#and then made me beg him over the next month to remember to come back and finish fixing it

[psymachine]

building manager turned the heat off because we had a couple warm (read: low 50s) days, but now it is below freezing again so i get to be very cold inside the apartment that i pay human money to live in

[differenteagletragedy]

It’s just past 1:00 am in a seedy bar in some no-name town, and Simon is well and truly wasted.

When Simon Riley gets drunk, he’s not loud, he doesn’t stumble around or start fights, nothing as boisterous as that. It’s internal, a sort of buzzing that takes over his brain and blocks out all the noise. His restraint, his history, all the cold, strange little parts that he’s made of swim around in the liquor. They drown.

So when you come up to him, some lovely soft little thing that seems to have taken a shine to him tonight, he entertains you.

You’re drunk, too — you’re not falling over yourself either, but as loose as your lips are, there’s no way you’re sober.

“You look like you come from good stock,” you tell him, squeezing his bicep.

He laughs at the idea, knowing exactly what sort of stock he comes from, and you pout, clarifying, “You look strong, I mean. Like you’ve got … I dunno, dominant genes. Like if you had a baby it’d be all tall and big with pretty eyes too.”

If Simon was sober, he’d shut down the conversation. He’d know he doesn’t need some pretty woman touching his arm and talking about what kind of babies he’d have. It’s a bad idea that would only stir up things he’s been trying to push down for too long.

But tonight, he’s not sober. He feels like his blood might be half whiskey now. And he wants to keep talking.

"That what you think, pet?" he asks, his hand moving to grip your hip a little too tightly. "What's a little thing like you thinking about babies so hard for?"

You shrug, give him a little coy grin, and say, “I don’t know. I think I’d be a good mom.”

He pictures it, for just a moment. What you would look like if your hips were a little wider, your bust a little fuller. How it would feel to hold your belly, round and tight with the skin taut, and know that the thing growing within was a part of him. To have worked his way so far inside you that your body and your life would never be the same.

When you take his hand and lead him back to your apartment, he doesn’t fight it.

“I want you to put a baby in me,” you moan in his ear as he presses you to the wall. “Please…”

You trail off, like you’re thinking of something, and he huffs out a laugh and offers, “Simon.”

“Please, Simon,” you sigh, not missing a beat. “Come inside, ok?”

He groans, and a few seconds later, he does just that.

The next morning, he wakes up with a splitting headache back in his own room, alone. He feels like death, but part of him wishes he’d have drunk just a bit more — enough to black out, so that he wouldn’t have to remember you.

The thought of you doesn’t plague him after that night, not exactly, but it lingers. It’s a nagging little itch, not a gaping wound: it doesn’t hurt, but it’s enough to notice.

Some nights, he’ll think back to how good you felt wrapped around him. Others he’ll focus on the way you begged him to leave the condom off, telling him, over and over, that you wanted his baby. Either way, the encounter plays on a loop in his mind for months after it happened. Years, if he’s honest with himself.

Simon doesn’t like to be honest with himself about some things, preferring instead to think of himself as the man he’d like to be — or the man that it’s easiest to be.

But when he finds himself back in your town a few years later and comes across a gangly little girl in the street, all golden curls, long blonde lashes and big brown eyes …

Well, some things are harder to deny.

[lazysoulwriter]

grumpy and irresistible - joel miller. (MDNI)

LOOK AT ME WRITING A SMUT! - trying. hope is gooood. w.c: 1.8k ~ part 2. / moodboard.

---

Running into Joel Miller months ago was both the best and worst thing that ever happened to you. I mean… he helps you, he protects you… but he’s a fucking hottie. A goddamn delicious man. And you can barely get close! He’s so moody, so pissed off about everything. You're in the end of the world, of course… but damn. It’s not easy.

Most of the time, he doesn’t even understand how he ended up letting a girl like you tag along on this survival journey. You’re much younger, and despite being strong and brave, you can be a real pain in the ass. You’re chatty, you make him hug you when it’s too cold (okay, he secretly likes that part), and you stop in the middle of nowhere just to say things like, "Oh, look! A hummingbird!"

A pain. In. The. Ass.

And today was no different. As you walked in search of food, you looked at him intently, thinking about how damn annoying he can be sometimes—or how it’s a total waste for someone that beautiful to be so grumpy all the time.

And then… well, then something crossed your mind.

How long has it been since Joel last had sex?

Like… you haven’t had sex in ages, but you have your ways of relieving yourself. And you doubt he even jerks off. Maybe all this frustration, all this grumpiness, comes from that.

Maybe.

"Joooeel…" you hummed in that way he knew all too well. He just glanced over his shoulder, signaling that he was listening.

"Can I ask you something? I know you’re gonna get mad, but—"

"Then no. I don’t feel like getting even madder." He cut you off, his voice rough, trying to shut you up.

But that never scared you.

"Please! I’m gonna start begging…" you threatened, knowing full well he hated when you begged.

"Just say it!" His tone turned even harsher. "And if I get mad, you’ll go find something to eat by yourself."

"Oh, stop. You would never leave me—" you picked up your pace, walking alongside him now. "So… how long has it been since you had sex?" You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t dying of curiosity. "Or, you know… something like that."

He stopped. Abruptly.

Like you had just punched him in the face.

You blinked up at him, waiting for an answer.

"Why don’t you just mind your own damn business?" he muttered, narrowing his eyes in that way that only made him hotter.

"I’m just asking! If you don’t wanna answer, that’s fine." You shrugged and started walking again. Moments later, you heard his footsteps behind you, along with a deep, frustrated sigh.

"I don’t know, okay?" His voice came after a long silence, just when you were already distracted. "I don’t even remember the last time I touched someone like that. And I have no idea when I last felt something like that."

You just nodded. But now? That was your goal. You were going to fuck this man. No matter what. When? You didn’t know. But you would.

-

You let it go—for now.

But after that day, something shifted. Maybe it was just in your head, maybe not. But you started noticing things. The way Joel’s gaze lingered on you just a little longer when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his hand would rest on your lower back when he guided you through dark hallways or past abandoned cars. The way he sighed—deep, exasperated, but never truly angry—whenever you leaned too close, testing the limits of his patience.

And, most of all, the way he didn’t pull away. Not really.

Not when you brushed your fingers over his forearm while handing him his rifle. Not when you sat next to him by the fire, knees bumping under the weight of exhaustion. Not when you made those little jokes, the ones that pulled a rare, reluctant smirk from him, even if he shook his head afterward like he wished he could take it back.

And then, one night, it happened.

You’d just set up camp inside the shell of an old bookstore, a storm howling outside. The fire crackled between you, throwing soft shadows across his face. You could see every line there, every scar, every tired thing he’d never say out loud. He sat against the wall, boots planted on the ground, legs slightly spread. He looked exhausted. But awake. Watching you.

You sat across from him, hugging your knees, tilting your head.

"What?" he muttered.

"Nothing."

A pause. Then—

"Bullshit," he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

You grinned, slow and lazy. "I was just thinking... if you can’t even remember the last time you touched someone, then maybe you’ve just forgotten how."

That got you a look. A dark, warning glance that made your stomach flip in the best way.

"Don’t start."

"I’m just saying—"

"No."

You pushed up onto your knees, crawling closer, testing the waters.

"Not even a kiss, Joel?" Your voice was softer now, teasing but not cruel. "No wonder you’re always so grumpy."

He tensed, fingers twitching against his knee. "You—"

"You could just let me remind you."

His breath hitched. Just barely.

You sat back on your heels, waiting. Letting him think. Letting him decide.

And then—slowly, cautiously, like he knew he was making a mistake—Joel reached out.

His fingers traced up the curve of your jaw, rough and calloused. You didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, afraid you might break the moment.

And then he kissed you.

It was careful at first, hesitant, like he was relearning something he used to be good at. But when you sighed against his lips, when your fingers found the back of his neck and pulled him closer—Joel groaned, low and deep, and that hesitation snapped like a thread pulled too tight.

His hand slid to your waist, gripping firmly, pulling you into his lap without a second thought. The heat of him seeped into your skin, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin.

And just like that, you knew. You were right. He had gone too long without this. Without you. And you were going to fix that.

The kisses were getting more and more intense and desperate. You couldn't afford to waste time.

In seconds, your blouse was thrown on the floor behind you, exposing your lack of bra and earning a little smile from him that you had never seen before. Desire. He attacked your breasts like no one had ever done before. He massaged one, sucked, licked, and bit the other, while your moans were already too loud for your good. But fuck it. You almost cried when you saw him taking off his shirt on top of you, his strong arms now fully exposed, his chest too delicious to be true.

You pulled him back to your lips, which this time was even more urgent. Soon, you were completely naked and desperate for each other. "Are you sure?" He asked, lining himself up at your entrance. And you were already going crazy. You just wanted to be fucked. "Of course! Just fuck me, please." You begged and watched as his eyes darken even more – if that was possible.

Without any further warning, he pushed inside you. Both of you let out heavy sighs. He was big. Really big. But you were so wet that you didn’t even feel him pushing it all in. He didn’t move for a few seconds, as if he was savoring something he had wanted for so, so long. “I know you’re having a moment. But please, Joel! Move!” You whimpered, holding one of his arms tightly. You didn’t need to say anything else. You could feel every inch of him. Every vein. And how he was pulsing inside you. Your legs wrapped around him, pulling him even deeper, if that was possible. His moans were like music to your ears. Low, heavy. “Fuck, that’s it… That’s it…” You clawed at his back in a delicious way. He lowered himself a little more, just enough to pull one of your nipples between his teeth, taking you over the edge. And making you scream. The sound of the skin hitting each other was almost pornographic, making everything more intense with each moment. He grabbed your leg and brought it up to his shoulder. This new angle took you to an absurd wave of pleasure, Joel caressed you all over. Your whole body. And he stopped under your belly, just to show off and feel his cock there, filling you.

“You’re fucking delicious…” He murmured between breaths. “So fucking hot… I’ve always wanted to fuck that little pussy of yours. Always.” That brought you to your orgasm. Obviously. Joel fucking Miller telling you that? With that voice? Fuck.

Without a warning, you came on his cock, moaning his name and making him delirious. He was euphoric and ready… ready to fill you. “Can I?” He asked, about cumming inside. It’s not the best option, but at that moment it was all you wanted. And you would have it. “Please… Fill me up.” You whimpered again, holding your own breasts, which made him lose it. And in the next second, you felt the hot jets inside your walls. And then… Oh my. His expression. Completely lost in pleasure. He thrust a few more times and pulled out, only to look at your pussy spilling his cum. Totally filthy.

Joel collapsed onto his side beside you, chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. For a long moment, neither of you spoke—just the sound of the fire crackling, the storm still raging outside, and the quiet hum of satisfaction between you.

His arm draped lazily over his stomach, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or keep his distance.

You made the choice for him.

Rolling onto your side, you pressed your face against his shoulder, tracing light, absentminded patterns over his chest. His skin was warm, damp with sweat, and you felt the way his muscles tensed, then relaxed under your touch.

"Jesus," he muttered, voice rough. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

You grinned against his skin. "Nope."

His chuckle was barely there, but it was real. And you liked that. Liked knowing you could pull something soft from him, even now.

After a moment, he exhaled deeply and finally—finally—wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in, letting himself hold you.

"This doesn't change anything," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair.

You just hummed, pressing closer. "Sure, Joel."

You’d let him lie to himself for now. But you both knew the truth. This changed everything.

---

[h0useslut]

chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us ✦︎

requests | masterlist

pairing : spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

w/c : 3,5k

warnings : nsfw! sexual explicit content, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, canon-level ANGST, profiling, crying after sex, daddy issues, spencer is a bit of an asshole

summary : spencer profiles reader to impress the new recruits, but takes it too far. after messy apologies and sharp words, he finally knows how to make it up to the one person he shouldn’t have let go.

a/n : ignoring my responsibilities to focus on spencer reid!

It was supposed to be a simple demonstration. A harmless example of profiling, to impress the new recruits and remind everyone why Quantico produced the best of the best.

More specifically, why boy genius Spencer Reid was always the smartest in the room.

You and Spencer joined the BAU almost at the same time - just a few months apart - and immediately clicked together.

He was awkward, spilling facts about anything and everything. Never in a way that made you feel small. If anything, he went out of his way to include you in conversations, like he remembered what it felt like to be on the outside looking.

In those early months, you were inseparable. Late night cases turned into quiet conversations in hotel hallways. You read next to each other on the jet. He brought you hot chocolate after a case particularly hit too close to home. You laughed. You listened.

But then he was arrested. He was in prison, gone from you in the blink of an eye.

You wrote to him, left voicemails. Checked in with Garcia more than you should. You remember asking more than once if you could see him. You missed him, so much.

You never got an answer from him.

But someone did.

It was Emily, or JJ. Someone close enough to him to get through the walls he built. Someone you trusted, until they came back from a visit and quietly pulled you aside.

It was Luke who’d told you. News travel fast don’t they? You’d said back.

“He said he doesn’t want you to come”

You remembered freezing. Blinking hard as if it was a joke. Luke had tried to soften it, saying that it’s better if you don’t see him like that - reassuring you that it was out of protection or shame. All you heard was that he didn’t want you.

So you stopped asking.

And when he came back? You didn’t run into his arms. You didn’t wait by his desk with coffee and a shaky smile. You gave space.

He called you once or twice throughout the day, till he stopped. Mostly because you ignored him.

It killed you to do it, but the space between you was so wide, so hollow - you could fall into it.

You told yourself you were over it. You could survive working with him 24/7 in the same space? Right? Losing your best friend shouldn’t be that bad. Or pretending that the memory of his voice in your voicemail inbox didn’t still echo sometimes.

But then came the morning when Emily paired you two up for a consult. Something low-stakes. Easy. Just the two of you and a briefing room that felt too quiet.

You could barely look at him. That’s what made him crack.

“Are you ever going to talk to me again?” he asked, trying to sound gentle.

You glanced up from your folder, brows raised as if he didn’t have the right to talk to you like that. “You said you didn’t want me, remember? I’m better off here”

Spencer looked like you’d slapped him. “That’s not-“

“Thats exactly what it was, Spencer” You cut in. “You didn’t want me to see you like that, so you shut me out. You didn’t even give me a chance”

His mouth opened, but you cut him off.

“I begged to see you. I begged, and I hoped and couldn’t sleep at night because I wanted- God, I needed to prove that you were innocent” You snapped. “And you told them that I wasn’t- I wasn’t welcome to see you”

The room went quiet. The only sound was the humming of the fluorescent lights above, sharp and cold - buzzing between you.

You were still clutching the case file like it would crawl out of your hands. If you let go, the floodgates would open.

Spencer stepped closer - approaching you like a wounded child.

“I thought I was protecting you” he whispered.

“Well” You said, breath hitching. “You didn’t”

Whatever words you exchanged that day were minimum. You avoided him like the plague.

But he searched for your eyes like a desperate man, trying to make everything alright. He wished he could change your mind - stop you from resenting him so much. This wasn’t his best friend he left before prison. You were slowly becoming a rival at work.

Fast forward to today - when the tension came to a head. You hadn’t expected him to choose you.

It was supposed to be something light, just to make the newbies get used to what was going on with the BAU.

You watched Spencer step forward, that familiar flicker of nerves in his hands. But he hid it well, launching into facts, psychology and how profiling is a science of empathy, not judgement.

His profiling methods on you were purely ill-mannered.

You blinked at him, your lips curving into the smallest of smiles. He didn’t smile back though.

His eyes flickered over you, scanning. You felt your shoulders tense, your body instinctively retreating.

“She dresses in soft tones. Usually blue or lavender. Non-threatening, comforting. Her jewellery looks inherited, not bought. Subtle, sentimental. She doesn’t like attention, but wants to be noticed”

The recruits chuckled, someone muttering a small “accurate”. You didn’t move.

“She bites her nails. Twitches the single scrunchie in her arm. Not out of nervousness, but out of guilt. Regret, maybe. Or shame”

Your heart almost gave out. The air grew tighter.

“She overcompensates with warmth. With kindness. Because if she keeps giving and not taking, no one will notice how afraid she is to ask for anything back”

You tried to look nonchalant. The faint sound of a few pens scribbling brought you back. Someone whispered “damn”. You felt as if he was stripping you bare - and not the good kind.

Emily motioned for him to stop, muttering a small “Too far.”

But he ignored it. He kept going.

“She has abandonment issues. Abandonment trauma, actually. Parental - maybe paternal. Textbook daddy issues. She’s used to being left behind, so she build bridges she knows people will burn”

Silence. Even the recruits were silent now.

Your breath hitched.

And then he said softer,

“She’s also grieving. Grieving a version of someone she lost a long time ago. Someone who let her down. Someone she let in and tore those walls down.”

It wasn’t a profile anymore. It was a confession.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your chair scraped against the floor as you stood abruptly. “Excuse me”

You walked before anyone could stop you, before anyone put a half pitying half comforting hand on your shoulder and reassured you that it was okay. Because it wasn’t.

And outside, down the hall- behind the safety of the women’s restroom, you cried. Not because he was wrong.

Because he was right.

He used it anyway. Knowing what this meant to you.

He used your bruises to prove a point. That wasn’t the Spencer you remembered.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to get rid of any evidence that his words touched you. As if that would erase what happened. As if that would help you forget the way he looked at you while he did it. Not entirely with cruelty - but with understanding.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Y/N…?” Tara’s voice.

You hesitated, torn between hiding in silence or letting someone in. The door creaked open.

“I’m not here to make you talk” she continued gently. “Just wanted to let you know that what Spencer did out there, it wasn’t okay. You don’t have to pretend it was”

The tears came again, quieter this time - smaller, but somehow heavier. Because even though you were humiliated, you weren’t alone.

“He’s- He’s an asshole” You whimpered out, hand flying to your mouth. “I trusted him w-with these- these things, Tara” You sobbed, gesturing helplessly like it could make her understand the depth of what he’d used against you.

Tara let you cry it out, a warm hand on your shoulder to keep you grounded. She didn’t offer platitudes. She didn’t tell you to breathe or calm down. She just stayed.

Sometimes, that was enough.

When your sobs had died down and softened into quiet sniffles, Tara pulled you in for a hug.

“I thought he knew me” You murmured in her shoulder, voice shaking. “I thought- I thought if anyone did it, it would be him”

She sighed softly, rubbing your back. “He does. He does know you, Y/N. That’s why it hurts”

Eventually, you managed to pull yourself together. You dabbed your eyes with tissue, forced a weak smile when Tara squeezed your shoulder again, and promised her you were okay. Or at least, that you would be.

Back at your apartment, the air felt cold. Maybe it was just you. Or maybe it was the silence, pressing down on your chest the way Spencer’s words had hours ago. You tossed your bag down, hung your coat on a nearby chair, kicked off your shoes and stood in the middle of the room like you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

You didn’t bother with dinner. The tears had stopped, but the ache hadn’t. You curled up on the couch, a blanket thrown haphazardly over your lap, replaying everything. The sound of Spencer’s voice. The look in his eyes. The way he’d said things only he was supposed to know.

You hated that you still wanted to hear him apologise. Make up for everything that’s been said and done since the minute he was incarcerated.

And then you did. There was a knock on the door. A hesitant knock, as if the person on the other side shouldn’t be here.

It was Spencer. You knew it was him.

The knock came again. Firmer this time.

You hesitated. Maybe if you didn’t move- maybe if you stayed frozen he’d go away. Maybe he already knew you weren’t ready to face this.

But your feet had other plans. They carried you to the door before your brain caught up.

You opened it.

Spencer stood there, soaked from the rain that had just started minutes ago. His hair was a little messy, eyes desperate and uncertain.

“Can I come in?”

You didn’t answer. Just stepped aside and let him in.

He walked in slowly, taking in the space as if it were unfamiliar - like he didn’t know you always kept the small lights instead of the big ones, or that your favourite mug was on the cabinet above the sink, or that you always read cartoon illustrated romance books when you were feeling down. Like he hadn’t once known you like the back of his hand.

He took a tentative step forward, “Y/N…”

“You held me” you said, words slipping out like they’d been waiting all day. “You held me, when I was shaking. When- When I opened up to you about my “paternal issues’” You mimicked him, only this time your voice broke. “You held me and you told me I was safe.”

Spencer froze.

“You remember that?” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “After Gideon left. After everything with my dad. I told you what it felt like. And you- you said I wasn’t broken.”

You laughed, bitter and wet. “And now, you’re standing in front of a classroom, dissecting me like I’m just some example. ‘Textbook daddy issues’ right?”

Tears spilled again. Your chest heaved.

“I would’ve let you say anything.” You paused, noticing how his eyebrows quirked up. “If you were saying it to me. If we were alone”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You started crying in earnest now, breath hitching, and shoulders trembling. Spencer finally moved, not to explain it. Not to fix it.

To hold you just like he did - hoping he could fix this.

Only this time, you weren’t sure this would be fixed.

You didn’t mean to let it happen, not again at least. Maybe it was the way he stepped forward, touching your elbow to gather you in his arms. Nevertheless, your body betrayed you.

“Shh, sweetheart” He whispered, like he’d said it a thousand times before. Like the word never left his mouth during all those times apart.

You shook your head, trying to get away from his grip. “You don’t- You don’t get to call me that”

Before you could push him away, he had already pulled you in his arms.

Not tight, not desperate - just steady.

You let him. You let him put his hand on your head and rub your back soothingly. When your knees buckled, and you almost fell - Spencer caught you. He carried you to the couch, pulling you into his lap.

It wasn’t romantic. Not yet. It wasn’t seductive. But it felt safe.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry” He whispered, pressing kisses to your temple every now and then.

Your hands clutched at his shirt. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t ask you to. He just held you like he did before. Like he still remembered how.

After some time, your tears had slowed down. His hands stayed on your back, tracing soft patterns as you gradually relaxed.

For a moment, you let yourself believe that he was really sorry. That you two could get back from this.

His forehead dropped to yours, barely touching. His breath fanned against your lips, shaky and warm.

What if I just kissed him? you thought to yourself. Against your better judgement, you still felt this- this shift between you.

“Y/N” he whispered, like your name was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You didn’t think. Didn’t move away this time.

Your lips crashed into his, messy, desperate and needy whines coming from you. Your kisses were full of pain, apology and everything else you both hadn’t said.

His hand cupped your face, pulling you closer like a starved man. He tried to make up for all the times he hadn’t held you this close.

And you clung to him like a lifeline. You pulled at his shirt, carded your fingers through his curls- mouth parting against his with a whimper that shattered whatever was left of his resolve.

He had pulled back, just a little- his lips were red, breath heavy and he was looking at you like he could hung up your face in a gallery.

His eyes searched for your own, thumb wiping a few leftover tears on your cheeks.

“You don’t have to forgive me tonight” He whispered. “but I need you to know- how much I’ve missed you”

You kissed him again. Slower this time, more sure. Your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, grounding yourself in the feel of him, in the way his chest rose and fell beneath your palms.

“Let me show you, sweetheart” he murmured. “Please”

You nodded, breath catching in your throat.

He guided you to lie back down gently, your legs parting as you lay on the couch. He placed open mouthed kisses on your jaw, neck - slipping the straps of your dress just a little so he could bite your breasts. He pushed your dress up, hands careful and warm as if you were made of porcelain.

“Spence-“ You whispered, the nickname rolling off your lips like the old times.

Spencer could drown hearing that sound.

“Tell me to stop, honey and I will”

But you didn’t want him to stop. God no.

“Please- Spence”

That was all it took. He kissed you again, slower now - drinking you in, needing to taste your forgiveness on your tongue.

“Lie back for me, baby” He whispered, placing one last kiss on your lips before helping you back down.

Your dress was already bunched around your waist, thighs open and parted for him. His fingers trailed down your legs, touch featherlight as he dipped his hand inside your underwear, finding your clit.

“That’s it” he murmured, his voice nothing but more than a breath against your skin. “Just like that”

You gasped, hips twitching. He looked up - eyes dark but tender. “So sensitive, sweetheart” he said, like he couldn’t believe he was finally doing this. “Been thinking about this for so long”

You choked back a whimper, heart hammering in your chest.

Within seconds, your panties were off and Spencer was now kneeling between your legs, spreading them wide enough so he could press a kiss on your mound.

His mouth met you like he’d done this a hundred times, a soft lick first, then deeper. Harder.

Your back arched off the couch, a moan slipping from your lips as his tongue circled your clit. He groaned softly at the sound, holding your hips down with both hands, mouth relentless and warm.

“You’re so beautiful” He murmured, pressing another kiss to your clit. “I missed you so much, sweetheart. So, so much”

“God- Spence…” You gasped, one hand flying to his hair, the other gripping the cushion.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved with precision, like he knew your body. Like he remembered what made you shake. And when he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right - you nearly came undone.

You were a mess beneath him, trembling, whispering his name between curses and half sobs. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was grief, guilt, years of ache melting into want.

When you came, it hit you hard. Your hips bucked, head thrown back, whispering his name like a broken mantra. He didn’t stop until you were pulling at his hair, whimpering from the overstimulation.

He kissed his way back up your body, hand still cupping you gently, like he was afraid you might break.

“Okay?” He asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded, eyes glassy. “Yes- God- Yes, I need you”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Then he fumbled with his belt, urgency returning to his hands. You helped him, both of you clumsy and breathless as he finally shed the last layer between you.

He lined himself up, looking at you like he wasn’t sure this was real.

“Tell me you still want me” He commanded, lining himself up - looking at you like he wasn’t sure this was real.

“You never- You never gave me the chance to stop”

His breath stuttered. One hand cradled your cheek, the other steadying himself at your hip.

When he slid inside, slow and deep - you both gasped at the feeling. Your eyes fluttered shut, mouth still agape.

He stilled inside you, forehead resting against yours.

“You’re doing so good for me, so good”

He moved then - slow thrusts, deep and aching. Each roll of his hips was apology, every moan from your lips was forgiveness. It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t filthy. It was desperate. Raw. Like coming home after too long away.

You clung to him—legs around his waist, arms around his shoulders, lips at his ear. “I missed you so much,” you breathed.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I missed you too. I never stopped.”

He came with a quiet groan into your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair. He held you afterward, still inside you, hands smoothing over your skin like you were something sacred.

You stayed there for a long time. Silent. Holding onto each other like it meant something.

Because it did.

Afterwards, you were curled up into his chest, legs still trembling. He reached for a blanket, wrapping it around the both of you. Spencer’s lips found your forehead again, and that’s when it happened.

A single tear had rolled down your cheek. Then another.

“Sweetheart…”

You didn’t mean to cry. But after it was over, after all the tension snapped and the two of you were tangled up in each others arms, it came without warning. The tears were silent at first, sliding down your cheeks while you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey sweetheart” he whispered, already cupping your jaw gently. “You’re okay. I got you”

You didn’t know what to say. All you could do was hold him tighter, chest shaking as the weight of everything : the weeks of distance, the pain, the softness of his touch collapsed over you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked, but he was already shaking his head.

“No. No, don’t do that. Don’t apologise,” he murmured, kissing the crown of your head. “You’re safe. You’re so good. You’re perfect. You hear me?”

His hands ran down your back slowly, grounding you. One on your spine, the other cradling your head.

“You did so well for me,” he whispered. “You were incredible.”

You sniffled, curling closer.

“I didn’t think this would… us” you whispered, voice barely there, gesturing to the small space between you.

“I’m the one who burned us down” He said, pressing a wet kiss on your lips.

“It’s not what I meant, angel. I don’t want- I don’t want to lose this with you” He croaked out, his own voice breaking.

You swallowed, fingers curling into his chest like an anchor.

“I don’t wanna do this without you, Spence”

He held you tighter. No promises. Just breath and skin and the quiet hum of two hearts finally beating in time.

[frmisnow]

ㅤ▌ ͟PINK RIBBONS & PRETTY LITTLE LIES! ⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀ ♬᭢ 𝟏.𝟓𝐤 smut . nsfw

SUMMARY in which you wear the set of lingerie that jungkook got you last valentine.. back when everything was going well (aka. before you broke up) ─── and he's reminded of how it felt to be yours and vice versa

jungkook shouldn't be here.

he knows it the second he steps through the threshold, the air too sweet, too warm, too familiar. it clings to his skin like a your perfume used to, drowning him in déjà vu. he’s been inside this apartment before — slept in that bed, kissed against that kitchen counter, fucked on that couch.

but right now? he's just a visitor. hell, a guest. not even a welcomed one, at that.

“you said you needed something?” your voice is a bit lower then usual, cautious, the same way it always is when you don’t know what to do with him.

jungkook blinks, coming back to himself. “yeah,” he says, tugging at his sleeve. “uh. my charger.”

it’s a lie. a shitty one.

your brow lifts, unconvinced clearly a bit amused. “your charger?”

“yeah,” he repeats, stuffing his hands into his pockets doing his best as to not act like he’s not already regretting this. “i think i left it here last time.”

he doesn’t mention that last time was two months ago, right before everything went to shit.

you’re still watching him, lips pressed together like you want to say something, maybe call him out. but then you sigh, defeated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ll check,” you reply simply, before turning towards your bedroom.

and that’s when he sees it.

just a glimpse, a flash of pink — delicate, silky, peeking out from beneath your shirt. a thin little strap sliding against your shoulder, trailing down your back, thin and precise.

valentine’s day. the last one — before everything went to shit.

he still remembers it in vivid, aching detail, the way the night bled into morning, how thd walls shook from how hard he fucked you, the imprint of your nails down his back when he m ade you come for the fourth time. how ruined you sounded, voice hoarse from moaning his name, from begging, from pleading — not that you ever needed to. jungkook would have given you anything.

he did.

i got you something, he’d said, fingers running along your spine as you sat on his lap, bare and so fucking soft. you gotta open it, though.

you had, with a lazy, knowing smile — already looking at him like you knew whatever was inside would be sinful. after all, you knew him so well.

the second you pulled out the pink lace, you’d laughed. "you’re such a perv."

yeah? his teeth had found your shoulder, licking over the fragile skin, before biting into it gently. put it on for me, then.

and fuck, you had. you did.

he’d known you’d look good in it, but nothing could have prepared him for how perfect it was — how the fabric hugged your tits, how the straps stretched over your hips, how the sheer paneling did little to nothing in hiding the way your cunt was already glistening for him.

then, fucked you slow at first, dragging it out, making you whimper, making y ou work for it. made you ride him just so he could watch you — so he could see how your tits bounced in that pretty little thing, so he could slip his hands under the fabric and yank until it nearly tore. he’d wanted to see you in it, wanted to make you come in it, wanted to make sure the next time you put it on, all you’d think about was him.

and now — now you’re wearing it again.

not for him.

something ugly twists in his chest.

“why?” his voice is quieter than he means for it to be. rougher.

you freeze, hand still reaching for the box on the top shelf. “what?”

“why are you wearing it?”

there’s a visable pause, just a second, showing you clearly gave more thought into this, then you pretended.

jungkook steps forward, fingers twitching. “did you wear it for him?”

he doesn’t say the name. doesn’t need to.

your shoulders go stiff, but you don’t turn around. “It’s just lingerie, jungkook.”

his jaw clenches. “it wasn’t just lingerie when I bought it for you.”

a deep inhale, measured. “things change.”

his presence is suffocating behind you. close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his breaths are heavier now. fuck, when did he even manage to get so close? you swallow, slow. "it’s just lingerie," you repeat, but there’s no actual conviction behind it.

“take it off.”

jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, a scoff bordering on a laugh, like he's going fucking insane. which by the way this conversation was going, he probably will. then, he’s closing the distance in one step, inked hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him so your spine meets his chest. he’s warm. solid.

there's something familar and comforting in feeling him.

“you wore this for him?” his palm drags under your shirt, right to tracing over the lace, which was just as silky as he remembered “him?” like it was an insult to him personally.

you swallow. “jungkook—”

“tell me he made you come in it.” his hand moving below your waistline, flattens against your core. you suck in a sharp breath, heat pooling between your thighs. “tell me he fucked you in my lingerie.” his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. his cock is rock hard, pressing into the small of your back.

“did he make you feel good?” he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your neck. “did he make you beg?” another kiss, softer. his fingers press harder. “did he make you cry for it?”

you gasp, hips bucking forward.

“i bet he didn’t,” jungkook murmurs, his fingers slip under the lace, gliding over your slit audibly groaning at how wet you were, “bet he didn’t fuck you like you deserved.”

“bet he didn’t even touch you like this.” he slides a finger inside you, slow, deep. you whimper, "baby, i know he can't."

your head falls back onto his shoulder, a soft string of noise slipping past of your lips while his thumb rubs gentle circles around your clit, “i can love you so much better than he can.”

you breathe his name out, barerly, rocking your hips against his hand. “fuck,” he hisses, sliding another finger inside you. his lips ghost over your neck, pressing a few more kisses onto the skin, his breathing uneven. “need you, baby.”

his fingers move before his mind does, turning your head to his direction as he presses his lips onto yours, effectively lifting you onto the dresser behind you.

jungkook doesn’t realize he’s barerly breathing until you turn to face him, arms folding over your chest, pushing your tits up against the delicate lace. he can’t even be mad anymore. not when you look like this.

“jungkook,” you start, voice quieter than before. maybe even a little guilty. maybe not.

“can love you so much better than he can,” he breathes against your mouth, lips brushing, voice smitten almost as if he was begging. “you know that, right? you know.”

the hesitation in your eyes almost kills him. but then — then you sigh, melting against him, pressing into his chest with a softness that makes something in his stomach twist. your arms loop around his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair, tugging.

“kook,” you whimper, voice barely above a whisper as if it were a secret, only between the both of you. “kiss me.”

while groaning, jungkook drags you up against him, hands gripping at the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs around his waist. kisses you until you’re gasping, until you’re tilting your head back, mouth agape, letting him trail his mouth down the curve of your jaw, your throat, biting down when he reaches your collarbone.

he stumbles toward the bed, nearly toppling both of you over when he lays you down, panting, hands running over your thighs, pushing them apart. his cock aches in his sweats, already damp at the tip, already too hard to be rational.

“you wore this for him?” he asks again, just to watch you squirm. just to see the way your cheeks flush, the way your brows pinch together, that guilty expression that was almost grazing slutty.

“it’s just lingerie,” you whisper, shaky. who were you even fooling? not jungkook, that's for sure.

he snickers, disapprovingly yet there was no real malice, not in his gaze, not in his tone. he licks over the lace first, just to make you whine, pressing the fabric against your soaked cunt with his tongue, groaning at the taste. then, he tugs the panties to the side again, diving in properly, flattening his tongue against you.

your thighs jolt, fingers curling into the sheets, a choked gasp escaping when jungkook drags his tongue up your slit, slow, deliberate, savoring.

“fuck,” he mutters against you, hot breath sending a shiver up your spine. he licks again, rougher this time, pressing in, teasing at your entrance before flicking back up to your clit.

your breath stutters, hips bucking, but his hands are already on you, gripping, holding you down with a bruising force.

“keep still,” he says, voice thick, taunting. you can only whimper, thighs trembling, while jungkook hums in approval, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, slow and deep. your fingers find his hair, tugging, and he groans, pressing his tongue against you harder.

“so fuckin’ sweet,” he breathes, slipping a hand between your legs, thumb rubbing slow circles over your slick folds, spreading your wetness. “bet he’s never had you like this, huh?”

you don’t answer. can’t. not when jungkook slides a finger inside you, then another, stretching you, pressing deep until he finds that spot that has you gasping, back arching. oh sweet sweet past, guess some things really do stay the same.

[jellojelli]

Fontaine Boys: Calling them by their names

Lyney

This guy pretty much made it a thing after you started using pet names that you no longer knew a Lyney, only a baby, sweetie, honey, sugar, etc. So, don't think that pulling this prank will go over his head or that he'll let you off easy for trying to tease him like this. Because Lyney? He will never forget this injustice until he can return that favor tenfold

When you say it, just as he is leaving for work/practice with Lynette, he stalls in the hallway as he tries to process what you just did to him, because surely his sweet, loving, and gorgeous lover would never stop using his pet names without a justifiable reason. This man goes through 4 stages of grief in .2 seconds and basically sprints to the nearest calendar to see the date, anniversary, or birthday he surely must've forgotten

Because, surely, he missed something, right? right?

"Love... did I forget something?" Lyney sounds so different from usual. Almost panicked really.

This can go one of two ways:

If you can keep a straight face and keep calling him Lyney he gets more and more panicked, basically begging at your feet to tell him what he did to deserve such cold, heartless, and diabolical treatment until you give and tell him its a prank

If you can't keep a straight face Lyney can see the devious little smile on your face and pretty much gawks at you in disbelief

either way it ends with him giving you a taste of your own medicine for the rest of the day. Because really, how could you do this to him right before his practice?

So if you can't handle that, don't do that to Lyney because he can be just as teasing and mean about it no matter how much he loves you, and if you keep it up through the whole day too he will continue it into the next day until you stop

or maybe he'll do something about that attitude of yours? ;)

Freminet

Are you a monster?

Genuinely why would you do this to him after all the work it took to get him to accept and also call you petnames?

Fremi thinks the world is ending tbh. He was on his way out to go diving and you just??? dropped this on him?? Are you breaking up with him?? Is he in trouble?? Please tell him it is a prank immediately or he will cry

Just like his brother he rushes to a calendar and checks every box to make sure he didn't miss anything today and for the last month or so just to be sure. And the panic that sets in when he sees that he didn't, now he's really sure you're about to say you don't love him anymore

It doesn't even matter if you can keep a straight face or not because he is in full panic mode and can't think straight enough to see that you're just pulling his leg

This poor boy is taking off his backpack and shoes and either sitting across from you or standing right in front of you with the most pitiful face asking you what's wrong

"My little marintine rose.... y/n honey....what's wrong? Did I... make you angry? Is it the diving? You can come with me, you know I love it when you come with me" Cue the biggest puppy eyes with tears

Please tell him soon that this is just a prank because again, he can and will cry if you keep this up any longer than a few minutes.

Neuvillette

He deadass walks out the door and takes a few minutes outside before he turns around and makes his way back inside calmly. Neuvillette is positive he misheard. His mind is playing tricks, or maybe he's getting old and his hearing is failing him because there is no way you just called him Neuvillette, his full government name, and not Neuvi, baby, honey, love, or something like that

He'd even accept a weird pet name like your fridge or your little hilichurl

The thing about Neuvillette is he knows he didn't forget anything. He will not rush to a calendar or even think to do so because he remembers everything you tell him, even things you say in passing. Like that dress you told him about 2 months ago, or the cute sea otter that you said reminded you of him

"Mon amour.... my love, my life, I think I forgot to tell you that I love you and that I'm leaving" He tries to play it cool, Nevi thinks if he can pretend he forgot to say anything that you'll correct yourself

When you don't, you're pretty sure you can hear thunder rumble in the distance as a storm tries to roll in

Say it's a prank right now or it'll storm for a week straight, he may be a big and tough dragon but he cannot handle this from you

If you crack and smile or start laughing Neuvi is not pleased, he's not pleased regardless when you reveal it's a prank

The storm is rolling in for different reasons now

He won't play the prank back on you but expect some long, displeased stares and some major frowns from him

You almost made his heart beat out of his chest in panic

Wriothesley

Wriothesley almost laughs when you call him by his full name and not at least a Wrio

like there is no way he doesn't know you're being a menace right now

so please be prepared for the entire next week because Wrio is ruthless when it comes to payback and he will get his just desserts

I mean really, Wrio is vicious when it comes to throwing this back in your face

"Oh hey there y/n, buddy, pal, my best friend" for a week straight...

So rude....

He will tell you upfront before he leaves for work when you do this that since he's just some guy you know now that he'll call you his friend from now on

and he will just walk right out the door after that. Not even a glance back or a teasing smirk, just leaves the house and goes to work unbothered for the rest of the day

that's what you think anyway, even though he knows this is a prank he actually is really bothered and talks to Sigwennie about what happened and he's pouting and sulking at work

even the inmates at the fortress can see that their boss is bothered by something

Please say sorry soon and start calling him his cute pet names or he's going to struggle at work and Sigwinne can't deal with this for anymore than a day because Wrio can be insufferable

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Breaking the cycle

Warning ⚠️; Grief, quick mention of child abuse, trauma, angst, past character death, let me be delusional. Spoils for Arcane all seasons.

Pairing: Silco/Male!Reader, Jinx & Male!Reader (Father Figure)

Summary; you were angry and hurt after the death of Silco, your lover and partner, by the hands of your adopted daughter Jinx. So you just walked away, needing time to heal. But how could a father stay away when his daughter needs him?

~~~~~~~~

You never imagined a life without Silco in it. From your time in the mine to now, he has always been there. Either by your side, in your shadow or his name being on someone’s lips. You couldn't recall a time without him except when you were a kid.

He had always gotten your back and you his. You had stopped counting the times you took care of his injuries or how many times Silco stitched you up. You almost lost him, still having nightmares about it even after his death.

You remembered how bloody and raw his face had been. You thought he was done for, but he had lived. Lived and with you had taken care of that ankle biter. Jinx had been a daughter to you the second you were introduced to her as you saw so much of yourself in her. She was a bundle of joy to you.

But now she was the reason of your greatest pain.

As Silco once said “Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?” and the answer was no. No there wasn't. For he had died by the hand of your own daughter.

You remembered screaming at the sight of Silco’s dead body as your heart and soul broke. His skin had been so cold when you cradled him in your arms, rocking and trying to wake up from that nightmare. Jinx had been crying, begging for forgiveness.

But you only felt anger and betrayal toward her. How could she after everything Silco had done and sacrificed for her? She was your only child and in a tantrum, she killed the only person who ever truly loved you.

How could you forgive her?

You had left, needing space away from her. Away from everything so you could heal and accept the reality. Easier said than done. Each morning you wake up cold in an empty bed, in a place filled with silence. Gone is the smell of cigars, makeup and coffee during the morning and it leaves a deeper hole in your heart.

The worst are the dreams and nightmares. The nightmares haunt you with the memories of the past of the mistakes you made. The dream teases you with a reality that isn't yours anymore. Like waking up next to Silco, being able to touch his face once more or kiss him one more time.

Either way, you always wake up crying, breaking more with each passing night.

Before you knew it, months had passed. You kept an ear out, listening to the news. Jinx was still being herself, but the tensions also grew. Even in your hole, you could feel it. It was a question of time before a single act blew everything up and conflict would turn into a bloody mess.

When you came back to your senses, grief still clouding your mind, you felt ashamed. You had turned your back on Jinx when she too was hurt by her own actions. You didn't know what to do, how to approach her and ask for forgiveness.

You wrote letter after letter, throwing away each one of them, disliking them. You couldn't find the right words until you stopped trying. You tried to explain to her how you felt, that you didn't hate her and forgave her just like Silco would have. You asked for her forgiveness for how you just treated her, knowing damn well you didn't deserve it.

After sending it, there was no answer.

Through the great vines, you learn that Jinx had taken a little girl under her arm. A child she had named Isha. Isha, what a sweet name you thought the first time you heard it. Jinx was still the kindhearted girl you remembered her to be and you were glad she had someone by her side even if it was a mute child.

Staying in the shadows, you watched over her. She seemed happy with that little girl, a spark coming back in her eyes. It was clear Jinx saw the kid as her sister, but that child saw her as more than that.

Jinx never noticed you, but Isha did. She came to you a few times and you always gave her a little something. Food, toys and even her own little gun once. Her smile reminded you of Jinx’s when she was little before Vi left. Maybe that was why Jinx kept her around, because Isha was just like her and she knew how to take care of the little girl.

You had wished to take your time coming back into Jinx’s life, but things took a wrong turn and you were forced to act quickly. The battle against Warwick took you by surprise, more than it should have. Why you didn't see it coming, you didn't know, but you showed up.

How couldn't you when your daughter was there, risking her life? But you didn't see her. Didn't see either her hair or heard her voice and you feared you had been too late. That she had died before you could ask for her forgiveness.

Then you heard her scream and just ran.

You saw a little flash of blue as Jinx screamed Isha’s name. The child looked at you as she passed you, running, a gun in her hands. Your blood turned to ice as you immediately knew what she was going to do.

You turned on your heels and followed after her. You were an adult, taller and larger than Isha and, more importantly, slower. But you managed to make your way through the battle and reach her as Isha raised her weapon. You snatched the damn thing from her and threw it in the air. Before it fell back down you took Isha in your arms and booked it.

Your legs and lungs hurt as you ran away, little hands grabbing your clothes. You gasped when the explosion happened, the blow hitting you in the back. You wrapped your arms around the child, trying to shield Isha as much as you could. Your body hit the ground with a loud thud and you felt your shoulder give up, dislocation.

Dust filled your mouth and nose, making you cough and sneeze. But so did Isha.

You opened your eyes, grimacing with pain before looking down. The kid was crying, her little hands rubbing her face. You sighed in relief seeing her unarmed. Unlike you. But you didn't care.

You slowly sat down hearing running footsteps coming towards you. You sat the kid on your lap still making sure she really wasn't hurt. Your shoulder was killing you, but you ignored the pain when Isha smiled at you before hugging you.

- “ISHA!” Jinx’s scream surprised you and you both looked in her direction.

Jinx was running toward you, her long braids bouncing all around the place. Tears rolled down her eyes you saw as she fell onto her knees next to you. You never got the chance to talk, your daughter wrapping her arms around you and Isha before she broke down crying.

You embraced her, letting her melt and snuggle against you. You weren't better as you began to cry as well, asking for her forgiveness. Jinx just nodded, whispering that you had nothing to be sorry about.

You closed your eyes, just wanting to savour the moment, but the next thing you knew darkness actually swallowed you up. You woke up on a comfortable bed, a small ball of heat pressed against your side. Groaning, you looked at what it was only to find Isha sleeping next to you. Her helmet had fallen from her head to the floor, but her hand still grabbed onto you. Little snores left her mouth and you smiled, passing a hand in her hair.

- “You are awake.” Jinx's voice almost scared the shit out of you and you froze, looking to the side.

Your daughter looked tired, like she hadn't slept in days. Maybe it was the case since you didn't know how long you were out. There was sadness and fear in her eyes as her gaze shifted to Isha. The sweet thing was unbothered.

- “Yeah. I guess I am.” You whispered, slowly blinking. “Jinx, sweety I…”

- “Don’t. Don’t say you are sorry. You have no reason to be, I understand. I got your letters I… just never knew what to reply and where to send them.” She cut you off, her fingers pinching the skin around her nails. “Thanks for saving Isha. I… I don't know…”

Tears filled her eyes and you offered her your hand. Jinx took it and you squeezed her delicate hand in your. You knew what she meant as you felt the same. Losing Silco had been painful, the worst pain you ever felt, but the thought of Jinx dying? Of losing your daughter to the cold embrace of death?

Oh, that sort of pain was unbearable. You wouldn't be able to keep living in a world without her.

- “I know princess, I know. That is why I was there, for you. I didn't want to lose you like that, not before asking for your forgiveness. I never should have left. I abandoned you when you needed me the most and I'll never forgive myself.” You said, voice low as to not wake up the kid.

Jinx dried her eyes before almost jumping into the bed. She dropped on your other side, arms around you as she buried her face in your unhurt shoulder. You grimaced a bit, body still sore, but wrapped your arm around her.

- “You are my daughter and you'll aways be. Nothing will change that, Jinx, okay?” You whispered in her hair as she nodded.

- “You scared me. When you lost consciousness I thought you just dropped dead. I thought… I thought I had lost you again.”

Her voice shivered as she fought back her tears. You closed your eyes, kissing her head. You didn't want to think about it. You weren't scare to die, but you also didn't want to leave Jinx alone with a child in her charge.

- “I’m sorry. I never meant to scare you so much.” You said, stroking her hair.

- “That's a lot of sorry…” She whispered and you snorted.

- “Yeah, I have a lot to be sorry about… What about the kid? How’s Isha doing?” You asked, turning your attention toward the sleeping girl.

- “Hadn't left your side ever since we got you here. She helped me take care of your wounds and your shoulder. I don't think she like the sound of dislocated shoulders.”

- “You didn't either at her age.”

She laughed and you smiled.

- “Dad… are you…” She mumbled, unable to fully ask her question but you knew what it was.

- “I am not going anywhere. I came back home, I came back for you and Isha.” You replied and Jinx relaxed against you as if you had taken the weight of the world off her shoulders. “But the kid is still your responsibility. You took her in, you are raising her.”

- “Too young to be a mom!” She whined and you chuckled.

- “Then be a big sister to her. Like I said, I ain't leaving you alone. We will manage. After all, me and Silco raised you well enough. I bet I can do it again.”

Jinx had tensed when you mentioned Silco but quickly relaxed again. She nodded and wrapped her arms tighter around you.

- “Sleep. You need it as much as I do.” You whispered and Jinx denied it.

Yet, it wasn't long until your daughter was fast asleep against you. You looked down at her, admiring the woman she was becoming. You were glad you had managed to save Isha, not liking the idea of her death destroying Jinx. She had lost so much, losing that kid would have been the last straw.

You fell asleep soon as well, wondering if Silco was watching over your little family from the other side. You felt a wave of sadness at the though of Isha never knowing Silco but chased the thought away.

Even if he was dead, you weren’t and you would make sure to share memories of him and Jinx’s childhood with Isha.

You fell asleep with a smile on your lips being finally back home.

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Genius | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x Hotch’s Daughter .・゜✭・.

Summary: You make an unexpected visit to your dad’s workplace after months apart and come across the brilliant nerdy genius who you’ve secretly admired for years.

A/N: Hii! It’s me again :p please let me know your thots on this! <3 it’ll be greatly appreciated xoxo

BYR (b4 u Reid): takes place in the earlier seasons, shy spencer, strict Hotch, and outgoing daughter | none <- [warnings]

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped out onto the floor of the BAU for the first time in years

The place had looked the exact same from when you were 18 years old visiting for the last time

You looked around and seen agents hunched over desks, conversations flowing, files scattered across every surface. It smelled the same too, coffee and ink.

You had went over to meet your dad for lunch not meaning to grab the attention of your fathers co-workers until

“No way!” A sharp squeal echoed through the floor grabbing your attention right away

You barely had time to register who it was before you were wrapped in a tight hug and the familiarity came rushing back to you “Penelope.” You giggled hugging her back

The lady standing in front of you dressed in her extravagant outfit and glittery earrings pulled away beaming at you “you didn’t tell me you were coming! I demand updates! How’s college? How’s life? How’s everything?” She questioned

Before you could give her an answer to one of her many, many questions you heard a whistle and it was no other than Derek Morgan

“Look who’s all grown up.” He said as he made his way towards you “Hi Morgan.” You smiled

Making their way next was JJ and Rossi both commenting on how long it had been, and how different you look. It was overwhelming but it felt warm, it brought you back to your teenage years wanting to be nowhere else but here

As you scanned the floor your eyes couldn’t help but land on the tall slender figure heading towards your direction

Spencer Reid

For years whenever you visited you always made sure to hang around Spencer. You had been one of the few people who actually enjoyed listening to him talk, asking him questions, encouraging his endless facts. You could’ve listened to him all day if your dad had let you.

With him finally reaching your group you can’t help but realize how much you had missed him

“Hi Spencer” you greet him he blinked like he couldn’t quite believe it was you standing right in front of him

“H-hey!” He smiled “wow, you’ve changed.”

“Yeah college will do that to you, look at you! Your hair and your clothes.” You say as you take him all in he didn’t look to different but it was noticeable

“It’s really good to see you.” He tells you and a warm feeling spread through your chest “you too.”

After catching up with everyone you had learned that your dad was in a meeting so it gave you the opportunity to look around

You had made your way to the briefing room memories flooding in “I remember you always arguing with your father about letting you in on the briefings.”

You turn to see Spencer leaning on the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, a small smile tugged at your lips

“Yeah, I wanted to hear what was going on. I’ll stand by the door trying to listen in without my dad noticing. I’d try to figure out things before you guys did.”

“Did you ever?”

“No. You guys were always too fast.”

He let out a soft laugh and made his way to you

“You’d also beg for me to tell you all the details about the cases.”

“Yeah, and you’d do it.” You look up at him, he shrugged “I’m not one to take away learning opportunities.”

A comfortable silence had fell between you two and for some reason it made you want to confess

“I also remember having the biggest crush on you.” The words had left your mouth. Spencer stiffened beside you “what?”

You grinned, amused at his reaction “Yes, when I was sixteen. It was ridiculous and honestly quite sad. I’d follow you around, ask millions of questions just so you’d keep talking to me.” You cringed remembering how you probably looked like a lost puppy

His face had turned red, and he ran a hand through his hair “wow, I never noticed.”

You laughed “Yeah well I was a little kid and you were older so I wouldn’t expect you to.”

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably “I-I mean I did enjoy talking to you. You always listened.”

Your expression softened “Yeah. I did.”

Spencer’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if he was starting to see you in a new light but before either of you were able to say anything a new voice had cut through the air

“There you are!”

you both turn to see Garcia standing in the doorway, hands on her hips

“You are very hard to track down.” She dramatically said “I have been searching for you, I have new questions that need answers.”

You blinked “Answers?”

She grinned “Yup, love life. Spill.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks

Now it was Spencer who looked amused by your uncomfortableness “hmm I don’t know, I don’t really kiss and tell.” You shyly said

Spencer snorted “what? How's your love life genius?” you question “This isn't about me.”

You turned to Garcia “I guess in some ways I am my father's daughter, I let work and other things consume me. So there's nothing in that department.”

“No no no, you're young. That is a crime, an absolute crime” she sighed “Have fun with all the boys! Experiment! This is the time to do it!”

Your eyes widen “Garcia, are you interrogating my daughter?” you hear a stern sharp voice ask, and you all three turn to see Aaron Hotchner

“Who? Me? No, never.” She innocently says but your father just stared at her “okay maybe a little.”

He rubbed his temples and sighed “Go do some work Garcia.”

She pouted “Fine, but I’m not done with this conversation!” She warned as she walked out the room

You shook your head, still blushing “Well she hasn’t changed.”

Your father gave you a suspicious look but didn’t say anything instead he glanced at Spencer and than back to you “Come on. Lunch. Now”

You nodded and waved bye to Spencer before exiting the room

After lunch, with your father, you fully intended to go back home but of course, Garcia somehow convinced you that you needed to see the new upgrades to the system and of course more catching up

“My dad’s going to kill me.” You say as you enter the floor “ah no he won’t, he loves you too much.”

“Oh, you’re back.” Spencer says as you guys crossed paths “yeah. Garcia insisted.”

“Sounds about right.”

You seen Files in Spencer’s hand and couldn’t help but ask “What are you working on?”

“A geographical profile, we’re looking at a series of break-ins that might be connected to a larger network of organized crime.” He says as he adjusted the glasses on his face

“So just a light afternoon then?” He smirked and nodded “yeah, something like that.”

“Okay Reid. She’s mine, you had her earlier.” Garcia interrupted the two of you, Spencer opened his mouth but before he could say anything a deep voice spoke first “Are you bothering Reid?” Your father asks you

Your heart slightly stopped as you turn to see your father, his arms crossed and expression unreadable

“Uh no, sir.” Reid said

“Dad.” You groaned embarrassed

He rose an eyebrow “I thought you were heading home.”

“I invited her back, sorry.” Garcia says “of course you did.” You dad sighed

There was a pause, and you could feel your dads gaze shifting between you and Spencer, analyzing, assessing whatever it was that profiler dads did

“In my office now.” He said as he stared sternly at you you nodded and followed right behind him

You crossed your arms and sat on the chair in your dad’s office, he closed the door and sat right across from you “Are you going to lecture me?” You ask

“Should I be?”

You rolled your eyes “Come on.”

He exhaled, leaning back “You need to leave Spencer Reid alone.”

“What?”

“He’s different, and if you're just going-”

“Going to what? Who do you think I am?” you ask getting offended “I’m just saying. I work with him, and you're my daughter. Don't put me in a position where I have to worry about the both of you.”

You shook your head “Its fine. He doesn't think of me like that anyway…”

“I should've known. The way you followed that kid around all the time.”

You look down getting embarrassed “Okay, can I leave now? This is not what I want to talk to you about.”

He gestured towards the door and with that, you quickly escaped his office and made it a few feet away before running into Spencer

“In a hurry?” He smiled “uh kinda, my dad wants me to stop bothering you.”

“You don’t bother me, you never did.” He assured you “thanks.” You smiled

“Hey, um I was thinking. How about we go out for coffee before you leave back for school.” He suggests your heart almost stopped “oh yeah! I’m free anytime just let me know.”

He smiled “alright, I will.”

“Bye Spencer.”

“Bye.”

And with that you both go your separate ways both excited about your next hang out. . .

not proof-read! lmk if I should make a part two :)

Don't forget to check out my other fics:D

[lunajay33]

Searching for You

•🪽🧺🧟‍♀️•

Summary: Reader and Daryl have been together since you were teens, you have crazy news for him but then the world falls apart and your searching for him every second

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Pregnant

•Masterlist•

I finished picking up the surprise cake I had specially ordered for the bakery in town for the news I have for Daryl, we live in cabin on the outskirts of town it’s simple but so cozy plus I’m staying with the man I’ve loved since I was in highschool

I got home setting up the surprise, the cake was a round cake with lilac frosting around the edges, with the words baby on board on the top, it was cheesy but the joy I felt trumped that feeling

Soon I heard the rumble of his motorcycle pulling up the drive way and the engine cutting off, my heart pounding slightly nervous of his reaction, sure we’ve been together for years but I knew of his past and how he feared of becoming like his old man

I push those thoughts aside when I hear the door open and his subtle sigh as he flicked his boots off

“Sunshine?” I walk out of the dining room and meet him at the door

“Hi my love, I have a surprise for you” I smile as I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he pulls me close

“Really, more that this cute lil dress ya got on” he smiles making me blush

“Oh stop come on” I take his hand leading him to the table

He read the cake then back at me then down at my belly

“Really?” I nod my head as I wring my fingers anxiously

“Are you mad” he wrapped his hands around my waist down to my little bump

“Ya know I can never be mad at ya……we’re having a baby” he sighs gently

“I know it’s scary but she’s ours”

“She?” He smiled

“Just a feeling, call it mothers intuition”

•

We went to the doctor the next day and found out I was only a month along, we get home and I slump on the couch exhausted

“What me to run out and get ya something for supper?”

“I’m reeeeeeeally craving Chinese”

“Then that’s what ya get sunshine” he smiles giving me a gentle kiss before he was off

I waited for him, when an hour went by then two I started to get nervous it’s a small town I never took more than 20 minutes, I tried his phone but he never answered

I pull on one of his hoodies and my boots, taking the keys to the truck and leave the house, I drive into town and the streets are empty, confused I keep driving until I get to the Main Street where all I see is carnage, people dead and ripped apart blood everywhere, as others are the ones ripping them apart

“What the hell?” I scream when one slams up against the window, I quickly turn around speeding back to the house where it’s still safe hoping Daryl made his way back, I get there running inside screaming for him, begging to any god that he’s here

I run to every room and all I get is silence, what is happening we were just about to start our family, what do I do?

I remember what Daryl and Merle taught me, drilling all the survival skills into my head over the years, I pack a bag full of clothes, weapons around the house Daryl had, food and a note

“Daryl my love, I don’t know if you’ll see this but I’m scared and I don’t know what’s going on, I packed a bag and took the truck I’ll go to the quarry where we went camping I hope you find me, until then”

I suck in a breath trying to hold the tears at bay as I left the home I loved so much hoping in the truck and taking off

•

I finally get to the quarry, and there’s a few people already there, some setting up tents, one man already there with his RV, pretty smart, I get out of the truck nervous hoping they’ll take me in

“Welcome im Dale we’ve had a few people already making themselves at home, are you bite?”

“No i…..I don’t even know what’s going on, I went out to find my husband and I didn’t know where else to go”

“Oh honey it’ll be okay, just relax for now, I have an extra tent if you like to settle in”

“I’d really appreciate that, thank you”

A week goes by and more people have come everytime I pray it Daryl maybe even Merle

I wake up to the sun shining through my tent, a few voices outside already stirring

“Got some fine ass around here” my heart lept, I knew that graphic voice from anywhere, I unzip the tent like a crazy woman and jump out, seeing Daryl and Merle, my knees buckle and I try to keep myself upright as his eyes lock with mine

I run to him until his big strong arms and holding me tight, see the others gather around

“You found me” I cry as he hides his face in my neck

“I found yer note, I’m sorry I took so long” he set me back down holding my face with his hands gently brushing my tears away

“I don’t care you’re here with us now”

“She’s okay?” I nod as I look over at Merle

“Don’t mess this place up Merle, it’s nice here” he scoffed

“Ya don’t get yer panties in a twist”

The group dispersed and I showed Daryl to my tent

“I was so scared D, and I never got my Chinese” I laugh trying to lighten the mood

“Don’t seem like yer gonna be getting that Chinese anytime soon sunshine”

“Well maybe I can get something else Mr.Dixon”

“Maybe ya can Mrs.Dixon”

•

It’s been a crazy month but the camp was coming together as we were becoming a small community, although Daryl and Merle stayed to themselves keeping that hard demeanor

I was helping clean some clothes with the other girls when we started chatting about our old lives

“I still can’t believe that you, the sweetest thing is with that Dixon” Lori said

“Hey he’s just reserved, trust me he treats me like a princess and I love him more every day”

“Well atleast you got someone to get some” Andrea laughs and my face goes beat red

“What you don’t think we here you darling” Jackie giggles as the other join

“Something funny ladies” Ed groans as he comes up behind us

“Nothing ed just swapping war stories” Andrea states as we all fall silent

“Got something to say?”

“How about you shut your mouths and get back to work”

I gather my clothes putting them in my basket and try to leave I can’t risk this getting out of hand with my baby

“Where do you think you’re going” he states as he grips my arm so tight I let out a whimper

“Let me go Ed” I push at him which only made him angry, he raises his hand and punches me across the face making me fall to the ground

That’s when all hell breaks out, everyone screaming trying to hold him back from me, all I do is scream at the top of my lungs

“DARYL!”

In a split second I see him running down the hills path straight to us with Merle on his tail, Merle can be a hard ass but he cared for the both of us in his own twisted way

“What the hell did ya do ta her” Daryl growls as he takes one look at me on the sand and me hold my face and back to Ed, the anger like fire in his eyes and he made his way over and took one swing and he was out cold on the ground

Merle came down to the ground checking my face, noticing the blood and the purple spreading across the left side of my face, sighing as he helped put the clothes back in the basket

Daryl now infront of me gently brushing my hair back to get a look

“How bad is it D?” I choke out a sob the pain still blooming

“Your eye……it’s blood shot, can you see me”

“It’s fine but it hurts so much”

“Come on sunshine let me get ya cleaned up” Merle took the basket following behind us as Daryl led me back up the hill

Getting to our tent I took the basket from Merle giving thanks as I got back in the tent with Daryl as he pulled out the first aid bag, he disinfected the cut and braided my hair to keep it away from my face

“Thanks for coming down like my Prince Charming”

“Always, how’s the baby?”

“She feels fine, he only got one hit before the others held him back

“I….i miss our home D, I miss you coming home and meeting you at the door, I miss you holding me from behind while I cook and bake, I miss holing up in bed during a thunderstorm while we played music faintly” I sigh laying down with my head on his legs as he ran his hand up and down my back

“I know, when ya told me you were pregnant I started thinking about how we’d make her room together, paint it purple like the cake, me and Merle would make her a crib, and then when I couldn’t find ya I felt like my whole world disappeared”

“Maybe this’ll all blow over and we can go home…….im scared Daryl, what if…what if I get bit what about the baby”

“Hey calm down I ain’t ever gonna let anything happen to ya”

•

Part 2

[bahrtofane]

home is where the heart is

Hiccup x run away princess! Reader

in which you’re thousands of miles away from your home you fled. Now calling the edge home after months of tracking the dragon master till you were face to face with a man no older then yourself, with round eyes and a need to figure you out.

But whispers travel fast on the wind, disturbing everything you’ve built for yourself.

Word count - 4.4k+

Watch it - some angst w happy ending dw

Im binge watching race to the edge can u tell

On most days Hiccup barely has the time to think. 

There's so much to do, so much to be done. There's always more waiting for him. Go do his rounds, come back and deal with the endless squabbling that never ends, go out again and add more watch towers, do a lap around the island, patrol the neighboring ones, come back and yell some more till everyone listens, see who actually did what he asked of them, eat dinner and pray they listen to his new list of things to do for the next day. Rinse and repeat. 

And yet at the end of a day, when his bones ache and muscles are sore. Stiff and aching from the hours hunched over toothless, he’s glad he has you. 

He doesn’t know how to properly say it, not yet at least. He’s never been good with words in a way that really matters. Always failing him, never making it past more than a faint breath past his lips as the words fade into the wind. He wishes he could be more like the twins, pushing past any judgment and saying whatever they wish when they wish. But he is not them, and instead he tells you he’s happy that you’ve made the edge a home. 

He remembers the day you came to them. You had come searching for him specifically, begging for the knowledge that no one around you had. Which was funny considering you arrived on your own dragon. A desert wraith. Not many of those around here. 

Rmel is a dragon so unlike any he’s ever seen. Tidal class, yet completely content out of the water. He thrives in the sand. Burying deep into it. Breathing with it. You two complement each other. 

Here you are months later, with your own modest hut on the edge and more knowledge than you could have ever hoped for. And a few scars for your troubles. But it's a good life. 

Unfortunately, your time comes to an end and you have to go back to your home soon. Your real home. Hiccup has forgotten what it’s like around here without you. But it’s not your place to call your own. It's time to pack up and head out. If not for you, for Rmel. 

That's what you will continue to tell yourself. To avoid the trouble of thinking about your actions. 

—--

Hiccup finds you laying on the sand, watching the clouds as they roll in. 

“Hey there stranger.” He calls out, slipping off Toothless is one smooth motion.

You smile, sitting up and patting the sand off you. Rmel is half buried in it. But beach sand can never replace his true habitat. Can't replace what you’ve left behind. 

“Hey Hiccup.” you watch as Rmel comes out of the sand to say hello to Toothless, jumping up and down as they play. 

He takes a seat next to you, sighing softly. “You know, your hut will always be here.” an invitation. Stay please, he wants to say. 

You smile, "I know. But I have been away for too long. It’s not good for him.” It's not my place to stay. 

“I understand.” I don’t, don't go. 

But does he? No, not really. No one here does.

Oh well. 

—--

“Are you sure? You've made your own home here.” Astrid says, handing you a pile of metal as you sort through the store house. 

“What else is there for me to do? Rmel needs the desert, and I miss my home.” a white lie. The words home betray you as you say them, what is your home at this rate. 

“I know but- it’s nice having you around. We all think so.” she tries. And it only tugs at your heart. 

“I have my own duties.” 

“You and Hiccup are the same, you know. Always thinking of the people before yourselves. “ 

You shrug, “it’s the duty my birth has assigned to me.” a well repeated mantra that's been hammered into you for longer than you can remember. If you dare to reap the benefits of your birth, you must answer its calls. You mustn’t ignore your duties. 

How silly considering you ran away from them, only to regret it all on an island thousands of miles away from everything you know. 

You don't tell Astrid this, you tell no one. Instead you finish setting the mental scraps in the corner, old weapons in other. On to the next task. 

Astrid doesn’t say much more. Not thinking too deeply into the words

—-

“Fishlegs!!” A yell comes from above. You crane your neck to watch as Snotlout comes barreling into his hut, screaming as if all hell broke loose. 

You hold back and laugh as you watch Hiccup groan so loudly it wakes Toothless up next to him. He marches up to the hut, yelling obscenities and waving his arms around wildly. 

“What is going on?” Heather muses, back from patrol, sunkissed and watching the spectacle unfold fondly. 

“Oh Hiccup is going to kill Snotlout.” Ruffnut replies, flipping through a modest pile of sheep hide. 

“Thats nice..” she takes her leave, heading to her own hut and waving everyone a collective goodbye.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair farther, trying to make out if Hiccup is punching Snotlout or biting his ear off. Could be either or honestly. You'll miss this. 

—

You get knocked out of the sky during a training drill, Rmel isn't fast enough and you end up in the water. Thankfully close enough to swim to shore. 

“Thank you Rmel! All that training and you can't catch me from the sky!” you yell, fist in the air. 

Hiccup flies down with Rmel by his side. He bites back a smile as you wring your clothes out. Your dragon is indifferent, watching you grumble. 

“Dont even.” you warn.

He laughs anyway, “Im sorry im sorry!” 

You sigh, "I'm going to hide your leg then who will laugh.” 

It only makes him laugh harder as you stomp up to him, waving a finger in his face. “You will be the next in the water just wait.”

The laughs sputter and die in his throat as he looks at you with wide eyes. Watching the water droplets drip from your eye lashes, down to your lips. Where his eyes become fixated on. Unable to look away. 

You turn on your heel to scold your dragon. Ignoring him. 

Hiccup thinks you just might be the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. More than a sunset at Berk, more than when the clouds give way to clear skies. More than anything at all. 

It hits him all at once really, the sinking realization that these really are the last few times he will be able to look at you like that. 

—

“Oh well today is ‘everyone hates Hiccup’ day then!” comes a shout from the armory. 

You turn to investigate, peeking inside and finding a very exasperated Hiccup on his knees digging through piles of weapons. 

“What are you doing?” you close the door behind you. 

“Oh, I'm glad to see you. Do you have any spare iron ore? I would say I'm on my last leg but it fell into the ocean." He points to his stump.

“I do not. But fishless does. Need a hand?” you offer your hand and he gladly takes it. Steadying himself as you wrap his arms around you for better support. Guiding him out of the armory and to his precious iron ore. 

You try not to pay attention too closely to the details. The curl of his fingers where they rest cautiously on your hip. His steady breathing. Just how close your faces are. Why did it have to be Hiccup? Beautiful smart Hiccup. 

You would use your dragon, but you sent Rmel off to play on the beach for the afternoon. Go figure when you really need him huh. 

“Thanks again.” Hiccup mumbles, trying to concentrate and walking with only one foot. 

“No problem.” you hum. 

You get to fishlegs, even if your hands are clammy and face warmer then it was where you entered that storage room. 

Fishlegs only squints but takes Hiccup inside. Well you know what everyone's going to talk about at dinner. 

—--

“Go after her, or watch her fly away.” Heather says, watching Hiccup work on his newest creation. Well its more a hunk of gronkle iron right now but not the point. 

Hiccup can only sigh. “I can’t force anyone to stay here.” Hammering away at his work. 

“Yes, but you also can’t say anything.” Heather tries. 

“Why not. It's easy.” he grunts. “ I can go about my life,” thwap goes the hammer,  Settle down and forget.” the hot sizzle of coal echoes. 

“But will you truly forget? You aren't the most subtle Hiccup. Trust me.” she crosses her arms, raising a brow. 

Hiccup stops to look up at her, brows furrowed. 

Is he really that obvious? 

—-

“I heard you're leaving.” Snotlout says. Watching you get ready for one of your last patrols. 

“Not right now.” you mumble, tightening your girth and checking your buckles. 

“I know.” 

You don't say much more. Putting a few rations of food into a satchel. Scratching Rmell behind the ears for his good behavior. Should be everything. You hoist yourself up on the saddle, watching Snoutlout cross his arms. 

“Listen I know its breaking your heart to part from this much viking manliness-” 

You tsk. 

“But think about sticking around some. You know, it'll be cool.” 

You don't reply. Curling your fingers into the reins and taking flight. You don't look back, if you would you'd see Hiccup peek from around the corner, shaking his head while Snotlout shrugs. 

“I tried!” 

“Really Snotlout because she didn't seem to listen to a single ‘manly viking’ thing you had to say.” 

“You talk to her Hiccup why send me come on.” he storms off, muttering under his breath. 

In hindsight sending in Snotlout probably wasn't the best idea. But he was the only one available. 

Hiccup really does need to talk to you. 

—-

“When do you leave?” is the first thing Hiccup says to you when you're back from patrolling. 

You look around to an empty room “Where is everyone?” 

“Back on Berk. Picking up supplies.” 

“Okay,” you hop off your saddle, “I'm leaving in 2 weeks.” Undoing the girth and sliding the saddle from Rmel who rumbles in happiness. “I know buddy I know. Feels good huh.” you mumble into his neck, resting your head against him. 

“You always take his saddle off?” you're reminded Hiccup is in the same room. You've been trying to avoid him. 

“Of course I do. Don't you think it would be uncomfortable if you had to wear it 24/7?”

“Well yes but what if you need to get in the air fast.” 

“Then I'll ride him with no saddle. You complicate things, you know that Hiccup.”

“So I've been told.” he sighs. “Listen, I'm serious about you staying. We could use the extra dragon, and it looks like you could use a place to call home too.”

“I have a home Hiccup. This isn't my home.” You wave to the space around you. “You aren't my people, you don't speak the same tongue, you don't have the same way of life, I'm not one of you I will never be.”  don't make this harder then it is. 

The words sting, but he presses on. “Nonsense, you're always welcome here you know that.” 

“Listen, I know you need all the dragon ridders you can get around here but my people need me. You're not the only one with a father who leaves big shoes to fill.”

“I didn't know im-”

“I’d prefer if no one knows okay. I have my duties as do you. And mine are to return. Please don't ask me to stay again.” 

“Okay.” he gives in, nodding softly. 

—-

“You and Hiccup huh.” Astrid teases. 

You are both out patrolling. Spending 2 days doing the rounds before going back to the edge. They're using you while they can before you leave it seems. You don't blame them. 

You groan. “No! There's nothing going on.”

“Right right.. Sure.” she hums, nodding along. 

“Oh come on I haven't even been here that long. Besides, aren't you guys like, you know an item.”

She laughs, clutching her stomach while trying not to lose balance off of Stormfly. “No. I kissed him once or twice sure when we were kids but he’s not exactly my type.”

You roll your eyes, clutching onto your reins. “Sure sure.” 

—

“Youre seriously leaving? But we've made so much progress with the book!” Fishlegs says at dinner. 

You try not to let your eye twitch. “Yes. I'm sorry but I have to.” 

“Whose leaving.” Tuffnut says, wiping his head to you. 

“Leaving who?” Ruffnut echoes. 

You groan, putting your hands in your head. “Me. I'm leaving. It's me.”

“It is because she smells like fish. It's okay I'd leave if we didn't ride the same dragon.” Tuffnut nods. 

“Shes leaving because you never stop talking.” His sister rolls her eyes. “You can't go wrong smelling like fish anyway.” 

“No she's leaving because you guys are annoying," Snotlout says.

“No really please reconsider, for the book! It just needs a little more and we can even make a second edition.” Fishlegs tries again. 

“Guys enough.” Astrid tries, but it falls on deaf ears as everyone begins to debate the reason for you leaving. 

“She doesn't have to tell anyone, guys.” Hiccup says, but it gets drowned out by the rising voices. 

“I left but came back, maybe she's doing the same.” Heather shrugs. 

Everyone's voices overlap at once, giving you a migraine. You get up, shoving your chair in harshly, taking your dinner with you and leaving. 

“Geez someone's upset.” 

“Shut up Snotlout.”

—

Hiccup follows you. Of course he does. He comes to your hut, banging on the door and not taking your go aways as an answer. 

“Im not leaving!” he shouts from the door. 

You're crying. You don't know why but you're crying. Tears streaming down your face as you watch the moon rise from your window. 

Why must things become so complicated? Why are you so far from everything you know just for the chance and feeling in control for once in your life? 

You did everything asked of you, and now for just the start of freedom you are forced to pay dearly. 

The shouts and knocking stops, and a part of you wishes he would've tried harder. But you are too hard headed, cold hearted and mean it means for anyone to want to try harder for you. All you care about is chasing a feeling you dreamt up in the corner of your room as a child. Sticking your hands under the sun to feel a warmth that can not be replicated. 

You should leave now, no? 

—--

You manage to get Rmel ready in record time, slipping out the back of your hut and taking flight with blurry vision and a heavy heart. What you don't see is a night furry hot on your tail. 

“Stop! Don't leave now!” Hiccup's voice sounds from behind you. 

You wipe the tears from your face, slowing down till he flies beside you. “What do you want, Hiccup? Just let me leave. “ 

“Come on, I'm sorry for the way they acted, but don't make any rash decisions.” 

“There's nothing more to decide. I'm on my way home. “

“No you're not.” 

You turn to look at him with enough furry to knock him out of the sky. “Dont tell me what to do Hiccup.” 

“Im not trying to!” 

You glare at him, “That's exactly what you're doing.”

“You don't have all your things, your girth isn't tightened. You're slipping right and you haven't noticed. Just- come back so we can get you properly sorted out.” He pleads. 

“I don't care.” 

“Dont do anything you will regret.” he tries. 

You look down, your center of balance is off. Your girth is hanging open, you're missing a lot of equipment honestly. It's not worth running Rmel to the ground to prove a point. You fly in silence for 10 minutes before you stop. 

“Just you.” you mumble. “I don't want anyone else to see me.”

He smiles. “Then no one will. You have my word.”

Silently you follow Hiccup back to the edge, landing back to your hut. 

—-

You work in silence refitting your saddle, tying your knots and double checking everything. Toothless is half asleep while Rmel fights off his own exhaustion. All the patrolling has really given him a run for his money. 

Hiccup is on the other side of him, fitting a satchel to his underbelly. 

You can't leave now, you risk him falling out of the sky. 

“Hiccup, stop. I can't leave now.” you mumble softly. 

He looks up at you so tenderly it's as if you're the moon. Shining his way.  “Okay.” 

So he helps you take everything off. Setting it in the corner and letting Rmel go to bed. “I should take Toothless to bed.” 

“Come back after?”

He perks up.” I will.” 

—-

He comes back as promised. Sitting in your one chair while you sit criss-cross in yours, now in your pjs. 

“What made you change your mind?” he picks at his fingers. 

“Rmel, you. He’s in no shape to fly all the way home. I would be cruel to ask him that.” 

He hums, “You don't owe me an explanation, but why do you need to go back?” 

“I need to go back to get married, Hiccup.”

Silence. 

“It’s my duty to my people. You understand as the son of the chief. Our roles are so much different to everyone around us. And mine is to marry well. To bridge gaps through alliances. I have studied my whole life for this, and I finally feel ready to actually do it.”

You bite back the feeling of a lie. 

You escaped the first engagement, your intention was to stay here. Far away from where anyone could find you. But with news of a brewing war between your home and that of your ex fiance, you are the only hope to end the budding violence. 

You crave freedom more than you can ever express. And you got it with Rmel, but as everything in this life, it costs a price. A hefty one of war. You can not live while your home becomes painted in bloodshed. All because you wanted something more. You wanted to be selfish. 

The neighboring prince is pig-headed, stubborn, with very little interests outside of ruling. But if it means saving your people then so be it. You were promised to him and you ran. Now you answer to war. 

“That's not the real reason is it?” he whispers. 

You look away. “What is it to you?”

“I care about you. You've been here for just about a year you think I'd just let you loose without trying to understand.”

You sigh. “It's complicated.”

“Everything in life is.” he tries, getting up and taking a seat right next to you. Hand on your knee. He’s warm, radiating heat that feels closer to the feeling of sunbathing on a cool fall day. Closer to the one you've been chasing. 

“I’ll tell you about it some time.” you rest a hand on top of his, smiling softly.  “Thank you Hiccup. Really.” you give him a chast kiss on the cheek. And he blooms pink like a tulip in May. 

“Of course. I'll let you sleep.” he slips out of your door and you try to sleep. But your worst fear is coming true. Falling for another while on your way to go home and get married to end a possible war. 

What a life you live. 

—-

You tell Hiccup, you tell him everything. It becomes too much. 

“I have to go back. Too many will die and it will be on my hands.” You confess, huddled in the corner of his room. 

“How do you know it's true?” his face is grim, hand on your shoulder while you pour your heart out. 

“I have an inside man, my cousin who's been keeping in correspondence.”

“And you trust him?” 

“With my life.” 

Hiccup shakes his head, “verify the information before you leave. Any can be a trap. Trust me.”

“How? Go all the way there to see if it's a war and then come back?” your shoulders sag, eyes narrowing. 

“No. We’ll ask Johan. He’s been south.” 

Johan. Oh you know him. Who doesn't. 

—-

“Ah Princ-”

“Oh Johan, so good to see you too!” you interrupt him with a glare. 

He sighs. “Yes, very good to see you, this far north.” 

The other riders and Berkians are busy looking through his ship while you and Hiccup look for answers. 

“Any news from down south?” you ask. 

“Same old same old. Your father is furious at you leaving. But he’s sort of adopted a policy where you don't exist.” he strokes his beard thoughtfully. 

“Thats nice. And the war?” 

He blinks. “War. What war? With the mosquitos sure. But no bloodshed on that side of the sea as far as I know.” 

“Are you absolutely sure Johan?” Hiccup stresses. 

“Master Hiccup, what would I gain by lying? The young woman seeks to stay in Berk, that is her business. I continue my trade through her sea ports nonetheless.” 

—

Hiccup takes you for a ride with him, to clear your mind and give Rmel a break. 

“You know, when I first started flying I had this little cheat sheet for his tail.” he tells you fondly. 

You hum, arms wrapped around him and face pressed into his back. “How many times did you crash?”

“Honestly not that many. could have been way worse but we sorta just I don't know- clicked.”

“I knew Rmel since he was a weee hatchling. He used to play in our garden before he got too big.” you chuckle. 

“Yeah? I wonder what Toothless looked like as a baby.” Toothless whines at the mention of his name, shaking his head. 

“Hmm prolly a small little guy, less spines. Soft.” 

“Sounds about right.” he chuckles softly. 

“Knowing him for that long made it much easier to ride him. I was a friend.”

“Cant say the same for us.” he clicks his tongue.  “I shot him out of the sky.” he mutters. 

“Oh I've heard. Quite the coming of age story.” you tease. 

You feel him laugh, “that it is. What was yours? Coming of age story.”

“This is.”

He brings a hand to cup yours, letting Toothless cruise through the clouds with ease. Bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss. You're only making it worse for yourself. 

—--

“I have to go see for myself.” you tell Hiccup. 

He lets you go. Even though he knows if it is true, you won't come back. He helps you pack up, fingers brushing against yours and you tie your leather together. Buckling pieces and looping knots. 

“Thank you for everything Hiccup. If I don't come back-”

“Dont say that. Have faith.” He stops you before you can finish, holding your hands. 

“Do you?” you look at him, eyes searching his.

“I do.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

You part, looking into his eyes for the last time before you are set for the skies. For a home you fear will never be as you left it. 

—--

As your oasis town comes into view your heart drops in anticipation of the worst, but in the end you were right after all. It isn't the same, it will never be. 

The father you once treasured more than life itself tries to shoot you out of the sky the moment you are seen in the clouds. Standing from his perch on a watch tower commanding legions of the men who were sworn royal to you, now raising their arrows into the sky, right at you. That's okay. 

You manage to make it to your cousin's home. It's empty save for a few scrolls. When you open them your heart drops. 

His handwriting has been copied, word for word letter for letter. They've found out he was speaking to you. There lies a single note on the wall, marked with the nickname he used for you growing up. 

To my little princess. If you're reading this it means I too have long left. I will find you, do not fear. But your search for freedom has inspired more than you know. Until next time, little dragon.  

And Johan's words are confirmed. There is no war. It was all to get you back. It’s time to go back to the home you've been building. 

“Youre not my daughter you hear me! You're a pathetic excuse for a princess!” Your father roars, shooting any kind of weapon he can get his hands on. You only smile. Looking down at the people, safe and sound. Going about their days, even if their minds have been filled with hatred for you. It will heal in due time. 

Your brother, the oldest prince will take the throne, your sister will mary, and you will become like a phantom. Only spoken of on occasions that deem it a necessity. But your family has chosen their side. And it is not with you. 

You will never be a princess again. Gone are the days of lavish nights and slow mornings. Your wealth is reduced to nothing more than what you can carry. Once smooth hands now replaced with callused ones from holding reigns for hours on end. 

A completely reimagined version of yourself. One that dares to take what you yearn for.  Something that was almost taken from you. 

You hope the neighboring prince is having a horrible day. 

It's time to head back. After Rmel gets his fill of desert sand of course. 

—

You come back to the edge 4 months after you first left. Lights on and everyone is home for dinner. Perfect. 

A dramatic dismount is in order, diving from the sky and shooting a few shots. Heads peek out and shouting before it dissolves into shouts of joy, of cheers. 

“Miss me?” you don't have a second more to speak before everyone piles onto you for a hug. 

“Oh thank thor.” Hiccup sighs when you manage to break away from the pile. 

You laugh, loud and bright. “No war after all.” you hum. 

He kisses your lips, slotting them against yours as you hold into his arms desperately. You get a few fake gags but you only roll your eyes. It's good to be back. 

[cno-inbminor]

praestigia

NOTE: this is the completed version of the fic, including part 1. some minor edits have been made to part 1, but that's about it. once again, thanks sylus for being my first lads fic! as always, much love to spence for bullying me into finishing this

plot: formally speaking, sylus is a...sponsor. more colloquially, he's your sugar daddy -- and you're starting to wonder if he might actually want more. (wc: ~13.1k)

cw: this is all AU and does not include, like, any game lore (aside from that it's happening in linkon city). afab!reader, also a phd student, toxic behavior [miscommunication], explicit smut [dom/sub dynamics, slight bondage, underwear as a gag, size kink if you squint, fingering, some degradation, possessiveness, squirting, overstimulation, some choking, no protection aside from implied birth control], angst, some fluff, open ending. mdni!

[ao3]

-

The skyline of Linkon City never fails to captivate you, blinking lights of tall, corporate buildings, the specks of light dotted across the sky, the blur of beams weaving through the roads – no matter which angle you look at it from, the view will inevitably take reign over your focus. So much so, that you do not notice the imposing figure approaching you from behind. He can only draw your attention by placing both hands on your shoulders, jumping slightly as you blink and remember where you are. A wave of flashbacks crashes through your mind as you are gently turned towards him, your back facing the window now.

“Perhaps I should find it somewhat offensive that the view never fails to take your attention away,” Sylus remarks, his tone unmasked in his teasing and playfulness. His scarlet eyes peer past your shoulder to see if there was anything interesting or out of the ordinary. “Do I need to start booking rooms without windows?”

“Don’t be silly,” you gently admonish, moving past him to grab a drink of water. His eyes burn the skin on your back, though you are familiar with this gaze. “Thank you for letting me rest here.”

“Do you really think that after all this time, I would leave you to pay for a hotel room yourself? Or to find your own transportation home?”

“It’d be understandable. I can see where you would be coming from if you made those requests.”

“I must say, I am a little wounded, kitten,” he drawls in mock pain. Instead of waiting for you to return and remain close to him, he situates himself on the bed first and leaves ample room for you to lay next to him.

The gesture invokes warmth, exudes comfort, and stands familiar as you climb onto the mattress with ease and memory. Sylus stretches out his arm next to you, and his pose quietly begs for you to cuddle into him.

And so you do. Sylus’s stature and frame, of course, never fails to envelop you during these moments of tranquility. Your chest pressed against his side, a leg crossed over his, your nails drawing patterns over his bathrobe and exposed abdomen – security, strength, and affection, once again, never fails to help you relax.

Because this is what happens after every gala, every fundraiser, every grand opening, every social event that you accompany Sylus to. This routine of being in hotel rooms so high above ground with breathtaking views, burrowing into him, oftentimes burying himself inside you, and separating the next morning with an implicit understanding of exactly where you stand, is what you two had agreed upon all those months ago. And in return, your financial stress disappears into thin air, leaving you to study and engage in hobbies without such a heavy burden on your shoulders.

Despite his constant reassurances that he can clean up whatever mess you may end up making, they do not negate just how tiring and draining these events end up being. Constantly putting on airs, overexposing your practiced smiles, making sure that there is not a single hair out of place, switching to what you like to call “fancy people table etiquette” – Sylus sponsored and, in a way, hired you to be as close to perfect as possible, and so, you must do as such to uphold your end of this business relation. Tonight has been a little more taxing than usual, as somewhere along the way, he felt the need to buy you anything that captured your attention for more than a few seconds. He would bid a ridiculous price that would dissuade any other potential customers, their expressions of defeat when they pass by causing him to secretly gloat that everyone has learned at least one thing about him: he will get what he wants.

You had caught onto this shenanigan after the third item, and you made sure to school your gaze away from the auctioned items. But because he always seems to know what plays in your mind, he complains, “You never let or ask me to buy you things anymore.”

Your eyes had closed shut during your time of reflecting on tonight’s events, and they continue to remain as such. “I have very little closet space. At this point, I think I’ve probably swapped out 90% of my wardrobe because of you. People are starting to get suspicious.”

“Then why not move out and find a bigger apartment? You know I can afford it.”

“Sylus–”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts. If he were anyone else, you would have scowled at him. “It would be too far from campus, become inconvenient, and you feel it is too much to ask for.”

As the conversation suggests, this is not the first time Sylus has brought up this proposition. What remains unsaid is how you would be closer to his residence if you were to move to one of the many apartments he had in mind, all of which would reduce your commute to his place down to walking a block or two; not a twenty-minute drive.

“Just say the word, and it will be done,” Sylus murmurs into your hair. When he realizes he has received no response, your soft snoring greets him before he can inquire any further. With a heavy sigh, he reaches out and switches the nightstand light off, leaving the darkness to swallow you both. His eyes fall shut in tired ease, but his grip around your shoulders remains firm.

-

It comes to no one’s surprise that you feel less than well-rested when your alarm starts blaring at 5:45AM. You had an early class today, so you had to give yourself ample time to make it home, change, wipe away any lingering smudges of last night’s makeup, and try to appear as…casual as possible. Not wanting to wake him up so much that he cannot fall back asleep, you reach out for your phone and click one of the volume buttons, rendering it silent. Sometime in the night, your position had changed to Sylus spooning you. His limb slung over your waist is heavy, making it all that more difficult to leave – not just physically, but mentally as well.

Like ripping a bandaid off, you have every intention to quickly remove yourself from his embrace. But Sylus, being the infuriatingly light sleeper that he is, immediately tightens his hold around you as soon as you attempt your escape.

“Sylus, I need to go,” you whisper.

He presses you impossibly closer to him. “I will drive you to your apartment. Sleep.”

“No, I’m taking the subway.”

“Why take the subway when you have me?”

“If anyone needs rest, it’s you,” you say pointedly, because it’s true. Being the CEO of a business that may or may not be totally legal (you never ask because honestly, the less you know, the better) is not exactly a 9AM-5PM job. There have been more times than you can count when he would be pounding into you and forced to take a phone call. Granted, that doesn’t stop him from grinding into you and grinning devilishly when you bury your face into the nearest pillow to muffle your moans and whines.

“Speak for yourself,” he grumbles into your hair. “You haven’t gotten more than six hours of sleep every night for the last week.”

“And how exactly do you know this?” As soon as you ask, you already know the answer.

The app for– “Your smartwatch.”

“One of these days, I will disconnect my account from that app.”

“I would like to see you try.”

And you will. Just, when you’re not trapped in his arms.

“I’m still taking the subway,” you backtrack, though your voice is quieter than before. A tiny sense of relief fills you when his embrace loosens, and you can finally crawl out of bed. It’s harder than it seems to squash the distressed voice in your head complaining about how easy it was for him to let you go. As you pick up all your clothes and make your way towards the bathroom, you notice his phone sitting innocently by the room’s coffee machine. After looking over your shoulder, you swipe it off the counter and bring it with you.

Guessing his passcode is harder than you thought – the man has an ego the size of the entire universe, so you figure it would be something personal: his inaugural date as CEO, his birth year, his birthday, or others. On your last, desperate attempt, you type in four digits and find yourself absolutely floored at the view of his, now, unlocked phone.

Your birthday.

There is no time to dwell on the implications of it all, and you chalk it up to the fact that no one really knows you outside of being his typical date or escort. Therefore, the passcode would be that much harder to guess than the route that you had originally gone for. Yes, that’s all it was: an extra layer of security.

Sylus’s phone is surprisingly unorganized, random apps thrown into folders that they do not belong in, leaving you to search for the fitness app that your watch is not only connected to on your own phone, but somehow also on his. You press the buttons necessary to delete your watch data from his end. When you are ready to close the app, you cannot help but notice the preview of his messages app and the texts within. Your thumb swipes away the fitness app and shakily taps the messages window that stares hauntingly at you. It had been left open on a conversation with another woman, if you had to guess based on the name sitting at the top.

My parents are getting antsy, and so is your grandfather.

That is none of my concern.

Unfortunately, it is. They’re not exactly happy about the woman you keep bringing as a partner.

Our arranged marriage is not a publicly known detail.

And I’d like to keep it that way. But Sylus…

What?

We can’t delay this much longer. You’re running out of time.

The exchange tells you enough, just enough for you to realize the situation you find yourself in. You suddenly recall an incident in the beginning of this relationship with Sylus when he described this arrangement, him as your sugar daddy, as a means to an end, preferably the end of something that he clearly did not want out of desire for his own freedom. There was not enough detail for you to give it much thought after that night of discussion and negotiation, but now, it all makes sense.

Your thumb takes it back to his home screen and presses the lock button. In a haze, you get ready and dressed before exiting the bathroom, completely unaware if you even have your clothes on right or your hair somewhat kempt. As quietly as possible, you place his phone back where you had found it. Though common practice at this point, it now feels far too intimate to plant a featherlight kiss on his cheek. It causes him to stir, but you’re halfway out the door before he can fully register your departure.

Whoever passes by, whatever zooms past, however something tries to gain your attention, you have no recognition of your surroundings. A thick layer of tension settles itself into your brain, allowing you to think of nothing but the fact that this entire time, Sylus has been in an arranged marriage that you, apparently, were supposed to be instrumental in destroying. To find yourself back in your apartment maybe forty minutes later is a miracle in and of itself. You return to the plane of reality when you open your closet doors to toss your dirty clothes into the hamper and are greeted by the many items bought with his money.

Contrary to popular belief, jealousy does not make itself known in your system. You’re not exuding shades of green or red like an angry Christmas tree. If anything, you come to a quiet acceptance that this…partnership with Sylus will come to an end, and soon. It would do no good for him to keep seeing or supporting you while formally married, which means you have to get your life in order. Sylus has given you more than enough money to put you through your last two years of your postgraduate career and maybe a year into your postdoc, but you should still remain frugal. If you’re lucky enough, the money you earn during postdoc would be enough to live relatively comfortably on.

Alone. Without him.

It’s fine, you think to yourself as you turn on the shower. It’s totally and completely fine.

-

A couple hours later in class, your phone vibrates with a message that reads, “You actually managed to disconnect your watch from my phone.”

The slight smirk tugging at your lips is inevitable as you type out a response: You told me to try, so I did.

“I will be changing my passcode.”

If you want. There’s nothing else on there that I need to delete, right?

“Oh sweetie, wouldn’t you like to know?”

The subtle, possessive curl of his message coils around you tenderly, making you temporarily forget that you are in class and should be exhibiting a poker face. But you still shift in your seat, a warm pool of heat forming in your core as you imagine his expression and his voice reading the message out loud. Forever a tease and a flirt, Sylus knows exactly what he is doing by sending you that message.

Your best revenge in the moment is to leave him on read, on the edge of his metaphorical seat. It takes too much effort to bring your conscience back to your current lecture and actually take some notes. Your phone buzzes once, but you ignore it – and in hindsight, you’re glad you did. Sylus, in all his infinite wisdom and glory, took it upon himself to send you a picture of himself after a shower – the skin of his chest glistening under the fluorescent lights, grey towel hung low on his waist and barely holding on, veins on his arms frustratingly visible because he knows what they do to you, his biceps flexed just enough that you want to take a bite at them. The fucker full well knew you were in class and, you know, in relatively close proximity to other people who would have, no doubt, gotten an eyeful.

As you walk towards the subway station to go back to your apartment, head down and focused on typing out a message, a giddy smile can’t help but break out across your face. Your thumbs tap, “Should you really be sending photos like this to someone who, in the public’s eye, is just a friendly escort?”

After not even thirty seconds, your phone buzzes, the notification of his call sliding in from the top of your screen. You almost roll your eyes as you bring the device to your ear. “You have five minutes before I lose signal underground,” you warn, your tone still playful nevertheless.

“‘A friendly escort’, you say? I suppose that’s what the young ones are calling intimacy these days.”

“You knew I was in class. And stop it, I know you have some stupid smug look on your face right now,” you chastise.

“You know me so well.”

“Actually, speaking of,” you say as your eyes flit down to your watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting right now?”

“I stepped out.”

Your heart and feet skip a beat, almost causing you to fall flat on your face and absolutely eat shit in the middle of the sidewalk. It’s hard not to let your mind race at all the implications, that this tirelessly busy man decided in a heartbeat that he would step out with a desire to call you over something so minor; to do no more than simply tease you. In the grand scheme of his life, you have very little significance – your temporary companionship where you may see him four or five times a month, sometimes with weeks in between and other times mere days. Text messages were never a guaranteed daily activity, though as of recent, he has been texting you more often. But amidst his employees, his connections, his partnerships, his family, you’re just…you.

You didn’t realize you had been stunned into silence long enough for him to ask, “Are you still there?”

“I am, sorry,” you apologize, scrambling to think of an excuse. “Uhh, an email came in and I was reading it. Didn’t hear you.”

“I’ll get you some wireless earbuds.”

“Please don’t.” Your rejection is immediate, firm. The lack of room left for argument stands apparent. “That’s not necessary.”

“And what’s stopping me from just ordering you a pair regardless?”

“Me.”

Sylus responds with a contemplative pause, which is...unusual. He has always been so quick to reply with wit and banter, but there is a chance that maybe something distracted him, like what you had said as a poor attempt at a viable excuse.

“I suppose the kitten is starting to make use of her claws now.” His voice rings softer, quieter, almost as if disheartened by his own statement. “First you disconnect your watch, and now you won’t even let me buy you earbuds.”

“I just don’t want you to buy anything that’s not necessary. Covering my tuition and all the dresses is one thing, but wireless earbuds, I can do without. My wired ones work just fine.”

Your eyes catch the sign for the stairs leading down to the subway up ahead. “I’m about to go under and lose signal. Was there anything else?”

“Come over tonight.”

Your mouth works faster than your brain. “I can’t,” you lie, a pang of guilt creeping into your heart. “There’s a study group tonight for an exam.” Not a lie. “Besides, we just saw each other yesterday.”

“Has that ever stopped us before?”

“W-well, no,” you splutter because it’s true. There have been a handful of times when you spent two, sometimes three consecutive nights in the past – but things were more hot-and-heavy then, a time when you couldn’t get enough of him and vice versa. “I’m just saying.”

“Then come after the study group.”

“It’s gonna run pretty late because we have an exam in a few days.” Again, not a lie. “Who knows if the subways would still be running by then?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“But you might be asleep.”

“Highly unlikely, little one.”

Quickly looking around you, you quietly hiss, “Sylus, you should be asleep by the time the subways stop running. Why would you still be up at 2AM?”

“In case I have to refresh your memory, you do remember that I am the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in Linkon, right? The work never ends.”

“You need time for sleep, you know, like everyone else??”

“I’m not like everyone else.”

Your eyes close in frustration as you groan. Your feet have reached the top of the stairs, and you couldn’t have asked for more perfect timing. “Okay, I’m at the station so I’m gonna hang up. I’ll come over another time, alright? Talk to you later.”

“Sweetie–”

Moving forward to race down the stairs and smashing the hang up button is your way of desperately trying to not lose resolve. Any longer, you would have given in and rolled yourself straight back to square one with nothing but dread. You have never been more relieved to see the little “No Signal” sitting in the top left corner while you swipe through a gate and manage to get down another flight of stairs without tripping over your feet.

Wired earbuds in, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie, letting the wind tunnel threaten you to topple over, you do everything in your ability to not think about him – to not think about the messages that may flood your phone once you get signal, to not think about the pushback you may receive because Sylus is someone who figures out to, somehow, always get his way, and to not think about the weight of his earlier words: “I stepped out.” You pretend that you know nothing about this arranged marriage, the curiosity having caused your thumbs to twitch in anticipation at maybe looking up who this woman is. You ignore the now glaringly close deadline that will terminate your relationship with Sylus forever, and most of all, you ignore any semblance of pain that knowledge makes you feel.

Cup half-empty, spoons tossed the window, the subway window across from you is greeted with a blank stare. In a rare moment of mindfulness (or is it dissociation?), you think of nothing until you find yourself standing by the foot of your bed and ready to face plant into the middle of the duvet. With your last shred of working consciousness, you set an alarm for thirty minutes before the start of the study group and promptly fall asleep.

-

As you predicted, the study group runs late into the night. Despite the several digressions into conversations that were very much not academics-related, all of you feel relatively good about the subject matter for the exam on Friday. Everyone comes to a unanimous decision to reconvene in a couple of days. Given that it was Monday, one more study session Wednesday and some independent review Thursday night would be beneficial.

For your own sanity, you had left your phone, stashed in the recesses of your backpack, tossed into the corner of the study room, on do-not-disturb for the entirety of the night. You had it programmed to still chime and alert you if family contacted you, mainly because it doesn’t happen often, and if it does, that means something big happened. The device remained silent for the whole time, and part of you wants to avoid confronting what your notification screen might look like. But before you can muster up the courage to do so, one of your friends speaks up.

“Hey, you took the subway here, right? I can drive you home,” Jiho, a doctoral student in the same year as you but doing research under a different professor, offers. A part of you is beyond relieved at the perfect example of an excuse to not check your phone because it would be so incredibly rude (not really) in a social context.

“You wouldn’t mind? If you have somewhere to be, I can just walk.”

Jiho rolls his eyes in a playful manner. “Come on, before I change my mind.”

He drops you off in front of your apartment complex about ten minutes later, and he shoos away your offer to buy him coffee as a token of gratitude. You wave goodbye as his car pulls out of a guest parking spot, and only then do you notice the conspicuously sleek, grey sports car sitting a few meters away. Your heart pounds, and your palms begin to sweat as you get closer and closer to your unit, afraid of who you might find once you get inside. You spot the fluorescent glow from underneath peering out from underneath your door, and it takes everything in you to not drop your keys as you unlock the deadbolt.

“So the kitten has finally decided to come home.”

“How–”

Sylus, looking severely out of place in your humble abode, sets down the stack of papers in his hand on your coffee table. With his other hand, he points to the fixture on your wall by the door where your keys typically hang. His own set now occupies one of the hooks, and you spot the spare key you had given him a few months ago. To your knowledge, he has never used it before, and you can count the number of times he has stepped into this apartment on one hand.

You quietly shut the door behind you, locking both deadbolts in place before setting your backpack down. “It’s so late,” and even you wince at the shakiness in your voice. “You should be asleep. At home.”

“Perhaps I would be if someone had just checked their phone once in the last fifteen hours.”

Well, you don’t have much of an excuse for that.

Sylus sits on one end of your couch in loungewear, though somehow, he still makes it seem like he’s in something formal enough for business casual. You cautiously sit on the other end away from him.

“I passed out as soon as I got home, and then I was running late for the study group, so I just left my phone on do-not-disturb.”

His silence speaks volumes.

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

But maybe you did.

Maybe, subconsciously, you did. Maybe you wanted to test the limits of his affection. Maybe you wanted to see just how far he would go to make sure you were okay.

Maybe you simply wanted to get a taste of when you least expect radio silence, an appetizer for how things may turn out when Sylus calls for the end of your arrangement.

“Look at me.”

Tension weighs you down as you slowly turn your body towards him, but you avoid his gaze and aim to study the logo on his shirt instead.

“Sweetie, look at me.”

The command snaps you into compliance, his tone firm and undeniable. You expect to see anger, frustration, disappointment. After all, it would make sense, for there is a set of expectations and rules put into place to ensure trust between both parties. Transactional, contractual, institutional obligations and conditions set by both the company matchmaker and individuals are put in place to conveniently manifest and quickly disintegrate these business relations, to avoid messes.

But you realize all too quickly that the mess will be inevitable, in your case, because instead of tinges of red fury in his eyes, you find concern, worry, and confusion. Dread sinks into your stomach like an anchor in the middle of the ocean, dropping further and further into the dark unknown.

“You’re hiding something from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you immediately counter. Good job, you just made it more obvious.

Sylus pins you down with a look that means nothing other than “you know better”, and your heart threatens to burst from your chest out of sheer anxiety.

“Since you refuse to tell me otherwise, tell me how you got home,” he says, and though he may seem cool and nonchalant in the way he rests an arm against the back of the couch, you can see the irritation pulsing through the veins on his forearms.

“A friend from the study group drove me home.”

“And you were simply too busy to look at your phone during the drive?”

“I had to give him directions.”

Sylus cocks an eyebrow at the mention of this friend’s gender. “Him?”

“Jiho, sweet guy. Does research with another professor.”

“I suppose I have him to thank for bringing you home safely. Regardless, you should have called me to pick you up.”

You have one last card to play. “That’s not in the contract.”

His eyes harden and narrow the slightest bit, the curve of his jaw growing tense in building irritation. “How so?”

“There’s a line somewhere in there about making sure I would not contact you for personal favors that are outside the scope of our,” you hesitate to find the right words, “relationship.”  You can’t remember the last time your palms sweat so much.

“I offered.”

“And I am not obligated to take the offer. While kind, I did not see the need to bother you.”

“I clearly remember stating that it wouldn’t be an issue, especially considering I asked you to stay with me for the night.”

“But I told you I couldn’t,” you retort.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

The bitter note in his voice on his last word matches his steely gaze that is undoubtedly determined to pick you apart, to peel off each layer of whatever walls you may have put up. He’s not ignorant or oblivious by any means – something is going on, and you’re not telling him. You answer him with deafening silence, blaming your late-night fatigue for it.

Responding directly to his question would only make this worse, as you cannot see yourself getting out of the ensuing conversation unscathed and alive. Instead, the couch dips as you cross the distance between you two, hesitantly straddling his hips in case he doesn’t want you to. But he allows your move, his hands almost instinctively resting on your thighs as you settle yourself into his hold. His skin feels glassy smooth beneath your fingers as you caress his cheek, studying every detail of his face and avoiding his eyes.

Perhaps there is a part of you that is trying to commit the minutiae to memory in preparation for the days when you will no longer see him so intimately. You should have never let yourself get so attached, no matter how much tenderness and adoration Sylus has been lavishing you with. The realization hits you in a bittersweet manner, and the featherlight kiss you place on his lips only makes it hurt more.

Yet you move past the pain to accept the fall, the descent into oblivion as you feel Sylus respond to your kiss, deepening and increasing in fervor. The heat in your core is more than just lust as it sinks deeper and deeper into you, a testament to the depth of your affections. Somehow, his touch as his hands roam your figure burns hotter. It almost makes you want to shy away from his grasp, but part of you welcomes the trails of fire as your punishment for deceiving him.

You gasp out his name as his lips leave your neck scorching, each nip of his teeth and lave of his tongue adding to the haze slowly overtaking your rationale. But beneath the man’s ardor, you manage to recognize his irritation and annoyance – the way his fingers grip your waist, his nails digging into your back – about how this whole night has progressed.

Apologize, his eyes seem to scream. Seek forgiveness as I seek vengeance, his hands draw on your skin.

Beg for me.

“You test my patience in a way that others have never done before,” he says in a dangerous tone as you gasp at the chords of delicious pain running down your back.

“I’m– ah – sorry,” you gasp as his arousal grinds purposefully against yours.

The answering swat against your ass stings, and you attempt to ignore the rush of slick dampening your panties even further –  a reaction that Sylus does not fail to miss. Instinct calls and beckons when your eyes slip shut the moment a hand rakes up to get a firm grip of your hair, pulled towards him so he can kiss you fervently again.

So lost in a hazy reverie, you barely register when he lifts you by your thighs and makes his way to your bedroom. Or at least, you think he’s going there, given that he’s only been in your bedroom once before. But Sylus makes strides with the confidence of someone who has visited here countless times, and the aura he exudes both thrills and frightens you.

In mere seconds, he strips you down and regards you with an appreciative gaze. The glint and apparent desire in his eyes never fails to flatter you – to be wanted is addicting, especially when wanted by a man as powerful as Sylus. You should be alarmed by how natural it feels to be in this current state of undress and debauchery.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, and you obey without a second thought. “Good girl.

“As much as I cannot bother to care about disturbing your neighbors, I know you do,” he concedes, but not without balling up your panties and stuffing them past your parted lips. “All of this could have been avoided if you had just let me pick you up.”

The argumentative whine that slips off your tongue is resolutely muffled, serving no purpose except to further Sylus’s sadism. His approving smirk immediately quells your anger, and you can only watch with half-lidded eyes as he removes his clothes at a painstakingly slow place. Normally, you are the one to grant him a show at his command, but tonight, you deserved a taste of your own medicine. Your wrists become bound by his belt as he finds his second home between your legs. Tears prick the corners of your eyes when he purposefully lets his shaft drop on your clit.

“Always so wet and ready for me, kitten,” he praises, his tone low, teasing, but appreciative.

His smirk widens as he moves to hold his cock and tap it menacingly against the puffy bundle of nerves, taking in each twitch of your body, each dampened mewl, each falling tear. With each tap, the string of slick between your cunt and his length becomes more and more prominent, spreading across his skin. “Tell me, sweetie, who this belongs to,” Sylus compels with a drawl, jutting his chin towards your carnal source of torture before meeting your eyes. He knows very well that the word you're trying to say is “you”, but he takes great pleasure in knowing that there is no way the sounds will come through the soaked cotton in your mouth. “Hmm? What was that?” The frustration of not being able to clearly convey the right answers only adds to your arousal, turning the heat in your core into molten lava. At his clarifying question, you, undoubtedly, feel a pool of precum drip from your pussy, and when you see his eyes flit down to his cock in hand, you know he's fully aware of it too. They hone in on how easily the tip slips into your beckoning entrance, attempting to entice and draw him in for both your pleasures.

You keen as Sylus slides two fingers into your entrance without warning – they’re a far cry from his cock, but thick and long in their own desirable way. The tips of his fingers easily find the spot that makes you squirm, moan, mewl, and you’d have to be blind to miss the wicked expression splitting across his face. Despite the teasing attitude from earlier, he wastes no time trying to bring you to your peak. Your muffled cries only spur him on, even more so when he’s able to fit a third finger inside you. “Maybe I should let your neighbors hear us. I imagine it would get the message across that you’re not exactly…available.”

Embarrassing, what you would give in this very moment to be nothing more than his. Your hips follow the drag of his fingers, unwilling to let yourself feel anything less than filled. But before he lets you come, he stops.

Why?

“Greedy little thing.” His tone is mocking, yet highly amused, as he removes his fingers – and as much as he would like to play with you to his heart’s content, to break you down and tear you apart, his veins thrum with impatience and apprehension. Sylus seeks to punish you in a different, more overwhelming fashion, that would require you to beg him to stop rather than to start. It takes everything in him to not force you down his entire length. Instead, he devises to lull you into a false sense of security with the way that he takes his time sliding into you, no matter how much your pretty cunt desperately tries to suck him in. Sylus is sure you would be able to see the restraint painted across his face if you didn’t have your head thrown back and back arched from being stretched open. The sight of your bare stomach and chest makes it all the much harder to reign in his desires.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His cock continues to bully its way through your pussy, slowly and languidly, until it’s fully trapped inside you. When your thighs meet his v-line and your clit brushes against his skin, you whine and buck against him for desperately needed friction. But Sylus quickly traps you and pins you down from your thighs, restricting your movements with a devilish grin. “You never answered my question,” he reminds you, a clear taunt. In the blink of an eye, he leans back to land a firm yet stinging slap on your puffy clit and revels in your muffled cry. “Who does this belong to?”

Your dry sobs only intensify as you fight to respond with a clear answer, but it’s impossible. The way you grind your hips against him, seeking any sensation that could help quench this insatiable thirst in your core, should say enough. Sure, you could simply point at him, even with your wrists tied together, but you’ve been with him long enough to know that he wants the words of possession to roll off your tongue at times like these. And if you tried taking the cloth from your mouth…needless to say, you would be lucky to survive the night.

He chuckles when he feels the walls of your pussy tighten around his cock, a different tone that deviates from the vicious shake of your head to signal that despite your complaints, you would much rather be gagged like this. “Cum for me,” Sylus demands in a low voice. “Cum for me, cum from me just being inside you, and I will give you what you’ve been begging for this whole time.

“Even better yet, make a mess.”

The coil in your core tightens more and more and more until it suddenly snaps, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm and your throat hoarse from your silenced screams. “Good girl,” he praises when he pulls out, hungry eyes roaming every inch of you, as he rapidly swipes his fingers against your clit and relishes in his ability to make you squirt, fluids flying and landing messily in the near vicinity. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get over the high, oversensitivity from his fingers as they continue to stimulate you. Barely coming down from your climax, Sylus stuffs three fingers inside you and continues to fuck you, purposefully and forcefully rocking against your g-spot.

“Please,” you beg and cry as you twitch and flinch, trying to remove yourself from the source of this unbearable amount of pleasure. But your articulation is, once again, victim to your cotton gag, leaving you to audibly dry sob and squeal in overstimulation. The satisfaction on your sponsor’s complexion should sound the alarms in your brain, but it only thrills you to pieces as clarity fades more and more from your conscience.

In a haze, you manage to pull your belt-bound wrists forward from above your head and tap his shoulder three times. Only then does he stop in his tracks, carefully removing his fingers from your core. Sylus exhibits the same attention when he holds your chin with one hand and takes the soaked cotton of your panties out of your mouth. Before you can even take two breaths, greedily gasping for air, Sylus kisses you softly, slowly. Unable to do much with your head still in a fog, you reciprocate as much as you can – to silently thank him for his punishment, as well as his mercy. He pulls back, cueing you to open your eyes and take him in, just as he assesses you in his own way. His eyes search and roam your face and figure before meeting your gaze once more.

How endearing, you believe they seem to say. He cocks an eyebrow, his way of asking are you okay? You take a few deep breaths before nodding. But before you can try and decipher more of what he may be feeling through his eyes, he bends forward, breathing into your ear, “On your stomach.”

Large, strong hands manhandle you until your head is almost buried into the sheets, hiding your disheveled state, your hands grasping at the expensive linen, and his weight planted firmly on top of you. A pillow is stuffed beneath your abdomen before he spreads your ass, eager to study the ruin he has caused on your poor, little pussy. Sylus readjusts himself so that his dick nestles comfortably between your ass cheeks. Even in your daze, the heat of his arousal almost seems to burn your flesh, and you desperately wish it was inside you. 

A self-proclaimed mind reader, Sylus drives you to the edge, groaning quietly when your cunt attempts to lure him in when he coquettes you with the tip. Every slide, every push, every instance of friction makes you fall deeper into this pool of anguish and lechery. Before you even realize it, visceral pleas for him to fuck you are spilling from your tongue, very much so to his delight. “I know you can beg better than that,” he taunts. “And to think I had trained you so well.” His voice reeks in mock despair and disappointment.

Though you know he’s not completely serious, his words are enough to send your sin-addled brain into a state of panic – so panicked and shaken to the point that you don't even register the next words falling off your tongue. Something about the practiced but genuine phrases of separation, wanting to be used, wanting to be ruined – were you pressing back into him, hoping, praying that you could draw him into you?

In response, you soak in the hisses of expletives in your ear, the comforting, mind-numbing sensation of being filled again, and the weight of his frame atop yours. He holds himself up on his elbows, and each thrust threatens to split you in two. “Mine,” his voice slips through your conscience, hanging onto the way the sound drags out, “are you not?”

Always, you nearly answer on primal instinct when he buries himself as deep as he can inside you, his cock almost feeling like it’s in the back of your throat. The inexplicable amount of pleasure stops you from giving him what he wants, which pushes him to press himself even harder against you. “I’m beginning to lose my patience, kitten,” Sylus warns, as if he’s not the very reason for your delayed responses. His fingers sneak underneath you to grab you around the neck, forcing your head up. Your pants are greedy, desperately seeking air as his hand tightens just a bit more, the haziness in your mind thickening.

“Yours,” you gasp. “Always,” slips off your tongue before you can stop yourself.

The silence that hangs still is enough to make you question whether or not you fucked this whole thing up. Dread begins to drip into your system as his grip around your neck loosens, even more so when his hand slips away entirely and he begins sliding out of you. “Wa–”

In the blink of an eye, his hand pushes your head back into the sheets, his fingers curling around your strands at the scalp. Sylus’s cock fucks you into the mattress, his pace almost frantic, yet punishing. The realization that you’re going to be incredibly sore in the morning is an accepted assumption at this point, leaving you with little warning of your release approaching the precipice. Silenced cries, Sylus fervidly ensuring that your pussy is forever molded to the shape of his length, your sanity slipping – his impassioned murmurs of how tight you are, how easily he can pound you into oblivion, how your pussy makes it so easy for him to sink into the very depths of your core – all drive you to your peak. His last sign that you’re going to come is the dissipation of your whimpers.

Sylus wraps his hand around your neck once more, turning it so that he can capture your lips in a bruising kiss. He swallows your screams as you topple over the edge, your climax so intense that your whole body trembles for what feels like eternity in his hold. Your pussy compels him to remain buried deep inside you, and he’s more than happy to comply. But it doesn’t stop him from grinding against you, driving you into overstimulation.

“So good,” he groans against your lips in between kisses. “So fucking good, taking my cock so well, I’m gonna–”

“Y-your cum, please,” you urge. “Please give me your cum!” Your voice dissolves into sobs.

“Fuck!” Sylus spits out. The hand that was on your neck now covers your mouth as he spills inside you with a deep moan, his teeth buried into your shoulder to muffle his own voice. You relish in the sharp pain, as if he’s trying to engrave his mark into your skin, and can’t help but keen as his cum fills you up. Each pulse and twitch of his cock sends a shiver down your spine and almost tempts you into begging for more.

Catching his breath, he refuses to leave your warmth. His tongue softly licks the area where his teeth had embedded themselves into your shoulder, and follows them with reverent kisses. You remain quiet, only letting your breath hitch when Sylus slips out of you. He gently presses your back into a deeper arch so that you can present yourself to him, and he watches with apparent satisfaction as his cum leaks from your pussy. A hand on your ass, his thumb reaches over for your entrance to push and give him a better view of his undeniable claim on you.

As infuriating as he can be, you observe with bleary eyes as he leaves to grab a damp towel from your bathroom before returning and carefully wiping his cum away. After doing so, he tosses it to the floor and picks you up bridal-style, carrying you the short distance to your bathroom. He starts the shower and hums some nonsensical tune with a faint voice as you wait for the water to warm up. When he deems it hot enough, Sylus offers you a hand and helps you into the shower. Compared to his apartment, your shower stall is barely enough to fit the both of you. But he makes it work, taking the utmost care in cleaning you up, his touch so cautious yet heavy with care.

You barely remember making it out of the shower, much less when he dries you off and brings you to bed. There’s a faint memory of his warmth wrapping around your frame when you awaken later that morning, a delicious ache stretched through your muscles. Yet the side where he laid is cold.

It, along with the unread text from your bank notifying you of a, no doubt, sizeable deposit, is to be expected, you remind yourself. The sticky note by your phone that reads, “Early meeting, sweetie. -S” is the only truly physical (and unexpected) sign that he had been here in the first place. He never owes you an explanation, and you never expect to get one.

Just another day, another transaction.

-

Friday rolls around, and when the sun has set beneath the horizon, you find yourself perched in Sylus’s home on the kitchen island, a speckless slab of black quartz that you just know you’re leaving fingerprints on, as he throws together a salad. Something is in the air fryer, and he has a bottle of sparkling cider waiting to be opened. Sylus had stopped you with a look of “don’t you dare” when you tried helping out with something – anything – so the only thing you could do was sit and try to look pretty.

“Pick a salad dressing,” he commands when you grow silent. You eye the three jars that have been placed in front of you.

“I’m fine with any of them.”

“Not an answer.”

“I’m serious though!”

“Pick one.”

You groan as you look at the jars and point at the middle one. “Happy now?” you ask passive aggressively, sending him an exasperated glare.

Sylus, swift and silent, swoops in and steals a kiss from an unexpected you. Saying nothing, he pours some out into the salad bowl and mixes it all together with adept flicks of his wrist – no utensils needed. With a pair of tongs, he drops some greens onto your plate before taking the rest and tending to whatever is cooking in the oven.

It’s not the first time you’ve been here, and it’s not the first time he’s cooked for you. But it is the first time since accepting that you may feel something more than obligation and friendly affection for this man. This whole experience feels wildly domestic, as if you belonged…here.

On this counter.

Accepting impromptu kisses.

Waiting on food cooked by him.

Knowing you’re staying over for the night.

As if you were meant to be a part of his life.

The thought terrifies you, without a doubt, but you like it. Settling down with Sylus, forever attached at his hip at events, is a dangerous fantasy.

Lost in your thoughts, the what if?s, the possibilities, your daydream breaks when he pulls the curtain closed in front of the balcony door, completely blocking a wonderful (and surely, very expensive) view of Linkon. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you had been looking past the windowpane when frolicking around in your imagination, and you’re reminded of the night before you disconnected your smart watch from his phone. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You feel the heat rushing into your cheeks, knowing they would be warm to the touch. Turning away from the now-concealed nighttime skyline, you direct your attention to the fridge meters away from you. “Just thinking about my test.”

“It’s too late now, if you realize you got something wrong. We’re here to celebrate it being over.”

“I know.” You sigh. “Thank you for doing this, by the way. I was getting a little tired of eating out.”

“I was as well. Too many business lunches and dinners the last couple of weeks.”

“How did those go?” you ask just to keep the conversation going.

“They went fine,” Sylus says without any further detail. “Come, let’s eat.” Before you can come down from the counter yourself, he already has an arm wound around your waist and is semi-carrying you to the dinner table. The distance between the table and the kitchen was maybe fifteen steps at best, closer to seven given Sylus’s long strides. It would’ve been a short walk regardless, and you’re flustered with the unexpected royal treatment.

Unceremoniously (but still carefully), he sits you down into a chair and pushes it in before going to his seat. Sylus places himself next to you at this round, mahogany table that seems a little too big for a man who lives alone. Largely used for serving several different dishes, it just looks a little out of place compared to the rest of his penthouse, all sleek and sharp. But you’ve learned to stop questioning things you’re curious about when it comes to his personal life, because clearly, he’s not very open to sharing those details.

Dinner isn’t anything special, as Sylus lets you prattle on about your research and other office gossip. He never divulges any of the gossip in his own workplace, but you understand it’s for confidentiality reasons. And he may just not care that much. At this point, Sylus knows a little too much about you while you know very little about him outside of his preferences and inclinations for food, media, and general daily habits.

Understanding the reality of that stun locks you for a few seconds – the duality of the word intimacy, the realization that you don’t even know Sylus’s favorite color. You could guess, sure, but you don’t definitively know. Why is it that you know the exact amount of shaved truffle on his pasta at that fancy restaurant by the river, but not his birthday? How do you explain your ability to pick up on details of his facial expressions at events and banquets, therefore knowing when to intervene so he can get a break from these people, but not the makeup of his family?

“You’ve been staring off into space quite a bit lately,” Sylus muses, ripping you away from the beginnings of your mental breakdown.

“Sorry, I just thought of something about my exam again.”

“What a terrible host I’ve been then, to allow your mind to wander so often. How can I keep your focus on me?”

You hum, looking around his apartment and then at the table. “Let me wash the dishes.”

“I own a dishwasher for a reason.”

“Please? It’s the least I could do since you made dinner – which was wonderful, by the way. You ever consider becoming a chef?” you ask with a slight chuckle, taking the opportunity to grab his dishware and utensils and carry them to the sink. Stainless steel shines brightly at you, whether from a recent deep clean or lack of usage, as you start to run the tap for warm water.

Large, familiar hands find their home on your waist, the heat burning through your sweater. They pull you against his frame, and you allow yourself to lean back a little bit as you start scrubbing the porcelain. Arms wind around your middle and hold you tight, his senses becoming muddled as he loses himself in your scent and touch. He gently paints the column of your neck with soft, faint kisses – so soft that if you hadn’t been so tuned into him, you would’ve missed them.

“You’re taking too long,” Sylus murmurs against your skin.

“What, never had to wait a tiny bit for a treat you want?” you tease, and chuckle when his teeth bite into your shoulder.

“Brat.”

“I’m almost done, I promise.” 

It’s so hard to not like–

Your brain freezes – but somehow still commands you to scrub the plate in your hand. Moving on pure muscle memory now, you have maybe five seconds to figure out your own thought process.

This is a contract, you remind yourself. This is a mutual relationship to satisfy both parties’ needs without getting personal feelings involved. Sylus made that very clear in the beginning. But the less logical part of your conscience creeps in like a phantom on your shoulder. So how does that explain Sylus’s actions recently? How does that explain this very moment of what would appear to anyone as a sweet, pure, domestic interaction?

He’s just comfortable, you rationalize.

Why does he insist on you staying the night?

Because that’s what this contract entails.

Why does he keep asking you to move closer?

It’d be more of a problem if he was asking me to move in with him.

Would it be though?

Of course??

You sure about that?

This is NOT the time for--!

A small pinch on your waist brings you back to reality, your synapses firing on overdrive to try to get you back to a functional level. You cannot hold back your “ow!”, which seems to be just enough of a reaction to satisfy this man.

“What was that for?!”

“Something is clearly on your mind,” he says in a low tone, the tone that indicates he’s starting to become agitated.

“No there’s not,” you retort and fail to hide the sheepishness in your own voice.

“You’re doing a terrible job at convincing me to accept that. What are you not telling me?”

“It’s–,” you pause, scrambling for words. “--trivial, at best.”

Sylus’s arm extends in front of you to forcibly remove the plate from one hand and the sponge from the other. You relent to reduce the risk of breaking anything, but somehow, it’s still not enough. He grabs a tea towel hanging on the oven door behind him, spins you around so that your back is now digging into the edge of the sink, and proceeds to furiously dry your hands. You can’t help but wince when he tries to rub off some dried soap residue, but there is no time to dwell on it.

Not when Sylus slings the towel on to his shoulder and bends at the waist to meet your eyes. Not when he cages you between his arms as his hands bear his weight on either side of you. Not when he pins you with an expectant glare, demanding your full honesty.

“It’s really nothing.” Your tone is firmer now, but he doesn’t fall for it.

“Is it something personal?”

“...yes.”

“Does it have anything to do with your family?”

“No.”

“Is it something that I’m able to fix?

Technically, yes. But you’re not stupid.

“No.” Your voice softens, lowering to a murmur at best.

“Tsk,” Sylus clicks his tongue. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“Because you have a large enough influence to make you think that you can fix anything you want.”

“Precisely,” he responds pointedly and, perhaps, a little too proudly. “So tell me. Tell me what’s bothering you, and I’ll have it resolved within 48 hours.”

You didn’t realize that you had stopped looking him in the eye. And when you do, your breath hitches. So determined, so resolute.

And yet, so heartbreaking.

You can’t help but let your fingers ghost over his cheek, tracing the edge of his jawline. He stands firm even when you step forward and press a light kiss against his cheek. As if on instinct, he turns and immediately parts his lips to slide against yours, but you pull back before he has the chance to deepen it, and with it, your affection.

“You have enough to worry about as it is,” you murmur. “I’m fine, really.”

Sylus’s eyes turn disapproving, doubtful. But he knows when to back off when needed.

“Don’t forget that I can help you, should you need it,” he gently reminds you. “Do you understand?”

“I do, don’t worry.”

He sighs. “Very well then. Now come, we’re here to celebrate the end of your exam, after all.”

You take his outstretched hand, but you fail to leave behind your troubled heart.

-

Two nights later, at four in the morning, you stare blankly at your phone screen.

[Are you sure you want to request to terminate this contract?]

The only contact you've had with Sylus the last two days is sporadic texts about little things, like how your day was going or if you'd heard about the results of your exam yet. You do your best in suppressing the quiet loneliness that pushes your heart to your throat and a dagger into your stomach, the undeniable sensation of realizing that you miss Sylus.

Missing him as if he were your actual partner and not just one for show with dollar signs behind the scenes.

Worrying enough to wonder if he's getting enough sleep and eating enough food outside of whatever work dinners or lunches he may be obligated to attend. Just yesterday, you had ordered delivery to his office with your own money, and he had texted you a simple Thank you, little one. To which you responded with a casual, You're welcome 👍.

Smooth.

You're not sure how long your eyes linger over the [Yes] button, the midnight minutes blinking by as you contemplate your next move. Is this the right call? Should you wait until Sylus comes around and tells you on his own about the arranged marriage? Should you just wait until he makes the request instead?

No. You want a clean break. You want to call this off on your terms, essentially saving yourself from the path of destruction that you would undoubtedly set off on. One tap and a press of the lock button immediately after, you burrow yourself into your blankets and will yourself to sleep.

With light sleep at best, you watch with bleary eyes as the sun begins to rise, casting your room into a hue of its golden hour, signifying contentment and new beginnings. But it only elicits dread as you wait for the inevitable end.

-

The shriek of your phone rips you from your mindless daydreaming, and you know who it is before you can even get a good look at the screen.

“Hel–”

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice rings dark, irate, with what you think is the slightest hint of panic laced beneath each syllable.

“Sylus,” you start, but he interrupts you again.

“If I did something to upset you, then you need to let me know. Otherwise, I am at a complete loss for your sudden request to terminate our agreement.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Your attempt to subdue his worries may be futile, but you at least have to try.

“And I’m sure you can see why I don’t believe you for even a second.”

“I mean it though,” you refute. “Look, I’ll explain more when we meet with the company rep.”

“My patience is running thin. Tell me now.”

“Please, please just wait until we meet this evening,” you beseech, on the brink of breaking down while walking back to your apartment from class.

“It was simply a mistake, right?”

“Sylus, please–”

“Fine. Don’t be late.” The beep that follows indicates he has hung up on you. You suppose you got what you wanted, but it feels a hundred times worse.

There will never be enough time in the world for you to be prepared for this moment, standing in the ascending elevator of a discrete yet well-kept high-rise building while clutching a manilla envelope in your hand. The last time you were here was to outline the conditions of the situation with a representative there to help mitigate and ensure that both parties would be satisfied. You suppose they’ll be doing the same thing today, except it would be to ensure a clean split.

As the secretary walks you to the designated conference room, your legs tremble, even more so when she casually adds that Sylus was already here, waiting. She stops and knocks on the door in front of her, announcing your arrival. A sound of approval from inside cues her to open the door and let you in, and you nervously step inside after thanking her. Not that you didn’t believe her earlier, but actually seeing Sylus in the flesh somehow adds to the gravity of the situation.

“We have both parties here now, so let us begin,” the representative says after greeting you with a handshake. Calling out your name and gesturing to you, he states,” You are the one that called to terminate this contractual agreement, is that correct?”

“Yes,” you confirm in a shaky voice and clear your throat. A copy of the contract sits in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the letters that are starting to blur and swirl together. If it means that you don’t have to look at Sylus, you’ll take it.

“Is the reason for the termination due to any violations of the terms and conditions set at the initial meeting?”

“No.”

Despite keeping your head down, you see and hear Sylus shift in his chair. A sudden chill wraps around you, and you slightly shiver.

“Mr. Qin, to your knowledge, did she violate any part of the contract?”

“No.”

“Now let us discuss financial compensation.” Looking towards you again, he asks, “Have you been financially compensated for your services?”

“More than adequately.”

“Per the contract, are there any services you have not been paid for?”

You shake your head. “Sylus does not owe me anything.”

“Then as per company policy, once one party calls for the termination of the contract, the request must be honored to protect the safety of both parties. Any services that were not compensated for would have to be done here in this meeting, but that is not a concern in this case. Please give me a few minutes to draw up the agreement to terminate so that you both can sign it.” The representative gets up and leaves the conference room.

Sylus steals the opportunity to ask the one question that has been on repeat in his mind since he received the notification.

“Why?”

You like to think you’ve gotten to know Sylus relatively well over the last year. Given your lack of explanation over the phone earlier, you know your words alone would never be enough to placate him. With shaky hands, you retrieve the envelope from your lap and slide it across the table, even daring to finally look up at him now. His crimson eyes nearly break you, but you’re grasping onto every last straw to keep yourself sane.

Inside the envelope contained a couple of pictures found online of Sylus’s arranged fiancée, as well as several news articles discussing how her company may be heading towards a merger, but it was unclear on exactly when it would happen and who it would be with. It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that you’ve seen her several times in passing at various events and fundraisers, and that she and the man sitting across you seemed to avoid each other in public as inconspicuously as possible. You warily watch as he pulls the contents out and freezes, his gaze snapping back to you.

“How did you…?” he inquires.

“It doesn’t matter how I found out,” you respond softly before switching to a more matter-of-fact tone. “We knew this would come to an end at some point. Considering your arrangement isn’t known to the public yet, it was fine to be seen with me. But when this news breaks out, and if you’re still associated with me, it wouldn’t look good for either of you. You don’t need the reputation as a two-timing womanizer, and she doesn’t need to be publicly perceived as some poor woman who couldn’t keep a hold on you, therefore undermining her achievements.”

“You should have talked to me before going straight to nullifying our contract,” he fires back.

“That would’ve made it harder.”

Sylus leans back in his seat, now regarding you with piqued curiosity. “Made what harder?”

“Maybe that’s not the right expression.” Your palms are starting to get sweaty again, even as they curl and clench tighter than ever, your fingers digging into your palms. There's nothing you can do that would eradicate the shakiness in your voice. “I just meant that talking before now would've made everything complicated.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Do elaborate.”

 “Well, I thought,” you stammer. “I mean– it’s just talking would’ve, would’ve– let some—” You pause again, desperately trying to find the right words. “Would’ve let some things be said that would’ve, you know, been better to be left unsaid. About us. Between us. Does that make sense?” Your hands have been drawing inane shapes in the air as if they would help aid in Sylus’s (and your) understanding.

“Better unsaid by you or me?”

After a few seconds, you answer hesitantly, “Both, maybe?”

For the first time in months, there are no emotions in his eyes. You have always been able to pick out at least something he may be feeling – affection, frustration, fatigue, lust – but to be on the receiving end of his blank stare like it’s the first day all over again, is unnerving. Agonizing, too.

When he finally opens his mouth, his tone dripping with disdain and mockery, he derides, “Who knew the little kitten thought so highly of herself?”

His words immediately trigger an alarming amount of shame and embarrassment. Have you been reading too much into his actions? Was it all in your head? Did it all occur out of some desperation for something genuine from him?

Oh God.

It’s at this moment that the representative comes back with the papers in hand, and part of you is ready to believe that there may actually be a higher power in the universe. “Thank you for your patience. Once you both have signed the termination agreement, I will make copies for both of you.” He seems completely unaware of the tension that has solidified between you and the CEO, even as you take the pen from the representative with a slight tremor. You quickly scan over the contents because you’re having an increasingly difficult time finding the brain cells to scrutinize each sentence and sign on the indicated lines. After you all but shove the papers across the table, you push your seat back and grab your purse.

“Oh, miss,” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“You can just email me a copy of these. Excuse me, I have something urgent to get to.”

He stares at you for a few seconds before giving a corporate smile. “Of course. Thank you for coming in. Have a good rest of your night.”

“Thank you. You as well.” Your platitude is rushed, almost harsh sounding. You mentally note that you need to send a card that is both a thank-you and an apology for scurrying off like this when you were the one to initiate it.

The walls feel like they’re closing in on your brain and consciousness, so much so that you suddenly find yourself out in the lobby of the building with no recollection of how you even got down here. A gust of fresh air hits you as you step out the doors, and it’s a little easier to breathe now. But it doesn’t mean that your chest isn’t ready to burst, your ribcage threatening to tear open and leave you passed out on the street. It doesn’t mean that Sylus’s words don’t hurt you any less, and the pain of your own embarrassment only compounds on them.

The uncharacteristic chill on this summer night scrapes against your cheeks and ears. You finally will yourself to walk towards the nearest subway station, all the while blinking back tears that just won’t stop coming. Never mind the other pedestrians who may catch a glimpse of you wiping away any physical manifestation of your grief, the other subway riders who may observe you desperately hiding in a corner of the carriage, or even the other residents in your apartment building who watch you furiously tapping your phone while passing by.

With nothing to stop you, not even your own will, you let the tears flow, streaming down the sides of your face and into your pillow as you trace the ridges of your wall, your phone lying innocently a few inches away. Despite deleting his phone number and officially disconnecting on the website, you can’t bring yourself to discard his message thread. There were too many memories, too many reminders of what you once had and will probably never have again.

Your pillow becomes damp with tears of confusion, shame, and regret. How could you be so stupid,so caught up in your own delusions that Sylus Qin, tech mogul and CEO, one of the most secretive and sought-out individuals of the current decade, with connections you couldn’t even dare to dream of, somehow held a shred of genuine affection for you? How could you have thought that his demands to see you night after night were anything more than just wanting some type of company, the kind that does what he says and strokes his ego? How could you have convinced yourself that you were actually special to him?

How could you have put yourself at so much emotional risk for something that was nothing but transactional to begin with? 

The next morning, with one look at your morose expression and the puffiness of your eyes, the other people in your cohort know better than to ask if you’re okay. During the lecture, Jiho silently hands you a piece of gum, a tiny, reoccurring gesture of camaraderie throughout these years of graduate school, as an attempt at providing some type of normalcy. Your movements are sluggish and lethargic as you fold the strip into your mouth, but it’s the first time in the last 18 hours that you feel like things might…just be okay.

-

Two days later, an email comes from the company telling you it is policy to change your phone number, and they will financially compensate for the cost of a new SIM card since it is an inconvenience to you. Hours later, you find yourself in front of a cellphone technician who is setting up the new SIM card. As they type in a few things on their computer, they hand you a pin to help eject your current one. You’re not looking forward to the hassle of telling everyone that your number has changed and fixing it in everything you have that involves your number, but even you understand that this is the first step to a fresh start. Sylus is probably going through the same process, if he already hasn’t gotten it done.

And as your phone sets everything up with the new number, you stare at your closet, now stuffed to the brim with dresses and skirts that you may never wear again. Nothing you do from now on would ever require such formalities. The knowledge of it stings to some degree when you find a large, empty bin that was used when you had moved in. Without ceremony, you begin the mindless task of removing said clothing items from their hangers and folding them into the container. You don’t want to cry. You don’t expect to cry. But the steady streaks of tears dripping down your face is enough to show how much you grew to cherish your time with Sylus.

Time that you will never be able to return to.

[fin]

.

.

.

.

“How did she know?”

“Sylus, what are you–”

“She knew,” Sylus cuts her off. “How could she have known without you tipping her off?”

“Think about this logically. I want this arrangement gone as much as you do, so why would I tell her? She’s your key to dissolving all this.”

“She was more than that.”  

“Was?”

“Shit,” Sylus curses, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“...she left you?”

“No,” he retorts. “Not willingly.” At least, that’s what he wants to believe. “But I’m not discussing this with you.”

“And I don’t really care to know the details. So…what are we going to do?”

Sylus’s hand tightens around his newly acquired phone as he stands and gazes out the window at the city skyline from his bedroom. He might be starting to understand why you seemed so entranced by the view.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“I really hope so, Sylus.”

-

-

“Hey boss, we’re here for the daily debrief,” Luke and Kieran announce as they slip into his office and all but collapse into the chairs in front of his desk.

“I’m listening,” Sylus says, keeping his eyes trained on his monitor.

“It was the usual. She woke up, skipped breakfast, went to class, stayed in the small office for her professor’s grad students for like, five hours. Uh, what else?”

“Bought a snack from that place in the library that sells coffee and shit,” the other twin adds. “Then she–”

“What snack did she buy?”

“Just some chips, from what we saw.” The twins look at each other and give a slight shrug.

“Did she eat lunch?” Sylus’s tone suggests that he could care less, despite having posed the question.

“She ate something while in the office, but it didn’t look like anything substantial. Oh, but she had a sandwich for dinner. She watched some TV – one of her comfort shows again – and scrolled on her phone while in bed. Did we miss anything?”

“I think that about covers it.”

Luke and Kieran sit in silence, waiting for Sylus’s dismissal. Said man continues to type away on his keyboard.

“Hey boss,” Kieran starts and immediately earns a “shut the fuck up” look from Luke. “We’ve been doing this for a year.”

“Which is fine,” Luke adds right after.  “We’re not complaining.”

“Right, we’re not complaining. But uhh,” Kieran continues. “How long do you expect for this to go on for?”

“As long as it needs to. You’re dismissed.”

Not long after the twins disappear from his view, he runs a hand through his silvery locks, frustration and tension evident in his strained tendons and veins. Sylus locks his computer and grabs the coat off his chair before sauntering down to his car many, many floors below where the parking garage is. But instead of walking towards his sports car, the one that had sat in a visitor spot of your apartment parking lot all those months ago, he makes his way to an unsuspecting black sedan, its brand common and inconspicuous. Without any need for a GPS, Sylus pulls out and drives to your apartment complex.

In the darkness of twilight and beneath the shadows of beechnut trees, he leans against the steering wheel and gazes up at your window, a luminescent yellow shimmering through the curtains. They haven’t been pulled completely shut, but there is nothing to see in the light regardless. The minutes that pass do not feel like time in any way as he sits in a somewhat meditative state, and the only thing that could snap him out of it is when your bedroom lights switch dark. In reality, fifteen minutes pass before he watches your shadow, then your figure, approach the windowpane.

Sylus takes the little time he has to observe you, to see if you appear any different than yesterday. Did you have a full meal? Was your research stressful? Were you making use of the money he had paid you before everything ended? Were you getting enough rest and nutrition?

When he can no longer see you, he falls back in his seat and lets out a heavy sigh, exhaustion weighing heavily on his eyes. Sylus starts his car and throws it in reverse, and he spends his twenty-minute drive home thinking about nothing but you, his cold, empty bed, and how maybe, as much as he wants to deny it on all fronts, you two were not meant to be. Yet he holds onto hope that he can defy that fate eventually, because whether you know it or not…

You will always be his.

[stevieschrodinger]

"No." Chrissy crosses her arms over her chest.

Eddie flops onto the bed dramatically, fucks it up, and slides onto the floor.

"But what about-"

"No."

"Chrissy-"

"No. This is it. This is your last chance. No fucking about, no forgiveness, no come back, you get that, right?"

"Yeah but they said that every other-"

"The label is ready to drop you."

"What?" Eddie screeches and climbs up off the floor. He's shirtless and sweaty, his hair half sicking up half sticking to his sweat. "They can't do that."

"They can. They will. The lawyers are already involved, Gareth's ready to walk away."

Eddie feels like he's just been slapped. Punched. Like he fell maybe, like that moment when you're nearly asleep but your body jolts you awake, a half remembered dream that you just tripped and went head first off the stage. "You're lying-" Chrissy doesn't lie, "Gareth. The guys, none of them would-" but he sees it now, sees it through unfortunately sober eyes. See's it in the look on Chrissy's face. Can look back at the half remembered drugged up haze of all the shit Eddie's gotten up to over the last two years. All the times he didn't show. All the times he pulled bullshit. All the times he staggered into practice, late and drunk. All the times he turned up high. All the times his therapist has made him talk through his mistakes, to own them, to be truthful with himself about his problems.

Eddie can't have a drink. He can't smoke anything or inject anything or shove anything up his nose. He has to deal with it. He has to see it. There's a mirror next to Chrissy, big and ornate, and overdone, just like everything else in the room. Drug addict Eddie decorated this room, black and red and gilt. Arrogant vampire chic. Eddie thought it was cool. Four months of rehab and therapy and he's come back to a bedroom he fucking hates. The godamn carpet is black; who even buys black carpet? The top of the dresser is a mirror; easier for the coke.

Eddie should have torn it all out already.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He doesn't even remember getting some of the tattoos he has. He's too thin, bony, sick looking. His skin is flush pink with rut and there's a wet patch where the head of his cock hangs heavy. Chrissy does not give a shit.

"Eddie, honey. They all would. They all will. This is what I've been telling you. They are done. One more slip, and that's it. Rehab said absolutely no emotional entanglements while you're vulnerable-"

"I am not fucking vulnerable-"

"Nothing at all that could undermine your progress. No Omega's Eddie, I mean it. No drugs. No rut suppressors, no hormones, no nothing. Eddie I have been through this place with a fine tooth comb, I swear to god there's not so much as a Tylenol in this whole building."

"But what if I get a headache?" Eddie asks, suddenly feeling pathetic and weak as a kitten.

"Steve will get you an ice pack."

Eddie blinks, "who the fuck is Steve?"

"He's here to help you through your rut-"

"You said no Omega-"

"He isn't. He's a Beta, and he's the best there is at this. He will feed you, he will nest with you, anything you need, he will get it for you, he will look after you, he will let you scent him until your rut is done-"

"But-"

"Beta scent is calming!" Chrissy talks over Eddie, "this is not a sex thing, you need to rub one out do not do it in front of Steve. Do not piss him off, do not push his boundaries, am I clear? The center highly recommended him for this, okay?"

Eddie rankles with irritation, with displeasure.

Chrissy's nose crinkles at the scent, "look, I chose Steve to reduce the risk okay, male Beta is about the safest person you can be with right now. You have been clean for nearly five months Eddie, please. I am begging you, not for me, for you, you will hate yourself for the rest of your life if you fuck this up again. And actually also for me because watching them rush you into intensive care I-" She stops, looks at the floor, "for me Eddie- I cannot watch you go through something like that again, okay? I am asking you as your friend, please."

The OD was stupid; but Eddie had it in his head he was immortal at the time. "Okay Chris. Okay."

"Good. Thank you. I...won't hug you right now though."

Eddie looks down at the tent he's pitching in his sweats, "that's fair."

Chrissy opens the bedroom door and leaves, there's a man standing there. Eddie's preference isn't men, and Chrissy knows that. Hell, Eddie would take an Alpha over a Beta, and Chrissy knows that too.

Eddie takes a deep breath. The voice of his therapist mutters something about judging people by their desirability. They've talked a lot about Eddie judging people; can this person provide drink, drugs, or a fuck? No? Then what's the point of them.

It's a hard thing to change, when that's been your worldview for years. Even so, Eddie cannot see the point of this man; so he shuts the door in his face.

Part Two

[quillcraftconquer]

TW: Angst (?), Divorce, little sad lol, WIP

John Price is a good dad.

When he’s home, he’s present. He changes diapers. He feeds the baby. He helps out with bath and bedtime routines. He’s up at every cry he hears.

But that’s not why you left him.

He’s a great dad.

Except he didn’t know what size diaper your son wore, or that he preferred to be bounced, not rocked. He didn’t know what time to give him his last bottle, or when to lay him down. It had only been six months since you had your son, and John was gone for over half of it. You knew he had to be busy, but fuck, you gave up everything, and it felt like he gave up nothing. You quit your job. You left the SAS. You stayed home. You took care of the baby. It wasn’t necessarily because you wanted to, either, but someone had to, and you knew John wouldn’t.

It ate at you that you knew John wouldn’t.

“I need help.” You begged him, and when he offered to have his sister or his mother stop by more often, you knew it was a lost cause. You didn’t want them. You wanted John.

You remember when you reached your breaking point. You laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling as you listened to your baby cry for over an hour.

John said “I’ve got it.”.

When you finally burst through the nursery door, eyes blazing as you watched John attempt to rock him, again, you snatched your son from John’s arms. Your son was hungry, a cry only someone who spent countless hours with him would recognize. You gritted your teeth in anger when John tried to take him back.

“I’ve got him”

“Give him to me”

“I can do it”

Finally, you remember your anger boiling over, screaming at John through hot tears that he couldn’t even change a fucking diaper without asking you what size, or how much to feed him, or that he liked to be bounced and not rocked.

You remember the grief that filled John’s eyes when you pushed him out of the nursery, slamming the door in his face as he stuttered. You remember laying the divorce papers and your ring on the counter the next day, packing a bag to take you and the baby to his sisters until he left for deployment again.

You remember every feeling that rushed into your heart when he left, leaving the signed papers on the countertop.

When you moved out, he was on deployment. When you FaceTimed him for the baby, he always ended the call with “I love you.”. You could still see the flash of gold on his hand in the video.

You refused to say it back.

On the rare occasions he did come home, your house was the first stop he made. You would always meet him at the door with your son to exchange him, knowing if you let him any further, he would fill the spaces in your home with memories of him.

Until today.

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. PLEASE READ AND LOOK UP DEFINITIONS OF WARNINGS FOR FURTHER CLARIFICATION. HUGE TW FOR THIS CHAPTER. CSA (only mentioned, not described), heavy angst, mentions of family death and family issues, fluff, panic attacks, showering together, and more prolly tbh

A/N: Conan gray is my bitch. Loosely inspired by this song because mf I don't got a Marylou and Jimmy irl </3

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P27: Feel Alive

“Baby?” 

Usually, the sweet pet name would make my stomach swirl with butterflies, but right now it doesn’t really feel like anything.

It’s been like this for days, and those days have felt like weeks, if not months. Numb. My brain, my heart, and every one of my senses has turned unresponsive—like some sort of plastic wrap suffocating me in my own skin that crawls with disgust everytime a slight memory of Baylen’s words about my dad echo in my head.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chris asks, walking around the corner of the couch before plopping down on the cushion next to me, his hand on my knee as his brows furrow. 

I can’t help but shift under his touch. The warmth of his hand doesn’t feel bad, it just feels off—like there’s some sort of rushing anxiety that all the memories of my dad touching me as a kid are gonna spontaneously come back to me at any given contact.

That’s how it works apparently. When Baylen had said everything, I felt something shift inside of me. It was like he unlocked a certain part of my brain that could remember feeling so confused as a child. 

Blurry memories and haunting scenes of the past made my bedroom unlivable. Baylen understood when I left and packed a bag. I’m not sure what the plan is for when my mom comes back home, but that would be a problem for later. 

“I’m just…” I shake my head, letting out a sigh as I let my eyes flutter shut. As my eyelashes brush against each other, it’s like I can see it—see more. 

And I hate it. 

I hate how uncomfortably clammy my skin starts to feel—I despise how big everything seems when I open my eyes to connect back to reality. 

And I see him—Chris. 

Staring at me with wide eyes full of concern, he tries to lean forward, his hand nearly touching my cheek. I shrink away from the touch. Chris’ face drops, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

The way his eyes drop to his lap makes something inside of me burn. My heart aches in my chest, my feet shifting on the ground as I find my body empty of any air—any relief. 

“I—” 

I can’t speak. The words tangle on my tongue, the sentence blanking in my mind as I feel my face grow unbearably warm. His eyes trace back up to mine, his lips tugged into a pout as he hesitantly squeezes my knee.

“I’m here, okay?” he mentions, licking over his lips as he shakes his head with worry etched in his features, “-I…I don’t know what to do or what would help, but I’m here. You are not alone.” 

The words are comforting. However, as they settle in my mind, I can’t help but feel some sort of twist in the bottom of my gut—an uncomfortable churn of anxiety as I repeat the four syllables in my head. 

He used to say that—my dad was always the one comforting me, holding me, codling me like he truly loved and cared about me. All the monsters under my bed scared me, I’d always ask to be tucked in, begging for him to stay until I fell asleep. 

But the real monster was in my bed. The real monster actually existed—the real monster is the one person I used to always associate with love. 

“Chris, this…this hurts.”

His face furrows at my statement. He holds his arms open, welcoming me in a hug. My body itches at the thought of feeling trapped, my head shaking with refusal as Chris’ face tugs into a pained expression. 

“I—’m sorry, just—tell me what’s going on, how…” he looks around the room, his tongue darting over his bottom lip as his gaze returns to me, “-how can I help? Your cheeks are pink, are you too hot?” 

My mouth opens, but only a stuttered huff of air escapes my lips. I don’t know what I feel, all I know is every inch of my body itches with some sort of sting and my skin is too tight. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, his voice pulling my eyes to focus on his face, “-let’s…c’mere, you’re burning up.” 

Chris gets up, standing and offering a hand towards me. I slide my fingers into his palm, flinching as I notice how sweaty I am, my throat dry as I try to take more breaths, but none of them are enough—every gasp of air is shallow no matter how hard I try. 

He drags us down the hallway, pulling us in front of the bathroom door before he looks at me with a hesitant expression. “We just…gotta—gotta cool you down. Why don’t you take a cold shower? I can—I’ll be on the other side of the curtain. I don’t want you to pass out, but…I…” His mouth opens and shuts. I nod my head, grasping into the material of his shirt that covers his chest as I lean on him. 

Everything is so hazy. My eyes won’t focus at all anymore, it’s impossible to see or hear anything. The only vessel to reality I have left is him. 

My hand clutches the material tighter as he shifts. I hear the slight sound of his voice drowned out in the back of my mind, failing at understanding his words as I feel his arm wrap around me, pulling me into the bathroom as my feet land on the cold tile floor.

It’s hard to focus, it’s hard to feel alive. All I know is that I feel his hands on me, guiding me into the porcelain bathtub before a cold rush of water washes over me. My soaked clothes are heavy. I feel my body slug down with exhaustion, hands around my waist tugging my back against something warm—his chest. 

And I can finally breathe. 

“-okay, okay, it’s—it’s gonna be okay, is this helping? Fuck, I know this is what Matt does, I don’t—baby, c’mon–”

The echo of Chris’ voice is finally coherent enough for me to comprehend. I let myself melt in his hold, clutching onto his wrists as he basically supports all of my weight. 

“Thank you,” I say, my voice shaking as I feel him let out a sigh of relief, “-it…helps.” My words are muttered, barely audible between the running water and ragged breaths. 

___

It had been awhile, enough time to recover from the panic attack. My throat is sore. The rushed gasps of air for so long made my vocal cords feel raw, but I wasn’t trying to speak. I was only relaxing, finally just breathing and letting that be enough. 

“Here,” Chris offers, holding his hand out for me to hold. I slide my fingers to slot between his own, smiling as he squeezes my hand, our palms pressed flush against each other as we continue walking down the cement path.

I’m not sure where we are. It’s some sort of park, one he drove us to, but it’s really pretty. There’s a lot of surrounding meadows, a tall hill, and some crowding trees around a statue of a woman holding a child up towards the sky.  

“Where are we?” I ask, my lips rolling together. I feel his hand squeeze mine a bit tighter, looking over to find him staring at me with a soft smile that makes my cheeks flush with a feathery warmth.

Wordlessly, Chris guides me further down the first path between the trees, passing the statute. As we round a corner, I feel my heart clench in my chest.

Headstones. 

We’re at a cemetery. And by the way Chris pulls my hand tighter and keeps walking with determination, I know it’s not just any graveyard. 

“Chris…?” I voice, my tongue swelling in my mouth as I swallow thickly. Our feet stop as he halts in front of two headstones, Nicolas etched in one of the blocks, Marylou engraved on the one sitting adjacent. 

“She would’ve loved you.” 

His words brush through the air like petals, the tingle of warmth spreading up my spine as I lean onto his shoulder, staring down at the gravestones in front of us. He clutches my hand closer, his own head resting on top of mine as we both stand and gaze down at the graves in front of us. 

“How do you know?” I ponder out loud, my face scrunching as I hear him let out an airy sigh. 

“I just…I just know. I’ve told her a lot about you.”

Oh.

Oh.

His answer creates some sort of cooling sensation in my chest—a relieving temperature from the burning ache radiating from my heart.

“I…I talk to her a lot still—especially about you, I—I’m worried,” he rasps, his jaw tightening against the crown of my head before I feel him shift. I look upward to see him staring directly at me. His gaze softens, his eyes squinted with a depressing emotion that makes my face flush. 

“This…this can’t be easy. I know your dad was all you really thought you had for family, but…” his eyes flicker between my own, he squeezes my hand a bit tighter as he stares directly into me, “-but my family is yours. My dad…Matt—even Trevor…they love you. You have family that would never lie to you or hurt you. You…” he licks over his lips, his throat bobbing as his face scrunches with emotion, “-you have people to mourn. Even if you’re never met them, I know in my soul that they love you. There’s…there’s family here for you,”

I feel a tear rush down my cheek. His words and his eyes make the world around us turn into a blurry void as I concentrate on him and him only. 

“-on every side—even beyond life, you have family waiting for you. “

Something about his words—something about the way he’s saying them…it makes it feel okay. 

I don’t need to be scared about dying. I don’t need to be fearful about living.

It’s enough for me to just breathe.

___

“Close your eyes, kid,” Matt directs, his voice echoing from in front of me as I feel Jimmy’s hands on my shoulders. Chris’ fingers are tangled between my own, his touch guiding me with direct as Jimmy nudges me forward. 

The slight creak of a door rings through the air. “Okay…take a look,” Jimmy states, shifting as lets one of his hands rest on my shoulder, a gentle pat of assurance making my eyes peep open. 

Oh. 

My. 

God. 

The room door open in front of us is Marylou’s old craft room, something I knew went untouched—but not anymore. 

Art supplies and random craft materials are gone—not a single one in sight. A twin bed is placed in front of the window, the bright sunlight gleaming in the room that smells of fresh cleaning fragrances. 

“I…what?” I voice, utterly astonished as I walk further into the room. 

All hands leave my body. My feet patter against the carpeted floor, my face laced with confusion as I let my eyes float around the newly transformed bedroom. 

“It’s for you,” Chris says. 

My body freezes as I stare at the three men. Matt nods his head up and down, affirming the statement further. I let my eyes shift to Jimmy. His face is covered with a gentle smile, one of his hands resting over his heart as he lets his head tilt slightly to the side. 

“You’re welcome here—your own room, your own space…hell—I’ll make ya bacon everyday,” Jimmy laughs, “-point is, this is your home too. Whatever you need, we’re here. I don’t gotta know everything, all I know is my home is always open to you.” 

My eyes water, my vision blurry as my bottom lip wobbles. “I…thank you,” I voice, my words cracked as I sniffle. 

The heavy tears brimming my lashline make it impossible to see. I feel arms wrap around me—then another pair, and another. 

They’re all hugging me. 

They’re all welcoming me.

Family is always associated with blood—but this is more than that, it’s deeper than that. 

It’s unconditional love. That’s not something anyone can just make or find, it’s something that’s formed in a soul—something indestructible in ways that make my heart feel like it’s healing. 

It makes me feel alive. 

[fratboyharrys-gf]

“𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝.” | 𝐇.𝐒.

Masterlist

SUMMARY: Y/N and Harry got into their first big argument as a married couple.

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 595

A/N: a small blurb for now while i get other things done ! please reblog and comment !! thank you <33

Y/N and Harry have been married for just a few months when they got into their first big fight as husband and wife. It was over something stupid and neither of them could even remember what it was about.

Y/N was very upset, so she grabbed her things and muttered something about her sleeping on the couch.

Harry laid down in bed, feeling worried about how this would affect their relationship. He knew they had never gone to bed mad at eachother.

After tossing and turning on the couch for almost an hour, Y/N heard Harry coming down the stairs. She knew he wanted to talk, but she really didn't want to.

She opened her eyes and saw him leaning against the doorframe as he rubbed his tired ones, then looked back at her.

"Can we talk, pretty girl?" Harry asked, his voice soft and tired. 

Y/N's stomach clenched at the sound of his voice. He sounded really sad.

"I don't really want to talk," she mumbled, her voice heavy with emotion.

"Please," Harry basically begged, taking a step closer to her. "I can't go to bed knowing you are upset with me."

Y/N felt herself waver. She hated fighting with him and she hated the thought of sleeping on the couch, or anywhere without him.

"I'm not upset with you. I just don't want to talk about it right now."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Fine. We can talk in the morning. Just please come back to bed, baby. I'm sorry."

"No. I'm sleeping on the couch. You'll be fine." She tried to hide the fact that she could feel her resolve weakening.

The look of desperation on his face made her feel bad, but what made her feel even worse, was when he dropped to his knees next to her on the hard, cold floor and said, "Please, baby. I'm sorry. I love you so much. Please come back to bed."

Y/N's heart ached as she looked at Harry's pleading face. She knew he was sorry, and she loved him more than anything in the world. Seeing him on his knees, practically begging her to forgive him, tugged at her heartstrings.

She let out a sigh, her resolve weakening further. "You don't play fair, do you?" she murmured.

Harry smiled weakly, feeling a small wave of relief wash over him. "No I don't. I just really don't want to spend the rest of the night without you next to me."

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, torn between her stubbornness and her love for him.

"Please, baby." He repeated.

Y/N looked at Harry's hopeful face and felt her resolve crumble completely. She could see the sincerity and love in his eyes, and she couldn't say no to him. 

With a huff, she sat up and muttered, "Fine. I'll come back to bed, but only because I love you."

She let out a small laugh in surprise when Harry scooped her up into his arms, carrying her up the stairs bridal style.

Once they reached the bedroom, Harry gently laid her down on the bed and crawled in next to her. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close to his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered into her hair. “I don’t want to fight with you ever again. Especially over something so stupid. I love you.” He planted a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you too.” She responded tiredly. They both fell asleep shortly after.

taglist: @nikkimartinez23 @elliedafish @meadowwitchpinklight @howling-wolf97 @carolinaastyles @carolinaskiiwi

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[karinab00bs]

Vacation

Karina x named reader

tags: smut, first crush, swearing, pool sex, rough sex, blow jobs, teasing, flirting, dirty talks, dirty jokes, dirty thoughts, hair-pulling, biting, begging

Karina hadn’t anticipated the long journey to visit her parents, who lived quite a distance away from her current work and living situation. However, seizing the opportunity of a rare two-week break, she arrived at their doorstep, suitcase in hand, greeted by the warm sun above. The familiarity of her childhood home flooded back as she climbed out of the taxi.

Deciding against informing her parents of her arrival, Karina didn’t want to inconvenience them if her holiday plans fell through last minute.

Her father's joyful face upon opening the door made the trip instantly worth it, enveloping her in a bear hug and leading her inside.

"Why didn’t you tell us you were coming!?" he exclaimed happily, guiding her to the kitchen where her mother was busy cooking.

Their much-awaited reunion was interrupted by a knock at the door just as they settled down for dinner.

“I’ll get it,” her mother insisted, giving Karina a quick squeeze before heading to the door.

“So pumpkin,” her father started, looking a bit disappointed, unable to resist using the old nickname.

“Your mother and I had booked to go away tomorrow, for our anniversary. But if you want us to cancel, we will,” he offered, but Karina quickly stopped him, not wanting them to change their plans for her.

“Don’t you dare cancel that! We can celebrate when you guys get back. I do have two weeks off,” she reassured her dad, who visibly relaxed.

Before he could respond, her mother returned with a man Karina didn't recognize at first. Then it hit her, that is her childhood friend.

“Karina, honey, you remember Ethan,” her mother smiled, introducing Ethan as he stepped forward, all charm and green eyes.

Suppressing her smile, Karina shook his hand, noticing the size of his hands with a silent observation. “Ethan Lee, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed, maintaining his hold on her hand. She watched as his tongue swiped across his lips, unable to look away.

Finally releasing her hand, Ethan cleared his throat and turned his attention to her father. “I was just coming over to ask if you wouldn’t mind me doing the pool tomorrow, rather than next week,” he asked respectfully. As Karina’s mother handed him a drink, he thanked her before returning his gaze to her father.

“Of course. Is everything okay?” her father inquired, still engrossed in his meal as Karina resumed her seat, observing the exchange.

“Yes, sir. Just made some plans for Sammy’s birthday; he’s back in town for the next few months,” Ethan explained proudly, giving her a subtle wink as he caught her watching him.

“Yes, all fine with me, but we won’t be here so you’ll be dealing with Karina here,” her dad remarked with a roll of his eyes. Karina playfully slapped his arm when he chuckled, unable to suppress the nostalgic smile that crept onto her lips. His deep chuckle reminded her of her childhood.

“I’m sure I can handle her,” Ethan grinned directly at her, while her mother distracted her father.

“We’ll see, Lee,” Karina smirked, swiftly changing the subject to avoid losing her composure.

”So, how is Sam anyway?” Karina inquired, turning in her seat to look up at him where he stood.

“He’s good, not so little anymore. Got a fiance and he’s a lawyer,” Ethan informed her proudly as she stood by the kitchen counter, refilling her drink.

“Always thought the two of you would end up together,” Ethan revealed, completely confusing her.

Hearing her mother laugh, Karina's eyes widened. “Oh no, this one here had a thing for his b-” her mother stopped abruptly, noticing Karina's flushed face and the way she was looking at her.

Before her mother could say anything else that Karina would regret ever telling her, she led Ethan to the front door, he laughed, willingly following her. That is until they reached the door frame; he stopped, turning to look down at her.

“So best friend, or big brother?” he smirked, his green eyes practically sparkling. Karina thought to herself, cocky son of a bitch.

“See you tomorrow, pool boy.”

“Are you gonna come keep me company, while I do a favor for your parents?” he asked cheekily, throwing an arm above his head to lean against the door frame.

“I might,” Karina shrugged off her answer, wishing that he didn’t still have this insane effect on her after all of these years, but she tried not to let him get to her.

“Wait, you mean that’s not your only job?” Karina asked mockingly. Ethan smirked when she stepped closer, shaking his head at her.

“Nope,” he winked, popping the 'p'.

“My job, my real job, involves me getting a lot dirtier,” he revealed, licking his lips when he noticed her staring. She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling the heat of his chest against hers.

“I’m a mechanic, sweetheart,” he added at her confused expression, and okay god, it got worse.

“R-Right, yeah. Makes sense,” she stuttered, and there were the nerves she remembered so well.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow then, sugar.”

“Yeah, sure,” Karina replied quietly, watching him walk away. He headed over to the car parked in the drive, the one that used to be his dad's.

Closing the door, Karina turned to find her mother behind her, quickly noticing just how sheepish she looked.

“I’m so sorry, baby! I completely forgot!” her mother rushed to explain, and all Karina could do was laugh it off.

“Stop it! I swear, it’s all fine! A little embarrassing admittedly, but still, it’s okay,” she assured her, pulling her into a hug. Her mother quickly relaxed against her, wrapping her in her arms.

She pulled back with a watery smile.

“I’m so glad you’re back, baby, we really missed you,” smiling, she cupped Karina's cheeks, like she was trying to memorize her face.

“I know, mom, let’s go eat.”

The night passed quickly, talk of the old days and how Karina was considering coming back home. Before she knew it, she was waving them away, watching the taxi disappear.

She looked at the time, swearing under her breath. Her dad had told her Ethan would be over in the next hour, and she really wanted a bath before he got here.

Taking a longer bath than she meant to, Karina left herself only ten minutes to slip into her new red bikini and shorts.

It was so hot outside, and she was determined to drive him crazy. He wanted to be all sexy; two could play at that game. She’d put up with it enough when she was younger, having a somewhat filthy crush on her best friend’s big brother was definitely not ideal.

She just about heard the knock at the door, which was quickly followed by the unmistakable noise of the doorbell. Heading downstairs after a quick glance in the mirror, taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

“Mornin’ Karina,” he winked, giving her an appreciative once over before walking past her into the house.

Closing the door behind him, Karina frowned.

“Really, Ethan, jeans? You are cleaning the pool, right? So why not wear shorts?” she questioned as she followed him into the back garden.

“I don’t do shorts, sweetheart. Why? Do you wanna see some more skin or somethin’?” he asked suggestively, unlocking the shed to get the things he needed. She didn’t see his face, but she was sure he was smirking to himself.

She scoffed at him, moving aside as he began pulling things out of the shed.

“No. I just wondered, it’s so damn hot today. Seems kinda odd weather for that,” she stated, nodding at his attire, brushing it off as easily as she could.

“Well, something is definitely hot” he grins, eyeing her shamelessly as he pulls off his shirt, hanging it on the back of the chair. “There, better?” he asks knowingly, a smug look on his face when Karina choke back a moan, almost swallowing her own tongue.

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he locks the shed door, leaving her to stare at his back.

The sunlight bounces off his tanned skin as he walks over to the pool with the equipment, and Karina realise that she never seen someone with so many muscles in their back. She can just imagine dragging your nails down it as he–

Karina manage to stop that train of thought before it gets out of hand. But she can’t stop herself from watching the very slight swing of his hips, how those jeans fit so snugly against his toned ass and legs, sitting perfectly on his hips.

All she can do is watch him walk away. Safe to say he gives as good as he gets.

Slightly bewildered, Karina follow him after a moment longer of staring, taking her seat on the sun lounger by the pool. She watch him work closely, seeing those muscles visibly rolling under his skin. He seems to be biting on his tongue as he concentrates on the job at hand. Something particularly stubborn makes his jaw tense.

Karina slip out of your shorts easily, letting them fall to the floor, she lay back, deciding to at least try and relax while Ethan works.

It wasn’t like she could stare at him all day, right?

A little while passes, the sun beating down on her is much needed. However, Karina’s sunbathing is interrupted by a large shadow, which completely blankets her body. Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand you open them, quickly meeting Ethan’s.

“You should probably put this on sweetheart.” He instructs firmly, holding out the sun cream to her.

Karina can’t help but notice the sweat that coats his skin, glistening in the sun, she pause reaching for the bottle with an idea in mind.

“Is that an offer, Lee?” Karina question sweetly as possible, crossing her legs at the knees as she run her fingers from the top of her thigh to her knee, acutely aware of the way his eyes are taking in her body.

He shrugs with a smug look on his face, “Sure, we can’t have you burning can we,”

Karina hum in approval rolling onto her front, she rest her head on her folded arms. Turning her head to watch as Ethan's kneels beside you.

“Such a gentleman.” Karina reply sarcastically, smiling against her arm when he chuckles.

The second his cream covered warm hands touch her skin goosebumps cover her body, she bite back a moan, a little unsuccessfully when his thumbs press into the muscles of her shoulders and around her shoulder blades. Pushing under the strap of Karina’s bikini top, where he’s so close to brushing the sides of her breasts.

Ethan's hands are so big, as they rub the cream into Karina’s skin it doesn’t take him long to reach the bottom of her spine.

Karina arch back into his touch even more, when his thumbs push just under the top of her swimming bottoms, fingers curling around the front of her hips, digging in but not quite the same way. After a few minutes he continues down her body, his touch remaining firm as he quickly does just under Karina’s ass cheeks. Spreading her legs a little as his hands move down her thighs, the perfect amount of pressure against every muscle.

Karina knows that she’s wet, this is without doubt the best massage she’s ever had and very unexpected, god she hope he can’t see it.

“Fuck.” Karina hear him grit out quietly, as his hands move down her calves.

Gently he taps Karina's ankle and clears his throat.

“Turn over, I’ll do the front.” Ethan rasps out, voice breaking a little with each word.

Swallowing hard, Karina as nervous as hell, but there is no way she's backing out now. He’d started this, she's weren’t about to stop him if he wanted to finish it.

Closing her eyes she turn onto her back, shielding her eyes with her arm.

Ethan starts on Karina's legs, the higher his hands get, the more her muscles tense and her pussy starts to flutter. His hands run along the line of her swimming pants, right in the crease of her groin.

The moan that slips past Karina's lips couldn’t have been stopped if she'd tried, she feel the wood creak beneath her as Ethan climbs between her legs on the sun lounger. His calloused hands rubbing cream into Karina’s stomach, fingertips slipping beneath the cups of her bikini top, running along the underside of her breasts.

Ethan leans over her further, and Karina feel his hard cock brush against her thigh as he takes her arms, rubbing the cream in. Karina finally dare to blink open her eyes, the wild beating of her heart and the blood rushing in her ears are unbearable.

Biting into her lip when her eyes meet his again, Karina watch him squirt more cream onto his palms, before placing the bottle on the table.

Ethan's hands move over Karina's chest slowly, pushing the straps down her shoulders, she tilt her head back when he rubs the cream into her neck, his hand resting on her throat as he leans in closer.

“Ain’t even been swimmin’ yet and your panties are soaked.” Ethan groans, moving in closer still, but she stop him before he gets too close, resting her hand on his bare chest.

Pushing him back gently, watching the way he sits back on his feet, eyes completely focused on her as she sit up. Karina slip out from beneath him, smiling at the look on his face.

“Better make sure you’ve done your job properly.” Karina smile seductively, loving the way he watches her as she make her way over to the pool.

When Karina reach the steps she turn to find him standing from the sun lounger. Clearing his throat he rearranges himself in his jeans, but the thick line of his cock is still clearly visible, he quickly focuses those green eyes back on her.

“You coming, pool boy?” Karina ask cheekily, as she lower yourself into the cool water, watching the smirk that appears on his plump lips.

“You remember that I’m older than you, right? More like the pool man,” Ethan quips, undoing his belt and leather slaps against leather. Leaning against the pool’s edge as Karina's chin resting on her arms and she look up at him.

Just in time to watch him pop the button of his jeans and pull down the zipper.

“Guess you’ve got me there. So, since you don’t like shorts, are you wearing boxers?” Karina ask curiously, trying but failing to hide her smile.

Ethan laughs at that, dropping his jeans and pulling them off his legs, “Normally you would’ve been right, but on this occasion” he leaves the reply hanging in the air. Letting Karina's eyes drop with his jeans, she couldn’t even be disappointed that he was still wearing boxers. Not since the sizeable bulge was still very much present and accounted for, even more visible in the thin fabric.

Sitting down on the side of the pool Ethan's legs dangle in the water, his ass right on the very edge. Karina swimming over to him and stand between his open legs. Looking up at his face as she rest her hands on his thick thighs.

“So what’s the verdict sweetheart, did I do a good enough job?” Ethan questions leaning back on his hands, grunting in surprise when Karina’s breasts brush against the bulge in Ethan pants.

“Not too bad, for a part timer.” Karina giggle watching the comical eye roll he gives her. The image of him in overalls and covered in grease hits her. Karina almost certain he would look even better dirty than he does clean, which is saying something.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing just how good you are at your real job though, see how dirty you get.” Karina reveal, chewing on her bottom lip as her hands slip into the legs of Ethan boxers. Ethan hisses at the sting of the pain, when her nails sink into the tops of his thighs, his rock hard length laying untouched between them.

“You should come down the garage some time, I’ll show you just how dirty I get” Ethan grunts through gritted teeth.

Licking her lips, Karina hum appreciatively, “I’d really like that.” She admit, dragging her nails back down Ethan's thighs, feeling his muscles tense beneath her touch. Leaning up against the pool’s side on her elbows, Karina tuck her fingers into the sides of his boxer shorts.

Ethan seems to be nervous as he looks around the garden, like he’s expecting someone to pop out.

“Everything okay, Ethan? You look nervous.” Karina acknowledge cheekily, as he debates lifting his ass for literally a second, seeming to ignore any doubts he has he finally lets her tug the boxers down, over his ass and down those strong bow legs.

Karina watch Ethan's Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he glances around one more time. Then he focuses back on her, as her small hand wraps around his cock. That perfect green of his eyes has almost completely been swallowed by the black of his pupils when his eyes meet hers again.

Ethan shifts where he sits, trying to wiggle closer to Karina when she start to move her hand up and down his thick length. Karina other hand rests on his strong thigh, helping her keep her balance. Karina lean forward, licking her lips, hearing Ethan swear under his breath when her lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock. Running her tongue over his slit, moaning when the taste of his pre-come hits her tongue for the first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart that’s it,” Ethan groans, tossing his head back, hand fisting in Karina's hair as she take him further into her mouth, Karina's tongue pressing to the underside of his cock.

Karina love the way his hand tightens in her hair, short nails that dig into her scalp.

Karina's hands are now resting on both his thighs, as his cock bumps against the back of her throat. Ethan thrusts his hips, letting himself go a little, she watch him, almost positive there has never been a sexier sight in the world. The speed in which he snaps his hips causes her to gag a little. But even after his surprised gasp, Karina continue when his hips stop moving, letting her take the control back.

Karina continue to take him as deep as she can, saliva leaking from the corners of her lips. Nails sinking into his thighs when she swallow around his cock. Then it slips into her throat briefly and Ethan can’t stop the choked out whine that slips past his perfect lips at her actions.

Ethan's tugging on Karina's hair becomes more insistent, she finally relent, gasping for air when his cock is popped from between her lips, smacking back against his stomach.

Karina's pussy is still throbbing almost painfully, she look up at him and lick her lips, with her most seductive smile she step back, further into the pool, beckoning him towards her with a single finger.

Taking a moment to catch his breath he watches her, reminding her somewhat of a tiger ready to pounce on their meal.

Then all the air gets stuck in Karina's throat and she have to fight not to choke on it, when Ethan slips into the pool, skin still slick with sweat and he looks like a male model. He’s fucking stunning, slipping beneath the water briefly, he reemerges, running a hand through his now dripping wet hair as he walks towards her slowly, Karina suddenly not sure if she even remember how to speak.

The confidence from before is slipping and she sure that he can see it, which is made clearer when the corner of his mouth curves into a half smirk. Clearly someone catching the two of them was the last thing he was worried about now.

Crowding Karina back against the pool’s edge, Ethan presses himself close to her, resting a hand on the edge behind her, while his other hand tucks some wayward hair behind her ear.

Leaning in closer his nose nudges hers, hot breath fanning across Karina's lips, and she finally manage to swallow the lump in her throat.

“How’re you still so nervous about kissing me, sweetheart? With what this perfect little mouth just did, felt fuckin’ incredible wrapped around my cock”

Ethan pauses to let his thumb brush over Karina's parted lips, she lick her lips as his hand moves down slowly and he captures her chin. “I still remember that time at that end of year house party, the one which you and Sammy snuck into” he smirks, causing her to suck in a breath when his free hand grips her ass roughly, pulling her closer to him.

Karina blushed like crazy at the mention of that night, “You were drunk off your ass Ethan, I didn’t b-” Karina cut off by Ethan plump lips pressing against hers in a demanding kiss, his big hand cups her neck, thumb pressing into her jaw as he angles her head right were he wants it.

It takes her mind a moment to catch up with her body but she finally breathe, relaxing into the kiss. Ethan's free hand moves behind Karina's back, tugging the ties of her bikini top until it falls loose and Ethan tosses it away. Moving those big warm hands down Karina's body Ethan cups her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples with his rough fingers and thumbs.

Karina's lips part at the same time as Ethan's, her tongues effortlessly moving together. As Ethan pulls back she capture his bottom lip between her teeth, delighting in the groan that bubbles up in his throat. He doesn’t stop there, kissing and nipping his way down her neck, sucking marks into her soft skin.

“You believe me now?” He all but growls against her ear, she nod quickly, tugging at the strings of her bikini bottoms, pulling them loose.

Ethan pulls away from Karina's neck, finally meeting her eyes again, his wet hair spiked up in all sorts of directions from the pair of her carding her hands through it. Water still clings to his eyelashes, dropping from the tip of his nose, water droplets rolling down his chest distracting her a little.

“Yes Ethan, I believe you.” Karina answer obediently, taking his hand and positioning it between her own thighs.

Ethan looks down the very small gap remaining between the two of them, sliding two fingers between Karina's folds, she grab at his shoulders when those fingers push inside her. Karina's walls stretch around his fingers, one of her hands falls from his shoulder, dropping beneath the water she wrap her small fingers around his thick cock.

Karina's forehead drops against his, panting breaths begin to mix together. Hitching a leg over his hip Karina rock against his fingers, feeling his cock pressing into her thigh.

“You want my cock in your pretty pussy baby? You wanna fuck the pool guy, like a dirty little girl?”

“Jesus Ethan,” Karina moan as his filthy words wash over her. No guy had ever spoken to Karina like this before and there was no denying that she were loving it, but she don’t have a clue about how to respond to him. “Not so worried about the neighbours seeing us now then?” Karina question breathlessly, as Ethan carefully pulls his fingers out with a final tap against her clit.

“Fuck it, let ‘em watch.” Ethan grits out when Karina release his cock. Karina running her hands up his chest then grip his broad shoulders, using them to balance when he roughly grabs her ass and squeezes, she jump a little, hooking her other leg over his free hip.

As Karina rocking her hips, Ethan’s thick cock easily slides against her slick pussy, nudging between her folds he repeatedly taps against her clit, she can’t help but whimper, clinging to his broad shoulders.

Pausing for a moment Ethan lifts Karina higher, “You ready sweetheart. C’mon talk to me? You want my cock baby?” Ethan questions huskily smirking when Karina bite her lip, his thighs shaking trying to resist the urge to just snap his hips forward.

Karina moan pushing her ass harder into his hands, hoping that he’ll give her what she need. Ethan lines up with her entrance, so that the head of his cock nudges teasingly against her opening and she meet his darkened green eyes.

“C’mon pool boy, show me what you’ve got.”

A long drawn out moan leaves Karina lips when Ethan finally breaks, slowly lowering her onto his hard cock. Clenching his jaw, veins becoming more visible in his neck as he enters her slowly inch by tortuous inch.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Ethn groans dropping his head forward, so that he can suck and bite marks into Karina's neck. Karina cling to him, curses and whimpered plea’s leaving her lips.

Tugging on Ethan’s hair harshly Karina force him to look up at her.

“Fuck! I need it Ethan, please!” Karina begging but she don’t care, because the words are barely out of her mouth before Ethan gives her what she need, snapping his hips forward, filling her in one blissfully hard thrust.

Ethan's fingers are digging into Karina's ass when he starts thrusting, the movements slow and rough but precise, hitting her g-spot on every movement. Karina's feet dig into his ass, water splashing around them with every powerful movement.

“You feel so good baby, shit.” Ethan pants breathlessly, pulling his head away from Karina's neck and his gorgeous green eyes lock onto hers. Karina pushing her hands into the back of his hair as she kiss him, tongue meeting his and messy uncontrolled kiss, angling her hips just right she start to rise and fall on his cock.

Breaking apart only when she feel her pussy beginning to clamp down around his thick length.

“Ethan.. please I’m g-gonna come..” Karina gasp out as she begin to lose her rhythm.

“Fuck, C’mon baby give it to me. Come all over my fucking cock!” Ethan practically snarls low in his chest.

Karina hooking legs over his arms a squeak of surprise leaving her lips when Ethan starts fucking up into her more faster. He’s so deep, it’s like a fire is building in her stomach.

Karina cling to him, his rough movements cause the water to create waves around her. Ethan feels so fucking good that Karina barely notice, she drop her face into the crook of his neck, hot breath fanning against his skin. Sucking and biting marks everywhere she can reach, then out of nowhere Karina orgasm hits her full force, causing her eyes to roll almost painfully, she have to sink her teeth into his shoulder to stop herself from screaming his name.

Ethan hisses as the pain throbs against his skin, carefully he lowers her legs letting her feet touch the floor again. Feeling a little dazed, Karina run her fingers along the bite mark on Ethan's skin, she can’t help but wince a little.

“I’m sorry pool boy, got you all marked up.” Karina giggle lightly, biting into her bottom lip when those eyes turn on her again.

A growl bubbles up in Ethan's throat, he spins her in his hold; roughly pressing Karina into the side of the pool, his chest pressed tightly against her back. Karina spread her legs as his lips press against her ear.

“Oh you wanna see marked up sweetheart, I’ll show you.” Ethan snaps harshly, causing Karina skin to practically buzz as he drags his teeth over her earlobe, those big hands spread her ass cheeks and his cock nudges at her slick entrance again.

“I’ll give you fuckin’ pool boy.” Ethan grunts as he pushes inside Karina in one thrust and bottoms out, muffling her screaming moan with his hand.

Karina fall over the side of the pool with a whimper when Ethan releases her mouth, grip tight and unyielding on her hips. His thrusts are nothing like they’d been before and she can’t get enough, the water sloshes over the edge of the pool as Ethan’s hips bounce off her ass with every brutal thrust he delivers.

“You’re so deep.. Fuck! Feels so good Ethan,” Karina cry out loudly, completely giving up on keeping her voice down, Karina push her ass back meeting his thrusts the best that she can.

“Shit, Karina! I’m gonna come.” Ethan grits out as his hips begin to stutter. His big hands move further over the curves of Karina body, wrapping those talented fingers around her ribs, and she sure that bruises will form there the same way they were beginning to on her hips.

Ethan shifts so that his knees are resting on the ledge between Karina legs, leaning over her so his body is almost draped on top of hers.

“Give it to me Ethan! Please, I need it! Don’t stop.” The words leave Karina lips without her really thinking, nobody has ever had her this wound up and ready to snap, not this fast and definitely not for a second time.

Pushing a hand between her legs Ethan rubs rough circles around Karina clit, forcing her orgasm forward, It’s practically bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Squeezing her eyes shut Karina feel her thighs start to shake. Ethan stills behind her, a broken moan leaving his plump lips when he finally comes, her pussy clamps down on his cock as he spills inside her.

His fingers and hips keep moving, his hands feel like they’re everywhere. Karina can’t take it anymore, she gasp his name and with a final rough thrust of his hips pushing her into the side of the pool, she fall apart around him all over again.

Karina shivering as her body collapses against the cold stone in front of her, Ethan's sweaty forehead drops to the bottom of her back, his soft lips pressing kisses into her skin waiting for her to come down.

Karina breathing finally slows down and Ethan helps you down, back into the water, he turns Karina in his arms. “Fuck that was the sexiest thing that’s ever happened.” Ethan grins happily, pulling her body against his as he kisses her, she melt against his lips.

Smiling when she pull away, she push the wet hair from his forehead.

“Think we’ll be remembering this for a few weeks.” Karina giggle, running her fingers gently over the marks on his skin, as his fingers skim across the bruises he’d left behind on her body.

Biting his lip his eyes move across Karina body, still standing so close to his own.

“Oh yeah sweetheart, I’d say so.”

“Trouble is Mr pool man, you’ve definitely got more work to do.”

Ethan rolls his eyes, but she can see the smile that’s curling at the corners of his lips, when he dangles her bikini bottoms from his finger, right in front of her face.

“Oh you ain’t gettin’ out of this one young lady.”

Karina squeal as he tosses the bottoms aside and throws her backwards, she land in the water with a splash. Karina re-emerge from the water, gasping for breath and glare right at Ethan.

“Oh you’re so fucking dead, Lee!”