your best to focus.
“Oh shit, yeah, that’s where you got that crazy old guitar, right? From like the early 1900’s or whatever?”
“Yeah, exactly. Had to completely unstring the fucker to get it home without it snapping in two,” you laugh, remembering the hassle.
“Any…other plans while in the city of love?” he croons, bumping shoulders with Ty.
You look over your shoulder to check your surroundings before answering. You place your hand roughly on his shoulder and shake him a bit, “I guess that will depend on tonight, now won’t it?”
The two of you laugh as you notice commotion at the end of the bar. You turn yourself to look, only to find Lyla walking towards you with her phone to her ear.
“Jake?” she says, stepping up to you in a huff. She pulls the phone away from her ear and holds it out to you. “It’s Isla, she said you aren’t answering your phone, and I know I just saw you on it?”
Fucking hell Isla.
You know you have to take the call, because if you do it now, there’s no chance of it happening later. You snatch the phone from her hand, holding it to your ear and exhaling an aggravated breath. “Hey, what’s up?”
“What’s up? I don’t know, Jake. You tell me what’s up! You aren’t answering any of my texts, you turned off your location days ago, you said you’d call me and you haven’t! Tell me what is going on!” she shouts into the phone.
“Nothing is going on, Isla! I am at work, working, on tour. You know the thing that pays the bills? Also, I’m in a different country, a different time zone. But you know what, I know you aren’t stupid. You know all of this, so what’s up? What is so important that you had to call someone else to get ahold of me?”
You see Josh push past Lyla, grabbing you by the shoulders, “Hey I need you to do me a favor,” he says, pushing you backwards. You pull the phone away from your ear to hear him. He stares into your eyes, silently telling you to go with it.
“Oh, I have to go Isla, sorry. Here’s Lyla,” you say, pushing the phone back into Lyla’s hands.
Lyla is staring you down as Josh finally stops, letting go of your shoulders. “I uh, I need you to go run an errand for me. Well, I need Y/N to go run an errand for me, but I need Dean to stay here to field those girls in the lobby, so I was wondering if you could accompany her?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“What?” you ask, admittedly very confused.
“Yeah, just walk with me,” he says, walking you over towards the tables. “I need you to go run this errand—” he pauses, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was close enough to hear him. “Okay, yeah there is no errand.”
You send him yet another completely bewildered look.
“There’s no errand, just…I don’t know, get out of here before someone asks questions. Go. Take her with you. She already knows and she thinks there is an errand,” he smiles smugly, “You can thank me later.”
For a moment you hesitate, unsure if you should go with his harebrained idea, but you decide to do it, knowing that he really only has your best interest at heart. He pretends to show you something on his phone, and you nod like you understand. You exhale a breath and nod towards him, “Yep, I’ll take care of that for you.”
“Yeah, perfect. Make sure you do a good job,” he quips, the meaning definitely not lost on you.
You toss your hand towards him as you walk away, locking eyes with Y/N who is waiting near the door. You swallow down your nerves and make your way towards her, ready to make amends.
“You uh, ready to go?” you ask, playing along with the charade. You pull the door open and allow her to step out first into the dimly lit hallway of the hotel lobby.
“Yeah, I just… Did he tell you what he needed or anything?” she asks, a confused look on her face. You laugh to yourself and purse your lips before answering.
“Well, he doesn’t need anything. He kinda… bent the truth a bit to give us a chance to leave alone,” you answer honestly.
A hum leaves her lips, as she stops in place turning to face you, “And how do you know that I want to leave with you?”
There's a playful grin on her face, but there's also a tinge of truth to her tone. You can’t read her, but you give it your best shot.
“Well, I have a pretty good feeling about it, but please enlighten me if I am mistaken,” you answer.
She rocks back onto the heels of her shoes, turning to continue walking, “I see, are these those ‘other plans’ you were talking about?”
You bite your lips together and turn to look at her, “That remains to be seen, I suppose.”
The two of you start to approach the elevator bank, and you know you need to make your move. She hasn’t said much, or really given you any indication of whether she is into this playful little game or not, so you decide to cut your losses and leave the ball in her court.
“I’m gonna go up to my room for the night. You can come up and join me for a night cap, or you can head back to your own room. Completely your choice, but if you decide to join me, I’m in room 507,” you finish, stopping just shy of the elevators. You give her a smile and nod your head before continuing to walk to the waiting elevator.
Your heart is racing as you step inside, wondering if she is going to follow you, or better yet take you up on your offer. You press the button for floor five and watch as the doors close, a rush of nerves spreading through your body. You shake out your hands and pull your phone from your pocket seeing a myriad of missed calls and texts from Isla. You muted her notifications after everything last night, and you know that’s what prompted her call to Lyla.
You tap your keycard to the door and step inside, the cool air of the AC hitting you like a brick wall. You step over and turn on the heat, needing the room to be at least a few degrees warmer. You take all of your things out of your pockets and deposit them on the nightstand, deciding to take Josh’s advice and power off your phone completely. You toss your jacket onto the small couch, removing the hair tie from your finger and tying your hair up into a knot. You reach for a bottle of water from the mini bar, downing what had to be half of it as you start to pace the room.
You wonder if maybe she’s texted, or added a song, anything to give you some kind of indication of her answer, but you know that your phone is off and that you’re just going to have to wait this out the old fashioned way. You kick off your boots and push them to the side of your suitcase, digging around inside of it to change clothes, but deciding to wait just a little bit longer, just in case. You unbutton your shirt though, letting it hang open on your body as you step away from your suitcase.
You sit on the edge of the bed, looking at the flashing clock on the nightstand and watching as the numbers flash as they change. Fuck, maybe she really isn’t coming.
You lay back, completely spread across the fluffy white sheets letting out a sigh of exhaustion. The past two days have drained you. Mentally, physically… You felt like you could sleep for three days straight given the opportunity. You let your eyes flutter closed for just a second, and that's when you heard it. The tiniest knock on the door. Any softer and you wouldn’t have heard it, chalking it up to your brain playing tricks on you.
You sat up instantly, listening for it again, and sure enough another set of small knocks echoed through the room.
Holy shit, she came.
You shoot up from the bed, smoothing out your hair and shaking out your arms. You were nervous, you’d admit that, but you were also bound and determined to make tonight better than the last. You’d thought of nothing else, since.
—
HER POV
The sound of a little bit of rustling inside the door causes your heart to pick up speed, the sudden clarity of what you’re doing hitting you across the face. Sure, last night you’d been in a similar circumstance, but tonight…things feel different. Your second set of knocks on his door has finally jostled him.
You hear the door knob turn and Jake opens it, hiding a little bit behind it as he invites you inside.
“Hey,” he says, his voice raspy. “Didn’t think you were gonna come up.”
You walk inside the room, smelling the remnants of the cologne he spritzed on before he came down to the bar still lingering in the air. “I almost didn’t, but, I think…we need to talk about a few things…” you reply, awkwardly holding your hands together at your stomach as he closes the door behind you. You feel your breath hitch in your throat as you finally catch sight of him, his black button-down undone all the way, and his hair tied back in a low knot at his neck. Jesus Christ, he’s a sight, even when he isn’t even trying.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he agrees, patting the half-made bed for you to sit on. “You want a drink?” he asks, motioning to the mini fridge.
“Ah, no, I’m okay, thank you,” you reply, finally setting your purse down on the bed beside you. Things feel a bit different now as you’re both sober and serious, about to discuss something so inherently embarrassing it was almost too painful to even think about. But it has to be done, suck it up, and get it over with so that you can get on with the night…right?
“Yeah, me neither,” he agrees. You watch as he pulls a pair of sweatpants from his bag. “Care if I go change real quick?” he asks, erring on the side of etiquette for some reason, when last night you both saw more of each other than you’d really planned on.
“No, go ahead,” you say, and he slips into the bathroom. You take this second to take off your thick denim jacket and hang it on the back of a chair, and also remove your shoes and socks and place them neatly beside the door. You’re left in the comfy tight t-shirt dress, and you try to remind yourself that last night never even happened. It wasn’t real. Be cool.
You relax back on the pillows a little as you strive to get comfortable on the bed, not wanting to seem too relaxed but also be nonchalant, like this conversation was about to be the simplest thing you’d ever done. You tuck your barren legs up underneath you, leaning on your elbow against the thick white pile of pillows.
He finally emerges, now clad in a pair of dark gray sweatpants that are hugging his hips, and he’s completely devoid of a shirt at all. Before you can drink him in all the way, he’s sitting on the bed in front of you, crossing his legs and reaching for the remote, muting the TV.
You sit up to meet him, suddenly surprised at the amount of attention he’s paying you. He takes both of your hands into his, clammy but warm on your skin, and brings them to gather in his lap.
“Y/N,” he begins, “I don’t want to talk about this just as much as you probably don’t, but… I think I have some explaining to do,” he starts, his voice just a tad bit shaky as you know he is about to bare it all.
“I feel absolutely terrible about how things ended up last night. That was…not me, at all. I’d had too much to drink, and my phone was being the annoying piece of shit that it is… anyway, I’m not trying to make excuses.” He squeezes your hands and scoots himself a little closer to you, still staring directly into your eyes. “I know we’ve only known each other a few days, but. You’ve got me caught up, and…it’s not something I’m used to, Y/N,” he giggles, making you smirk back.
“Last night should have had a different outcome completely, and I blame myself for it. You can blame me for it, too. I just want you to know I’m sorry, and you were… fuck, you were beyond perfect—”
You cut him off, “You’re sure it wasn’t anything I’d done?”
“No! No no, you were fucking…flawless, Y/N. My vision may have been a bit blurry but you had it all. You have it all. Absolutely everything. And I feel like such a fucking dick that I didn’t get to…repay you. Give it back to you… you deserved more, and I’m…mortified. Humiliated over it. I wanted to dig a hole and cover myself up and never ever come out of it, honestly. I still do. It’s like the worst thing that can— anyway, you deserve to be treated right, you deserve to be shown the same kind of effort you were showing me last night…” you feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.
You lean a little into his hand, the feeling of his touch making you flutter with butterflies. “…And I haven’t thought of another goddamn thing since.”
You giggle a little. “Come on now,” you say shyly. “You’re a famous rock star, there’s no way your mind’s been taken up with me all day. I’m probably the lowest on your list of past flings.” You’re honest in your admission of feelings, but you secretly hope it will just fuel him to keep talking.
“No, think again, Y/N.” His voice suddenly deepens. “That’s absolutely untrue.” His fingertips trickle to the back of your neck. “The way your hips felt in my hands, the way you took over control and put matters into your own hands…fuck. And your mouth…” his thumb is pressing a little harder, now. “Yeah, I haven’t had a clean thought all day, if we’re being honest,” he laughs. You pull one hand away from his grip and place it on his knee, squeezing it just a little as your bodies slowly inch closer and closer in toward one another.
“I’ve never met another woman that’s captivated me so quickly before,” he continues, his breaths now shorter and chopped as he speaks. “You came in and fucked my whole world up, Y/N… You make me feel things I haven’t felt in years. You make me nervous…”
Your faces are within inches now as you return his gaze, listening to him talk. Your hand drifts higher on his thigh, gently squeezing at the muscle as it climbs. His hand is still firmly gripping your face, the ends of his fingertips now tickling at your hairline. You can feel the tingles going up and down your spine like flashing lights, each word that escapes from his mouth setting the next one on fire.
Finally you speak. “Look, Jake, you don’t have to explain anything else to me. I realize that something was off last night, and that isn’t how things probably go for you normally. I’ve felt our chemistry, and there’s something…there, ya know? And honestly there for a few minutes, we actually had things going, and I think we had it figured out. You felt…” you bite your lips together, feeling a little shy. “You felt really fucking good. But I don’t want you to be embarrassed or upset with yourself. We’re adults, and I’m aware that shit happens. Not every time can be perfect. You were still on my mind all day long, today. Been hoping you would text me, something,” you go on, feeling his fingertips grip and release your hair every few seconds.
A sly smile creeps to his lips as you watch his eyes squint. He looks relieved, but there’s also something else. “I hope you know that I’m more than capable of…making you feel good, and I’d really like it if you’d give me a second chance to redeem myself. I wanna prove it to you.”
You can do nothing but nod your head, feeling the magnetism of his pull bringing you forward, both of your chests heaving with want for each other now. You’re absolutely dying to touch him, reach out and feel the electricity radiating from his body, but you stop yourself. You’re going to let him make the first move.
You exhale onto him, letting the thick, hot air from your lungs dance across his lips as he releases your other hand, letting it come up to cup your other cheek. Your foreheads balance on one another’s, and you can feel the palpable tension building up second by second.
“Thank you, for hearing me out,” he whispers onto your lips, before gently pressing them onto yours, an almost featherlight peck. You both pull back for a second, taking a final look at one another before you crash into each other’s mouths again, heated, fiery, and wanting.
Your other hand grips his thigh, and you’re almost unable to stop yourself from pouncing on him, laying him back into the sheets and devouring him, but you hold back. You want to take your time, and you know he wants to do this the right way.
The kiss deepens, your tongues reaching far to taste every bit that they can. His hands slowly drift from your jawline to your shoulders and finally to your chest, lightly letting his fingertips descend before resting again on your hips. You’re both still sitting cross-legged on the bed, your knees touching each other’s as you each lean in. You want to make the next move, but again, you want to let him steer this ship as much as he wants to.
So for the moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss, concentrating and honing in on committing every detail of it to your memory. He’s not forceful, but he doesn’t hold back, either. It’s the perfect mix of control and submission, and you haven’t even moved past the most basic part yet. His hands move again, sneaking under your legs to pull you up onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist as you sit on his lap.
Your chests are pressed together now, heaving and already breathless. You can feel that he’s excited below you; thankfully things are already going way better than they were last night. You continue to devour one another, touching and feeling and pulling every piece of him that you could, and him doing the same in return. A quick visual pops into your mind- you’d worn a skimpy little red lace thong just in case, and now you’re silently thanking yourself for the choice, knowing that when the time comes, he’s going to go absolutely insane at the sight of you in it.
You take a second to pull away, grinding yourself down onto him as you trail lovebites down his neck and shoulder, and the sounds that growl from his chest make your nails dig into his skin. He hisses a little bit, but you’re more than positive that he likes the sensation. His hands grip your hips, pulling you down onto him again, making you take complete notice that he wants you just as badly. He leans his neck sideways as your tongue drifts from his collarbone up his jugular, the artery pulsing hard beneath your lips. You bite it lightly before continuing up to his ear, gently taking his ear lobe between your teeth.
You feel him pull back and laugh a little through his nose, and you’re sure you’ve found a sensitive spot. You grind yourself onto him again, this time pulling a full on groan from him. You leave your mouth hovering over his ear, blowing tiny bits of cold air onto the trail of saliva you’d left behind.
“I feel you, baby…” you whisper, allowing yourself the satisfaction of using a pet name for the very first time. His body language shifts, all his muscles tightening as you speak. “Wanna feel you more…” you mutter quietly, making his dick twitch between your legs. You could feel your warmth on the bulge of his sweatpants, and you secretly wish he would get on with it.
“You wanna do this…” he whispers back, his voice tight and gravely.
You nod hard, completely positive that you were going to go ahead with this second chance. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t…”
Finally, he reaches down to grip your thighs, squeezing his palms over them before gripping the hem of your dress, rolling it up over your hips, your chest, and finally over your head. Your arms fly up to help him remove the dress completely before he lets it fall to the floor beside you. His eyes black out with lust, his jaw falling open at the sight of you only in your bra and panties. He saw you like this last night, of course, but things are different now. Each of you has something to prove.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous…” he says, immediately burying his face between your breasts, rolling his tongue just beneath the thin fabric of your black bra. “Who knew you had all this hiding…” His hands reach up and grip the material, pulling it down to reveal your tits, bouncing and standing at attention for him. His hands waste no time rolling across them, kneading the muscle as your head falls back. His fingers massage your nipples and pull at the skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. God, you swear you could get off just from this…
He puts his right hand at the center of your sternum, pressing you back gently until you’re laid out on the bed. He scrambles to his knees, finally hovering over you a little. He lets his fingers glide from your chest down your stomach, finally hooking in the hem of your thong. He doesn’t pull it off, though… Instead he runs his fingers along the hem, around your hip, and to your asscheek, using his leverage and grip on the muscle to yank you back down toward him.
Your knee bends on its own from the motion, causing your legs to part a little as your core hits his knee. He bends down, laying sweet kisses to your stomach and hips, causing you to buck up and whine with every tiny little touch.
“Please Jake…” you think you might go insane if he doesn’t touch you soon, your core absolutely throbbing with want for him. Last night, you felt these same feelings. You felt this pull to him, this need. But after how it all went down, sitting there on your bed staring at the wall was the only reaction that seemed plausible… no post-sex afterglow, no blissful body aches… just an unsatisfied and discouraged feeling of letdown.
But now, twenty-four hours later, as you feel your body being pulled into him and touched by him again, you want nothing more than to replicate those few minutes of really good sex that you’d been able to achieve last night. Your body was practically begging you to let him have it.
You hear the air kick on in the room, and though you know it’s the heat, you still feel the blow of the fan forcing air across your nearly nude body. You feel chill bumps cover your entire body as you shudder a little.
“Fuck, got cold in here, didn’t it,” Jake breathes, shivering a little bit himself. “Come on, let’s get under the covers.” You don’t argue with him, feeling a chill diving down deep into your bones.
You sit up as he stands, pulling the heavy white linens back for you to get under. “Wait,” you say, walking on your knees back toward him. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pants, returning to kissing him hard as you pull them and his boxers all the way off. He smiles onto your lips, falling sideways a little as he trips over them around his ankles. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in for a tight embrace as your hands tangle in his hair, gripping into it as you pull him back down onto the bed with you.
You both slide underneath and cozy up, letting the warmth come over you and calm you back down again. It’s the sight of him, though, crawling into the bed with his eyes trained on you, fully nude with his bottom lip tucked into his teeth that sends you over the edge. Suddenly your chest is heavy and your eyes are glazed with lust, that blinding feeling of carnal need setting into your lower abdomen. You don’t feel this feeling much, but when you do, you know that what you’re about to experience will be nothing short of mind blowing…it’s like the universe knows you need to let go of all human emotion if you’re going to let your body experience the interaction just as it is.
Suddenly you find yourself flipped up and straddling his legs, pulling the comforter over your head as you descend down his body. “Whoa whoa, where you going?” he smirks, his smile crooked as his hands balance by his head.
“You can prove the rest to me in a minute. I never got to finish this part last night…” you say, disappearing into the darkness of the covers. You hear his laugh fall out as an exasperated huff, but he knows better than to stop you. You put your fingertips on the insides of his thighs, pushing them away from one another as you lightly tickle your nails up them, stopping short as you take his fully-hard dick in your palm, slowly working it from bottom to top.
“Thereeeee you are…” you sing in a teasing tone. Fuck yeah, there he is. This is what you felt that night in the bathroom. This is the him that wasn’t out to play last night.
“Shut the fuck up,” you hear him laugh lowly, gently patting a hand against your cheek. You can’t see him, but you know the exact expression that’s probably on his face right now.
You squeeze him as you work your hand, gently letting your lips graze his head as you stick your tongue out a little, barely wetting the tip. You taste his saltiness on your tongue, a tell-tale sign that he is absolutely ready for whatever else the night has to bring. You let the flavor sit on your tongue for a second before you take him down completely, knowing that if he has any memory of you doing this last night, it was probably spotty, at best.
“Fuck, baby…shit…” he says from the head of the bed, his thighs clenching together a little as his hands dip under the blankets to tangle in your hair. You begin to go to work, feeling halfway happy you are hiding away, able to perform without his watchful eye, but also a little sad he isn’t getting to see the show you’re putting on for him.
Like he can hear your thoughts, he speaks again, “What, you not gonna let me watch you?” He asks with a little demand in his tone, pushing the sheets up over your head to finally make eye contact. You decide to capitalize on it, fluttering your eyelashes as you take him as far as he can go, letting his tip graze the back of your throat. If he wants to watch, you’re going to give him something worth watching.
His reaction is warranted as you see him lose composure for a second, letting his head tilt back into the pillows as his jaw falls open and he lets out a cry that will be playing in the back of your mind until you fall asleep tonight. His hand tightens in your hair while the other one scoops up what has fallen in front of your face, moving it away from your mouth. His teeth grit hard as his hand pulls your hair, lifting you off and back down onto him just a little bit.
Your imagination starts to soar; it’s been a while since you’ve had a good romp, and after the letdown of last night and Jake promising to give you a good run tonight, you decide to keep the show rolling. You pop your lips off of him letting him drop your hair, spinning yourself around backwards to straddle him that way. Again, you thank yourself for the everything shower and shave this morning, knowing that now, the thin strip of red lace fabric is the only thing covering you as your ass is fully on display in front of his face.
Is it an invitation? Kind of…he said he wants to show off for you…right?
“God damn, girl…” he says through another rasp, his hand gripping your asscheek as you take him in your mouth again. You sway your hips side to side, arching your back to give him a full view of you. You feel the slightest tinge of embarrassment at your somewhat bold switch up, but after feeling his reaction and the actual pounding of the blood pumping through his dick, you know it’s all worth it.
Finally, after a string of curses from his mouth behind you, you feel his fingers slip under the thong, pulling it to the side as his fingers begin to explore you. First soft and gentle, but then switching to more of a rhythm as he feels how soaked you are. You moan onto his dick, letting your stomach fall into his as you lean back into his touch.
“Fuck, you’re so wet baby, just like last night. Gonna take care of you, I swear it…” he grumbles. His thumb finds your clit after pulling your wetness down to coat it, his digits slipping and sliding as he uses more pressure.
You whimper loudly without warning, the fire burning in your belly finding you more quickly than you’d anticipated.
You pop your mouth off of him for a breath, and he takes the second of separation to grab both of your hips, pulling you backward toward him. His tongue swipes once from your clit to your opening before he slides himself underneath you in one quick motion, pulling you down to be completely seated on his face.
Oh, there we go…
Should you do it? Should you go all in?
You only have a few seconds to toss it over in your mind before his hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling you down onto him even more. Yeah, he wants you to. His mouth is immediately connected to you, his tongue outstretched and licking over you as your hands balance on his stomach. “Fuuuuccckk…” you whine at a high-pitched tone, letting your head tilt back on your shoulders.
He’s wasting nothing at all. No time, no contact, no area of you goes untouched by his mouth. You begin swirling your hips, picking up a little every few seconds as you grind onto his tongue. It’s hot, but you still feel the chill of the air in the room, causing you to break out in another rush of goosebumps from the air and the pleasure. You catch a small glimpse of the two of you in the hotel room mirror, the visual more than you can bear as his tongue flicks across your sensitive bud again.
“Jake…shit…if you keep doing that…” your nails dig into his pecs again as you begin to feel your knees burning, your hips swirling and bouncing as he holds you steadily connected with his mouth. Even when you try to pull off to give him a breather, he pats your thighs with his fingertips, telling you to come back down.
“Mmmhm…” he agrees, shaking his face against you, the slight prickle of his mustache a blissful roughness on your sensitive spots. “Lemme have it, baby…” he works out, bending one knee up to sturdy himself. You can hear the pants of breath he’s taking as he talks before yanking your body weight right back down onto him again.
Your vision is beginning to blur as you feel the tightness forming in your stomach, every inch of you on fire as you feel the release building and building. Your movements become chopped and faulty, and just as you’re about to lose all composure, Jake grips the back elastic of your thong, letting the stretchy material snap back against your skin. The tinge of pain sends you toppling over the edge, your entire body shaking and trembling as everything goes white. He continues his work, his tongue still snaking and swirling in the most animalistic way, letting you ride through it until you’re back on earth.
When you’re finally able to breathe again, you lean forward onto all fours so he can sit up all the way, and instead of crashing back down beside him, all you want to do is give him more. Let him give you more. That was just a preview. Now…you want him. You need to feel him inside of you again.
You turn in the bed, catching sight of his face covered in your slick…his lips pink and blotchy as he runs his hands across his face. You inch your way back over to him, using your own palm to wipe from his forehead down to his chin, twisting your fingers over his chin to bring his face crashing onto yours again. You let your tongue sink into his mouth, tasting yourself as you kiss him with everything you have.
Your hands are all over each other as he takes you in one arm, pulling you back underneath the covers with him again. “I can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Y/N…I need you right the fuck now.”
You’re lying beneath him now, still riding the high of your overwhelmingly good orgasm, but quickly making your way back up to arousal again with the sight of him so wanting for you. His state is almost pathetic, the look on his face pitiful but commanding as his jaw clenches over and over again.
Your hands are attached to his sides as he reaches into the floor for his pants from earlier, pulling out a little square package. You notice it’s a different kind than the one he had last night, and you’re thankful he’s switched brands.
“Hurry, Jake…” you say, your heart pounding in your ears. You watch as he rips the wrapper in half with his teeth, removing the colored condom and spitting the trash onto the floor. He’s sat back on his haunches and you perk up onto your elbows, using one hand to help him slide it over himself, completely hard and ready for you.
You feel like you could spontaneously combust at any second, the need for him stronger than anything you’ve felt in a long, long time. The way he looks sitting between your parted knees, adoring every inch of you as he swallows down any inhibition or doubt that he’s still holding onto from the embarrassment of last night.
He takes a second more to place his hands on your knees, letting them drift down between your legs as he connects his two middle fingers to swirl your clit again. Your legs part even further as he kisses you again, finally towering over you completely before removing his hand, grabbing himself and lining up with you.
“Show me again…” you whisper into his ear, his hair completely falling all over your face. It’s mere seconds before you feel him gently press into you, only an inch or two before retracting his hips, letting out a calming exhale before he presses forward again, this time a little further. The stretch is blowing your mind already, your nails traveling down his back to grip his ass, willing him to fill you to the hilt.
“Easy, baby…just take it as I give it to you,” he growls in your ear, and his commanding words make you cease your movements altogether, releasing your strong grip on his back.
“No no…keep doing that, though…fuck, keep doing that…” he begs, touching his forehead to yours. His brows are pinched together, his tongue darting out to lick his lips every few seconds as his eyelids flutter open and closed. You do as he says, digging your nails into him as he thrusts slowly, each time a little further in.
The sensation is overwhelming, taking away every single one of your senses and directing them toward what he is making you feel right now. The noises you already can’t stop yourself from making are bouncing off the walls as you look behind him, watching his hips move the covers as he fills you, over and over until he finally bottoms out.
“God…fuck, Jake….” You both make pathetic sounds as he pauses there, letting himself feel you wholly. He pulls up, taking a rutted breath as he makes desperate eye contact with you. You grab the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss, eliciting a high pitched wail from him as he starts picking up a pace.
He breaks away after a second or two, “‘m not gonna go easy on you, baby…let me know if I need to slow down…” his words rip through your chest as if you’d just gotten a shot to the heart. You shake your head side to side.
“Lemme see it, come on…” you pant, already feeling your muscles doing their best to pull him in as far as your body will let him.
He picks up the pace now, jutting his hips deeply into you. The feeling is making your head feel cloudy and dense, but the pleasure filling your bloodstream is the only thing keeping you tethered to the here and now. He pauses, sitting up a little to toss your leg over his shoulder, slowing down just a little bit as he hits from a different angle. This one is deeper and titled a little, and you can feel the tip of him grazing your cervix with every push.
He can tell your facial expression has changed as he slows down again, almost to a complete stop. “What baby, you okay?” he asks.
“No no, yeah, don’t stop…please…” you motion with your hand for him to continue, the sickening pleasure mixed with the tightening pain, a blissful concoction that is hard to admit you love. But you do. You love it all.
His pace becomes furious again as he picks up where he left off, your leg draped over his shoulder as he has one hand over your knee, and the other gripping into the muscle of your thigh. He’s squeezing so hard, and his hips are pounding at such a forceful pace that you’re sure he is leaving bruises, but they’ll be bruises that you accept without argument, admiring them as you look in the mirror tomorrow.
He’s everything, right now…his eyes delving deep into yours as you drink him in, letting your sounds let him know how good he’s making you feel. How perfect you fit, how much better this is going than it did last night…
Suddenly he pulls all the way out of you, lifting your body to flip onto your stomach. His hands are under your hips, pulling them back again just the same as he had done earlier, but this time he hops to the floor, pulling you back again to meet him on the edge. “Hold on, baby,” he instructs, and you do, gripping the sheets tightly in your fists as you feel him enter you from behind, this time.
The height couldn’t be more perfect as this new position makes you drop your face to the mattress, fully surrendering yourself to him. You haven’t felt anything like him before, each and every move he makes is making your nerve endings burn with fire.
He lays a harsh smack to your ass, and you grunt in rebuttal, letting the delicious pain surge through your muscle. His pace quickens again, and his hand is on the back of your neck, pinning his fingers to either side of your throat from behind. “Fuck yes…” you breathe out, your eyes beginning to fill with clouds.
You hear the smack of his lips, knowing that he’d just wet his finger, and suddenly his other hand quickly finds your clit again, swirling tiny circles on it and sending you into a whole new wave of satisfaction. Your cries push out with every thrust, and you feel like you’re on the verge of tears. It’s all overwhelming and encompasses your every thought, the sounds of your bodies hitting together making it all even more devious when you close your eyes, imagining the scene.
He continues this way for a minute or so, the sounds of your bodies smacking together building up your second orgasm on their own.
Then, he’s pulling your torso up, your back meeting his chest as he slows the pace of his thrusts, but never letting up on the swirl of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…so perfect…” his words are calm now as he begins kissing your neck, still pumping in and out of you. His arm wraps around your front, pulling you back into him so you don’t collapse forward. He can tell you’re close.
“Jake…I’m almost…” you breathe, and you feel his dick twitch inside you.
“Me too, baby. Keep squeezing me just like that…” he asks as a whisper in your ear, his mouth still connected to your neck, his other hand gripping your tit.
With a particularly pointed flick to your clit, and a deep thrust, your entire world is crumbling beneath you, your body falling to pieces as you let it all go. His fingers squeeze your nipple hard, sending that sensation into overdrive. He isn’t far behind as his grip tightens all over you, his pace now rutted and messy as you hear him groaning in your ear. The entire world goes quiet for a minute as you hit the peak of your highs together, rendering both of you speechless as you hold your breath.
“Motherfucker…” he says as he finally comes back down, releasing you to fall forward onto the bed. All of your muscles are limp and lifeless as he collapses beside you, both of you too sweaty now to care about cuddling back up together.
“Yeah, mother fucker,” you laugh, pulling away a few strands of hair from his sweaty forehead and cheek. “That’s was…you were…” you open your mouth to find the words, but they simply don’t come.
He props up on his elbows, kissing a sweet peck onto your shoulder. “I don’t know what you were going to say, but I agree…” he chuckles. “You’re near goddamn perfect, Y/N.”
“Near?! What do you mean, near?!” you joke, shoving his mouth off of your shoulder.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Fuckin’ amazing, is what I meant. Flawless in every single way,” he says, his cheeks turning the sweetest shade of crimson.
You take turns in the bathroom cleaning up, and you can’t wipe the smile that’s permanently plastered to your face. He’d done it all, he’d proven himself to you, in the most mind-blowing way you could have dreamt up. You don’t want to admit it, but you can see yourself getting caught up by Jake just as he admitted he is caught up by you. And after sex like that, well…
You begin to pick up your things from the floor and redress just as he is coming out of the bathroom. “No no, where are you going?” he asks, his tone a little let down.
“I’m…going back to my room…” you say, caught off guard.
“No. Stay here, please? After that I– I don’t know, I don’t want you to go,” he says. “Please stay.”
You laugh, tossing your shoes back into the corner. “You sure? You won’t like, get in trouble or anything?”
He scoffs. “The fuck would I get in trouble for?”
“I’m your employee, Jake…” you remind him.
His face contorts up. “I don’t like how that sounds, remember.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a large white t-shirt, tossing it your way. You pull it over your head as he flips the light off, pulling the disheveled sheets back again for you both to climb into. You have to admit, you’re glad he asked you to stay, as you’re not sure if your tired muscles would have liked walking down the long hall to the elevator.
He pulls you in to spoon him, turning on the TV to the guide channel. His body feels perfectly aligned with yours as his hand rests on the outside of your thigh, the other propping his head up above yours.
“You’re a woman that I’ve taken a keen interest in, and am enjoying pursuing, and well, occasionally sleeping with every now and then. Who sometimes goes on errands for us,” he says in retaliation, making you giggle.
“…and your company also signs my paychecks,” you retort.
He hisses in a quick breath. “Ehhhh yeah, I guess you’re right. But just, I don’t like how it sounds. So quit saying it like that.” He leans down and presses a wet kiss to your cheek, sealing in his words.
“Okay, okay,” you agree.
After a few minutes, he speaks again through a yawn. “So, did I prove myself? Was my attempt at redemption enough to make you forget last night ever even happened?” he asks.
You close your eyes as you press your ass into his groin again, making him hop back a little in surprise. “Jake, I told myself last night never even happened as soon as you left my room,” you admit, and you are telling the truth. “I knew there was no way…”
You hear him huff a tiny laugh, “You had some faith in me, baby?”
Your blood runs a little hotter every time he calls you baby, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t completely enamor you.
You twist your body beneath his hand to lay on your back. You fluff the pillow beneath your head, feeling his free hand move to assist you in finding the perfect position. His right hand doesn’t leave your body though, sliding just under the hem of your shirt to rest on your bare stomach. “Maybe just a little.”
JAKE POV
Her skin is warm beneath your hand, her body still cooling down after the activities of the last hour. It was perfect. Every single thing you ever wanted it to be and even a little more. She is perfect. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you saw her grabbing her things, there was no way you could let her leave this room thinking that this was just sex. I mean, yeah maybe that was your intention tonight, but there was something else. You know that the sex wouldn’t have been what it was if there wasn’t something more lying beneath the surface. You wanted her to stay here with you. You wanted to hold her and be with her and enjoy the afterglow.
Even in the dark room you can’t take your eyes off of her. The way the TV is flashing blue light across her face she almost looks angelic. You let your fingers trace tiny circles into her skin as you look at her, completely enamored with every single detail of her. You reach for the remote flipping through the channels looking for anything you could mindlessly fall asleep to.
“Should I pick something and show you what a good movie looks like?” you tease, tickling your fingers into her stomach.
“I know what good movies are, thank you very much,” she quips, turning her head to look at you. Her eyes are shiny as they look into yours, lingering for just a second before flicking back to the TV.
Her hand reaches up to cradle your jaw, your face falling into her touch on its own accord.
“Hey…” she whispers, waiting for you to look at her. “Tell me why you were so in your head yesterday.”
Fuck. Do you tell her? Do you tell her the real reason? Do you risk ruining this moment with the truth?
“Ahh…It was a lot of things. Tour, traveling, the drinking, obviously. Also just a lot of pressure to do this and do that…or, don’t do this, and don’t do that. It’s hard sometimes, living this lifestyle. It’s incredibly isolating, and after a while you almost start to lose touch with what’s real,” you answer, skirting around the real reason.
She rolls to face you, not letting her hand leave your jaw as she presses a soft, delicate kiss to your lips. You feel your whole body relax into her, feeling a peace come over you that you haven’t felt in a long time. A kiss that told you she understands.
“I’m here, and this is real and you don’t have to feel isolated anymore, if you don’t want to,” she breathes.
You kiss her again, pulling her into you just a little closer. “I don’t want to.”
“Good,” she whispers, her lips brushing yours.
She drops her hand and nuzzles her face into your neck, a soft sigh falling from her lips. You know she’s tired, because you’re tired. You let your own head fall back onto the pillows, your arm wrapped around her shoulders as she snuggles into your side. You can’t help but let Josh’s words from yesterday float through your mind. You wonder if what you are doing is wrong, if you should make sure Isla knows you two are done before pursuing Y/N any further. Though, it’s a little too late for that.
You push it away as you feel Y/N drifting off to sleep on your chest, but now your mind is racing and you need to quiet it. You reach over, grabbing your phone from the nightstand and powering it back on. You’re immediately met with about ten missed calls and too many texts to count. You quickly open them, clearing out the notifications but paying no mind to what they say. Instead you open your shared playlist, the perfect song coming to mind.
You sneakily add ‘Are You Satisfied?’ by Reignwolf to the playlist, knowing she will get a laugh out of that when she sees it. You turn your face to her head, letting your lips brush the crown of her head as you breathe her in. The feeling of her next to you and her deep rhythmic breathing is starting to slow your busy mind. You lock your phone and place it back on the nightstand, turning off the TV and letting your eyes close. You replay the night in your head, every perfect second of it, praying that it will make an appearance in your dreams tonight.
—
You aren’t sure what woke you, maybe the heat of the room, or the slamming of the door in the hallway. Your eyes pop open, scratchy and dry as they adjust to the darkness of the room. You immediately feel Y/N next to you, no longer on your chest but her legs still tangled with yours. Your heart swells at the vision of her curled up in the bed next to you.
You reach out for your phone, tapping the screen to see what time it is. 4:46AM.
You see that a new song has been added to your shared playlist, and you smile knowing that Y/N must have woken up sometime during the night and saw your addition. You tap the notification and bring up the playlist to see what she added, letting a small laugh leave your lips as it loads. ‘Whatta Man’ by Salt-n-Pepa was added two hours ago. She’s so fucking cute you could hardly stand it. You had half a mind to wake her up and show her all over again just how much you wanted her.
However, when you close out of the playlist a new round of missed calls graces your screen, along with a seemingly endless string of texts from Isla. You let out a sigh as you tap the message icon to see what she could possibly need this badly.
Opening the messages you see a link to Danny’s close friends story sent at nearly one in the morning. You furrow your brow and tap on the video, seeing Sam and Lyla taking tequila shots together, but of course in the background of the video just barely noticeable, is you leaving the bar with Y/N.
Goddamnit Daniel.
Isla
1:12AM: Who the fuck that girl Jake?
Isla
1:25AM: She’s cute, nice!
Isla
1:30AM: Is this why you’ve been so “busy” all the sudden?
Isla
1:41AM: Does she even know about us or is she just some whore you found while you’re there
Isla
1:52AM: Nevermind! It was almost too easy to find her profile, this her? Y/N?
Isla
1:55AM: Oh my god, she works for you…
Isla
1:56AM: Management is gonna love this. ❤️
Isla
1:58AM: How about you just call me tomorrow
Mother fucker. Motherfucker.
You debate getting out of bed to call her right now. You know how she is and you know what she is capable of, and you’d be goddamned if that woman was going to ruin this for you. You start to type, the fury boiling in your veins as your thumbs swipe across the keyboard, but suddenly you feel Y/N stirring next to you and it’s as if all the rage you were holding in disappeared. She rolls towards you, her hand coming to rest on your arm as she snuggles her head down into the pillow. You felt yourself relax under her touch, and instantly the message on your screen didn’t seem to matter. You deleted everything you typed and closed out of it, placing your phone back on the nightstand.
You looked at her, sleeping so peacefully next to you and decided that all of that could wait. You knew that it would only be a matter of time before Isla made her move, and when she did she would strike to kill. You grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her into you, feeling her fit so perfectly, so naturally into your arms that it made you weak.
You knew there was a chance that this night, this one night, may be all you get with her, and you were going to enjoy every single last second of it, knowing that morning would come, and with it a likely very nasty conversation between you and Isla. But more than that, it brought the promise that Y/N’s face would be the first thing you would see, and that alone had you closing your eyes ready to face another day.
.
.
.
.
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Taglist: @britney-gvf @gretavanmoon @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk@myownparadise96 @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @gvf-luna @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby
#greta van fleet#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van fleet smut#greta van smut#greta van fic#jake kiszka#jacob thomas kiszka#greta van fluff#gvf smut#gvf fic#gvf series#jake gvf#gvf#jake kiszka smut#jacob kiszka#gretavangroupie#jtk x reader#gretavanfluff#gretavanmoon#greta van angst#greta van fleet fic#jake kiskza x reader#Jacob Kiszka#josh kiszka#Daniel wagner#sam kiszka#the ripe and the ruin
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"wow. this must be what having bitches feels like"
#my art#art dump#sketches#jtk fanart#jtk#creepypasta jtk#jtk x reader#jtk smut#jeff the killer#crp#creepypasta smut#creepypasta#creepypasta art#creepypasta fanart#creepypasta fandom#slender mansion#slenderman proxy#nina the killer#nina the killer fanart#jeff x nina
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Ej: get out of the frame Jeff!!
#what fucking dweebs#absolute criminals#my art#digital art#creepypasta fandom#creepypasta fanart#creepypasta#fanart#jeff the killer fanart#jeff the killer#jtk fanart#jtk x reader#creepypasta jtk#jtk headcanons#ben drowned fanart#ben drowned#ben drowned headcanons#ben drowned fanfic
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A TEST OF FAITH.
SUMMARY 、YOU’RE THE PRIEST’S DAUGHTER, SWEET AND INNOCENT AND FREE FROM SIN. UNTIL JEFFREY WALKED IN AND TURNED YOUR WORLD UPSIDE DOWN.
FEATURING 、JEFF MASON X F!READER
WARNINGS 、FINGERING (M -> F), PUBLIC FINGERING, BLASPHEMY, RELIGION KINK, CORRUPTION KINK
NOTES 、i gotta thank my lovely mutual @hysterotic for helping me flesh out ideas for this one. love you babe also depending on how well this does. i’ll do part 2 LMFAO
The air is tense on the ride to church. The sun casts the world in a warm glow as it slowly rises beyond the horizon and you keep your eyes fixated on the blur of trees passing by as your father drives and taps his finger impatiently on the steering wheel.
You sigh softly and look into the rear view mirror at his reflection. “Daddy, what’s wrong?” You ask gently and you hear your father sigh almost tiredly.
“Nothing, sweetheart it’s just…” He contemplates it for a moment before shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I don’t want you feeling burdened in any way this morning.” It’s Sunday, of course he didn’t want you feeling anything but the spirit of the Heavenly Father washing over you.
You hum rather defeatedly, resting your chin in the palm of your hand and staring out the window once more. “Mkay..” You mumble out, saddened your father didn’t feel like he could share whatever wad weighing hard on him but maybe the Lord could help ease the heavy feeling he has today. You close your eyes and say a small prayer just as you feel the familiar turn onto the gravely trail that leads up to the church you’ve spent your entire life going to.
The pearly white chapel comes into view and your eyes gravitate to the sight, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you see other members pulling up around the same time as you and your father and mother. You sit up straight as your father parks the car and tugs the keys out, fixing your sundress as you wait patiently for your father to exit first before following soon after.
The familiar faces by the church, idly chatting all turn and smile at the sight of you. The older women compliment you, saying you look like an angel as always in those pretty sundresses you always wore.
You’d giggle bashfully in response to their compliments, cheeks warm to the touch as you thank them and compliment them back before the sound of a loud rumble echoes out and you turn to look over your shoulder at the road as a noisy motorcycle pulls into the spot beside your parents’ car. You squint your eyes due to the harsh brightness of the morning sun peeking through the distant trees and into your field of vision as you try to get a good look at the individual. It’s hard to see much until the person gets off the bike shortly after and starts coming toward you.
“For christ— Ahem, you took your sweet time getting here didn’t you, son?” A loud voice from behind you speaks up. You notice the way your father seems to hold a cold stare you’ve almost never seen on his face before as he watches the guy approaching you chuckle, a deep rumbly sound that has you surprised to hear such a deep voice.
“Took the scenic route.” He says with a grin in his voice and as the bright leaks of sunlight hide behind his tall frame, you finally get a good look at his face. And boy did you feel your heartbeat quicken.
His eyes look down into yours and you instantly tear your stare away and focus on the ground beneath you. Grass has never looked so greener before until now.
Your father reluctantly shakes hands with the guy whose appearance is not very fitting, nor would you consider it appropriate for church service. The black ripped jeans with a chain dangling on them, dirtied combat boots, a learner jacket on and somewhat hiding the black band tee he wore underneath. It had a print of a music band you’ve never heard of and it left you feeling curious. You’ve never heard such music before. Anything remotely inappropriate or dark and taboo wasn’t allowed in your parents’ house.
You feel like you’ve stared for too long and look over to your mother for guidance and she gives you a knowing look before subtly glancing at the church doors. You excuse yourself but shortly after, everyone else is coming into the quiet place and the sounds of footsteps and quiet chatter echo throughout the building. You take a seat on the long bench you’ve always sat at while your mother sits on the other side of the church at a different place. You see the man that had talked rather loudly behind you earlier come in along with who you presume is his wife and a rather young looking teenage boy, but where was the motorcycle guy that he had called ‘son’?
“Hey,” Your eyes widen at the sound of a low and deep voice in your ear and you whip your head around to look to your side where you see the aforementioned motorcycle guy. His black hair frames around his face and he smirks at you. “Did I scare ya?”
You blink a few times before shaking your head, mumbling a soft ‘no’ in response to which he chuckles at before letting his arm rest on the back of the bench, nudging your shoulders ever so slightly but you try to ignore it. Your father however is practically staring daggers into the boy when nobody’s eyes are on him before he stands up and prepares to start the day’s service.
You try to scoot away from the strange guy, keeping your eyes on those that sing and you can feel his eyes on and it makes goosebumps rise along your arms.
Suddenly you’re asked to sing and you feel your heart drop to the floorboards. You’ve never felt so nervous in all your life, it was something you were always asked to do by other members of the church so why did it feel so scary to do all of a sudden? Was it because of the mysterious boy beside you? Who knows. You swallow thickly, standing up with a tremble in your legs and hands so you grip onto the bench in front of you. You clear your throat quietly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats so wildly and so hard it makes your throat want to close up on you. You manage to start singing a hymn, one that everyone seemed to love hearing you sing the most and as you let your eyes flutter closed you relax your nerves and let the words flow through you and out into the world.
It’s only a few short minutes and then you’re politely sitting down but as you do so you feel something against the side of your thigh and see his own pressed snug against yours. Did he move closer or did you accidentally sit too close? You apologize in a whisper, trying to move away but he shakes his head at you with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Nah, I don’t mind, angel.” He says back, a whisper in a low voice only you could hear and it makes your heart flutter with an unfamiliar feeling as you force your attention back to those around you as people begin to testify.
You’re so focused on them all, nodding and feeling the spirit seep into your being that you don’t notice the unfamiliar touch against your dress as something slides up your thigh. It makes you tense up for a second when you realize and you glance at the guy who’s seemingly leaning a little too close for comfort but it would appear to others that he’s just trying to see the individuals that stand up and testify better.
“Don’t let temptation distract you from the words of God, doll.” He whispers with a grin on his face, eyes flicking down to your doe eyes that tear themselves away from his face and over to the other people.
He was right. No matter what he was doing, whatever it might’ve been… It was just the devil trying to keep you in his hold. Yet it was so hard to focus when the pads of his fingers grazed over your panties making you shiver slightly.
You didn’t know what he was doing. You’ve never been touched anywhere by anyone before, especially down there, but it was a rather nice and foreign feeling that you found yourself wanting just a little more of. Unconsciously, your legs spread just enough to let his hand cup your clothed sex and he rubs his index and middle against your panties until he feels a damp patch that makes him bounce his knee to keep himself from dragging your foolishly innocent self out of the church and fucking you in the bathroom.
Your father mentions an individual’s name for them to lead into prayer and everyones, including your own, heads turn down and al eyes are closed as silence envelopes the church and the only voice heard is a wretched sinner crying out for the Heavenly Father as he gets on his knees and prays.
You’re focused on listening to his words, feeling the pain he’s burdened with carrying as your brows knit together and you listen thoughtfully. Then something cold and foreign pushed against your nether regions and your thighs twitch as your eyes open and you glance to the guy beside you. He grins sinisterly, like he was the devil incarnate and you shiver under his gaze.
“Listen to ‘im, angel. Hear the cries of a fellow sinner and pay attention.” He whispers with a sick chuckle as he pushes his digit into your warmth and nudges it against your gummy walls. It’s uncomfortable for a few seconds, a new and foreign feeling you’ve never felt before but you unknowingly clench around him as he begins to pump it at a rather quick pace that has pleasure tingling in your gut suddenly as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to block out whatever he was doing to you in attempts to distract you.
Was it wrong? Was this something bad that he was doing to you? You didn’t know and couldn’t find the right answer you tried to search for in your mind. Whatever it was, it had a great effect on you and when you opened your eyes and prayer ended, tears blurred your vision but not from the Holy Spirit overwhelming you, oh no, it was that guy’s hand that overwhelmed you.
A tight coil burns hot in your belly as your legs tremble and you force yourself to straighten up and stare onward as your father stood to his feet and started to preach. Your mind was clouded, hazy and lagged behind on the words and sounds that met your ears but the warm breath tickling the side of your neck kept you alert and on edge in more ways than one.
You bite your bottom lip, trying to hear your father’s words as it touches the souls of many in the church. Your brows twitch, eyes gliding over the various people and a wave of feel-good tingles seeps into your being and your eyes flutter closed for a moment, a soft sigh leaving you glossy lips.
Your father’s preaching reaches its peak just as your thighs squeeze around the strange guy’s hand tightly, as if they never wanted him to leave and then euphoria washes over you. Like being hit by the Holy Spirit, your body tenses up and warmth floods your being as a sharp but quiet gasp leaves you and you curl in on yourself, hands gripping the cushion of the bench by your thighs. You heave quick breaths, heart racing in your chest as those digits curl into something incredibly sensitive inside of you before pulling away and you’re left feeling empty and exhausted.
You watch with half lidded eyes as he raises his hand up towards his face, it’s glistening with something slick on it and you wonder if it came from you. The thought embarrassed you to no end and when he popped the digits into his mouth, sucking the substance off them and then grinning at you as he shoved his hand into his pocket, it made you feel pulled towards him as if you couldn’t get enough despite knowing he was no good for you.
Your cheeks feel warm to the touch, cupping your hands against the hot flesh as you try to slow your breathing and shortly after, church has ended and people are socializing outside. You muster up the strength to stand on legs wobbly like a newborn fawn, hearing that boy chuckle at you as he gets up and walks away like nothing had happened. It saddens you a bit, you had felt some type of connection because of that strange interaction with him but you try to ignore it and move on just like he was so easily able to.
You manage to get out of the church, heading for the car earlier than your parents would’ve liked. You felt so lightheaded you just needed somewhere a little more private to cool off for some reason. You don’t get there in time before that boy is reaching you however.
“Aw, leavin’ already?” He’s teasing, he knows he’s the reason you feel so odd right now and the more you look at him the more you want to cling onto him. Thoughts that aren’t your own begin to fill your head, inappropriate and so lewd it makes you shiver with a mix of disgust and embarrassment directed toward yourself.
“I just need to cool off.. It’s warm out today.” You try to reason, voice a bit strained and shaky as you try to stand up straight but it’s obvious you’re a horny wreck in his eyes and he chuckles at you.
“S’that it? Just got too hot?” He takes a few steps towards you, an unreadable look in his eyes and you struggle to hold his gaze as you fumble over your words until he’s got you cornered with your back against the car. Those wide doe eyes, glassy with need, almost gets under his skin. He grins and it makes your stomach do flips when he looks at you that way. “Y’sure it’s not because I touched ya right here?” His hand forces its way between your trembling thighs and nudges against your nether regions making your breath hitch in your throat as you stare at him completely stunned.
Your hands grab at his wrist, shaky and weak as you attempt to pull him off but he only stops terrorizing your poor little innocent heart when he hears footsteps approaching.
He pulls away, straightening his posture while you push yourself off the car slowly as if you were in a daze at the moment.
“Is something wrong?” It’s your father, concern laced in his voice as he gives you a protective glance and moves towards you all while giving the boy an odd look.
The black haired guy scoffs with a smirk. “Nah, was j’st talkin’ to her is all.” He says it in a way that’s either condescending, sarcastic or as if he wasn’t saying the full truth. It’s hard for your brain to decipher properly anyways as your eyes bore into the grass beneath you, looking at anything but him.
“I’d much rather prefer if you didn’t speak to my daughter, Jeff Mason.” Your father says and it’s only now that you’ve learned the guy’s name. Your eyes flicker up to his face only to find him already looking back and shyness gets to you, making you tear your gaze from his.
There seems to be a tension between your father and Jeff, a staring contest ensues for a few moments that begin to feel like hours until that man you’d heard speaking before church comes up to the three of you.
He forces a smile and puts a hand on Jeff’s shoulder, squeezing a little too tight. “Jeffrey here will be sure to do that. Won’t you, son?” There’s an underlying authority to his voice as he looks at Jeff who glares back silently before shaking his hand off and walking towards his motorcycle with not a single word to follow.
The middle aged man chuckles awkwardly and tries to make small talk with your father but it doesn’t do much, if anything it would seem your father didn’t like either of them and that made you more curious than it should have.
You walk around the car to get into the car without disrupting their— very tense and awkward —conversation, trying to ignore Jeff who’s standing by his bike with his eyes glued onto you.
“Hey, Mary.” He calls out and you blink a few times before turning to look at him. He grins, “Yeah, you.”
“That’s.. That’s not my name, Jeff.” You didn’t even mean to say his name. It just spilled out by accident, he repeats the way you say it on loop in his head immediately.
“Sure it isn’t.” He grins with a teasing tone and crosses his arms as he looks you up and down slowly, undressing you with his eyes but you’re none the wiser. He finally looks at your face and smiles wickedly. “I’ll see ya around won’t I, angel?”
Your hold on the handle of the car door tightens a bit at the way he says it, heart fluttering in your chest and your knees weak. You feel a little bold, taking a deep breath as you hold his gaze. “Are you implying you’ll come to visit more often?” You meant the church, it’s obvious in the way you say it that you meant it in a church setting. But Jeff is far too sick and twisted to accept it as just that and that alone.
He chuckles at you, an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. “Heh, y’gonna see me a lot more often than just here.”
#jeff mason x reader#jeff mason smut#creepypasta jtk#creepypasta smut#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x you#creepypasta#creepypasta x female reader#creepypasta x y/n#jeff the killer x you#jeff the killer x reader#jeff the killer x y/n#jeff the killer smut#jeff the killer#jtk x reader
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SOMETHING... | JTK
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader
Word Count: 10.6K
Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…
A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :)
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*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist
MINORS DNI
MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth.
The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy.
There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern.
He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all.
Professor Kiszka on the other hand…
When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man.
You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him.
3 Months Ago
The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad.
The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?
Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.
Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last.
Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…
“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone.
“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off.
You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears.
Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”
“Just for you.”
And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare.
The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather.
You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room.
The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway.
You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…
One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room.
It was empty.
The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work.
You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.
You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away.
Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever. A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.
“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway.
You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.
You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover.
“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond.
He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level.
He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”
“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you.
“-Your favorite?” He asks.
You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry?
“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him.
You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point.
He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?”
You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite.
“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer.
He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.”
He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table.
“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously.
You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process.
“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort.
He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.”
Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.
“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”
He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat.
“You don’t approve?” He scoffs.
“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.”
“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”
You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber.
“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly.
You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart.
He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger.
“Please, call me Jacob.”
You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips.
“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”
You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake.
His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand.
“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…”
You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”
He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings.
“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”
You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.
“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him.
Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite.
Present
In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve.
Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try.
Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress.
You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items.
One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation.
“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so?
“You look like a pirate.” You responded.
A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked.
His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth.
When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.
You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag.
He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there?
This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.
“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”
Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement.
“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago.
“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.
He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…”
You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”
He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”
Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave.
“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.”
The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up.
You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him.
He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you.
You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him.
You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.”
He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.”
You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him.
You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.
A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard.
“Hey.” He prods.
You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands.
“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption.
“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues.
No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…
You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.”
He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.”
Two Hours Later
Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.
The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?
You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction.
You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product.
Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too.
Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance.
Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it.
Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello.
You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.
You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript.
You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old.
You press play and lower the needle onto the music.
Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold.
Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…
You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity.
You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete.
You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important…
The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…
You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar.
The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels.
Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.”
He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass. He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face.
You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily.
“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter.
You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before.
“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”
“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?”
You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you.
He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..”
You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters.
“Oh, dear god.” You sigh.
“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”
“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.”
He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.
“Want to know something funny?” He questions.
You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue.
“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”
You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot.
“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.”
He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.”
Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care?
“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-”
“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”
He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him.
“Did I offend you?” You ask.
“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.”
“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate.
“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...”
You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.
“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.”
He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down.
He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks.
Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you.
No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you.
The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page.
“See this paragraph here?” He questions.
You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement
You need to focus.
You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?”
He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.”
You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost.
“What…? What problem?”
You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist.
He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ”
You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside.
You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible.
“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”
Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from.
“Professor-” You initiate.
“Jacob.” He replies.
“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.”
He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”
You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all…
Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.
You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin.
“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-”
“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”
You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand.
“You… You were?” He searches for the answer.
“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off.
“But?” He inquires.
You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber.
“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.”
Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression.
“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.
You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction.
“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said.
“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you.
You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in.
“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”
“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”
He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.”
You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?”
“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.”
He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.
“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”
“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone
You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared.
“How rough are we talking…” You prod.
The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.”
You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private.
You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before…
Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting.
His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles.
“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”
You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest.
His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language.
He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood.
“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”
“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter.
You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your…
His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.”
“Yes-”
Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck.
His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing.
You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect.
His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you.
He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off.
“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked.
You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from.
“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down.
“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.
He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.
“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?”
You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”
He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”
Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments.
“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice.
He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely.
“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.”
The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on.
He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion.
“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.”
You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own.
His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses.
“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”
His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him.
“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…”
Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease.
His kisses start to graze you closer to your…
He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means.
“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.”
He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm.
“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”
“Good girl.”
Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you.
Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-”
Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to.
His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder.
“Green?” He asks, looking for permission.
You nodded your head ferociously
You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop.
“Words.” He barked.
Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…”
“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.
“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg.
The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again.
He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding.
Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room.
“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”
You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you.
His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks.
“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?”
Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now.
“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”
Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you.
He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity.
“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”
He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once.
He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending. It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more.
You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you.
Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore.
“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation.
He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end.
Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness…
He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped…
Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen.
A knock at the classroom door.
“Hello?” Someone called out.
There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew.
“Everything okay in here Kiszka?”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”
#jake kiszka#greta van smut#gvf fic#gvf smut#jake kiskza x reader#jtk x reader#jake gvf#professor fic#gvf#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiszka smut#jake kiszka gvf#jake kiszka series#jake kiszka angst#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet smut
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A Jeff The Killer x Reader Idea:
Criminal investigator reader, who’s been working their ass off to make headway on a serial killer case.
They’re slowly but surely making progress, despite how tedious it is. Everywhere they turn there’s no matches, no witnesses, no identified suspects. They’re still going, however, and they might finally be getting somewhere.
Then, a mysterious letter finds its way into their mailbox. It’s addressed only to “The Investigator.”
It’s only the first of many letters taunting Reader, revealing just enough about the killer and the crimes to be compelling but not enough to give Reader anything substantial. The killer gets bolder with each letter, even getting a bit crass, dare I say even lewd with some of his writings. Reader isn’t having any of it. They don’t budge on the case, not even considering quitting despite the threats.
Then, finally, the last letter comes.
It simply reads “Come out and play,” followed by a date, time, and coordinates that lead Reader to the woodland depths of the nearby park…
thoughts? feelings? 🎤
#jeff the killer#creepypasta#creepypasta x reader#jtk x reader#jeffrey woods#jeff the killer x reader#gender neutral reader#fic idea
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London || JTK
18+MDNI
Paring: asshole!Jakexreader(f)
A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I can’t even tell y’all how nervous I am; this is my first fic AND the first smut I’ve ever written. I’m a Third Eye Blind freak and just generally think this song is one of the sexiest songs in existence so naturally I knew I wanted to write this fic. Big big love and thank you’s for my editor @tommie-gvf. I loved writing this so much and didn’t think it could get any better until I saw everyone’s reactions.❤️🩹
I ask for your patience as I’m a beginner and am very open to criticism. Pretty please tell me what you think!
Summary || Jake has a lover that lives in London. He visits her every time he’s in town, but recently the simmering situationship has taken a toxic turn.
Content Warnings || swearing, alcohol consumption, party setting, toxic relationship, jealousy, over possession, verbal aggression, slight physical aggression, big angst, graphic sexual depictions
Kink Content || dom(m) and sub(f) shift, [semi] public sex, dirty talk; praise & [public] degradation, sadism, zelophilia, katoptronophilia, daddy kink, slight impact play, nipple play, dry humping, hand job, ejaculation(f), oral sex(f receiving), penetrational sex
Word Count || 8.3k+
*disclaimer - I have no idea how to write any European, reader’s origin is up for interpretation*
You continue to refresh your phone screen in hopes that it will load a new message or maybe even reveal a glitch.
“You know,” your best friend, Claire, aspires to tempt you back to reality, “that guy hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since we got here, right?”
A hum in acknowledgment of her bait is the only thing your split attention will allow as you proceed in refreshing your messages. Even going as far to restart your phone.
“He's kind of cute,” you return another hum as she sings further, “like really cute.”
“Go on then, have a go,” you try to push her self-assigned matchmaking duties back on her.
You have no choice but to be shoved back into the rumbustious surroundings of the overpopulated flat party as your phone is suddenly ripped from your hands. Claire raises it above her head not even bothering to investigate what might be holding you hostage. She is well aware of your antics.
“Please don’t tell me you're texting him again,” she lifts the device higher as you futilely lunge for it.
“He said he was coming,” you begin to gather a defense, “but I haven’t gotten a response since I sent the address… maybe hold my phone a bit higher?”
Claire lets out a monstrous groan of frustration and rolls her eyes, “You really are helpless!”
“I know,” you repine and give her your best pleading puppy dog eyes and hold two starving hands out in front of you.
Begrudgingly she gives in, slamming your phone against your awaiting palms. As soon as your phone is back in your possession you return to refreshing your messages, all in vain of course.
Whenever Jake was in London he always visited you, sometimes even flying you out to whatever part of Europe his show was in or just because he wanted to see you. A trail of one night stands that became ritual.
The nights always started out modest, the two of you innocently traipsing about parties and bars accompanied by his brothers. You would all share drinks and stories for hours, belly laughing until you were ceased by sore ribs, as if you had all been friends for decades.
Nevertheless without fail, as the drinks poured further so did Jake’s appetite for you. He'd always shadow you with some kind of seemingly harmless touch; a hand on the small of your back progressed into squeezing your knee and then thigh, to tugging you into him by the waist when he was made uncomfortable or wanted to share a secret amongst chaotic surroundings.
One by one, his brothers would slowly fade out; Sam first, then Danny, and Josh was always the last to let the party die, taking it with him when he went. From that point, the evenings between you and Jake would morph into a primitive and sensual burn. Teasing and tearing at each other until the two of you eventually spent the rest of your night curled around the other. Once again, darting back to your guarded bubble of shy soft intimacy; neither of you willing to accept it was different from anything else anyone made you feel. Time spent together was something the both of you always rushed through days for, memories neatly placed in a treasure chest of beloved keepsakes when it was over.
But lately, it was different. Something brittle and bitter had blossomed. Jake had gotten only bigger and busier. Sometimes, he’d pule about missing you so naturally you’d beg to see him. He’d send beautiful trinkets and fine clothing from whatever part of the world he was in that next week to ineffectively make up for his absence no token would ever emulate.
Though you are elated for him, you are also acutely aware of your need to move on in order to outrun the pining tidal wave that threatens to swallow you whole. You’d tried before, but no man was Jake. And seeing you with other men only spelled him into a envious fit. A sight that tormented you both, the other too afraid to cry out as nothing was ever set in stone.
So instead you’d go to war over some irrelative thing and he’d ultimately swear on his beloved he didn’t give a shit about you and when or if he’d see you again; only to gift you some pretty peace offering in amends to offset the vigorous cycle once again.
Like a vinyl record against the needle, the two of you are going round and round the same circle; different songs, same sonic. You know if the pattern continues, you are slowly headed towards the dead wax. You hope tonight will mend the broken pieces between you as he vowed he’d come to spoil you a few weeks ago.
“You need to cut him off,” Claire has stated her stance on the situationship brazenly before, “all he does is treat you like shit. He entertains you from a distance and keeps you waiting until he wants to get his dick wet.”
Having been through this debate with her many times, you only frown and exhale, “It's not like that and you know it.”
She mirrors your disapproval, “Isn’t it?”
Just as you are forming your rebuttal your phone buzzes in your hands; confiscating your ability to exist anywhere other than your screen. It might as well have looked like you were going to dial 9-9-9 the way you dementedly scramble to open your phone.
JAKE:
Hey, angel. Sorry, I got stuck at this dive with my brothers and now they don’t want to leave. I think we’re just going to spend the rest of the night here. Maybe I’ll catch you next time?
You had not been enjoying your time at this party. You had been ignoring your best friend. You had been ignoring cute flirty strangers. You had been exuberantly anticipating Jake’s company tonight for months. All to be left on read, pathetically pining for hours now; all so you could be stood up by the man.
Your chest bursts with flames of mortified resentment, fueled by his impudence. Irate does not even scratch the surface of how your heart pounds. Your blood is scalding, skin scorching.
Jake made you feel stupid yet again.
Your face must give you away before you can even get out a word of impertinence as you look up from the insolent text to see Claire smugly sipping her drink.
A knowing smirk spreads viral across her face, “He's not coming, is he?”
The last thing you want to do is tell her bitch ass she is right in your state of red. Instead, you offer her a question you know will sate her pride without feeding on your wounds.
A vengeful grin takes hold of you “Cute stranger checking me out, you mentioned?”
You have never seen her look so pleased with herself as she nods in the direction of a man at the end of the bar whose gaze you hold.
There is no way you are going to let this night go to waste. Not after Jake made such a desperate-looking fool out of you.
You decide if he is going to ignore you it's going to be his loss, not yours. You are not going to let him waste your time and you are definitely not going to let him take your fun.
You throw your most alluring eyes and innocent smile at the stranger and wave him over. He returns the greeting and calls some indiscernible phrases out to the bartender before receiving three drinks and walking over to your table.
He is tall, dark, and handsome. The complete opposite of Jake. A promise of great distraction.
He sets the three drinks down at your table pushing two glasses of what he claims to be screwdrivers towards Claire and yourself. He then proceeds to introduce himself as Hunter through an almost seemingly painful giant smile.
You can’t help but compare it to your favorite pretty and childlike grin Jake always wore, a sight you ache for.
You cordially engage in small talk with him, asking and answering the procedural “Where are you from?”, “What do you do?”, and “What do you like to do?”; fitting in the occasional desirous glances and seemingly innocent yet lingering touches when appropriate.
He is definitely funny, but not witty and satirical like Jake’s humor; undeniably intelligent, but not in the philosophical and existential sense like Jake.
You mentally berate yourself for still thinking about a guy who is obviously not thinking about you when Hunter clutches your hand, ripping you from your dissociation.
He points towards the middle of the flat where you see multiple people frolicking about, “Do you want to dance?”
Why the hell not? You throw back the rest of your drink and smirk wide in response. This seems to oddly appease Hunter but you think nothing of it as you feel yourself being towed to the make-shift dance floor.
At first, the movements are modest, just an adventurous activity between acquaintances. But after a few songs, you feel the alcohol rid you of your inhibitions, most likely against your better judgment, but at this moment you can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any care if you tried.
You grind and tangle yourself up with this man you hardly know. He seems into it and you are blissfully swept away from your afflictions, a win-win. So what is the harm?
As soon as the thought has come and gone, you feel it; an overwhelming perilous sensation of being surveilled. You turn your attention over to where you had left Claire at your table to see her deeply engaged in conversation with Josh.
Fuck. Where there is a Josh there is most certainly a Jake.
You whirl towards the flat’s bar to lock eyes with the source of the sinister stare; an infuriated Jake leaning against the countertop, arms crossed. He holds your gaping stare with a blistering nostril-flared one of his own, licking over his salient bottom lip into that bewitching pout and clenching his jaw.
A small part of you threatens to collapse under guilt as if you have been caught doing something wrong. But you find the majority of you seethes under a new tantalizing flame, devouring any clemency present.
Almost drunk off of this new power dynamic, finally, you have the upper hand and Jake is the one squirming. Of course, you want Jake over this clown any day of the week but he had made you wait almost all night, he can definitely handle a few more minutes.
You spin, now facing towards Jake’s beaming acrimony from the bar, allowing him a full access view to you commandeering one of Hunter's hands connected to the small of your back and slowly guiding him down to your ass, the other to your waist. You press your backside against his pelvis and his hips follow, grinding in the motions of your own.
You stretch upward as high behind you as you can, sinking your fingers into Hunter’s thick black curls. Just to sell it, you showmanly lean your head back against Hunter’s shoulder and whisper sweet nothings in his ear when he leans down into you.
You glance up at your petulant victim to see Jake roll his eyes and throw his head back in a deriding chuckle before he slams down the rest of his pint. Jake is most certainly under your spell.
You tell yourself that each song with Hunter is the last dance until you’re unsure how many have passed. Any concept of time you own is completely suspended in the delicious way Jake looks when he is hungry to devour what he can’t have, and in this moment it happens to be you.
Abruptly, you feel yourself being swept towards the nearest wall and your face being tilted up towards Hunter’s as he cranes his mouth down to meet yours.
It is nice. Pleasurable for sure. He is definitely a good kisser, but again all you can bring yourself to think of is Jake’s perfectly pink pouty lips pressed against yours.
There is no point in tormenting Jake if you are just as miserable.
As you are about to break away from the stale kiss, Hunter’s weight that is pinning you up against the wall unexpectedly falters, sending you fumbling to the floor. You attempt to regain your balance but the room is slightly spinning, a likely side effect from the alcohol in your bloodstream. You might have questioned it having only had a drink or two if your focus wasn’t currently employed by figuring your way back to vertical.
A hand makes its way into your line of sight, offering to help you up. You swat away the aid, recognizing it as Jake’s. He huffs and shakes his head vexed. Jake brings himself closer to the whirling stack of bones that you are on the floor and tenaciously claps his rangy hands around your waist; making a show to assign his fingers in the exact arrangement where Hunter’s had just been. He devoutly springs you to your feet as if you'd rehearsed the move. As soon as you gain your footing you step back from Jake and dust yourself off, despite landing on a clean floor.
You inspect your crumbs of clues; the boys glaring at each other and at the brink of verbal warfare. You arrive at the conclusion that a fuming Jake had let all restraint dissipate as he shoved Hunter off of you in his impulsive fit.
“Why don’t you go find some other victim to slam into a wall,” Jake snarls, “she’s had enough for tonight.”
“She didn’t seem to have a problem when she was dancing all over me,” Hunter shoots back genuinely confused, “are you supposed to be her boyfriend or something?”
You race to interject, “He is not,” addressing Hunter but then throw your finger in Jake’s face, “and you have no right-”
Hunter takes one big territorial step to cleat himself between you and your oppressor. An exasperated Jake scowls at your fictitious defender and back to you, his features melting into a sickened sight as if to ask if you are really going to allow him to be vilified as the threat.
Of course protection from Jake is the last thing you will ever need. He could say whatever he’d like but Jake will never lay a harmful finger to you.
However, the hunt makes the game. You subtly shrug at Jake and let the mens’ egos carry out your dirty work.
Hunter sets his fist on Jake’s sternum in an attempt to get him to step back, “Mate, she doesn’t seem to be into it so why don’t you give us some space.”
This is the trigger that detonates the antagonized man just in front of your human shield.
“Oh trust me, mate,” he mimics Hunter in an explosion, the shrapnel riding your blood to your cheeks, “when I say I happen to know what the little slut is into and it is definitely not-” Jake is cut off by a panicky Josh now stepping in between the two before Jake can say anything he can’t take back.
Josh seems to instruct his detesting brother through glances. You always find it hard to properly digest a situation with the appropriate amount of severity when the twins begin conversing with mere facial expressions.
It only lasts for a second or two before Jake refixes his glare towards Hunter. Mirroring Jake, Josh returns to Hunter with an antsy smile and places a friendly hand on his barely-reachable shoulder, as if he is about to deliver bad news.
“Sorry about him,” he starts to mediate, motioning towards his fuming twin he shrugs and chuckles nervously, “tequila makes him aggressive.”
You almost giggle at Josh’s flamboyant rescue. He is a detail oriented man who is verbally quick on his feet. He usually paints pictures you can not poke holes in. So you know he must be distraught or drunk as you hadn't even seen Jake drink an ounce of liquor since he arrived.
However, Hunter doesn’t seem quite as amused as he slaps Josh's hand off and grunts, “Whatever, I don’t do crazy exes anyway.”
He insincerely waves you off and facetiously blows Jake a kiss in one last satirical jab before sauntering off, dematerializing amongst the crowd.
Jake now recoils from Josh’s touch and waits for him to vanish as well. However, Josh’s sight seeks you and bears a disapproving nod, warning you to behave in a glower. For a split second, you forget he is a twin as his protective demeanor is all that of a vigilant elder sibling.
Nevertheless, Josh makes his way back to where he had been so unnecessarily interrupted and dragged away from Claire.
Your attention gravitates to Jake in daggers. Before you can form any thoughts or strategy, venom goes flying past your lips, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”
Jake swivels his head around, slightly panicking at all the partygoers that had stopped party going to sightsee this freak show. He never likes to be the center of attention unless he has six strings and a fretboard under his fingers.
Nimbly, he leads you by the arm into the nearby bathroom and slams the door shut.
You throw your arms out in confusion, “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”
He fires back, “No, just my patience with you!”
The room is small enough now that his scent circulates and the offensive smell of beer and bourbon attacks your senses; which explains his uncharacteristic boldness.
“Shit, Jake, you smell like a fucking brewery,” you spit out.
He seems to grasp how sloppy he let himself get. Your words siphon a hint of sobriety as he takes a deep breath and now speaks to you with a much more repealed approach.
You can tell he is still upset but is focusing on his convictions for the moment, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean for you to fall like that.” He hesitates, “And I’m sorry- I have no idea why I called you slut- I didn’t mean-”
You are nearly swept away by the sweet breeze of your angelic Jake; the one that trips over his words when he gets excited and loves to take on whimsical personas of his own invention. Jake that is present and kind, even at the end of the night. But just like a fleeting breeze, you easily withstand his charms.
He may have found his composure but you certainly did not, not that you want to, “I’m fine, Jacob! Want to explain whatever the shit that was?!”
Any remorse present in his tone abandons him, “Oh please, you wanted that! I could see it all over your face while you were messing with that prick. I don’t even know why I'm surprised. You’re like a child who throws a fucking fit. The moment I don't do or tell you exactly what you want you go throw yourself into the arms of some random no-good fuck. I knew you were with him as soon as you went radio silent.”
You narrow your eyes at him. You’re almost suspicious of the blank canvas he’s left for you to fill in with logic; he’s usually ten points ahead when debating, never speaking a vulnerable statement for someone to collapse before him. You are almost hesitant to ask the question.
Your hand finds your hip as a means to reinforce your interrogation, “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t own me, Jake! So what if I was dancing with Hunter?”
He rolls his eyes and growls at the mention of his name. If Jake were an ounce more theatrical you swear he would have gagged too.
You cross your arms and lean into the balls of your feet as you sharpen your questions, knowing you have him trapped, “If you knew, why did you even show up then? Why do you even care? It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything?”
He blurts out way too quickly to disguise any aloofness, “I don’t care!”
Jake immediately throws his head back in defeat and groans, crumbling under further rumination of your questions, as if they frustrate him as much as they do you, “I don’t know! You just- It kills me to see you- sometimes- you make me so-”
He is struggling to articulate his thoughts without making himself look like the blatant asshole, but you see right through it.
You, however, have no problem spitting the word out. In fact, it progresses the igneous tension between the two of you into a delicious sweltering burn.
You dangle the word right in front of him just to watch him squirm, “Jealous?”
The accusation furrows his brow and tightens his shoulders.
If you didn’t know any better, his sudden dark tone would have you red with shame for such an accusation, “You think I’m jealous? Trust me, kitten, you haven’t even seen jealousy. Go fuck that guy for all I care.”
You giggle and raise a slanderous eyebrow, soundlessly challenging his overtly bogus defense. Your defiance vacillates Jake back to his munition.
He charges towards you, his footsteps following the alignment of his pointer finger swinging in your direction, “What the fuck are you smiling at- You know what?! Fuck this and fuck you! You always do this. Always getting me into more trouble than I bargain for.”
Jake is growling in fragments now, growing taller with every step he takes drawing in towards you, surrendering to your gravity.
“This isn’t me! I’m not this person who gets jealous and fights with strangers at a party,” he gestures his clenched fists towards you, arms length away now, “And I don’t like being angry with you!”
Jake corners you between the wall and a stall, yet his rushing commute ceases to falter, “And what’s worse is I actually think you enjoy this! You must get off on this! I think you want to see me lose my mind!”
Jake is close enough that you are now confronted by the moles that cradle his right jaw, the charming silver starting to streak from his temples, the sculpt in the cartilage of his prominent nose, and the slight uneven curl of his upper lip. Details no camera could capture and no screaming fan could ever have knowledge of; intimate details one would ever amass without his admission.
If he moves any closer he would have to kiss you. He scolded you for getting worked up off his anger when he was doing the exact same thing. The worst part being you aren’t even sure if he has caught on to this rage-driven gravitation between the two of you. His face reads “Caution, stay away,” but his body is imploring you to take care of him. He is right where you want him, giving you all the power once again.
He resumes waving his finger at you and stiffly pokes your collarbone. He opens his mouth to make another point but his words never deliver themselves. You see his very thoughts dematerialize as he touches your buzzing skin.
He doesn’t even lift his finger from you, just lets it fall to the start of your breasts, making your chest heave. He subconsciously presses his body to yours; so close you catch his erratic breaths on your lips.
You hastily retort while he is distracted, “That’s pretty amusing considering you're the asshole that ruined my night, not the other way around, slut.”
He rakes the pad of his finger still connected to you, up your clavicle till it rests at the top of your outermost prominent neck muscle, delicately wrapping the rest of his digits around your throat once he runs out of room. He sinks further into your orbit so that he is now hovering just above your features.
“Look at you, just begging for someone to put you in your place,” he rasps out, ever so slightly applying a teasing pressure to reduce your air flow.
Collecting yourself enough to stream your words out in a lazy river, you dare taunt the feral man that holds your next breath between his fingers, “Look at you, Jacob, absolutely rabid with jealousy.”
“I’ve had it with your little attitude,” his hand delectably contorts further around your throat in a fit of conniption as he roars through clenched teeth, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t fucking drag me here to make me jealous.”
“Bite me, Jake,” you roll your eyes at his arrogance.
You expect him to snap at you, to reprimand you for your insubordination. However, to your surprise he laps one long stripe from the corner of your pout to the start of your cheekbone. The action expels your nerves into shock; a shudder slithers its way up your spine.
Jake sighs against the shell of your ear, “Is that why you’re being such a little fucking brat? You just want me to bite you, sweetheart? Is that it?”
Your only response is a whimper as a crackling heat awakes between your thighs and your hips grind into Jake on their own accord; giving him the only answer he needs.
Satiated by your feedback, Jake nearly moans at regaining the upper hand, “I swear- and why should I even care, kitten?”
You urgently squeal, struggling against your constricting airway, “Because it’s your fault! I’ve never craved attention until you did this to me!”
Cocking his head to the side to purport the appearance of a disapproving analysis, he mocks your need, “How did we end up like this, beautiful? We are absolutely no good for each other.”
You don’t bother devising a clever response, knowing he’s already decided to give you what you want.
He clenches his jaw and runs his tongue along the ridges of his teeth, twisting the pink muscle into the crevices of his molars, “It’s rude to stare, kitten. Do I need to teach you how to use that pretty smart mouth of yours?”
You only bat your eyes at him, your expressionless face waiting for what you know comes next.
He raises an eyebrow at you, impatient for some response and mutters, “Say something.”
A shit-eating grin sneaks its way onto your face, “Don’t forget to lock the door, babyboy.”
Jake’s once kind eyes grow dark to an absolutely immoral shade of lust. Heedlessly, his lips crash against yours, the sensation you’ve fantasized about since the last time his mouth deserted yours. He tastes of bourbon and peaches.
He slips his hands around your ass and hauls you up to straddle his waist. You wrap your legs around him as he staggers towards the door lock as you instructed, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you long enough to complete the task first.
Jake places you on the sink and protestingly pries himself back from you, as if starving for more but looking at you was a vital duty he must perform.
His eyes plot you up and down, infatuated with this strand of you, reserved only for him. You don’t have to say a word for Jake to know what happens when he’s away; the way you move for him confesses everything he is already aware of. He is the only one capable of having you completely and utterly vulnerable and unguarded and unadulterated; animalistically yourself.
For the first time tonight, Jake’s pretty pout draws back in a genuine smile for you; a giddy fool and his favorite fix.
He gracefully reaches to untie your wrap blouse and it falls to your sides, uncurtaining your heaving breasts. He hums in satisfaction of your physique.
Jake lightly places his hands on your knees and observes as his fingers featherly dance upon your thighs, only to stop and squeeze into the thick of them until he leaves white imprints. He curls into you, Jake’s perpetually exposed chest rubbing against your newly bare nipples, extracting a hiss from you.
Your core already weeps with need.
The hungry man burrows his face into your neck but stops right before his lips meet your skin, knowing you desperately need his mouth.
He teases you with a tickling whisper, “Fuck- I missed you. They don’t make girls like you in Nashville.”
The ribbing huff of his breath makes you shudder.
You press your hand against his hip, slide it down the curve of his thigh and inward till you map out his hard length through his pants, “I can see, you poor thing.”
Your movement draws a low growl from him in your ear, “Fuck- You see what you do to me, kitten? You see all the problems you cause me?”
You begin to palm him through his clothes and feign out a bratty whine, “Yes, but we always have such a good time, don’t we Jakey?”
Jake begins to eat at your neck while you continue to caress him until he moves down and out of your reach.
He plots out your clavicle, licking down your sternum through the valley of your peaking breasts; delaying his journey to lap one of your nipples into his warm salacious mouth as he gropes the other in his lanky hand. A few mumbled swears fall from you as Jake begins to venture in biting and sucking marks into the supple flesh of your breasts, soothing each spot with candied kisses afterwards.
“Shit- just when I thought these perfect tits couldn’t get any prettier. An absolutely breathtaking sight with my bitemarks,” he pants.
Jake’s mouth resumes its migration south to your goosebump ridden thighs. He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your ass, resting his elbows against the corners of the sink for balance as he lowers the rest of his body to accommodate the angle of your glistening center.
His mouth now takes purchase of where his fingertips had just deserted your thighs, kissing away the residual sting; closer and closer to your entrance till his head vanishes, canopied in between your skirt and legs. You feel the heat of his huffing through the lace of your panties. The sensation alone is enough to make you whine with need. Jake then bites into the material of your damp thong, sampling your arousal as he tugs your underwear to the side using his teeth. Jake plants his lips to yours in a row of delicate kisses, making you quiver with anticipation.
“Wider,” he growls out the demand.
You lean back to let your bare shoulder blades rest against the ice cold mirror behind you in order to grant him better access to your wetness. Jake is entranced as he gapes at how the chill glass spells you to hiss and clench around nothing.
He takes a deep inhale of you and slots the tip of his nose against your entrance. In one agonizingly slow movement he reclines his head so that his nose flits over your aching clit as he sticks out the flat of his tongue to follow the lewd trail.
You open your mouth to sing his praises but all that comes out is his name in a hiccuping squeak.
He then wraps his ample lips around your throbbing clit and nimbly sucks it into the warm plush of his mouth, swirling his velvety tongue around your bud.
The deed elicits a piteous wail to escape you and the confiscation of any remaining control over your restless limbs. Your hips involuntarily swing forward, seeking more of his mouth.
He rewards you with a swift smack against your thigh, “Easy,” he begins to plant light kisses on your entrance, “needy little thing today, aren’t you?”
Having not fully removed his mouth from you, the vibrations of his teasing words sends unexpected ripples of titillation humming through you, instigating your reeling squirms further, “Relax, kitten. I know how to take care of you. I know what you need.”
He finally unlatches his other hand from your ass. You hadn’t even registered the delicious sting of his fingers over the imperious pleasure of his mouth; a pain promising to blossom into pretty hues of purples, blues, and greens.
He delineates the curve of your thigh with his fingertips, finally fluttering over your entrance. Impatiently, he hikes your skirt up to bunch at your waist. He savagely yanks your lace underwear down and over your ankles, not even bothering to wait for you to adjust to help slip the material off. He looks to you with a seemingly innocent goofy grin as he pockets his newly pillaged treasure.
You roll your eyes and press your lips together to stifle your obvious giggle. In a feigned offense, Jake snatches your ankles in his grasp to reestablish his authority and your attention. Slowly, he lifts your legs to settle your thighs around his shoulders, careful not to throw off your balance on the porcelain counter.
You lock your ankles around him as his hands pet up your legs and wrap around your thighs to bore into your flesh. Jake reintroduces his mouth to your soaking entrance, sloppily devouring your nectar.
Though pleasing, you know he is holding out on you. Jake loves to hear you beg; for you to pray for what you know he can’t help but give you.
“Jake, more,” you demand despite knowing it will land void.
He immediately ceases his feed and arrogantly reminds you of your place, “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders now, are you kitten?”
Mourning the loss of his mouth, you choke on a sob, “No, Jake!”
He tenderly begins to brush his digits along your skin, “That’s right, but I happen to know that pretty mouth sings a lot lovelier than she barks.”
He moves one of his thumbs to circle over your swollen clit as incentive, making his compulsion undeniable.
You desperately pant out your pleas, “Please- Shit- Please, Jake. I need- Jake- Fuck- fingers?”
“Sorry, baby, you’re not making any sense,” he terrorizes you now, stretching a free digit from your bud to tease your entrance.
You manage to piece together your needs enough to satisfy him, “Jake- please, I need your fingers- need them inside me- I need to soak them- please, baby?”
Your scandalous words draw a sweet moan from him. The vivacious grant of your request tells you he can’t stand to make you wait any longer.
He begins pumping his middle and ring finger inside you, making you mewl his name.
He once again envelopes your clit in his lips and begins to suck and lap you towards ecstasy. You feel the euphoric tension strain your abdomen as Jake curls his fingers around the spot he always seems to effortlessly discover.
“Fuck- Jake don’t stop- please- please don’t stop,” your voice reaches the high pitch only he brings it to.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, you sound too pretty with my fingers inside you to deny,” he coos against your sensitive clit.
Jake’s lustful praises send you into an orgasmic haze as your walls squeeze around his fingers and back arches away from the mirror.
As he feels you getting close, Jake begins to coach you, “Relax for me, beautiful. Can you relax that pretty pussy for me?”
You inventory only enough coherency to wantonly moan, indicating your process of his demand.
“Good girl, that's it. Just breathe and take it,” his praises coerce you into obedience.
Even though every endorphin in your body is imploring you to writhe at Jake’s touch, you do your best to relax and breathe as he ordered. You relent to Jake’s fingers, allowing him to caress into a new spot, a fresh wave of sensitivity finding you.
He knows he’s found the place as soon as you squeal his name in response. He begins to violently fuck deep into you with his hand, pumping in and out of you, his fingertips catching his new target every time, catapulting you into your orgasm. You're consumed by white heat as you soar through your ecstasy.
You’ve cleared through your orgasm yet oddly the tension in your abdomen is not alleviated but is now twice as constricting.
Jake never ceases to send his fingers in and out of you at a furious pace and the pressure that builds is of a different class, requiring your whole body to participate in your release. Where he was once babying his mark, he is now assaulting it; his digits curling into you with every pump. The sloppy sounds of Jake finger fucking you grows louder with every stroke.
His lips swallow your clit, slurping you into his mouth for safekeeping, sending you into overdrive as you approach this new release. Your pussy begins to convulse and contract around Jake but he drives into you faster still.
“That’s it, babygirl, cum for me. I’ve missed having you on my tongue,” his words barely make their way into your consciousness.
Your vision begins to black out as your eyes roll back and your slick sprays his face and coats his hands.
Yet, Jake refuses to cease his assault. Your climax builds within you so tight, it rips its way out of you. Your cunt expels a deluge of liquids and continues to pour into Jake’s hand with every dizzying clench of your cunt. Again. Again. And again. Until you are downpour, trickling past his wrist and onto the tile floor.
“Fucking shit- Jacob- don’t stop- I can’t- I’m still cumming- Ja- Baby- Jacob,” your voice melodically crashes and breaks against waves of rasping screams and swearing whimpers louder still, floating off somewhere in oblivion.
Jake thinks it's the most beautiful you’ve ever sounded. Your body finally gives, and you collapse back against the mirror behind the sink. After a few seconds you peek your eyes open to see the mess you made.
He pulls away from you to stand once again and observes his glistening hand in a gaping awe, unphased by your cum dripping down his chin.
“I love when you do that,” he mutters more to himself than you as he slurps your elixir from his own limb.
He isn’t even touching you but the pornagraphic sight reels a moan from you.
“Does my beautiful girl want a taste of her own orgasm?”
He places his fingers along your lips, waiting for your consent. You stick your tongue out and he slides his digits up along the textured muscle until you stifle a slight gag; the veins that decorate his knuckles pressing into your top lip.
He pulls your mouth closer to his with his fingers, slipping them out just before he slides his tongue between your lips; you further taste your glaze as he licks into your mouth.
He impatiently pulls away from you with a hungry groan and scatters to undo his belt. His pants fall to his ankles, his normally hidden curves now visible; a delectable sight you will never grow tired of. His physique is appetizingly curvier than most men and the very view made your dripping pussy flutter without remedy.
Jake catches your ravenous stare and arrogantly quips, “See something you like, kitten?”
Rather than respond, you greedily grab at him and slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You tug him closer along with the material and shimmy it down to liberate his hard painfully pink penis.
“I missed you too,” you run a finger over his leaking tip, causing his head to roll back in a hiss, “and this pretty cock.”
In one swift movement, you quickly gather your remaining arousal on his face in your free hand and reach down to slather his throbbing dick. You lay messy open mouth kisses along his jaw and neck as you now lightly pump him in your hand.
“Fuck- you’re so hot,” Jake rasps out at the loss of composure; his mouth slacks agape as you continue to jerk him off.
You move your hand to flick at his head and his features further melt in bliss.
“Slow down,” he whimpers, ”I want to be dripping down your thighs, not your hand,” his statement demands your submission.
You can tell Jake is unraveling fast as he starts twitching in your fingers. He is close until he obstinately pulls you away from him by the wrist.
You pout out an apology and he relocates your hands around his shoulders, and grabs your waist as he paints your cheek with open mouth kisses. His tongue works a long stripe behind your ear and sucks your lobe into his mouth.
He speaks through teeth clenched around your cartilage, “You always misbehave like such a brat, but underneath it all my girl is just a sweet thing, aren’t you?”
His intimate words alone render you to a din of pitiful mutters and swears.
You feel him begin to press his hard cock into the thick of your thigh, involuntarily pursuing relief, “You just need someone who knows what you are, hmm? Knows what you need?”
You praise and beg as your center is reintroduced to that familiar ache, “Jake, please. You know what I need.”
The sensation of Jake grinding himself against your leg dissolves all restraint. You try to buck your hips towards him in search of what you want most, but he doesn’t let you succeed. Jake arrests your waist to push you further back onto the sink.
He snickers at your cupidity, “What a greedy little slut. Just came a fucking mess and you already want more.”
You stroke his ego with hopes flattery will seduce him, “Yes- I’m a glutton for you, please, Jake?”
You scoot back up to the edge of the sink and grab at him; mad for his touch. Instead, your ambition is requited with a stinging smack to your cunt as he bellows the command, “Sit still! I’m not going to tell you again.”
You can’t help the fearless groan that echoes throughout the small room.
He bitterly miffs, “Yea? Should have thought about that before you were fucking around with that shit for brains?”
“Jake, I’m sorry,” you gravel, growing more impatient by the second that you can’t feel him.
Your insincere words purchase you no spoils as he taunts you further, “Good- You have no idea. I wanted to break his fucking nose wide open! What was his name again, sweet thing?”
Before you can fashion any remark, he yanks you to teeter on the end of the countertop once again. Jake, shaft in hand, drives his throbbing tip just past your lips, and flicks himself against your sensitive clit.
Your knuckles grip white against the corners of the porcelain struggling to remain in place as you whimper gibberish, “Fuck- Jake- I- MMM- fuck-”
“Look at my good sweet girl, so cock drunk she can’t even remember the pawn she was using to make me jealous a few minutes ago,” he smugly croons.
He featherly runs his fingers through the tresses of your hair. As he smooths down your mane you cave into his touch.
“I fucking hated seeing you with him,” his words drip with scorn, “It killed me. You deserve better because you’re my good girl.”
Lining himself up to press into your labia, he docks his forehead against your clavicle to look down at his toying with you. Slightly arching forward, his pink head only just glides past your entrance.
You are teetering over the line of ditzy, Jake’s tantalizing quips being the only tether before you are too far gone, “What a filthy slut? Playing dirty to get Daddy’s attention?”
Any remaining composure flees from you as the name is growled against your skin and you immediately call it back to him, “Shit- I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, fuck me?!”
One hand still residing in your hair, he tugs by the root to guide your ear to his open mouth, “Well you’ve got my attention now, my sweet little fucked out thing.”
Without warning, Jake mercilessly thrusts himself inside you to the hilt. You slap your hand over your mouth to silence the obscene wails tearing through you.
Jake promptly rips your hand away, “Don’t you fucking dare. I want everyone to hear my little cock drunk slut sing.”
Without granting you an opportunity to adjust to his girth, he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to plunge himself all the way back in, driving into that magical spot.
Just as that illustrious need grows in your stomach, Jake pulls out completely. You don’t have the opportunity to protest before he gathers you from off the countertop and twists you around towards your reflection. He gingerly presses his touch into the protruding shape of your shoulder blade, lightly ushering you to lean over the slab of the counter. You surrender to Jake’s decree, not willing to risk your orgasm.
Jake finds your fucked out gaze through the mirror and faintly adjures, “I want you to watch as I fuck you.”
You know better than to mistake his lowly tone for submission. You lean your weight on your elbows as you settle against the sink and raise your head to take in every detail as Jake begins fuck into you from behind.
His pace starts off moderate, but every stroke pierces deep. Your eyes are spellbound by the vision of his pelvic bone slamming into your ass with every harsh swing of his hips.
You do your best to keep your eyes visible as his rhythm picks up, but inevitably your head hangs limp, dizzy from your approaching high. You resign from your efforts once he begins to rock into you faster, burying himself further in your cunt.
You are compensated by a half-lidded Jake forcing your head back up by your chin, “Nah-uh. Look at me, baby.”
You manage to anchor your head where Jake repositioned it, but you are helpless to the way your eyes roll back as he swivels his hips rutting into that sweet spot. Jake grants you exoneration as your walls tighten around his twitching cock, indicating you are close.
Your every muscle trembles as you are abraded by your final orgasm. You're too far gone in your trance. You babble a gibbered language of swears and crying moans as you give into the chemical release.
“Just one more for me, babygirl, you can take it,” he hushes you.
You are strung back from your trip by the stutter of Jake’s hips and hiccuping moans. He is close. You see him tire as he curls around you, his panting grunts tickling your skin.
“Come on, baby,” you root for him despite your own overstimulation, “fuck me full. Want it so bad.”
You are captivated by the reflection of his features contorting under bliss as he fights to keep his hips in motion. You roll your hips to follow Jake’s strokes as his high suspends his stamina.
His eyes roll back as he begins to convulse, his dick jerking inside you. He releases, his lewd moan of absolute venery graces your ears as he empties himself inside you, coating your pulsing walls.
Jake goes limp, briefly taking refuge against your backside as he catches his breath and you come down from your highs together. He lazily litters your skin with kisses wherever his lips can reach.
He sighs against your spine, “Fuck- you’re magnificent. Absolutely electric.”
He wills himself to stand vertical, tugging his pants back in place over his hips before he eases you upright. Assisting you with his steady grip on your pelvis, the steamy skin of his lithe chest sticks to your backside. He wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady as your knees buckle upon landing, pulling you into him once more. He bows his head to warrant his lips to lathe your neck, savoring the salt of your skin.
Far too consumed to break away from his sloppy kisses, he tilts his head as his eyes hunt for the reflection of yours, “But I meant what I said earlier, we’re no good for each other.”
He nibbles his way up and sucks at the muscle of your jaw, “I like you way more than I planned to but there’s no way we can continue like this, babygirl.”
You go numb; the only sensation present being pins and needles pricking your chest. His words spell you dumb, abolishing any sense to speak or move.
He delicately spins you to face him once again and tenderly kisses the tip of your nose.
Jakes slightly pulls back to skillfully tie your blouse back up for you, “Whatever this is, it's got to settle here.”
“Jake- you-,” you breathlessly chase for the tail of your thought that doesn’t seem to exist.
He squeezes your hands in his, “I mean it, kitten, don’t call me anymore. I won’t pick up for you.”
The tender manner in which his lips love on you does not mesh with his condemning words.
He draws back to see tears you aren’t aware are now rolling down your flushed cheeks.
He lets go of one of your hands to cup your jaw and kisses the salty sadness from your features, “Don’t cry, baby, you’re perfect.”
He envelopes your lips between his one last time before he brings your hand still in his grasp to place his pucker against your knuckles and whisper, “Please take care of yourself for me, babygirl.”
You are prisoner to paralyzation as those enticing amber eyes abandon you; rendering you to nothing but shattered forsaken ruins strewn across an empty bathroom, grasping and grappling to purchase any sort of rationale beyond the carnage.
You’re forced to silently choke on consternation at the sight of his chestnut waves bouncing against his shoulders as Jake weightlessly vanishes through the swinging door.
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Last Minute Changes - Jake Kiszka’s Version
A/N: Remember when I said Sam was Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker coded?? Yeah, well… So is Jake, and since we have now experienced so much Ballerina Jake on stage, I just couldn’t help myself. Also disclaimer, I haven’t done ballet in 5+ years now, so please forgive me if I misname anything. Also, if you are not familiar with the Nutcracker pas de deux, I have linked it HERE for you to go watch (I recommend watching it before reading this, if you have the time or even just the desire to!). Please excuse any errors as always, and I hope you all like it! <3
WARNINGS: Excessive language, excessive practicing, some name calling (bitch, asshole, etc), hate!fucking, asshole!Jake, degradation, fingering, edging, slight mirror play, overstimulation, choking, biting, sort of public sex? sex in a studio, unprotected sex.
MASTERLIST
••••
“You two will be excellent together!” You can hear the smile in your choreographer’s voice. At least one of you is excited. “Well, have a lovely day, dear and I will see you back tomorrow to continue rehearsals.”
You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone, immediately sighing to yourself as you toss your phone to the side.
This is just great, you think to yourself.
What are the odds that the original Cavalier would suffer an injury and have to back out and Jake of all people, will be the one stepping in. It’s a serious lose/lose situation for all parties involved.
It has been quite some time since you’ve worked with Jake Kiszka, but to your knowledge he is no different than he used to be. Arrogant, cocky and an absolute asshole. Not to mention, the extensive hours that he chooses to practice are arguably a little unhealthy and excessive. Though, you have to give a nod to the way he strives for perfection. He’s one of the most talented dancers within the Ballet company the two of you work for. It’s admirable in its own sort of fucked up way.
Not that you don’t strive for that same level of perfection, you just have a different view and approach on how to get there.
After a moment or two of sulking, you decide to call Danny. A fellow dancer at your company and one of your best friends - but also a pretty close friend of Jake’s, you’re almost certain.
The phone barely rings twice before an excited Danny is answering the phone.
“Hello?” Danny’s voice finally cuts through, warm and genuine. As it always is.
“Hey! So uhm…” you start to trail off. “You know Anthony, right ? The guy who was originally the Cavalier?”
“I do, why? What happened?” He asks, concern and curiosity seeping into the way he speaks. “You sound kinda upset...”
“Oh, I’m definitely upset… Anthony has an injury and is being required to take a break…” you pause for a moment, before adding more details. “I mean, he seemed to be in some pain when we were practicing last night, but he told me not to worry.” A long sigh pushes out of your lungs. “But, now Jake is Cavalier...”
What you can only assume is slightly stunned silence, takes over his end of the phone.
“Jake…?” He questions finally. You can practically see his raised eyebrows and wide eyes. “Jake is Cavalier now?”
“Yeah…” You confirm, sighing heavily at the incredibly draining thought of it. “Danny, I don’t even know what to do.”
“Are you joking? What do you mean you ‘don’t know what to do?’” Danny practically scoffs at your words. “You’ve always wanted this part. You would really let Jake ruin this for you? That’s kinda ridiculous, bug.” He scolds you. “Not only that, but you’re already well into rehearsals. You’ve only got a few days left before dress rehearsals start up.”
“Danny, Have you not worked with him?!” You laugh humorously into the phone. “He’s an ass. A complete and total fucking ass.”
Danny laughs at your little outburst, immediately taking up for his friend. “I have and… yes, he can be a lot to handle, but he’s a perfectionist. Everything he does on stage has to be perfect, in his mind.”
You bite at your bottom lip, not at all soothed by Danny’s words whatsoever. You’d made up your mind about Jake and that was that.
“You two will be phenomenal together,” Danny says, breaking the moment of silence. “Give it a go. Don’t just throw away your dreams of doing sugar plum just because of this.”
“I’m really not… it’s just… I really don’t wanna have to do that pas de deux with Jake.” His name spits out of you with pure distaste, making Danny laugh lightly. You can imagine the gentle shake of his head, too.
“Like I said… you two will be amazing,” Danny reiterates, tone warm and genuine. “Don’t stress it too much. Just do what you do best and I’m sure everything will be cool.”
<>
The first few days of rehearsing with Jake go… well, anything but smoothly. Things are rocky and feel out of place, some parts of the routine having to be changed to suite you and Jake, instead of you and your original partner, Anthony.
And today’s practice rolls around too quickly, just like the last three days have. You go to bed, only to wake up feeling like you only slept for a solid five minutes, before you have to get up and reconvene with Jake all over again.
For the first time since joining this professional company, it feels like actual work. Not that it isn’t always work, but you’ve not ever felt this genuinely frustrated by the thought of going to the studio.
The door of the building slams closed behind you, finally separating you from the chilly, early December air.
You make your way down the long hallway, towards the room that your instructor had originally assigned for you and Anthony to use for practicing your Pas De Deux, but has now been for you and Jake.
As you reach the door, you can’t hear anything from the other side of it, and you wonder if Jake is even around yet. In all fairness, you are incredibly early. However, you’ve come to know that Jake takes early to a whole new level.
You open up the door to find he’s nowhere to be seen. Though he isn’t present just yet, realization is like a slap across the face, as it has been each day since you’ve started rehearsing with Jake.
It hits you in a brand new wave. Every. Single Day: This is really happening. You are stuck with Jake from now, until the end of the run.
But, there’s never enough time to dwell on what’s already in motion - which you’ve come to realize that it’s probably better off that way. You shove all the thoughts and feelings stirring up, as far back as they will go, placing your bag and coffee down, so you can begin getting ready to warm up.
Unfortunately for you, not nearly enough time passes before the sound of the door handle is beckoning for your attention and Jake is stepping through the doorway.
You turn to face him, a tight lipped smile being the only thing he offers you as he turns around to close the door. So, you return the half-assed smile and go back to putting on your pointe shoes and stretching out.
The more you spend time rehearsing with him, the more you realize that truly, he’s absolutely gorgeous. Quite possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever had the pleasure of dancing with. But, it isn’t really feeling so much like a pleasure to actually be dancing with him.
You swallow down the annoyance already bubbling up, “Do you need to warm-“
“I warmed up already,” Jake cuts you off before you can even finish your question. “I’ve been here for a while working on my variation.”
He places his things down, then makes his way over to you.
The annoyance floods right back in like it never even left, “Alright, then.”
“Let’s work on those new pieces we added.” It comes out as a command, setting your body even more ablaze.
“No need to get all bossy, Jacob.” You bite rather harshly. “That’s what I’m here for. Not to just bullshit around.”
“I wasn’t-“ Jake stops himself short, the two words sounding very defensive and annoyed.
The audacity for HIM to be annoyed.
He sucks in a sharp breath, trying to calm himself. “I wasn’t trying to be commanding.”
“Whatever.” You glare up at him, filling the space between you with even more tension.
“We can just carefully skim through the whole thing, sans the lifts, if you’d like.”
He stares at you with what can only be read as a stunned expression for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and reaching up to roll the sleeves of his shirt.
“Ready?” Jake extends his hand out towards you, while clearly trying his best to release the unwanted tension in his shoulders.
You take his hand and let him guide you, stepping through slowly until you reach the first lift.
“Aaaand we’re skipping this part,” Jake sings in a mumble, moving with you into the next few steps.
You move with him flawlessly through it all, letting him guide you around the floor. It might even feel nice, if it isn’t for the raging distaste you have for him.
The softness of the which he handles you, doesn’t go unnoticed, though. You notice it almost right away and it slips you into a distracted daze, focusing more on the way his face keeps a calm and even expression and his body moves so fluently.
“Shit!” Jake hisses suddenly, quickly followed by a gasp from you as you bump into his body, causing you both to stumble. “Are you even paying attention?! Goddamn.”
“You grabbed my arm wrong.” You lie quickly, smirking internally as you watch pure annoyance start to show itself all over his face at even the suggestion that he’d messed up.
“You’re joking, right?” Jake snaps at you, practically burning holes into your head with his intense stare.
“No, I’m not joking.” You fire back, trying to make your eyes just as cold and harsh as his are, “There’s a lift there, Jacob.”
Any sort of normal, appropriate volume for the space the two of you occupy is suddenly out of the window completely.
“We aren’t even doing the fucking lifts right now!” Jake’s hands fly into the air dramatically.
“Jesus Christ. This is already giving me a fucking headache.” Your fingers rub at your temples and you fight to not raise you voice like Jake just had. “Let’s just start over? We can do the damn lifts this time, if that makes you happier.”
“Just don’t fucking kill yourself.” Jake mumbles, adjusting the bun hanging lowly at the back of his head.
“If something happens to me, it’ll be because you’ve dropped me.” You scoff, emphasizing with an intense eye roll. “And I wouldn’t put that past you.”
For once, you seem to have stunned him into silence for a brief moment.
“Are you not capable of just fucking practicing?” Jake questions, dropping his arms down to his sides, his shoulders slumping. “Or is it always just going to be a bitching contest?” He takes a step closer to you, pointing and finger at your face. “Because if so, I fucking quit. They can find you a new partner.”
There’s barely a beat of crippling silence before he’s adding on, “And good luck getting your shit together with him before dress rehearsal in three days.”
Your jaw drops as shock washes over you. The first instinct of your body is to simply just reach up and smack him, however, it’s not worth the consequences that will surely follow such an action.
Getting down on the floor, you start frantically untying your pointe shoes.
“What are you doing?” Jake’s volume is still a little too loud for a place of work. “Get up.”
“I have a fucking better idea-“ You pull both pointe shoes off quickly and stand back up. “Find yourself a new partner, dick.”
With that, you storm over to your bag and drop your pointe shoes inside. You grab your regular shoes and your bag, not even turning back to look at him as you make your way to the door.
So much force is put behind your movements as you jerk the door open and slam it closed as you leave.
“Woah, there, hot stuff…” Josh greets you, with an air of caution to his tone. “What’s got you so pissed off?”
“Your twin.” You respond flatly. No emotion for him to gauge in your tone whatsoever as you continue storming down the hallway.
“Right, right… Cause he got…” he sighs, trailing off.
“Yeah…”
“How about we go take a little break?” Josh suggests as he catches up with you, stopping you in your tracks. “I was about to go grab some coffee on my way home, but you can come along and i’ll just bring you back here after?”
Though, you aren’t sure if you’ll even want to come back yet, you give him a slight nod, and that’s all he needs before his arm is motioning for you to follow him.
The two of you walk to his car in silence for a minute, until you’re both inside and buckled in.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Josh asks as he starts his car.
A strained sigh forces its way out of your lungs.
“I mean…He’s just…” you pause, trying to word yourself carefully as you don’t want to disrespect Josh by talking so harshly about his brother.
But Josh beats you to the proper words you’re searching so hard for. “Hard to work with?”
You hold back the scoff that bubbles up in your throat. “Yeah… Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
Much to your surprise, a genuine giggle leaves Josh’s lips as he drives through the little bit of lunch hour traffic lingering on the streets of the city.
“You don’t have to sugar coat it, love,” he assures you, flashing you a quick smile. “I know he can be a bit… mm…difficult.”
“He acts like I’m not also just as much of a perfectionist! I don’t get it!” Your hands gesture up for emphasis, slamming back down into your lap with a soft smack. “I felt like I was having to walk on egg shells earlier.”
“I wish I could sit here and tell you that things will get better, but…” Josh trails off, running his hand over his face. “This part is stressing him out. He never expected to be doing it… I know he doesn’t want to fuck it up. Now, that doesn’t excuse his actions, but just…give him some time. He will loosen up eventually. Hopefully…”
Despite Josh’s words being true, you don’t feel as though they’ve really soothed you very much, if at all.
“You haven’t danced with him in a really long time, either and you dance differently now. I mean that in a good way, but Jake is also having to learn how you work now, on top of everything on his end.” Josh adds, having sensed the uncertainty still lingering on your face.
“I’m not going to lie to you… I’ve been fucking up, too.” You tell him honestly. “Like our routine.”
Josh looks over at you, clearly surprised. “You? You’ve been fucking up?” He questions. “How? I watched you and Anthony do it just last week and it was beautiful!”
“I… I don’t know. I guess Jake just… makes me nervous?” You admit.
Josh turns his face towards the window, trying to hide the grin tugging at his lips until he can collect himself.
But before Josh even has the chance to formulate a response to that, you’re asking him the question that’s been burning your brain since you left the studio.
“Do you think he’ll still be there when we get back?” You ask him softly. The fear of having to go to your director and explain such an outburst between you and Jake, settling deep within your bones. Or worse, Jake has already gone to someone and explained the situation, ultimately kicking you from your role.
“I can assure you, he’ll be there when we get back.” Josh answers seriously. “He isn’t going anywhere.
The conversation about Jake drops for the remainder of your little adventure. Until you’re watching the studio slowly come back into your line of sight, as Josh drives the two of you back.
“What if he’s still mad?” You can’t help but bring the situation back to the surface.
Josh’s shoulders slump slightly, and he seems to be thinking about the best way to answer you. Because the sickening truth is, even he knows that Jake is probably still boiling below the surface, just waiting for another fuck up from you, or anyone else, to send him exploding all over again.
“Just… Don’t go back in guns blazing…” He tells you, trying to choose his words carefully. “Try to be level headed and just get as much practice in as you can. The more you dance, the less room you leave for talking…or an argument. Ya know, whichever... And hopefully, the nerves will ease up little by little, then he won’t have anything to be a shithead over.”
“Right. Because that really worked earlier.” You finally let the scoff you’ve been choking back slip out. “I’ll try again, anyway. Thank you, Josh.”
“Anytime, love. Anytime.” He waves you off with a smile as you close the door and head back inside.
“Hey!”
Just before you step inside, you hear Josh calling for you and you turn around to face him.
“If you need me to come back and beat his ass, just call!”
Your head falls back as a genuine laugh explodes from your lungs. The most you’ve laughed all day, really, and it feels lovely.
Shaking your head, it’s your turn to wave him off, trying to get inside before the cold starts to make your bones ache any more than it already has.
It’s quiet, as you’re reaching the later hours of the afternoon, daylight just barely lingering still.
You make your way down the hall, back to the dreaded, mirrored, room that you and Jake have to continue to share. Assuming he’s still here… or he hasn’t had you replaced and you just don’t know it yet.
When you reach the door, you can hear the familiar song playing from the other side. The doorknob is freezing cold beneath your hand, a drastic contrast to the heat of anger still somehow lingering in your body. Shoving it open slowly, careful not to disturb who you can only assume is Jake, you peak your head in first to see him practicing all on his own.
His movements are flawless. Each step he takes and every movement of his arms, so precise and strong. The white tights he’s wearing accentuate the muscles running throughout his legs, his black t-shirt hugging his shoulders just so. He holds himself with utmost confidence, his eyes never casting themselves to the floor, looking out into an imaginary audience, or at an imaginary partner, when his attention is meant to be focused on her.
Suddenly, you become very aware that you wish to be the one under that gentle, but attentive gaze of his - completely unlike the way he had looked at you earlier. While you may be his partner, he won’t ever look at you that way -gentle and attentive- until he’s on stage and even then, it likely won’t feel real. It will be nothing but acting. It stings, but you shove the sour feeling deep down inside you and step fully back into the room.
“Can you turn the music off for a second?” You ask him, trying to keep a cool and collected tone.
The sound of annoyance Jake lets out doesn’t miss your ears, despite the music still playing.
He walks over and pauses the music, turning to you with an expectant look - just waiting for you to have a damn good reason for essentially asking him to stop what he had been doing. As if the two of you don’t have a lot more work to do.
“I’m…sorry for earlier.” The words are a bit strained as they leave you. What’s to be expected, though? You don’t really want to apologize to him, but you know it’s the right thing to do.
“It’s alright.” Jake mutters, barely nodding his head in acknowledgement to your apology. “I’m sorry, too. Let’s just get back to it, yeah?”
You’re stunned for a moment by his returned apology, having not expected him to give you one at all. Although, you can’t bring yourself to open space for any hope that things are maybe going to get better from here. That’s something you won’t believe until you see it happening consistently. Besides, there’s still an obvious hint of something unpleasant in his tone.
“Yeah, okay…” you agree, sitting your things down. “If you want, we can just work on the lifts for a while… ya know, just for a change of pace.”
The air in the room seems thick with awkwardness, of which you’re not helping to aid at all, being that your tone is rapidly fueling it and Jake without a doubt takes notice of that.
Though, he continues to act completely immune to the awkwardness filling the space. Leaving you to suffer in it all on your own.
After only offering you but a short and flat, “Sure,” you and Jake move on to the lifts. Of which go smoothly… Until they don’t.
“Fucking-“ Jake grunts, arms wobbling slightly as you struggle to find your balance in his hands. “Shit!”
No sooner than the curse of annoyance and distress rumbles out of him, you’re plummeting almost to the ground, Jake’s arms catching you just in time to save you from completely hitting the floor.
“God damnit,” Jake sighs, running a hand over his face once you are standing on your own two feet again.
“This one is just… I can’t get my balance right.” You admit to him. At least you’re being truthful.
You aren’t really sure why you’re having so much trouble. You had done these exact same lifts just fine with Anthony for weeks before Jake even became Cavalier.
Perhaps it was the tension between you and Jake. The mutual, very strong dislike for one another. The lingering bit of hostility from your’s and Jake’s outburst, not even two whole hours ago…
Or his hands on my body… Wait-
You’re quick to interject on your own thoughts. You simply cannot stand the idea of letting your mind wander off with such thoughts about Jake. You refuse to feel that way.
“I see that.” Jake’s words are once again dripping with that same amount of aggravation from earlier - Of which had lead to you storming out on him.
He throws a judgmental glance your way, likely wondering how you even got sugar plum in the first place.
“Let’s try again.” Jake steps behind you, placing his hands on your body just so, adjusting his stance as he prepares to lift you up into the air. Hopefully with more elegance and grace than the first time. “I’m going to count to three, and then you jump.”
You think you’re taking advantage of the fact that he can’t see your face, rolling your eyes at his commanding tone. Much to your misfortune, you seem to have briefly forgotten that you’re both facing a wall, perfectly lined with large mirrors.
“Can you drop the fucking attitude, for god’s sake?” Jake snaps in question, his hands squeezing where they’re planted just above your hips.
If looks could kill, the glare you send him through the mirror would have surely taken him out cold. “How bold of you to point fingers on someone’s attitude. I’m not the only one with an apparent attitude problem here.”
“I’m sorry? In case you haven’t noticed, you are the reason i’m irritated.” Jake is slowly starting to seethe again. You can tell by the way his jaw has clenched itself painfully tight.
You ignore his comment, just staring at him blankly for a moment before finally speaking up.
“Just…count to three. And lift me.” You enunciate your words firmly, sucking in a deep breath in attempts to prepare yourself.
Jake on the other hand, releases a long breath, rolling his shoulders back in hopes to relax his body, at least a little bit. “Fine, then.”
“One…” He begins to count, checking his grip on your waist. “Two…Three.”
The second he speaks the last number, you’re jumping just enough for him to gain the leverage needed to lift you up into the air above his head.
“Good. Good!” Jake praises from below you, watching you attentively through the mirror.
“Tighten your core just a little more,” He tells you, lowering you slightly as you start to wobble a bit. “Yeah, there you go.” He lifts you back up where you’re supposed to be. “Now, hold it.”
You extend your arms out, focusing solely on holding your pose. There’s still the slightest shake to your position, but you hold it pretty successfully, despite that.
“There it is.” The prideful tone of Jake’s voice makes you smile internally, though you’d spend your last drops of energy on keeping said smile off of your face for him to physically see.
“Okay, I’m gonna bring you down now…”
Jake slowly lowers you back down and you hold your next position until you feel your pointe shoe touch the hard floor.
“Thank fuck,” you sigh, relieved that it was somewhat smooth.
Of course, Jake can’t let the slightest little fuck up slide.
‘Everything has to be perfect, at least in his mind.’
“It was still shaky as hell.” Jake complains, giving a dramatic gesture with his hand.
You suck in a quick, sharp breath. The anger resurfacing is nearly blinding, clouding your vision in a red hue that you can’t hardly believe is really there.
“How do you suppose I fix that, then? Hm?” Your voice drips with a venom that’s so unlike you, normally.
“You practice more.” Jake says, as if it’s the most obvious fucking thing. Like you should have already known that.
“Wow. What prophetic fucking advice, Jake. I appreciate it,” you scoff, crossing your arms like a pouting child.
“Since you obviously don’t think you need it, let’s run it, then. Start to finish.” Jake suggests, knowing good and well he just wants to try and prove a point.
With a cool shrug of your shoulders, you agree. “Fine.”
Jake saunters over to his phone, where it lays right by the speaker sitting on one of the chairs, and presses play.
The familiar and oh-so beautiful orchestration starts to fill the room - it brings butterflies of realization to life in your stomach. This is your dream role and while you may be doing it with the absolute last person you would have ever picked on your own, you know in the end, once the two of you work out the kinks of your mutual dislike, you will be a flawless pair.
You take your first few steps that lead you to Jake, where you finally come to meet in the middle and delicately, you lay your hand atop of his palm. His fingers close carefully around your hand, then, lifting your arm above the two of you to slowly spin you around.
There seems to by a shift in the energy within the room and between the two of you, and it’s most certainly a welcomed shift.
As you continue through the routine, the new found comfort of dancing with him slowly overtakes you. Unfortunately, the burning sensation his hands leave in their wake as they help guide you, is making it harder and harder to focus. And of course, that only makes frustration bubble within you.
*Why can’t I dance with him? Why does he have to affect me so much? I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me.
Questions upon questions bounce around in your mind, inevitably distracting you from the important task at hand. It’s dangerous waters to swim in, the closer you get to the crescendo of the song; running the risk of one of you getting hurt somehow by lack of focus.
Focus. Focus. Focus.
You internally chant the word to yourself, desperately trying your best to pull your mind back to one collective place.
“Come back to me.” Jake’s tone is firm but not angry, as he prepares to bring you into the first lift.
Here goes nothing.
Forcing your brain to remain solely honed in on the task at hand, Jake’s hands find your waist and in the blink of an eye, he’s hoisting you into the air, much smoother and more elegantly than the first time.
And by some complete miracle, the first few lifts go flawlessly. Jake even finds it in himself to give a few mumbles of praise and encouragement as you go.
That confidence and momentum doesn’t carry through nearly as long as you hoped it would, though.
As the music builds and builds up to the first of what you would consider the “big” lifts, your heart rate increases. Suddenly your hands are clammy and a little shaky, and your stomach has twisted itself into a sickening knot.
Jake’s so into it, that you can’t bare the idea of asking him to stop, simply because your nerves have taken over. So, you continue into the lift, against your better judgement.
You make it into the air without much trouble, but as Jake brings you down into the next move, your form breaks and causes him to nearly drop you.
“Goddamn it!”
“Oh, my god!”
Both of your exclamations and curses fly out at the same time, only startling each other even more.
“Jesus christ, I knew you weren’t ready for that!” Jake shouts, hands running over his face as the adrenaline and realization of how hurt you could have just gotten, pumps through his entire body. “Do you even realize how fucking hurt you could have gotten just now?!”
“I am ready!” You argue right back, completely ignoring the hint of concern he was displaying for you.
“No, you are fucking not!” Jake’s voice booms, like a bang of thunder that shakes houses, after lightning has struck something. “We wouldn’t be having so much goddamn trouble if you were!”
“I didn’t have all these problems with Anthony,” you point out, matching his unruly volume. You even dare to take a step closer to him.
“What’s the difference?!” He practically screams, taking a step equal to the one you’d just taken. “We’re doing the same routine, for the same show! What. Is. The difference?!”
“Because you’re, you!” Your arms fly up into the air, before smacking back down against your sides.
Jake tilts his head back almost challengingly. “I’m what?”
“You’re the favorite! The one Everyone wants to have the fucking pleasure of dancing with!” You emphasize your words dramatically as you yell nearly right in his face. “You never fuck up anything! Ever!”
“And does that make you jealous?” Jake questions, his tone becoming smug and arrogant.
“No, it doesn’t make me jealous! It makes me nervous!”
Though half of the sentence is a lie; it definitely makes you both jealous and nervous, as soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to snatch them out of the air and shove them back in.
“Really?” Jake raises his eyebrows at you. “Nervous, huh?”
“Yes! Nervous, you fucking asshole!” You yell. “You’re arrogant as all hell and it’s absolutely insufferable, in case anyone hasn’t told you! It’s a nightmare trying to work with someone who is constantly picking apart every little move you make!”
“First of all-“ Jake wraps his hand around your pointed finger and shoves it roughly out of his face. “-Get your finger out of my damn face. And stop fucking yelling at me.” His eyes burn through yours, knocking you down a notch, but you refuse to outwardly show it. “Second, you shouldn’t be talking. You get everything handed to you, like the perfect, pretty little thing you are. You hardly have to work for shit.”
You snatch your finger out of his grip and immediately fire back at him. “I don’t get anything fucking handed to me.”
“But you do!” Jake chides, hardly making a legitimate point.
“No, YOU DO, Jake!” And now you’re back to screaming, throat threatening to go raw by the strain you’re putting on it. “How do you think we got here in the first fucking place!”
“If I got everything handed to me, don’t you think I would have had this from the beginning?!” Jake nearly closes the little space between the two of you, with one more step. “Don’t you think I would have gotten it first, instead of Anthony?!”
A wicked smirk grows on your face. “Right, right. So you’re just their backup, huh?” You watch as Jake’s face grows red and his eyes flash with rage. “Not even good enough to be cast as Cavalier the first time, are you?”
“You should be concerned about the fact that we start dress rehearsals in two days and you can’t even get all the damn lifts right.” Jake jabs.
His close proximity is making it hard to think anymore, the features of his beautiful, anger-hardened face proving to be a major distraction from the comeback you should have been already able to conjure up.
“Well, they- their hopes can’t be but so high, now that they’ve had to settle for you.”
Jake’s jaw visibly tenses, causing the muscles to protrude around his cheekbones and down his neck, the crease between his brows setting in even deeper.
Before you can even bat an eye, or open your mouth to add a little more gasoline to the already raging fire, Jake’s hand is tightly wrapping itself around the back of your neck.
“Is this entertaining you?” You can see Jake’s free hand gesture about, through your peripheral vision. “Being a little bitch?”
You’re frozen, stuck in place - not only because of his grip on you, but because you can’t decide if you actually want to move away.
One might find that name absolutely enraging, but apparently you don’t, considering the way your cunt throbs as the word travels from his mouth, to your ears.
“Fuck you.” You spit through gritted teeth.
“Would that make you less bitchy? If you fucked me? Hm?” Jake taunts, clearly taking in the newfound enjoyment he’s getting out of this.
“Call me a bitch again.” You say threateningly, but it holds no real weight. You just want to keep up the fight a little longer, perhaps a bit too addicted to the way he’s making your blood boil.
“Or what?” Jake all but growls, leaning his face in, so that he’s right next to your ear. “Are you gonna storm out of here like earlier? Like the little fucking brat you are?”
Your skin is screaming to feel his lips. They’re mere inches from your skin, the heat of his breath casting a heat that almost resembles when you sit just a little too close to a campfire.
“I bet you’d perform a lot better if I fucked you.” Jake speaks the wondering thought out loud. “Trained you to be a good little dancer for me.”
“Jake…” you sigh, chest heaving rapidly.
“What?” Jake seethes. “No smart ass comeback? No attitude?” He slides his other arm around your back, but doesn’t pull you quite close enough for your body to touch his. “Come on. Say something else. I dare you.”
Your thoughts spin around themselves as you attempt to conjure up another snarky comment, while Jake’s eyes stare intensely into yours, occasionally flickering down to your lips and right back up.
Finally, it comes to you.
“I’m not taking insults from a boy who probably can’t even fuck me hard enough to keep me out of rehearsal tomorrow.”
The silence that falls between you and Jake is deafening. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, hear the blood running hot beneath your skin. If you listen close enough, you might even hear Jake’s heartbeat banging against his own ribcage, too.
Neither of you move for what feels like an eternity, only adding to the tension that’s already about to burst at the seams.
Jake’s mouth opens and closes quickly, but he still doesn’t speak - only adding to the torment of the moment. Anticipation fills you up so much, you feel like you may start throwing it up.
Slowly, Jake’s eyes narrow until they’re practically shut, and his hand tightens around the back of your neck tightens.
“Are you challenging me, sugar?” The name typically used for endearment, spits out of him like it’s anything but sweet. He’s so cleverly alluding to your role as sugar plum.
“I-If that’s how you wanna see it, go ahead.” You half choke out. Your words are becoming less and less intimidating and lethal as the moments go by. “Since you want to try and prove a point soo badly.”
“I don’t think you deserve anything else from me today.” Jake says, not even bothering to fight off the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
Shock fills you up the second the words float out from his mouth and you’re even more shocked at the way disappointment comes along to mix in with it. You may have been annoyed with him for petty shit before, but now you’re genuinely upset.
“W-what…?” The word is barely audible coming from your breathless lungs.
Jake lets go of you and steps away, taking little steps backwards in the direction of his things. The expression adorning his face is downright evil.
“I think you heard me loud and clear.” Jake shrugs, grabbing up his things. He doesn’t even bother to take off his shoes - likely just leaving you to go off to a different room and practice alone.
You watch him, completely dumbfounded as he makes his way to the door, not even giving you glance as he goes by.
The door opening feels so obnoxious, given the newfound silence hanging between the two of you. He’s about to step over the threshold, but turns around to face you one more time.
“See you tomorrow.” He glances over you for a moment, tongue visibly poking the inside of his cheek. “And you better not fuck up.”
<>
After a horrendous night filled with constant tossing and turning, the cool light of the gloomy morning wakes you up out of the sleep, that has only just found you a few hours ago.
Begrudgingly, you force yourself to get out of bed and take a shower, then dig out a pair of tights and one of your favorite leotards. And as much as you don’t want to acknowledge it, the brief question of whether or not Jake will like it, plants itself in your head. It’s black, with long sleeves, and the daintiest lace details at the top around the chest.
You force the thought away immediately. The mere mental thought of Jake making your body tense with anger, and… whatever the hell is left lingering from last night’s little… moment.
The drive to the studio is severely uneventful. Music being the only thing to keep you company throughout the short trip over there.
Seems like you’ve been living there these last few days. Which, might not be so bad if Jake wasn’t such a constant thorn in your side.
As the studio comes into view, a lump over nerves nearly makes you choke. Last night’s interesting turn, still at the forefront of your memory, despite your efforts in trying to ignore it.
You grab all your things and make your way to the door, walking as quickly as you possibly could to get out of the cold air. A swift glance around the parking lot as you go, is enough to see that Jake’s car is nowhere to be seen.
There’s no denying the relief that washes over you. Perhaps you’ll actually be free of Jake for a little longer than normal, to perfect some things by yourself, without the intense and judgmental stare of Jake’s eyes.
Just as you’ve hoped, as you walk down the hallway to your room, there’s nothing but silence on the other side of the door. But just to be safe, you slowly push it open and peak in, only to confirm that Jake is nowhere to be seen.
You take the opportunity to practice certain pieces of the pas alone, hoping to work through most of the imperfections that Jake has pointed out, time and time again.
What you don’t realize though, is how much time actually passes as you fall into a zone. Completely locked in on what you’re doing, practically floating around as though Jake is there to guide you, except you’re doing it all on your own.
Little did you know, Jake is standing at the door… admiring you just like you had done to him yesterday. For him, it’s different; his moment or slight admiration and ogling. He doesn’t have nearly as much trouble admitting to himself that he finds you ridiculously attractive and talented.
Will he say that directly to you? It isn’t likely, but to himself, he absolutely will. Although, the odds of him telling you his thoughts, are far more likely than you vocalizing your’s to him.
Jake stands, body halfway slipped between the cracked door, intently and quietly watching you. Until finally, you turn and your stop brings you to perfect face the door.
The sudden sight of Jake makes your entire body jolt, startled and unprepared to see him in such a random way.
“Jake!” You half screech, your hand coming to grasp at your now aching chest.
“My bad.” The softest chuckle dances with his words. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine…” you mumble.
Looking at him for the first time since last night is… definitely different, to say the very least.
The air in the room has shifted and it feels so heavy that it may crush you. Given Jake’s cocky strutting across the room, you guess that he doesn’t feel it the way that you do, or he’s doing a really good job at ignoring it. Like he always does. Yet another thing about him that you envy; his ability to be so unaffected.
“You- uhm… How long were you watching from the door?” You ask him timidly, chancing a quick glance at him as he sits down his things.
“Long enough to see that you’re perfectly capable of a flawless and confident routine.” Jake replies, bringing a soft, pink tint to your cheeks. “Which I suppose is great, except you can’t seem to do that with me.” His tone is the slightest bit playful, but you can’t ignore the way it claws at your skin.
“A bit early to be making digs, don’t you think, Jake?” You raise an eyebrow at him, awaiting the death glare he’s sure to throw towards you any second now.
But it doesn’t come. He just ignores your little muse all together, continuing to stretch and warm up.
Silence falls over you both, as you work on a few moves on the opposite side of the room in front of the mirrors.
Occasionally, you glance over your shoulder through the mirror at Jake, but you don’t let your eyes linger on him for too long, in favor of not getting caught and the refusal to let yourself get carried away.
After a few minutes, you catch a glimpse of Jake getting up and setting up his phone with the speakers, before making his way towards you and finally speaking up.
“Ready to run this thing?” He rubs his hands together in front of him.
“As I’ll ever be,” you mumble in response and follow him back over to the middle of the floor.
Jake steps back to his phone and presses play, bringing the beautiful instrumental to life throughout the whole room.
It eases you, much to your surprise. But not enough to ignore the fires that Jake’s hands seem to be lightning, gradually, all over your body in each place that he touches you.
You do your absolute best to try and remain calm and collected, focusing solely on the dance and nothing else.
Further and further you sink into the routine, and so does Jake. It’s evident in the electric energy that’s suddenly buzzing throughout
the room. The way Jake’s eyes stare into yours so intensely, it makes your knees want to give out beneath your weight. The passion of which he’s exuding…
The way he grips your body to lift you up into the air, unintentionally gripping you harder and harder with each passing lift, until you’re certain he’s going to crush you.
You’re not sure what exactly snaps in your brain, but when it snaps, there is no going back.
"Jesus fucking christ- Put me down!" You yell over the music and Jake immediately brings you back down on your own two feet, but not exactly gently.
"Fuck- what now?!” Jake hisses through his labored breathing. “Can you not go two minutes without bitching?!”
"You have a fucking death grip on me!” You grab at his bicep for emphasis. “Are you trying to bruise me!?”
“You should feel so lucky.” Jake spits back, sarcasm mixing with cockiness in his tone.
“Oh, shut the fuck up Jacob!” You screech in his face. “The last thing I want is you leaving any kind of marks on my body.”
“Trust me, princess, I'm not interested anyway." Jake fumes, face red and jaw set tight, nose glistening with the lightest layer of sweat.
“I’m not either!” It feels like a lie, the second it leaves your mouth. But the volume behind your words, masks the way you hardly believe it yourself. “You’re just an arrogant, self centered, asshole, who always has to get his own fucking way with everything!”
“And you're a fucking bitch who never knows when to shut her mouth." Jake practically growls, his face just inches from yours.
"You’re such a piece of shit." You retaliate lowly.
"Back atcha, princess.” Jake grits, the muscles in his cheeks and neck pulsing rapidly.
"Stop. Fucking. Calling me that.” You demand.
"No.” Jake shakes his head, pushing his tongue into his cheek. “No, I don’t think I will.” He adds. "All you ever do is bitch and complain about me doing something wrong and it's so irritating. I know what the hell i I'm doing. I'm a fucking professional. It is not my fault that you're so goddamn picky about every little thing!"
"Well, excuse me for wanting to do this perfectly!” You shout back at him, praying internally that this explosion between the two of you hasn’t drawn any attention outside of the room.
"How ironic.” Jake chuckles humorlessly. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Sugar plum, but you're not even close to it.”
"It would be perfect if you didn't grab me like a caveman!” You chide, feeling the sting of Jake’s words prickling under your skin.
"It would be perfect if you stopped squirming every time i lift you!” Jake argues, throwing his hands into the air.
"Maybe if I fucking trusted you, I wouldn't get nervous when you have me in the air!” You shoot back.
“You know that’s not really why you get shaky when I lift you, but whatever.” Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Maybe aybe if you weren't such a hateful little shit, you'd be able to at least pretend to trust me."
"You. Are insufferable.” You turn to walk away from him, leaving Jake glued to his spot as his brain processes what he’s about to say.
"And you clearly need to be put in your goddamn place." Jake says, stopping you in your tracks.
You turn back around to face him, taking a few little steps forward defiantly. "I fucking dare you to try.”
The challenge spits out of you, and not a bit of you thinks he’ll really see it, considering he had the opportunity last night and trashed it.
"You couldn't handle it.” Jake says simply. His words only raise your anger somehow.
"I hate you.” You seethe, closing in on him with a pointed finger.
"Not nearly as much as I fucking hate you.” He flashes you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen in your life, immediately dropping his face back to his previous, stone cold expression.
The tension hanging in the room is so thick, even a chainsaw would likely struggle to cut it. A deafening silence falls over the two of you, nothing but the sounds of both your heavy breaths to fill it.
Your teeth are so tightly gritted together, you worry they may shatter any second now as you await his next move. Because you certainly are not backing down first, from this eerily silent stand off.
Jake’s face is still sharp and set with anger, not even a glimmer of that chocolaty brown left in his eyes.
Just as you open your mouth to foolishly provoke him even more, he’s lunging for you, roughly gripping either side of your face as his lips sloppily crash into yours. You can’t stop yourself from kissing him back. He tastes intoxicating in the best and worst way. A drug that now that you’ve had just a taste of, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to put it down.
Haphazardly, Jake starts guiding you backwards towards the barre, not even breaking the kiss to make sure that’s where he is going. Like a man about to die of thirst, he drinks in the whimper that you release, as your back collides with the barre. His hands find your wrists, and he shoves them up above your head and pins them there.
“Tell me to stop.” He huffs out through rapid breaths, free hand staying planted on the wall by your arm.
"I thought you were putting me in my place.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Or are you all talk?"
Jake just growls, swiftly reaching down to cup your heat, making you gasp desperately. His foot kicks your legs farther apart, middle and ring fingers stroking over you so lightly, you could scream.
Except you can’t. You’ve been struck with utter speechlessness, thanks to the sudden advance and the merciless ache he’s creating between your legs.
“What? Nothing to say now?” Jake questions tauntingly. “I think this is the longest you've been quiet around me. It’s truly a nice change"
“M-maybe you're just not doing a good enough job," you stutter, pressing yourself into the palm of his hand.
"The way you’re stuttering and the wet spot that I can feel right here, says otherwise.” Jake’s fingers tap against you.
You let out an exhale that is dripping with attitude, but make no move to break away from Jake. And you won’t, really. You both know that at this point.
“Do you get tired?” Jake mumbles, leaning in to ghost his lips over your cheek. They trace around, until he settles on your ear. “Do you get tired of being so defiant? Being a fucking brat and causing me so many stresses? Does it get you off?”
“What if it does?” You answer in a whisper, trying to turn your head towards his, but he isn’t having it.
His hand comes up from between your legs and wraps around your throat, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact.
“Let’s get something clear,” Jake starts lowly, his voice rumbling like nearby thunder as he begins to warn you. “Drop the fucking games, or I’ll make sure to fuck you so hard, you’ll have to fucking crawl your way out of here tonight.”
“I will never give you such satisfaction.” You know you’re about to eat these words, but you can’t find it within your being to care.
Faster than what your brain is capable of processing at this point, Jake is turning you around to face the mirror, leaving you no choice but to grip the barre in front of you.
“Then take it.” Jake says, pressing himself against your ass and wrapping his other hand around your jaw. “Take everything I fucking give you, right here. And when I’m done-“ He uses the grip to turn your head towards the door. “-I can’t wait to watch you limp to that fucking door.”
Jake’s hand abandons your jaw, his fingers hooking themselves around the top of your leotard and pushing it off your shoulders. You help him work it off your body from the front, until it finally falls down around your ankles. As you move to step out of it, he stops you.
“Ah. Don’t.” Jake uses his own leg to halt the movement of your own. “Leave it there.”
You huff, but place your foot back where it was, leaving your leo pooling on the floor around your feet.
Jake’s hands work their way up for your hips, to your shoulders, before his dull nails scratch down your back just enough to make your muscles tense and cover you in goosebumps. He repeats the action one more time, watching your body shiver under his touch in amusement.
“Beg me.” Jake commands, dipping the tips of his fingers into the waistband of your tights.
“What?” You meet his eyes through the mirror, both of you taking notice of the pink tint your cheeks take on.
“I said, Beg. Me.” Jake repeats himself, but not without placing some firmness behind his tone.
“For what?” You spit the question like it’s drenched in poison, though, you know good and well what he’s asking you to beg for.
In a blink, Jake bends down just slightly and yanks your tights down until they’re sitting just around your knees.
“Aren’t you gonna take them off?” You ask him through a scoff.
“I only take off the clothes of good girls,” Jake smirks slyly from behind you. “And you’re most certainly not one of those. Are you?”
You don’t answer him, mostly because you’re hyper focused on the way the air feels cool against your cunt, the slip of your inner thighs from the arousal soaking them and the fact that Jake is the one that has caused it.
A swift smack to your ass pulls you back to him, though.
“Are you?” Jake asks again. You can see his hand drawn back through the mirror, prepared to deliver another blow.
“No,” you finally answer, not nearly loud enough.
Smack.
“Louder.” Jake demands.
“No, I-I’m not.” Your voice cracks as you raise your volume up, hoping it will suit him.
“That’s better.” Jake attaches his lips itno your shoulder, sinking his teeth into the muscles as his fingers unexpectedly slip through your folds.
“Ah, fuck!” You cry, squirming slightly at the pleasurable pain of his teeth biting just enough to leave a bruise, paired with the coolness of his fingers. You’re ever so slowly losing your own game of defiance.
“Aw, do you not like it rough, sugar plum?” Jake asks, feigning sympathy for you as he lets his fingers tease around your dripping heat.
“I- I told you I can take it,” you remind him, but it’s hardly as believable as earlier.
“Yeah?” Jake pulls his hand away from you and smacks it across your hand again, the wetness coating his fingers making it sting just a little more.
“Jake, come on,” you beg, dying for him to pay your throbbing clit some attention, even though it likely won’t be for long.
“Oh, so now she begs…” Jake scoffs, returning his fingers to your core.
Instead of going where he knows you want them the most, he slowly sinks a finger into you, curling it upwards upon hearing your whiny moan. The force at which his finger curls into, sends you lurching forward, damn near hitting your head against the glass of the mirror.
His free hand reaches up to grip at your jaw again, forcing your head up to look at him.
“How’s that feel? Hm?” He asks, voice low and gravely, like it has to travel over rocks before it reaches your ears.
Adding in a finger, the thrusts of his fingers become deeper and the sweet curl into that spot that has your knees buckling, grow harder and more intentional - hitting the same sweet spot over and over and over again.
“Goddamn, Jake…” you moan breathily, eyes fluttering closed.
“Open your fucking eyes and look at me.” Jake commands, emphasizing his words with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers.
How he’s managing to reach these untouched places inside of you, you’ll likely never know, but you don’t really care. You force your eyes open and meet his reflection. Tendrils of his hair have fallen out of his bun, framing his face so perfectly. His eyes are dark and dancing with lust and more emotions that are too entangled to place.
“You feel like you’re about to cum…” Jake observes, pulling his soaked fingers out and wrapping his arm around your waist to reach your aching and horribly neglected bundle of nerves.
The circles he’s drawing over you are quick and tight, enough to throw you into an orgasm and completely wipe your mind blank in the process. It’s almost too much pleasure.
“Not so mouthy now, are you?” Jake snaps, cracking his hand against your cunt, before returning to the dizzying circles.
You open your mouth to smart off, but the second your lips part, the most feral moan you’ve ever heard come from your own lungs, bursts right out of you.
“You’re so much more pleasant to be around when you’re moaning instead of bitching.” Jake comments, leaning in to bite at your shoulder again.
You don’t have much wriggle room this time, as his grip around your neck keeps your firmly in place as he bites all along your neck and shoulder.
“Jake!” You whimper, so close to sounding more like a sob.
You want to jerk away from his far too skilled fingers, but you don’t want to run from the earth-shattering orgasm that he’s steadily dragging you towards.
“Do not cum yet.” Jake says against your skin, but his fingers don’t stop.
“Jake, i-“
“Nope. Don’t fucking cum yet.” Jake says again in a much harsher tone.
He’s pushing you. Seeing just how much you can take, how long you can keep yourself dangling you over that steep edge before you’re crying and pleading with him to stop, because you just can’t hold it anymore.
And you’re not far from that, as hot tears sting the corners of your eyes and the knot in your belly is aching and screaming for release.
“Fuck, I can’t-“ You choke out, gripping the barre so hard that your knuckles are paper white. Even your knees have started to slightly bend, forcing Jake to bend down with you in order to not lose the contact. “I can’t, Jake! Please, just let me!”
“Fuck no.” Jake snaps, bringing his fingers to an agonizing stop before removing them from you completely. “What makes you think you’ve earned it?”
Jake’s hands abandon you and just barely, you catch sight of him pushing his own tights and underwear down to his thighs, fully revealing himself to you, hard and practically soaked with pre cum.
As much as you want to hate every bit of this, you can’t wait have him buried inside of you. The way you imagine it will feel to have him stretching you out, hitting all the perfect places inside of you, is replacing all coherent thoughts in your brain.
“Fuck,” Jake groans, stroking himself a few times. “Goddamn how did you fucking get me like this?”
Reaching forward with his opposite hand to grip your hip tightly, he lines himself up and pushes in to the hilt, his dark eyes intently watching your face contort in pleasure.
“Yeah? You like this?” Jake asks, his words slightly rushed from his own pleasure as he moves in and out of you a few times. “Can’t believe this is all I needed to do to get you to shut your pretty fucking mouth.”
All you can do is moan. You’re far too gone to come up with a good and bratty response to that. Besides, you coming to not mind the way he sounds degrading you. It’s addicting, just like his fingers and cock.
Your chest heaves with anticipation as he continues his slow thrusts. One of his hands ventures up your spine from your hip, stopping to firmly grip your shoulder for more leverage.
“You think your dancing has imperfections now?” Jake growls into your ear, his black t-shirt grazing your bare back. “Just wait until you come in and try to dance tomorrow.”
Jake pulls nearly all the way out of you before slamming himself right back in without warning, setting the most relentless pace possible.
A choked moan rips its way out of you, the pleasure of Jake’s cock pounding into you, shooting through your whole body in debilitating waves.
“Come on, sugar plum,” Jake taunts through labored breaths. “Mouth off some more. M’sure you have plenty to say now, don’t you?”
“F-Fuck you…” You force the two strangled words out through your throat, through an array of moans a high pitched whines.
Using his bruising hold on your hip and shoulder, he brings you back to meet his thrust, driving himself even deeper with each stroke.
You can feel the pleasure shooting down through your legs, all the way down to the tips of your toes - sore and likely blistered from your pointe shoes. The sensations popping up all over your body, make you feel like you’re choking on air - little hiccups of whines and ragged, loud breaths being all that makes it out of you.
Jake’s sounds of pleasure aren’t lost on you, though. The deep grunts and growls, an occasional higher whimper falling in here and there. But god, his voice… the way he talks to you. That, you’re sure, will be what drives you into the life changing high that’s finally starting to rebuild itself within you.
“Oh, my god, Jake…” You croak, wishing you could hold onto him. Sink your nails into his shoulders and run them down his back, or arms. Anything.
“Are you gonna cry for me when you cum? Huh?” Jake asks tauntingly, raising his voice slightly to ensure you hear him over your constant moans. His hand travels from your shoulder down to your cunt, and he begins swirling his fingers over your clit.
You writhe in his hold, forcing him to wrap his other arm around your waist, the palm of his hand splaying over your chest to hold you against him.
“Nuh uh, this is what you fucking wanted, so take it.” Jake growls lowly into your ear, kissing the side of your neck just below it.
It feels too good. Way too good. You’re just waiting for your body to short circuit, as Jake continues to mercilessly pound into you, expertly toying with your clit as he does so.
“Look at yourself,” Jake scoffs, sliding his hand up from your chest to your jaw. “So fucked out and pathetic. You gonna leave looking like this?” His eyes scan over the little bruises littering your shoulders and neck. “Gonna show everyone that their pretty, sweet, sugar plum is just a little whore?”
Words have completely fled from you, as have the loud moans you were emitting before. You’ve dwindled down to nothing but a constantly open mouth, with hoarse and uneven breaths panting out, makeup running and strands of hair falling out of your bun, as your orgasm slowly pulls you under.
“Ja- Jake!” You sob, a deep ache settling low in your stomach. “I- I’m s- I-…”
“Give it up, pretty. Go on…” Jake encourages, his thrusts just barely faltering as you begin fluttering around him. “F- Fucking. Give it to me.”
The orgasm that takes hold of you, nearly ravages you. It’s head-spinning, body numbing. So all consuming that your vision and hearing go out entirely, for what feels like an eternity. Your lungs burn as your body locks in place, until you’re finally able to suck in a gasping breath and release the most pornographic cry into the room. It echos and bounces around, and Jake is quickly committing it to memory.
Faintly, as Jake delivers a few more paralyzing thrusts, you can hear him cursing under his breath. Groaning as he pulls out quickly, removing his hand from around you to work himself through his own high and spilling his release over your lower back.
His fingers have yet to come to a stop over you, even through his orgasm. You frantically grab for his wrist, whining desperately as overstimulation takes you for a dizzying spin.
Barely having regained his composure, Jake turns you around, pressing his body flush against yours as he sinks his fingers into you and uses his thumb to continue working your throbbing bundle of nerves.
“Jake, please! It’s too much, please!” You beg him, more tears prickling the corners of your eyes.
“You’re a tough girl, right?” Jake mocks, kissing your cheek with a wicked smirk on his lips. “You can take one more.”
“Jacob, please!” You beg him again, unsure of how you’re even holding yourself up anymore.
“Hush.” Jake commands, watching you with dark eyes as you start fall back into another high.
Your head falls back against the glass with a soft thud, eyes screwed tightly shut and mouth hanging agape just like before.
“That’s it, sugar plum,” Jake rasps. “You’ll give me one more because I said so. Good girl.”
Those last two little words do you in. It isn’t quite as intense as the first, but it still does you in, nonetheless. Your legs tremble beneath you, the muscles in your stomach clenching as you come undone for him again.
As you come down, Jake carefully withdraws his hand from you - soaked and glistening with your release.
You watch his movements with hooded eyes, as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean of you.
“Like sugar…” He hums with a shit eating grin. “How fitting.”
Bending down, Jake guides your tights back up, followed by your leo - pulling it up just to your chest.
He then takes a step back from you, pulling his own tights back up over his hips, eyes never leaving your face as you watch him in slight, post-orgasm confusion.
“It’s late,” he speaks up calmly, taking slow steps backwards. “I’ll see you back here tomorrow. Same time.”
You watch him in walk away disbelief, as you attempt to follow after him on weak and shaky legs. By the time you reach him, he’s already flinging his back over his shoulder.
He turns towards you, tossing you a little jar without any warning.
Your hands shoot out to catch it just in time to save it from shattering all over the floor and upon a little examination, you read, ‘Epsom Salt’ written across a little sticky note, taped to the side.
“Might wanna soak in a nice little bath tonight,” he suggests as he heads towards the door.
You watch him pull it open and step out, still completely speechless and rightfully exhausted, your mind spinning in a whirlwind of thoughts about what the hell just happened.
“I need those to be working tomorrow.” Jake adds smugly, quickly pointing at your legs. “Oh, and cover those marks. Can’t go in to dress rehearsal tomorrow night bruised up.”
“W-What…?! I thought dress rehearsal starts the day after tomorrow?” Your sleepy eyes grow impossibly wide.
“Nope.” Jake shakes his head once. “Best be ready, huh, sugar plum?”
With that, he leaves you to be alone with l shock and insanely sore legs, wondering how the fuck you’re going to manage a full day with him and dress rehearsals, now that he’s fucked your body to the point of no return.
@ascendingtostardust @joshsindigostreak @streamsofstardust @builtbybrokenbells @shutupdevvie @gretasmokerising @stardustvanfleet @stardustcatcher @wildbluesorbit @jaketlover @of-infinite-wonders
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Hey, how you doin girl! I was just wondering if you could do a toby, liu, and Jeff with a latina s/o like an s/o who sometimes speaks, insults, and curses in Spanish but can speak English too. If you're not taking requests than ignore it, it's fine! Love you 🌸❤️
Hi, thanks for the request :)
Toby, Liu and Jeff with a Latina s/o:
Toby:
Toby loves Latinas.
He finds it hot whenever you insult him in Spanish. Call him "puto", "nino pálido", and "pinche pendejo", and he's blushing and, on his knees, even though he doesn't know what it means.
Toby would love to learn Spanish and more about your culture like celebrations and food.
He finds it funny when you curse in Spanish and would repeat the curse words.
Liu:
Liu also finds Latinas hot.
He will be nervous around you.
Liu finds it funny when you curse in Spanish.
He sometimes wishes he could understand what you're saying.
Insult him in Spanish, and he has a ring on your finger.
Jeff:
Jeff knows a lot of Spanish curse words, so he definitely understands when you're cursing.
He will definitely join in when you start cursing.
It's very funny.
Jeff loves it when you give him nicknames that are insults and finds them hilarious. His favorite nickname you gave him was "rata fea".
Have a nice day :)
#creepypasta#creepypasta headcanons#ticci toby#creepypasta headcanon#ticci toby headcanons#creepypasta x reader#ticci toby hc#creepypasta hcs#ticci toby fluff#jeff the killer#creepypasta jeff the killer#jeffery woods#jtk x reader#creepypasta jtk#ticci toby x reader#tobias erin rogers#jeff the killer headcanons#jeff the killer x reader#homicidal liu creepypasta#creepypasta homicidal liu#creepypasta liu
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MORE jeff hc's!!!!!!
thank u for the love on the last one i love writing these sm ^___^
•can fit like 11 cigarettes in his wide ass mouth at once
•half asian (his mom is chinese)
•his hair is really thin because it never grew back properly after being burned
•hates being wrong more than anything else on the planet. sometimes he knows hes wrong but will NEVER admit it and fight to the death over it
•bpd representation 💯💯💯
•something in my brain tells me he cant die. kind of like a johnny the homicidal maniac situation. he never gets caught and he never dies (he can still get seriously injured but he will always come back when u least expect it)
•always has to be in control of the aux in every vehicle hes in and is so obnoxious when his favorite songs come on
•also yells "I SAW THIS LIVE" every time a band he saw live comes on
•barks at random unsuspecting people through the open passenger window
•always stealing shit off his victims after killing. he has a whole ring collection because of it, and of course he steals wallets for weed money
•also steals from slenderman but you didnt hear that from me
•"saying jeff is a douchebag is like saying the sky is blue." -toby
•kind of guy that takes out his bottled up emotions on everyone around him and then hates himself for it
•wears the same gross outfit all the time. just grabs one of the 3 pairs of crusty skinny jeans from off his floor and of course the musty ass dirty ass torn apart ass hoodie
•smile dog is truly his best friend. he feels like nobody understands him like smile does. he loves taking him for walks in the woods while smoking a cigarette and having deep conversations with him (not that he actually responds but jeff knows smile can understand what hes saying)
•horror movie enthusiast, from obscure fucked up ones to super cheesy ones. he has a whole shelf dedicated to his horror movie collection
•has an addictive personality, which is partially why he has a drug and alcohol abuse problem and struggles with self harm
•rarely goes out in public because hes known to have violent outbursts. he once committed mass murder at a burger king because people were looking at him weird and EJ had to drag him out of there before the cops showed up
•HATES the light he literally duct taped over his windows so the light couldn’t get in (he forgot blackout curtains exist)
•his room smells like pennies, skunk weed, and foot stank
•is actually an incredible artist but acts like hes not. literally everyone loves his work except for him
•secretly loves cartoons. he loves taking bong rips and watching scooby-doo to escape reality :)
•has never had a healthy relationship with anyone in his life, usually just sticks to hookups
•its a miracle this man is still alive considering he survives off gas station snacks and week old sodas that have been sitting on his nightstand
•speaking of he once drank an old dr pepper after he forgot he put out a cigarette in it
•got a tramp stamp when he was blackout wasted
•writes random thoughts and draws little doodles all over his bedroom walls; it kind of looks like a mental asylum in there
•also his bed is literally just a blood stained mattress on the floor with no sheet and a singular pillow and blanket
•so fucking broke he will do anything for a hundred bucks
•writes the most foul hate comments under every post he disagrees with
•he loves video games, his favorite being postal 2 (hes OBSESSED)
#creepypasta#jeff the killer#creepypasta hcs#creepypasta headcanon#jeff the killer hc#jeff the killer headcanons#jeff the killer x reader#jeffrey woods#jeffery woods#jtk headcanons#creepypasta jtk#jtk x reader#jtk#jeff woods#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta fanfic#slenderman#slender mansion#slenderverse#headcanons#headcanon
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The Ripe and The Ruin - (Chapter 1)
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader
Word Count: 14.3k
Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Unwelcome Advances, Kissing.
Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify
A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.
"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."
JAKE POV
You absentmindedly swirl the skinny black straw around in your glass, scoffing to yourself as you wonder why the bartender put a stirrer into your Whiskey in the first place. It didn’t need to be stirred. You took it straight. It was fine on its own. Regardless, you sipped around the straw, letting the oaky liquor trickle down the back of your throat.
It wasn’t that you hated flying. It was more that you hated being alone with your thoughts for extended periods of time. Only your phone or a book to occupy your brain, but you knew that only worked for so long. Eventually you’d be left alone to tumble down into those dark, dusty memories that would torment you until you touched down in whatever city you were slated to be in that day.
You hear Josh’s voice, instinctively causing you to turn your head, watching as he and Daniel stand in front of the camera recording whatever video the social media team planned for the day. You gracefully bowed out of that process all together, the team knowing not to approach you about an idea unless they knew it was something you would agree to. Usually though, it wasn’t. You turn to look at Sam on your right, seeing his gaze fixed upon the two of them. Both of you were now watching them as they played along with the skit, a huff of secondhand embarrassment sizzling through you as you sip from your glass. You’d never be caught dead doing that.
Fools. How is anyone ever supposed to take us seriously if all we show them is this?
“You ready for another few months of this shit?” you mumble, your lips barely parting from the edge of your glass.
Sam snickers as he turns back to you. “No. But that’s the job isn’t it?” he answers, swallowing down a gulp of beer, turning to look at you.
“I’m hitting that wall, too.” you answer, meeting the eyes of his girlfriend, Lyla. She sends you a sympathetic look as she squeezes Sam’s arm, giving him the little bit of reassurance he needs. “S’been a shit few weeks.”
Sam doesn’t say anything, instead pursing his lips together and slowly nodding his head as he peers down into his empty glass. Everyone knows better than to indulge you in your misery at this point, vowing not to pick at the festering wound. It’s still fresh and you’re still too volatile.
“Well, we’re going to your happy place, right?” Lyla asks with a hopeful smile.
“Yeah, yeah we are,” you answer, taking another long pull of Whiskey. It was clear she didn’t know the reason it made you happy in the first place was because of the memories you made there with the person no longer around.
You turn your head ready to fall into those memories you’ve been pushing away for weeks, but fate has other plans as you spot your production team walking towards the boarding gate. They look frantic as they talk to each other, their eyes flicking up and down from their phones in their hands. Paul, your band Manager leads the group, finally slipping his phone into his pocket as he spots the gate. Next to him is Corrine, the Production Manager talking on the phone, balancing it between her ear and shoulder as she follows Paul. Wes, the Tour Manager continues to talk to Paul as they step into the waiting area, but behind him is someone you don’t recognize.
She’s looking down at her phone, unaware that Wes has come to an abrupt stop in front of her. She runs into him just enough that it gets his attention, a profuse apology falling from her mouth. You laugh a little at the exchange, wondering who this girl is, and why she is with your team. She’s dressed like the rest of them, casual, but still comfortable for a day of travel. A slouchy white long sleeve shirt, a little too thin for the cold January weather, a brown leather backpack, worn and well loved, and a pair of olive green pants that hug her ass just a little too well for 10AM on a Thursday morning. You find yourself unable to pull your eyes away from her, a magnetizing feeling sucking you in the longer you look at her. She laughs with Wes, a bright smile lighting up her face causing an unwelcome twinge in your chest. It’s when she fully turns though, allowing you to see her whole face through the curtain of tousled waves, that you find yourself needing to know who she is.
You swallow nervously, licking your bottom lip as you turn to Sam. “Who uh, who’s that?” you ask, nodding towards the group. “With Paul, Wes, and Corri?”
Sam turns around in his barstool, looking across the busy walkway to the group standing at the gate. “Oh, um…” he pauses, assessing the situation. “She’s with Paul, so that must be our new runner.”
“What happened to Lucy?” you ask, letting your eyes drift back to the mystery girl.
“She got engaged and moved to Scotland or some shit, I don’t remember. Ask Josh,” he laughs.
You hum, trying to remember the email thread where Paul’s new assistant was approved. What was her name…
“You know her name?” Lyla asks, looking at Sam.
Yes, Lyla. Yes.
“Um, I think it’s….Y/N. Yeah, yeah, Y/N,” he answers confidently, snapping his fingers as he speaks.
“So she’s the new Lucy…” you hum, flipping your sunglasses down over your eyes.
“Guess so. We’ll see if she can hack it,” he laughs, sliding his card to the bartender.
You turn back to look at her, this time your eyes concealed. She is rocking back and forth on her feet, looking around as she hugs her arms across her chest. She seems nervous, pushing her hair behind her ears every few minutes. You’re positively taken by her, unable to peel your eyes away from her every move. You can’t help but study her, and you briefly wonder if it's the alcohol rushing through your brain that has you so focused on her.
The gate agents’ voice blaring through the intercom system snaps you from your thoughts, announcing that your flight was ready to begin boarding. You look to Sam, who is signing the check, and nod your head in silent agreement that you should head over. You toss back the rest of your Whiskey, letting out a sigh as it warms your chest. You grab your black leather backpack and sling it over your shoulders, straightening out your shirt before following Sam across the walkway to the gate. With your glasses still down, you step into the waiting area, watching people line up around you.
Josh, Ty, Mia, and Daniel appear behind you, startling you a bit as you fumble around in your pocket for your boarding pass. Their conversation is loud and grating, but you tune them out. You check your seat assignment as you move forward in the line, repeating it in your head over and over so you don’t forget it. You try not to pay attention to the pretty mystery girl five people ahead of you, but you just can’t seem to take your eyes off of her. You watch her disappear down the jet bridge as she talks to Paul, and before you can even register it, it’s your turn and the gate agent is scanning your ticket. She sends you on your way with a smile, and as you make the long walk to the plane you wonder if the girl in the green pants is going to make this tour just a little bit more interesting.
—
HER POV
3E. 3E. 3E.
Your eyes scan the row of numbers at the top of the cabin, finally catching sight of your assigned seat. You slide into the aisle seat, tossing your backpack to the floor as you let out a sigh of relief. You made it in one piece. You weren’t late, and everyone seemed to like you so far.
You take a look around you, admiring the plush seats and ample legroom. You’d never flown first class before. You felt a little out of place as you looked at the people around you. Thankfully it was filled with team members you knew, and the band members and their partners, but still you knew you didn’t belong up here. You kicked your bag beneath the seat in front of you, pulling your shirt sleeves over your hands before reaching up to adjust the air vents that were blowing far too hard. A small shiver left your body as you spun the vents closed, sitting back comfortably in your seat as you waited to see who your seat partner would be.
Your phone buzzed on your lap, a text from your best friend lighting up your screen.
Ruth
10:57am: How many hours is the flight again?
You smile as you quickly text back, running the numbers in your head.
You
10:58am: I don’t know, like 7 or 8 hours? You’ll be fine. Read a book or something. I’ll text you when I get there. But it will be late…or early? I think? There is a big time difference.
Ruth
10:59am: Ok, be careful.
You lock your phone and shove it under your leg, your eyes darting to the aisle as more people pass you on their way to their seats. You couldn’t believe your first leg of tour with them was taking you across Europe, allowing you to see places you’d only dreamed about. It wasn’t the job you were worried about, you could do that in your sleep. It was the uncertainty of being in another country with people you didn’t really know.
Getting to know the bands you worked for was a precarious thing. Always walking the thin line between friend and employee. You knew your place though, and you knew where that boundary lied. Your eyes refocus as someone stops in front of you, dropping their hands. As you look up you see Jake, one of the band members staring back at you.
“I’m…right there,” he says, gently pointing to the seat next to you.
“Oh, right here?” you ask, genuinely curious how you were seated next to a band member and not with a crew member.
“3F? That’s what this says…” he asks, checking his boarding pass. You nod and stand, letting him slide into the seat. He drops his leather backpack to the ground with a thud, letting out a sigh of relief, much in the same way you had.
You resettle in your own seat, buckling your seatbelt and pulling it tight across your lap. Your heart is still pounding as you try to calm your nerves, suddenly feeling put on the spot next to your boss. Or– your boss's boss. Shit.
You realize that you know practically nothing about this band, about its members, and really even much of their music beyond their hits. You planned to spend most of this flight acquainting yourself with them, learning their likes and dislikes before making a fool out of yourself in front of them in the green room. You don’t know if you should speak to him, and truthfully you’re a little hesitant since that day at the office, catching him and Josh in an argument.
You didn’t even know they would be there as you went in to sign your paperwork, but to your surprise they were, standing in the middle of the office playing around on instruments and talking. You made a beeline straight for the management office, mostly unseen, and quickly signed your paperwork. Paul went over some of the timelines and the things you would be responsible for as you took detailed notes on your phone, not wanting to miss a single thing.
Though, all of that came to a screeching halt as the sound of a chair skidding forcefully across the concrete floors pulled you both from your conversation. From your seat you watched through the small office door as two men moved towards each other, while two more intervened to break up whatever was about to happen.
You then learned from Paul that the two people that were arguing were the twins, Jake and Josh, and that the other two were their younger brother Sam, and their honorary brother Daniel. You observed in shock as the two of them shouted profanities at each other from either side of the piano, both red faced and worked up over something.
Paul quickly walked you out the front door with an apology and a laugh, and that was the last you saw of the band and its members, until today.
Out of the corner of your eye, you try to get a good look at him without him noticing. First impressions have always been a big deal to you, and since your first impression of him was nothing short of off-putting, you decide to try again. Give him the benefit of the doubt.
Worn-in black pants, cuffed at the ankle, a wrinkled beige button up that only conceals half his torso, a thick dark navy overcoat, and a stack of heavy silver necklaces. Oh, and blue-tinted sunglasses. His cologne… now that will be sticking around in your mind for a while. Clean, woodsy, a hint of musk but still kind of sweet.
You hear him clear his throat as he fidgets with his things, putting them all in their places as he finally settles into his seat. He reaches down into his black leather bag that appears to be well-loved, and pulls out a set of wired earbuds. They’re tangled and bunched, and you can’t help but smirk as you watch him try to untangle them. His fingers pull through the twisted white wires, and before you can offer your help, he reluctantly tosses them back down on top of his unzipped bag. “Fuck it,” you hear him mumble under his breath. He huffs again and leans back, tapping his fingers anxiously on his arm rests.
You let yourself drift back into your own thought as the plane takes off, going over the hundreds of miniscule things you know you’ll have to accomplish as soon as the plane lands. It’s quiet in first class, something you aren't used to with flying on the regular. The peacefulness that comes along with the drone of the plane and the light conversation between everyone is almost enough to help you relax a little, if not for the damned cool air still blowing through the vent above you.
You shiver a little, cuffing your hands over the ends of your shirt to pull it in more closely to your body. Why you had chosen to forgo a heavier jacket in the middle of winter, you truly don’t know. You decide to distract yourself a little, pulling up the string of endless emails that lie in waiting on your phone, getting a nice head-start on your duties before you have to hit the ground running.
Jake has been sitting beside you quietly for about an hour now, alternating scrolling his phone every few minutes and looking out his window. The cloud cover is heavy, so being able to see even a glimpse of the ocean below you is a lost cause. You listen as he sighs, crossing one of his legs over the other and folding his hands in his lap.
Should you strike up conversation? No, he probably doesn’t care to speak to you. But is it rude not to? You’ve already been sitting here for over an hour…
Just as you decide to open your mouth to speak, the plane hits turbulence. The cabin shakes and rumbles, and you can feel your stomach fall. Your hands grip the arm rests with white knuckles as the plane passes through, your eyes gripping shut as tightly as your palms on the arm rests.
Finally, after what feels like forever the plane evens out again, and you hear the pilot come over the intercom to apologize. You finally let the breath you were holding free from your lungs, and you open your eyes to see Jake with his head leaned low in front of you.
“You okay?” he asks, an eyebrow cocked.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just…don’t really enjoy this part much.” you admit, running your sweaty palms over your pants.
He sits back in his seat once he notices your calmness return. “Me neither, to be honest. No matter how many times you hit turbulence on a plane, you never get used to it. I don’t care what people say.” he says with a sweet smile. You can tell that he was coming down from an anxious episode just the same as you.
“No joke…” you agree, suddenly wanting a drink even if it was before noon. You push the tiny hairs away from your face as you regain a hold on your bearings, picking up right where you had left off before the turbulent air sent you into a spiral of doom. “I–I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself before, my name’s–”
“Y/N.” he cut in, extending the tips of his fingers out to offer you a friendly handshake.
You let your hand slowly come up to meet his, suddenly uncaring that it was probably still clammy. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”
For the five seconds your bodies connect, and the even shorter few seconds that his honey brown eyes meet yours, you feel like you were worried for nothing. This guy is nice. Maybe he’ll be easier to talk to than you thought…
His hand disconnects and flies to his chest. “I’m Jake.”
You nod. Of course you already know his name. “Yeah, um…guitar. Right?”
He smiles harder this time. “Yup. That’s my forte, at least. Have you um, ever been to Europe?” He brushes his hand over his nose a few times as his eyes dart back and forth from the seat behind you and back to your face, unable to hold eye contact. Is he nervous?
You turn your body a little more toward him. “No, actually. This is my first time. But I hear good things…”
“Oh shit, you’re gonna love it. Especially this time of year. Things move pretty fast when we get there, but we always try to explore as much as possible. See some sights.” You can tell that he’s truly excited about this excursion, and to be completely honest, you found yourself wanting to hang on his every word.
“Anything in particular?” you press, wanting to hear the gritty rich sound of his voice again.
You let him talk on and on about the places he wants to see, and the places that they had already been, even bringing up a few older photos on his phone as he describes their past trips. You try not to look as he scrolls, but his camera roll is full of tons of scenic photos and videos, landscapes, mountains, waterfronts… and of course a few rogue photos of guitars and guitar parts. You wonder if he’s planning to make little vlogs.
“Italy is my favorite, I think. So much history there. I could’ve stayed for six months if they’d have let me.” Your shoulders are pressed up against each others’ now as you watch his thumb glide over the multitude of media, speeding through the less important ones to get to his favorites. Strange of him to trust a stranger this much to watch him scroll his personal camera roll. He obviously doesn’t have much to hide, even if this is crossing that boundary line…
“The people are great, the food is great, the wine, oh god, don’t get me started on the wine…” he chuckles, and you feel yourself bumping your shoulder against his a little as you laugh along with him. “The terroir is fuckin’ phenomenal, obviously. It’s like a different world.”
“I like a moscato every now and then.” You add, trying to throw in your two cents on your crumbs of wine knowledge.
He returns with a scrunched nose. “Hmm, a bit sweet for my taste…So, Y/N. What’s your story, how’d you end up with us?” he asks, switching to cross his other leg over, now.
You swallow, unsure of how to explain years’ worth of ups and downs you’d gone through to a rockstar. Your boss. You decide to keep it short and sweet, he didn’t need to know everything.
“Well, I spent my entire youth attending a small private school and private high school, so I came up quite the determined and disciplined kid. Kinda sheltered.” You turn again in your seat, tucking one leg up underneath you. “But, I ended up moving away from home and away from family, been in this business for almost, eh, six years now?” You go on, and he listens intently. “Guess you could say I’m a pro at making things happen out of thin air.” You give him a long wink as you snap your fingers together.
His eyebrows shoot up, and he finally gives you a hundred-watt smile. My god, he’s…
“A-ha, so you got all the good hookups, huh?” He asks, running his fingers over his chin as his cheeks turn the palest shade of pink.
“S’what the runner does, isn’t it?” You pull your eyes back down to your lap. “Get you everything you need, right when you need it?”
You bring your eyes back up to his and watch as he swallows hard, his mouth hanging open for just a split second before he catches himself. “Yeah, ehm, I suppose it is. We’re not too bossy, though. Josh can be, but.”
“So I’ve heard, he’s kind of a…diva?” You hadn’t done too much research on them, honestly. You hadn’t had the time. But, what few tiktoks and musics videos you had managed to see were fairly telling of their personalities.
“He is. He is.” Jake laughs. “Don't let him fool you, though. He’s a big softie with an attitude problem. We all kind of are, honestly.”
“You’re a softie?” You press with a teasing tone. “From the few videos I’ve seen of you playing guitar, you look a little intimidating…”
“Me? Intimidating?” He clicks his tongue. “Don’t believe everything you see on the internet, Y/N. It’s dangerous…” he growls the last word, and you can feel your insides ripping themselves apart just at the sound of his voice. You have to pull back, now.
“All the runners we’ve ever had did extensive research on us before they came on tour, did you not do that?” he inquires, throwing you off a bit.
You don’t really know how to answer, so you tell the truth. “Honestly Jake, no, I didn’t. I’ve toured with a few other bands in my career, and I did that. I researched them, learned all things I thought I needed to know so I didn’t go in blind. And, this time around, I did a little bit, but I kind of wanted to meet you all for myself. Get my own versions of you.”
“Hm.” He responds with an understanding nod. “Well, you’ll be the first.”
“Speaking of,” you go on, candidly glancing around the cabin and deciding to go ahead and ask the question that’s been nagging you. “Everyone else is seated with someone, wonder why I’m not with the rest of the team.”
“What, you don’t wanna sit by me, Y/N?” he asks with a shred of a grin.
“No no, it’s not that.” you laugh. “Just—“
“Normally I have someone with me, but…we’ve recently…gone our separate ways, I suppose.” He trips over the words a little, stammering through them like it was the first time he’d admitted it.
“Oh… I see.” you pause, “That’s…never an easy thing.”
I wonder if that was why he was so snippy that day at the office when you saw him fall off his rocker?
“Eh, s’alright. Win some, lose some. We had a good run.” He says as he waves off the question. “So, you say you’ve been doing this awhile, you must really miss whoever you’re leaving at home.”
Skating around the question, aren’t you, Jake?
“No, I’m single, if that’s what you’re asking.” You bite your lip as he doesn’t stop you from elaborating further. “I’m pretty independent, I like structure and uniformity. Growing up I wasn’t allowed much time on my own to have hobbies outside of school and practice. Strict parents. The job has kept me pretty adhered to that mindset, even in my personal life, so.”
His eyes flick to yours and he squints them a little, as if he’s collecting every single one of your words and hanging them in a closet in his mind. He’s trying his best to figure you out, you can see it on his face. But why? He shouldn’t care…you don’t matter.
“I can respect that.” He nods again. “My brothers and I, we grew up in a fairly religious household. Was great, don’t get me wrong. Really formed our roots but, as we got older and started to see the world, we kinda got away from it. Began to start seeing things in a different perspective.” He sucks his teeth, as if he’s recounting a hard memory. “Kinda why we moved to Nashville. We knew we had to break away if we wanted the band to be successful.”
You nod in understanding. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it?”
His laugh fills the cabin as it bounces off the walls, a sweet chuckle that makes your heart rate pick up. You could listen to him laugh all day long.
“S’pose it did.”
“The fuck are you two over here laughing at, huh?” Suddenly Josh’s curls are squished between your seats, his cheeks pinched together as he speaks. “I’m trying to get some shut-eye but I can’t from all the babbling—”
Jake places his hand over entirety of his twin’s face, pressing him through and back into his own seat. “None of your business, fuck off.”
You laugh at their antics, knowing in the back of your mind that you had better get used to it. You feel the air kick on again, fiercely blowing the freezing cold air directly onto you. You shiver a little, balling yourself up and pulling your sleeves closely in toward you again.
“You want my jacket?” Jake asks, already starting to pull it from his shoulders.
“No! No no no, thank you, but I’m fine, really.” The last thing you need is that right off that bat. A bad look. Day one. Nope.
“Seriously, I run naturally hot. Take it.” He replies.
“Oh yeah? Hence all your layers?” You tease, repositioning in your seat.
“It’s a fashion statement, thank you very much.” He bites. “All about comfort for me.”
Gotta change the subject.
“So tell me something I should know about your brothers. Something that would give me brownie points if I wanted to say…impress them with my craft service skills…” you press, giving him a new challenge.
“Wow um, let’s see…” he brings his fingers to his chin and thinks hard, and you can’t help but feel endeared by the fact that he truly wants to help you out. “Josh stays away from chocolate and dairy and sweets and all that, but his guilty pleasure is those cotton candy flavored grapes. Weird, I know.”
“Oh my god, those are so nasty!” you laugh, but still take note.
“Danny would be over the moon if you surprised him with salsa verde Doritos, and Sam drinks kombucha more than the normal human should.” he finishes with a stern nod.
“Got it. I think I can make most of that happen, aside from the grapes…”
“He would kiss you right on the lips, I’m telling you.” Jake giggles again, and you notice how he lights up when he talks about them.
“So Josh is the dramatic softie, what about the other two?” you ask.
“Sam’s kinda serious but he’s playful when he wants to be. Sneaky, too. Daniel’s always into something, always busy. Man doesn’t like to sit still,” he concludes, and you commit it all.
“And what about you?” you ask, feeling your stomach flip for some reason.
“I thought you said you wanted to get your own versions of us,” he quipped back, parroting your words from earlier. Damn, you had said that.
You toss your hair behind your shoulder. “I did but…You’ll tell me all about them, but not about yourself?”
He crunches his lips together as his eyes scan your face. It makes you a little uncomfortable, how hard he’s really looking at you, but you let him. Stopping him would be a sin you weren’t ready to commit just yet.
“That’s right.”
The two of you drift off into silence again as the minutes tick by, thankfully not being embarrassingly interrupted by Josh anymore. You decide that you want to listen to some music, so you reach into the pocket of your bag and pull out your AirPods, slipping the left one in first followed by the right. You pull up your music and begin flipping through your playlists, searching for something to match the relaxed tone of the hour. Truly, you feel like you could easily drift off to sleep.
You find a nice quiet playlist and curl up in your seat, halfway reluctant you didn’t take Jake’s jacket, but also proud of yourself for saying no. You’re fucking freezing.
You turn your head to the side and close your eyes, ready to drift off into another world.
You’re jolted awake by turbulence, the plane shaking again as you wake up and get your bearings. “Shit,” you breathe as you sit up straighter, remembering exactly where you are. You notice that in your slumber, your head had fallen against Jake’s shoulder. Fuck. Fuck fuck.
The turbulence only lasts a few seconds before it evens out again, and the calmness returns to your body. You glance at Jake, seeing him looking a little drowsy and shaken, too.
“Jake, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, why didn’t you wake me? I—”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I kinda dozed off, too,” he replies, stretching his arms high above his head without a care…not like he didn’t just have a stranger asleep with her head on his shoulder.
You look down, noticing that in the time you had drifted off, Jake had covered you with his coat.
You panic, scrambling a little as you work to pull it from your body before anyone notices.
His hands are quickly on yours, stopping your action. “Leave it, Y/N. You were shivering in your sleep…you can’t tell me you aren’t cozy right now…” his voice is barely a whisper, and the warmth of his hands grazing overtop of yours, even for a second, is enough to give you a whole other type of chill.
“Yeah, I—I am warm…” you can’t deny that your body temperature has increased by at least a couple of degrees, and your fingers don’t feel like they’re going to get frostbite anymore. The jacket is heavy, heavier than it looks, and it smells like fresh pine needles and woodsy body soap. Just like…him?
“See?” he growls, backing away. “Just stay put.”
Stay put? You want to bite back with something that will put him in his place; you explicitly told him you didn’t want his jacket, and he covered you anyway. While you were unconscious. While you couldn’t turn down the offer.
…But you’re so warm, now. Your tense muscles are finally relaxing. The frigidity of the space has suddenly turned into a toasty furnace with a crackling fire.
Okay, but just until we land…
“What are you listening to?” Jake asks as he stretches again. You turn your phone for him to see, showing a generic playlist of Peaceful Sleep Songs lighting up your lock screen.
“Agh, no, what is that shit?” Jake snatches your phone from your hand, quickly flipping the screen to unlock with your face before he begins shuffling through your playlists.
“What are you doing?!” you yelp, reaching for your phone back. He raises his free hand to the air, stopping you from taking it.
“Aht aht… I’m finding you something better to listen to. Don’t worry about it.” You suddenly hear the quiet music in your ears switch to something else, something you knew for a fact you hadn’t ever heard before. You give it a second as he turns the volume up a few notches, and you realize that it is most definitely brand new to you.
It’s a solemn, tense-feeling piano beat, followed in by guitar. Lyrics only come in after a minute and a half or so. It sounds like growling, deep and hollow and a bit scary, but beautiful nonetheless. He’s watching your face as you experience it, quickly pressing pause as the song comes to a close.
“What was that?” you ask, realizing you had really enjoyed it.
“That was a song called Intro, by Alt-J. I know you’ve heard of Alt-J.” he says as he goes back to work on the phone.
You slowly shake your head from side to side. “Can’t say I have, actually.”
His jaw goes slack as his eyebrows raise in disbelief. “What? Like, never?”
You feel your cheeks turning pink at the thought of a literal rockstar calling you out on your lack of music knowledge.
“I don’t think so! That’s not what I normally listen to…don’t judge me,” you laugh, reaching for your phone again.
He swats your hand away. “Ohh no, little fledgling. You’re listening to this. This is the good shit…” he presses play again as a twinkling high-pitched voice comes through your ears. It’s just jumbled words, no backing music or tune. The acapella strikes you as strange at first, until the end when it changes tone a bit, and it’s almost as if the lyrics are giving you advice you didn’t ask for. Warning you of something new and exhilarating, or better yet, dangerous and foreboding. It almost feels as if a black cloud has overcome you, only for a split second, letting you feel the nonexistent pokes and pinches that come along with the emotion of worry.
The song flows directly into another now, one layered with a lot more sound, and it pulls you from that odd headspace the previous had put you in. You lean over the armrest, looking at the screen to see the title Tessellate. You’ve never heard anything like this kind of music before, and you wonder why Jake chose this particular artist.
“This is one of their more popular ones, like radio popular, but it’s still one of my favorites on this album. Here in a second you’ll hear it slow down—”
You stop him by pulling your right earbud out, shoving it in his hand. “Shh, you can talk me through the songs later. Let me listen.”
He shuts his mouth, giving you a sweet grin as he takes the bud, placing it in his own ear and pressing play again. You continue on through the album, each song something brand new to you, a genre you’d really never delved into but wish you had, now. It’s enthralling, different, and full of sounds that make your mind sway and swim through mixtures of color and gray.
You watch as Jake’s fingers tap along exactly with the beat of each song perfectly, down to a tee. The words don’t make much sense to you, and you can hardly distinguish what the singer is saying, but you know that Jake will give you a rundown of it all as soon as time allows him. You don’t know much about him, but his persistence is already apparent. You glance to see his eyelashes hitting his cheeks, his head barely bobbing side to side as he feels the music. You find yourself envious that he can draw inspiration and act on it, turning it into art of his own, whereas all you can do is sit back and listen to it.
Every couple of minutes he perks up from his meditation and adds new songs from their other albums onto the little playlist he’s started for you. You can’t quite make out what he’s titled it, but you can tell it's an emoji of some sort. His thumb flips and flies with precision across your screen as he scrolls and adds songs, and you have to admit, you’re a little excited to get your phone back and learn just what he’s creating for you. Especially for you.
You take a quick deep breath as you recenter yourself, catching your eyes drifting over his hand as he grips your phone. The veins in his hand roll over his knuckles, and you can just barely see the scuffed and calloused ends of his fingertips. Dial it the fuck back Y/N, remember the rules.
“Oooh, this is another one of my favorites,” he remarks, his mouth fairly close to your ear as he tries not to raise his voice over the volume of the music. He turns the screen a little so you can see the title, Taro. “You haven’t— You didn’t come to any of our shows last year by chance, did you?”
You feel a big pang of guilt shoot through your chest, remembering that you had actually been invited by some friends to see them way back when, but you’d turned the invitation down, not knowing who they even were at the time. You shake your head from side to side. “No, I didn’t.”
“This is one of the ones we play to the crowd before we go on. We all love it, it’s a sad, sad love tale based on true events. That’s the cool thing about this group, their lyrics are never really about what you think they are. They’re storytellers, a bit like Josh is, if you think about it. Their themes and over arcs are just…mind blowing sometimes.” Jake’s voice is a tiny murmur in your ear as your shoulders lean on one another’s again, still very taken with the music flowing through your ear. “We grab a lot of inspo from them, sonically and melodically…” You can feel his breath on your cheek, and you find yourself wondering what it would taste like…
“Here, read along with the lyrics. Try not to cry.” He hands your phone back, letting you keep up with the words floating down your screen. And he’s right, it’s heartbreaking without even knowing the context.
“Wow…That was really beautiful,” you choke, realizing the depth of the story of the song.
“Yep. Good shit, I told you.” He whips his hand around and takes the phone back as the next song comes in and warms your bones up again. You can feel the bare skin of his elbow brushing against yours, realizing that he was telling the truth about being naturally warm-bodied. Suddenly you don’t feel so bad about cuddling up under his coat.
He opens your contacts app and adds himself, placing the sword emoji beside his name. He smirks as he hands the phone back.
“Added your phone number, huh?” you ask rhetorically.
He sucks his teeth as he cracks his fingers. “Yep. How else will I let you know what I might need? Plus, never know when you might need to call me.”
—
You watch the signs overhead illuminate, a gentle tone ringing through the cabin as the Captain starts to make an announcement. You pause the song and pull your AirPod out, watching Jake do the same.
“Hey folks, this is your Captain speaking. Just want to let you know we will be landing in Hamburg shortly. I’d expect to be on the ground in the next ten minutes or so, putting us about fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, so sit tight and we’ll have you on the ground in a few. Attendants please prepare for arrival.”
You turn to look at Jake, shrugging as you slide your AirPod back into the case. He raises his eyebrows and drops his jaw. “But we aren’t done! Wait! Hold on!”
He grabs your phone again, and from what you can see he is adding more songs to your playlist. You watch as he scrolls through various different albums by different artists, adding songs as quickly as he can. You smirk as you catch sight of the emoji he’s chosen, the chick icon, a playful nod at his earlier fledgling comment. He peeks over at you every few seconds, trying his best to hurry so you can pack up your things, but in a last effort you watch as he adds himself as a collaborator to the playlist.
You raise an eyebrow to him as he hands your phone back to you, shrugging with a soft laugh. You feel your insides swirl at the sight of his smile, and you turn your eyes to your phone scrolling through the songs on the playlist. You turn back to him and nod, a silent agreement that you will listen just as you feel the plane starting to land.
“I wanna keep adding songs for you to listen to, fledgling. If you want me to, of course…”
You nod. “Of course I do. School away, Jake,” you reply with an air of playful annoyance.
He chuckles. “I plan to.”
As you brace for the landing you grip your hands into the arm rests, letting go of the soft worn in corduroy fabric you’d been playing with for the last hour. Your eyes squint closed as the plane touches down, jolting everyone forward in their seats. Jake grabs his phone as the plane slows down, flashing his screen at you to show a local time of 12:13AM.
“I see some jet lag in our future,” you smile, sliding his jacket off of your arms. You fold it the best you can and hand it back to him, almost sad you have to give it back to him. “Thanks again for that.”
“Oh yeah, no problem.” He accepts it graciously from you, letting out a soft breath as he unfolds it and slides it back over his shoulders. It fits his personality well, soft and sturdy, worn in and weathered. He flips his hair out from beneath the collar, a barely there smell of peppermint passing through the air. You pull your gaze away from him just as you see his cheeks start to blush from your gaze. You lock your phone and stick it into your backpack at your feet, wondering how in such a short amount of time Jake has managed to infiltrate your thoughts so completely.
JAKE POV
As she turns to grab her bag you open your phone, tapping on the notification that she has added you to her playlist. You accept the invitation with a sly smile before sliding your phone back into your coat pocket. It smells like her now, soft and floral, very different than anything you were used to. Your mind was already circling with things you wanted to add to that playlist when you got a minute, finding it was harder than you thought to think of songs on the fly.
The first few rows begin to file out of the plane and you watch as Paul stands and turns to look at Y/N, motioning to her to meet up with him after she got off the plane. She nods her head and slides her backpack straps over her shoulders, waiting for her turn to stand.
“For jet lag…You know…Um, Benadryl,” you offer, your voice a little soft and unsure.
She turns to look at you, pinching her brows together in question.
“When you get to your room tonight, take a Benadryl. Should knock you out until the morning and help you get on a normal schedule. Works for me, at least.” you finish, nodding to her as the people in front of you stand to leave.
“Thanks, Jake.” She smiles and nods, sliding out of her seat to walk down the aisle.
You watch her as she walks up the jet bridge towards the gate, seeing Paul waiting for her in the doorway. The two walk together through the airport, finding it fairly quiet at this hour as most of the flights have landed for the night. You push your sunglasses down onto your nose just as you feel Josh walking up behind you.
He gives you a gentle nudge in the side to get your attention. “You good?”
“Yeah, yeah. Easy flight,” you answer, still listening and catching bits and pieces of whatever Paul is saying to Y/N, prepping her for the hotel check in and details for the morning. She is typing notes on her phone as she walks, barely looking where she is going, clearly trusting Paul to look out for her more than she should.
You tune out Josh as he rambles on about the flight, Ty jumping in every few words with a retort or a laugh. Your eyes don’t seem to leave her though, watching her talk, watching her walk, shit, just watching her. You can’t seem to shake it. You’d never met anyone like her before. Someone you were so instantly taken with. You wanted to know every single detail about her.
You feel Josh’s hand as it comes up to your chin, pressing it upward and forcing your jaw shut. “There, you seemed to have dropped that.”
You turn to him angrily, knowing what he’s insinuating, giving him a hard elbow to the arm. “Fuck off, Josh.”
He laughs and pushes you with his shoulder, readjusting his backpack on his other shoulder. “Just an observation, that’s all. Can’t say I blame you, though.”
“Oh are you talking about Jake and Y/N?” Sam interjects, stepping up on your right side in a lanky stride.
Josh nods, laughing slightly, wanting to keep this banter going. Asshole.
“Can you two knock it off, fuck,” you growl, hoping she can’t hear them. Your eyes are locked in on her again, and much to your relief she is talking to Paul and can’t hear a word they’re saying.
“He didn’t shut up the entire flight. Lots of whispering and giggles from up there. I didn’t sleep at all. But I did hear his monologue about the genius of Alt-J for the fourth time this year.” Josh quips, earning a laugh from everyone around you.
“Fuck you again, Josh,” you spit, annoyed at his lack of respect.
“Damn, so you’re trying to scare her away, then?” Sam teases, giving you a sideways grin.
You shake your head and push past them forcefully as you step off the escalator into baggage claim, not wanting to engage in this conversation a second longer. Especially because you were afraid they might be right.
—
“Shit, not again,” Danny mumbles as you all approach the baggage claim area, immediately noticing a group of fans obviously waiting for your arrival. You take a deep, preparational breath as you can’t help but run into them on your path to the carousel.
“Let’s just get it over with,” you hear Josh complain as he puts on his faux-happy face. You all love meeting fans. Truly, watching their faces light up when they see you is something that is unparalleled. But coming off of a long flight and already feeling the effects of the time difference, starving, and ready for a drink usually puts all of you in a mood that is generally irked overall. But you always suck it up; this is the life you signed up for.
This time though, unlike most encounters with fans, is enough to make your general irritation quickly turn into intense aggravation. They swarm you, hugging and pulling and invading your spaces in an extremely unwelcome attempt at meeting each of you. You feel surrounded, and unable to get to your luggage in time before it rounds the carousel again. You keep your cool, just as you always do, curtly smiling and pulling away as your body instructs you to. You pause for quick photos as your eyes search the spinning luggage again. You see your brothers out of the corners of your eyes doing the same… quick ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet you’s’ as the crowd just seems to get bigger and bigger.
Just as your eyes finally fall on your suitcase, you hear a loud clack as you turn and notice someone has knocked Sam’s phone out of his hand. It lands face down on the tile floor, likely cracked and scuffed from the people crowding around you all. You watch as Sam’s face turns up in annoyance, his eyes closed as he composes himself.
“Okay, that’ll be enough!” You hear Dean, your security, bellow across the crowd. “Please step away, no more photos, no more photos…” Dean makes his way into the center of group, quickly dispersing them. You give Sam a quick look that says, ‘get your phone, let’s go’, and soon enough you’re rolling your suitcase through the middle of the crowded room.
You see Y/N in the crowd, finding her to be a little flustered from the encounters, but alright nonetheless. You lock eyes with her as she mouths, ‘Are you okay?’, and you nod her off with a look of, ‘Yeah, this happens all the time.’
Your team is surrounding you as you quickly walk through the hallway toward the exit, ready to hop into an unmarked van and zip away to your hotel. You’re still being followed as you make it through the back exit doors.
When you’re finally safe outside the pickup area, everyone breathes a sigh of relief. “Fuck, that was a bad one.” Danny says. “Sam, how's your phone?”
“It’s ok, just a little scuff in the corner but it’ll be fine,” he answers, scanning his eyes over it.
“Guys, keep your phones on, Wes will be texting you tomorrow with where we’re headed next. Get some sleep and something to eat.” Paul instructs as everyone loads their things into the vans. Y/N is standing nearby, and you can tell that she feels a little out of place as she awkwardly crosses one ankle over the other. You take a quick opportunity to knock your elbow into her side, feeling comfortable enough to do that now that you’d sat together so long on the plane, but she’s avoiding eye contact. You hope she doesn’t feel uncomfortable around you.
“Hey, thanks for letting me jam a little with you on the plane,” you say sheepishly. “Sorry if I overstepped any, but I really think you’ll like the music I added for you.”
Finally her composure opens a little. “No, no! You didn’t… overstep. I’m actually excited to hop in my big cozy hotel bed and listen again.” Her words make your stomach fall with nerves, but you quickly suppress it.
“Y/N, you ready?” you hear Wes ask her as he passes by, heading toward another van.
“Yep, all set!” she answers as she follows him through the dwindling group. She hops into another van, and you worry she’ll be staying at another hotel. For a second you think you won’t see her as much if she is. You climb inside the van and slam the door closed behind you, seeing the group of fans with their phones pressed to the windows of the airport. You plop back down into the middle seat beside Josh, and finally take a full breath of relief.
“Fuck! I swear to god if I’m getting sick again…” Josh says as he bangs his head against the headrest behind him. You scoot sideways on the van’s bench seat, staying as far away from him as you can.
“Are you serious?!” Danny says from the seat behind you. “You need a mythical medicine man or some shit.”
“It’s fine, I’m fine, just feel a little congested. I’ll send Y/N out on her first mission for some meds after we get settled in the hotel.” Josh answers, and you keep yourself pressed against the van’s window, purposefully turning your back to him. Can’t have that again. You realize, though, that of course she’ll be in the same hotel as you, management always is.
The vision of a worried Y/N replays in your mind, seeing her face full of concern as the fans did all but ambush you earlier. You shake the thought, suddenly having a realization that, most likely, everyone else is having, too.
“I think we should amp up security,” you blurt. “No offense to Dean, but he’s only one guy. There are more than ten of us…” you’re met with a little bit of silence, so you press on. “Just while we’re over here, at least. We’re going to be separated a lot, and I think it would be a good idea if Dean wasn’t being pulled in all different directions.”
“Don’t you think we should have thought of that before we got over here, Jake?” Josh counters.
“I’ve actually been thinking it for a while. Today just…made me feel like it’s necessary, now,” you respond quietly. What could it hurt? You have the funds, and a few extra eyes on you and your team couldn’t be a bad thing.
You hear a collective sigh from your brothers, until Sam finally speaks. “Yeah, I kinda felt a little overwhelmed when I dropped my phone and it got kicked away from me. First world problems, I know, but—”
“But someone could have picked it up, and ran off with it. Gotten access to your private information. Stepped on it and shattered it. We’re probably just paranoid, but I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a bad idea…” you suggest.
“I like the idea.” Josh adds. “Wish we would have talked about it sooner, but I’m sure Paul could get something arranged for us. Those security companies are always looking for overseas gigs.”
“Daniel, you agree?” you ask, twisting your body to the backseat.
“Yeah, I do, actually,” he decides.
“Good. It’s settled, then. We’ll talk to Paul first thing in the morning,” you say, happy with your decision of bringing it up. All you can see is a memory of Y/N’s scared face replaying over and over in your mind, and you just can’t seem to shake it.
You quickly curse yourself, you’re in no headspace to be worrying about a woman right now. You’ve gotta keep your head on straight. Tour hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already letting a new girl give you butterflies. You audibly scoff at yourself as you lean your elbow on the window, looking out at the bustling streets outside. You throw your earbuds in, letting the tangle of cords just be what it is, and you pull your phone out to switch the volume up. Of course, Alt-J pops onto your screen the second you look at it, and you wonder if she’s already listening to them, too.
The city lights are twinkling through the light drizzle of rain, and you finally feel your bones starting to settle into tiredness. Though your mind is racing with excitement to play shows, you let yourself ignore the thoughts and relax into the music blessing your ears. Some room service and a down comforter is calling your name.
—--
HER POV
The shrill sound of your hotel room telephone wakes you from a half-sleep. What the hell? What time is it? You don’t remember falling asleep, but the loud TV and the lights still illuminating the room signify you must have accidentally dozed off.
“Hello?” you answer, realizing that no matter the time, duty calls.
“Hey, Y/N. It’s Paul. Sorry if I woke you…”
“No, you’re fine. I’m awake,” you lie.
“Cool. Um, Josh was wondering if you’d run to the pharmacy down the street and pick up the meds I just texted you. He said he would go get them himself, but he’s doing a lung steaming treatment or… something. I dunno. But if you don’t care, here’s your first assignment! I know it’s late, but the pharmacy is apparently open all night.”
You glance at your watch and see that it’s already nearing 1:00AM. “Sure! I don’t care at all. Tell him I’ll have them to him ASAP.”
“Will do. Hey, turn your location on for me and Wes, okay? Be safe, thanks again,” Paul hangs up the phone before you can say goodbye, and within seconds you’re crawling out of bed and putting your pants back on. Your stomach growls as you realize you fell asleep without eating anything. You make a plan to make a quick trip to the pharmacy, deliver Josh his medicine, then go back out to find something to eat before you end up eating the bag of peanuts you stuffed in your bag on the plane.
You take a second to check your messages, finding you have three unread messages from Ruth. In the mess and confusion of the day, and the time difference, you’ve been thrown for a loop. You shoot her a quick few texts to let her know you’re alive and well, but you leave out the sweet little detail that you’d shared AirPods with the guitarist of the band you’re touring with. You’d get into that part later.
The walk to the pharmacy is short, thankfully, and you find the things Josh needs without much of an issue at all. The city is still fairly crowded with people at this hour, and you make sure to track your steps backward just the way you came to get back to the hotel. Your stomach rumbles again, and the smells coming from the various restaurants around you have your head spinning with hunger.
A few quiet knocks on Josh’s hotel room door bring him to answer it within seconds, and his warm composure instantly makes you feel welcome. “Y/N! Thank you so much, seriously. I need to knock this shit out before it gets any worse, and I think you just saved the day,’ he gushes as you see clouds of steam pouring out of his cracked bathroom door, and smell the sweet scent of herbal fragrances as they waft through your nose. “You have any trouble finding the place? Google said it was close by…”
“Anytime, Josh. And no, actually. It was right around the corner,” you answer, handing him the bag of meds.
“Good. Well I won’t bother you again, you heading to sleep?” he asks with a warm tone.
You bite the inside of your lip as your stomach screams at you again. “No, I passed a little pub on my walk, and it smelled amazing as I walked by. Think I’m gonna go have a drink and get something to eat. I’m starving.”
“Go feed yourself, love. Enjoy the city. We’ve got a long day tomorrow!”
“Will do, see you tomorrow!” you say as he closes the door.
“Thanks again! See ya!”
You make your way to the elevator and down to the bottom floor, digging your phone out of your pocket to check your location and make sure the pub is still going to be open at this hour. A quick search for Le Marmitone tells you the kitchen doesn’t close for another hour, so you pick up your pace and head straight for the pub.
The wind and rain have picked up a little bit, and you thank yourself for adding a few layers on before you left your hotel room earlier. The cold air bites at your cheeks as you meander through the people still out walking the streets, and the smell of the food drifting on the wind draws you straight back to the pub. Upon entering the double doors, you find that it is actually a nice restaurant with a bar.
You grab a seat at the corner of the bar, glancing to the coolers and shelves to see what your drink options are.
“Evening madame, here is a menu. Can I get you a beverage?” a man in a sport coat asks as he hands you the shiny white menu. His accent is thick, but you can understand him fairly easily.
“Hello. Could I have a whiskey soda and a water, please?” you ask as you remove your heavy jacket and hang it over the back of the stool. You look over the menu choices and decide on a bowl of soup and a sandwich, more of a lunch option, but a steaming hot bowl of soup sounds exactly like what you need right now.
There are a few people still scattered throughout the restaurant, most closing their tabs and leaving for the night. There are a few patrons still at the bar, stuck in conversations with one another or watching whatever game is playing on the big screen.
The bartender sets your drinks in front of you as you tell him your food order, and you pull out your phone to begin fishing through emails and making your daily checklists. The Whiskey drink is strong, but not too strong, and you let yourself enjoy the immediate warmth it sends coursing through your veins.
You fill your stomach up as far as it will allow you, and you decide that one more drink probably won’t hurt, as the place doesn’t close up for another hour. You’re enjoying yourself, basking in the calm before the storm that is going to hit promptly at 10AM tomorrow.
“‘Scuse me, sir. I’ll take one more drink and my check, please,” you alert the bartender. He nods and turns to concoct your drink and print your tab. When he returns, he plops a bright red maraschino cherry onto the top.
“Gentleman at the end of the bar says this one is on him, ma’am.” He places the white slip of paper in front of you as he removes your dishes, and disappears. Your eyes slowly drift to the left, landing on an older gentleman who had been lingering at the end of the bar since you’d gotten here. His friends have since left, leaving him to finish off a few more rounds by himself.
He smiles hard when you notice him, and slides off his stool, stumbling his way toward you. You feel your heart rate pick up as he approaches you, and you remember that you do have mace in your purse, should you need it, Ruth’s one request.
“Hello, lovely. Enjoy that drink on me this evening,” he slurs with a heavy accent. He sits down in the stool beside you, and suddenly you’d rather not have that second drink, after all. You glance at the drink, and back to him, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in his presence.
“Um, thank you, really. But I—I’ve actually got to go. It’s getting to be later than I thought…” you lie, pulling out some cash from your purse to pay the bill.
“Nonsense! Have the drink, beautiful. Tell me, where are you from? Your accent tells me it’s somewhere far away from here…” he presses, pushing the drink toward you. His hands are giant, and covered in dark hair. He has a beard of the same color that reaches almost down to his stomach, and you can smell the alcohol radiating from his breath.
“The States,” you say bluntly, avoiding eye contact with him as the bartender is nowhere to be found. You immediately kick yourself for not telling Dean where you had run off to, all by yourself. You know better than this.
“Obviously, sweetheart. But where?” he asks.
“Um, a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it,” you go on, beginning to pull your jacket on and leave the money on the bar top. Suddenly the man’s hand is on the back of the stool, holding it steady as you try to turn it.
“I’d like to hear all about it, love,” he growls, and you suddenly feel very intimidated. There is no one else around, no other patrons at the bar, you couldn’t feel the presence of another human or employee running about, and you contemplated making a run for it.
“I promise I’m not here to scare you, just talk. That’s all I’d like to do…” he goes on, backing his hand away from the chair as he notices your panic. Finally, the bartender makes his way back, but instead of taking your check, he continues cleaning and re-stocking for the night. You’re alone, and uncomfortable. Why did you do this to yourself?
Suddenly you remember that Jake put his number in your phone. You know you can’t get a hold of Dean at this hour, especially since you didn’t tell him you were going anywhere. You can’t make that bad of a first impression before your first day even really happens.
You quickly turn your attention to your phone, trying to figure out what to do, but then it hits you. You type in the name, taking a deep breath before sending Jake a risky text as a last ditch effort.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone, hmm?” the man asks as you turn away from him to type as quickly as you can.
You
1:47AM: Jake, are you awake?
Your foot taps nervously on the floor, the man next to you doing everything in his power to corner you into this seat. A text bounces back after a minute, and you feel your shoulders relax just a touch.
Jake 🗡
1:49AM: How did you get this number?
You
1:50AM: You put it in my phone today on the plane. Are you busy?
Jake 🗡
1:51AM: Oh, hey. No, I’m just getting ready to go to bed, why what’s up? You okay?
You
1:52AM: No. I don’t think so. I hate to ask this, I know it’s late. Is there any way you could come meet me? I left to get something to eat and didn't tell anyone and this guy here has me cornered into my seat and I don't think he is gonna let me leave alone.
Jake 🗡
1:53AM: Share your location, I’m leaving now.
You
1:54AM: Thank you. I owe you.
“Did you hear me sweetheart? I said, are you expecting someone?” the man asks, a sly grin on his face as he leans closer to you.
You quickly glance back down at your phone, sharing your location with Jake and hoping he can find you. You lock your phone and put it in your purse, pretending you’re a lot less anxious than you actually are.
“Actually, yes, I am. My…boyfriend is on his way. He’ll be here in just a second.” you lie, doing your best to speak confidently. “I should probably step outside to meet him.”
“No, no, stay, you haven’t touched your drink,” he says, gesturing to the glass of alcohol. “I know a place down the street, stays open late, too.”
You feel your skin start to grow clammy, the man's intentions suddenly becoming very clear. Your heart is pounding as you try to talk your way out of the situation. You clear your throat, and just as you start to speak you see the front door of the restaurant open. Jake steps inside, looking side to side, his eyes quickly scanning the entirety of the restaurant until he locks eyes with you.
He nods to the host at the door as he walks toward you, wearing the same clothes from earlier but now his hair is a little messier. You know he got out of bed to do this.
You instantly stand from your seat as Jake steps up, reaching towards him as he settles himself between you and the man.
“Hey baby, you finally made it,” you coo, your pleading eyes locked on Jake’s as he wraps his arm around your shoulder in a welcoming hug. You can smell him, the cologne lingering on his coat. The same coat that was wrapped around you only hours ago.
He pulls away and drops his arms to his side as you turn to him. You stare at him just a second longer, hoping he can hear the words you are screaming in your mind. He blinks and turns to look at the man before letting his eyes flick back to you.
“Yeah, yeah, of course babe, sorry I was late,” he pauses, turning to face the drunk man beside him. “Who is this?”
You let out a small breath of relief as he silently agrees to play along with you. “Oh, he came over from the bar. He sent this drink over, but I just can’t drink it. I already had one and you know I work in the morning,” you answer, hoping he is understanding what you’re trying to say. “Do you want it?”
He looks so effortless standing there with a hand in his jacket pocket. He tilts his head and scrunches his nose just a bit before answering, “Ahh, nah…It looks like a watered down well pour and I just had one myself before I got here. I’m alright. We should probably get going though, we have an early day tomorrow and it’s fairly late already.”
Yes.
“Oh, you two are terrible liars. He isn’t your boyfriend, is he sweetheart?” the man asks, scoffing at Jake. “You should come with me, I can show you the city better than this fool.”
“That’s an awfully brazen assumption, sir, I must say.” Jake argues, pulling his hand from his coat pocket and grabbing yours. You suck in a harsh breath feeling his fingers lace with yours. Fake or not, there was definitely a new feeling swirling through your veins.
“Look at her, she’s flustered. This woman hasn’t ever been touched by you. It’s written all over her face.” he continues, looking Jake over.
“Your boyfriend, your husband, he isn’t any of those things. I don’t see a ring on your finger, and I don’t know how they do things where you’re from, but in this country, you my dear, are fair game.”
You want to snap back. The audacity is astounding. You start to step forward, ready to lay into him, but you feel Jake’s hand squeeze yours and you know he’s telling you to follow his lead this time.
“She is with me, sir,” Jake spits. “And it would be in your best interest to back off.”
“Oh, is that right?” the man counters, standing up from his seat, giving him a few good inches over Jake. Jake didn’t falter though. Of course he didn’t. He knew that didn’t matter.
“Kiss her, then. If she’s yours, kiss her,” he quips.
“Absolutely not, I don’t have to prove anything to you, and quite frankly sir, it’s none of your business,” Jake snaps, you can tell he’s starting to get mad, his hand gripping yours a little harder. “Let’s go, babe.”
You stand firm next to him, not letting your face show a single waiver of emotion as the man waits to see if you’ll crack. Jake starts to walk away pulling you behind him, but before you can move the man grabs your other arm, taking both of you by surprise.
“Stay, sugar. Let a real man take you home.”
Jake snaps his head around, hearing the words fall from the man's drunken mouth. For a minute you’re scared. You don’t know how Jake is going to react, his jaw is hard set and his nostrils flared in anger. You hear him curse under his breath as he shakes his head.
“You know what? Fuckin’ fine…” he challenges, looking at the man then to you, nodding just enough for you to notice.
Just as you feel the anxiety of what he is about to do bloom in your chest, he reads your body language, letting a sweet and quiet ‘S’okay’ slip from his lips.
Your eyes widen a little as you realize what’s about to happen, but take solace in the fact that he’s likely just as nervous as you are. He stops, pulling you in towards him as his hand grabs at your waist.
His fingers grip into your hairline as he tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes over your lips, hot and wet as your hands slide up his body to rest on his chest. You kiss him back, you’re trying to sell this as the real thing, but also partly because you just want to. You try not to think about that part too much as you let your tongue flick against his just for a second before pulling it back. You feel the vibration on your lips as the softest groan leaves his mouth just as he pulls away from you.
Your lips are wet with the taste of him and your chest is heaving as Jake rubs his lips together and clears his throat. He turns to the man who is standing there staring at the two of you, a bit of challenge in his tone as he speaks. “You good now?”
The man scoffs, mumbling a curse as he bats at the air between you. You feel yourself relax in Jake’s grip as the man turns to walk back to his original place at the bar. A quiet ‘fuck’ leaves Jake’s mouth as he turns his attention back to you, stepping back and releasing his grip on you.
His eyes search yours just as yours search his, both of you unsure what to say. Instead he looks over to the man again, nodding his head to him as he grabs your hand again and guides you towards the door.
“You okay?” he asks, opening the door and letting you walk out into the drizzle. You pull your jacket closed across your front, the cold air chilling your skin.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Thank you– for that,” you murmur as he steps up next to you. He grabs your hand again, lacing his warm fingers with your cold ones, taking you by surprise.
“Oh, it’s okay now Jake, he isn’t following us,” you offer, looking over your shoulder to check. He doesn’t drop your hand though, in fact you feel his fingertips brush across your knuckles, sending a whole different kind of chill through your body.
“I know,” he answers, smiling shyly as he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re positive he can see the blush that has taken over your cheeks, your mouth suddenly dry, and your mind unable to form a response. You feel the butterflies swirling around in your stomach as you walk towards the hotel, the rain starting to taper off finally.
“You can trust me, you know,” he says, his voice sincere as he guides you around puddles.
“I barely know you, Jake,” you smile, bumping your shoulder into his.
“For now,” he answers, squeezing your hand in his.
He opens the door to the hotel lobby, the warm air instantly hitting you. Jake drops your hand, your fingertips brushing against his. You kind of miss it, in a way you definitely shouldn’t be.
“Thank you again, for doing all of that. I’m really sorry. I fucked up, I won’t make that mistake again,” you say, watching him press the button for the elevator. Your eyes linger on his lips, a little pink from the cold air outside.
“It was no problem, I promise. Stop apologizing,” he pauses, motioning for you to step into the elevator. “Let me walk you to your room, what floor?” he asks, his finger hovering over the buttons.
“Oh, no it’s really okay, you don’t have to do that. I promise I’m good now,” you stammer, watching his lips turn up in a huff of laughter.
“Y/N, what floor?”
“Nine,” you squeak, your eyes fixated on the dimple in his cheek. You feel your skin growing warm just from looking at him, you feel like you might burst into flames just at the thought of how his lips felt on yours. Did you imagine that whole encounter? No way all of that just happened.
“Me as well,” he says, pressing the button as the doors close.
The two of you ride up in silence, casting each other the occasional glance every few seconds. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you're positive you stopped breathing. The elevator chimes as it reaches the ninth floor, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound.
He smiles at you again as the doors open, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him. “Your room number?”
“Um, I think I'm 924, all the way down,” you answer, your heart jumping in your chest.
He nods his head and puts a hand into his pocket. “Alright, I’m just up here in 915, but I’ll walk you down.”
“Jake you really don’t have to, you can just–”
He turns to you and laughs, shaking his head again. “Just let me.”
“Fine.” You huff a breath, pulling your own keycard from your purse. He walks only a step behind you, both hands in his pockets now as you step up to your door. You tap your key to the lock and hear it beep, signaling for you to enter. You turn to look at Jake, seeing a softness to his face you hadn’t noticed until now.
“Thank you, for…being such a gentleman,” you say playfully, smiling at him.
“My pleasure, Miss Y/N. There is some chivalry left in the world…” he answers, bringing his hand up to rub at his lips.
You start to enter your room, and hear him speak again, this time very quietly. “We’re not all bad.”
You turn around to see him shifting his weight still rubbing his fingers over his chin as if he expected you not to hear him.
“What?”
He hesitates as he makes eye contact with you, clearly shocked you heard him. You can tell he wants to say something but he’s holding back. Maybe you’ve spooked him.
He shakes his head with a smile, as if telling himself whatever he wanted to say was stupid. He pulls his phone and his keycard from his pocket and grips them in his hand. “Nothing, nothing, um, have a good evening. I will see you in the morning, I suppose.”
You nod once, giving him a sweet and appreciative smile, “See you in the morning.”
He lingers for just a moment, eyes locked on yours before flicking down to your lips. He catches himself and looks back at you before turning to head down the hallway. You shut the hotel room door and twist the lock, letting out the breath you had been holding with a gasp.
You spin around, letting your back press against the door as you sink down to the floor with a barely audible squeal. Holy. Shit. What the hell was that?
Pull yourself together Y/N.
You grab your purse and stand up, digging through it as fast as you can in search of your phone. You have no earthly idea what time it is in Nashville but you don’t care as you pull up your texts with Ruth, and begin furiously typing.
You
2:34AM: Without going into detail I definitely just kissed the guitarist 🫢
You toss your bag onto the chair and change into your pajamas, your blood still rushing around in your body as you try to calm your nervous system. A text bounces back, and you know it’s her.
Ruth
2:40AM: WITHOUT GOING INTO DETAIL???? KISSED? I just got to my desk!!!! I’m here. I’m sat. I’m listening. I want every single detail in a five paragraph essay with MLA formatting.
You
2:42AM: Lol it is 2:40 in the morning. I will call you tomorrow, which is really still today for you, but kinda tomorrow for me? I don’t know this is confusing but I will call you and give you the full run down because we also shared airpods on the plane and he made me a playlist? Love you goodnight!
Ruth
2:44AM: AIRPODS? A PLAYLIST??????
2:45AM: Y/N NO! GET BACK HERE
2:45AM: Okay. Hang on, I’m googling him. I need to see this man’s face
2:46AM: Wait there’s two guitarists
2:46AM: Ok one is the bassist HELLO?? You kissed HIM?! Aldjsfklsk
2:48AM: It’s totally fine and I am being so normal about this. Talk to you later, if I haven’t pulled all my hair out by then! I’ll be creeping his insta all day! Goodnight!
You laugh as you read her onslaught of messages, knowing that she is likely going out of her mind with possible scenarios. You make your way into the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth so that you can positively melt into the bed and sleep until your alarm forces you awake. You’re patting your face dry as your phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, but the noise it makes isn’t one you’re familiar with. You hang the towel on the ring and pick up your phone, seeing a notification come through that is brand new to you.
‘Jake Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’
He what?
Now?
Your blood runs cold just seeing his name on your phone after…well…whatever that was.
You turn off the bathroom light, hesitantly sliding your finger across the notification, and letting it bring up the playlist. There at the very bottom you see that a new song was added two minutes ago. But not just any song, no. You know this one. You know this one well. You tap on the song hearing the familiar and haunting guitar riff of ‘Kiss Me’ by Sixpence None the Richer start to play through your phone speakers.
You can’t help but to laugh, a smile of shock has your jaw hanging wide open as you stand in your giant fancy hotel room, listening to what you consider to be a fairly romantic song sent straight to you from none other than your knight in shining, well, corduroy, armor. You couldn’t even picture him listening to this song, and somehow that almost made it a little better.
As the chorus plays you fall backwards onto your bed, the fluffy white sheets enveloping you as a giddy feeling swirls through your chest. He’s thinking about me. He’s thinking about that kiss. You felt guilty for thinking about it, but now? Now you weren’t feeling so guilty. He liked it just as much as you did, clearly.
Jake Kiszka liked kissing you.
You.
What?
You couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off of your face if you had to. You didn’t want to. This was quite possibly the most thrilling thing that has happened to you in months. Years! You had all but forgotten about creepy bar man at this point, but god you have half a mind to walk right back into that bar and shake his hand.
But, you knew you had to calm down. Take a breath. The song came to a close, leaving the hotel room silent. Your mind was still swimming in bliss, replaying the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his hands held yours, the way he smelled, the way his lips tasted, oh god… He was thinking about your kiss. He all but told you so.
You were also thinking about that kiss. He wanted you to know he was thinking about it. How can you– Oh. A sly grin spreads across your face as you type into the search bar.
You find the song you’re looking for, your thumb hovering over the add button as you try to talk yourself out of doing this. It could end badly, terribly, really. He is technically your boss, and you know you shouldn’t be doing this, but. Hey, you’re just the runner. You smile as you watch the little box pop up reading ‘Added’.
Your heart starts to pound. Did he get a notification? Is he asleep? Did he see it? Will he understand? Since when did you start communicating with people through song titles?
You rush back to the playlist scrolling to the bottom and smiling as you press play on the new addition to your shared playlist. It's mere seconds before ‘Do It Again’ by Steely Dan starts to play and you laugh, knowing you are absolutely crazy. Do it again, of course you wanted to do it again. God he probably thinks you’re such a loser. Plot twist, you are, but he doesn't have to know that yet.
You listen to the song, plugging your phone into the charger and turning off the lamp. You’ve always loved Steely Dan, it reminds you of your dad, but then again who doesn’t it remind of their dad? The song comes to a close, your giddy feeling finally starting to wear off as the exhaustion starts to step into its place. Your eyes feel heavy as you roll towards the nightstand to set your alarm, groaning at how soon it’s coming. You lock your phone and settle into the pillows, letting out a content sigh as you recap the day in all of its insane glory.
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the glow illuminating the room for just a brief second. You freeze as you stare up at the ceiling, almost too scared to look. Did he add another song? What if he changed his mind? What if you overstepped? Oh god. You should not have done that. What were you thinking?
You suck in a breath as you grab your phone, nervously tapping the screen that shows no new songs added, but a text from Jake.
Jake 🗡
3:04AM: I fully intend to.
Oh, he definitely saw it.
.
.
.
.
.
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Can we get some headcanons of Jeff t.K. in a relationship? ^^
Dating Jeff The Killer Would Be Like This:
A/N: Well, this is a long overdue request, hope the wait was worth it 🙃 I’m going to be waiting for you all at least twice a week from now on, and there are a few spaces left for requests if you want to get yours in for Jeff and others now if you're interested 🔪 This is the original creepypasta Jeff, but I could try writing for David Near's version too if anyone's wondering... enjoy.
🔪• Well damn, there's a lot to include for this crazy son of a biatch, so get ready-
🔪• It's an uncomfortable night, the skies outside pitch black, stars clouded over and your curtains ruffling as you glare tiredly at the ceiling, wishing for sleep to overtake you. But there's just something that's keeping you half-aware, something that makes you toss and turn for a while, eyeing the window with a furrow of your brows. It's almost like someone's watching your every move. You just can't see them.
🔪• Until that whispering, hoarse voice pierces through the still silence from behind your curtains, making your eyes widen in horror at the sadistic chuckling that only gets nearer as you will your body to move from its frozen position.
🔪• The tip of his blade skims across the skin off your face before you can make out his own, pale and deathly and twisted with a nasty, deeply cut grin etched up his cheeks. His cold blue eyes linger over your features, and it’s a frustrating and vulnerable feeling knowing that can read you a lot better than you can him. It’s a tense few moments when all you feel is the end of the sharp dagger trace just light enough down a cheek and your lips, resting there for a second, as if he’s thinking.
🔪• Jeff doesn’t keep you alive just because you’re you - he doesn’t know who you are, or why you look, in his eyes, almost as beautiful as he does. But it makes him curious and confused, something he’s not used to and doesn’t particularly like at first. So with a scoff, the knife is suddenly snatched away, replaced with his face right down next to yours, with a “go to sleep~” and sudden darkness.
🔪• It’s a wonder to you when you wake up the next morning unharmed. It’s unheard of for the infamous killer to let his victims go, but after that night, it’s clear to you that what you experienced wasn’t some sort of weird nightmare. You feel eyes on you almost every minute of the day, footsteps that aren’t your own following you when you’re by yourself, shadows in the hall that turned out to be nothing…
🔪• The only times Jeff will make his appearances where you can actually see and talk to him is at night. At first, it's kind of to see how you'll react - scared and screaming panicking like the others, or oddly curious and mildly apprehensive - if you show the latter, he'll definitely be caught if guard, because he's used to the screaming and crying. But even if you do panic and start some weird chase scene around your house, Jeff seems to find it amusing, until he's had enough and corners you, hissing in your ear, "would you calm the hell down doll, you don't wanna wake the whole damn street, now do you?"
🔪• And you're like yes?!?? Because a scarred maniac is in my room and getting blood stains over my non-washable flooring??! Or maybe that's just me
🔪• This boy can be an absolute mystery to anyone who manages to survive him, because they never really figure out the solid reason why, or his whole backstory, his intentions, etc. All they know is that he's a killer who preys on young people at the night and disappears in the morning. Some survive him because they're interesting for a while, and die when they're not anymore. Some remind him of his past self, and on a bad day, he remembers how much he hates that and gets rid of them too. Some are just to play around with. And then there's you.
🔪• Jeff doesn't give you much of a reason either when you question his motives, because at first, he can't even be sure of why he's ket you around. Is it because you're pretty? Somehow different from his other victims? It's not because he's gone soft. The whole thought process ends up frustrating him, so he'll storm out the window to be alone and try taking his mind off it by going after some whiny targets. But still, he keeps thinking about the question, about you, watching him in some kind of awe and confusion. Why do you care? Why does he care?!
🔪• This whole thing is not some fast-paced cliche love story where everything's sappy and sweet and he'll kill everyone but you. He's still the infamous Jeff The Killer. But that doesn't mean he isn't a little soft for you. Just don't point it out, or he gets flustered and defensive.
🔪• At one point, he wanted to just kidnap you and have you with him all the time, but you had to put your foot down and promise to stick around every night for him to come and go as he pleases, which calmed him down. Because, yeah, that's not happening Jeff, calm yourselffff
🔪• It ends up being him popping in almost every night, with you learning to keep your windows open so you don’t have to keep on replacing the forced-in smashed glass. And even when he visits, it takes time for him to reveal himself, little by little, until you can make out all the rough burns and dried blood that blemish practically every inch of his skin. It's not that he's all insecure - he thinks he’s beautiful most days, and he’s not trying to make you feel less scared by his appearance, because him being the jackass that he is, finds jump scaring you funny.
🔪• But he can have bad days, days where he can't stop thinking about his brother and parents and all that made him who he is, and when that happens, he either bearly says anything and sulks with his knives in the corner of your room, and pretty much lets you do anything. Like, you could end up playing and studying his knives - he watches apprehensively at first, all ready for you to try to stab him in the back - but after time goes by and you've given up questioning yourself as to why you're letting a cold-blooded murderer hang out with you almost every night in your room, he sees that you're not trying to defend yourself in those extreme measures, so kind of lets you do your thing.
🔪• It's nice for him to have the company, too, and he enjoys the small conversations he has with you: the nosy, lucky, pretty little survivor who asks too many questions about him and has a smile that's almost as good as his. Him being him offers to carve one in, and still jokingly tries to while you fight him off with a string of curses. He can be really annoying when he wants to, because he finds your reactions cute. If, on the extremely rare occasions, you happen to see him before it goes dark, doing your homework or something, he'll try drawing on the paper or mucking around with your stuff to distract you. If you're watching something, he'll spoil the ending or give a stupid running commentary. If you annoy him back by any means you can, Jeff gets all pouty and frustrated, but it's also sort of endearing to him??
🔪• So he'll be all "are you freaking stupid, or just suicidal, antagonising a serial killer?!" but he can't help scoffing at you in some form of fondness that he hasn't even realised has been growing in him
🔪• When he ultimately realises that hey! you're stalking and killing the bullies of and are increasingly obsessing over this person, it takes him a bit of time to process. He might not show up on that night, wanting to get his thoughts straight, leaving you very confused, but Jeff does show up the next night wanting you to shut up and sit down and listen to him, because he doesn't want to make this any weirder than it feels for him. You'll hardly understand what he's getting at when he spurts out how you're different and he doesn't really believe in fate but something feels right and every Clyde needs his Bonnie and random crap like that 😂
🔪• You'll have to cut him off with a "so are you asking me out?" and he's like "well... yeah, duh. Don't even think about saying no, because you're not getting rid of me, even if you want to, alright?!?" You can tell he's uncharacteristically nervous. So when you've assessed the situation and see that there's no more harm than there already has been to saying yes, there's an unreadable look of shock and something more in his stony eyes. Then his grin is back, and he's annoying you again by whirling you around in the air and stuff, and boom! You're never getting rid of the maniac. He's yours. Congratulations.
🔪• I'm gonna be honest with you; dating Jeff The Killer is definitely not the easiest mountain you chose to climb, but at the end of the day, if all you want is his manic, obsessive love and devotion to you, then it's well worth it. Take the amount of obsessiveness and stalker behaviour he's shown to you as a weird-ass friend and multiply it by a thousand. I'm not kidding.
🔪• Jeff The Killer genuinely cares about those who have somehow made it to that point with him, and as you're at the top of that list, damn, you'll be spoiled. Don't ask him where he gets all the jewels and trinkets and things you've been wanting or that match your hobbies and talents, because they're yours, and they've always been yours. So your welcome, enjoy, he knew you'd like it. That's one way he shows his love. It's kind of like a way of saying that he's always thinking about you, which isn't an exaggeration at all. I can definitely imagine him killing for you with pride and bringing back a heart all casual-like, while you shake your head with an awkward smile.
🔪• "That's, uh, sweet of you, Jeff, but seriously, throw it away now, that's rank."
🔪• No one else catches his eye after you, too. He's never met someone truly beautiful, inside and out, before you, and he's convinced he won't after. So if someone tries to beg for their life or give him compliments he used to like, it's pretty much ineffective now. "You'll ever be as hot as my doll is, you sadass, but here, I'll carve a little something to get you halfway there~"
🔪• He can actually be surprisingly sweet when he wants to. On his bad days, now he'll just lean into you in silence and twirl his blade around, while you play with his hair or put something on TV or somehow end up staring at him. If you look closer and beyond the chalky white shade of his burnt skin and the deep, bloody scars that trace up from his lips, you can notice how he probably was a good-looking boy before the 'accident.' But don't let him catch you looking, because, bad mood or not, he's a cocky bastard, and will end up grinning and saying something like "it's rude to stare, dolly," which ruins the moment lmao
🔪• Jeff can also get clingy when he feels like it too, though he'll never admit it. He likes how your body's always warm when he is somehow always freezing, and being able to have time alone with you, where you're all his, and no one can take it away from him. He'll go freaking rabid if anyone tries, and no one wants that.
🔪• He gets a little awkward when it comes to comfort and opening up, but he'll get there. He learns from you to just give you a silent hug instead of patting you on the back and telling you to chin up or something stupid, or tries to make you laugh, or kills the thing that's getting you down, if you let him. That's your decision 🙃
🔪• He eventually opens up to you about his past, too, which takes him a lot of courage and a lot of patience for you. It's good that you know, though, because it's something to be even closer about, and the more you know about each other, the more you belong together. At least, that's Jeff's logic.
🔪• Jeff can be a bit possessive and sulky when those moments have to end in the mornings, and he's been known to just shove his white hoodie over your head and demand you wear it when he's not with you. Which is fine, Jeff, but seriously, clean that blood of it first.
🔪• But when all is said and done, no matter how heartless and cold and crazy he may seem, and undoubtedly is, he's sane enough to know that he loves you. His love can be ridiculously intense and overwhelming at times, but you can learn to work around or with it. He will do it. Whether anyone believes it or not, him and you knowing your love is enough for Jeff.
#jeff the killer#jeff the killer x reader#jeff the killer imagines#jeff the killer x y/n#jeff the killer fanfic#jeff the killer fluff#jeff the killer x you#creepypasta x reader#yandere x reader#yandere fanfiction#creepypasta#creepy pasta#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta blog#creepypasta jeff the killer#creepypasta jtk#jtk x reader#jtk headcanons#creeypasta#ticci toby#slenderman#ben drowned#eyeless jack#creepypasta fandom#creepypastas#jeffery woods
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#jeff the killer#crp#creepypasta smut#creepypasta#creepypasta art#creepypasta fanart#creepypasta fandom#my art#slender mansion#slenderman proxy#art dump#sketches#jtk fanart#jtk#creepypasta jtk#jtk x reader#jtk smut#hes number 1
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WARNINGS 、NONCON, CHOKING, SIZE KINK, CERVIX FUCKING, DEGRADATION
NOTE 、ignore spelling errors and whatnot. i literally dont even have time to format this properly rn sorry </3 this is lowkey shit so im sorry again LMAO
You don’t know if it’s possible, but Jeff Mason found a way to completely turn your brain off. Your tongue is lolled out, eyes rolled back into your skull as you babble out whimpers and begs and incoherent slurs of his name hanging off your seemingly numb wet muscle. However he is proud of the state you’re in because of him. After all, you were his whether you liked it or not.
“Nothin’ but a dumb fuckin’ slut, huh?” He breathes out with a smirk, breath hot against your neck and his body caging yours against the soft blankets and sheets of your bed. He’s so much bigger, so much stronger than you that despite your efforts to wriggle away from his painfully good thrusts, he keeps you locked in place with his large hands gripping your waist tight enough to leave marks. “That’s right, just a needy cocksleeve, hm? Too dumb to think, just made to take my cock. Isn’t that right, doll?”
You can’t reply, he knows you’re unable to fathom a single response in that fucked dumb head of yours. Yet he still talks to you in a mocking tone, grinning sinisterly at your glassy eyes as you cling to the sheets and gasp loudly in between “ah”s and “omph”s that fall from your bruised lips.
“J-Jef— haah! Jeff—” “Such a whiney bitch, huh? Never shutting that whore mouth’ve yours.” He hisses out, slamming into you impossibly harder and making you scream out until your throat is scratchy and burns. A hand wraps tight around your neck much like a snake would constrict around its prey, cutting off your airflow entirely and causing panic to mix with pleasure and pain. It’s all blurred lines for you, fingers digging into the skin of his wrist as tears fall down your face and his tip brutally kisses against your soft cervix making your gut tighten with overwhelming warmth.
“Gonna cum? Already?” He sneers, tilting his head as black strands tickle against your exposed collarbones. You wish you could talk back, you wish you had the energy and dignity to not behave like a god damn pornstar. “Didn’t know y’were such a cheap whore.” He chuckles, humiliating you further as your walls flutter tight and milk his thick girth as your juices web out and leave a creamy ring around the base of his cock.
However he doesn’t stop, he keeps going and it’s too much to handle. You cry out once more, begging in such a sweet and pathetic voice that it would’ve worked on someone else— anybody else, besides Jeff.
“Expected me to stop?” He laughs, cock twitching against your walls and he’s so close you wonder how he hasn’t caved already. His hand releases your poor neck allowing you to breath right as black spots started to prickle the corners of your vision and your lungs were burning from lack of air. “You don’t get a break, slut. Now shut up and take it.”
#jeff the killer x reader#jeff the killer smut#creepypasta smut#creepypasta x you#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x female reader#jtk x reader#jeff mason x reader#jeff mason smut
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Lips Like Sugar/j.t.k
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader
Word Count: 3465
Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI 18+ drinking, protective jake, touching, fingering, edging, oral (m+f receiving), food play(?), unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!), butt stuff, soft aftercare jake
PLEASE LMK IF I MISSED ANY WARNINGS
A/N: this fic was a collab with @starcaughtsam she sent me the sauce and i wrote this ;)
~~~~~~~~~~~🖤~~~~~~~~~~~
The cool autumn air sends chills across your barely covered legs as you walk up the driveway, hand in hand with your lover. The music is so loud that you can feel it rumbling the ground beneath your boots. Jake reaches for the handle and gives you a peck on the forehead before opening the door.
“Y/N! Jack! Looking good!” Your ex-coworker, the host, James greets you at the door dressed as a vampire.
“It’s- Jake…” Jake reaches his hand out, to which he’s completely ignored.
“Whatever you say, big guy.” James moves his gaze to you, looking up and down. “And what are you guys supposed to be?”
“Oh, Jake and I are pirates.” You smile wide pointing between the two of you, resting your head on Jake’s shoulder.
“Hm. Imagined the skirt to be a little… longer.” James shrugs his shoulders.
You let out an awkward giggle as Jake pulls you closer to his side, walking with you towards the kitchen for drinks. James turns to watch you from the doorway.
“Here, baby.” Jake hands you a cracked Topo Chico, grabbing one for himself.
“No whiskey?”
“Keeping it light, gotta drive.” He places his hand at the small of your back, guiding you to the crowd of dancing bodies.
The two of you were never big on dancing, instead finding your way to the opposite side of the crowd, plopping onto an old couch. You cross one leg over the other, ankle resting on Jake’s thigh. He places his free hand on your calf and rubs soft circles with his thumb. You share a few drinks over the course of an hour, keeping casual conversation and innocent touching. Jake had cut himself off after three drinks so he could drive, but encouraged you to have some fun.
“Feelin’ good, doll?” Jake asks, bringing his cool hand to your reddened cheek.
“Very good.” You smile stupidly with half lidded eyes.
“Would you like another drink?”
“Mm, maybe one more.” You reach to grab his hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.
“I’ll be back.” He gives you a kiss on your temple as he gets up to get you another drink.
He saunters into the kitchen, you watch him like he’s the only one in the crowded room. In a sea of costumes, your pirate is all that exists. He makes sure you’re watching before he cracks open another seltzer, licking the foam off the side of the can, undressing you with his eyes. It’s taking everything in you not to touch yourself under his gaze, slick pooling in your panties. You’re snapped from your trance as James emerges from seemingly nowhere, taking Jake’s place on the couch.
“Hey, Y/N. Where’s John? He leave?” James places his arm on the back of the couch as if he’s going to wrap it around you.
“Jake? No, he’s right there.” You point at Jake, who’s standing at the counter looking at you.
Jake trusts you, only watching for any signs of discomfort. You smile and wave at him, earning a little smirk and wave back.
“I don’t get why you’re with him. He seems like a dick.”
“I’m sorry?” You rip your eyes away from Jake to look at James.
“He seriously can’t be that good.” James inches closer to you, reaching his hand toward your knee.
You look back over to Jake who’s now making his way back to the couch empty handed.
“Not that it’s your business, but I can assure you he’s perfect at everything.” You move your leg away from his reach.
Jake finally makes it over to the couch, your knight in shining armor.
“That’s my spot.” Jake points to where James is seated.
“Move your meat, lose your seat.” James remarks.
“What are you fucking twelve, bro? Move.”
“See? Told you he was a dick, Y/N.”
You reach for Jake’s waist, hoping to diffuse the situation before it gets ugly, fast. “Baby, I’m getting tired.” You whine, dipping your thumb into his belt loop.
Diffuse the situation, Y/N. Diffuse.
“Already? I was just getting ready to start a game. Can’t have Halloween without candy!” James tries his best to persuade you, but he’s painfully unsuccessful in his attempts.
You look up at Jake through lustful eyes, images of him in the kitchen playing through your head like a melody.
“It’s up to you, my love.” Jake gently squeezes your hand in reassurance, looking down at you with his brown doe eyes.
You pull yourself up from the couch and stand in front of him, leaning over to whisper into his ear.
“I wanna go home. I have something for you.” You trail away, leaving a kiss below his ear.
“Mm, getting tired, myself. Think we’re gonna go home.” Jake pulls you into him by your waist, sliding his hand down to cup your ass before placing a kiss on your jawline. “Besides, with someone as sweet as her? Who fuckin’ needs candy?”
“Really?” James sucks his teeth, shooting Jake a dirty look.
“Awh, stop being such a downer.” Jake chides as he pulls you away with him, heading for the door.
The car ride is filled with teasing touches, his hand constantly alluding to something more but never giving into your desires.
“Just touch me already!” You tug his hand towards your center, hoping he’ll cave.
He shakes his head and gives in, he’s never been one to restrain himself from pleasure. Jake runs his calloused fingertips up and down your leg until chill bumps rise on your soft skin. His fingers carefully dance along the expanse of your thigh before sliding them under your skirt, meeting with the hem of your panties. He pushes the lacy fabric to the side, running his fingers through your folds before curling his digits into you. He presses his thumb against your clit, working languish circles until you teeter the edge.
“You’re soaked, doll. All from me?” Jake questions tenderly, taking his eyes off the road long enough to catch a glimpse of you falling apart under his touch.
Just as your walls start to tighten around his fingers, he removes them leaving you empty and hungry for more.
“Why did you stop?” You ask quietly, redness failing to dissipate from your cheeks.
“Wanna fuck you right, make you feel so good.” He mumbles, bringing his slick coated fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.
You reach your hand over to his visibly hardened length, palming him through his pants. You unzip the zipper and reach your hand past the waistband of his pants and briefs, rubbing the pads of your fingers slowly across his sensitive tip. Jake wraps his hand around your wrist, restraining you from stroking him any longer.
“Don’t, not yet.” His eyes flutter back as he removes your hand from his length.
He locks his fingers in yours before placing a kiss to your knuckles. He holds your hand pressed to his lips for the rest of the ride, the air from his nose tickling your skin. Upon pulling in the driveway, Jake’s barely in park before rushing you both inside. He rustles for the keys, unlocking the door to your shared home. Jake wastes no time getting his hands back on you, pressing his body against yours forcing the door shut behind you. His hands move up and down your body, squeezing and rubbing on all his favorite spots, as he peppers heated kisses on any and all exposed skin.
“Jakeyyy, hold on!”
“Sorry, sorry. You okay, my love?” He pulls away, grabbing your hand as he steps back.
“Yeah, but remember? I have something for you?” You drag him towards the hall closet with you.
“Damn, I’ve been that bad? Gonna lock me in the closet?” He giggles, waiting for your response.
“No, you weirdo. Gotta get something.” You let go of his hand to lightly smack his shoulder before you open the closet door.
You stand on your tippy toes and shuffle around on the top shelf until you find the little black bag you’d tucked away at the start of the month. Jake’s hands rest on your hips to help balance you, his calloused pads gently pressing into your skin.
“You got us matching costumes… so I got us something matching!” You watch the curiosity wash over Jake’s face as you remove the contents from the bag.
CANDY g-string
“We don’t have to, I thought it would be fun for Halloween.” Your voice grows quieter as you watch Jake’s face for some sort of reaction.
Silence washes over the room, the only thing to be heard is the pounding of your heart behind your chest. The nervousness continues to build up until you watch his lips part in response.
“Am I wearing them too…?” He points to the boxes and then to himself.
“Only if you want, I got two incase you did.”
“Do you want me to?”
You wait a second before nodding yes.
“Okay.” He reaches for one of the boxes, inspecting the packaging.
All you can do is stand in disbelief, his willingness to try new things always astounds you.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go, sugar lips.”
You practically run to the room, Jake hot on your heels. You start to open the boxes as Jake gets undressed, handing him a pair of the candy panties.
“Don’t think my dick’s gonna fit in this…” He says, hanging the panties from his index finger.
“Oh, it’s coming right off anyways.”
Jake comes over to you at the edge of the bed, laying you back.
“Let me do it?” He asks, reaching for your pair of candy panties.
“Okay.” You whisper in response.
Jake’s hands trail up your legs, fingertips dragging across your calves and thighs until they slip under your skirt to meet the waistband of your thong resting on your hips. He slips his fingers past the band and leaves them there for a moment. He’s hovering over you, staring into your eyes.
“You okay, Jake?” Your brows furrow.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re just so beautiful, had to take you in for a second.” He leans in and places a few heated kisses to your lips before working his way below your skirt.
Jake places soft kisses to your thighs before removing your thong. He slides them down your legs and off your ankles followed by unzipping your boots and tossing them to the side. He reaches over for your matching pair of candy panties and slides them up your legs, adjusting them over your center. Jake’s kneeling between your legs at the edge of the bed, looking down on you.
“Y’know, these things feel weird.” He giggles, snapping the band of the panties against his hips.
You push yourself up off the bed, meeting his lower abdomen with your face. You pepper kisses across his supple skin, making way to his prominent hip bone. You snake your tongue under the string resting on his hip and pull a piece of the candy between your teeth, biting down to break it free. One of Jake’s hands find their way cupped around the back of your neck as you continue kissing the expanse of his stomach. Center with his navel, you start kissing in a line down his body until your lips are against the candy holding his cock. You adjust your hands to hold onto his hips as you start to break off pieces of the candy covering his length. Each time you go for a piece, you snake your tongue between the candy and his flesh to avoid biting him, the feel of your tongue against his cock earning you soft moans. You bite off a few pieces before you grow impatient, pulling the panties to the side to free his length. You drag your tongue up and down his cock a few times before taking him in your mouth, pushing him as deep as your throat will let him. You get about a minute into pleasing him before he grows hungry for more of you. Jake places his hands on yours, removing them from his hip as he lays you back and puts them above your head.
“My turn, sweetness.” He moves his hand down and unzips your corset, laying it flat on the bed behind you, letting your breasts feel the cool air.
Starting at the hollow of your neck, Jake kisses a trail down the valley of your breasts until he meets your lower stomach. He tucks his thumbs into the panties resting on either of your hips before reattaching his lips to your skin. He lightly bites the soft skin of your tummy, your hands resting on top of his at your hips. Jake bends his wrists back enough to intertwine your fingers with his as his lips work their way down to your center. He brings a piece of candy from the middle into his mouth and breaks it off the string. He uses your hips as support to push himself up, bringing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. He licks his tongue along your bottom lip and slips the piece of candy into your mouth. Lips still on yours, Jake presses his hand over your mound and moves it side to side, stimulating your clit with the hard candy. You lift your legs up and wrap them around his back, trying to push yourself into his touch more.
“I know, baby. Just let me take care of you.” He removes his hand from your center and wraps his fingers around your ankles.
Jake brings your knees to your chest, placing kisses along the back of your thighs before he reaches your candy covered center. He moves them over with his teeth, exposing your slick heat to himself. He licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, adjusting his lips to suck on your swollen bud. He lets go of your legs to free his hands, allowing them to rest over his shoulders. His hand comes down and replaces his lips, thumb now pressed to your clit as he teases you with his tongue. He dips his tongue past your entrance, pushing it as far as he can. Once you grow wetter under his touch, he moves two fingers to your entrance, slipping them inside of you as his thumb continues working fast circles over your bud. In a matter of seconds you start to tighten around his fingers.
“Go on, sweetheart. Cum for me.” He curls his fingers up more to aid the process.
“Fuck… Jake, don’t stop.”
“I’m not, baby, I’m not.” He whispers.
You watch his eyes intently watching you writhe under his touch.
“Jake, please.” You reach down to hold his wrist stopping him from moving.
“Are you okay?”
“Just wanna cum on your cock. Wanna make you feel good, too.” You reach further down to wrap your hands around his thick length, stroking and guiding him to your center.
He places his hand over yours and follows your stroking motion, dragging his tip between your folds before pushing into you. Your walls flutter around his width as he gently works himself inside fully. He lays on top of you, hands wrapped around your torso holding you into his chest. There’s not a single part of you going untouched by Jake’s body in some way. His fingertips pressed into the skin of your back and his chest laying on yours, you wrap your legs around him again. Jake’s face is nuzzled into your neck, lips against your ear allowing you to hear every obscenity mumbled from him. A mantra of fuck’s and oh my god’s leave his mouth as he slowly engulfs himself in your touch. Your arms are wrapped around his torso, pulling him in as hard as you can. The pressure of his weight rubbing against your nipples combined with him inside of you forces your own breathy moans out, creating a one of a kind melody just for the two of you. His body so close to yours has allowed the candy panties to rub against your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. Just as you start to tighten around him, he stops again, eliciting a groan from deep inside of you.
“I know, I’m sorry, had an idea.” Jake pushes himself up and pulls out of you, making you groan at the loss of contact. “I promise this time I’ll make you cum. I’m sorry, baby. Can you flip over for me?”
You weakly roll over onto your stomach, body growing tired and sore from Jake’s consistent edging.
“Can I take these off now? Kinda getting in my way.” He asks, toying with the string on your ass.
“Only if you’re gonna make me cum this time.”
He answers by removing the candy panties from your hips and slipping them between your lips.
“Give that mouth something to do other than talk back.” He mumbles as you hear his pair hit the floor.
Jake pushes your legs together and situates himself around you before you feel the tip of his cock against your ass. He leans his torso into your back and brings his lips to your ear.
“Ready?” He whispers.
All you can manage is a nod and Jake slips his cock back inside of you. A few strokes in and Jake’s already pushing you to the edge again. He leans back up and places his hands on your hips, pulling you up to your knees. He adjusts your legs around his frame, spreading out the view for him. He begins thrusting into you again, hands on your hips and his fingers digging into the skin. He moves one hand from your hip and runs it over the swell of your ass. His thumb rests over your back entrance, rubbing in circles for added stimulation.
“Is this okay? You like that?”
“Yeah…” You moan. “Put it in.”
You hear spit leave his lips and make contact with your ass as he uses his thumb to spread the manmade lubricant over your entrance. He slowly pushes his thumb into your ass, resting his palm against your lower back. He slowly moves his thumb in and out of you as he works his cock inside your pussy. Jake removes his other hand from your hip and wraps it around to toy with your clit. Chasing his own release, he starts thrusting into you harder, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix every so slightly. With all of the added stimulation, you start to tighten around his wide length again, this time with the promise of finishing. Jake removes his thumb from your ass and brings it up your back to grab your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He wraps it around his hand and pulls your back into his chest. You bring your arms behind you, pressing your hands into Jake’s sides, squeezing his love handles. He fully pushes you over the ledge, gifting you your promised release as he himself comes undone. The two of you fall to the bed, Jake’s cock still buried deep inside of you. After falling, you both catch your breath, Jake pulls his now soft length out of your aching core. Jake rolls off the bed and collects the candy pieces from around the room, tossing them into the bathroom trash can. You turn your head to watch him as he leans over the tub and begins to draw a hot bath. He shuffles through cabinets under the sink and pulls out a handful of bath products.
“Rosehip or coconut?” He shouts out into the bedroom.
“Rosehip is good.” You mumble just enough for him to hear.
Jake saunters out of the bathroom and over to the bed, picking you up in his arms and bringing you to the bath.
“I’ll be back, just relax a little, okay?” He says, lowering you into the water and placing a kiss to your forehead.
You watch him enter the bedroom several minutes later with a cup of chamomile tea and an assortment of snacks. He comes back to the bathroom with your mug and hands it to you before climbing into the tub with you.
“Nightmare on Elm Street is ready on the tv when you are.”
After the bath grows cool, you guys get out and dry each other off before making your way to the bed.
“Wait, don’t lay down yet.” He walks to the closet and grabs fresh sheets, stripping the bed of the old ones and discarding them in the dirty laundry.
Once the bed is done up with clean sheets, Jake gets you settled with the snacks before climbing in next to you and starting the movie.
#greta van fleet#greta van fic#greta van fluff#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van smut#gvf fic#gvf smut#one shot#greta van fanfic#jake x female reader#jake kiszka fluff#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiszka smut#jake one shot#jake gvf#jacob thomas kiszka#jtk x reader#jtk#jake kiszka
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can you write a sub Jeff the killer like at first he’s all dom and stuff but then we lowkey overpower him and break down his whole dominant character and turn him submissive?🙏🙏🙏♥️
¡Sub! Jeff The Killer x ¡Dom! Male Reader
I LOVED writing this, the more specific the message the more my ideas open up. I really didn't know if you meant an Fem or an Male since part of me was saying "I want to ride that bitch." and another part was saying "I want to open that bitch's legs." and finally I decided to take him as an Male reader to make him more submissive than with an Fem reader haha.
¡WARNING! : Smut,Mention of murder, Alcoholism, Knife game, Skin cuts,Boy x Boy,Mutual masturbation,Explicit content, Homosexual.
¡English is not my first language! So it's possible that the writing sucks.
It was Christmas, you didn't celebrate Christmas and it wasn't like you cared what happened that day, since to you it was like just another day.
Even so, the holidays were perfect targets to murder entire families, an opportunity that Jeff did not waste.
After 1 in the morning the man arrived covered in blood and with his hands busy with two bags of beer that he left next to the living room sofa where he was sitting.
- "Hard work?" - you asked without taking your eyes off the television that was broadcasting the news of the recent murders committed by your partner. He only grunted in response as he discarded his stained sweatshirt to the floor, leaving him in a thin tank top and his black jeans that were still stained with blood. He plopped down on the couch next to you as he grabbed two bottles of alcohol. to open them and extend one to you, which you accepted.
After many drinks and some unconscious flirtations thanks to drunkenness, they ended up running up the stairs to his room between hungry kisses, clumsily opening the door out of desperation, Jeff squeezed your waist with his pale hands while his tongue explored your oral cavity and you responded to his touch by resting your hands on the sides of his shoulders and trying to keep up with his kisses.
When you got to the bed, he let you fall on top of the sheets while you smiled flirtatiously, holding your forearms to see how Jeff removed his tank top to reveal his thin and pale frame.
You, on your part, did the same, you unbuttoned the buttons of the shirt you were wearing and got rid of your belt to lower your pants until you finally took them off along with your shoes.
Jeffrey just licked his trimmed lips at the sight of you half naked, without asking permission he jumped on you to kiss your neck. You hummed low in your throat while the tips of your fingers caressed the ribs that stood out in your boyfriend's thin skin, causing him to shiver.
Lowering his hips a little, he rubbed his clothed erection against your bulge in your boxers, making you both sigh. You lowered your hands from his sides to his lower back, where you lightly squeezed his hips just as he had done minutes before.
- "Don't play with me like that." -I was serious when I noticed your intentions, you just smiled calmly, raising your shoulders a little to massage his belly with your thumbs - "I'm not playing..." -.
The took off his remaining clothes and settled on top of you. You agilely took his arms and turned him around so that he was under your body, while you imprisoned his arms against the mattress.
- "Don't play with me." - You ordered, wanting to highlight your authority. Jeff opened his eyes in surprise but then relaxed his frown while a small blush ran across his sensitive skin and the color rose in his face.
You lovingly kissed every part of his body, sometimes leaving small hickeys in sensitive areas where you knew they would drive him crazy in a short time.
- "Come on…I don't have your time." - The blue-eyed one growled. - "You mean you don't have my patience, because there is plenty of time" -.
You let out a small laugh to get to the point and settle between the murderer's legs, lowering your boxers slightly so that your member would jump out.
They began with mutual masturbation which in a matter of minutes caused the room to be filled with obscene noises from both of them until they reached climax. Then you began to prepare Jeff so as not to suffer consequences later, when they managed to enter his narrow entrance they could only grunt, him for the intrusion into their privacy and you for how tight it was.
- "G-God a-ah" - the one with cut cheeks complained slightly at the overwhelming sensation. - "Relax… you're choking me down there." -.
They continued at a slow pace until the youngest got used to the size until they became wilder, enjoying the ecstasy of the moment.
- "¡More! ¡More! ¡More!" - You followed your partner's wishes until your eyes rested for a moment on the nightstand where Jeff's knife was found. You just smiled and took it to pass the cold, thin, sharp blade across your boyfriend's chest to delicately cross out a heart with the cuts you caused, something that only excited them more.
You rested the blade against Jeffrey's neck, without wanting to cut him but close enough to feel the cold of the steel, your thrusts were increasingly erratic while you felt that you were close to your second orgasm just like Jeff.
Releasing a loud gasp you came out from inside his hole to let out the strings of semen on his stomach and belly just as he did with his own.
You let your head fall into the side of Jeffrey's neck as he breathed heavily. He just caressed your hair and then grabbed it tightly to lift your face and kiss it roughly.
- "I'm still not satisfied." -.
God, this would be a long night.
#creepypasta smut#creepypasta x reader#dom male reader#dom reader#sub character#jtk x reader#jtk smut#jeff the killer#jeff the killer x reader#jeff the killer x you#creepypasta fandom#creepypasta x you#creepypasta x y/n
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