𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𓏲ּ𝄢

𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝜗ৎ

[lightshowerrr]

˚꩜｡ ᴿᵉᵘⁿⁱᵒⁿ ⁻ ᴷᵒʳᵉᵃ ᵍⁱʳˡ

⁻⁻ ᴮᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ, ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᴾᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳ ⁱⁿ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ˢᵒ ᶜᵒᵒˡ, ˢᵒ ᶜᵒᵒˡ 𖦹

⋮ ⌗ ┆ @𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒓 - 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏 - 2006 - 𝒃𝒊 ᥫ᭡.

<𝟑 .ᐟ #𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 - #𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 - #𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 🤞🏻

𝜗ৎ 🇵🇹 - 𝒔𝒉𝒆/𝒉𝒆𝒓

𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚 & 𝒑𝒊𝒏 ᥫ᭡

🎧 : open.spotify.com/user/31ifkkwbmlkx5wrnf5d6asftuxoe?si=vpDXmP2vTtWZExX77_yJyw  

📌 : pin.it/gev7tgKhd     ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

[mamkin-tartaglia]

🪓

[sunarinscat]

ROOTS - chapter 2

"fear of the unknown" ⦻

SUMMARY: The 'surgeon' has been making visits across town and everyone is on edge. However, someone seems to be particularly "off" compared to the others.. what's going on with them? As tensions rise a new threat emerges.

PAIRINGS: Eyeless Jack/Jack Nyras x Witch! reader, Brian Thomas, Tim wright, Nina Hopkins, Jeffery woods, Tobias Rogers, Jane Richardson ⋆˚꩜｡

WARNINGS: Disturbing Imagery, blood, self harm (demonic ritual), eventual gore and smut

WORD COUNT: 6.8k

TAGLIST: @zeegenzoogen, @hanootnoot @beels-s1ut-lunar, @little-slyvixen

────────

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter was a long time coming. I've been struggling with pacing since this is my first time writing a longer story, but it's looking like we might have closer to 8-10 chapters :)

-ִ ࣪𖤐 Cher

────────

"Hey, it's ok. I can stay tonight." Your ears ring as the world around you spins. So much has happened in the past week. Not one, but two of your neighbors have been visited by the midnight surgeon.

The name is ridiculous.

'The midnight surgeon,' they had started calling him, as if any of this were even remotely close to medical practice. It's an intrusion, a burglary. It's a violation.

They don't know how he's doing it; the victims never wake up until well after the procedure. They must be drugged; they have to be. How else would Nina completely miss the literal stitches running down her side?

You can't even look out the windows at night without chills dancing along your spine. The angry scar lingers in your mind. As if that isn't bad enough, sleep has been running just outside your grasp. Every time you start to drift off, your eyes fly open as the house creaks and groans. Normal apartment sounds have you clutching at your shirt, throwing yourself out of bed in a frenzy.

You fear that if you fall asleep for even one second he'll get you. He'll drug you, and you won't even be able to wake up and fight for yourself. You'll wake up missing an organ, and there will have been nothing you could do.

It haunts you.

"Did you hear me?" You blink hard, chasing the dark away. Jack.

A hand landing on your shoulder makes you jump, yet as you turn to face him you relax into the touch.

He looks like he's getting more sleep—definitely more than you. His dark eyes lock directly onto yours. His lashes are so long and pretty. You forget your words again. "Ah, um—I—Yes!" He laughs, and despite the fear curling in your gut, butterflies resurface. "I was saying I can stay over tonight. Let me sleep on the couch; I'm the lightest sleeper ever. I'll keep watch for you; won't let anything happen. You need to get some sleep… you look like shit."

A frown bullies your lips. "You think I look like shit?" He laughs again, brazenly, as if none of this unease fazes him. "No, no." His hands are waving in the air. "I mean, your—well, you look great! It's just the bags under your eyes and the fact you look like a zombie that I'm worried about. It's obvious you just need a little rest. Your jaw drops. "You think I look like a zombie?! Jack, this is not the way to get invited over." He smiles, and his hand comes to your face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and rests his thumb against your cheek. It rubs soothing circles into your skin. You let your eyes fall shut, leaning into his hand. He's about to say something, but the sound of footsteps causes him to freeze up, hand flying to his side.

You both scramble to look normal as Jane walks in. She stops in the doorway. "Hey, if you guys want to act fuckin' awkward together, that's fine, but we're all closed up. Everyone else is gone, and I wanna leave too. Go act prepubescent in the parking lot." You and Jack both look to her, then back to each other. Your cheeks burn. "Yeah, sorry, Jane... We'll get going," you mumble it quietly, but she seems to hear what you say. She makes a 'shooing' gesture with her hands, and the two of you hurriedly drop the aprons and grab your bags.

As you step out into the parking lot the cool spring air washes against you. It's not too cold, in fact it's been nice and sunny this week. However, the wind carries a slight chill making the weather feel at least five degrees lower. Leaves are starting to grow on the trees and the grass is looking more lush and green every day. The gravel crunches beneath your feet and you breathe deeply.

You walk Jack to his car. "Can you... Y'know, come over tonight?" he stops, hand resting on his car door. The way he gives you his full attention gets to you. You continue softly, "You're right... I haven't been sleeping. I would really appreciate it. I'll buy you takeout?" He grins at you softly as he unlocks his car. "Yes, I can. You don't need to buy me takeout, though; I have leftovers. I'll be over around seven. "

You're sad he won't eat with you, but you nod eagerly. He takes your hands in his, occupying the space between you. "It's going to be ok." He gives you a reassuring little squeeze. You sigh tiredly, realizing how much you've been letting fear control your life this past week. You wave him goodbye and head to the car, deflating once you're in the front seat.

───────────────

When Jack arrives, it's to a clean apartment. You don't know much about his spirituality, but you don't want to freak him out with all the witchy stuff. You tuck most of it away into corners and cupboards, leaving out only the few books on your shelves. He arrives with a few short raps on your door, and the thump of his shoes against your welcome mat as he takes them off.

Baggy sweatpants and a form fitting T-shirt. Hallelujah. The spirits must be rewarding you for all the stress you've been dealing with.

You welcome him in sweetly, taking his sweater and bag. "So, how were leftovers?" He gives you one of his reserved little smiles. "Delicious, thanks. Sorry I couldn't join you for takeout. It's the kind of stuff I don't like to let go to waste." You give him an inquisitive look. "It's a very rare kind of meat. Expensive… I only treat myself once in awhile. " You nod, pretending to understand. He must be eating Wagyu or something. You wouldn't let that go to waste either. You usher him into the living room.

"Umm, so I set out some blankets for you. Are you sure you wanna..." Your voice drops to a hush. "You don't like… have to sleep on the couch… you could—"

He cuts you off obliviously. "What?"

You shake your head, dismissing the blush on your cheeks along with the idea. "Ah, nothing, nothing. Do you need anything? Water? More pillows?" You look over to find him thumbing through the books on your shelves, fingers glossing over the titles. You follow, hands fidgeting behind your back. "Oh, sorry. No, I don't need anything."

You cringe as you notice the witchy titles still on the shelf, but he glosses past them. "You're quite well read, aren't you?" A smile sheepishly crosses your face at his praise. He pulls out a book by Dostoyevsky, looking through your annotations and notes scrawled on the pages. He pulls out another one... one all too familiar from that night. Quirking an eyebrow at you, he cards through the book. "Demonology?" You laugh awkwardly. "Yup! I like reading about all sorts of spiritualities and topics. It's all very… interesting." You flatten your lips together, mentally face-palming for leaving this book out. Thankfully, he drops it.

Walking back over to the couch, he fluffs the pillow you set for him before falling into the pallet.

He smiles at you. "I'll be just fine here. You go get some rest; we both know you need it."

You reach for the words, attempting to flirt or say something clever, but the exhaustion humming in your skin has rendered you speechless. All you can do is nod as you trail off to your bedroom. He gives you a little wave and a confident smile as you shut the door. What the hell.

As soon as the door is clicked shut, you press your side against the wood and release a breath you didn't know was sitting in your chest. A hand comes up to push the hair out of your face. You sigh. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." You mutter curses as you get cozy and slip into your covers, but your eyelids are already drooping shut.

You don't have the energy to chide yourself right now. It starts to rain outside. You can hear the spring shower tapping against your window and pattering on your roof. The neighbors' wind chime dances in the wind, clinking and sparkling. Your body is weightless and floaty. The last thing you remember as you drift to sleep is Kitty hopping up onto the bed and curling into you, purring and trilling as you both fall into a well-earned rest.

─────────────── 

When you wake up, the house is eerily quiet. Kitty is nowhere to be found, but you smell something delicious wafting from through the cracks of the door. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, you stretch, relishing the feeling of a well-rested body.

You trod out of your room, gently rubbing at your eyes, to see Jack in one of your witchy aprons swaying around the kitchen. He hums softly, totally unaware of your presence. You sneak up behind him, enjoying the atmosphere before tapping his shoulder. You'd think he would jump, but instead he spins around smoothly. He takes you off guard, using his free hand to wrap around your waist as he continues making breakfast with the other. "Yeah, you look so much better when you've slept. You should do it more often." You chuckle, relaxed for the first time in what feels like forever. "Well, good morning to you too."

Kitty pops out from behind a corner, wrapping around Jack's leg and chirping. "You seem to be a crowd favorite. " He lets you go, stooping over to scratch Kitty between her ears. "I think your cat has good taste." Your eyes wander down his firm arms and hands, large and worn from working in the garden. "Maybe we both do…" He doesn't say anything, but his ears turn bright red. "Jack, would you stay? Just until they catch this… thing… I've been so on edge and you jus—" Jack silences you accidentally as he flips the pancakes, and they sizzle.

You don't finish the thought; you know he understands. "Yeah, I can stay as long as you need. Whatever you need, just let me know."

You breathe a sigh of relief and excitement. The high school giddiness that comes with a crush bubbles up inside of you. "I... um..."

He eyes you mischeviously, quirking an eyebrow. "Yes? Your ears are red now; you can tell. Wow, is it hot in here? Your face is hot. You chuckle nervously as you evade his gaze. "Nothing... just... I'm glad that we met. You cringe at your words. You can tell he's naturally nonchalant. Not in the performative man sort of way, but in the way that he doesn't talk about his feelings often. Was that weird for you to say? You drag your eyes from the floor, daring to look back at him. His smile is soft and warm. "Me too."

 —

"He said he'd stay with you as long as you need?" You smile stupidly at the flowers you are arranging. "His exact words Nina." She makes a noise caught between approval and reluctance, drawing your attention from the flowers to her sour face. "I mean don't get me wrong I'm all for the you and Jack pipeline, but isn't this a little fast? I mean this is adjacent to moving in together and we've known this guy what?! A month or two???"

You feel a defensive twinge somewhere inside. "I mean yeah, but under the circumstances… I think it's justified?" Nina's eyes narrow. Ouch. You can tell she's biting her tongue. "Ok, whatever, you guys are cute I guess." You both go back to the boquets as a tight silence falls between you. It doens't last. Tim and Brian slice it open, tramping inside as the bell above the door chimes. Their boots track dirt on the floor and they bring with them the smell of earth.

They slough off their gloves and gear, completely unaware of what they've walked into. You can feel their eyes scanning—trying to figure out the lack of conversation. Brian pipes up, "Do you two have any fresh coffee in here? Shit in the greenhouse is like three days old." You smile nervously. Nina sighs in disappointment. She fiddles with the clips in her hair as she chides them. "Of course we have fresh coffee. That's what happens when you don't stay loyal to us... you get weird shit from Toby. You chuckle despite yourself. Nina is funny... and she's right. Whatever the fuck Toby's concocting in there probably isn't coffee. You guys are safer with us anyways." You snicker.

 You lead the men to the back room, laughing as you reach for the mugs. Tim mumbles something about betrayal, and Brian bellows a laugh. You pour their coffee black, the way they like it, watching your reflection in the liquid as you talk. "How's work out there today?" Tim shrugs and scratches the back of his head. "Nothing special, but Janey is on one today. She's been running around barking orders all day. Maybe those fuckin' cemicals in the makeup are getting to her." Nina swats him playfully. "Don't be mean," You laugh.

"How about you two? Anything interesting in the floral department? Nina's eyes lock with yours, and you decide to forget about the weird conversation. You smile at her. She takes it as an invitation and wraps an arm around you, rubbing your shoulder as she laughs at the guys. "Nope. Just boring flower stuff for us." All you can do is nod. The bell chimes from the front, and you can tell by the clack of heels that it's Jane. Tim and Brian flinch, whispering to cover for them while they sneak around back.

"Jane! Uh... What can I do for you?

Her bat-like, lacy sleeves flutter as she looks through the order sheet. She looks up from her clipboard, locking eyes with you. "How are the flowers for this funeral? It's coming up in two days. I need to know you guys are on top of it." A shiver runs down your spine. "Oh, yeah, we're working on them right now, act-actually." You point dumbly at the bouquets you and Nina had been distracted from. She checks something off on her list and then scans the store one more time. When she finds nothing else to worry about, she nods, making her way to the door.

Just before she's about to leave, she falters, mumbling something. She seems... worried? "Yes?" Her hand falters on the door handle. You notice an unfamiliar look flash over her face. She recomposes herself.

"Nothing. Nevermind."

With that, she's gone.

A few moments later Nina erupts from the back, face flushed and eyes sparkling. "Good job covering for us; She didn't even notice they were here." You thumb at a stray petal on the counter as she goes on about Tim and Brian. "Hey, have you talked to Jane today?" Nina stops mid-ramble, thoughtfully tapping her cheek. "No, I haven't. Why?" You resume your work on the boquet as you ponder. "Oh, no reason... she just seems kind of off today? Like she's extra stressed. We don't have any big orders right now, so... It's just odd." She smiles sympathetically at you as she also returns to her bouquet.

"I know everything seems tense right now... with what's happening around town, but we're not the only department she manages. Maybe there's some big landscaping ordeal... or a problem with the truck or the greenhouse! You never know. I'm sure she's just stressed in the way managers are supposed to be."

You sigh. "Yeah, you're probably right."

 ───────────────

Nina was not right. The next week is the most stressful seven days you've ever worked as a florist. No, there were not any massive orders, nor was there any issue with stock. There was, however, an angel of death nitpicking your every movement. Jane went from her usual haughty no-nonsense attitude to a flurry of misery, anxiety, and deadlines.

She hovered over every task you performed, watching like a hawk and asking questions about every move you made. Everything you had to do doubled in time and effort—purely because she was unbearable. This resulted in you and Nina scrambling to meet deadlines and working overnight to finish orders for events that could not be pushed back. There was hardly any point in Jack coming over to help you sleep because you weren't sleeping. You were working on orders, and those fuckass eyebags had returned.

All this schpeel to say that she is currently getting on your last nerve and if—"Jane, so help me gods, if you do not take a step back and let me do what I need to do!" "You will NOT have a florist!" Nina grimaces, and you can tell she's thinking the same thing. Your manager huffs. "As if you would actually quit." You can feel yourself losing your last nerve. It's several hours after close. The darkness outside battles the flickering, fluorescent lights that have your eyes burning. You set down your tools and clench your fists, trying to contain your frustration.

"No, ordinarily I would not. But this week has been hell, and if you don't snap out of whatever psycho mode you've gone into, I will be gone. Gone with the wind. Fucking gone. I did not become a florist to be stressed all the time!"

Jane stutters, and her usually impeccable makeup seems to crack. Her eyes dart to the floor as she crosses her arms. The quiet rings through the room for a moment. "Nina, it's late. Clock out and go home."

Fuck, you're in for it now.

You coyly resume your work, hoping it will be enough to appease her wrath. For all the talk you do, you actually like this job. The silence as Nina grabs her things and punches out is deafening. Every move she makes echoes through the dimly lit shop. When she finally closes the door, your chest becomes tight.

"You're right."

You look up. "Hmm?" Jane's eyes are glassy. She walks towards the bathroom, leaving you alone. For a second you're worried you made her cry and now your fucked. When she comes back you can see her eyes. They're a beautiful blue, but you have grown so accustomed to the massive black sclera lenses that it almost looks more unnatural for her to have regular eyes. "Sorry, I had to take those out. But you're right, I have been acting a bit.. much." Your jaw drops as you make a sound of disbelief. "You think?" She winces and you instantly feel guilty… ( but not that guilty ).

"It's just.. I don't know how to say this…. I think-" She inhales shakily. "I think that thing.. whatever it is- it's after me."

You know exactly what she's referencing.

"What do you mean it's after you? How can it be after you? No one's ever seen it." She bites her lip, teeth bright against her dark lipstick. "I think I have." You drop your tools again, turning to her. "What the hell, Jane? Go on, obviously." She's shaking. "So, last week something broke in through one of my windows. I—Well, I called the police, but they said it was just a large animal like... a coyote or some shit. I know it wasn't. Now I've been seeing th-th-this thing."

She talks so fast she has to pause to catch her breath.

"I've been seeing it! And it's fleshy and gross. It's like a human, but... oh, its arms and legs... they're long and disgusting. I hear its claws on my windows and my roof. I know it's there, but I haven't, like, fully seen it. The police don't believe me." There are tears streaming down her face now. They're muddy with white makeup and black eyeliner. You haven't seen her this way before. It scares you.

You know that despite your nerves this could be the best time to take action. If you can convince the authorities it's real... if you can get it off the streets, everyone will be able to sleep well again. Nina, Jane, your neighbors… You take Jane's hand in yours. "I believe you... I'm sorry you've been going through this alone. Jane, are you sure this thing is what's been taking kidneys?"

She is sobbing now. "I don't know? Does it matter? What else could it be?! All I know is I tried to sleep after that first night and I saw it.. I heard it. I've been sleeping at a hotel the least few nights but.. ev-every time I go home to get something I feel it. It's watching me! The only way I can distract myself is to put everything into work!" Her nails dig into her shoulders as sobs wrack her body. "I know you all think I'm cruel, ok, but every second I spend not thinking about work.. I'm thinking about that- that monster!¹ It wants me! I know it does!"

Poor thing must've been so afraid this whole time. You had no idea. You need to take action, but right now she needs to rest. Ackwardly, you try to hug her. You hush her cries and tell her it's going to be ok. "Hey, hey.. listen. Jack's been staying at my place because I've been scared of this thing too, ok? Why don't you come stay for awhile? You'll feel safer with more people."

—

It doesn't take much to convince her. That night she comes home with you. You help her pack up what she has in the hotel and bring it back to your place. When she's fast asleep on the couch in a T-shirt and bonnet, you hardly recognize her. Sure she's pale, but nothing like how she is at work. Underneath every goth there's flesh. I guess.

Jack stands beside you, rubbing your lower back as he sighs. "No wonder shit's been crazy this week." His voice is raspy with sleep. "Yeah, no wonder..." you echo. You rest your head on his shoulder as you think. "You think she saw it? " He leads you back to your bedroom as he mulls over the question. "No. I think maybe she saw something else. What she described… How would something like that have the delicacy to stitch someone up? "You scoff. "You're suggesting a more terrifying second thing we have to worry about? Seriously, what is going on with this place? What's next, a grotesque tooth fairy?"

He chuckles, but you both know the concern is real. Despite it all, hearing him chuckle makes you swoon. He moves to get up, but your hand shoots out to stop him. "Wait."

"Hmm, what's up?"

"Where are you planning to sleep?" He smiles. "Aw, I was just going to take the floor in the living room. You frown pointedly. "What? No, you're not? What kind of host do you think I am?" The grin on his face softens. He does something unexpected. He leans over, breath tickling your face.

His smell, that earthy cologne, fills your senses. A kiss is planted on your forehead. It's soft and tender, accompanied by a hand holding your face. When he leans back, there's something sad in his expression. "I think you're the kind of host who needs to rest. I am the kind of guest who's going to sleep on the floor. Goodnight. "You wish you could protest, but he takes your words with him as he walks out of your room. You almost forget about the horrors this city is accumulating.

—

The morning greets you with rain again. You wake up well past your alarm to find out that your manager has given everyone the day off. You discover this as you walk into the living room to see her out of drag, sitting cross legged on your couch, eating Hot Cheetos and watching a rom-com. Suppose the girl deserves to relax. You drag yourself to the kitchen to find Jack cooking it up (as he does).

Your favorite sight is his muscles flexing as he makes you breakfast. He flips an omelet, and his back ripples. "You know, you don't have to cook for me every day. I'm grown," you say. Please never stop cooking for me; you're so sexy. "Take me right now" is what you're thinking. He slides the omlet onto a plate, garnishing it. "I enjoy it." The plate slides over towards you, and a fork sneaks into your hand. "Well, if you insist." You sit eating and kicking your legs at the bar. It's a nice morning.

Sunlight streams into your window despite the rain. Your hanging plants are lush and green. Late spring has graced your kitchen. It's almost summer, though, and you're ready to have the windows open all season. It's funny that you can even think of normalcy with everything happening.

Dishes clink as Jack rinses them in the sink. You pipe up: "Hey, it's weird, you know? This second monster isn't even scary because everything seems so surreal." He sighs at you. "Yeah, I think that's a normal human thing. Bad on top of worse becomes fine. "You snort. "Whatever that means... Breakfast is delicious, by the way. You can hear the smile in his voice. "Good." Jane walks in. "Didn't you say you've got a cat? Where's she at? You raise an eyebrow. Why?" Her lips purse. The stereotypes are correct; I'm a sucker for cats.

Laughing to yourself, you stand up from your seat. "Here, kitty. Tch, tch, tch." You walk around the apartment calling her name. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." No response? You check under your bed. Crouched in the back of all your junk is Kitty. Her eyes glow in the darkness. Your boss stands there idly, but all you can do is shrug at her. "She doesn't always like new people. Not sure when she'll come out," she pouts. You smile. Serves her right for what she put you through this week.

Jack suddenly draws the curtains. "I have to go—I forgot. Have to take care of somethin'" Is all he says as he walks out the door. "Okkk, weird day for all of us. Well, Jane, I hope staying here puts your mind at ease. You're welcome to stay until they catch this thing. " She nods, and you almost regret offering. You don't wanna live with your manager. " Will you go back to my house with me to get some stuff? Even in the daylight it... gives me the creeps.

No the hell you will not. There are fuckin monsters an—" "Sure! Let's go." You snatch your keys off their hook, and before you know it, you're on your way. Awesome.

Jane's house gives you the creeps… And it's not just because she hobbies in taxidermy. When she unlocks the door, the whole house groans. It's even worse the second you step inside.

She asks you to stand watch by her bedroom door while she packs. You're afraid to even be in the hallway alone. Perhaps it's a placebo, but you can feel something, some energy watching you. It gives you the chills. You're definitely taking a cleansing bath tonight and making sure your protections are up to par.

You can hear her rummaging around in her room. Drawers open and shut. Something is dragged across the hardwood floor. You sigh, leaning back on your heels.

"This is all your fault-"

"Excuse me?" The words make you bristle. Jane comes into view dragging a suitcase out of her room. "All of this. You didn't have to invite me to stay. I'm your boss; I know it's weird. But… thanks."

You relax at her admission. "Aside from this week, you've been good to me, and anyone would be afraid in your position. I'm glad that I can help." She hoists her luggage up, carrying it toward the car. Once it's all loaded up, she claps her hands together. "Alright, just one more thing. Follow me." You grimace when she leads you back into the creepy house.

With every step you take the scent of unease grows stronger. She leads you down a hallway you haven't seen yet. You swallow hard as the fear grows. She stops at the last door; the hallway isn't lit here, and the shadows seem to circle you menacingly. Gripping the knob, she bangs the door twice before pushing inside. "Rusty old thing. " You look behind you towards the light. You can see the front door from here, the safety of daylight. You turn to face her. "Haha, yeah…" She smiles sympathetically.

You look around at the slim hallway you've walked into. There's a washer, a dryer, and a few cabinets. There's another door directly in front of you. It looks like the garage door. She sighs. "Listen, when it was really bad last week, this is where I heard the scratching. I keep some important documents in a cabinet in the garage. It's never been a problem during the daytime, but can you just watch while I run in there and grab them? I'd feel safer." The words 'all your fault'echo in your mind. "Yeah, of course."

Her fingers curl around the doorknob, and you hear her take a shaky breath. As she opens the door, she beckons you to the entrance. "Just wait here." She slips into the darkness, and you think you've lost sight, but the motion light is quick to turn on. It flickers, dimly illuminating the grey space creeping in on Jane. You watch her pad carefully across the cold floor. When she reaches the cabinet at the back of the garage, you silently cheer. The rustling of the papers echoes throughout the room, and it makes you cringe.

You jump as something else rustles, but when nothing happens, you assume it was just boxes shifting. "Jane! Hurry up!" She shoots you a look and whispers across the room. "Shut up! I'm still your boss." Just as she pulls out the papers she needs with a fist pump, something snaps. A box falls; something moves. Her eyes go wide and she stands for all of a second before bolting for the door.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" She chants as she runs desperately. You see a shadow in the corner, something way too big for you to have missed it. Jane rips inside the doorframe, screaming at you to "Shut the fucking door!" You slam it and watch as she locks it and piles shit against it. Something slams against it from the garage. Nails screech as it scrapes the thin barrier keeping you safe. "Help me move this!" She's on her knees pushing the washer out from its spot against the wall.

You rush over and pull with all your weight until the washer is snug against the door. The scratching gets faster, more furious—you freeze for a moment, drawing a blank on what to do next. All your fault.

A grotesque paw breaks through the door and in the dim light you can see an eye glittering. It's locked onto you. The creature seems delighted by its progress and begins to chip at the half of the door that's not blocked by the washer.

A harsh hand around your wrist yanks you from the hallway and back towards the light of the front door. "Snap out of it!" Hands frisk you, finding your keys and manhandling you into the car. You hear her start the car and feel her floor it as she swerves out of the driveway. It's all your fault. The two of you are well down the road within a minute, but you could swear that in the rearview mirror you make out something. A person that's too tall and too long. Fingers snap in front of your face, and you blink hard. Before you know it, she's slapping you. "I'm here! I'm here! Gods, sorry. I—I wasn't ready. I didn't think—" Jane snorts. "Yeah, the minute that thing started chasing me, you stopped thinking," She's breathing heavily and obviously rattled, but even so, your manager chides you. You sigh guiltily. "Jane, I'm sorry, I—" She cuts you off abruptly. "It's fine. It was terrifying for both of us. But I really didn't think you'd be the kind of person to freeze up like that." You sink into the passenger seat, rubbing your arms.

Every time you blink, you see the silhouette of that thing in your mind. "Yeah, me neither."

 ───────────────

"Ok. So, it's definitely real." Jack raises an eyebrow at you. "You didn't believe her?" You scoff as you try to explain. "Well, I thought it was some perverted freak running around playing doctor. I didn't expect it to be an actual fucking monster." He sighs, leaning on his elbow and tracing circles into your skin.

This is the closest you've gotten him to sleeping in your bed, and you're sure that once you go to bed, he'll slip right out. The closeness is reassuring; you think he knows that. "I've never told anyone this, but the reason I skipped town and moved out here is because I saw something like that. "You inhale softly. "What happened?" He sits up straight, and you lean into the crook of his arm as he gathers his thoughts.

"Well, I was in college, believe it or not. I was seeing this girl. I mean, we weren't dating, but I really liked her. She and her friends liked to hang out by this cave, but one night there was this freak storm. It was genuinely the worst storm I've ever experienced. I woke up, and I just knew somehow… that she was in the cave. I had to warn her."

You feel a twinge at the mention of another girl, but you nestle closer. You can tell this is a painful memory.

"So, I ran through the woods to this fuckass cave. I show up and I can see, even from a distance, that something isn't right. All of her friends are there, and they're all in robes. They were chanting a name, summoning something. I see them grab this kid. They start doing awful stuff to him. I watched them rip out his eyes and pour shit into them. Then I saw it. Whatever they did, whatever sacrifice they made. They summoned a demon. He was horrible. I couldn't stay in that place afterwards, not knowing that he was there. Not after everything I saw. So, I left."

You look at him as he finishes his story. His face is beautiful, but for the first time you notice how hollow it is. You see a fear, or sadness, in his eyes that you hadn't noticed before. It's permanent, barely noticeable, and always there. You lock fingers with him, squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry that happened, and you had to watch that. You act so strong all the time; I would've never known." He smiles halfheartedly. "Yeah, well, I guess monsters are everywhere, huh? Can't keep running; every new place has its demons. Besides... I found somethin' worth staying for." He kisses the top of your head. You groan as he stretches and starts to get out of bed. "Jack. Stay tonight."

He pulls you into bed and tucks the sheets around you. "Not yet." He leaves the room, shutting the door with a soft click. Crickets hum through your window, and windchimes play as you stare at the ceiling. All your fault. Jack has seen this before, and it was when someone was trying to summon a demon. All your fault. You turn hotly, burrowing your head into the pillows to try and quiet your mind. It's all your fucking fault.

—

The next day at work isn't great. Ok, the monster's at Jane's house. Nobody else knows about it, and no one else will know, because you don't need to stress them out. Great. But you do know. You are stressed out. You have an order due tomorrow, and you are super behind because the shop was closed yesterday and Jane's anxious nagging set everyone back. Additionally, Nina cannot seem to arrange in peace. She has something to say. Peachy.

So you're still living with him? You aren't scared? Has he done anything weird or like... I don't know what vibe you are getting. "You cut the stems off the flower, sharply exhaling as you peel your eyes away from your work. Nina, I—" She sighs before you can even get a word out. "Hey, you can't blame me! I understand you don't care, but he's a complete stranger; he could be a creep. " You can't help the feeling of unease that creeps into your voice as you respond. "Yeah, but I'd rather take my chances with him than whatever is out there cutting into people." All your fault .

Nina sighs, pushing her bouquet away and facing you. "Sweetheart, I say this in all honesty, not to fearmonger… For all we know, he could be the thing cutting people up. I just think you should be careful." Your hand slips on the stem that you're cutting the thorns off of, and you feel the sting pricking your skin. All your fault. You falter, an unexplainable anger surfacing in your gut. "Ok, I know he's maybe a bit socially awkward, but you don't know him like I do. You can't just judge someone because they don't have the same constant upbeat attitude as you. Jack would never—he—"

Nina has her hands out as if trying to calm a skittish animal. She inches toward you as you grow increasingly bewildered. "I'm not saying anything! I just think it's weird that all this started right after he moved here. We don't know who we can trust right now. I'm the one who's been cut up; I think I have a reason to be skeptical. "You chuff at her baseless accusations. "And you really think who or whatever this is… is just out in society living a normal life? It's probably camped out in the woods or something. With that logic... for all I know, you could be the psychopath cutting people up." All your fault. You point an accusatory finger at Nina, and she flinches. "Girl, it's obviously not—" You round the counter, gripping the marble for stability. No. What evidence do you even have to accuse Jack of that?! You're just making things up because you can't stand to see me happy." Nina tries to respond, but you storm into the back, dropping your apron and whipping your bag off the hook. "Can it, Nina. I can't handle this right now. Tell everyone I went home sick." She makes sounds of disbelief as you storm towards the door. "Wait—" slam!

You press your back against the door as you breathe heavily. Your fingers scrape into the wood, chipping at the paint as you ground yourself. Gods… Why does this hurt so bad? It's like every word she says against Jack is pointed towards you. You know she's not being crazy… It's a reasonable concern.

Pressing off the door, you take a clarifying breath as you stand up straight. You can hear muffled voices. You hear Tim's boots as he stomps in and the consoling tone he takes with Nina. You also hear the disbelief in her voice as she relays a sob story you can't quite make out. Well, Jane's going to find out about this one way or another, so you may as well go home. Fuck the order.

All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault.

It replays in your head as you drive. You know why you're upset. You know, but you don't want to admit it. You've known since Nina was in the hospital. It's been lingering in the back of your mind. Then, when that thing tried to hurt Jane.... You could feel the energy seeping off of it. It was familiar. You knew what it was and where it came from.

All your fault. All your fault. All your fault.All your fault.All your fault All yourfaultAllyourfault.

Finally, with Jack's story- you realized the reason everyone is in danger is you. It's your fault. You summoned it. You brought this into the mortal realm. You've been trying to hide from it, to play civilian. You turned a blind eye. You couldn't sleep at night - not because you were scared it was after you, but because your subconscious couldn't handle the guilt. You wanted to give up on witchcraft, to believe the ritual didn't work. You brought this here. It's your fault that Nina's kidney was stolen and that Jane can't sleep at night. It's your demon. It's your responsibility to get rid of it.

Notes: yayaya If you made it to the end of ch 2! Taglist is still open! Comment to be added :)

Reblogs are always appreciated <3

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

!! SOUTHERN MEDIC EJ SCRIBBLES !!

Tried a slightly different rendering style and I think it looks pretty good :p

Shoutout @velvettfog for the concept it is SO scrumptious to me.

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Strategy Will Get Ya’² Baby !! .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐

➽──────────────❥

Super mysterious, very alluring. It might be unprofessional, but who said you couldn’t find love in a butcher shop?

AKA: Text’s between you and your favorite late-night customer ✮⋆˙

Ft. J. Nyras !! ✶⋆.˚

You Are Here -> !! Pt 4 !! Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 <<

➽──────────────❥

➽──────────────❥

EJ being eater supreme and having no idea pls free him

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

!! NAT DOODLES !! ^3^

Happy gay month cuz you gay an stuff 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[rainrot4me]

Seven Minutes in Heaven - Tim Wright (Masky)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

─────────────────────────────── ready to start - arcade fire

── .✦ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.

CONTAINS NSFW, MINORS DNI

✦ . Summary: (No correlation to other parts, only prologue) The bottle lands on Tim.

✦ . Characters: Tim Wright (Masky) x Reader

✦ . Warning: Alcohol, cigarettes, erotic asphyxiation, breath control play, semi-public sex, dirty talk, oral fixation, blowjobs, choking, risky sex, nicotine high, dizziness, hair pulling, fingers in mouth, spit

✦ . Words: 12.1k

✦ . Note: Please do not hang me and kill me for how long this took to post. Apologies! Hopefully the length makes up for it! School is officially over, so now I can dedicate my time to writing more, so be on the lookout! For all my blow job lovers (I see you and I appreciate you), this is for you!!!

─────────────────────────────────────────────

It was ironic watching your fate be decided by a lousy beer bottle you hadn’t even gotten to drink out of yet.

But everything in this lousy mansion is out of your hands anyway.

The bottle spun on the coffee table, wobbling through the leftover alcohol and cigarette ash stains before it slowed and finally stopped.

It landed on—

You looked up.

Tim.

Before the room could go completely silent, Jeff let out a loud, ugly laugh.

“Well shit,” he crowed, leaning back on the couch and covering his face with his hands. “Looks like Timmy gets the consolation prize. Try not to bore her to death in there, old man.”

Tim didn’t snap back. He just stared Jeff down from across the circle, his eyes dark and narrowed. There was something almost smug in the way he tilted his head, like he already knew exactly how much this was eating Jeff alive, how he could practically see right through his asshole demeanor. 

He stared at Jeff long enough for the boy to sink back into himself a little, but not without rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he broke the stare down to glare out the window.

But then Tim turned and walked straight past you, his boots thumping on the floorboards as he headed down the short hallway toward the closet like he had all the time in the world.

You stayed seated for a beat, your heart suddenly kicking harder than it should.

Nina wasn’t having it. She popped up behind you with a bright, mischievous laugh and hooked her arms under yours, hauling you to your feet.

“Nope! Don’t be a baby, babe. Go on!”

She gave you a firm shove toward the direction Tim just went. A couple of the others whistled and clapped as you stumbled forward, but as you looked back one final time in anxiousness, all you saw was Jeff’s wide eyes watching you fade around the corner. In amongst the distraction, Brian had moved from his spot and was now leaning against the wall nearest the hall towards the closet. As you approached, he rummaged into his jacket pocket and fished out a silver flip lighter, pushing it into your hands before you could pass.

You looked down at it, feeling the cold weight in your hand, before looking at him—only for the blond to give you a very confusing nod before he let you go. You shoved it into your back pocket.

Tim was already at the closet door. He yanked it open, reached up, and pulled the chain for the single bare bulb dangling inside. Weak yellow light spilled out over the hanging coats and junk boxes, flumes of dust floated out, and you had to wave the air in front of your face to keep from coughing. He stepped aside, one hand still holding the door, and tilted his head toward the inside.

You hesitated. “Tim, I can just—”

“Get over yourself,” he cut you off, keeping his face flat and unreadable. Before you could retort again, he stepped in close, using his body to herd you forward until you were inside the cramped space. The door pulled shut behind him with a final click.

The muffled music and laughter from the living room dulled instantly, only the floorboard thumps under your shoes to keep you company.

Tim reached down and fiddled with the dials on his wristwatch, setting the timer with a few soft clicks. Seven minutes. The little hands began ticking immediately.

You both stood awkwardly about a foot and a half apart, your backs pressed against opposite walls of the cramped closet. You kept your eyes glued to the floor, occasionally fiddling with the hem of your shirt or picking at your fingernails. Tim, on the other hand, didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was watching you. His gaze was steadily honed on you, occasionally flicking toward the closed door like he was listening for footsteps or somebody snooping outside. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, digging around until he found his trusty pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and slid it between his lips like he always did.

Then he started patting his other pockets.

“Shit,” he grunted under his breath. “Left my lighter with Brian.”

“Oh, wait.”

You hesitated for a second before reaching into your back pocket and pulling out the worn silver lighter Brian had given you moments ago. You held it out to him without a word.

Tim’s eyes flicked down to the lighter, then back up to your face. A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took it from your fingers, his hand brushing yours.

He flicked it open, lit the cigarette, and took a long, deep drag. The tip glowed bright orange in the dim light. He exhaled a thick plume of smoke toward the ceiling, watching it curl and drift in the stale air, pockets of smog dancing like little ghosts around the lightbulb.

You raised an eyebrow. “You really think it’s smart to smoke in a closet this small?”

Tim shrugged one shoulder, completely unbothered. He took another drag, then lowered the cigarette, smoke pooling from between his lips as he spoke.

“Probably not.” His voice was gravelly. “But I've already decided to be in here with you. Might as well add this to the list of bad choices tonight.”

You laughed.

He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes never really leaving you. The smoke continued to drift lazily between the two of you, filling the small space with the sharp scent of tobacco.

You shifted your weight against the wall under the intensity of his stare, your arms loosely crossed. The smoke was already starting to make the small space feel even stuffier.

“Do you think Jeff’s gonna retaliate at all?” you asked one-offedly, reaching for anything to conversate about.

Tim took another slow drag, then exhaled through his nose. “No.”

He sounded sure. Almost bored.

“Jeff’s emotional and jealous and got a nasty fucking temper,” he continued, flicking ash onto the floor. “But if he’s actually mad, he’ll turn that shit on somebody else. He’s too scared to come at me.”

You let out a laugh, nodding. “Yeah… that sounds about right.”

Tim tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Why’re you concerned?”

“No reason,” you said quickly, shrugging. “Just… you two seem like you’re in some kind of secret competition. It’s weird.”

Tim went quiet for a long moment. He brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking two slow puffs while he thought. Smoke curled up between you like a hazy curtain.

“Maybe we are,” he finally admitted.

You shook your head. “You’re not the type to do childish shit like that.”

Tim let out a short, rough laugh, almost like he was surprised by your response.

“For the right person?” he said, “I might.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than moments before. The muffled noise from the living room seemed to fade even further away, only the cadence of the speakers thumping enough to let you know the party was still happening. You were both just… looking at each other. 

Then Tim pulled the cigarette from his mouth and held it out to you, offering it between two fingers.

You took it carefully. When you brought it to your lips, you could still feel the warmth from his mouth on the filter. You took a puff, the smoke filling your lungs with that familiar burn.

Tim’s gaze stayed locked on your mouth, watching the way your lips wrapped around the same spot his had just been. His head tilted slightly, something unreadable shifting in his face as he tracked the motion.

When you lowered the cigarette and exhaled, he was still staring. So you stared right back at him, no longer pretending to study the floor.

Tim looked… different tonight, even if only slightly. His clothes were his usual thick jacket and jeans, but they were cleaner than normal, no random gunpowder smudges, no dirt or dried blood. His hair was a little more put together, and that ever-present stern, gruff expression sat heavy on his face like it always did. 

It was nice seeing him without his mask amongst so many people, but that also meant that he couldn’t hide behind it, that he had to face you and everyone else with his whole self—no Masky there to save him.

“You’re being tense,” he said bluntly, breaking the silence.

“Well, yeah,” you answered, letting out a short breath.

Tim shrugged one shoulder, reaching out to take the cigarette from you and promptly taking two deep drags. “We’ve been alone together plenty of times before. This isn’t any different.”

“It is different,” you countered. “This isn't a mission or some supply run or something. This is… this.” You gestured vaguely at the cramped space left between you.

“I didn’t know context mattered that much to our relationship.”

You let out an awkward little laugh, shifting against the wall. “It’s funny you’re even calling it a relationship.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

You just shook your head, laughing again under your breath, unsure how to answer. He was being so blunt tonight, more direct than usual, like the straightforwardness was a shield. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw kept flexing, but he wouldn’t relax. It was like he was ready to punch you and run at any moment, if he wasn’t going to yell at you first.

“…Are you nervous?” you asked quietly.

Tim didn’t answer right away. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist, studying the little ticking hands.

“Six minutes left,” he said instead, completely sidestepping the question.

You let out an awkward laugh and shook your head.

“It’s okay if you’re nervous, you know,” you told him. “This is weird, but it’s just a stupid game to embarrass everyone. It’s not serious.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “I know that.”

He passed the cigarette back. You brought it to your lips and inhaled, mostly just to give your hands something to do. The smoke filled your lungs, but it did nothing to ease the thick tension sitting between you, even if it did make you a little lightheaded.

The two of you kept staring at each other.

You finally spoke again. “Are you only playing because Jeff egged you on?”

Tim let out a dry laugh and looked down at his boots for a second before his gaze returned to yours.

“No,” he said simply. “I’m playing because I wanted to.”

“Why would you want to play something like this?”

“Why would you?” he asked, turning the question right back on you.

The air felt heavier. You swallowed. “I’m… not sure.”

Tim’s eyebrow lifted slightly.

“Really?” It seemed like he was almost teasing you.

You held his gaze for a long second, then let out a breath. 

“No.”

He took the cigarette back when you offered it, but he didn’t bring it to his lips right away. He just kept watching you, smoke curling slowly from the tip.

The timer on his watch continued its quiet ticking. Five minutes left.

Tim finally spoke again. “Good. At least we’re being honest now.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You think I’m not being honest?”

Tim shook his head slowly. “Not with yourself.”

You let out a short, disbelieving breath. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not being honest with what you want.”

“Oh, so you know what I want now?” you shot back, irritation rising fast. “You know what’s best for me?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, like it was obvious. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

That irritated you more than it should have. You pushed off the wall slightly, glaring up at him.

“You’re just being rude now, man.”

“You’ve never had a problem with my rudeness before.”

“Context,” you muttered, reiterating the idea he couldn’t seem to grasp.

“Ah, yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Context.” He took one last drag before dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his boot. “Like the context of Jeff pretending he’s got some kind of claim over you… and you going along with it.”

Your stomach twisted. “Jeff does not have a claim over me.”

The words had barely left your mouth before Tim took a single, big step forward.

The already cramped closet shrank instantly. He loomed over you, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the weak light from the bulb overhead. The smell of smoke and pine and that familiar warm scent that always clung to him filled the air between you, almost overwhelming you. You pressed your back against the wall once again.

He stared down at you, almost looming.

“Then who does?”

His face was close now, close enough that you could see the thick stubble on his jaw and the tired lines at the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t touching you, but the sheer presence of him made your back press harder against the wall.

You glared up at him, your heart kicking against your ribs as the silence stretched, but after a long moment, you finally answered.

“Nobody.”

You caught it.

For just a split second, Tim’s dark eyes flicked down to your mouth as you said the word, watching the shape of it on your lips. He snapped them back up to yours almost immediately, probably hoping you didn’t catch it. But you did.

You swallowed, then added, “Not even Slenderman.”

Tim let out a short, rough laugh.

“He wouldn’t like hearing you say that too much.”

“Well…” you tilted your head slightly, still staring up at him, “he’s not here, is he?”

This time, Tim didn’t even try to hide it. His gaze dropped to your mouth again and stayed there longer. You watched his jaw flex, the muscle ticking under the skin as his eyes traced the curve of your lips. 

It felt like it was getting harder to breathe.

When his eyes finally dragged back up to yours, they seemed darker than before.

“No,” he murmured. “He’s not.”

Before you could say anything more, Tim reached into his jacket pocket again, pulling out the same pack of cigarettes.

You huffed. “Seriously? It’s been, what, two minutes since your last one. Can you really not take a break?”

He didn’t answer. He just shook another cigarette out, lit it with the same silver lighter you’d handed him earlier, and took two puffs. The tip burned bright orange, and exhaled the smoke through his nose. 

Then his hand moved.

He reached out and clasped your jaw firmly, his thick fingers pressing into your cheeks and smooshing them together until your lips puckered. Your hand flew up on instinct, grabbing his wrist and tugging down, but he didn’t budge an inch. His grip was strong.

“Tim—” your voice was a little muffled against the strain of his grip. For a second you wondered if you’d actually pissed him off.

“Open.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Open your mouth.”

You searched his face, looking for any sign that he was joking, but there was nothing playful there. You didn’t know if you could laugh out of caution of making him more mad, so… you did what you were told.

When he was satisfied, Tim leaned in and placed the lit cigarette between your puckered lips, then used his thumb to close your mouth around it.

“You know what to do,” he murmured.

He didn’t let go of your jaw.

You had no choice but to inhale. You took a normal, comfortable drag, the smoke filling your lungs before you exhaled it through your nose. You stared up at him, confused, waiting for some kind of explanation. Was this supposed to be degrading? Some weird power move? Or some weird one-off joke that you’ve never known him to make?

But his grip stayed firm on your cheeks, and his expression didn’t change. He didn’t look satisfied.

You started to squirm, pawing at his arm. “Tim—”

“More,” he said.

You tried to speak around the cigarette, fumbling the filter between your teeth. “What’s happening right now—”

He stepped even closer, one of his boots planting between your feet so your legs were forced to part slightly. His other hand came up to tilt your chin higher, making you look straight up into his face. The overhead light cast harsh shadows over his stern features.

“Keep going,” he grunted.

You furrowed your brows, but obeyed, taking another drag. Then another. He watched every inhale with utmost interest.

“C’mon,” he said quietly, almost coaxing you. “Don’t stop.”

You inhaled again, deeper this time, pulling harder on the cigarette. The smoke burned hotter going down. Your head started to feel light.

“Again,” he continued. “As much as you can.”

You kept going, breath after breath, the nicotine hitting harder with every pull. Your vision began to swim. A heavy, dizzy fog rolled over your mind as the rush flooded your system. Your knees felt weak. The hand you had on his arm tightened, trying to steady yourself as the world tilted slightly.

Tim’s grip on your jaw stayed iron-still, holding you in place while he watched your face closely, seeing every detail of your flushed cheeks and drooping eyes and your steadily relaxing muscles.

“That’s it,” he muttered, soothing, almost. “One more. Big one.”

You whimpered softly around the cigarette, head spinning badly now, but you did it anyway. You pulled long and deep until your lungs were burning and the dizziness crashed over you like a wave. The nicotine buzz was overwhelming and sharp and heady, and making everything feel floaty and too warm.

Tim finally pulled the cigarette from between your lips.

You immediately exhaled hard, right into his face—a thick cloud of smoke rushing out as you tried to empty your burning lungs. The motion triggered a coughing fit. Your eyes watered, your vision became blurry, and you felt completely dizzy and messy, probably looking a little disheveled.

But Tim kept his hand firmly on your jaw, holding your face in place. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched you struggle, not out of malice but he was clearly satisfied now.

Your head was still swimming badly. You tried to steady yourself, taking shaky, deep breaths of the thick, smoggy air in the tiny closet. The nicotine buzz was intense, making everything feel too floaty and too warm and too out of your body.

“Tim… I feel really dizzy,” you managed, a little breathless.

You heard him chuckle, “I know.”

His thumb slowly dragged across your bottom lip, wiping away the spit that had gathered there from coughing and your heavy breathing. His eyes followed the motion.

Then, without warning, he brought the cigarette back to his own mouth, took one long, final drag, and dropped it to the floor. He crushed it under his boot right next to the first one.

Before you could even catch your breath, Tim leaned down and kissed you.

He grabbed both sides of your face with his rough hands, holding you firmly as he brought your faces together. Your hands shot up and pressed against his chest, bracing yourself against the embarrassment that was breaking through your mental haze. This was ridiculous. It was some weird, controlling kink thing… but your brain wasn’t working well enough to care.

All you could focus on was how warm his hands felt against your cheeks and how good his mouth felt on yours.

Then his tongue pushed past your lips, and he breathed the smoke from his lungs into your mouth.

The sudden rush made your head spin all over again. You let out a muffled groan and gripped the front of his jacket tighter, your fingers twisting into the thick fabric. Tim responded by dropping his hands to your waist and yanking your body flush against his.

Oh.

He was hard. You could feel him clearly through his jeans, pressed against your lower stomach. For a split second, nervousness flared in your chest.

Should you be nervous? Probably.

But the thought dissolved almost as quickly as it came.

Fuck it.

You kissed him back harder, desperate to feel something solid amongst all of your dizziness. Tim groaned in his throat and tilted your head, kissing you like he was starving for it, like this was all he’d ever wanted.

It became too much.

The smoke, the nicotine, the heat of his body—you couldn’t breathe. You pushed against his chest with both hands. Tim pulled back just enough for you both to gasp for air.

Thick smoke wafted out of both of your mouths, curling between your faces and up into the muggy air. You noted how Tim’s face looked, how the smoke parted around his jaw and up above the dark hair in his head. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. His hands stayed locked on your waist, but his chest rose and fell rhythmically under your palms.

It was getting hard to tell if Tim had always looked this good, or if the overwhelming amount of nicotine in your bloodstream was making your brain go numb.

But after a minute of panting, you felt your senses returning—most notably, the loud pulse of the music from the living room vibrating through the walls and into your shaky bones. You slowly started regaining your steadiness, the dizzy fog beginning to lift. Tim slid a flat palm up your back.

“Deep breaths,” he hums.

You obeyed without thinking, too deep in whatever headspace he’d pushed you into to pretend it didn’t feel ridiculously good. Each inhale felt almost euphoric, your chest rising and falling as you breathed in the thick, smoky air. You gripped the shoulders of his jacket, and after a moment you noticed he was breathing in time with you, drinking down fresh air as you did.

You glanced up at his face. The usual stern mask he wears had fallen into something lazier, almost hazy. He looked a little lost just staring at you with his half-lidded eyes.

When you blinked long enough to reset your vision, you met his eyes again, and he began to lean in toward your lips, his eyes dropping to your mouth in time with his movement. You let him come to you, tilting your chin up to meet him—

His watch started beeping sharply under his sleeve, knocking the moment right off kilter.

You both jerked back, staring at each other like you’d completely forgotten why you were even in the closet in the first place. Whatever obnoxious spell you both were under vanished. From outside, the music in the living room suddenly cut off. You could hear laughter and the sound of people scrambling down the hallway toward you.

Tim stepped back, putting space between you again. He adjusted his jeans, and tried his best to smooth his jacket out. By the time the door flew open, you were both standing roughly where you started with your backs against opposite walls, trying (and failing) to look casual.

The closet door swung open and you were immediately hit with fresh air and very nosy faces.

Toby’s was the only one you registered, though. The thick cloud of smoke rolled out past them into the hallway. He wrinkled his nose dramatically, grimacing at you two.

“J-Jesus, man,” he laughed. “You’re really smm-smoking in h-here? In a fucking clo-closet?”

Tim just blew air through his nose, clearly unimpressed. He shoved Toby’s head to the side and stepped out, brushing past the group without another word. He didn’t even glance back at you before heading down the hall.

You tried to follow, but Toby’s eyes locked onto you and he let out a shrill laugh.

“Ho-ly shit. You don’t loo-look too hah-hot right now.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, brushing past him as he started firing off questions.

“What’d h-he do? D-Did he make yo-you cry? Why do you smell like an ahh-ashtray? Wait—did you guys actually do an-anything or—”

You ignored him and made a beeline for the kitchen, desperate for something cold to drink. Your head was still swimmy and light, the nicotine making everything feel slightly tilted as you stumbled through the still-trashed house.

You passed Tim on the way. He had already found his usual spot right next to Brian, the two of them leaning against the wall like they were physically incapable of being more than three feet apart for more than ten minutes. Tim’s eyes flicked to you as you walked by, but he didn’t say anything. Brian, however, didn’t take his eyes off of you as you passed, gathering all the information he needed just from the state of you.

You yanked open the fridge, grabbed the first beer you saw, and popped it open. You drank nearly half of it in one go, the cold yeasty liquid soothing your raw throat and helping ground you a little.

Unfortunately, you weren’t alone for long.

Toby wandered in after you, Natalie right beside him and EJ trailing quietly behind them. The three of them formed a little triangle, watching you like a very nosy, very abrasive little troupe of bastards.

Most of the party in the living room had devolved into loud chugging contests and some money-gambling version of Go Fish that involved way too many rules and even more yelling. You were grateful almost everyone else was too distracted to notice how obviously rattled you were—except for these dipshits.

Toby leaned on the island counter, grinning wide enough to make your blood boil a bit. “So… you guh-gonna tell us what hah-happened in there or do w-we have to guess?”

Natalie tilted her head. “You look like you just got punched in the face… but, like, not in a bad way.”

You opened your mouth, ready to snap something mean and defensive, but before you could get it out, Brian walked into the kitchen.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he waved a hand at the trio. “Move along. Go have your little orgy somewhere else and leave people alone.”

Jack let out a raspy little laugh, which was rare enough that it surprised you into laughing too. Toby whined dramatically but let Natalie tug him away. The three of them shuffled out, Toby still throwing questions over his shoulder until they disappeared back toward the living room and out of your field of vision.

Once they were gone, Brian opened the fridge, rummaged through the junk and pulled out a beer for himself, then popped the tab. He leaned against the counter across from you and took a sip as he studied your face, which you were trying very hard to make seem normal.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, sipping at your beer if only to give your hands something to do. “Yeah… just a little… shaken up.”

Brian gave an understanding nod. “Tim can be a little intense sometimes. He’s either completely honed in or not interested at all. Sometimes he forgets that not everybody is like that, too.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, but if there was anyone you could talk to about this, it was Brian. He knew Tim better than anyone.

You tapped the cold glass of the bottle in your hands for a second, then asked, “Do you think he only did it because he was pissed about Jeff?”

Brian shook his head immediately.

“Nah. Tim doesn’t work like that. Jeff’s just an annoying, loud mouth kid to him. He doesn’t lose his head over shit like that.”

You stared down at your beer, chewing on your lip. “Then… why?”

Brian took another sip, then jerked his chin toward the back door.

“He’s out on the porch right now. And—he’s not smoking.” Brian raised his eyebrows. “When Tim’s not smoking, it means he’s thinking. Thinking real hard.”

He pushed off the counter, nodding toward the fridge.

“Go take him a beer. That’ll ease him up.”

You watched Brian disappear back into the living room, then immediately pressed the cold beer bottle against your forehead and closed your eyes. The chill helped a little, but your stomach was still doing nervous flips. Not scared-of-Tim flips. Just stupid, schoolgirl-crush, heart-in-your-throat flips. Barf. It was embarrassing as hell.

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself.

You popped open the fridge again, grabbed the last beer, and started heading for the back porch. 

But the second you reached the kitchen doorway, you froze.

Jeff was standing there, leaning against the frame, and blocking your path. He didn’t say a word. Just stared at you. And it was so… unreadable. His eyes flicked over your face, your slightly messy hair, the flush still lingering on your cheeks.

You stared right back.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. For a moment it felt like neither of you would move, but for as much ruckus as Jeff had caused tonight, you were more-than-willing to be rid of him right now. You had bigger things on your plate. 

You squared your shoulders and shoved past him, knocking his arm out of the way with your shoulder.

He didn’t try to stop you.

You moved quickly through the hallway, the noise of the party fading behind you as you pushed through the back door and stepped out onto the wrap-around back porch.

The night air was cooler out here compared to the thick mug of coffee alcohol and smoke inside, trading the damp smells for fresh pines and wet dirt. Most of the party had moved or stayed inside, so the porch was vacant for the most part. But at the far end, where the railing curved into shadows and no one could see if they didn’t come outside, stood Tim.

He was leaning forward on the railing, staring out into the dark tree line like he was looking for something. He didn’t turn when he heard the door open. He didn’t glance over as your shoes creaked across the wooden planks. But you knew that he knew it was you.

You walked up and stopped beside him, setting the unopened beer on the railing near his hand, little beads of condensation dripping onto the wood.

For a few seconds, there was only the sound of crickets and the low hum from inside. You looked out into the treeline too, seeing how the dark shadows gave way to a black void beyond where the porch lights could reach. There were so many creatures and monsters out there, but none of them even came close to shaking your nerves like the man standing right next to you.

“Hey.”

Tim finally turned his head, his eyes sliding over to meet yours. 

Tim’s stare had always been like iron, so sharp and guarded and prickling with intensity that kept almost everyone at arm’s length. But right now it looked… weary? Tired in a way that seemed deeper than just the late hour and the shitty beer. 

Then his gaze dropped to the bottle in your hand. 

“What’s this?”

“Peace offering,” you said, pushing it toward him a little further. “You looked like you could use one.”

Tim looked at you again, then at the bottle, before taking it. He twisted the cap off and took a long pull. Almost immediately his face twisted and he huffed through his nose.

“Jesus Christ, that’s awful.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you took another drink from your own. For a while, the two of you just leaned against the railing side by side, listening to the crickets and the distant rustle of the woods. The party noises inside felt miles away.

Eventually Tim huffed again, almost like he was annoyed with himself.

“I’m sorry for overstepping in there,” he said quietly. “I got lost in the theatrics of it all.”

You shook your head. “I would’ve told you to stop if I didn’t like it.”

…

You both caught it at the same time—the admission, the way it lingered. Your eyes met again.

Tim turned his head fully toward you, that weary look sharpening into something more focused.

“Did you like it?” he asked, and it’s like the words turned to static as they reached your ears.

You looked down at your shoes for a minute.

It had thrown you off, sure. The tightness of the space, the weird dynamic between you two, even the sheer amount of embarrassment from having to play this game at all made your brain feel like mush. But you couldn’t deny it.

It felt good.

The dizziness. The way your head went fuzzy and floaty. The way he took control of you completely and didn’t let you hide from it. The way every thought in your brain is stamped out the moment oxygen is absent from you.

Yeah… it felt good. A lot better than you were ever going to admit.

You took a big drink to buy yourself time for something witty to say, only to realize you’d already finished the entire bottle and there were only droplets left. You sighed and met his stare again.

“It’s a weird question,” you grimaced with an awkward little laugh.

Tim didn’t laugh with you.

He pushed off of the railing and stepped closer, close enough that you were suddenly the same distance apart as you’d been in that stupid closet. And who would’ve thought, but the fresh air out here suddenly became thicker in your lungs too.

His free hand lifted slowly. You watched it rise, your heart kicking off its rapid thumps like shoes in a washing machine once again. His fingers brushed the side of your neck first, and he was sure to feel the goosebumps that were rising there, before they slid from their position to lace around either side of your throat. His palm rested just under your chin.

You stalled completely. Went stock-still.

Heat flooded your face so fast you were sure you looked ridiculous. That familiar, stupid nervousness rushed back over you like a wave, making your breath catch and the tips of your fingers feel numb.

“Do you know your answer now?” he grumbled.

You stared up at him, completely dumbfounded. The words wouldn’t come. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Before you could find your voice, Tim reached down with his free hand and pried the empty beer bottle you’d forgotten about from your fingers. He set it on the railing beside his own, then closed the last bit of distance between you until your noses almost bumped.

His fingers flexed against the sides of your neck, applying the easiest amount of pressure to your airway.

You gasped sharply and your hands flew up on instinct, grabbing his wrist tightly.

“Is this okay?” he murmured.

You didn’t answer right away. The pressure made your breath go shallow, a warm, heavy feeling blooming in your head. It wasn’t painful—just intense. Overwhelming. Your pulse hammered against his palm.

After a second, you gave him a small nod.

That was all he needed.

Tim leaned in and kissed you, his beer-tasting lips sliding to meet yours, while his hand squeezed a little harder around your throat. It pinpointed your senses onto him—onto how labored he was making your breaths, how fuzzy he was making you feel, how warm and mushy and light all at once. 

You whimpered against his mouth, the sound embarrassingly whiny and needy as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your fingers tightened around his wrist, doing little to keep yourself afloat as your knees weakened.

Tim’s other hand slid down and grabbed your hip firmly, fingers digging in as he pulled you tighter against him.

You tilted your head up further, sliding your hands from his wrist all the way up to the collar of his jacket. You tugged at him, yanking his chest flush against yours. Tim grunted, growling into the kiss and pushing his tongue between your lips, invading your senses.

Things started to get muggy really quick.

His hand around your throat tightened just enough to make your airway feel suddenly shallow. Every breath came out smaller, sweeter, turning your little gasps and whines into something embarrassingly needy between kisses. The more you whimpered, the more Tim chuckled warmly against your mouth.

He finally pulled back just enough for you to gasp in a proper breath, but his hand stayed glued around your throat firmly. Spit glistened on your swollen lips. You were the picture of bliss right now with your hazy eyes and flushed cheeks and lightheaded demeanor. Tim studied your face for a second, then shook his head slightly, like he wasn’t satisfied.

“You’re still too coherent,” he grumbled.

His hand left your hip and rose to your mouth. His thumb traced slowly around your wet lips, smearing the spit across them until they shone. Then he pushed his thumb between your parted lips, sliding it over your tongue.

You tasted the salt of his skin and sighed.

He gently bobbed his thumb in and out of your mouth, teasing, his eyes locked on the sight. You wrapped your lips around it instinctively and started licking, swirling your tongue under the pad of his thumb like it wasn’t completely desperate and embarrassing.

The effect on Tim was immediate, though.

“Fuck…” He pressed his thumb deeper for a moment, then pulled it out slowly, dragging it across your bottom lip. His hand around your throat flexed again, applying that perfect amount of pressure that made your head swim even more and your blinking grow more rapid.

“You have no idea what you look like right now.” His hips pressed forward against you, letting you feel exactly how hard he was. “How good you look.”

Tim dipped his thumb back into your mouth, sliding it slowly over your tongue. Without thinking, you started bobbing your head, sucking on it with gently eager pulls.

“Good job,” his voice dripped with approval.

The words hit you like a spark to dry tinder. Your stomach flipped, heat flooding low in your belly.

He pulled his thumb out, dragging it across your bottom lip and leaving your mouth open and wet. Then he latched his mouth back into yours, kissing you deeply while his hand squeezed tighter.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound snagged as your air began to dissipate.

The kiss turned heated, your tongues sliding hot and messy, teeth nipping each other's lips, both of you breathing hard through it. Tim growled against you, devouring every little sound you gave him.

He pulled back just enough to speak. “If you wanted this the whole time, you could’ve just asked, sweetheart.”

Then his grip on your throat tightened hard.

Your eyes widened. A sharp, shrill sound escaped you as your airflow suddenly cut off completely. Your hands flew back to his wrist, gripping tight. Your eyes fluttered with tears and rolled slightly as the pressure built fast in your head.

“That’s it,” he kept his voice steady. “Don’t be too loud now, can’t have anybody seeing what a mess you are, now can we?”

In your haze, everything felt overwhelming. The rush of blood making your face burn hot. The tight, rigid tension in your body. The floating sensation in your head. It was turning you on so badly you could barely think, could barely keep tabs on the rest of your body.

So, you gave in.

Your body went a little limp in his hold, trusting him, melting against his chest. Failed little breaths turned into choked, whimpering moans that rumbled against his palm. Your thighs pressed together as heat throbbed between them horribly. Tim groaned in time with your sounds, pressing his hard cock against your hip and grinding away, letting you feel how much this was affecting him too.

“Does it feel good?” his lips brushed your cheek as he kissed you almost tenderly. “You can let go. I’ve got you, doll.”

You were clawing at his wrist now, not to pull him off, but because the pressure in your head kept building at a staggering rate, a bright white heat spreading through your senses, numbing everything else. It felt so fucking good. So freeing. Like every nerve in your body was lit up and floating at the same time.

You felt warm lines of tears roll down your cheeks.

“Awh… poor thing,” he breathed. “Don’t you know anybody could walk around this porch right now and see you? Anyone can see what a… fuck… what a mess you are.”

He stilled up after he said that, like he realized something, like he just had the air punched out of him.

Then he finally let go.

The rush of air back into your lungs hit you like a truck. You coughed violently, your chest doing great swoops as you gasped and choked, desperately trying to pull oxygen back in and getting interrupted by your own coughs. Your legs buckled, but Tim caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you upright against his chest.

He grumbled his support through it, “There you go. Take it easy.”

When you finally felt steady enough, you lifted your head from its position of staring blearily down at your shoes. Your cheeks were wet with tears, and you could still feel the mess of spit on your swollen lips. The embarrassment tries to wash over you, but is ultimately overpowered by the thumping ache in your stomach and head.

Tim tilted your chin up with his thumb, studying your face carefully.

“You alright?” he asked, glancing from one eye to the other, registering how much wider your pupils had become.

You took a shaky second, then nodded. “…Yeah.”

It was silent for a moment, before you both spoke again:

“You satisfi—?”

“Can you do it again?”

Tim groaned. “Fuck.”

He grabbed your arm and tugged you backward along the porch, moving you both around the corner of the house where the wrap-around deck tucked against the wall. It was much more private here—someone would have to step fully outside and round the corner to see you.

The second you were hidden from view, Tim’s hands landed on your shoulders and pushed you down.

Your knees hit the wooden planks without any resistance. The dizziness was back full tilt, so you swayed a little as you settled, fighting the fog in your head to look up at him. Tim towered over you, broad and dark against the night sky, the porch light casting sharp shadows across his burly face.

Jesus Christ, he’s hot as fuck.

He stared down at you for a moment, breathing harder now, his chest rising and falling in big pulses. He brought both hands to either side of your face, cupping your cheeks and curling his fingers under your jaw. His thumbs brushed over your tear-streaked skin, wiping some of it away.

You broke eye contact and looked straight ahead, right at your eye level.

Fuck.

Tim’s bulge was obvious, straining hard against the front of his jeans, the thick outline pulsing slightly with his heartbeat. Your lips parted on a shaky gasp. Even with your vision still a little blurry from the lack of oxygen, it was so evident, you couldn’t look away. Your mouth watered.

You wanted it. Horribly. 

Tim slid one hand to the back of your head, cupping it to keep your limp, oxygen-deprived body from tipping over. Your skin felt prickly all over, your nerves buzzing and firing off in little shivers.

You dragged your gaze back up to his face, swallowing hard.

“I want it,” you whispered, your voice so small you barely even heard it.

Tim’s lips curved into a grin, his eyebrows raising in mock question. The sight of it made your stomach flip.

“Yeah?” he murmured, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You want it so bad… then you’re gonna have to take it for yourself.”

Your eyes dropped back down in front of you, then up to his belt. Your hands felt weak, but you raised them anyway and you worked at his belt buckle, the metal clinking as you pulled the leather through the clasps, fighting to get it open.

Tim didn’t help you. He just stood there, letting you struggle with the button and zipper, punctuating every step of the way with little sighs or grunts of approval.

“That’s it,” he said when you finally got the zipper down. “Go on, then. Show me what you want.”

Tim leaned his shoulders back against the side of the house, the wood creaking under his weight as he rolled his hips forward just slightly, like he was offering himself to you—or asking you to hurry up—you weren’t sure.

He was wearing dark navy boxers, and right at the tip of the very prominent bulge there was a small, damp spot where the fabric clung to him. Heart hammering, you shifted higher on your knees. Your hands were still shaky from the lack of oxygen earlier, but you reached up anyway, curling your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. His skin was warm, almost hot, under your fingertips. You noticed the dark trail of hair starting just below his navel, leading down and disappearing beneath the fabric.

You swallowed hard and tugged his boxers down.

The second you pulled them past his hips, his cock sprang free, so heavy, bobbing once right in front of your face.

Oh my god.

He was big. Not porn-star scumbag long, but thick like the rest of his body, girthy in a way that made your stomach tighten with nervous excitement. The flushed head was already glistening with pre-cum, a shiny bead forming at the slit and threatening to drip right there in front of your lips. He was thickest in the middle, the length curving a bit where a prominent vein snaked the underside, throbbing every few moments. You could see it twitch slightly in time with his pulse. All to lead to a dark, messy patch of hair at his pelvis.

Everything felt hazy. You were a little awestruck and more than a little intimidated.

Tim let out a relieved huff when his cock finally fell free, almost like he’d been holding his breath. You could feel the heat rolling off him, smell the musk of his skin and the air from the night. Your thighs pressed together instinctively as another wave of dizzy heat washed through you.

Tim’s voice groveled from above you, “You gonna just stare at it all night?”

There was a punch of amusement in his tone, but mostly it was strained, like he was trying very hard to stay patient while you knelt before him, wide-eyed and visibly overwhelmed.

His cock gave another twitch right in front of you, another bead of pre-cum forming at the tip.

“I… I’ve never… I mean—”

Tim chuckled. “Use your words.”

You swallowed over the lump in your throat, your cheeks burning hotter. “I’m nervous,” you mumbled. “I’ve never done… this before.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, tilting his head so he was looking down the bridge of his nose at you. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Nobody’s used this mouth before?” he asked, almost disbelieving.

He slid his hand from the back of your head to cup under your chin, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip before tugging it down and parting your lips for him. His brows furrowed as he stared at your open mouth.

You licked your lips nervously. “Will you… be easy?”

Tim let out a chuckle, the sound warm in his chest.

“As much as I can be,” he grinned.

Then both of his hands moved to either side of your head, cupping your jaw and cheeks. You placed your hands over his, clutching his fingers tightly as he guided your head forward. Your heartbeat was so violent in your chest you thought he’d be able to hear it.

“Open up.”

You parted your lips wider, your eyes fixed on his tip as it disappeared under your nose and he eased the head past them. The tip bumped your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum spreading across your mouth. You let out a shaky breath through your nose, squeezing his hands harder.

The thick head of his cock slid over your tongue as he pushed in slowly. You opened your mouth wider on instinct, trying to make room for him. He tasted warm and a little gritty, exactly like how he always smelled naturally. Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to relax your jaw, breathing quickly through your nose.

Tim let out a groan above you, “Fuck… so wet,” his voice tight with restraint.

He angled your head a little more with both hands and pushed forward again. The tip bumped against the roof of your mouth, making you jerk slightly. Tim hissed through his teeth.

“Watch your teeth, sweetheart.”

He adjusted the angle and pushed a little deeper. You felt your lips stretch around him as roughly the first third of his length filled your mouth. It was a lot and heavy on your tongue, stretching your jaw in a way that made your head spin even more.

You ran your tongue slowly along the sensitive underside of the head, licking at the leaking slit.

“Shit—” Tim cursed sharply, his hips twitching forward on their own.

He shifted his weight, steadying himself against the wall, then tugged your head back and forth, bobbing you along the first few inches of his cock. The motion was slow, letting you get used to the size and weight of him.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Just like that. Relax your jaw… good. Suck a little harder when I pull you forward—mmh—yeah, fuck, just like that.”

He guided your head forward and back, daring to pull you a little deeper on his length every time.

“Easy now,” he instructed, stroking your cheek. “Don’t try to take too much yet. Just focus on relaxing—good. Yeah. You’re doing good.”

You could feel his hesitance in how he grabbed you, how he was holding himself stiff to not jar you too roughly. But you asked for this, so he shouldn’t hold back for your sake.

So when he pulled your head back, you scrunched your brows and pushed forward instead, taking more of him into your mouth. Tim groaned, his thumbs pressing harder into your cheeks as you stretched your lips wider around his size. Nearly halfway now.

You coughed around him, your eyes watering as he filled your mouth so completely. The stretch burned pleasantly at the corners of your lips and your jaw ached from the awkward stretch, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let go of his wrists. One hand braced against his pelvis, feeling the tense muscle straining there, while the other wrapped around the thick base of his cock and gave a tentative squeeze.

Tim cursed sharply under his breath, his thumbs digging harder into your cheeks. “There you go,” he grunted.

You leaned in and took him deeper, sucking on the first half of his length as best you could. The hand wrapped around his base made it easier to angle him, letting you slide your lips further down his shaft. You bobbed your head slowly, trying to find a rhythm, your tongue pressing and sliding along the underside as you worked him. 

Tim's hips tried to buck forward before he caught himself.

“Shit… you sure you’ve never done this before?” he breathed, staring down at you. “You’re a fucking natural.”

He slid one hand into your hair, gripping just tight enough to guide you, and started pulling your head back and forth rhythmically. You let him set it, relaxing your jaw as much as you could while your hand continued stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach. Your spit was already coating him, making everything slick and messy, dripping down his shaft as your tongue ran over every inch you could reach.

Tim’s breathing grew ragged, broken up by low grunts and curses every time you sucked harder or swirled your tongue around the sensitive head.

“That’s it… ahh—fuck,” he murmured when you choked a little. “Who would’ve thought you’d be this good.”

He rocked his hips in time with the movement of your head, fucking shallowly into your mouth while his fingers stayed tangled in your hair. The obscene wet sounds coming from your mouth were the only noise rivaling the crickets and bugs in the woods, besides Tim’s heavy breathing and the mumbled jump of music from inside. Please let it be loud enough so nobody can hear, you thought.

You tried to take more of him, pushing forward eagerly, but the thick head of his cock nudged against the entrance of your throat and you immediately choked, coughing hard around him. You had to pull back, gasping with watery eyes.

Frustration burned in your chest. You wanted this—wanted him—so you tried again, forcing yourself deeper. Same result. Your throat closed up, and you gagged, pulling back with a wet, embarrassing sound.

One more try. You opened wider, shoved your face forward, and immediately choked again. Lewd, messy noises spilled from your throat as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Tim’s hands tightened on the sides of your head.

“Easy,” he cooed. “Slow down, doll. You’re pushing too hard.”

He guided you back until just the swollen tip rested on your tongue. You sucked on it obediently, apologetically, swirling your tongue over the leaking slit, tasting the salty pre-cum that kept dribbling out. Tim let out a moan, gritting his teeth as he watched.

You tried again anyway, your jaw aching in protest as you shoved forward, furrowing your brows in concentration. The wet sounds that came out of you were filthy. Tim groaned again, but this time he pulled you off completely, his cock slipping from your lips with a slick pop.

You gasped for air, spit and tears smeared across your chin and cheeks as you recollected your senses. Tim wiped at your face with his thumb, smearing the mess even more as he looked down at you.

“You’re doing perfectly,” he strained. “What’s the matter?”

You swallowed, still catching your breath, staring at his throbbing, spit-slick cock hovering in front of you—which you wanted so desperately.

“I want you to go harder,” you choked over a hoarse voice.

“You’ve barely started. You need to get comfortable first—”

“I don’t care,” you cut in, looking up at him with watery eyes. “I want you to use me. Like how you choked me earlier… I want to feel that. I want you to make me feel that way.”

Tim stalled, staring down at you. His cock gave a big twitch right in front of your face, drooling another thick bead of pre-cum that slowly dripped down the shaft. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the careful, controlled part of him warring with raw want.

Then something in his expression shifted.

He reached down and planted his hand firmly on the crown of your head, his fingers curling tight into your hair. He jerked your head back so you were looking straight up at him. His face was dark now, eyes laden with lust.

“I’ll tell you what to do,” he gripped. “But you listen to me. You fight me and you’ll hurt yourself. Understand?”

You nodded quickly, your heart racing.

Tim gripped the base of his cock with his other hand and pulled your head forward. He tapped the glistening tip against your bottom lip a few times, teasing the spit that gleamed there.

“Open.”

You parted your lips obediently, slipping your tongue out to meet him. He slid the head into your mouth, letting you close your lips around it. Then his hand moved to the back of your head, planting a base there.

“Relax,” he ordered. “Don’t fight it.”

Before you could even nod, he pushed forward, sliding deep in one smooth thrust until the head bumped the back of your mouth and pressed against the entrance of your throat. You gagged instantly, but he pulled back just as fast, only to push in again, setting a relentless rhythm.

“Oh, there we go,” he grumbled through his pleasure. “Good fucking girl. Just let me use this pretty mouth.”

Tim didn’t hold back anymore.

He tightened his grip in your hair and started fucking your mouth with punctuated thrusts, his hips snapping forward to push deeper into the wet heat of your mouth with deep grunts and growls. You grabbed onto his jean-clad thighs for balance, digging your fingers into the rough fabric as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best not to fight the constant intrusion despite how your body wanted to.

Every forward snap of his hips made his belt buckle jingle beside your ear. Lewd gags and choked little noises escaping you with every thrust as the thick head of his cock battered the back of your mouth.

“Fuck…” Tim hissed through gritted teeth, tugging your hair. “That’s it—just take it. Christ, your mouth feels so goddamn good.”

He moaned when you gagged harder around him, his hips stuttering for a second before he pushed in again, a little deeper this time.

“Shit—easy, sweetheart, easy,” he panted, even as he kept thrusting. “I know it’s a lot—mmh—but your choking is so pretty. C’mon, try again.”

You grunted around him with every deep push, spit dripping down your chin as your throat convulsed. Tears slipped freely down your cheeks now, but you didn’t pull away. You held onto his thighs tighter, trying to take deep breaths of air through your nose whenever he pulled back.

Tim cursed under his breath, half at you, half at himself.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this to you… not like this—ah, shit—” He groaned loudly as you swallowed around him. “But you feel too fucking good. This greedy little mouth… sucking me like you were made for it.”

Tim slowed his hips, easing you forward until just the thick middle of his cock rested between your lips. He let you suck him slowly, dragging your wrapped lips from the middle of his shaft all the way up to the swollen, leaking tip.

“Relax,” he sighed. “Don’t fight it. You’re gonna take all of me.”

A sharp jolt of nervousness shot through you like electricity, but it only made the heat between your legs throb harder. You blinked slowly with glassy eyes, and nodded around him.

He cupped the back of your head firmer. “Lean your head back a little… yeah, just like that. Open wider for me, doll. Relax your throat. Let me give you what you want.”

You did as he said, tilting your head back and opening your mouth as wide as you could, sucking gently on the tip while your tongue swirled around it.

Tim started pushing in again. This time he didn’t stop where he had before.

You felt the prominent vein along his shaft slide over your tongue as he fed more of his thick cock into your mouth. Your jaw ached from the stretch, especially when he reached the widest part of him. You coughed around his length as the head pressed firmly against the tight entrance of your throat.

“Easy… easy,” Tim breathed, holding you still. “Just breathe through your nose.”

He abused that spot, shallowly fucking the head of his cock against the beginning of your throat with small, insistent nudges that made you gag and choke wetly around him. Spit dripped down your chin in messy strings.

“Relax your throat,” he grit out. “Let me in. Come on, sweetheart, open up for me. I know you can take it.”

You whimpered around his cock, tears slipping down your cheeks again, but you tried—focusing on his voice, on relaxing your throat even as your body instinctively fought the intrusion, on every buzzing nerve in your head.

He pushed forward again, feeding more of his thick cock past the uncooperative ring of muscle at the back of your throat. The stretch burned, and you choked around him, again and again, but Tim didn’t pull back.

“C’mon,” he growled. “Let it happen.”

You tried. God, you tried. But the deeper he went, the harder it became. It was like he was pushing into your brain. You couldn’t tell if you were more frustrated that you weren’t being choked on his cock, or that him choking you like this wasn’t working.

“Look at me.”

You forced your watery eyes to peel open and up to his. The intensity in his stare was almost too much—you had nowhere else to look. Only his tan skin, dark hair, and everything you never knew you wanted so badly.

“Just focus here,” he muttered. “Keep lookin’ at me.”

He kept pushing, inch by inch, until the widest part of his cock forced its way past that tight ring. Your throat spasmed violently around him. You coughed and gagged, your body jerking and trying to pull away, but Tim held your head firmly in place, refusing to let you pull away.

“Shh. Relax… just relax,” he growled, trying to be soothing even as his own breathing grew ragged. “You’re doin’… so good. Takin’ me so deep. Fuck, I can feel your throat squeezin’ me…”

Finally, with one last slow push, he bottomed out.

Your nose pressed flush against his pelvis, buried in the coarse patch of dark hair. His length throbbed deep down your throat, completely cutting off your air. The fullness was overwhelming to an alarming rate. 

Tim let out a long groan, his hips jerking and settling as he held you there.

“Jesus Christ… all the way. You got every fuckin’ inch.” His voice was hoarse, something you’d never really heard before. “Good. Such a good fucking job for me.”

You were getting lightheaded fast.

The world blurred at the edges, a warm, floaty haze settling over everything. Your throat fluttered and squeezed around the thick length of Tim’s cock, every tiny twitch and throb pulling another noise from him. But underneath the strain, the ache, the burning stretch… you felt nothing but bliss.

He’d bottomed out completely. The heavy head of his cock nestled deep in your throat like it belonged there. It felt like a bell had rung somewhere inside your skull—a deep, resonant thrum. The pressure, the fullness, the way your body fought and then haphazardly surrendered… it was overwhelming in the best way. You couldn’t breathe. You were gagging softly around him, tears streaming down your face, but none of it mattered. It felt too good. Like being choked from the inside out. Like something filthy touching a part of you no one else had ever reached.

Tim’s hand slid tenderly over your wet cheek, his thumb brushing away some of the tears as he looked down at you.

“So pretty,” he rasped. “So warm.”

His hand drifted lower, cupping under your jaw for a moment, petting you almost sweetly. Then it kept going.

You felt his palm settle over the front of your throat.

Your dazed eyes blinked into focus.

Tim’s fingers curled around your neck, squeezing with a good amount of pressure while his cock stayed buried. Your hand flew up and gripped his forearm where you felt it. A muffled whine vibrated around his length as your vision began to tunnel, black creeping in at the edges. Your head felt like it was floating, pulsing with white-hot heat, but the lack of air made everything sharper and softer at the same time. Everything was contradictory.

“Settle down… I’ve got you,” Tim murmured. “Look at you. You’re doing great.”

He kept the pressure steady, not crushing, but firm enough that every shallow, failed attempt at breath turned into a weak, pathetic gag that made your head strain further. Your body trembled. You felt like you were burning alive—every nerve lit up, body aching, head spinning so badly you thought you might actually pass out.

And you didn’t care.

It felt too good. The numbness, the heat, the overwhelming fullness, how Tim was looking down at you like you were the only thing in the world… it was addictive.

Tim’s thumb stroked over the front of your throat, feeling the way his own cock bulged there as he held you pinned.

You gazed up at him through puffy, tear-blurred eyes, barely separating where his face began and the porch lights ended. But what you could see was flushed raw, his stern mask cracked open to leave nothing but visceral need.

He gave one involuntary bump of his hips, nudging just a little deeper, and cursed sharply under his breath.

“Shit… I’m not gonna last like this,” he growled.

Then something shifted in him. Anxious, restless energy took over, and his hands moved to either side of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he carefully dragged his cock back. You felt every thick inch sliding out of your throat—the sudden rush of air, the wet, obscene pull, the way your throat shuttered and clenched around nothing once he was almost all the way out.

You barely had time to breathe before he thrust back in.

Fuck.

The stretch burned as he pushed deep again and bottomed out. Then he did it again. And again.

Tim started fucking your throat in earnest.

He was growly now, almost animalistic with deep, frustrated grunts escaping him with every rough snap of his hips. He’d pull back halfway, just enough for you to feel the head drag across your tongue, before slamming back in, forcing himself past that tight ring and burying his cock to the hilt.

“Fuck—that’s it,” he rasped, voice breaking. “Take it. Just fuckin’ take it all.”

Your jaw had gone completely slack, your lips stretched wide around the base of him as he used your mouth. Every thrust punched a wet, choked gag out of you. Spit poured down your chin in messy strings, dripping onto your chest and the wooden porch below. Your hands stayed clenched tight on his thighs, holding on for dear life while he fucked your throat with growing urgency. Your body fought desperately for air that never came, but your brain couldn’t be more happy.

Tim’s hand slid from your hair to your cheek, his rough palm surprisingly gentle as he brushed away some of the tears still rolling down your skin. Then his thumb slipped into the corner of your mouth, hooking inside and pulling your lips open even wider, exposing your tongue for him buried under the weight of his length.

You blinked slowly and let your head go completely lax in his hold. You wanted him to use you exactly how he needed.

“I’m close,” he rasped, groaning as his thrusts turned sharp and frantic. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum.”

You looked up at him through wet lashes. His usually neat hair had fallen forward, dark strands messy and sticking to his forehead, hanging into his eyes. He looked completely undone.

“Shit—fuck,” Tim cursed sharply.

He pulled his cock out of your throat in one smooth motion. You gasped in wet, raw breaths, your chest heaving as fresh air finally rushed back into your lungs. Before you could even steady yourself, his thumb tugged your bottom lip down, holding your mouth wide open for him.

He pressed the swollen, leaking tip of his cock right against your tongue and started stroking himself in fast, frantic strokes. His body shook with how close he was.

You whined loudly around him, the desperate sound vibrating against his tip as you looked up at him with teary, needy eyes, silently begging the best you could.

That did it.

Tim practically growled when he came.

Thick, hot ropes of cum spilled across your tongue and flooded your open mouth. He kept stroking himself through it, gritting his teeth hard to stay quiet, his shoulders shaking as pulse after heavy pulse poured over your tongue. You moaned, the taste so satisfying and evidence of your hard work.

“Ah, God… swallow it all,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Swallow what I give you.”

Even as he came, he kept his thumb hooked in the bottom of your mouth, holding you open so he could watch every rope land on your tongue. His whole body trembled with the force of it, his hips twitching as the last few weak spurts dribbled onto your lips.

“Christ.”

When the last of his release had spilled across your tongue, you closed your lips around the sensitive head of his cock and gently sucked.

Tim’s hips twitching at the overstimulation. “Mmnh… you’re gonna kill me.”

You pulled off, then swallowed, feeling the warmth of him slide down your throat. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, so salty and warm.

Exhausted, you slumped down, your chest heaving as you dragged in deep, full breaths. Your head was still spinning, and you could feel the mess of yourself, all the spit and tears drying on your face. You lifted a hand to wipe at your chin, but Tim caught your wrist and swatted it away.

“I got it,” he muttered.

He slid down the wall, his back pressed to the wood as he tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans, quickly fixing his belt. Then he leaned forward, using his rough hands to haphazardly clean the mess from your cheeks and chin. When he was satisfied, he wrapped his hand around your arm and tugged you forward to turn your back against the wall too, your shoulders leaned against the other’s. The warmth of his body grounded you amongst all the haze.

For the first time you could hear it over the rush in your head, the party was still kicking inside, random yelling and loud music still evident against the quiet out here now.

“You okay?”

You looked over at Tim, whose face was the picture of exhaustion, mental and physical. You nodded, bumping your shoulder against his playfully.

He watched you for another second, then turned his head to stare out through the porch rails into the dark woods. The crickets kept chirping like nothing had happened.

“I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he muttered. “Not out here.”

You let out a tired laugh, leaning your head back against the wall.

“You’re dumb if you couldn’t tell how badly I wanted it,” you said, your voice a lot more hoarse than it had started. “I’m more disappointed you didn’t pull something like that sooner. You clearly wanted it, too.”

Tim quietly chuckled, a bit of light breaking through that dark stormcloud that always hovered above his head. For a moment the two of you just sat there, catching your breath and relaxing again. Then you both turned at the same time, your eyes meeting together. You leaned in slowly, and he did the same, faces drawing closer until your lips were barely a breath apart—

“Whoops.”

You both snapped your heads toward the voice.

Brian stood a few feet away, looking mildly awkward but mostly amused, three open beers clutched between his fingers. He was trying and failing to hide the smirk on his face.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, tone far too innocent.

Tim let out a long, exhausted sigh and dragged a hand down his face. “C’mon, man.”

Brian stepped closer anyway and handed over two of the beers. Tim took them, passing one straight to you without a word. You accepted it gratefully and took a big, long drink. The cold, bitter liquid felt like heaven on your raw throat.

“Toby had a whole stash under his bed,” Brian explained, leaning against the railing across from you. “Party’s kinda revived itself since you two disappeared. People are doing chugging contests again.”

He took a sip of his own beer, eyes flicking between the two of you with barely-hidden amusement.

“So… had a good time mingling?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tim shot him a flat look. “How much did you hear?”

Brian shrugged, the picture of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just guarding the door like a responsible friend looking out for his pals.”

You nearly choked on your beer. Tim just shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he took a long drink from his own bottle.

The three of you sat there for a moment in surprisingly comfortable silence, the distant chaos of the party drifting through the walls while the cool night air brushed over your heated skin and wore off the strain. Brian’s smirk never quite went away, but he didn’t push it.

Tim’s shoulder, however, stayed pressed right against yours.

Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!

๑ prologue

๑ back to my masterlists

── .✦ rainrot4me2026, all rights reserved. ꩜ .ᐟ

[ripdrhomo]

oops... you shouldn't have hit him

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Liu, your sweet, sweet boyfriend- and the guy who shares his body that slings dick like no one’s business.

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Last thot of the night.

Marathon sex with Sully.

You’ve been dancing around the topic, toeing the line of too intimate for months. It started with him hovering around you even when he didn’t have to- to you staring at his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped down water.

Little touches, a palm on your lower back as he passes by, patting your hip when he moves you out of the way. He smells like Liu, dresses like Liu, looks like Liu- but he isn’t your boyfriend.

So why does he stare at you like he’s already seen you bare?

Sully’s eyes linger as if they already know what’s beneath your clothing, like he knows what you sound like when you fall apart under him. It should scare you, but it doesn’t. The change in his lilt, the slight rasp his voice develops when it’s not Liu in control should bother you, but it doesn’t.

It all comes crashing down on a hot spring day. Almost summer, yet not quite. The AC is broken, and it’s too humid to dress properly. You’re in nothing but a thin tank, with him not bothering to throw on a shirt- lazing around the house in loose pajama pants.

Your already damp sleep shorts keep rolling up, hugging your ass and cunt like a second skin. It was inevitable in hindsight.

Standing in the kitchen, you had bent over to grab something from the dishwasher, and Sully nearly choked. You weren’t wearing underwear, so the worn down fabric wasn’t doing much to cover you.

The fact that you and Liu lived together didn’t help much either. You had one bedroom, that’s it. He couldn’t even jack off against the comfort of pillows.

He was pent up, to put it lightly, and the sight had him scoffing. Though it’s not like you were better off. A sly comment, a hand on his shoulder that stays for a second too long. Sometimes Liu’s gone for a week, sometimes it’s a month. And the scent on his old clothes can only get you so far.

One thing leads to another, and before you know it, Sully’s pumping into your slick cunt raw.

Skin dewy with sweat, he has you against the kitchen table. Shorts yanked to the side as he pounds into you so rough the cutlery jostles. Then it’s the bathroom door, your legs folded over his shoulders.

He’s physically moving you onto his cock, and the frame rattles with every thrust. After that, it’s the couch. Bending you over the arm rest, forcing your face against the cushions while his grip digs into waist. The air is thick with sex and heat- it’s as raunchy as it can get.

He’ll take you against the wall in the hallway, fucking into you from behind as your eyes roll back. Knocking the frames onto the floor when he picks up the pace. On the ground in the living room, ankles by his ears, with you cumming so hard you sob.

Pressed against the upstairs windows, your tits squished to the glass. On the bed, folded in a mating press as his hips drive into you harshly, headboard slamming. Your clothes leave a messy trail all over the home, and there isn’t a single room you haven’t fucked in.

You’re arched over the bathroom sink, his bicep locked around your throat. “Hah- who’s fucking you, huh?—“ He slows to a cruel grind, tugging you back on it. “C’mon, honey. Can’t hear you.” You slur out something barely coherent, but that doesn’t matter.

Taunting, Sully’s snickering in your ear, mocking you for spreading your legs so easily. “You’re such a mess, holy shit. Does he not fuck you good or something?” And “Aw, you miss him? Is that why you’re squeezing on me like this? Poor baby, we can pretend if you want.”

He’ll prop you up on his lap, making you ride just to start thrusting up into you till you collapse. He knows you want him just as much as you want Liu, and that’s exactly why he’s so mean about it.

It gets him off seeing you trip over yourself, humping him like some milk drunk puppy trying to impress its owner. He’ll push his finger past your lips while you bounce yourself on his cock. Hook his thumb into your cheek and sneer at the drool.

“You want it inside? Yeah? Then beg for it, convince me, honey.” While your legs shake and your shoulders bow. “Show me something pretty, show me you fucking deserve it.” When he fills you for the umpteenth time, groaning lowly as he watches your pupils cross.

“You think he’s gonna’ be mad?”

[ripdrhomo]

maybe if he did, he would understand

[spr1nkl3d420]

YOU CAN’T SAY UR FANFIC IS A X READER IF YOU HAVE CHOSEN A NAME, FACE CLAIM AND YOU WRITE DETAILS ON WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE! THATS NOT HOW IT WORKS💔💔💔

[poodledoodle1]

─── .✦

Jack Nyras who will never see the world the same again.

Who's eyes were gouged out by the followers of the Black God — of Chernobog — the deity of all the evil that hides in darkness. The deity that doesn't let His slaves exist in light.

They slit his sternum, cracked his ribs to reveal the epitome of life that was his heart and dug it out, filled the cavities with scorching tar. Filled his hollow eyes. They didn't relent even despite how much he thrashed. How his pleas grew hoarse from how he screamed.

They said it'd be over quick. That there is no point in begging — that it'll all be okay because their God would gift him with something beautiful and new.

And He did.

It's bigger, black — pumps slower to accommodate his monstrous new size. Leads carbon dioxide to fuel his cells instead, he breathes out oxygen.

It's all twisted and wrong. He's become the opposite of what he once was.

Jack used to be sweet. An empathetic medical student, smart and full of life. Now he's a towering, cruel husk of a man with ashen skin and three tongues. Harming those he vowed to save. But he couldn't care less about people's health anymore — not after having gone through the worst kind of torture.

And he doesn't have a choice either. The cult took everything from him. His life, his vision. His normal, human appetite.

At the very least he got to take his revenge. They had no idea that Jack was never meant to be the sacrifice. Instead, they became the first taste of what is damned to be his only form of sustenance.

He's disgusting. A monster.

Which is why he doesn't understand why you just sat there and watched in awe as he devoured the man that followed you into the woods. Ripped him to shreds with his bare hands. A crazy ex, he later found out.

He was going to kill you next. Head tilted, looking at you like a predator at prey as he thumped his black tail against the ground to 'see' you better. Echolocation.

But then you stood from the grass, brushed the dirt from your bruised knees and approached him first. Got on your tiptoes to plant a kiss of gratitude on his cheek.

His filthy, bloodstained cheek.

He couldn't move. Frozen like a beast in headlights trying to figure out if his mind had played a trick on him.

But it didn't. And he had spared you that night.

It's a mystery why you came back on the second. Searching for him as you stumble over dead roots like a baby deer. Carrying a picnic basket with a fresh liver from the local butcher as a gift.

He should've killed you then. Should've killed you all the other nights as well.

But again, he didn't. And he's never been more glad to fight against his instincts.

Jack never thought this new heart was capable of love. Never thought anyone would be capable of loving him either.

But here you both are. In bed on a summer morning. Together. Sleeping with your pinkies interlinked because the heat is too overwhelming to hold each other. Your gentle, rhythmic breaths reveal your face every few seconds. He thinks you've never looked more beautiful.

And he thinks you shouldn't be with someone as revolting as him.

Last night he tried to convince you how he hadn't always been this ugly. That he used to be normal looking, even handsome.

He hoped his words would make you think better of him. But you just shook your head with a delicate smile and pulled him into bed instead instead. Showed him how there was no need to worry about any of that.

Jack Nyras who will never live in a world with light again. And he's okay with it as long as it's filled with you instead.

𑁍ࠬܓ

credits to my fav american freak @habitism for the carbon dioxide hc. actual genius over here

[secretdiarylines]

୨୧ ~ 五条 悟 ── “Mom? What was dad like when he was my age?”

୨୧ ~ 五条 悟 ── Your 16 year old daughter asks about how her father acted during his high school years.

CW: MarriageAU, You both had a kid, Husband!Gojo, Fem!Reader, going down memory lane.

“Mom?” Your daughter called out for you from the living room. You were standing in the kitchen rinsing off a plate. “Yeahhh?” You called back hearing her feet pad against the wooden floor.

You placed the clean plate into the dish rack before turning around. “What’s up, sweetie?” Your eyes drifted from her white hair down to the red digital camera in her hands. “What was dad like when he was my age?”

Her colored eyes stared at you innocently. She was the complete opposite of Satoru when it comes to his actions as a teenager. You couldn’t help but let out a snicker while stepping closer towards your daughter.

“Your dad was many things.” You started leading her back to the living room. “He was annoying, flirty, popular..” you sat down on the soft cushion patting the spot next to you. “He was always getting into trouble, one time he stole Nanami’s phone and had to do laps all day long!”

A bright smile grew on your lips as your looked back at the digital camera. “Where’d you find this, hm?” You scrolled through the photos of your Highschool life. Satoru or you had taken all these photos.

Some were Satoru being chased around, him sleeping on your chest, you sleeping with your mouth wide open, and more which was enough for the nostalgia to flood over body.

“I found it in a box..you guys look like you’re having lots of fun!” Your daughter had a bright smile on her face as she scooted closer. “How did you confess to dad, ma?” Those innocent eyes stared at you once again.

“I never confessed,” you admitted proudly. “Your father was absolutely whipped for me, he would try to flirt with me everyday and he always made it obvious he was in love with me.” You smirked hearing the heavy footsteps of your husband.

“Now that’s a lie!” Satoru exclaimed walking into the room. He plopped down next to you and pouted. “Your mother actually confessed her love to me through a letter— in fact I still have it.” Not even a few seconds of sitting down and he was already getting up to leave.

“I told you he was whipped, sweetie” you smirked pointing to your husband.

“I am not!” Satoru called out as he left the room in search for that letter of yours.

a/n: I’m sorry it’s short guys and I’m have a shat ton of writers slump 💔! Anyways hope you enjoyed this ff I wanna make a dad Gojo series I feel like that’d be fun! That aside, I love yahhhh

xoxo, SECRET

[ripdrhomo]

maybe if he did, he would understand

[sushizushi6]

Kiet.amine on instagram drew EJ as Bonnie and I wanted to too

[n-nicaela]

he's just thinking..