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0oolookitsme · 7 months

Text

The Thigh Tattoo

Type - One Shot

Verse - Baker!Harry x Florist!Y/n

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - None! It's all smut!

A/N - Not super proud of this one -- probably my least favourite so far. But it's here, and I just hope you guys don't hate it as much as I do hahah <3

Kinks - Thigh Riding, Teasing.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

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Y/n loved being a florist, she really did. But, some days were so busy and full of people rushing inside her shop to buy flowers, that it resulted with her standing on her feet for the whole day. It always ended with her feet pink and a bit swollen, causing her to climb up the stairs of her flat hissing and groaning.

And, today was no different. She had texted Harry while unlocking her door, asking if he could come over to which he had replied by asking her to give him 15 minutes to wind up the bakery.

In the meantime, she had turned on the geyser and took out the ingredients it'd take to make pasta. She didn't have it in herself to make an actual dinner, and she hadn't eaten that in a while anyways.

When Harry finally chimed in, she practically glued herself to him, hugging him for longer than normal. She suggested that while the water was heating up, they could make dinner and catch up with each other about their days.

As they chatted, Y/n didn't realize as the time passed them by. It'd often be like that with Harry – she could be doing anything, Harry just needed to start talking and she'd completely lose track of everything. It was like time would stop everytime she looked at him. And this time, it ended with Y/n jerking when she accidentally dropped the pasta too suddenly and the hot water splashed, slightly burning her hand.

It was such a mild burn, that it soothed only a second after and the both of them couldn't help but laugh at her wild reaction.

When she climbed down from the slab, the pain shooted through her feet again. She sent Harry to fill up the bathtub, telling him that she'd be there in a little as she shifted the pasta from the pan into a big bowl, the sputtering soup staining her april. Placing the bowl inside the oven, she cleaned up as fast as she could and ran to the bathroom.

She slipped out of her clothes, and finally into the bathtub, where Harry had already settled himself in with his hair tied up in a man-bun.

Y/n sighed as she dipped her toes in the bathtub, goosebumps rising on her body as the lukewarm water already started working its magic on her muscles.

As she brought her other leg in, Harry spread his arms wide to make sure she didn't slip and hurt herself. He stayed put like that until she lowered and sat between his legs, her back immediately leaning back to rest on his chest.

The bathtub wasn't huge, but they both managed to fit every time.

"This feels so good," she murmured, her eyes closing as she dropped her head back. Only after a deep inhale she looked up at him, her head on his right shoulder, just beside his jawline. She pressed a light kiss to his jaw that had a day-old stubble, "thank you for coming over."

"Of course," Harry smiled, kissing her temple.

Closing her eyes again, she took a big yawn, feeling like she could sleep right there. A grin formed on her mouth when she felt Harry's chest rumble due to laughter behind her.

"You cannot seem to stop yawning today," he chuckled, brushing her hair strands and weaving them somewhere among the rest of her hair that had been twisted into a bun.

Y/n hummed in response. "You smell like you're a baked goodie and now I want one," she laughed, and only squeaked harder when Harry's hand slid on her belly, his fingers tickling the soft skin there. "Har-Harry stop, my hair will get wet!" She yelled on top of her laughter, chest heaving as she rose back up from where she was about to go below water in order to escape his hold.

"I'll bring you some tomorrow," Harry spoke, smiling at her softly from above as spurts of laughter fell from her mouth.

After she'd calmed down, she felt less tired. Yes, she was still going to be out like a light the moment her head would hit the pillow, but now at least her head wasn't going to drop in her plate full of pasta while the snores left her mouth.

Deciding to stay in for a little more, she absentmindedly started tracing the tiger tattoo on Harry's thigh. The tip of her index finger grazed the skin where black ink was imprinted onto his skin forever, following the path it lead.

Once she'd returned from where she had started, she brought her hand back to herself – tuning her head to look at what Harry was doing considering there wasn't any sound in the room.

He was already looking at her, his lips rolled in under his teeth. "Why did you stop?" He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Y/n only shrugged in response, getting up to rinse off the soap from her body because her stomach was starting to make louder and louder sounds as each minute passed. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that she was turned on already, so she pretended as if she hadn't caught up with him.

Harry followed her out, his towel wrapped loosely around his hips. She had stopped to do her skincare and tossed the bottle of moisturiser at him. He caught it, and went behind to her to look into the mirror as he rubbed it in his skin.

"I love your whole body," she mumbled, looking up at him while she dropped some serum on her cheeks. "But I think if it came down to favourites, I would choose your legs," she continued.

It was always impossible to guess what she would say next – her mind ran a million miles per minute. And, she was unpredictable even for Harry, who knew her like the back of his hand in only a few months. "Why?" Harry chuckled, eyebrows starting to frown.

"See! Even I don't know!" She exclaimed. "Maybe because they are so… toned? And sweet God, that tiger tattoo? It makes your thighs look mouth-watering," laughing she said, feeling good at the sight of his eyes darkening.

She turned around then, placing her palms on his chest. "It has to be my favourite," she whispered, her hand lowering towards that tattoo. "The one that's here," her hand lingered over the spot.

"Really? Don't think you've ever shown that much interest in it before," Harry feigned being clueless, pushing his thigh towards her core, stopping just before he could brush against her.

Y/n's skin was starting to feel tingly, excitement rushed through her. She could feel her arousal slipping past her vaginal-lips and when Harry didn't push his thigh into her, she felt disappointment sink inside her.

So he wasn't going to be easy.

"Oh yeah? Then let me, right now." She said, searching for some kind of approval in his eyes.

"Let you what?"

She held her forehead for a second, before crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Let me ride that thigh."

"Which one, hm?" Harry asked her, the tone of amusement gone from his voice. He was able to tell that she was getting impatient now, and who was he to delay things further?

"The one with the tiger tattoo, please" she whispered, her eyes set on his lips.

That's all Harry needed to hear before he smashed his lips onto hers. She tasted just like the strawberry lip-balm she had rubbed on her lips minutes prior. Licking her lips, he pushed his tongue through, his nose pushing against the side of her mouth as she pushed towards him.

Her tongue kept licking into his mouth, her teeth grazing his tongue as she kept pressing into him. She had shifted her thigh in a manner that the muscle of his thigh brushed against her crotch everytime they moved.

"Desperate, hm?" Harry heaved, breaking the kiss and teasing her when she reached for his mouth with her eyes closed and opened them when she couldn't find them.

She punched her fist into his chest before pushing his head toward hers with her hand in the back of his neck. A grin played on both of their mouths as Harry pecked her upper lip.

Y/n was the first to push her tongue in his mouth this time, her fingers tangled up in the hair strands as she started pushing him backwards, out of the bathroom. They kept walking until Harry's knees hit the foot of the bed.

His hands slipped from her waist as he fell on the bed. Harry slid up on the bed until his bed rested against the headboard of the bed. Before he could ask her to come, she was already on the bed and moving towards him on her knees, the rest of her body remaining upright to maintain her balance.

Harry removed his towel before she settled herself on his thigh. His cock was hard, but he asked Y/n not to focus on that right now.

He placed his hands on her love handles, drawing her hips in and then sending them back. "Already so wet," Harry groaned as he felt his thigh get slick in just two slides of her pussy over it.

Y/n's head was thrown back as her clit rubbed against the pulsed muscle of his thigh, her tits moving with each sway of her hips. "Oh fuck," she choked out when she felt him push his thigh further up.

She placed her hands on his shoulders as Harry moved one of his own and kneaded her left boob while sucking on the other one. He twisted her hardened nipple with his fingers before flicking it, causing a moan to leave her mouth.

Licking the bud with a flat tongue one last time, he moved to play with the other one. He looked up at her when she undid his bun and clutched his hair in a tight grip. He moaned against her skin, the vibration of it moving along the current in her body.

Sweat started lining her skin as she kept rubbing on him, looking down to make sure she was still over the tiger tattoo. But the sight of the black ink covered in her arousal and the white strings that were still dragging along her pussy sent a different kind of rush through her.

"You like that, don't you? My tattoo and my thigh covered so well in your arousal that it's starting to slip down on the mattress?" Harry asked her with a smirk on his face, the mess on his thigh making him harder.

When her pace started breaking into arrhythmic drags, Harry gripped her hips with a tighter hold and weighed her down on his thigh, tightening his muscle.

He moved her hips in sync and kept on moving his thigh. "Know you're close, c'mon," he mumbled, sitting up right to nip at her collarbone.

The only sounds in the room were of Y/n's moans, Harry kissing her skin and the bed slightly creaking under her movements. The sound of her wet pussy rubbing over its own slick could almost be heard if it weren't for Harry's heavy breathing.

"Fu- fuck, Harry-" Y/n stuttered, rubbing faster and whimpering over the burn of Harry's nip. He licked at it and then shifted his attention on her boobs again.

She was starting to shake and whimper, and as Harry sucked on her breasts, she started to groan his name – her pull on his hair getting harder and harder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck- I'm coming, Harry," she yelled, but not so loud that the people on the streets would be able to tell.

"C'mon, come for me," Harry urged her on, holding her down with one of his hands as he left a mark close to her nipples. "Come all over this tiger tattoo," he told her and her nails dug into his shoulders as she wetness gushed out of her.

She was gripping the hard muscle on his shoulders so hard that she knew that not only her nails were leaving their mark, but her palm was too. "O-Oh, my god- Harry, please-" she begged him as he kept rubbing her against him, running her throught her high.

Slowly and slowly, he decreased the pace until he finally stopped. Y/n was breathing heavily when she finally looked down at his thigh, only to find her arousal shining on the tattoo, and the bedsheet around drenched - whether in sweat or her juices, or perhaps, both.

"God, I don't know if I love the tiger or your thigh more," she heaved, laughing breathily.

Laughing, Harry helped her roll off of him and lay on the bed. "Let's call it the thigh tattoo for you," he said, grinning as he wiped the sweat off of the top of her upper lips.

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live-laugh-lenney · 26 days

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How do you think George & Arthur would react to their girlfriend having an off day and being a bit emotional?

I feel like Arthur especially would be such a sweetheart about it 🥴

ohhh absolutely! he'd be the softest boyfriend. :((((

A R T H U R

arthur has a sixth sense.

he likes to pride himself on knowing when his girlfriend is having a bad day, knowing when his girlfriend feels ill, knowing when she just needs some comfort and some love without her asking for it verbally or delving deep into her feelings. he never goes digging for answers... he always lets her take her time, lets her enjoy the comfort he gives to her, lets her tell him on her own terms.

sometimes, he can tell through her texts.

when she gives him short answers, when she takes a while to send a text back to him, when she misses the 'x' at the end. when she gets to the point, when she's straight with him, not double-texting him... or even triple-texting.

sometimes, though, it's just a gut feeling.

and it's usually around that time of the month where all she wants is to feel warmth, love and comfort from those close to her. knowing that she caves in on herself when she first starts, when she feels the cramps begin, and all she wants is to be looked after without needing to ask him to grab her tampons or pads or sweet treats that she craves. to which he complies, of course.

he doesn't care how silly he looks when he's on the tube, with a bag in his hand that was full with boxes of tampons and pads, alongside an unusual amount of chocolate for one person and paracetamol to help soothe any of her aches and pains. a big bouquet of flowers in his hand that definitely draws attention to himself... but he doesn't seem to care as he stands looking at the floor with his airpods in his ears as he listens to music to pass the time.

and it's time like this where she's glad he had a key to her flat.

because there was no way she was leaving the warmth of her bath to answer the door if he knocked to only get back in moments later with a different feel the water than she had been accustomed to before. knowing that it was him when she heard the jangle of his keys fall in the bowl on the table beside her front door. colliding with the metal of her own keys that lay in the bottom of the wooden bowl.

hearing his footsteps thud around the open plan of her living space, the rustle of a bag being placed down on her kitchen island, hearing him step closer and closer to where her bedroom was. her bedroom door creaking as he steps inside and she was expecting his face to peek around the door to her en-suite.

"only me," he smiles, "had a feeling you'd be in here."

"how do you know i was in?"

"your keys and your shoes by the door," he points his thumb over his shoulder and she mentally facepalms herself for being stupid, "had a feeling you weren't feeling so good today, too."

"been a bit distant, haven't i?"

he steps into the bathroom, hit with the smell of cocoa and coconut from the bubbles in her bath, crouching down beside the tub and resting his forearms on the edge of the ceramic basin she was laid in.

"it's okay," he says softly, "i know you like the back of my hand now."

he dips his fingers into the water and feels how lukewarm it was and she frowns, knowing she'd had to stand up and leave the warmth she was soaking under and find another source of comfort to keep her nice and soothed. to keep her stomach from cramping. to keep her from curling over in aches that seemed to swallow her up whenever she moved.

"brought you some bits, as well," he informs her, standing to his feet and reaching for the towel she had draped over her towel rack, "some chocolate, some tablets, some tampons and that. i don't know if you have some already so... i can always take some back to mine."

she smiles as he stretches the towel out, waiting for her to stand to her feet so he can wrap her up tightly under the cotton, giving her a hug once her teeth start chattering at the chill in the air.

"thank you," she whispers, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, "love you."

"anything for you," he replies and presses his lips to her forehead, "love you, too."

G E O R G E

george is oblivious.

but she hid it well, he had to admit.

she stands to her feet during the half-time show of the football game they had on the television, stepping passed the the two arthur's who were sat on the floor and leaning against the sofa and walking passed chris who was sat in the single chair sitting diagonal to the tv, leaving the warmth of george's body heat from where they had taken the sofa so they could lounge together. excusing herself by claiming she was using the toilet before disappearing for the second 45 minutes of the game.

it's only when arthur (hill) mentions that he was getting a numb bum and needed a sofa cushion that george realises she hadn't come back to fill the empty space beside him.

"we're about to watch a film out here, do you want to-"

he cuts his own question off once he sees the human-sized lump curled up underneath his duvet, hand holding the handle of his bedroom door as he pushes it open, his eyebrows furrowing on his browline in confusion.

"babe?"

"hmm?"

"you okay?" his voice comes out in a hushed tone, quiet and almost whispered and he steps into his room, leaving the door ajar, "did i wake you up?"

"no," she responds softly, tucking the duvet tighter around her body and she feels the bed dip beside her as george crawls across the top of the mattress, his arms coming to rest either side of her as his legs straddle her body and his face soon comes into her line of vision, "i'm okay, yeah."

he cocks an eyebrow and she smiles softly.

"i just needed some time to myself," she admits softly, craning her neck to look at him and she's met with the softest pair of eyes looking back at her, "thought i'd leave you lads to watch the football."

"really?"

the way the word lingers on his tongue makes it known to her that he can sense a change in her demeanour and she lets herself relax, her body rolling onto her back and there's a moment where his breath washes over her face and she feels more relaxed than she had done before.

"no but it's silly," she sighs and she mentally scolds herself for how shaky it sounds, "just feeling a little sad, i guess."

"why's that?"

"i don't know," she shrugs and he drops his head to press a kiss to her forehead, "think i'm just feeling all soft. today's been such a nice and comforting day with you guys and tomorrow, it just goes back to me being stressed with work and not seeing you and-"

she lets out a heavy sigh and watches as it catches his fringe.

"i guess i just want every day to be like today," she admits and he tuts at her, "what?"

"you're forgetting i'm your boyfriend. you can see me whenever you want, you silly goose," he leans his weight on one arm and brings his other up so he could cup her face, brushing his thumb against her cheek, "if you want to stay here then you can. the boys won't care. if you want to see me, just say so. you know that."

"i just don't want to be a burden," she says and he shakes his head, "i do, sometimes. i don't want to interrupt time with the guys out there."

"but you come first," he says, "always." xx

#arthurtv #arthurtv blurbs #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv headcannons #arthurtv fics #george clarkey #george clarkey blurbs #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey headcannons

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callsignfangs · 4 months

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The 141 boys as widowers. (bc i feel like torturing myself /j)

141 x late (implied) spouse! reader

cws: grief, mentions of loss, implied alcoholism/alcohol as a coping mechanism, mentions self-destructive behaviour, very brief mention of addiction, etc (Please lmk if I've missed anything!)

(Note: This little drabble is a little self indulgent, a bit about my own journey with grief. Each little 'story' thing does end with acceptance. Please don't read if you're not in the right headspace, and remember that you're loved and you're not alone, and make sure to reach out if you need help <3)

Price is the one inclined to bargaining. Maybe he could've done something - what if he'd taken a bit more time off work, what if he spent more time with you, what if he'd agreed to retire early with you, what if he was there? Ironically enough - he just ends up drowning himself in more work, probably turns to smoking or alcohol in an attempt to drown everything out.

141, Gaz and Soap especially, will definitely be the only thing he holds on for. As capable as they all are, he couldn't just up and leave his boys without a captain - he couldn't make the same mistake over again, they gave him something to care for, to nurture and to look after.

I don't think he'll ever marry again - just making half-hearted attempts to peek into the dating scene whenever leave got especially lonely. He'd never be able to find anyone quite like you, so he eventually stopped bothering with it, finding warmth and comfort in himself and the other people he loved.

He keeps a photo of you, one of your handwritten notes, and any little trinket you'd given him at all times. Saved every single snippet of you talking he could - even still paying off your phone bill occasionally ringing your phone to hear your voicemail message, maybe sending you texts when things got especially hard. Definitely does chores the exact way you always did - from the time you went out to shop in the morning to how you stacked dishes. Loves hot showers but still takes a lukewarm one each morning because your habit of taking cold showers meant the water was never hot enough for him. I think he probably adopts something after the rough edges of the hole you'd left in his heart smoothed over.

It wasn't intentional in the slightest - maybe a stray cat had clung to his pant leg while he was on a hike or the task force managed to pick up an orphaned little kid on one of their excursions. He's very hesitant with them, still not quite trusting himself with caring for another being. But he warms up to them eventually. No matter human or animal, they've definitely been brought to your gravesite once or twice.

Maybe it would be alright, eventually. He'd at least have something interesting to entertain you with the next life he found you.

Soap is definitely in denial. Convinces himself it's a mistake - that when deployment's finally over, he'll trudge home, kick off his boots, and be met by his sweet love, bouncing at his heels like an overeager puppy and lathering his face in flittering little kisses. He still avoids coming home like the plague - resorts to anything from taking on way too many missions, to picking up another job on the side, even to staying in hotels as if he was in some sort of covert op.

He'd be forced to go back to your house eventually, though. Not home, it wasn't home without you there. Just the same four walls and roof he camped out in on deployment. Nothing warm or special about it.

He still pretended, though. Made your bed every morning the way you liked it and prepared meals for two every day.

While Price and Ghost undoubtedly pulled him out of his slump, Gaz was the person who really started him on the road to acceptance. Having the boys over near constantly was soothing, giving him something to occupy his mind with and overshadowing the cold emptiness of the house. The occasional cuddle piles and game nights reminded him of the warmth of their bond - like the nights they spent on stakeouts, letting their own sweet joy shield them from the brutal realities of their situation.

Gaz was the first person he cried to. Soap couldn't bear the way his buzzed sides were starting to fluff out, but he'd slowly gotten used to letting your gentle hands preen him and tidy him up. Of course, Gaz had noticed, and of course, he'd insisted that Soap just had to let him have a go at doing up someone else's hair. Soap didn't know when he'd devolved into tears - somewhere between the first gentle touch he'd felt in weeks and the crippling realisation that you'd never be there to do it again.

Either way, he'd managed to cry himself to sleep in Gaz's arms that night. He continued to sob himself away for weeks, filling each day with tears.

Until each day turned into each few.

And each few turned into once a week.

And slowly, his tears dried up.

It was an arduous process, grieving. But he stubbornly forced through it, just as he'd forced his way into your heart.

And he did his very best not to change. He determinedly kept the mohawk - even used the same shampoo because it made his hair feel perfectly fluffy under your touch. He did his best to continue being his perky, bubbly self, because he knew how you practically basked in his energy.

However, he still let himself grow, let his hawk grow out so he could braid it the way he'd always considered, and he let himself have his bad days, didn't force himself to keep up his energy when he didn't really have enough.

Admittedly, though, he never married again. He found temporary enjoyment in little flings, though he let them pass when the time was right. No matter what, he always came back to your house.

Sure, it wasn't quite home without you there. But you'd been there - no matter how little the time you'd had together felt in hindsight - so maybe he could learn to make it home again. For you.

Gaz is angry - furious to the point of enraged tears. If it was him? He'd understand. He'd hurt people, torn apart lives and taken his fair share of them. He deserved it. But you? It wasn't fair. In his eyes, you couldn't possibly hurt a fly, so delicate and tender and so, so soft. It just wasn't fair.

His attempt at coping is to delve headfirst into a tedious slew of missions - one after another after another. It gives him something to dump all his blind rage and hurt and desperation into. His morals were a writhing, flailing, unrecognisable mess for a long time, and the best comfort he could find was in the chaotic monotony of work.

So what if he burned everything in his path to ash? At least the threat was dealt with.

Price and Ghost are the most essential to his recovery. He needs guidance, needs some sort of structure, and needs to relinquish the tight hold on his need to be good, to fix things, to help, to finally restore what he was so reliant on, even if that meant tearing himself to shreds in the process. What he needs is time to grieve, time to come to terms with the unforgiving reality - that it just happened. No-one did anything wrong, there was no violence or intent, it just happened.

He'll absolutely come to deeply regret everything he did in his grief-induced warpath, but eventually accept that he was hurt and lost and just needed the help - the intervention.

Like Price, I think he might attempt to put himself out there and find someone new every once in a while, maybe even builds up to a couple dates, but he never really finds interest in anyone. He definitely remains friends with many of the people he meets, but he just can't quite find a spark - mainly because they're not you.

He never throws out anything of yours, his wardrobe is still mostly full of random articles of your clothing, and the third drawer on the nightstand is still yours.

He always wears something of yours when he goes out, from shirts and shorts to hoodies, even some of your jewelry.

Despite it being admittedly pretty late, he finally watches all of the shows you liked and reads all the books you did. It makes him feel closer to you - cuddling up under your favourite blanket in your favourite spot and picturing you being there with him, imagining each and every one of your reactions, practically seeing your lovely face curl with smiles as you commentated over the whole thing.

Sure, you weren't really there with him anymore, but the sweet, warm mark you'd left on his heart was enough to carry him over until he inevitably returned to you.

Ghost is mostly depressed. He's so agonisingly hurt and lost, but you were his sun - what gave him life and love, and without you? He just couldn't muster up the energy to do anything beyond simply existing. Even he'd expected himself to crash and burn - follow in his brother's footsteps and drown in a spiral of addiction. But he just... Didn't. The affirmation that he didn't blow up and take everyone he loved down with him would be reassuring, comforting, but it wasn't. Not without you whispering praise in his ear, assuring him of his goodness and softness.

I think he'd also be reliant on Soap and Gaz, but Price would be a surprisingly big factor as well. No-one could ever really replicate the effect you had on him, the way your encouragement kept him going, but having some amount of structure, of motivation? It helped. Despite that, he absolutely tried to push them out at first, convinced that the acrid shadow of death looming over his shoulder would eventually take them as well. What are task force 141 if not determined and unfathomably stubborn, though, especially when it came to caring for their own.

Soap undoubtedly led the charge - seeing as his ceaseless energy and affection were mildly more normal (god knows Simon needed a little bit of comforting normalcy). Gaz came second, still snarky and headstrong as ever, but with softened edges and an air of gentle care. Price was last. He'd been there before Simon was Ghost, he was aware enough to piece bits of his past together - and he'd be damned if he managed to scare Simon, if he was the reason he regressed further. So he was tender. Delicate, even. Ghost would despise being handled like fragile porcelain in Price's kid gloves, but it soothed a part of Simon that hadn't peeked out since you left.

It'll take a bit longer than the others - more therapy, reassurance and care, but he'll recover eventually, let the wound you left in his porous heart scar over and go on as best he could.

I don't think he'll look for romance again either - his interest in it just died out alongside you. He wants to preserve the sanctity and tenderness of what you had, and is more than content with holding that love in his heart, and keeping it safe for you until he meets you again.

After you're gone, he attempts to follow your advice more, occasionally dragging himself out of his comfort zone, picking up new hobbies and trying to emulate your passion for life in himself, keeping a little bit of you alive with him. He absolutely douses the house in your favourite fragrance, refuses to use any hygiene products other than yours and carries something of yours everywhere, whether it be your ring or even your purse, just something to remind him he had to look after things (including himself) for you.

Even if you were cremated or buried in some other way, he'd ensure there was a gravestone for you placed alongside his mother, Tommy, Beth and little Joseph. You'd always be part of his family - his heart, and when his time came? He'd be buried alongside you, trailing along with you into whatever came next. By your side forever.

Yippee. This was. A journey. /lh

Sorry if this isn't formatted the best, it was more of a massive brain dump that I forcibly shoved into something just about understandable lol

If you're seeing this, tyvm for reading mwah 😚😚

#task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #angst #angst with like. acceptance?#grief #tw grief #dead reader #141 boys being sad #i maybe cried a little when writing this.#just a little #(i wept)#(multiple times)#brain dump #fangs drabbles

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streamingcolors-gvf · 1 year

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Brittle

Moodboard created by @jakekiszkasleftnutsack

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Summary: Frustrated with the way things are going with Jake, you decide you have to confront him on how your fwb relationship wasn’t working.

Word count: 8.5k

A/N: Is anyone else have a series Jake down or is just me? This fic was inspired by The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens. It felt so Jake that I had to do this fic. The smut isn’t too crazy but this has a lot of angst, y’all 💔

**Feedback and thoughts are always welcome and I hope you enjoy this one! … but I’m fully prepared for you all to hate me after this.

Shoutout to @allieboop @asparrowofthedawn , Katie (jakekiszkasleftnutsack) and @pennylanefics for their feedback, input and support ❤️❤️❤️

Warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, arguing/toxic behavior, this fic angsty as hell, sexually explicit content/ 18+ - MINORS DNI!!! (Unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, some dirty talk, slight m!dom if you squint a lot)

It had been nearly twenty minutes since the notification popped up across your screen while you were watching a mind-numbing youtube video. You had taken the night to stay in, and taking a soothing hot bubble bath had been on the list.

The water had turned lukewarm, almost borderline cold at this point with all the foam of bubbles dissolved into the cloudy concoction of soaps, bath salts and oils. You had been fighting the urge to go to your messages to read it, but the truth was - you had already known what it said when you swiped it away with a wet pad of your thumb.

wyd tonight? come over

The simplicity of the half-assed text only made you angry. The fucking nerve he had to message you something so casual when you hadn’t heard from him for weeks. You could hear the voices of your friends bouncing around your head, telling you something along the lines of ‘not settling for was than you deserve’. That you ‘should cut out the toxic people of your life’. They were right, but why was it so hard?

Those twenty minutes were excruciating because no matter how much you tried to ignore and cast him from your mind as if he was just a minor annoyance - you simply couldn’t. He had overtaken every thought and feeling since the day you met him. Your dreams, day and night were overfilled with moments you would never have.

Throughout your days you wondered what he was doing, what city he was in, even what he was thinking - if it was about you. The idea hurt you more than you could bear, as the reality was you lying awake in the dead of night crying knowing that he wasn’t. How could he? You thought about him like he was a constant in your life, whereas you were just a fleeting moment in his.

You could have just blocked him. There wasn’t a doubt that you should’ve, and some days you wanted to if you could. Something, a looming presence that had a grip on your conscience was keeping you from allowing yourself to press that bold red text. You had to give it to him, he had done a wonderful job at stringing you along just enough to keep you hooked, and you were just too scared to finally cut the line.

The phone suddenly buzzed within the crumpled up towel beside the tub, vibrating away in the buried cloth where you had stowed it to push the temptation away. Reaching over, you picked it up to see the contact across the lock screen.

A picture you had taken with him months ago, a happier memory in time captured with the two of you together was facing back at you. You let it ring silently in your hand and regretfully slid your thumb across the bar before it eventually went to voicemail.

You held the phone up for a few seconds before muttered a displeased, “Hello?”

He huffed a dry laugh, “So you’re ignoring me now?”

“Jake.”

He breathed your name back into the receiver, husky and warm. His voice was enough to crumble the weak walls you had built, and now they were rubble at your feet.

“What are you doing tonight?”

You pulled your foot from the water, hanging it over the tube to watch the droplets drip down your leg as you hummed in a rather sultry tone, “If you must know, I am taking a bath.”

“Mmmmm…sexy,” He hummed, “I wish I was there to see that.”

“Come on over then,” you blurted out before you had the chance to catch the words. The following seconds of silence caused you to wince, worried that you came across desperate.

“I have to get up early in the morning,” It was a poor attempt at an excuse, making your heart sink into the empty pit of your stomach. He added, coaxing you with a honeyed tone to his voice, “Besides, I have the California King here.” He released a throaty laugh, “ All the more room to cuddle you with my dear.”

It was embarrassing how easily a smile formed over your lips. You pulled the phone away to check the time, “I dunno, Jake. It’s late and everything.”

He wasn’t about to let you bail out that easily, brining oh the weapon that was sure to make him win.

“I missed you.”

The hour it had taken to get dressed, crawl into your car and drive the distance to his house your body was a blur of mindless actions, as if you had been possessed by some sort of external force. You weren’t even sure how long you had been sitting parked in the driveway, keys in hand as you scrambled to collect yourself before you would ultimately see him again.

The way things were between you right now weren’t sustainable. There was no denying that. You just worried if you had the courage to confront him on how it made you feel.

You swore to yourself you would stick to your guns, that you would be honest that whatever this arrangement was, wasn’t working for you. With positive affirmations and a few steadying breaths, you exited the car and stepped towards the house.

Your phone vibrated within the depths of your purse, causing you to stop in your path to retrieve it. The lit screen showed another text message from him.

Just come in. In studio

You slid your phone back into your purse as you approached the front door. It was unlocked when you turned the knob, just as promised. You carefully pushed it open and entered the spacious home. The foyer had been dark as the only light source was coming from dimmed lights from the kitchen ahead. Looking around you noticed everything had been left the exact same since the last time you were here.

You knew he had invested in a housecleaner given how everything was kept remarkably clean under the small amount of clutter that was so recognizably him. Most of the living space remained untouched given the busy touring schedule of this year. Despite the almost sterile nature of the home, his favorite band posters hung along the walls, books were stacked randomly on different surfaces, even the many pairs of beloved boots kicked off were scattered near the door.

The muffled noises of his guitar coming from upstairs could be heard through the walls. You kicked off your shoes and padded towards the source, passing by the entrance to the grand kitchen. It had been modernized with the top of the line appliances and stainless steel fixtures, a feature of the home he had been adamant about to the realtor from the start.

You reminisced to the night he had invited you over to cook one of his favorite meals for you. Cooking was one of his passions, but you were more than surprised by his level of skill. You thought back to when you sat there at that kitchen island, with a glass in hand, watching him move around while listening intently to the processes as he rambled on. The way you laughed together, connected to each other felt so effortless - it was carefree. It was an insight into a life of domesticity between the two of you. From that point on, you imagined sharing this space with him more times that you cared to admit, picturing how you could mesh your life seamlessly with his.

Looking into the room now, the cold, almost-barren atmosphere was a painful reminder of what you didn’t have. The fond memories seemed like a lifetime ago, slipping through your hold with each passing day. The only thing resting on the counter tonight were a few used glasses along the bottles of varying amounts filled with whiskey.

You climbed the stairs, and the sounds of him playing grew louder with each hesitant step towards the door of his studio. It was cracked slightly, letting the warm light peak through the small opening.

You considered turning around and going home, but finally pushed it open to see him playing away just like he had been. All of his focus had been pulled into the guitar, and it didn’t appear that he noticed you. His legs were crossed beneath him under the chair, with one of his feet tapping along to the rhythm. His long, brunette locks of hair were draped over most of his face as the ends swayed slightly as he played. You stood motionless, watching in awe as his fingers moved with ease along the prized instrument.

The pure dedication, the unconditional love and every ounce of energy he poured into his music was something to be admired - to be proud of. You felt lucky to even be able to witness it with your very eyes.

After what felt like minutes, he eventually glanced up at you and offered you a soft smile and carefree nod for a glimpse of a second before his gaze was pulled back to his guitar. He was breathtaking, looking just as beautiful as the last time you saw him. The apples of his cheeks were pinkened and flushed, revealing the alcohol buzzing in his system. Those large, dark chocolate irises captured everything you loved about him.

You thought, perhaps foolishly, that your presence would cause him to stop playing so he could properly greet you with open arms, but he didn’t. He went right back to playing, fiddling around with riffs he had been trying to work out. He didn’t speak, and only muttered curses when they didn’t sound as perfectly as he wanted, making him start over each time.

Impatience and frustration began to grow rapidly as the minutes ticked by. Your restlessness wouldn’t allow you to sit and get comfortable, leaving you to stand anxiously by the door waiting for him to notice.

The guilt crept its way up your spine and infiltrated into your mind. If one were to ask, you were supportive of his dream more than anything, desperate to get lost with him, to be consumed by the present and embrace the music around you. That would be too easy and you almost resented him for it. There was no pretending that everything was fine with him, because you knew it would hurt that much more when it came time to leave.

“Jake.” You tried to push your voice over the sound of the guitar, but he didn’t acknowledge you.

A break in his playing gave you an opportunity to say something again, and you jumped on it, “Jake, I think we should talk-“

He was quick to interrupt without even giving the effort to even look at you as he fumbled around with a jumbled series of notes, “Hold on, one sec-“

“God dammit Jake! Would you put the fucking guitar down for one second and listen to me?!” You shouted back at him without restraint, filling the little sanctuary with your unprecedented anger.

You had every intention of talking your feelings over in a peaceful manner when you came here tonight.

Something had set you off, making you unleash everything that you had been pushing back for months and months. All the things you stomped out so you could accept without complaint from fear of losing him forever. Right here, right now, you had enough of being second, or perhaps farther down on the list then you realized.

He paused the movements of his hands the second your heated voice rang through the air. Seconds passed in a dreadful silence until he slowly lifted his head, and just stared at you, wide-eyed and void of an expression. With a rather collected, but stern voice, he asked, “What’s going on with you?”

You released an exasperated sigh while jabbing your hand in the air toward the instrument resting on his lap, “Why did you ask me to come over tonight? You’re more worried about that stupid guitar than you are of me.” He flinched hearing the rage bubbling out from you through the shrillness of your voice. It was coming across more like a child’s temper tantrum than anything else.

He scoffed in disbelief as he slumped back in his chair, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

You kicked yourself that you couldn’t just act like everything was great with a stupid smile on your face. Pretending that this was exactly what you wanted all along, that this unspoken agreement was just fine.

You crossed your arms over your chest, deciding that you’re going to stand your ground, “You know what? Yes, I am. You have barely said anything to me since I’ve been here.”

Confusion painted over his features, causing his brow to furrow while he threw his arms into the air to gesture around the studio , “I thought we were hanging out and having a good time-“

“No, you were having a good time. I’ve been standing here waiting for you to be done.”

He scoffed in disbelief, like he could not fathom that this was a real reason for you picking a fight.

“This is my job. My fucking life, okay?” He lashed back defensively. He had the right to. His dedication to his music was never the source, just the catalyst.

You shot back with a heavy roll of your eyes,“Trust me, you have made that very clear.”

“What is your fucking problem?” He snapped back at you, and the sudden rise of volume to his voice startled you. Things had escalated quicker than you planned, and this argument wasn’t what you had in mind tonight.

He stared at you, searching your face with brows furrowed without a trace of that blissful happiness on his face that was on his face minutes ago, like you had sucked it right out of the room in an instant. It only made you realize that this was a mistake given that he had been drinking and that the emotions were far too raw for you to process.

Turning towards the door, you uttered under your breath, “I’m just gonna go. This is obviously a waste of time.”

He called your name multiple times, but you were already out the door without a response. You were already halfway down the hall when you heard him shuffling to his feet while placing the guitar on its stand.

“Where are you going?!” He yelled out after you as you stormed towards his bedroom. You didn’t have to turn back to know he was hot on your heels.

He stood in the doorway, confused at this sudden change in your behavior. You chose to ignore him, frantically searching around the room. “Where are my things, Jake?”

Your “things” probably consisted of a random hairbrush, a very worn sweatshirt he had given you, a tube of lipstick and maybe a half-broken phone charger. Honestly, all items you could live without or didn’t even realize were missing. It was a matter of principle, to make your point that much clearer.

He huffed out a frustrated sigh while leaning against the doorframe, “Are we really doing this right now?”

Without a hint of compassion, you snapped as you peered into his closet, “Where is my bag of stuff? I want it all back.”

“Can we just talk about this?” He nearly whined, his voice almost as broken as you. Here he was trying to reason with you, to calm you down to a point of understanding, and you were just shoving him off with little to no explanation. There was no arguing about how you were becoming erratic in your actions.

You choked out a sob, fishing for the tiny clasp to the necklace around your neck, “You can have this back. I don’t want your stupid gifts anymore-“

The jewelry might as well have white-hot with how it seemed to burn against your chest. It suddenly felt cheap, like a mockery to your relationship. A sick, cruel joke.

He expressed hurt at the action by closing the distance between you, making you jump when you felt his hands on your arms, “Would you just fucking stop?! What are you doing?”

You threw him off you, causing him to stagger a few steps back from you, “No! No, Jake!”

“Am I missing something here?” The volume and pitch of his voice was so unlike him, “I thought we were having fun.”

Having fun.

“That’s just it. It’s all just fun and games to you, isn’t it?”

“Fun and games? What the hell are you-“

You interrupted him with an aggressive wave of your hand, “I haven’t heard from you in two weeks. How is that fun for me?”

He backed into the bed, sitting as soon as his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He combed his fingers through his hair, pushing it from his face as his shoulders fell in defeat, “Baby, I... I’m sorry-“

You cut the apology off, keeping your voice clipped and harsh, “No, you’re not.”

That struck a nerve, making him throw his hands up to let them hit the tops of his thighs with an exaggerated smack, “What do you want me to fucking say? We were on the last leg of the tour. I was busy. I thought by now you would have understood that.”

He scanned over the room, shaking his head as he refused to look at you. You saw how his jaw clenched, how the little crease in his brow formed through his anger.

He was deflecting, but you weren’t about to settle for being the bad guy, not when things had escalated this far. The last thing you were willing to do was back down.

“How hard is it for you to send a text? A quick phone call? Anything! But what do I get? Oh that’s right… absolutely nothing. Radio-fucking-silence from you because I never was a priority, Jake. And I’m still not. It really seems like I’m always there when it’s convenient for you.”

You didn’t even see him as you were too blinded by your own rage with the raw emotions spitting out through your clenched teeth.

“That’s not true,” he mumbled, and his eyes scanned the floor as he searched his mind for a plausible excuse to give you, but came up with nothing.

You broke away and looked up at the ceiling without focusing on anything in particular, blinking back the tears that were trying to spill from your burning eyes and down your cheeks.

“Would you just come here, please?” He croaked, begging with sorrow painted over his warm brown eyes. They were glassy and red, and the sight of them weighed heavy on your heart. He tried breaking the tension in the room while offering a hand out to you, and your legs carried you a few steps without your brain’s permission.

You stopped before you reached him, asking through the coat of tears clouding your vision, “Am I not good enough for you?”

His brows pinched together in genuine confusion, “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Is there another girl that loves you more? That fucks you better than me?”

For a second you regretted your hostility, and that you should have been embarrassed at how easily you allowed your insecurities to seep out. The intrusive thoughts had been weaseling its way into the forefront of your mind from the day you met him. You’ve been adamant about living in denial, convincing yourself that you were strong enough to beat it.

“Baby...”

You sniffled back the tears as they made it difficult for you to speak, “How pretty is she?”

“There isn’t another woman,” He insisted with a new sincerity to his voice in an attempt to reassure you.

You knew it was a lie. It had to be. You may have been naive with Jake all this time, but you weren’t stupid about the reality of his lifestyle. That didn’t stop you from wanting to believe every fiber of your being that you were the only woman in his life - that everything he could possibly give was solely for you.

He reached out for your hand, taking it in his. It was warm and soft, but you tried to rip it away, like it seared your skin once it made contact. You knew if it stayed there, you would fold and crumble into a million pieces. Despite the poor effort to pull back, he had a firm, yet gentle grasp around your wrist.

“No, Jake,” you protested, voice meek when it crackled out from your hoarse throat. You tried to push him away, to deny the gentle touch of his fingers when they graced your hips.

His hands tightened around your waist to pull you in closer so that you were standing between his open legs as he sat on the edge of the bed.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, and his desperate pleas came out muffled into the yarn stitches of your sweater, “Please, baby. I need you.”

You wished you could hate him. God, life would be so much simpler if you could loathe him for how he made you feel, how he had this much power over you.

As much as you yearned to be wanted by him, you would continue to blame the alcohol running through his bloodstream for his actions tonight. It was a rigged battle within your heart that you were never going to win.

The embrace was everything you needed, but felt long overdue - a cherished moment too late. You gripped onto his shoulders to break his hold and push him away, “Stop.”

His arms locked around you, keeping himself pressed into you, “Let me hold you, please”

“…Jake,” you whimpered, relinquishing every ounce of fight within you as you swept the fallen hair away from his face, allowing the silken locks to slip between your open fingers. You kept him close, now being the one to comfort him through his distress.

You heard the faint, muffled sounds of what you thought might be him crying - the heat of his uneven breath fanning against your belly, the tip of his nose pressing into the soft flesh.

“I love you,” he whispered into your stomach, barely loud enough for you to hear over your own crying.

They should have been the words that would make everything better, to mend what had been wrong between you. But that’s what it was. A verbal band-aid for a problem that would never be fixed. It was just another plea to keep you close and make you stay with him tonight, knowing those were the three words you wanted most from him.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. The confessions of his feelings for you were supposed to be said with purpose, without regret or doubt. It was supposed to be said in a romantic moment that you would keep in your heart forever. Not this. Not a drunken slip up during your first fight that he may not even remember when morning comes.

You stayed rigid in his arms, and you swallowed back the sobs from interrupting your words, “Don’t do that. You don’t mean it.”

A kiss placed at your hip to seal it in. He spoke again, “I do. I love you, baby.”

This was the first time it had felt like Jake was at your mercy, begging for you. Before this, the dynamic was entirely different. Jake was calling the shots with everything always being on his terms. It made you feel helpless, leaving you hating the many restless nights spent silently pleading for his affection.

What’s one more night? How bad could it truly be?

While you battled with your internal thoughts, he felt across the thin material of your yoga pants with the calloused fingers, squeezing firmly as he rubbed his hands over the curves of your body.

Admitting the words back to him would make it all too real. In reality, you didn’t need to say it. He already knew deep down that your heart belonged to him.

The same fingers that explored their way across your thighs, were now pushing up your light-knit sweater ever so slightly up your torso. You were folding with each second ticking by.

Those full, pouted lips that had been busy whispering sweet, empty promises started placing heated kisses along the exposed skin above the waistline of your pants. A shudder rolled through your spine and you hummed at the feeling, letting the last bit of resistance dissolve with each brush of his lips.

You melted into his arms to succumb to his enveloping warmth, the softness of his lips exploring over your body, to have his comforting scent that you found yourself craving fill your head again.

With your fingers combing through his hair to tug him closer, he nipped his way past your navel to right below where your bra rested on your chest. A lustful groan rumbled from his throat as your nails dragged across his scalp.

A switch had been flipped. Even if what he was confessing to you was ultimately just lust, you were going to take it blindly without question. He was your drug of choice, a bad habit you couldn’t bear to break no matter how hard you tried.

He offered you crumbs of a relationship and sat waiting greedily for more. It amazed you how he was able to break you into a million pieces, put you back together, only to keep you waiting for it to happen all over again.

Jake broke away from you only to pull the sweater from your arms while he guided you onto his lap. He licked over your chest, biting the swells of your breasts that peeked over your lace bra, making you hiss at the sting of it. His hands left their place around your hips to roam over your back, finding the metal clasps that kept the lingerie fastened to you. For a second, you believed he needed to have you just as much as you needed him.

You held his face in your shaky hands, lifting it up so you could bring your lips to his. At first, the way he moved with you was gentle and forgiving. He was careful with tender peck, but it all changed the second you flicked your tongue in a desperate search for more. The kiss deepened as his hand found a place on your cheek with the pad of his thumb swiping the tears away.

You both broke away, panting away with your forehead pressing into his. Desire started to build between your legs, and you began to ache with need. There was so much you wanted to say, but he took the words from you when he started to shower your jawline with kisses, burying his face into your neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered across the shell of your ear.

You breathed his name as he squeezed you tighter to rock your hips against his lap. The motion made his breathing quicken, sending hot puffs of air along the tacky skin of your throat. Just as always, he marked you with bites of affection into the vulnerable flesh, leaving painful reminders for you to see in the mirror later.

Things started to become a blur as if you were pulled into a haze, high off the sensations of his touch. His busy fingers released the hooks of your bra, and the garment fell freely from your chest, and was thrown into the room to be lost.

You flushed hot with your skin buzzing from the kisses peppered through the teasing licks down your throat, down to the valley of your breasts. His dull nails dragged across your bare back, making you squirm in his arms.

You felt him harden beneath you with a deliberate roll of your hips, and you brought your hand down to his belt in a frantic need. He held your wrist, stopping you before you could pop the belt through the metal buckle.

Embarrassment flashed through you. Had you read this all wrong?

Jake smiled against your lips, and cooed softly in reassurance, “Let me worship you.”

If your heart hadn’t been racing erratically within the walls of your chest before, it was now. Anything intimate with Jake had always been sort of rushed, frenzied passion with him being in control. You sat still on his lap, enamored by this entirely different side to him.

He held you securely, flipped you around and eased you carefully onto your back so that your head was resting on one of the pillows at the head of the bed. He shifted off the mattress and began to undress as you watched quietly.

The way he looked down on you made you reminisce to late nights spent at the bar, sharing drinks and shutting the world out like you were the only two people to exist. That special glimmer in his eye, the same crooked smile - it was enough for you to entertain the idea of him being ‘the one’. You wished to be back there, to be stuck in the ignorance that it was still a possibility.

The clink from the buckle of his belt before he whipped the leather through the loops pulled you back into the present. The well-loved t-shirt he had on was thrown into a pile, and a pair of jeans soon followed.

He crawled back onto the bed, hovering over you to kiss you on the lips once again. You wanted to keep him there as long as you could with your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, but he was able to break free when his knuckles tracing down the center of your body.

He sat back on his legs and hooked his fingers around the waistband of your yoga pants to peel them slowly down the length of your legs, leaving your underwear in place.

He hummed to himself as he rubbed up the tops of your bare thighs, squeezing them in the palms of his strong hands as he made his way up. You gave yourself to him by letting your knees fall to the side, spreading your legs while he settled between them. He looked down at you and smiled, biting in his bottom lip as his fingertips danced teasingly along the lace edge of your panties. He took his time admiring you as if this is the first time he had ever laid eyes on you like this.

You whined impatiently with no real coherent thought to offer.

He lowered himself to his elbows above you, and placed a pattern kisses to your tummy between your hips. A raspy moan rattled from you when you felt the warmth of his hand dipping between your legs.

“Missing the touch of a man?” He taunted playfully through open-mouthed kisses that trailed lower and lower.

A breathy sigh and a low hum were the only answers your brain could muster.

The tip of his middle finger slid beneath the thin cloth just as his lips pressed against your covered clit, and he whispered with a familiar confidence, “Is this what you missed?”

A pitchy whine broke free from your parted lips. You couldn’t control the bucking your hips into his face in the search for more, but he was able to keep you in place with his forearm placed across your stomach.

His warm, heavy breath draping across you was enough to overwhelm you, causing you to clench around nothing in anticipation for what was to come. He licked a languid stripe with a flattened tongue where the kiss had been placed, wetting the cotton covering your core.

A ragged whine ripped through your chest and your hand dove into his hair again, but this time you tugged at it with purpose to bring him closer to you somehow. At first, he resisted your guided push to the back of his head, and responded with a breathy laugh - letting it flutter across you in this dance to keep you guessing. His fingertip that had been tracing delicately under your panties dipped into your wetness, coating himself as he teased your entrance.

Your groans of desperation for him to make you feel good, to make you forget everything that had happened, echoed throughout the room.

His raspy voice purred against you, relishing in the way you fell apart beneath him, “Tell me what you’ve been missing, dove.”

The barely-there passes of his tongue and movements of his fingers made you throw your head back into the pillow. You stared at the ceiling, pleading for his mercy, “Jake, please!”

He wasn’t giving in just yet as he was testing how far he could push the limit, “I know you can use those words of yours. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you want?”

I want you to love me.

He waited for your answer, grazing his teeth over where you needed him most. You nearly lost the ability to form an answer, but you swallowed thickly, fighting the dryness of your mouth before whimpering, “I need to feel you, please. I missed your mouth.”

He responded with a satisfied hum nestled between your legs, “Yeah?”

You nodded with your head digging into the pillow, and with that, the last piece of clothing is yanked down your legs.

You hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol, but you felt drunk off him alone. Your eyes have been closed on their own volition, without your control, forcing you to take everything in through your other senses.

His musky scent, a tempting mixture of a fine cologne, his favorite expensive whiskey clinging to his breath all captured in the lingering smoke of his last cigarette. You tuned into his sounds, the low hums and heavy pants filling the space of his dark bedroom. Your sense of touch heightened, as if each touch was a shock of electricity across the expanse of your skin while you tried to guess where the next one would be placed.

It didn’t take much for him to turn you into a writhing mess in the sea of blankets when his pointed tongue dipped into you without the barrier of your lingerie. He pulled away after a few seconds and brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit, whispering in a smoky voice that clung deliciously to the thick air, “Should I treat her just right? Give her all the attention, hmm?”

“So pretty and wet.” He kissed the tiny bud of nerves with a feather-light touch. “She really did miss me…already so hard and needy.”

You whined his name with a pathetic roll of your hips to chase him, eliciting a devilish smile to pull at the upturned corners of his mouth.

Jake wrapped his lips in a perfect seal around your clit, suckling it into the intoxicating warmth of his mouth. You uttered a broken, breathless string of curses with how close you already felt. He has learned every part of your body very well over the months you’ve known him, and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you were in the throes of your first orgasm. You didn’t even realize you had dug your nails into the tanned skin of his forearm with the other hand gripping a fistful of sheets by your head.

He groaned, but without complaint while keeping you secured to the bed with his fingertips pressed into the supple flesh of your thigh. He lifted from you, with a sinful lick of his lips and dreamy eyes cast down at you, sighing, “The way you taste…I could write a song about it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before his head thrashed side-to-side, so the bridge of his nose caught the perfect spot just so, devouring you as if you were the last thing to grace his lips.

You fought against your body to prop yourself on your arm so you could watch him pleasure you. Pulling his hair back, you saw that his heavy lids were closed, brows tipped in concentration as his tongue swirled changing patterns over your swollen clit.

You tried to edge yourself by holding out longer, but with him coaxing your release with curled fingers inside you and being able to see his tongue work on you - feeling it move with each precise flick - hurled you into the wall of your climax without warning.

“I, I-I’m so close- oh fuck!”

His sleepy eyes suddenly opened, and the unwavering lust-blown pupils locked with yours until you couldn’t keep them open a second longer. Your head had fallen back as you used the roots of his hair between your clenched fist to ground yourself, riding each breaking wave of your high.

He carried you, tugging you along gracefully through your orgasm. Just until the very tipping point where the overstimulation was threatening to ravage your body. He took the time, yet never taking his lips from you as you came down slowly.

“Turn over for me,” Jake was admiring the fucked-out expression across your face.

You probably would have done anything he asked at this moment, so you obliged without question. He adjusted behind you as you began rolling onto your stomach, bringing your legs and arms up so you’re on your knees and elbows.

You wiggled your ass against him with a breathy, mischievous giggle that earned you a swift smack of his hand. You cried out, but the sound quickly transformed into a pitiful moan as he soothed the stinging skin with his palm.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he grunted, squeezing a firm handful of the swell of your ass.

For the first time tonight, you’re blessed with the tip of his cock teasing through your slick. With his hips pressed up against you, he shuddered at the feeling, stumbling slightly over the brief break in his control. If you didn’t know him better, you would have guessed that he wouldn’t last long tonight.

You arched your back, giving him the full show that would be sure to drive him insane. You tested the waters with a daring glance over your shoulder to see him. He’s looking down at himself glazed in the mess of your arousal that he’s created. You noted how the tip of tongue darted across his parted bottom lip with dark brows sewn tightly in his state of focus. Strands of tangled hair have already started to cling to the sweat forming on his forehead and cheeks.

A primal growl erupted from deep within his thoat, “Oh fuck!”

His free hand slinked down the curve of your back with the other held around the thick base of himself to dip the head in and out of your soaked cunt so slowly you might explode.

He sighed sweetly, “I missed this….just look at you.”

He couldn’t even resist anymore and gave a small thrust of his hips, pushing into you with ease. Even with your first orgasm, he was still stretching you out inch-by-inch. You released a ragged moan into the sheets the second he bottomed out inside you.

He paused, buried deep inside your pussy for what could have been minutes to feel you clench and adjust to his size.

With a deliberate pull until he nearly fell out, only to push all the to the hilt, he growled in your ear, “Am I giving you enough attention now?”

You squeaked out something incoherent with your face buried into the pillows and sheets. A husky chuckle fluttered over your skin as he started to thrust into you.

Your knees slipped down the silken fabric until you were laying flat on your stomach. If it was another night, he might have kept you still, but tonight he moved with you, holding your hip and balancing his weight with an extended arm by your head.

He rolled into you, hitting that perfect spot with each gliding pass. Pitched moans bounced around the room as your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tightly you gripped onto the blankets.

As much as he enjoyed seeing you like this, he needed to feel every part of you. The hand that was starting to mark you with finger-shaped bruises left your hip momentarily to slip beneath your tummy, guiding you back onto your knees.

He didn’t stop there, and brought up upright so your back was flush against his bare chest. Your hand grazed across the forearm across your waist, fingers interlocking with his, with the other hand searching for the back of his neck.

“You were made for me, weren’t you, baby?” He praised you with a certain gravel that made you tighten around him as it rasped across your ear.

His nimble fingers found the small, silver crescent moon pendant that hung from your neck on a thin, delicate chain. He held it up just right like it was a treasured artifact, so the light reflected off its polished surface.

He placed it gently against your chest, tracing along the chain resting on your collarbones with his fingers. A prideful smirk was formed against your cheek, and he mumbled, “Like when I buy you pretty things, don’t you?”

A hot blush flushed your cheeks and chest, making you feel instantly dizzy. He was making it increasingly difficult for you to concentrate as he never stopped his movements. In the position, he usually fucked you hard enough that your screams rattled the walls of the bedroom. This time however, he took his time treasuring your body with his velvet-soft lips pressed into your neck and fingertips tracing along the details of your breasts that were bouncing with each thrust. You somehow managed a listeless nod with your head falling back onto him.

The pad of his middle finger found your overstimulated clit, and he gave a teasing roll as he crooned into the little spot tucked below your ear, “My beautiful girl deserves the prettiest things. Just say the word and you can have them all.”

For a flash of a second, you believed that he wasn’t just fucking you like the dynamics of your ‘situationship’ suggested. Before you let it sink in, you tried to push the thought away like your mind had been playing tricks on you, convincing you of something that wasn’t real.

“I love you.”

Your confession flitted from your mouth to his ears without you being able to catch it. It might have been the heat of the moment, but it had given away that your emotions had crawled their way back, taking over your state of unbridled lust.

Whereas he might have said it to keep you here in his bed tonight, you meant the words with every part of your soul.

He didn’t allow it to hang in the air, repeating it right back to you. Although he suddenly stopped, he squeezed his arm around you when he added, “I wanna see you.”

You whined at the empty feeling when pulled from you, but he flipped you onto your back in a swift movement before you could complain further. You reached out for him as he found the new position between your legs, pulling him close to you.

He didn’t kiss you yet, holding back enough to search your face. He scanned over your dazed features behind his half-lidded eyes. A thumb was brought to your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your makeup that stained your cheeks through your fit of tears.

Your legs locked around his waist, bringing him closer to you than before. The heat of his body was something you never wanted to let go. You both knew the second he slipped into you, he wasn’t going to last long.

It wasn’t rushed. The time was spent kissing your soft lips, tasting the sweet, saltiness on your flushed, pinkened skin, breathing in the floral scent lingering on your body from your bath earlier in the night.

He rocked his hips against you with a calculated pressure, nudging the head of his cock to your limit. His teeth raked across the peek of your shoulder as he brought his fingers to your clit for the final time.

“Let me have it. One more time, baby. I know you can,” he pleaded in desperation with his heavenly voice mumbled into the crook of your neck, giving away that he’d been holding out for you.

That’s all it took for him to push you over the edge of your climax that you have been teetering on. It amazed you how he was able to pull you under, to drown you in the overwhelming state of euphoria. Not only had he figured you out, you wanted to give him everything he asked for, to win each of the little praises passed through his lips.

There was no hiding that Jake was starting to lose control as he began to unravel under the climb of his own release. His hips faltered in a broken rhythm along with the ragged, strained breaths falling on your ears. In his own fog, his hand wrapped around your throat, but only for a moment before it danced up your jawline and across your cheek.

In the height of it, the both of you ended up a tangled mess of limbs. You felt out of your own body, as if time seemed irrelevant with the only thing grounding you was feeling his weight against you. After a final thrust, he filled you up with the warmth of his cum until the lazy half-strokes halted completely with him nestled inside you.

If it was up to you, you would keep him locked there forever. A part of you thought he might feel the same way, because it took him way longer than usual to gather enough strength to pull away.

He reluctantly withdrew from you, but stayed intertwined in your embrace with an arm slipped under your head and the side of his face pressed into your chest.

You let the time pass in comfortable silence. The only sounds you heard were the combined shallow pants coming down to the steady deep breaths of oncoming slumber. The purring of his soft snores were what let you know that he eventually drifted off. With him in your arms, you finally felt at peace, hopeful that this would be a fresh beginning with him.

But it wouldn’t last.

Something vibrated in the bed, and a bright light of a phone screen illuminated the dark room. Thinking it was yours, you grabbed it from the folds of the duvet draped across your bodies.

You squinted to the harsh brightness, but eventually focused on the notification banner across the screen. Your heart fell from where he had placed it, and sank into the pit when you realized it wasn’t your phone, but the damage had already been done.

A woman’s name was what you read. It didn’t matter who. The pink heart icon next to it told you everything you needed to know.

Heyyy Jakey! Did you still want to meet up?

I’m in town this weekend-

You tossed it, almost throwing it to the side so you didn’t have to stare at it for a second longer. Maybe it would go away. Maybe that was just your imagination.

It was difficult for you to breathe with how your stomach twisted into painful knots as the sinking feeling of dread pulled you into the mattress. It didn’t matter how much you loved him, or could love him. It didn’t matter if he made you feel like the only woman on the planet, or how he made love to you on nights like this. It didn’t matter what gifts he bought you or how many texts came across your phone. It didn’t matter what you would give to have the chance for a future with him because nothing would ever change. The very thing that made you fall for him was going to be what destroys you. He was still going to be Jake Kiszka at the end of each day.

The weight of his arm across you felt like a vice grip. You had to escape now, shifting and sliding out from him without him waking. You froze when he rolled onto his stomach, but only for a second until the sounds of his snoring started up again.

There was no fight that was going to put these pieces back together.

Tiptoeing around the room, you gathered your things and got dressed without a sound. You forgo trying to find any of your other possessions that had been left before, accepting that they would be lost in this house forever. You walked over to his desk and found a pen and the notebook he liked to scribble his ideas on. Turning to a blank page, you began to write with a shaky hand.

I hope you find the woman that is your Moon,

For I am only one of the many stars in your sky

After wiping the tears streaming down your cheek with the back of your hand, you tear the paper from the spine of the leather bound book and fold it once before walking over to the bed where the man you hopelessly love sleeps away.

This time you’re able to undo the necklace he had gifted you, and you hold it in the palm of your hand. The tiny moon shined against your skin, and you thought back to the night you opened the navy-blue velvet jewelry box.

Another memory that seems from a lifetime ago.

With the note placed on the pillow, you carefully laid the jewelry across it. You looked over to him, watching his back rise and fall with each dreamy breath. His hair had covered most of his face and you wanted nothing more than to tuck it back behind his ear and kiss him for the last time, but you decided against it.

The bedroom door clicked in its latch, closing this chapter of your life behind you.

Taglist:

@josiee-gvf @gabyvanfleet @ageofbrokenbells @maddie-van-fleet @gretasmokerising @prophetofthedune @gardensgatedaisy @lek-gvf @baguettejuliette @ashabeannn @daniellefersblog @seventieswhore @lo-pe-ak @sammiejane22 @writingcold @dannyandthekiszkas @pr41sethemoon @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavanfleas @freckled-wonder @gvfrry @myownparadise96 @jordierama @mywaykiszka @jmksbuttsupremacy @weightofdreamz @maverick-rose @brokenbellz @jakekiszmyass @milkgemini @sarakay-gvf @idk-anymore50 @kels-gvf @strangersimp @richjaaasss @greta-van-chaos @shesawomaninadream @joshkiszkashikingboots @brinlygvf @alexxavicry @gretavanbitches @doodle417 @sammyslappers @garbagevanfleet

(I’m still in the process of redoing my taglist so be patient with me 😭)

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snelbz · 1 year

Text

'Til Death Do Us Part {Chapter Ten}

Elorcan. Rockstar Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

‘Til Death Do Us Part Masterlist

Elide -

I wake up the next morning unable to remember at what point I finally fell asleep.

When I came out of the bathroom the night before, after a shower and a fresh change of comfortable clothes, Lorcan was already on the couch scrolling through his phone. We said our goodnights and then I went into the bedroom and shut the door before crawling onto the California king size bed and falling asleep. It was, without a doubt, the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept on and getting up was a chore in itself.

We had a nice moment together the night before, Lorcan and I. During that moment, when we came to an understanding about our situation, there was a moment when I felt that our setup wasn’t mistake at all.

That feeling nearly disappears when I walk out of the bedroom and find that the suite is empty.

His bag remains just next to the couch that he had slept on, but everything else is gone: wallet, phone, keys, cigarettes. Nothing remains on the countertop that he had tossed there the night before, all of his necessities.

With a frown, I try to remain positive. Then, I feel ridiculous, because I don’t even have my husband’s phone number to text him and see where he’s at.

Maybe he’s at breakfast or went down the street to pick something up instead of settling for the continental breakfast. With that in mind, he should be back soon. I decide to take a shower, taking one much longer than I would in my own apartment. I let the hot water soothe my muscles and only get out when it turns lukewarm. Smelling like lavender and vanilla, I get out and wipe off the steamy mirror before peeking my head out of the bathroom door.

“Lorcan?”

Nothing.

I’ve been awake for an hour and he’s still not back. My anxieties start to become more concrete as I finish drying off and get dressed. With the bathroom door open, I apply my makeup and brush and dry my hair.

He still hasn’t returned as I decide to give my straight, dark locks a curl. I curl each section of my hair with tender care, taking far more time than I usually would, and look in the mirror when I’m done. I look hot.

Too bad my husband still isn’t here to see it.

I can’t control my worries any more. Tears sting my eyes but I don’t let them fall. He bailed. I know he did. Even after the moment we shared together last night, he still decided that this marriage wasn’t worth it.

Stupid. I feel so incredibly stupid.

Sure, he left his bag, but he’s a millionaire, I have no doubt. He can replace anything in an instant. He took what was important and left what could be replaced. Including me.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I see that it’s nearly eleven, which everyone knows is check out time. I doubt the hotel would kick a couple out of the honeymoon suite the morning after their wedding, but just in case, I don’t want to be caught looking as pathetic as I feel. I pack everything back up into my bag, making everything fit.

Save for one thing. And damn it, that’s what makes the tears finally spill over.

I look at where my wedding dress lays draped across the chair in the corner. I’d laid it out to keep it wrinkle free and in the best shape possible. Now I’m going to have to bundle it up and stuff it under my arm.

Oh, well. That’s what portable steamers are for. Even if it’s going to take me hours to bring it back to life. It wasn’t like he even cared about it, not more than getting it off of me.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, and ball the dress up, taking one last look around the room. It’s beautiful, even now, and I hate that they had to waste it on us.

Sighing, I head for the door. I’ll call Aelin from the lobby. I want to get out of this room and out of—

The electronic lock whirs and clicks as it disengages and the door swings open.

Lorcan walks in, a white cup with green print in each hand, door falling shut behind him. His hair is pulled back into a bun at the back of his head, leaving his handsome face on full display.

Have I mentioned how unfair it is that he looks like that?

He’s dressed similarly to the way he was when I first met him, a tank top and running shorts.

And he’s wearing tennis shoes.

He looks down at my dress in my arms and my bag over my shoulder, before his eyes rise to meet mine. “What’s up?”

It takes me a second to find my voice. “I thought you left.”

His jaw ticks. “So you were just going to leave?”

“I thought you were already gone!” I say again, dropping my bag and dress to the floor. “Your stuff was gone.”

He brushes past me and sets the cups down on the table. He points to his duffle on the floor. “My bag is literally right there.”

“I meant your phone and wallet and cigarettes. The stuff that matters.”

He closes the distance between us and tilts my face up towards his. “Are you crying?”

I try to turn my head, but he grips my chin. I don’t need to answer. The evidence is still shining on my face.

Cupping my face, he asks, “Why?”

I bite my lip to keep my voice from wavering. “I thought you left me already.”

His thumb slowly traces my jaw. “I’m still here. I didn’t leave and I don’t plan to.”

I nod, keeping my eyes on his.

Lorcan’s dark eyes lower, settling on my lips, before meeting my gaze again. He leans down, kissing me softly.

I let him.

He pulls away, but not far. Just enough to say, “I went down to the gym to work out and then ran down the road to get us coffee.” He kisses me again. “I texted Rowan and had him ask Aelin what you usually order.”

At that, I pull back. “Really?”

He picks up one of the cups and holds it out for me. “London Fog? I think?”

The unease in his voice is…adorable.

I take the cup and pop the lid off, closing my eyes and inhaling the heady aroma of earl grey tea and a hint of sweet vanilla.

Smiling, I look up at him. “Thank you.”

He nods, a breath of relief leaving him. “You’re welcome.” He looks back to my bag and my dress on the floor and frowns. “I’m sorry I worried you. I didn’t mean to. You were sleeping so peacefully… I didn’t want to wake you, but I work out almost every single morning.”

“It’s okay,” I say, watching as he sits on the couch and takes off his tennis shoes. “I’m usually one to think of the worst. It’s a bad quality.”

He chuckles. “I think it’s a human quality.”

I take a drink of my tea and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Again. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.” I nod towards his cup. “What did you get?”

He hesitates. “Caramel mocha,” he mumbles. “Extra whip cream. Don’t judge.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Most of me expected him to tell me he ordered plain coffee, black. “No judgment. Sounds delicious.”

He grins in confirmation, though his eyes narrow on me as he takes a drink. “So, I double checked with the front desk. Our check out is at noon. My roommates are home, so I thought we’d go by my place first. They’re not…so bad.” I raise a brow at his hesitation. He chuckles and picks up the list of guidelines the team left us. “They’re assholes, but harmless. The rules say we have to see where each other lives before we choose where we want to live.”

I nod, that anxiety coming back. The last thing I want is for him to see where I live, but I know it’s part of the rules. We looked over them last night. “As long as I can finish my tea first.”

“I would never come in between a woman and her tea,” he says, and then he’s pulling a pair of jeans and a t-shirt out of his bag. “Give me a few minutes to clean up then we’ll go?”

I nod, taking the time to carefully fold my dress while he takes the world’s fastest shower and is ready to go in mere minutes. He comes out, tossing his sweaty clothes into his bag and scoops it up, along with mine. “Ready to go.”

When we get to the lobby, he pulls a valet ticket out of his wallet and gives it to the attendant. As we wait for him to pull up, Lorcan turns to face me.

“I didn’t mention it earlier, what with you trying to leave me and everything—”

I shove him, but it’s about as effective as shoving a brick wall. “I told you, I wasn’t trying to leave you.”

My laughter carries through the parking area.

“It’s a good thing I showed up when I did.” He smiles down at me and clears his throat. “What I was trying to say—”

He’s interrupted, yet again, this time by the valet pulling up in a massive, black truck, the biggest I’ve ever seen. The man has to literally drop out of the cab and as he rounds the front of the truck and hands the keys to Lorcan, my eyes go wide.

I’ve heard of boys and their toys, but this is a little ridiculous.

I also notice him slip a hundred dollar bill to the attendant and I try not to gape. That was…unexpected.

He opens the door for me and I look from the ground to the inside of the truck and then at him. “Lorcan. I can’t get in that thing. I can’t even get my leg up there.”

“Huh,” he says, as if he’s just noticed. “I guess you’re right. I’ll have to help you in.”

My eyes narrow as he approaches me, but before I can say anything, his hands are around my waist and he’s lifting me up onto the seat.

He winks at me, and just before he shuts the door he says, “I’ll get some steps put in on your side so you can get in and out on your own.”

He rounds the front, opening the door and effortlessly swinging himself into the truck. After turning the key, the rumble of the engine just as loud as expected, he pulls out of the lot and onto the main road.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” I say, quietly.

“Do what?” He glances over at me, but keeps his eyes on the road.

“Alter your truck for me.” I’m staring at my hands, grateful he can’t look over at me for more than a second.

He doesn’t respond, and at first I think that’s that and we’re moving on. But then we pull up to a red light and he looks over at me. “Don’t do that.”

I blink. “Do what?”

“Treat yourself like you’re a burden.”

The light changes before I can reply and we fall into a comfortable silence as we drive.

The team gave us a guideline sheet we're supposed to follow, and the first order of business is to move in together, whether we move in to one of our own homes together, or get an entirely new place to live. My apartment is the size of a shoebox, on top of being in a sketchy part of town. He has roommates. Neither seem like very viable options to me.

But rules are rules and Lorcan says he has a vehicle that even I can get into on my own at his house, so his place is our first stop.

We pull up to his condo and I’m baffled, even though I shouldn’t be. It’s one of the grandest buildings in the city, but he doesn’t seem to notice my shock as he parks and we walk into the lobby. The elevator has golden interior and while I’m questioning if it’s real, Lorcan presses the button to the top floor.

“You okay?” He asks. I nod, but I’m sure he knows I’m lying. I feel a ridiculous amount of nerves as the elevator lifts us up. We ride the rest of the way in silence until we get to his floor and it’s not until we stop in front of his door that he turns to look at me.

He rubs the back of his neck and the gesture is adorable.

“My roommates…” he trails off and shakes his head. “They’re nice guys. Really. But, if you think I’m vulgar you haven’t heard anything yet. I apologize for anything that comes out of their mouths.”

I laugh quietly. “And how is it you know them?”

“They’re in the Cadre,” he confesses. “Fenrys and Connall. Brothers. Fenrys has the bigger mouth. Sorry for anything you hear or see.” And with that, he’s opening the door.

The condo is quiet.

But massive.

I notice a spiral staircase in the corner, letting me know that it’s multiple stories. I can’t imagine what the rent is like for this place. My entire apartment would fit in the kitchen alone.

Lorcan takes my hand and I wrap my fingers around his. I like the way his hand feels in mine. I don’t feel as jumpy when I know he’s there. He grounds me.

He shows me the living room and the kitchen, both which are empty, and down the hall to a cinema room. It’s set up like a tiny theater but no one is in it. Across from it is an in-home gym.

“You have a gym in here but prefer to go to the gym with Rowan?” I ask, unable to put any of my other thoughts into words.

He shrugs. “Depends what day it is.”

We continue our tour until we’re walking up the stairs and up to the second floor. The bedrooms are here, I assume, and so is a large gaming room where two similar looking males are sitting on a giant couch, playing Call of Duty. They must be twins.

Thinking past the haze in my mind, I remember them from the wedding.

While their faces are nearly identical matches, they’re opposites in almost every other way. One light, one dark. One in a tank top and board shorts, the other a long-sleeved henley and jeans. The dark twin, he looks put together, despite his long hair. It’s clean and shiny and looks like he actually put effort into his appearance. The blonde one, however, his hair is loose and wavy, messy in an I just woke up and rolled out of bed look.

I turn to my husband, who has a balanced look of the two. He may not be as neat as the man before me swearing at his brother, but I also get the feeling the brutal ruggedness about him wouldn’t be as appealing if he were. Thankfully, it looks like he at least regularly combs his hair.

“If it isn’t the newlyweds,” the blonde one says, noticing us first. “Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?”

I tense, but Lorcan’s thumb brushes back and forth over the back of my hand. “Decided to take some time to get to know each other first.”

The one with dark hair nods, as if he thinks we’re making the smart move. “What a small world. You two could have met any time in the past couple years and would have had no idea you were talking to your future spouse.”

I don’t mention that we did in fact meet just over a month ago, and let me just say, I had absolutely no idea I was talking to my future spouse.

Not that I even said much to him.

All I did was judge him by his appearance and his occupation. Now, I’m seeing that I should probably get to know him first.

“Maybe that means it was meant to be,” Lorcan says and winks at me. I chuckle. “Fenrys and Connall.” He points from one to the other. “Brothers, although one’s a bigger pain in the ass.”

Fenrys grins. “Nice to officially meet you. You made a beautiful bride.”

I’m nearly shocked by his compliment. Although, I feel he’s a man that compliments a woman often.

“Is this the part where you’re trying to figure out where to live?” Connall asks. When Lorcan says yes, he says, “No offense, and of course you’re welcome here, but do you really want to live with three guys in a bachelor pad?”

I laugh as I look around the room. The entire apartment is clean and decently neat, but it’s clear that there has never been a woman’s touch. Just a weekly maid’s. “Honestly? Not particularly.” I look to Lorcan, who is laughing quietly. “But, the rules say we have to see where each other lives.”

“So you’ll be living at your place?” Fenrys asks, and I don’t answer. Thankfully he doesn’t give me much time to do so. “Sad day, Lorcan moving out on us.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure Elide prefers to live in a place that at least looks like it's not the inside of a typical man’s brain come to life,” Lorcan mutters, reading my mind.

“Seriously, it looks like a woman has never stepped foot in here until now,” I joke.

But my laughter dies as Fenrys says, “Hasn’t been that long, has it, Lor?”

It’s a joke. I know it’s a joke, but I sense the underlying meaning, sense there’s something he was hinting at.

Connall smacks Fenrys in the back of the head as Lorcan turns to me. “Don’t listen to him—”

“What does he mean by that?” I ask, voice quiet.

“Nothing,” Lorcan says, and glares in Fenrys’ direction. At least he has the mind to give me an apologetic look. “He talks without thinking.”

“Lorcan.” My voice leaves no room for discussion. “Please don’t bullshit me.”

With set lips, Lorcan gives one more look to the brothers before pulling me out of the room.

He drops my hand and rubs his jaw. I don’t know what he’s going to say but I hate the waiting. He goes with, “I’m not a virgin, Elide.”

I’m fully aware of that fact but he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like it explains everything. “But it hasn’t been very long since the last time you’ve been with someone, apparently.” I gesture to the closed door that we just came out of. “So how long has it been?”

At first he doesn’t answer and I shake my head, taking a step back.

He frowns. “Elide—”

“Had you been accepted into the program?” I ask, and when he flinches I know my answer.

“About six weeks ago—” he begins, but I’m already turned around, trying to find my way out of the damn place.

In any other situation, I probably would have busted my ass on the spiral stairs, especially considering my pace and the thundering steps behind me. But I don’t. Instead, I hit the main floor, aiming for the door. I don’t take two steps before his hand wraps around my wrist. “Elide, please, just—”

“Please what?” I ask, turning on him. His eyes are guarded, as if he was expecting my reaction.

He knew I’d be angry, and rightly so. It’s been over six months since our applications went in for this. He knew he would be getting married, knew he was technically engaged, but still.

Shaking my head, I pull my arm from his grip. I can’t believe he slept with someone just weeks ago, when he knew we were going to get married. Part of the deal was that we were supposed to stop dating, relationships, and having sex with others when we found out we had our match and set our wedding date. That was over three months ago.

He still hasn’t answered, so I say, “You knew about me then. You already knew our wedding date. It’s not like they sprung this on you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you. I just knew the wedding was going to happen.”

I laugh, the sound humorless. “And that wasn’t enough?”

“I don't know, I didn't even think about it in that way. I was just doing my usual shit.” he says, and I can tell he wants to reach out again. I step back so he won’t. “Look, I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. It was just sex with some groupies. It didn't mean anything. It never means anything.”

Scoffing, I cross my arms. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

He crosses the room and drops onto the couch. “Fuck, no, of course, it isn’t.” Dragging a hand through his loose, messy hair, he looks up at me. “I just didn’t want you to think I had some girlfriend on the side or something.”

I start pacing before I can stop myself and I can feel his gaze on me the whole time. I don’t want to think about this. I don’t want to think about my new husband having sex with random women, while we were supposed to be thinking about getting married and committing to each other in every way. I was so excited when I found out they had my match picked and I was technically considered engaged. All I could think about was finally meeting him. I dreamed of what he’d look like, who he was, how he’d act, who we’d be together. I dreamed he was wondering the same about me.

Meanwhile, he was screwing groupies with no thought or care about me at all.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time, and I turn to look at him. “I messed up, Elide, and I know that, but I won’t do it again, I promise.”

There’s that humorless laugh again. I sound insane. “You won’t fuck a random groupie or you won’t mess up?”

His eyes narrow on me slightly, but he says, “Both. I’m done fucking groupies and I’m going to do my best not to mess up anymore.”

I release a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, my rage deflating. It’s in the past and there’s nothing that can be done about it now.

Except for one thing.

“What about the tests? Are you still clean?”

One of the more invasive things we’d had to do was a full scale test to ensure no one in the program had any sort of STD they could pass on to their partner. But those were done right after our wedding date was set. He still was having sex weeks after that.

“I’m clean,” Lorcan promises, not getting angry like I expected him to, since I was practically accusing him of having a venereal disease. “I always wear protection and was tested two weeks ago.”

I nod, my anger simmering, but nothing like it was. It’s probably safe for me to sit next to him without strangling him, so I cross the room and sit on the couch next to him. “Does Yrene know?” His brows knit together in confusion and I realize not everyone calls her by her first name apparently. I add, “Dr. Towers.”

He shakes his head quickly. “I definitely didn’t tell her.”

Snorting, I look back up the spiral staircase. “She probably would have kicked you out of the study if she found out.”

“Yeah, and I’d…like to keep that from happening,” he says, drawing my gaze back to his.

My jaw is set. “Fine. I won’t say anything, as long as you don’t fuck anymore groupies.”

Those dark eyes are trained on me, but he says nothing for a second before asking, “Are you jealous?”

I blink. “What?”

He leans in, just a bit. “I get that you’re pissed, and that’s fair. But are you jealous?”

Tripping over my words, I pray that my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “No.”

I’ve seen his body. It’s…magnificent. And I know the reputation he has. I can only imagine that he knows what he’s doing.

The thought has heat pooling in my core.

There’s just enough hesitation that his grin grows. “How long has it been for you?”

“Since what?”

He leans in a little more. “Since you had sex with someone.”

And now I’m sure my cheeks are just as red as I think they are. “That’s none of your business, but I can assure you, it’s a lot longer than six weeks ago. I followed the rules.”

“Good for you,” he murmurs, and I can feel his breath on my lips. “Now tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me,” he repeats and I feel his hands on my side. “Or I’ll tickle you.”

I swat his hands away, although I can scarcely breathe with him so close. My voice is a whisper when I say, “No and don’t you dare.”

He dared.

His fingers attack my ribs and I erupt into a fit of giggles that overpowers my anger as my head falls back and my back arches. “Stop it!”

He does not and when I meet his eye, he’s grinning. I try to scoot back but I can barely move. I’m ticklish. I know as much. Now, so does he. He keeps tickling me and I’m unable to stop my laughter.

“Fine!” I yell, and I’m smiling so wide that my face hurts. His fingers halt and he looks at me with raised brows. “It’s been…a while.”

He blinks. “Yeah, I’ve collected that. Doesn’t tell me how long.”

And then he’s tickling me again and my laughter and yelling and squirming resumes. Next thing I know, I’ve fallen back against the couch and he comes with me. His fingers still dance along my sides as he gets on his knees between my spread legs. As if he realizes the same time I do, his fingers come to a stop.

We’re both breathing heavily and grinning like fools, although there’s a glint in his eye now that wasn’t there before. My cheeks are flushed and the strap of my tank top is hanging off my shoulder.

He doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

Instead, his hands fall from my sides to the couch cushions on both sides of me. He hovers there on all fours and his eyes fall from mine to my lips then back again.

“You know, I can fix that for you,” he says, and his voice is dangerously low. “When you’re ready. You deserve to have someone make you feel good.”

My toes curl and I forget how to breathe.

As if he needs to prove it, he lets me have a little of his weight, pressing me into the couch. His hips nestle between my parted thighs and I can feel his cock pressed up against me.

“I thought I wasn’t what you wanted.” My voice is breathy, betraying the fact that he’s affecting me in all the wrong ways, though he’d probably say they’re the right ways.

“I thought so, too.” His voice is low, so deep it’s almost just a rumble in his chest. I feel it in my core and fight off the urge to shudder. He brushes a thumb over my lips and then begins to trail a hand down my body, over my ribs and hips until he’s gripping one of my thighs. He pulls me into him at the same time he leans down into me. “But my body apparently wants you…and I think yours wants me too.”

A little gasp escapes me as I breathe, “I want more than that.”

He leans down, brushing his lips against mine in a whisper of a kiss. “I know you do.”

He rocks his hard cock against me and I’m unable to stop the soft moan from tumbling from my lips. He does it a second time and then a third, and then kisses me.

Not a kiss like we shared this morning or a soft brush of the lips.

Lorcan kisses me like a man kisses his wife.

It’s over nearly as quickly as it started, though, and he’s pulling away. “I told you I’d respect your decision, and I will. But I won’t quit trying. Just tell me when to stop and I will, no questions asked.”

I blink, my mind hazy and lust addled. “Wait. You’re going to respect my decision to wait to have sex with you, by trying to have sex with me?”

Tendrils of his hair have fallen loose of his bun and are framing his face. It should honestly be illegal to be this handsome, it’s not fair.

“I’m not going to have sex with you until you explicitly tell me that’s what you want,” he says, leaning in. I can smell his cinnamon toothpaste. “But you can’t tell me you didn’t like what we just did, that you don’t want me to do it again.

I stay quiet, because he’s right, I can’t and I won’t lie.

He grins, knowing the thoughts that are running through my mind.

“Kiss me,” I beg, and he does.

He kisses me in that way again that has me questioning my very existence. His body falls into mine and I can feel the long, thick length of him against my thigh. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have him inside of me. Would I even survive that? He’s so much bigger than I am, I should have known that his cock is massive, too. The thought has my mind reeling and a throbbing forming between my legs that I don’t think I’ll recover from.

His tongue slides against mine and I moan quietly, causing his arm to tighten around my waist.

Kissing him is easy.

If only fucking him was just as easy. The empty ache of my sex grows frustrating and I grind against him for any sort of satisfaction. It must please him, because he groans into my mouth.

Then my thoughts get the better of me.

Six weeks. He was with someone else six weeks ago.

It may have meant nothing, but I can’t just give myself to this man because we signed our marriage certificate. No, he has to earn me. I’ve saved myself since Ren and I wont give my body away over simple lust.

Even though I want him.

Even though the thought of his cock deep inside me will most likely keep me up tonight.

I break the kiss and he looks at me, wild eyed and breathing fast. I can still feel him against my thigh and it’s so damn distracting. I’m tempted to reach out and touch it but I don’t, I refrain, even though it goes against every ounce of my being.

“Stop?” He asks, chest heaving.

Gods, this man.

I nod, not trusting my voice, and without another word, he’s pushing himself off of the couch and offering me a hand up as well. He adjusts himself in his pants and, by the mother, I can see it through his jeans. It’s one thing to feel it, it’s another to see it. I realize that I’m staring at his crotch far longer than I should be.

I look up to find Lorcan already watching me, smirking. Clearing my throat, I pull the strap of my tank top back up and straighten the rest of my clothes, knowing my cheeks, ears, and chest are red.

“So,” I say, clearing my throat. “Living here is a no then?”

“I don’t think so.” He gestures towards the door. “I’m ready if you’re ready.”

My eyes go to the spiral staircase. “Should we tell them we’re leaving?”

He takes my hand in his, lacing our fingers together as we head for the door. “Probably best if I don’t see Fen for a few days.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “For telling me the truth?”

“Even if he didn’t mean to and was just running his mouth?” He looks down at me and sighs, but admits, “Yeah.”

His fingers loosen around mine and I think he’s expecting me to pull my hand away. But I don’t. As soon as we’re out in the hall, I say, “I’m glad he did. I’d rather find out now, than three months down the road.”

It’s quiet for a moment as we wait for the elevator. Just before it arrives, I whisper, “If you have any more secrets, now would be the time to tell me.”

The door opens and we step inside. “No more,” he says, pressing the button for the ground floor. “That’s the only one.”

As he says it, his fingers tighten around mine, as if he doesn’t want me to pull away.

I can’t help but think that means there’s more.

#til death do us part #tddup #elorcan #elorcan tddup #throne of glass #snacmc collabs #snelbz x tacmc collabs #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan lochan #lord lorcan lochan #elide x lorcan

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rxmuz · 2 years

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Red is the Color of Temptation CH.3

ao3 link

Idk why I didn't think to post the fic here as well but whatever lol. I'll post the first two chapters after this! Anyways, horny thoughts about old fat man and his stomach and excuse my shitty writing skills, I'm new to this 😭

(btw this isn't a first person fic, I just wrote it this way for this chapter!)

word count: 2.3k

It's 6 am when I clock out. The sun hadn't risen yet but there was a light sprinkle falling. As soon as I get home I get into the shower, washing off the grease and sweat from my shift. I usually only had a few minutes under the spray before the streaming water turns lukewarm and then freezing.

The shower helped to soothe my aching muscles but I was still tired. Not enough to fall asleep but enough that I didn't even have the energy to get up and fix myself something to eat.

It's three weeks later that I'm sitting on my couch and mindlessly browsing through channels.

My place doesn't really have any decorations, a few pictures here and there but outside of that, it looked like no one lived here.

There are two leather layers, a coffee table made of faux wood in the living room, and two hanging photographs on my wall. It was a single bedroom apartment, the room consisting of a queen bed, a desk, and a medium-sized drawer.

It's not much but it's something. It's mine, even if I have to work at a club owned by criminals.

I truly don't mind though.

I didn't have the best upbringing, but that could be said for a lot of people in Gotham.

My mother died when I was three so it was just me, my two siblings, and my dad until I moved out. My dad worked two regular jobs and some odd jobs then a there, those odd jobs being some work for the mob in our neighborhood. When my twin brother and I were old enough we started to run errands for them. Delivering money, packages, and letters for whoever needed them. It was enough to help our dad pay the bills and we really didn't mind. It was the norm for us.

That was until my brother was killed.

Shot dead in the middle of the sidewalk walking home from school. It was a drive-by and they had mistaken him for someone else. We had just turned 15.

My dad took me and my younger sister and all the money we had and moved to the outskirts of the city. That was about 8 years ago.

It's hard to lose a sibling but it's a different pain to lose a twin. For the first few years, I didn't feel like myself, I still don't but I've gotten better. The grievance isn't as strong, and the pain doesn't hurt as much, but the loneliness is still there.

But I kept moving.

I always do.

By the time I finally fall asleep it's around 4 pm in the afternoon but I don't sleep for long. I wake up about two hours later. I look around for my phone for a bit before I find it under one of the cushions of my couch. I unlock it to find several messages waiting for me. Three from Chez and one from Oz. He texts me every day or so to check up on me but every time I'm still slightly shocked to see a message from him

Cheeze: hru?

The topic moves on.

Cheeze: are u fucking mr boss man? Cheese: wait are you sleeping?

Fuck hell.

Me: …not anymore Me: go away!

The answer I receive is instantaneous.

Cheeze: so thats a yes…lol! Cheeze: he good in bed or???

Me: i am not fucking mr boss man Me: why would you even think that?

My phone buzzes again.

Cheeze: i saw you go into his office Cheeze: is it considered a office? Cheeze: it don't got a door dawg…

I genuinely need new fucking friends. Actually, just a “friend” because Chez is my only friend.

I am not lonely…

I am not lying…

I don't even want to give her the satisfaction of a reply, but I'm so bored I end up replying anyway.

Me: it's a private room. Me: he has an office with a door in the 44. Me: this doesn't mean im fucking him

I decide to ignore the new messages Chez sends, instead going to look at Oz's message.

Oz: Are you up? You got time for an early dinner?

What do I even say to this? I know Oz isn't the typical boss but it's not like I can out with him.

Wait is this a date? By definition, sure. In my mind, maybe, though he could just consider this as him checking up on me.

Me: I wouldn't call 6 pm an early dinner

Oz is typing…

Oz: It is if you sleep through the day!

Well, that was quick.

I don't date anyone, I don't meet anyone, and I practically don't speak to anyone beyond what was necessary. I only ever go out with Chez if I'm feeling up to it. I'm not really a people person. But this is completely different. It wouldn't really mean anything if this was a date. It could be like a friend date, like the ones I have with Chez.

Am I even friends with Oz? I'm pretty sure I am. We've been talking more during my shifts, I've even been making him some new drinks for him to test. We even played cards together!

We're definitely friends. Totally!

Me: Sure why not :)

I stare at the screen, waiting for the three dot-dot-dots designating a response.

I'm nervous.

Oz: I'll pick you up Oz: Think you can be ready in about 30 minutes?

Wait what?

Me: U KNOW WHERE I LIVE?!?!?!

A new text bubble forms, only to disappear. It pops up again.

Oz: You should know better

Me: wut does that even mean

Oz: See you in 30

He's going to drive me fucking insane.

---

I get up to open the door 30 minutes later when there's a knock on the door. I open it to find Oz leaning against the right side of my door, his arm above my head and sweat running down his brow. He looks exhausted and like he's in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“Can I sit?” He rasps out, not answering my question.

“Yeah, of course.” I say as I step out of the way.

He moves past me, making a beeline to the couch closet from us, and his limp is more obvious. He takes a seat and leans back into my couch. I don't know what to do so I just stand there and watch him. Luckily Oz speaks for me.

“Your elevator is out,” He pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, and sighs. “Had to walk up 3 flights of stairs. I just need a minute to rest.”

“Shit sorry, I thought you would call me to come down,” I say, moving towards him, “If I knew you were coming up I woulda told you the elevator on this side was out.”

He only grunts.

“I've got some painkillers if you want them.”

"Hmm?"

“For your leg. I'm assuming that's the problem.”

He opens his eyes again and turns his head to look at me. He looks surprised that I even offered. It kind of makes me sad.

“Yeah I would appreciate that.” he mumbles.

When I get back with the painkillers and a bottle of water, he's leaning forward on his knee and his bad leg stretched out in front of him. He looks lost in thought and doesn't hear me the first time I call him.

“Here you go Oz.”

He smiles.

“Thank you doll.”

He has a beautiful smile.

I know Oz isn't considered attractive by societal views. He's an old heavyset guy riddled with scars that has a limp, not your average-looking Joe. Yet I personally think he's nice to look at. Scars are something endearing to me, they tell a story visually. They are proof of a life of hard graft, pain, and strong will.

Plus bigger guys are more my style anyway.

I wouldn't say I'm in love, definitely not that, but over the past few weeks of talking to him and being in his presence, I would say I have a pretty decent crush on him. He's just really interesting to me. He's a mystery I want to solve and immerse myself in. I find that most days my mind wanders to the thought of him, thinking of the things he could possibly be doing. Counting cash, smoking a cigar, or beating the shit out of someone. I'm not blind to the things that Oz gets up to and he's made that distinctly clear since we've started talking.

Yet I'm drawn to this dangerous, unattainable man in a way that's completely indescribable.

I know I shouldn't be getting as close as I am to him but I can't help it. I'm fucking lonely and I can tell he his too. We both need a real friend.

No harm in it.

“Why did you want to go to dinner?” I ask, trying to refocus on actually talking to Oz rather than staring at him.

“Why? Not interested in a free meal before work?” he chuckles.

I click my tongue, “I didn't say that, I was just curious is all.”

“I needed to get out, so why not get out with someone that I can keep a genuine conversation with.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“What do you mean nuh-uh?

"Me? Keep a conversation? You're real funny Oz.”

“You don't think ya can?” he's laughing again, the pain that was once on his face now residing.

“It's more of me just answering your questions, you're the one that keeps it going.”

“Well I like your answers girlie.”

I smile, small and coy.

“Glad you think so, Oz.”

His mouth quirks, and stretches his bad ankle a few times before standing up from the couch.

“We should get going.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“I don't know, I assumed you had someplace in mind,” I say standing next to him, “What do you want?”

He chuckles, “I'll pretty much eat anything.”

My lips turn into a soft small smile, “How 'bout Mexican?”

He smiles and nods.

---

I hadn't noticed what Oz was wearing when he first came by, more so worried about him, but now that we're walking into the restaurant, I take the time to really look him over. He's wearing a fine suit, black pants and a shirt so dark it seems to swallow the light around it, and a red jacket so rich I've never seen it before. He tops it off with a white tie.

He looks handsome.

Me, on the other hand, I looked raggedy. I'm wearing a pair of dark blue wide-leg pants, a cropped black sweater with a white and red flannel over it, and a pair of old Doc Martens.

My favorite dirty boots by the way.

I should've known that Oz wouldn't take us somewhere more casual. We're at this place called Javier's Cantina. It's definitely out of my price range, the place is covered in beautiful dark brown wood and tan stone walls. High ceilings with long lanterns and ceiling fans hanging from them, filling the room with low yellowish light. It was beautiful.

“Wow.'' is all I can muster.

“Like it?”

“Yeah! This place is amazing, never been anywhere this nice.”

“I'm glad you like it sweetheart.” he chuckles as a waiter leads us to a booth.

When we get to the table Oz waits for me to sit before he settles in on the other side of the booth. It's a little bit of a squeeze for him and I can't help but look at the paunch of his gut that pushes into the table. He sucks in before readingjusting himself. There's a hint of a blush on the top of his hears and I can't help but feel bad for the slight look of discomfort on his face.

I smile to reassure him, “We got in pretty quickly…did you threaten someone?” I tease.

“Nah, just called in a favor from an old friend.” the change of direction seemed to help.

“Let me guess. A friend of a friend of a friend?”

He laughs and folds his arms over his stomach, “You just think you're hot shit, don't ya?”

“Yeah, actually, I do.”

“At least you're honest about it.”

"Of course! I would never lie to you Oz.” I say in mock offense.

He snorts, his mouth pulling into a brief, sideways smile.

The two of us fall into a companionable silence as we look over the menu. I ended up ordering a small platter of mixed enchiladas while Oz ordered a sizable steak with veggies and a bottle of wine for us to share. We made short work of the wine as I chatted about work, mostly ranting about the annoying assholes that grace the club and how my landlord wouldn't come to fix my damn dishwasher.

I had a pleasant little buzz but it appeared Oz was able to hold his drink better than me. That was okay though, as he continued to let me rant freely.

“The asshole had the audacity to look surprised when one of the twins kicked him out.”

“You seemed to handle it pretty well though.”

“Had to,” I pause, raising my eyebrows slightly, “Wouldn't want to get fired by you, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Hmm, I wouldn't fire you, you're the best bartender I've had in a long while.”

There's a long pause, before “It is…plus if I got rid of you, who else would I have to talk to?”

“You've got a club full of people to talk to every night.”

“That's true but I like talking to you the most,” he says.

I stare at him.

“Are we friends?”

He stares back and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck raise and my hands becoming clammy.

But then I notice something, he's just as surprised by the sudden question as I am.

“Yeah - uh - at least I think we are.

“Good, I like being your friend Oz.”

#Oswald Cobblepot #oswald cobblepot x reader #The Penguin #the penguin x reader #oz cobblepot #Oz!penguin #colin farrell penguin #Colin!penguin #red is the color of temptation

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nandiniblogs · 11 months

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: Homemade Skincare Remedies: A DIY Guide to Naturally Radiant Skin

Introduction:

In a international flooded with business skincare merchandise, it is clean to miss the easy yet powerful remedies that may be crafted at home. DIY skin care gives a natural and price-effective opportunity, allowing you to take manage of what you put on your skin. Embracing the energy of nature, this text gives a comprehensive manual to homemade skincare remedies for a healthy, radiant complexion. So, let's delve into the arena of DIY skin care and discover the wonders hidden on your kitchen pantry.

Cleansing Delights: a) Honey and Yogurt Cleanser: Combine one tablespoon of uncooked honey with tablespoons of plain yogurt. Gently massage onto your face, then rinse with warm water. Honey moisturizes, at the same time as yogurt exfoliates and soothes, leaving your skin refreshed and nourished.

B) Oatmeal and Milk Scrub: Mix same parts of finely floor oatmeal and milk to create a paste. Apply it in round motions to exfoliate and put off dead skin cells. Rinse with lukewarm water for a smoother, rejuvenated complexion.

Nourishing Face Masks: a) Avocado and Banana Mask: Mash 1/2 a ripe avocado and one ripe banana collectively until easy. Apply the mixture for your face and leave it on for 15 minutes. Avocado moisturizes and nourishes, at the same time as banana gives a lift of antioxidants, leaving your skin gentle and supple.

B) Turmeric and Yogurt Mask: Combine one teaspoon of turmeric powder with tablespoons of plain yogurt. Apply the paste in your face and depart it on for 10-15 mins. Turmeric acts as an anti inflammatory and brightening agent, whilst yogurt soothes and hydrates, ensuing in a radiant complexion.

Rejuvenating Toners: a) Rosewater and Witch Hazel Toner: Mix same elements of rosewater and witch hazel in a smooth bottle. Apply the combination to a cotton pad and gently swipe it over your face after cleaning. Rosewater hydrates and balances the pores and skin's pH, even as witch hazel acts as an astringent, tightening pores and lowering inflammation.

B) Green Tea Toner: Steep a green tea bag in warm water for a few minutes, then allow it to chill. Transfer the tea to a sprig bottle and spritz it onto your face or follow with a cotton pad. Green tea is wealthy in antioxidants, assisting to combat unfastened radicals and improve the general fitness of your pores and skin.

Hydrating Moisturizers: a) Aloe Vera Gel: Extract fresh gel from an aloe vera leaf and follow it immediately to your skin. Aloe vera moisturizes, soothes irritation, and promotes recuperation, making it an extremely good herbal moisturizer.

B) Coconut Oil: Warm a small amount of coconut oil between your fingers, then lightly rub down it into your pores and skin. Coconut oil is deeply hydrating and rich in antioxidants, assisting to restore and top off your pores and skin's herbal moisture barrier.

Conclusion:

By embracing the strength of herbal components, DIY skin care remedies provide a brilliant opportunity to business products. From cleansers and masks to toners and moisturizers, the kitchen pantry holds an array of treasures on your pores and skin. Not only are these remedies fee-powerful, however in addition they permit you to personalize your skin care recurring in line with your particular needs. So, dive into the sector of selfmade skincare and unlock the secrets and techniques to obviously radiant and healthy pores and skin.

#DIY Remedies #skincare routine #tips for glowing skin

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delifoodsmanufacturer · 1 year

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Rice Starch Is Not Just For Cooking

Rice starch is a versatile natural ingredient. In cooking it is mainly used as a thickening agent, while in beauty and child care it is recommended as a highly delicate product for the most sensitive skins. Rice starch is a very fine white powder. It dissolves easily in water without caking. When in contact with the skin, rice starch has soothing, refreshing, calming and antipruritic properties. It is a polysaccharide extracted from rice flour and is used in cooking and natural cosmetics. Rice starch in cooking Rice starch is primarily used as a thickener and to prepare gluten-free recipes. If you can't find rice starch, you can use rice flour as a cooking ingredient, which is available in almost all supermarkets these days. In cooking, rice starch is used in candies to make them lighter and to facilitate fermentation. Try adding a spoonful of rice starch to a classic cake batter. Try using rice starch instead of eggs in vegan baked desserts (1 tablespoon per egg). Rice starch can also be used as a substitute for flour to make cream and puddings. This way, if you use rice starch instead of wheat flour, you will have gluten-free recipes. The advantage of rice starch is that it has a neutral taste and is suitable for both sweet and savory dishes. So, depending on your needs, you can use 1 or 2 tablespoons without problem to thicken soups, soft soups, vegetable purees, gravies, sauces and sauces. Baby rice starch In natural product stores, you can find rice starch sold as a specialty child care product. You'll recognize it by the following text on the label: oryza sativa (rice) starch. Rice starch is a natural ingredient that is often recommended for cleansing the skin of infants and young children. Their delicate skin doesn't need harsh cleansers. Simply add a little rice starch to your bath water to relieve irritation, redness and itching. Rice Starch Beauty Rice starch has a very nice consistency, almost like dusting powder. This property makes it very useful, somewhat like cornstarch, in the preparation of face masks and other skin care and beauty products. Mask or Refining Scrub Basic uses of rice starch in skin care include simply preparing a creamy mixture of rice starch and water: Pour 2 tablespoons of rice starch into a small bowl and add 1 or 2 teaspoons of water. Mix until a mixture of uniform consistency is obtained. Add a little more water if necessary. The compound can be used as both a face mask and a gentle scrub for the skin if you make it more grainy. Apply the Rice Starch Mask to the face in slow circular motions. Leave it on for about 10-15 minutes or in any case until it dries, then rinse your face with lukewarm water. mosquito bites and redness A simple compound consisting of rice starch and water can be used to rub on the skin to prevent redness from insect bites or shaving. Even adults with delicate skin, like children, can add rice starch to the water in their bath or foot bath to benefit from its soothing properties. Your skin will be very supple thanks to the rice starch. cleasing milk Try using a mixture of rice starch and water (or possibly rice milk) as a natural cleanser for your face, applied with a sponge or cotton ball. dry shampoo As far as hair care is concerned, rice starch is first used as a dry shampoo, and a small amount is applied to the hair roots, left for a few minutes, and then removed with a soft brush. Where can I buy rice starch? Wuhu Deli Foods Co., Ltd. is a professional catering manufacturer and exporter with more than 20 years of history in China. Deli foods are committed to researching and developing high-quality health foods to provide customers with quality rice starch,natural honey, Honey Products, Syrup Products, Vegan Protein, and Dried Syrup. Improve your life by awakening your senses and improving the quality of your life. The quality and service of all Deli products are critical. Deli foods mission is to help customers succeed through products and services. The quality is Deli foods life so we continually innovate, create a new standard. High quality, fair prices, and customer satisfaction. Our factory ensures the highest standards of quality in its production processes and has received HACCP.HALAL.KOSHER. etc. Read the full article

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mochii-the-furry · 2 years

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Now, I'm not good with this stuff- never had depression, so idk what'll help, what wont, but heres what I would recommend.

• Go and get some fresh air. Take a walk. Sit on the ground. Ride a bike/scooter/skateboard if you can.

• Talk to someone. A family member, a pet, even a stranger on the sidewalk you just met. And if you cant do that, text or email. Dont worry, they're likely to respond. If they dont, dont worry. They're not ignoring you. Probably at the gym or something and cant get to you right now. They'll get to you eventually, dont stress.

• Watch some funny videos, like memes, try not to laugh challenges, anything you think is funny. Or, if instead of being the loud earrape kind of person, your instead the calm, slow things kind of person, listen to calming instrumental music, or some slow, soothing lofi beats.

• Create something. Whether it be an animation, a clay sculpture, even if it's just a little doodle, make something. If you'd like to, you can even share it to places like Twitter or Reddit. Heck, you could even post it here! Just as long as you make something, and, if wanted, share it, you can move onto whatever you wanna do next.

• Meditate. Hum a song, if you need to. Try to calm your body, dont tense it. That wont help.

• Try to cleanse yourself. It could be by brushing your teeth. Could be by taking a shower. Could even be by just washing your face. Just clean yourself up a bit. It could be calming, and a bath (the kind where you lay on the bottom of your bathtub, you're not standing for this one) could possibly help with muscle tension and muscle spasms. I would reccomend lukewarm water, but you can adjust to however you like.

• Read a book. And if it's a good book, then you'll definitely feel good while reading it. If you finish, find another. If you dont have any others, stop by the local library. Read a few more like that one. Or, you could try a different genre. Ie, say you read a comic-like book, (something like Diary of a Wimpy Kid) but you wanna try something else, I'd reccomend going to the mystery section. Read a few of Mary Downing Hahn's books. They're really suspenseful, and a bit spooky. I like her books. ^^)

• Listen to ASMR sounds. It could be slime, it could be the sound of snow being packed together, it could be the sound of drenched mud being stepped in, anything that is in the ASMR section.

• Touch grass. No, literally, go and lay in the grass. The spiky but not sharp feeling mixed with the bumby but soft feeling just... idk. It feels good. :)

That's all I have. Hope this helps!

#tips

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itsonlydana · 3 years

Note

Hey!! I just wanted to say, you’re an amazing writer!! I love your works so much, and you really have a knack for writing, I keep going back to read your works because they’re just that good 😌

Anyways, is it fine if I request for a schlatt x female! reader fluff, where schlatt maybe gets jealous of your friendship with another streamer and out of jealousy and frustration he kinda just confesses?

"bitter jealousy" ➷ jschlatt

a/n: thank you so much for the kind words!! It makes me happy that you enjoy my work so much you keep coming back, thats exactly want to achieve with my writing! Hope this is what you imagined :)

pairing: jschlatt x reader (female)

tags/warning: fluff, bit of angst

words: 2648

@(y/n)tweetsalot: Will just tried to drown me after a fan only wanted a picture with me and not him. lil jealous boy | @ tommyinnit: I can confirm this happened. He doesn't respect women like I do. (y/n), I would have never done something like this to you | @ JackManifoldTwo: He is unhinged, but thanks for the content! | @ Nihaachu: I understand the fan, I would want a picture with just you as well @(y/n)tweetsalot: okay, he gave me a kiss on the cheek. Everything is fine now! <3 *picture*

Humming to yourself, you edited the photos you had taken throughout the day, the different images making you mourn the moments, even though you had only parted from the group two hours ago.

The last few days have been what you would call "the perfect summer" for you. Not only had your new keyboard for your streaming set-up arrived a week ago, but the sun had finally made an appearance in Brighton.

As much as you enjoyed your cozy streams with the soothing patter of rain against your window panes, it motivated you much more to get up in the morning to sunshine and stream with the window open.

Your large windows tho were a disadvantage in the afternoon when the sun drove your room temperatures to almost unbearable, so you focused on streaming in the morning -to the delight of your European fans- and editing videos, and spent the rest of the day with your friends, shooting vlogs, and then in the cooler night, you would do a second longer stream, mostly on the DreamSMP or with the American half of your friends.

You had postponed this second stream today, the meeting and filming for Jack's new vlog had taken a lot out of you and in short your energy was not enough to amuse your viewers.

Instead, you relaxed to one of your quieter Spotify playlists, letting the music carry your thoughts on the day's experiences while you tapped away on your phone, changing some brightness on the photos.

After arriving home you had taken a shower right away, the saltwater had settled in your hair, which you were now drying in the lukewarm air through the open window. It was one of those evenings when you had taken extra time to remove your makeup, wash your face and work the care products into your hair, you had even used the face cream recommended by Niki for the first time and after a day that had cost you a lot of your energy it felt deserved to do something good for you and your body.

The scented candle on your desk gave off a pleasant mild smell of lavender, it mixed with the steam of your hot tea which left a refreshing floral taste with a hint of lemon in your mouth and definitely washed down the last remnants of the saltwater you had swallowed because of Will.

You leaned forward in your chair, grabbing the cup with one hand, and had just lifted it to your lips for a sip when a 'ping' drowned out your music, and discord's little message window popped up on the side of the screen.

schlatt: "you up?"

A smile crept onto your lips at the message, you hadn't heard from Schlatt all day, which didn't happen often. Usually, you had conversations over text throughout the day, sending each other funny pictures or tiktoks, but today there hadn't even been a reply to your tweets. So you were all the more pleased that he had texted you.

you: "is this a booty call?"

schlatt: "will you take the call if i say yes?"

you: "ill take the call no matter what:)"

schlatt: "simp"

you: "now i wont answer >:("

schlatt: "cry about it"

Not even a second later, the call sound played and Schlatt's profile picture popped up on your screen. Although the sound wasn't one of your favorites, you took the time to let it play while you made yourself comfortable on your chair and turned on your microphone.

The mouse cursor moved over the screen, first you stopped Spotify, and then you accepted the video call.

As soon as the window with his picture grew bigger, so did the grin on your face. "Do you have a man-bun?" you giggled, lifting your leg up on the chair to rest your arms on your knee.

Schlatt set his cell phone down on the table in front of him, folding his arms behind his head. "Maybe! So what?" As with the music before, you didn't see the need to put on headphones, you were far too warm for that.

"Are you going to eat avocado toast for breakfast soon and do your Harry Potter house quiz?" you raised your eyebrows challengingly, and now the corners of Schlatt's mouth twitched as well.

Despite the jokes, you liked his new hairstyle, or rather what he grew. Even the chops and the upper lip beard had done it to you in the meantime. His soft-looking curls had something special about them, and even more so that little bun he was wearing them in.

"Says you ms bri'ish?" he laughed softly, careful to speak in an extra fake dialect as you lifted your cup and took a sip with your fingers stretched out.

Maybe it was the tea, or maybe it was the way Schlatt was looking at you at that moment, but your cheeks began to glow and you fanned yourself with one hand.

"Is it very warm where you are?" asked Schlatt without any joke in his voice.

You nodded. A quick glance at the thermometer on your wall told you that despite the late hour, it was almost exactly as warm as it had been all day, perhaps a little cooler since the sun was no longer beating down on the city, but still just as humid. "Right now it's almost unbearable at noon. These temperatures make me want to lock myself in the bathroom and just exist." you heaved a sigh and took another sip from your cup.

Schlatt chuckled. "You're warm, but you still drink tea. I don't understand you brits."

"The fact that I enjoy my tea despite the weather has something to do with its wonderful taste, not my nationality!" you retorted indignantly.

"Keep telling yourself that. I bet you'd feel much better if you drank a cold glass of water."

You pulled your eyebrows together sulkily and drank the cup empty out of spite, loudly setting it down on your desk. "Stop mansplaining."

Normally Schlatt was not one to refrain from the last word in such situations, but he just laughed to himself and you nodded in satisfaction.

There was a pause, interrupted by the vibrating of your cell phone, which you had carelessly put away when he called. When you unlocked it, the finished photos from before popped up, which you had almost forgotten about, as well as a message from Will in your group, where he sent in the rest of the photos from his phone.

Since Schlatt also seemed to be focused on something else, you quickly sent a "thanks!!!" to the group and switched to Instagram, where you picked out some of the photos.

While you were tagging everyone, you looked up briefly and smiled at Schlatt. "How was your day, by the way? Anything happened? How's the apartment hunting going?"

He exhaled deeply and heavily. "I'm still looking. I think it's nice of my friends to let me stay with them, but it's getting to be a bit much."

You nodded understandingly and typed in a caption for the photos.

´life is funny with these guys´

"Are they really no free apartments?" you asked, uploading the photos, a 'ping' coming from Schlatt's phone.

You almost said something, teased him that he had you on notifications.

His demotivated response stopped you. "Most don't allow pets, which is absolute bullshit. All I know is that if I move, I move with Jambo. With him or not at all." As if summoned, the cat jumped in front of the camera from the side, blocking it with his tabby fur before Schlatt grabbed him and pulled him onto his lap.

You tilted your head and watched him cuddle the cat behind the ears, staring at his hands and how gently he handled the cat.

What else had Niki said today?

It's a more than green flag when a man is affectionate to his pets?

"And you? How was your day?" asked Schlatt without looking up from Jambo, and your heart dropped into your stomach. Hadn't he seen the photos you'd sent him from the beach a few hours ago?

You had to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat before you could speak again, but even then your voice sounded scratchy, "We were out for Jack's vlog, Tommy, Niki, Tubbo and Ranboo, and Will. He lined us all up on one of the docks by the water and asked us trivia questions. Everyone had three lives and whoever lost all of them by answering questions wrong was pushed into the water. I was the last dry one until the incident with Will I tweeted about earlier," you recounted.

"Yeah, I saw it. Seems like you're having a pretty good time with Will."

The icy words echoed through your silent room and your smile disappeared, his words feeling like a solid slap in the face.

What had been fun for you during the day now left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Schlatt didn't even seem to notice the fall of your mood, still cuddling Jambo and for a moment neither of you said anything.

Your thoughts were all the louder for it. What was that comment about your friendship with Will, why had he spoken his name so disdainfully? Had something happened between the two of them?

"I guess." you interrupted the silence uncertainly, "I mean, the whole group is doing something together, not just him and me." You didn't know why you felt the need to defend yourself, but you didn't like the conversation at all.

Finally, movement came to Schlatt as Jumbo jumped away and he reached for his cell phone. You could see his face light up at the opening of another app and then he rolled his eyes. "Come on, (y/n). I thought we were good friends, you can tell me if you have a crush on him." he said and stunned, your foot slid off the chair.

"I beg your pardon? Where do you come up with such nonsense?" you snapped at him.

The picture wobbled as Schlatt set his phone back down on the table, after which he propped both arms on his knees and looked at you seriously. "I'm not blind, hell, the internet is not blind! But I'm happy for you, of course, the perfect boy and the perfect girl had to get together sooner or later."

You couldn't and wouldn't believe what you heard. Several times you tried to answer him, but the words failed you.

Your silence was misinterpreted by Schlatt, he lowered his gaze and for a second you could see sorrow in his eyes, then he put back on his mask that he usually showed to his fans and turned his head away. "Forget what I said. I have to go to bed," he mumbled under his breath, but still loud enough for his mic to pick it up.

That pulled you back. With a mixture of exasperation and anger, you pulled yourself closer to your desk, the candle flickering at the jerky movement. "How am I supposed to forget what you said? You can't just accuse me of something like that and then leave? Can you please tell me what you mean?" plaintively, you looked at the camera rather than the field on the screen.

You hoped he could see your desperation and the truth behind your words. He had to...

Schlatt clicked his tongue loudly, not even looking at you. "What I mean? Your stupid flirting, no matter where you are or who you're with. I couldn't care less about you guys cluttering up my timeline with your tweets, and posting cute photos on Insta, and enjoying your time together without being separated from the other by six hours and a continent. You guys go for it! But it makes me sick, (y/n). He used to be my best friend and now I've apparently lost my other best friend to him." It was long pent up anger that made him speak, you could see how he had to get over himself to reveal his feelings.

You were shocked when you understood what was behind that anger, behind that mask.

"Schlatt you stupid idiot, I like you! Do you really think I would stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning to talk to Will?", just like him you had become louder in your tone, so the silence that followed was uncomfortably quiet.

You'd rather he kept yelling at you than stay silent.

Out of sheer nervousness and fear, after practically throwing your feelings at his feet as clearly as you could, you raised a hand to your lips and bit down on the nail of your thumb.

Without saying anything, Schlatt reached for his phone again, holding it closer as you heard him type. There was a concentration in his gaze, a determination in his stare.

"Schlatt?" you asked softly, clasping your middle with your other hand. "Schlatt what do we do now?"

As much as it pained you, you wanted to let him decide how to proceed with your friendship and what seemed to lie between you.

"I," Schlatt started and stopped, then he put his phone back on the table and all you could see was the white ceiling. You could hear him walking away, something further away rustled and without you being able to stop it you started tapping your leg on the floor.

Uncertainty gnawed at you, taking over your thoughts so that you imagined the worst scenarios and lost yourself in ideas of breaking contact. You didn't even catch that Schlatt was coming back.

"(y/n)?" the softness in his voice made you wince. Though the exhaustion of the day and the argument crashed on you like waves, you lifted your head again.

Schlatt seemed to be pacing back and forth in his room, his cell phone in his hand this time. "I don't want to settle this on my cell phone. I booked a ticket, my flight leaves in five hours, if you want to see me at all."

You crack open your eyes, all at once the tiredness was gone and replaced by your fast beating heart. "Wait what? Of course I want to see you! That means-" "That I like you, yes.", Schlatt complemented your question, smiling gently. A laugh burst out of you, breaking the last bit of tension and knocking down the wall between you.

Nothing could keep you in the chair anymore and you jumped up. "Oh my god." you whispered to yourself. Taken over by energy, you slapped your hands in front of your face and dropped to a crouch. From the speakers you heard Schlatt's soft laughter. "Fuck, this is the cheesiest thing I've ever done. Never thought I'd just buy a plane ticket like that," he laughed and you joined in.

"I can't believe you feel exactly the same way," you admitted, still sitting on the floor and running shaky hands through your hair, "And, that you're coming to England."

Schlatt grinned at the camera, wry and slightly childish. "You want to tell me a little more about Jack's vlog as I pack? And do you have any more beach photos from today? I'd love to take a closer look at those."

#mcyt fanfiction #mcyt writing #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #jschlatt x you

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jockpoetry · 3 years

Text

Dean’s Canon Divergent 42nd Birthday.

(on ao3)

The bunker was still, Sam and Eileen were...somewhere, and currently they didn’t have any visitors. No guests, no wayward hunters, or any friends stopping by to catch their breath. Not even family. It was, for once, just Dean, his broken leg, and a case of beer that was mostly empties now.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” the words weren’t slurred, even though he felt the weight and warmth of alcohol resting heavy on his tongue. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d acknowledged his own birthday, but in the solitude of the bunker it felt right to at least say the words aloud.

The hovered above him as he contemplated beer four - five, maybe - and wondered if it was time to hit the harder stuff. An uncomfortable lump had begun to form somewhere above his heart. He pushed out of the chair, half-drunk off the now warm beers Dean heaved himself upward and swayed on his feet for a beat. The main room of the bunk swum before his eyes before he shut them, steadying himself.

He felt stale, sore, and exhausted. Which meant that it was definitely time to switch to something harder. The path to his room was familiar and before he knew it tired hands pulled drawers open until the glass of an unfinished bottle of bourbon he’d opened the other night was welcome against his palm.

Not bothering to find a glass he took the bottle to his bed, the cap flicked off to the side with a quiet clatter. The cool of the liquor was crystalline after a haze of lukewarm beers. One hand holding the bottle steady he adjusted his pillow behind him and settled down, eyes staring unseeingly straight ahead.

This was kind of pathetic, even for him, wasn’t it? Getting drunk, alone, on your birthday. Another small pull of the bourbon quieted those thoughts, even if it didn’t fully dull the ache of too many questions he never let himself ponder. The bunker was too quiet, though, and Dean wasn’t sure even if he put music on and cranked it as loud as it could go it would drum out the thunder in his head.

How old was he?

Did he count the years in hell, or not? Does he count the one in purgatory? How about the hundred days he lived and died - were those a part of this life? He ran his free, rough hewn, hand - was this even his original hand - over his face. His breath in soft tatters. Birthdays in the past had been busy, world’s were ending, people were dying, but now here he was. Still. Everything was...okay. It was, there was no crisis at hand. Just busywork, clean up jobs, every day tasks that called people away.

Hell he wasn’t even sure if Sam and Eileen were even on a hunt, maybe they’d just taken a weekend away to breathe. It had to be nice, having someone to breathe with. Having a life with someone.

All Dean had was a life unworthy of any fanfare. Unworthy of a text from Jack or Sam or....

The lump was back this time decidedly higher, threatened to cut off his air and made the backs of his eyes burn.

More bourbon, definitely...definitely more bourbon.

But even the bright burn of warming liquor didn’t stop the way the room was beginning to melt. Or the warm trails that had begun to fall down his face. Was it even his face? He’d only been born to be a fucking meatsuit for an angel. Fucking angels, fucking destiny and fate and -

The sob that ripped out of him breaks the silence, and for a long time there is only unsteady, heaving, gasping breaths. They fill up the room, and go on for long enough that the bourbon is on his bedside table and both hands are holding his face. It is his, no matter who’s inhabited it, how many times it has died, this is his. He is his.

He only belongs to himself.

He’s always belonged to himself, an island of one. Everyone always leaves, Sam included. Hell Sam’s got a life of his own, and is happy. He’s got the hunter network running as nicely as Baby’s engine. And Dean?

Dean’s got a splotchy face long after his tears slow to a stop. He’s in the midst of taking a shuddering, wet breath, when off in the distance there’s the sound of a door shutting.

Every muscle in his body tenses, his hand half reached under his pillow for the gun stashed there, before he can rationalize to his foggy brain it’s just some hunter, probably. He listens, ears straining, as distantly familiar footsteps draw nearer. The tears have dried on his face, the skin stiff and uncomfortable, but he barely dares to breathe let alone move.

A shadow pauses before his door, as it stealing itself, before the sound of a doorknob and

“Oh,” Cas’ face slowly comes into focus.

Cas’ face...Dean stands too quickly and mostly falls off of his bed. He catches himself with one arm, staring wide-eyed as Cas comes closer. As Cas’ warm, familiar, hands rest on his shoulder. As Cas’ impossibly blue eyes look over his face with concern. “Dean,” and that’s definitely Cas’ voice. Deep and rough like tires over gravel and Dean can feel the threat of tears returning as he shakes his head.

Because it can’t be Cas.

“You’re dead,” the words take far too much effort to form. The not-Cas-Cas’ face crumples, softens, looks at him in that makes the tears come out harder. “Christ I need to stop drinking,” he pulls shaking hands to press into his eyes, willing whatever drunken vision away. But the warm weight of a second hand comes to cup his face, and the sound of fabric crinkling and knees resting on concrete are enough to tell him the not-Cas-Cas isn’t going away anywhere soon.

The soft motion of a thumb across his cheek is enough to ease some of the tension away, and maybe he can just pretend. No one else is around, he can be allowed this? A drunken dream, too good to be true, and lets his head rest heavier on the palm there. His hands falling from his eyes to rest between his legs.

“You could’ve had me,” the words are so quiet, “I wish you would’ve.” How many times has he admitted these words in his dreams? In prayers that went unanswered? “Too fucking chicken shit to ever do anything, too afraid I’d fuck it up,” the words spill out of him faster and faster. “One good thing, the one good thing this life gave to me was you, but I know me, I fuck everything up. I don’t know how to keep people, only how to push ‘em away and I couldn’t....”

Couldn’t lose Cas like that, in a permanent way, but he did anyways. In the end silence wasn’t salvation, it was just as damning as any words could’ve been.

“Dean,” and that’s enough to draw his eyes back open. And there’s Cas, as he should be, weary, wary, with that softest trace of hope. “I-I knew,” but the words halt and he can see the way the muscles in this vision of Cas clench. The way blue eyes shift around for a moment, searching for the right words to say. In his dream Cas would surge forward and cover him in kisses. Sloppy and sappy and feeling like everything he’d wanted.

This Cas seems uncertain, “I could feel the way you felt, but you’re so-so complex. I didn’t wish to assume, didn’t want to...hope.” Each words feels like it’s been pulled, painfully, from some deep place. “Dean, please,” and the hand on his cheek tilting his face upwards. “Look at me,” blue eyes pleading as much as the words.

Taking in a steadying breath Dean does, and all he sees is Cas. The open longing and desperation on his face. “Jack,” the words drift over Dean like warm waves, “brought me back from the empty. I wasn’t right, but your prayers...they helped. Jack, Mary, Charlie even they helped me. I would have come back sooner, but -”

Whatever further words Cas might’ve said were muffled as Dean surged forward, arms wrapping around the familiar expanse of the angels back. Hands soothed down his back, a face pressing into his hair, and surely there are words being spoken but Dean can’t hear them. All he can hear is the thud of two pulses, their bodies melded together as close as they can be. A warmth, completely unrelated to the alcohol, surges through his body.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Cas’ voice finally breaks through, “I used my grace to sober you. I wanted you to see this wasn’t,” but again words are interrupted. This time by a suddenly, blisteringly, sober Dean leaning and pressing his lips against Cas’ stupid, eternally, chapped ones.

The sag of relief brings Cas somehow closer to him, and they sit there, Cas knelt between Dean’s knees, kissing until they’re out of breath. Until Cas leans back to press his forehead against Dean’s, both of their breathing uneven and eyes shut. Dean lets his hands slowly drag down from shoulder blade to hips and shifts to rest his head upon one of Cas’ shoulders.

The hand that begins to comb through his hair, soothing away any doubt, any fear. “They kept telling me I could go back when I was ready,” the words break the silence, but Dean doesn’t move and neither does Cas. The only motion is the hand through his hair, “and I never knew.... I didn’t know how to tell when I was ready, but then I remembered.” The hand in his hair pulls slightly, just enough to shift Dean back so Cas can look him full in his face again.

“January 24th, 1979,” the smile on Cas’ face is sun-bright and warms Dean right to his core. “I was given a gift I didn’t fully understand that day, and I figured it would only be fair if...if I returned the gesture.” Cas’ lips are warm against his forehead, lingering for a beat too long before pulling away again. “Happy birthday, Dean, I hope this is the first of many you’ll let me celebrate with you.”

Dean answers the only way he can, by pressing another kiss against Cas’ lips, and pulling him closer.

#spnfic #destielfic #destiel fic #supernaturalfic #destiel #spn #my writing #i decided to finish this ficlet from last month too.#posting this does mean though that i officially need to get over myself and post ch2 to guiding light. next...next weekend let's aim for tha #*that.#long post

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sunpopp · 3 years

Text

Warm to The Touch | {CCH}

→ Summary; it's not often that Chanhee gets sick, but when he does, he's a very big crybaby about it. That, or he really is in as much pain as he says he is—regardless that leaves you to take care of him, and funnily enough, it has its perks.

• WC/genre: 2K of smut + fluff

• Includes/cw: Chanhee being sick and reader taking care of him, no kissies on lips 😔, sub!Chanhee, gn!reader, fingering (m receiving), dick neglection (?), handjobs, brief praise, aftercare

Riding the bus wasn't your favorite thing to do, but it was soothing if you were in the right mood.

Sadly, you weren't. Mostly due to the fact that Chanhee was quite literally blowing up your phone with texts asking how much longer it'd take you to be off the train and on your way with his precious medicine, making you sigh and roll your eyes before shooting him a reply that you'd be there soon, but knowing nothing would calm him down until you were in front of him to prove it.

You can't help but smile.

Chanhee didn't complain much about anything, besides maybe you not helping him with washing the dishes or set the table while he made dinner, but everything else was, at most, a dirty look that softened relatively quickly. Sickness, though, was a whole other ballgame.

He would rant and rave about the tiniest of phantom pains, practically on the male equivalent of his period with the way his mood would get snappy and sour at the slightest inconveniences.

But maybe he really did just have a shit pain tolerance like he'd often hint at. Though it didn't stop you from still being baffled when he'd get a bad cramp in the middle of the night and whine about it until he'd fall asleep again.

Coming back to reality as you glance up to the bus's nearing destination, you stretch lazily and begin to stand, muscles aching from walking all day and back cracking loud enough for you to wonder if other people heard it. The bus slows to a stop before finally lurching against the sidewalk, and you take your leave through the opening doors with an appreciative thanks to the driver.

Almost immediately after you hop down from the steps, a layering of chilly wind washes harshly against your front and the familiar smell of petrichor into your nose, relentless rain droplets against your coat as you begin in a jog in the direction of your apartment. Chanhee must be freezing right now, you think, concern growing even heavier at the visible breaths of air you let out. If he's already got the sniffles, a sore throat, and headaches, he's probably getting worse considering you'd forgotten to turn the heater on before you left.

Stupid mistake.

It takes maybe a couple more minutes, less than it'd take if you were walking like normal, before you're finally at your door, punching in the code for the lock before shouldering it open and kicking off your shoes on the shoe rack. It's cold inside, you can tell by the way your cheeks still feel numb.

"Chanhee! I got your medicine!" Your words echo throughout the hall, spreading out when you keep calling his name as you move farther in; past the open kitchen and to the bedroom door opposite the bathroom.

When you come into the room, Chanhee is still in the bed where he was when you left, but this time, he's sat up, looking at you with hooded eyes and a thin sheen of sweat covering his face. He frowns, "It's about time. While I was here suffering, you were out with your friends. Unbelievable..," he pouts and shakes his head.

With a chuckle and now eased posture, you sit in front of him and set the bag of medicine beside you to check his temperature. He's extremely hot.

"Yeah, well, staying around you while you're sick is enough to drive me crazy so you can't really pin the blame on me for needing to leave. Plus, it's not like you tried to stop me, did you?" You smile at him, standing back up to go run him a lukewarm bath.

"I was asleep!"

"Your problem, not mine!"

___

"Alright, up you go."

"Ah, but my whole body hurts..."

"Too bad, you're sweating a bunch and you haven't done anything to clean yourself yet."

Another tug of Chanhee's hands, and he's stumbling into your arms with a raspy groan at the jerky movement. You pat his back, pecking his damp forehead, then drag him to the bathroom.

"Can you undress yourself or do you need my help with everything?" You half-joke.

"Don't be rude, it's actually hard for me to do a lot of things," Chanhee utters bitterly, but he does manage to pull his shirt over his head, albeit with your help, as well as his pants and boxers before stepping into the water.

"Or maybe you're just fragile as hell and the smallest things have you bedridden for a week."

"Oh my god I'm gonna-"

"Hush, princess, you won't do anything," you find yourself laughing as you lower yourself to your knees beside the tub, folding your arms on the side before resting your cheek atop them, "Just relax, okay? I know you're too tired to argue right now, so let yourself calm down for a couple."

He thankfully doesn't protest, and takes your advice for once; letting himself fall against the back of the bathtub and close his eyes, the sigh through his nose an indication that he's allowing himself to enjoy the water. He looks so peaceful like this. Doll-like eyelashes fluttering against smooth, heated cheeks, and head slowly lolling to face you.

You feel yourself reach out. You know it's happening, but you don't stop it when you run a hand through Chanhee's bangs, then swipe a thumb past his eyelid to trail to his nose, then lips.

He opens his eyes, but doesn't say anything, even if he probably finds it strange. He lets you touch him.

"You're very pretty," you mumble whilst pouring water onto his head using the wash bucket on the back surface of the bathtub. Drops trickle down into mini patterns on his face, and he drags a hand over it to clear them away.

"Even while sick?" He raises his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised at your answer.

You comb the water into his hair to wet it as you nod, "Even while sick."

Chanhee smiles, "So, how was your day out?"

"It was nice. Found a perfect place where I'd love to take you, actually."

"Oh? Where?"

"The bone zone-"

"Oh my god, you're so annoying!"

You erupt into a fit of laughter as Chanhee swats a hand at you, getting some of your shirt and arm wet where you shield yourself from his little attack. You pinch his cheek, flashing a toothy grin, "Oh, come on! That was a good one and you know it. Smooth as ever if I do say so myself."

"Yeah, and you're the only one saying so," He pouts, pulling away from your pinchy fingers and trying his best to hide the steadily growing smirk that threatens to break his face into a smile. Stubborn as always, you see.

"You can leave now," Chanhee gives you a pointed look.

"Alright, alright. I'll be in the bedroom awaiting any further commands, your highness," You shake your head, and make a grand display of leaving the room and him to his own privacy.

Chanhee doesn't take long in the bath anyway, so you knew you wouldn't have to wait long as you fall back against the bed, shifting around until you've made yourself comfortable against the strewn navy covers. You spare a glance out the window pressed against your side; still raining, and still bathed in a silver glow from the blanketing clouds. It'd make you kind of sad, if not melancholic, but you were in a good mood from coming home, so at the most, you were calm.

Calm, even when Chanhee emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam a half hour later, only wearing a pink striped button up pajama shirt and matching bottoms, hands raised above his head whilst he dries his hair with a small towel. He comes to a stop in front of you.

"There he is," you exclaim, looking up from your phone and patting the spot next to you with a mischievous glint in your eye, "C'mere."

"I wonder why I'm hesitating," he says, and you can practically feel the the sarcasm in his words.

"Because hot people make you nervous? Duh."

"Are you insinuating that you're hot?"

That's your queue.

Leaning forward, you grab Chanhee's wrist and tug him into your chest, causing him to stumble slightly, but you catch him and pull him flush against you. A flurry of kisses to his face, excluding his lips, ensue.

Chanhee squirms around in your arms and acts like he doesn't like the affection at first, but a few more seconds of the same treatment prove true to his soft side when he goes limp and begins to giggle at the ticklish feel of your butterfly pecks.

Oh, that giggle. How you loved to hear it; sweet and beautiful like the chime of the prettiest bell in your ears.

You pull him on top of you as you relax against the crevice where the mattress meets the wall, and rest your cheek on the top of his head, humming, "You saying that I'm not hot?"

"Yes."

"Damn."

"Kidding."

"No you weren't."

"Yes I was."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"You- Hush!" Chanhee covers your mouth finally and you chuckle against his palm at his feeble attempt to silence you.

You press a kiss to it instead of bickering further, causing him to soften. Just then, you realize something as you touch down his wrist.

"Woah, has your fever not died down at all? You're even starting to sweat a little bit again, too..."

Your suspicions prove true when a closer inspection at the ruddy skin flushed from his cheeks down to his chest and heavier-than-normal breathing indicates that he's still hot, or at least overheated.

"Here," you murmur, already shifting him on his back so you can easily unclasp the buttons of his shirt, "Are you in any pain or is it still just the sore throat?"

"The headache I had earlier is starting to come back. It's getting worse, but that's about it so don't worry, I'll be fine," Chanhee tries his hand at reassurance, you can tell, but it doesn't do anything to stop you from crawling over him to scurry into the kitchen.

"I'm getting you some water, hang on!" You call out from down the hall, making quick work of filling up a decently sized glass before you return to him with some painkillers as well. He barely manages to sit up when you reach him; his face scrunching at the obvious pain that's beginning to hit him tenfold as he gratefully takes the pills and throws his head back when he tosses them in his mouth, chasing them with the cold glass of water you provided.

"Ah, it's actually really starting to hurt...," Chanhee whimpers and at the sound, you slide back into the bed to pepper his face with pecks once again. He's grateful for the comfort, if the way he gently drapes his arm over your shoulder says anything.

"Oh, my poor baby," you coo lowly, feeling the goosebumps on his back that prickle at your tone, "Is there anything I can do to make it better? Did you already take your medicine?"

"Yeah.. still hurts.."

"I can tell," you snort and trail a finger down Chanhee's sternum, looping it back up to flick at one of his nipples. He jolts, and you can't help but give a cheeky smirk, "Even your nipples have taken on somewhat of a hue. I wonder what other places are doing the same thing...," your words would hold suggestion to even the most clueless of people, spoken through lips now slicked with saliva as you roll your tongue across the tinted flesh and lower your head for a taste of his exposed breast.

"Ah!" Chanhee gasps loudly and his fingers find purchase on the back of your head, his body trembling when he arches his chest up into your face, searching for more when his mouth fails to ask you such a favor.

Teasing his nipple with a gentle nip before pulling away to kiss it instead, you caress his narrow waist, "You said it hurts, no?"

"It does...," Chanhee pants and nods as fast as his throbbing head will allow him.

"Where does it hurt most, baby? Tell me," You wet your fingers with a quick swipe of your tongue then reach under his lower half to slide your hand into his shorts, Chanhee helping you by taking one leg out, and glide down the seam of his ass to tease his rim, "Here?"

"Y-yes..!" you chuckle when he huffs and flings both arms around your head, pulling you close into him and meeting your forehead as he grinds down against your digits.

"Awe, look at you..."

And look at him indeed; Chanhee is already a mess before you. Staring at you with those big watery doe eyes of his, and silently pleading for you to continue doing things to his body that has him feeling like bursting.

You give him exactly what he wants.

Pushing your finger into him, slowly due to how tight the fit is, you press sloppy kisses to the underside of his jaw. The reaction Chanhee gives is a familiar one, with sensual lips dropped open to let out a high-pitched moan and legs trembling as he holds them open for you, fighting to not shut his eyes upon feeling you enter him.

"Good," you drawl, tilting your wrist at an angle once your index and pinkie meet the backs of Chanhee's thighs and gently curling your fingers upwards, "Just like that, baby. Is this okay? Are you okay?" Your eyes search his face for discomfort, and though you don't find any, you still your movements.

He nods and nuzzles against the top of your head with his cheek, "Mm-hm. Keep going, please."

You start back up at his polite request, as much as you love hearing him ask for more of something, and begin to drag the pads of your fingers back and fourth alongside his walls until you feel the telltale firmness of his prostate, then start on massaging it.

"Ah!" He emits a short, melodical whine at the burst of sensation now seething within him. It drives him one step from crazy as he scrunches his face and unconsciously slaps at your shoulder in a sort of mid-euphoria result.

You huff out a half-laugh, sitting back on your knees so you can get a better view of what you're doing, "Good?"

Chanhee tries to use his words, but by the way you pin him down to the bed with a palm flat against his collarbone before speeding up your hand, he can only manage a broken sob. It's followed by another of the same needy type, but this time, it's louder and causes your stomach to all but flip at the sound. Chanhee throws his head back, thrashing this way and that to somewhat get away from the overwhelming feeling, but also pushing down against it at the same time; all the while your hand keeps him in place.

"I'll take that as a yes," you jest, mostly to yourself because Chanhee sure isn't listening, then bend down slightly to finally turn your focus to his weeping cock. It's full-blooded from being hard for so long, angry red at the tip and jumping every once in a while, especially when you open your mouth to lick a strip from the base to the head.

"P-please I can't! You're gonna make me cum!" Chanhee rushes to sit up, but you push him back down as soon as he tries. He looks absolutely horrified at being so close already.

"And what's the problem with that?"

"I-I just- I don't want to disappoint you."

"Oh, baby," You take your hand from his chest in favor of jerking him off, which he all but chokes at, "It doesn't disappoint me at all. I find it very hot, actually."

"Plea-ease..! Oh!" Chanhee wails one final time before he lets go all over your hand.

It covers your knuckles, dripping white down the side of your thumb as you keep stroking him to help him ride it out. The orgasm must've hit him hard, you think when you look up to see Chanhee shuddering in time with the aftershocks that zap his body every few seconds, eyes closed and skin dewy with a sheen of perspiration.

"Hey, come back to me. You alright? Does your head still hurt?"

He takes a moment to open his eyes, but when they roll open and find your face, he does something that catches you off-guard. He latches himself onto your front, straddling your lap, and rests his head over your shoulder with a sigh.

"Chanhee, hang on a bit, my hand's still dirty and I need to clean you up-"

"In a second. I'm tired."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Mm, I don't feel like talking right now."

"... You are such a handful."

@vanillaknj @stealerhwa1

#sub tbz #sub tbz smut #sub the boyz smut #sub! the boyz #sub! the boyz smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #gn!reader #idol smut #kpop smut #smut #chanhee smut #sub!chanhee #chanhee the boyz #the boyz chanhee

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

Note

CADYYYYYY I FLY HERE after seeing your milestone event!!! Congratulations on your achievement, you deserve the world!!! ❤️

So to hop on to this event and celebrate with you, may I request for a special one:

Iwaizumi + 70,000 miles away?? 👀

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pairing | iwaizumi hajime x reader

w.c | 1.3k

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mornings for the general married couple consists of whispered 'mornin's, hushed breaths, and knowing that there'll be a warmth on the other side of the bed for the days to come. in the words of your mother, who was one of the few lucky ones to find happiness in an arranged marriage— 'there is nothing more beautiful than waking up beside a soul who'll give up the world for you'.

years of living with your parents has given you an insight on the marriage you want to live with til' your hair becomes snowy white. as a kid, you would wake up on the weekends to the delighted giggles of your mother as your father envelops her in his embrace, commenting on the sweet aroma of the two-in-one coffee she's brewing.

"you make the best coffee," your father would say affectionately, pressing a kiss on your mother's cheek as your 'ew' echoes around the kitchen.

"it's instant coffee, dear," your mother rolls her eyes good-naturedly, playfully shoving him off. "anyone can make it."

"it's different!" protests your father indignantly, as if he's prepared to defend his opinion with his life. "your coffee is unique. it's brewed with your love."

at this, your mother turns away to look at you, shaking her head. "your father is an idiot." there is no bite in her words, however, because she looks completely enamoured by the man who is dramatically sipping his instant coffee, swirling it in the Darlie mug that came with buying two tubes of toothpaste.

your mornings aren't quite like that, however. your mother wakes to her husband peppering kisses on the back of her neck; you wake to a void beside you and a ding! of your phone.

[hajime] 6.47am

good morning, darling.

did you sleep well?

the slumber in your eyes makes you want to feel annoyed— but the words on the screen coax it out of you, leaving you with a buzzing warmth in your chest. there is no husband enveloping you with his body heat, but there is a husband across the phone screen, making his best out of the situation. it's honestly amazing— even 70,000 miles away, hajime can induce a lukewarm flush in your heart.

his seven words might not seem like much, but you know better. he texts you at exactly 6.47 in the morning— two minutes after your alarm goes off, which gives you sufficient time to roll around after you wake.

there’s no way you can resist the smile dancing across your lips when your phone rings. ‘you have an incoming call’, your phone says in hajime’s voice, and you let the call go unanswered for a moment longer just to hear your husband try his best not to burst into laughter as he repeats the phrase. eventually, you slide your finger towards the green ‘receive’, pressing the speaker to your ear as you flop back onto the mattress.

“good morning, sleepyhead.” his voice soothes you like a warm cup of mushroom soup, distributing a comfort you didn’t know you missed throughout your vessels and organs. “did you sleep well?”

“yeah.” you mumble, feeling like a naive teenager living their first love when your heart performs five cartwheels in a row. for a moment, you consider signing your cardiac muscle up for the circus. “i missed you.”

his laugh crackles through your speaker. “me too, darlin’. just a couple more weeks. hang on until then, alright?”

“have you eaten yet?” you ask, doing a quick mental calculation to figure out what time it is where he’s at. just about time for dinner.

“yeah. instant noodles and microwavable dumplings from the convenience store. i’m best friends with the owner now,” he jokes, “i’m there every other night. i’ve tried out just about every food they have in there.”

a frown crosses your lips. “when you get back, i’ll make all your favourites.” you declare, upset that your husband has to resort to eating cheap konbini foods. he’s doing his best from day-to-night, working his ass off to train that overseas volleyball team, giving his all to beat them into shape before the season starts. by the time he finishes work, he’s too tired to cook anything than microwavable dumplings. you’re starting to semi-wish that you went with him so he at least has decent food to eat. “i’ll make tofu and that udon you love.”

“i’m looking forward to it.” hajime replies fondly before a robotic ding! goes off. “oh. my dumplings are done.” the line carries over footsteps, muffled by a pair of slippers, the hollow noise of colliding plates and the beeping of an annoying microwave that you feel like strangling.

when you close your eyes, you can imagine your husband, phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder as he shuffles across his room, popping the microwave open and waving the steam away. he plates his dumplings with ease, picking the plate up with one hand as he holds his phone with the other.

“alright, i’m back.” hajime lets you know, setting down his utensils on the plate. the sharp noises make you wince, but you don’t complain. “you should probably start getting ready for work.”

“hmm.” you hum in reply, feeling reluctant.

“i’ll call you again before you go to bed,” chuckles hajime, shoving a dumpling into his mouth. “and then i’ll call you tomorrow morning, and tomorrow night, and... what’s the word for the day after tomorrow?” the call blurbs out clicks and clacks as hajime picks up his phone, leaving the call screen to search up the word.

“i get it, i get it. it’s fine.” you hastily stop him before he actually googles it. “i just... miss you a lot lately. that’s all.”

he goes silent for a bit, and the insecurities seeded deep down inside you start to grow their roots. what if hajime starts finding you clingy and annoying?

“i miss you too. more than i want to admit,” hajime confesses softly, sounding slightly vulnerable. “sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night and i want to talk to you, but then i turn around and—” he cuts himself off, sighing. “i want to call you, but you’re at work and i don’t want to disturb you.”

you know him well enough to know that he’s pursing his lips, and the image of your husband pouting to himself makes a giggle erupt.

“hey, i’m trying to have a sentimental moment here.”

“oh, i know, i know. i’m sorry. it’s just— i suddenly imagined you pouting and i couldn’t help it. you’re adorable.” you explain, holding back the stragglers of laughter. “and hajime— you can text me when i’m at work. or you could call.”

“yeah.” hajime sighs. “i hate not being able to talk to you face to face, though.”

“me too, love.” you reply, smiling softly to yourself. “but you said it just now, right? a couple more weeks and we’ll see each other again. just hang on till then.”

“hmm.”

“i should go get ready for work now.”

“yeah, you should.” hajime’s words and thoughts can be quite conflicting sometimes, because even though his words are agreeing with you, his tone states that he doesn’t want you to go.

“the word for the day after tomorrow is overmorrow, by the way.”

“oh! right.”

“enjoy your dumplings and noodles.”

“i will.”

“and sleep early.”

“yes yes.”

“and remember that you can text me even if i’m at work.”

“mm.”

“remember that i love you.”

“i love you too.”

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if i’m being honest this prompt was kind of personal cause... well there’s this guy who i (kind of) dated back in high school but he moved like. half the globe away and uh... yeah. i still text him from time to time cuz we’re still friends :P

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @knmiakira @rirk-ke @cemeiia @animegirlweeb @mitzwinchester @haikyuushuffle

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Milestone Event: Requests Open!

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime fluff #iwaizumi hajime x y/n #iwaizumi hajime x you #[ris writes]—✧

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Dammit, Rafa!

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 4.6 K

Warnings: Minors DNI, Very light BDSM, a lil bit of Dom! Rafa and a lot of Sub! Rafa, Rocky Horror Picture Show live Shadow Cast, Oral sex (m, f receiving), slight breeding kink if you blink. drug use (just say no), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it).

A/N: This is a combination of an ask from @theatrenerd86 and a lovely anon as seen below. I JUST really read your ask and I think I changed it a little bit. I was so excited for the concept. I hope this is okay. 🥴

Rafael Santiago Casal was stressed out.

You had just the thing.

As soon as you were able to get him out of the bedroom and on the couch after his jetlag, you presented him with the opportunity to make good on the bet he lost at the last friends-who-are family get together.

He’d talked enough shit that night about how many shots he could do and how many you could tolerate. You decided to shut him up with a friendly wager.

Just before he passed out at the kitchen bar, he’d grunted, “Holy shit, she’s gonna fuck me good.”

Rafa was not necessarily talking about sex, he was talking about how you would make him pay up.

And he was right. He’d have to pay.

Now, three months later, the time had come.

Rafael had worked hard shooting a film out of town for 6 weeks, serving as both actor and director, and he was still coming down from the stress and responsibility.

It had been three days since he’d been home and he was still wound up, even after sleeping almost 18 hours straight and you letting him use you at his will for sex.

The sacrifices you made for your man.

Rafa’s current situation: you holding up gold lamé boxers in front of his face.

“FUCK No!” He wasn’t having it.

“Unless you are paying me my SAG rate or above, I’m not wearing that shit.”

He crossed his arms, stubborn as hell. And making you wet as you stared at the veins popping out. They did something to you, but you were determined.

“You lost the bet, Cash. You gotta keep up your end.”

Rafael had The Rocky Horror Picture Show memorized, as many times you’d made him watch it on video, but surprisingly he’d never been to a Shadow Cast.

“You know, growing up in Berkeley, I thought you’d have been to a show before.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“I wasn’t THAT kind of Berkeley kid. I was too busy being slinging dope. I didn’t have time to play dress up and see a movie.”

“Hmmmm. Such the attitude.”

Rafa rolled his eyes again. You nodded and took note. Then continued on your mission.

You turned around and picked up a tweed blazer.

“Okay. If you don’t want to go as Rocky, you can go as Brad and wear a t-shirt, this jacket, and your glasses.”

Rafa considered it for a minute,

“That’s what I’m talking about! That’s shit I wear on the regular. You trying to have me ass out here in these streets….”

He grumbled as he took the jacket and you made a face. Your plan was working perfectly. Rafa as Brad would be hot as fuck. But this attitude....

Rafa leaned back, his arms spread out on the back of the couch. Those damn grey sweatpants. He was doing all of this on purpose.

“What’re you wearing to the show ?” His eyebrow was cocked at you.

You could clearly see his dick print, and the way he pushed his crotch up at you made you think he knew that very well.

The fact that all of your holes were well used and slightly sore from his homecoming did not make you any less wet at this moment.

“Well… I have options too.”

You looked at each other and grinned. It was time for a fashion show.

First, you came out in a yellow belted shirtwaist dress and white cardigan completed with some black Mary Jane heels and paraded in front of him on the couch.

“Janet! ”

You called back, “Brad!” as he watched you closely.

It seemed as if your nipples were pointing at him through the cotton material of the dress and he saw the jiggle of his dreams as you turned around.

“You wearing any underwear under that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You looked coyly at him over your shoulder as you went back into the bedroom.

Next was a little french maid outfit. Magenta.

“Hot damn!”

Rafael’s eyes were round and his mouth was open.

“I-I like it. I like it a lot.”

He was palming his new erection through his pants.

Your outfit was skimpy and not at all functional if you were actually going to clean the house.

You approached him and started feather dusting his shoulders, then his head.

He ducked and tried to grab your hand to keep from messing up his hair and you twirled away, then came back and started dusting the boner in his lap.

He just sat there, looked up at you with those sea-blue eyes of his which then swept down your body. You brought the feather duster up to his neck and tickled him there.

Rafa grabbed the duster with his left hand and as you tugged back, he pulled harder, which landed you across his lap.

“Well, what do we have here?”

He rubbed your ass for a second before pulling back and giving you a stinging, and stimulating slap.

You weren’t about to get caught up, so you managed to wriggle away and stand in front of him.

Rafa was confident that he had you wet and dripping for him, which was true, and that he was in control, which was false.

He didn’t try to chase you, just put his hands on the back of the couch and pushed his crotch up at you again.

You had something for him.

You sat down beside him and reached into the pocket of the apron on your maid’s costume and held the items up for his inspection. He rolled his eyes.

“Look what I found when I was getting laundry out of your suitcase.”

Rafa shifted his confident posture on the couch. His eyes were wide, but he did not say a word as he glanced at what was in your hand and then away.

“What did you expect while I was 1200 hundred miles away?”

You put the intimate polaroids of you, and a couple of him inside you, on the coffee table.

“The agreement was that you (and I) would get off to each other, on facetime, or on the phone, or, a couple of times via text. Which we did, almost every night.”

You sat beside him and looked him in the eye.

“You weren’t supposed to do it without me.”

Rafa tried to lean over and kiss you, but you dodged his lips. Rafa sighed.

“But I didn’t do it without you, Love. Those are pictures of you, of us. I can’t get enough of you baby. I only used them a couple of times a week.”

You were getting heated. A plan formulated in your mind.

“12 times, Rafa? I can’t believe you.”

“Forgive me? You drive me crazy. I had to have you and those polaroids helped. A little.”

This time you allowed Rafa to kiss your neck, and you let him wrap his arm around you and draw you into his lap. You could feel his cock brush against you under his sweats.

He was sucking marks into the skin of your neck and cleavage, and when he hooked his fingers into the top of the costume and pulled it down, letting your breasts spill out, you allowed it.

He sucked your nipples into his mouth roughly and those eyes looked up at you as you squirmed on him, trying to get friction on his bulge.

Rafa’s hands were firmly around your waist, long fingers rubbing your mid section, seductively soothing you.

But he wasn’t getting away with it.

You watched him watch you as he sucked, tongued, and bit your nipples, until you decided to not fall for his antics.

You leaned over and kissed him, your tongue establishing dominance in his mouth while you pulled his hair, making his head lean back on the couch.

You leaned over and whispered in his ear before biting his lobe. He shivered.

“I’ve let you have your way since you’ve been back. But it’s time out for all that now. You’ve done it now.”

Rafa’s whimper as you scraped your teeth down his throat was everything.

“You’re not allowed to touch yourself, or fun, until the Shadow Cast. You’ve got to make up for this.”

The show was a week away.

Fuck that, Rafa thought.

Rafael dared to talk back.

“How would you know if I touched myself?”

You just raised your eyebrows and stared at him, watching his neck get red.

“You want to go another week after that without sex?”

You could tell that Rafa was debating which way to go. But you could sense what he wanted.

What he needed.

Most of the time, Rafael was in charge.

He’d taken careful steps to ensure that he would never have to go back to slinging dope on the corner. He liked having control.

Even when it came to business with Diggs, Rafa was always the more aggressive. It’s what got him this far to begin with. Not backing down. Being the director.

But nothing could compare to you, especially when you took control.

Rafa pulled you to him and you allowed it as he wrapped his arms around you.

He sighed into your neck as he kissed it.

“I won’t touch myself. I swear.”

“Good boy. In just seven days, I can make you a man.”

*****************************************************************************************************

For the next week, Rafa took quick, lukewarm showers, stopping himself from touching himself for relief.

At night in bed, he stopped himself from palming his hard on at night when laying next to you. The fact that you still insisted on cuddling with him drove him mad, but not too mad to disobey.

You gave yourself cold showers, because in the mornings, when you’d come together in sleep, you wanted to jump on his rock hardness so bad, but you convinced yourself it would be worth it.

It was a hard week. Then Friday came and anticipation was in the air.

During the entire day, Rafael was impatient, yet restrained. As he got ready for the show that night, he listened to you rattle off the rules of interactive Rocky Horror from inside the closet.

“Okay, Here are the Rules:

1. Whenever Brad comes on screen, you MUST yell, ‘Asshole!’”

Rafa interrupted you. “Wait, I’m dressed up like an asshole?”

“Well, yeah. You’ve seen Rocky before. Brad’s an asshole, Rafa. A cute asshole, but an asshole none the less.” You continued with the rules.

“2. This is before slut shaming was considered a no-no, so, whenever Janet comes on the screen, you gotta yell Slut!”

Rafa shook his head as he put on his glasses, making sure he was nerdy fly while you informed him of the rest of the call-outs.

“And Rule #69:

You MUST do the Time Warp.”

“I don’t dance. When sober.”

You came out of the closet, corset tight, heels high, Afro big, makeup frightening, dressed as Dr. Frank N Furter.

Rafa only stopped and stared. “Goddamn.”

You spun around to give him a look see before you put on your leather jacket.

You showed him a flask full of Jameson’s.

“I think you’ll dance tonight.”

“But what about the horizontal mambo?”

Rafa was all hands as he tried to get you to move your hips. You batted them away.

“Be a good boy. It will go better for you later.”

Rafa nodded and stepped back, his hands in his pockets. He wanted to touch you so badly.

As you moved to leave, you handed him a heavy bag full of all the necessary supplies.

“What the hell is all this shit?”

You looked up, trying to remember:

“Let’s see: Bubbles, because you can’t bring rice, water guns, newspaper, noise makers, rubber gloves…”

Rafa’s eyes got big at that one.

…”Toilet paper, cards…” you rifled through the bag.

“Shit!”

You ran in the kitchen and grabbed some bread, shoving pieces in the toaster. You winked at him as you waited for it to pop up.

“Can’t forget the toast,” you grinned into amused cerulean eyes.

“I have clearly missed out on life during my formative years instead of hanging out with the nerds and Rocky.”

“You have, indeed.”

Rafa almost turned back as you headed to the car and said, “And you’re a virgin tonight, so act accordingly.”

He soon found out what that meant, when crowded in the theater with various wonderful Rocky Horror freaks and geeks, they called virgins up to the stage to be sacrificed.

Since you were whooping and pointing at him Rafa couldn’t hide, so he went up to meet his doom.

You snacked on your popcorn as the emcee “humiliated” Rafa by making him sing “Sweet Transvestite” because he’d played it safe by dressing as Brad.

It turned out not to be so humiliating, because Rafa’s voice is dope and he knew the words; he really got into it.

You could tell that Rafa was having a ball when he came back to his seat.

*************************************************

You and he called out, hid under your newspapers in the rain, slut shamed Janet and most importantly, did the time warp on stage in front of the screen.

It was a real scene.

You drank the rest of your whiskey and Rafa lit a blunt on the way home.

You put your feet out of the window so that Rafa could have a good view of your legs.

He caressed his hand up and down them, the fishnet texture feeling good under his palms.

“What do you think about Frank and Brad.” The weed was making you philosophical.

Rafa side eyed you as he drove.

“What? You mean me and you?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

He chuckled, looking damn sexy driving with one arm.

“I think the whole film is avant-garde. Especially for 1975, it’s about queerness, conformity, and dictatorship. And of course free will.”

Rafa looked over and winked.

You took another toke and nodded.

“I love that Brad was a bottom in that shadow scene with Frank. So fucking hot.”

You traced your fingers across your cleavage. Rafa had to concentrate to keep his eyes on the road.

“Of course, I’m also thinking about how Rocky was bound up when we first see him.

A little BDSM, don’t you think?”

You watched Rafael’s profile as he drove.

“And Frank was the one who did it to him. He seemed to worship the darling doc. Until, you know.”

Rafa squirmed and cleared his throat.

“He sure did.”

You smirked as you French inhaled.

*************************************************

You get back home, tipsy and a little high, but still in command of what you wanted to do.

You went straight to the bedroom as Rafa got two bottles of water to bring with.

As soon as he entered the bedroom, you began.

“Strip,” you commanded.

“I beg your pardon?”

Rafa smirked at you as he put the bottles down on the dresser.

He was trying it.

“I’m in charge now,” you raised your chin. “Got it?”

His eyes changed and he nodded eagerly, smirk turning into a placating smile.

He was probably more eager than he wanted to show, which made you swell with pride.

“So.” You waved your hand at him. “Strip.”

You did the same, stepping out of the heels and rolling down your fishnet stockings.

Rafa took off his jacket, and reached up to take off the glasses.

“Leave those on.”

Smiling again, he left the glasses on as he carefully took off his shirt, then unbuttoned his pants as his hard on was getting bigger.

He stood before you in his boxer briefs as you unsnapped the corset and threw it across the room.

You just raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms, foot starting to tap, and he quickly moved to take his boxers off.

His cock was stiff against his stomach now, making your mouth water.

“Get on the bed, face up.”

Rafael did as he was told, and trembled as you ran your hand up his leg brushing his cock, up his abs, to his chest, face and hair.

He reached for you and you moved away.

“What we’re not gonna do, is any of that unauthorized touching. It’s no way to behave on your first day out. But since you are such an exceptional beauty, I’m prepared to forgive you.”

You went over to your bedside table and brought out the red nylon rope and watched as Rafa shuddered.

“Assume the position.”

He obediently put his hands up toward the headboard, and didn’t move as you swung your leg over his torso and secured him to a couple of the posts.

He kept his eyes down, staring at your crotch the entire time as you used the knots he taught you to make.

“Such a good boy for me. See, there’s no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure.”

“Yes Ma’am. No Ma’am.”

You became wet as Rafa smiled up at you. You rewarded him with a kiss and a small cuddle. Then you got down to business.

You scooted backwards down his body and stared at his erection.

“What should I do to you? Want me to suck your cock? Would you like that?”

"Yes ma’am please.” You loved to hear him beg.

“C-can you do it reverse cowgirl style? So that I can see your ass?”

Rafa looked desperate, but even though the thought of what he’d suggested made your pussy clench. You knew what he was trying to do.

“Are you trying to get me to sit on your face, Rafael?”

He nodded vigorously, hair flopping across his forehead.

“I want to give you pleasure ma’am. Want to breathe you, feel you drip on my lips and drink you. Want you to ride my face until you cum.”

He was using his soft voice, but it was oh so sexy. Fuck, he was using his words to make your clit swell and pulse.

And he knew it too. You saw the glint in his eyes.

“You’re trying to take control back, aren’t you, Rafael?”

He blinked, and his eyes blanked again. He gulped, and this time, he shook his head.

“No ma’am.” He insisted, “Only if you let me.”

You stared at him a while as you took his cock in your hands and started pumping, rubbing the palm of your hand across his fat mushroom tip.

You loved how he was struggling to keep his eyes open and the grunts that were coming from his throat.

“I guess you have been reasonably good so far. But you still have to follow orders.”

You shifted around and straddled his chest, reaching back to finally take his glasses off. All he could do was stare at you.

“I’m all yours, ma’am. Your ass is perfect. Served up for me like this.”

The yearning in his voice was unmistakable.

“Such a good, good boy”

Your thumb flicked over the tip of his dick.

“Promise I’ll always be a good boy.”

You used your hands on him again, your strokes fast and firm enough that he was nearly on the edge but not quite there. You felt powerful.

Slowly, you shuffled back, moving your ass toward his face. And your face towards his cock.

Kitten licks on his tip had him squirming on the bed, his hands now gripping the ropes which tied him fast to the headboard.

“Ma’am, please. Please….please.”

He begged and moaned against your cunt, moving his head and dramatically sweeping his tongue up your slit, making you drip and spasm.

“Rafael! Your mouth....So, so good...” You groaned.

Your praise only caused his cock to become harder. Seeing that, you pushed yourself down more firmly on his face.

Rafa moaned into your pussy causing you to almost tip over.

“So, so good Rafa.”

You raised yourself up, bracing on his thighs, yours tightening around his face. You were determined to finish the job.

“Tell me what you want and maybe I’ll give it to you.” Your voice was deceptively sweet.

He sucked at your clit for a little while longer before he pulled his face away long enough to respond. He watched your pussy quiver as he spoke.

”I want to cum. Please ma’am, I need to cum.”

“Hmmmmm. No.”

Your lips were a hairs’ breadth away from his tip. He groaned, and dove back into your pussy.

“And if you even think of cumming before I say so, you’ll be severely punished.”

You could feel him sucking your clit more intensely, trying to get you to a point where you’d slip up.

But instead, you deep throated him until you reached his base and rested there for a moment. All the practice of taking his entire length was paying off in this moment.

You slowly started to bob on his dick and his attention to your core faltered as his head fell back to the bed.

“Shit…That feels so good. So fuckin’ good… Ma’am.”

Although you loved to hear his voice broken in ecstasy, the hand that was caressing his balls as you sucked him off tugged gently to remind him of his job.

Immediately his lips wrapped around your clit again.

When you felt his balls tighten, you pulled your mouth off of him, moving to kneel next to him on the bed.

“Huh...oh! Ma’am, please!”

“I thought you were mine to do with as I please?”

Your hands danced down your body, briefly cupping your tits and rolling your nipples.

Your lover looked as if he would die from want of touching you.

‘I am. I am. I just…’

“I just want to know, where do you want to cum? Cum in my mouth or in my wet pussy?”

You sat back on your knees and parted your thighs, so he can get another look at you.

“Definitely your pussy.”

You leaned over and smiled at him.

“We’ll see.”

You swung your leg over him and positioned yourself above the head of his stiff cock.

You swiped him up and down the length of your slit, and then slowly sunk down, taking it millimeters at a time.

Rafael groaned, knowing that he wanted to push himself up into you, and you felt him bend his knees to plant his feet to do just that.

“Dont. Move.”

Your voice was firm as you raked your fingernails down his torso, making sure to scrape his nipples as you went.

Rafa opened his eyes to see, and his mouth to gasp, and you rewarded him by sinking all the way down on him.

“Fuck ma’am. You feel so good, so tight, so fuckin’ wet.” You scraped his nipples again.

You smiled at his agony, keeping your eyes on him as he watched your body move.

You went faster, rocking your hips which caused your breasts to jiggle as you slid up and down his pole.

He groaned again, but nodded, eyes squeezing closed to shut out some stimulation.

But that was a no go.

“Open your eyes, Cash. Be good.”

Rafael just simply couldn’t think.

“But you feel so amazing...Ma’am. And you look too… fucking goooooddd. Shit.”

He could barely get it out, which only served to make you wetter. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped it to the bed as you rose up on his length and then drove yourself back down on him.

“Open your eyes!”

He did, his eyes a dark blue now, and trained on you as you repeatedly slammed down on him, fucking him mercilessly.

"So fucking perfect. I wish I could just touch you…” He said breathlessly between grunts.

“It’s not your wish. It’s my command.”

You tried to look menacing and Rafael’s face convinced you that it worked. His eyes widened and he closed his mouth as your hips moved relentlessly.

He knew what you needed as well. His words.

“Thank you Ma’am. For letting me inside your tight, wet… ohhhh… I love you so fucking much.”

He was so sweet when he was needy.

“Love you, love this pussy…”

“Ohhh, Rafa. I love you too. It’s yours anytime you want. If you’re a good boy…”

“I am. I will be. I promise.” He looked into your eyes and you knew it was true.

“Is this dick mine? No one else’s? “

Rafael’s moaned deeply, licking his lips to taste you again.

“All… yours….It’s your’s,” he breathed.

“Good boy Fuck, Rafa!…”

Your Bay Boy was a mess, moaning and bucking his hips up inside you. You let him, knowing how desperate and needy he was. He was so beautiful.

You rocked your hips back and forth, bringing yourself oh so close to the edge.

Rafa’s hips pistoned up into you ferociously hitting the spot that made you moan loudly.

“Fuck, your cock feels so good,” you leaned down to whisper. “You wanna come? You wanna come inside me?”

You felt him shudder, you mustered all the strength you had to stop moving.

He pulled at the restraints, wanting to grab you and hold you fast, but he couldn't.

“So close, Ma’am. More...please. I need to cum.”

You shushed him, putting your finger on his pink lips and smiling down at him.

“I know, baby.”

And you started moving again. With purpose.

“Eyes on me.”

Rafa didn’t know where to focus, your face, your breasts, where you two were connected, the look on your face, the sensations.

There was no coherent thought in his head except what you were doing to him.

You felt him pulse within you and decided it was time as your clit shuddered with your impending orgasm.

“Cum for me Baby, cum inside me. Paint my walls.”

Rafa’s head snapped up and he growled.

“What did you say???”

“I said, come inside me. Fill me full of your cum. I want it all.”

“Holy fuck!”

Rafa’s eyes screwed closed and he pumped everything into you like you asked.

The feel of him swelling and releasing inside you triggered your own orgasm, but you still had a job to do.

You untied him while he was still spasming within you. You held him close as he came back to earth, lightly rubbing and kissing his marked wrists.

You kissed him and murmured, “Are you ok? As he smiled at you and kissed you back.

You handed him a bottle of water as he readjusted.

Rafa took a drink, turned to you and murmured, “You’re amazing you know that? Just what I needed.” And he kissed you again, hand in your hair, massaging your scalp.

Happiness bloomed in your chest.

You lay in his arms and snuggled his neck while he moved his hands down your body. Then he pulled your hair to make you look at him.

“What do you need?”

Rafa’s eyes searched your face, because he always made sure he took care of you, no matter who had been dominant.

“Nothing. Just need you.”

“You got me, love.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead, and then moved to get out of bed.

“No. I have a better idea.” You smiled up at him mischievously.

“First one in the shower calls the shots.”

You got up from the bed, ready to sprint to the bathroom, only to be overtaken by Rafael, who picked you up and backed into the shower, so that he was the first one to enter.

You cast your eyes down as he turned on the water, waiting for his command.

***********

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