#as he’s pulling out to leave another woman walks by and his gaze lingers on her just a little longer

[grugruel]

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With no further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawn out orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they ached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she can not reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms beneath his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her, athird orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," he admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

[rainydayathogwarts]

A motherly visit - son!harry potter

summary: when harry sends you another owl claiming that professor snape has it out for him, you decide to pay them a short visit wc: 1.5k+

Irritation flooded through yours veins, your eye nearly twitching with annoyance as you read through Harry’s letter. Once again, your son had been unfairly treated by his Potions teacher, graded lower on his exams and essays than he deserved. Your chair scraped loudly on the floor of your potions lab as you pushed it out from under your desk, grabbing your coat as you made your way to the fireplace in your office.

You wiped down your clean hands on the soft fabric of your coat before grabbing a handful of floo powder and travelling to Professor McGonagall’s office. As the green flames died away, revealing your confident stance, Professor McGonagall blinked slowly, only mildly surprised to find you in her office. “I need to find my son so we can have a chat with Professor Snape.” The older woman opened her mouth to reply, but you were already walking out of her office. She sighed, leaving you to your own devices in the rogue hallways of the Hogwarts castle.

Luckily for you, a loud call of “Mum!” had you stopping in your tracks and spinning on the balls of your feet to see Harry jogging towards you, his book bag flapping uncontrollably at his side. Harry gripped the strap of his back, holding it snugly against his jumper clad chest as he ran towards you with a smile. Ron and Hermione immediately quickened their pace to catch up with their friend, who threw his arms out to engulf you in a tight hug.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You mumbled, lips pressed against Harry’s forehead as you wrapped your arms around him. “What are you doing here?” He questioned excitedly, adjusting his glasses in a way that instantly reminded you of your husband. “I got your letter.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “I sent you that like an hour ago!”

“And I’m sick of hearing about how your incompetent Professor keeps poorly grading your papers, which I know deserve higher grades on.” You huffed angrily, putting both your hands on your hips. “You have your papers on you, don’t you?” Harry nodded, immediately ruffling through his book bag. You winced at the sight of loose papers in the bag but looked away, instead busying yourself by greeting your son’s two best friends. Harry made a noise of achievement as he pulled out two separate stacks of papers, presenting them to you with a smile. You scanned through them quickly as he explained “That’s my essay on the uses of mandrake plants in advanced potion making, and then that’s our most recent end of unit test.” “Well, come along then, Harry.”

“Mum, I’ve got a lesson now.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure your Professor will understand I’m on a time crunch.” Your heels clicked loudly against the concrete floors, heads of students turning to look at you curiously. That would probably be one of two reasons: 1. You were a parent who had no business currently being at Hogwarts. 2. You were the most successful potioneer of your generation, specialising in poisons and their remedies, with a success so prominent that every potions student in Year 5 and above stared at your name on the cover of their potions textbooks every time they used it.

The chilly atmosphere of the dungeon welcomed you as you made a beeline to the potions classroom. Harry’s thoughts were racing as he tried predicting what you were going to tell Professor Snape, holding your son’s exam papers in hand.

Luckily for you, Snape had just exited his classroom, opening his mouth to let his students into the dark room, when he spotted you. His eyes were immediately clouded with annoyance, but something else lingered in his gaze. “Snape,” You started, glancing at the group of students waiting to be called into their classrooms. “I suggest you give your students a free period. We have things to discuss.” You didn’t wait for Snape to respond, pushing past him to walk into his classroom. You settled your things down on a table near Snape’s desk, standing up behind the uncomfortable stools. “Take a seat, sweetheart.” Harry smiled gently as you returned your gaze to him, eyes softening as they took him in. You pushed a rogue strand of hair away from his face before turning around to meet Snape’s eye as he trudged towards you.

“You realise it’s been almost twenty years, right?” Harry wasn’t expecting those to be your first words. “So I suggest you get over your little crush on me and your hatred towards my husband, because my son is facing the consequences of your feelings.” Harry gasped at the revelation, his eyes wide with shock. He pursed his lips suddenly to suppress his laughter.

Snape hated him because he was jealous of Harry’s father?

You turned over Harry’s papers to face the Professor. “Look me in the eye and tell me you believe these deserve a Poor.” Snape looked up, making solid eye contact with you, though he didn’t say anything. “Y/N-” “It’s Mrs. Potter to you, Snape.”

The long-haired Professor inhaled deeply. “Mrs. Potter, I strongly believe that your son’s papers deserve the grades they were awarded.” You hummed, entirely unconvinced. Pushing Harry’s essay to the side, you flipped his exam paper open. “Then we seriously need to question your teaching. Green pen, please.” Snape grumbled quietly as he stood up walking to his desk to retrieve a green pen for you, placing it in your extended hand.

“Let’s see.” You spoke under your breath, moving around the table to stand next to Snape. The next few minutes were dreadfully tense for Harry, watching as Snape spent most of the time looking at the side of your face rather than the paper, where you were adding small check marks next to Harry’s answers. When you reached the end of the paper, you flicked back to the beginning, counting the marks in a quiet whisper.

“You’ve given my son an 18/50. The mark he should have gotten is a 39. Not an outstanding by any means, but still two entire grades above the one you gave him.” Harry swallowed thickly as you spoke, crossing your arms over your chest whilst you stared down Professor Snape.

“Keep up with this prejudice against my son and I promise, you will come out of a job.” Snape scoffed, finally saying “You act as though anyone will take your word over mine.” Your genuine laugh surprised Harry. “You can stop pretending you think they’ll choose you over me. We both know Professor Dumbledore has been begging me to take this position for, what, four years now?” All colour drained from Professor Snape’s face as you revealed that information. You walked around the hopeless professor to place a hand on your son’s shoulder.

“Who knows, maybe next year I’ll take his offer?” You leaned closer to Professor Snape, bringing your voice down to a whisper. “If I don’t hear that you’ve changed my son’s grade by tomorrow, I promise, worse things will happen to you than losing your job." You straightened up, clearing your throat before adding "Who knows, maybe I’ll even send my husband to visit you.”

Harry revelled in the way Snape shuddered at the mention of his father. He didn’t bother hiding his smile at Snape’s reaction to your friendly threat, holding his hand out for you to hold as you gathered your things. You took Harry’s hand, guiding him out of the room with a satisfied smile. “Is it true they asked you to come work here?” You nodded with a hum.

“Why didn’t you take the offer?” You turned to look at Harry’s hopeful eyes, furrowing your eyebrows. “I didn’t want to be invasive. I mean, I know for a fact I wouldn’t have wanted my parents to hear every rumour that was spread, or know every time I got into trouble. That would be inevitable if I worked here, and, you know, I want you to have some freedom.”

“Well, what if you came next year?” You stopped in your tracks at Harry’s question, turning to look at him properly. “You know, it’ll be my last year, so I’d have had my freedom, and you’ll be a great teacher for everyone. And I guess it would be nice having you around.” Harry’s cheeks were flushed pink and your heart warmed as you realised the true reason for his request. He missed you and his dad.

“Okay.”

“Okay!?” Harry jumped up at your agreement, laughing joyously. “But!” “But?” Harry echoed, sounding slightly horrified. “I’ll still live at home. I won’t stay here overnight like some Professors do. We’re just one apparation from home anyway. But I guess I’ll stay here until late afternoon if I have to mark papers.” Harry grinned, throwing his arms around your shoulders to bring you into a tight hug. You laughed, eyes widening as you realised he was looming over you despite the heels you wore. “Harry, honey, you are getting too tall.” The boy shrugged as he let go of you. “Madame Pomfrey said I’m still growing. I’ve still got a couple of inches ‘til I catch up to dad anyway.”

“He won’t be too happy about that, but the two of you can argue about it at dinner tomorrow, yeah? I’ll send McGonagall an owl to let her know. Just come by using floo.”

“Ooh and can we play a game of Quidditch after?”

“Only if you’re willing to lose.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @boromoony, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin

[flwrstqr]

⌇ THE BOY 𝓲S MiNE : AGENT ENHYPEN ──𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋

( ✶ 𝓢) ⦂ 엔하이픈 + f ! r . 1OOOwc. ──kissing, skinship, petnames && agent au ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀fluff, slightly suggestive 𖥔 ARCHiVE⠀ ૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა

danielle msgs： agent enhypen is my life (> <)

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 he leans against the wall, his dark suit slightly wrinkled from the mission, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he watches you patch up a scratch on your arm. "careful, princess, wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours," he teases. you glare at him, your fingers fumbling with the bandage as his presence looms closer. “you could help instead of just standing there,” you snap, and he chuckles, stepping into your space, his hands brushing yours as he takes over. “relax, doll, i got you,” he murmurs, his touch lingering a little too long. your breath hitches as his fingers trace your wrist, and he tilts his head. “you okay? you’re staring,” he smirks, and you scoff, pushing him away, your pulse racing. “shut up, heeseung.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 he leans against the sleek black car, his tie loosened and hair slightly disheveled from the mission. "you gonna keep me waiting, sweetheart?" he drawls, a teasing tone in his voice as you walk up, rolling your eyes. "not everyone can look like they just stepped out of a magazine after getting shot at," you quip, but your words falter as he steps closer, brushing an imaginary speck off your shoulder. "relax, i’m just making sure my partner’s looking sharp," he murmurs, his fingers lingering as they smooth down your sleeve. the proximity sends a flush creeping up your neck, and he notices, smirking. "you’re cute when you’re flustered," he says, low and soft, his hand brushing your waist as he leans in, a little too close. "jay," you warn. he pulls back with a chuckle, holding up his hands. "easy, angel, i’m just messing with you."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 your eyes narrow as jake leans casually against the bar, his signature smile in full effect as he charms yet another woman at the gala. you’re supposed to be blending in as a couple, but instead, he’s working his way through every pretty face in the room. “you know,” he murmurs, sliding up beside you moments later, his cologne lingering as he leans down, “you could at least pretend you’re jealous. makes us more believable.” his voice is low, teasing, as his hand brushes your waist like it belongs there. you roll your eyes. “jake,” you hiss, gripping his arm and pulling him closer, “shut up and let’s go back to the mission.” his grin doesn’t falter. “anything for you, sweetheart.” his laugh is soft as he lets you tug him away, clearly enjoying himself.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 you barely have time to react before sunghoon grabs your wrist and yanks you into a dark corner, his hand firm around your waist as he presses you against the wall. "what the hell, sunghoon—" you start, but he quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, leaning in close. "shh," he whispers, his breath brushing your cheek, "unless you want us both caught." your glare could burn a hole through him, and he smirks, removing his hand but keeping you pinned. "you could’ve just warned me," you hiss, your voice barely above a whisper. "where’s the fun in that?" he teases, his eyes dropping to your lips. "you’re impossible-" you mutter, about to push him away, but before you can, his lips crash onto yours, silencing you. it’s quick, enough to leave you stunned, and when he pulls back, he smirks. "worked, didn’t it?"

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 sunoo’s hand rests lightly on your waist as he leans closer, his soft lips brushing your ear like a whisper. “darling, they’re watching,” he murmurs. your heart skips as he cups your cheek, his thumb grazing your jawline. “relax, love, you look too tense for someone so used to this game.” his voice is honeyed, his gaze holding a teasing glint that makes it hard to focus on the crowd scanning the "power couple." when his lips graze your temple, you shiver. “sunoo,” you warn, barely above a breath, but he only chuckles. “what? just making sure they believe us,” he whispers, his grin widening. it’s impossible to tell if the blush creeping up your neck is part of his plan—or his charm.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 "you could’ve told me your shoes were killing you, sweetheart," jungwon murmurs, crouched at your feet as the orchestra’s music swirls around the grand ballroom. you feel the heat rush to your cheeks when his fingers brush your ankle, undoing the straps of your stiletto. “i was trying to blend in,” you mumble, biting back a wince as he pulls off the heel. jungwon chuckles, standing to his full height and offering you his hand, his dark suit perfectly tailored and somehow making him even more annoyingly attractive. “blend in? with the way everyone’s been staring at you? not a chance.” before you can retort, he sweeps you off your feet, cradling you against his chest. “won—!” you squeak, but his grin is downright smug. “relax, princess. i’ve got you.” and as the two of you glide past stunned onlookers, he whispers, “forget the mission anyways."

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 "you're unbelievable," you mutter, fingers flying over the keyboard as you hack into the system, riki lounging behind you like he’s got all the time in the world. “move faster, sweetheart,” he drawls, the nickname dripping with teasing. you whirl around to glare at him, miscalculating your movement, and suddenly you’re tumbling—right onto his chest. his arms wrap around you instinctively, holding you steady as his grin widens. “if you wanted to be on top of me, angel, you could’ve just said so,” he quips, voice low. “shut up, nishimura,” you snap, but your cheeks are flaming as his hands linger at your waist. “admit it, you love being this close to me,” he whispers, and despite your best glare, the way your heart races gives you away.

[heavenlybodies333]

That Attitude’s Gonna Get You Fucked - A.H

Aaron Hotchner x coworker!reader | secret relationship |

You always knew better than to poke the bear. But Aaron Hotchner, in all his quiet, commanding control, made it impossible not to.

You’d worked at the BAU for three years, joined the team right after an impressive stint in VICAP, and very quickly realized that your biggest weakness wasn’t the killers—it was Hotch.

You walked into the precinct—another missing woman, twenty-three, last seen leaving a bar just off campus. You watched Hotch pace behind the glass wall of the makeshift conference room, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled to his elbows, brow drawn like he was physically restraining the storm he lived with daily.

You leaned against the doorframe, letting your gaze linger. “You know, boss, if you walk another lap you’re going to wear a groove into the laminate.”

Hotch barely glanced up. “You’re ten minutes late.”

You smirked. “You’re lucky I’m here at all. You didn’t text me good morning.”

“Don’t start.”

“What, me? I’m just observing. It’s what profilers do.”

“Behave yourself, agent.” He answered sternly, shooting you a warning glare.

You leaned in, voice just for him. “Careful, Aaron. If you keep scolding me like that, people might think we’re sleeping together.”

He stepped close. Too close. Close enough that you could smell the ghost of his cologne—clean and understated like him. “I told you—when we’re in the field, it’s work.”

“But that’s what makes it fun.” You arched an eyebrow, lips curling with the threat of a grin. “Don’t you like the thrill, Hotch?”

The room behind you filled with movement—Spencer rattling off victimology, JJ handing out files. You both turned back into character instantly. You were just another profiler, and Hotch was your boss. Nothing more.

“Focus,” Hotch said as you slid into the chair beside him, your thigh brushing his. Spencer launched into his profile: “The unsub is likely in his mid-thirties, a disorganized killer who targets women that resemble—”

“So, what are we thinking? Some kind of purity fixation? Religious overtone?” Hotch was sitting so close, his knee bumped yours beneath the table. You didn’t move.

“Don’t speculate until we’ve reviewed all the evidence,” Hotch shot back immediately, not looking at you.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “She’s not wrong, Hotch. That positioning—”

“I didn’t say she was wrong. I said we don’t jump to conclusions.”

The team shifted awkwardly. You tilted your head at him, goading. “So, we’re ignoring logic now? Or just my logic?”

Rossi looked between the two of you, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Well. This isn’t tense at all.”

“Enough,” Hotch snapped, his gaze cutting to you. “If you have something useful to add, say it. If not, drop it.” You held his stare, pulse spiking, before rolling your eyes and looking away.

JJ cleared her throat. “Maybe we should just… hit the field.”

You were paired with Hotch to re-interview the family of the third victim. He didn’t speak to you in the car. Not a word. Not even when you fiddled with the AC just to piss him off. He kept his eyes on the road, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap.

“You’re mad,” you finally said, “but Jesus, Aaron. You couldn’t wait five minutes before pulling the power trip in front of the team?”

“I warned you about undermining me.”

“You warned me not to think for myself,” you countered. “And if you want a lapdog, I suggest you start recruiting from the Academy.”

He didn’t look over. “I’m working.” Hotch exhaled slowly. “You disobey me in front of the team again, and I will bench you.”

That pulled a genuine laugh from you. “Wow. You ever try dirty talk that harsh in bed? Or just save it for morning briefs?”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “You don’t get to blur lines in front of the team. We talked about this.”

“Oh, is that what that was? I thought it was pillow talk after you came on my stomach and told me I was the only one who made you forget the rest of the damn world.”

“I am your superior.”

“And I’m not your subordinate when your mouth is on my neck at 3 a.m.,” you said flatly.

His eyes darkened. “That’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” You finally turned to face him. “You want to act like we’re nothing during the day, but when we’re alone—”

“This is the job,” he interrupted. “We don’t let it get in the way.”

“No,” you snapped. “You don’t let it exist.”

Silence stretched between you.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I, Aaron,” you snapped, voice suddenly tight. “I’m not just a fucktoy for your off-hours. I’m your partner in the field, and I know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t act like it.”

You turned your face to the window, jaw set. “Then maybe you should find someone easier to control.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. The air was thick with everything unsaid.

Later that day: Hotch gave orders to wrap it for the night and debrief in the morning. You don’t say much. You don’t need to.

You know exactly where you’re going when the others turn in for the night. You knock once on his door. Room 117. The numbers are already burned into your memory like the rest of him.

He opens it shirtless. “Problem, Agent?” he asks, voice casual, like you didn’t spend the whole day teasing him. Like he didn’t spend every briefing wishing you’d shut up or bend over.

You walk past him. “Yeah,” you say, toeing your shoes off. “My boss is a total asshole.”

Aaron shut the door behind you with a quiet click. “My agent is reckless and insubordinate and acts like the rules don’t apply to her.”

“Funny.” You answered sarcastically, turning slowly, meeting his eyes.

“You disobeyed a direct order earlier,” he says.

You look up at him, lashes lowered. “Yes.”

“You deliberately tested me.”

“Yes.”

“And what did I say?” His eyes glaring into yours.

“I said,” he repeated, voice low and lethal, “if you push me again, I will remind you exactly who’s in charge.”

You stepped closer, breath catching slightly as your chest brushed his. “Is that a threat, Agent Hotchner?”

He looked down at you, jaw tight. “No. It’s a promise. On the bed. Now.”

You didn’t move fast enough. He grabbed your wrist, yanked you, threw you down on the soft plush mattress. “Ass up,” he snapped.

You turned over slow, giving him a look over your shoulder. “Like this, Agent Hotchner?”

“Don’t say my name like that.”

You grinned. “What—‘Hotch’? Or ‘Agent’? Or—”

His palm landed hard on your ass. You gasped, biting your lip. “Keep it up,” he growled, tugging your shorts and panties down in one rough pull.

He stood, unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants, and his cock was thick and hard and already leaking. He stroked it once, eyes locked on yours. The mattress dipped behind you, and then you felt him—hot and heavy—sliding through your folds, teasing you. “I told you,” he said, fucking into you, “you don’t get to act like a brat in front of the team and think I won’t make you pay.”

You whimpered, trying to hold it back, thighs trembling. He pulled you up against him, his cock still buried deep as his other hand came around to grip your throat.

“You gonna talk back again tomorrow?” he rasped, hips slamming into yours as your legs wrapped tight around him.

“Maybe,” you panted. “Depends if you fuck me like this again.”

He fisted your hair, forcing your head back as he drove into you, harder now. He set a punishing pace, fucking you deep and relentless, hand gripping your ass to keep you steady as your moans grew louder and filthier with each thrust. “You think you deserve to come, baby?”

You moaned, nodding frantically. “I’ll be good. I swear—just—please, Aaron—” You come hard, clenching around him, legs shaking as he rails into your dripping cunt. He follows your orgasm seconds later, grinding deep as his warm cum spurts into you.

After, his hands softened on your hips. His lips brushed your shoulder giving you a soft kiss, “I’m sorry,” he says.

You blink slowly, still breathless. “For what?”

“For making you feel like this is something I’m ashamed of.”

Your throat tightens. “It’s not just sex to me,” you whisper.

He leans in and kisses you again, softer this time. “I know,” he says. “It never was.”

a/n: this fic is sponsored by my whoremones

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[pugh-bug]

His Promised Sin

———————————————————————

Remmick x reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, nsfw, lots of mentions of religion and Satan, brief threat of sa

Finally posting this, sorry for the wait I’ve had a lot to sort out this week planning a funeral but I adored writing this. I’ll definitely be writing for Remmick again and for other Sinners characters. Any comments are appreciated so much <33

——————————————————————

In the fierce heat you trudged home, the journey only seeming longer with each step. The centre of town was five miles away on foot but there was nowhere else to buy groceries so walk you did. What you couldn’t afford to buy you grew and what you couldn’t grow you borrowed, from old friends who also couldn’t leave town. No one ever left and those who did soon returned, even the Moore brothers couldn’t stay away but you saw little of them.

Once the path shrunk into a pitiful thing only you could follow you knew you were almost home. You glanced at your ring finger thinking of Chris and the promise he’d just made before leaving. The promise of marriage. Soon. Guilt rang in your chest, working its way down to your gut and settling there.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t love him, that most suitors could live with, it was that you didn’t particularly like him. He didn’t make you laugh or cry. He didn’t make you feel anything worth much and yet you’d agreed. To Chris your politeness was excitement but you knew the truth. No man had made you excited since that night.

Creek

You pushed your weary door open with one hand and clutched your bag of goods with the other. Home at last. It was modest, nothing special, and yet it was the one place you felt comfortable. Peaceful. Some deep part of you hated how safe those words had become, how you prized surviving over thriving and hid from the world. Something better had to be out there, something you wouldn’t just settle for but embrace. Something to fuel you, fill your soul with purpose and set your nerves alight. In your lifetime nothing had matched that description except…

“Where are we going?”

You followed your new friend and classmate into the woods missing home already. If your Mother knew you were alone with a boy at night you’d be in more trouble than you could handle. No amount of grovelling would appease that woman.

“I should get home, they’ll be wondering where I’ve gotten to.”

Johnny ignored your worries, snaking an arm round your waist and pulling you close to his warm body. You froze. “You’re gonna enjoy this.” He grinned, before planting a sloppy kiss on your unsuspecting lips and attempting another.

“Get off!”

But he wasn’t concerned, not until -

“Listen!” You hissed, shoving Johnny away. Something was lingering in the trees watching your every movement. Your Daddy had taught you about hunting animals and in that moment you felt at one with his prey. Hunted. Somehow you knew where to look to see your predator, catching its gaze a few yards away.

Your heart began pounding loud as Johnny’s voice telling you to stop wasting his time. That didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Nothing else existed but you and the glimpse of a face among the branches. A face with eyes you could hardly make out in the darkness except for red. A grin, a gleam in his eyes and a finger to his dripping lips telling you shush.

Nightfall approached as you sleepily unpacked your things, cursing yourself for craving more than you had. For daydreaming about anything but the wedding, if it ever happened. He’d only kissed you once the day his Grandma, who’s life was sadder than her death, gave her blessing. It hadn’t been the love you’d read about in books or witnessed between Smoke and Annie. It hadn’t been love at all and to worsen the blow, to fuel your disappointment, it hadn’t been lust either. A marriage of convenience.

That night you read until your eyes grew heavy and the book slipped away. You dreamt of the face from years ago, the face of something evil.

If it hadn’t have been for the open window you’d have slept through the howling wind.

Rising from your bed to close it, you heard it stop as quickly as it had started. Silence. You were left only with silence as a companion in the twilight except it seemed to want something. It stirred in the air and within you. A deep longing for a cure to the emptiness that had buried its way into your bones through years of sorrow.

Cautiously, you lit a lantern and held it to your window. Something ancient had awakened and somehow you knew Satan in the flesh was just outside. He’d been just outside all your life watching and waiting. Biding his time until you’d abandon all hope of a lasting morality and gladly give in to your sinful desires.

It seemed that night he would no longer idly watch.

Tap tap

Taking a deep breath before doing so, you walked towards the sound. Your front door. You ought to have walked like a traitor on a plank, like a person approaching death with terror. You didn’t, although a rhythmic thud sounded some alarm in your chest as you opened the door.

But there was no one there.

Relief should have been your immediate and only feeling but although it was there you felt a wave of disappointment overpower it. Had the tapping been in your head, or had the wind sent branches tumbling to your front door? The wind that had ceased long before the tapping…

You stood there for a moment letting the night air cool your body until a whisper of your name set your nerves alight.

“Y/n…”

Again, unmistakable a second time. You were not alone.

“Y/n…”

Taunting and nearby, the voice was beckoning you outside. All you had to do was answer. There was nothing but miles of forest between you and the nearest human soul. To answer would be inviting death.

As you made to enter and lock the door the air around you changed as if a gust of wind had ran through you. Alarmed you turned away from your house only to see him standing metres away. In every way he was the same demonic presence you’d encountered all those years ago without a mark of time on him. The only difference was his face, his mouth, was clean from blood. He would have looked to anyone else normal. Human. Harmless. You knew better.

“You know my name.”

A nervousness rang in your voice that only amused the visitor.

“Darlin I know lots of names, names are easy. Bet you’d even know mine if you thought about it long enough.”

You tensed at his words, his unnervingly charming manner of speaking and his grin and yet you did know. You’d always known, somehow he’d told you in the spiritual sense. In a different realm, perhaps in a different lifetime.

“Remmick.”

He bowed as if accepting a great honour, always remaining a few steps from you and your door.

“That’s what God gave me.”

His sardonic smile told you he was mocking your beliefs before he spoke again, eyeing your small house.

“Hasn’t given you much has he?”

“I have enough.”

That was the truth. You had more than you needed and less than you wanted, same as everyone else from town.

“But are you happy?”

You pursed your lips.

“I’m content.”

Remmick simply tutted, leaning closer to you with a demonic shine in his eyes.

“Ah sweetheart, contentment is the enemy of joy.”

Suddenly the emptiness you’d carried within you felt encompassing. Impossible to ignore. When your eyes met Remmick’s you knew he could see it on you, even smell it. A moment passed before you considered the small yet powerful distance between the two of you.

“Are you going to ask me to invite you in?”

Remmick rocked back on his heels, smiling comfortably to himself seemingly.

“No need to.”

You cocked your head.

“You already let me in.”

He ceased rocking.

“I didn-“

“You called out to me, you’ve been calling for my kind a long time.”

You thought of every celebration, every lonely night, every passing year you’d spent longing for something to take you away. A part of you had always felt heard, understood by some invisible force of nature - perhaps God. But God hadn’t been listening, Remmick had.

“Why now, after so long?”

He didn’t answer.

“Will you answer if I let you in?”

The light of the moon flickered in Remmick’s stare. He was undoubtedly the flame to your moth and he knew it, smiling as all those do who know they’ve won. It wasn’t just foolish to let him in it was suicidal but you felt a strange peacefulness with your decision. It was like he’d said: you’d already let him in.

Remmick watched, impressed, as you opened your door fully and gestured for him to come in. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly following you down the hall and into your kitchen. As he eyed your home, you glanced at the drawer you knew housed several knives.

Inside Remmick could almost pass for human, even to you. His eyes didn’t have the same demonic gleam they possessed outside. You watched as he ran a calloused hand down your armchair and caressed the tassels of your lampshade, like a child left unsupervised. He seemed in awe of everything and you found yourself feeling a solemn sense of pity in your heart. What kind of life did he live? Did he have a home of his own? These were questions amongst hundreds others you craved answers for.

“Why now?”

Remmick turned toward you, still keeping a few metres distance. The air moved differently around him, sensing he did not belong. It parted for him out of fear and perhaps on some level respect for he was more ancient than any other being. He smelt of the earth as if he’d been born from roots, not a Mother’s womb.

“You weren’t sure what you wanted, til now.”

“And what do I want?”

He just smiled as if the answer was obvious and perhaps it was. You turned away from Remmick pondering his words…escape.

“That’s it.”

That voice, he spoke like a serpent. A siren. Everything the local preacher warned you about was standing before you in your own kitchen. Invited.

“Don’t look so afraid now darlin, you wanted me here.”

That he knew you couldn’t argue with, no matter how horrid a truth it was. It hadn’t been delirium or the forceful hand of another that had led you to sin. You’d had the same teachings as everyone in town, the same goodness and voice of God. It had never been enough and looking at Remmick, sensing his sinful ferocity, you knew only he would be.

“I know...”

It had barely been a whisper but you knew he’d heard. Resigned to your fate, you stared solemnly at Remmick. He stared back with the sight of countless forgotten souls.

“Will you leave…”

You let out a shaky breath, finding the floor easier to talk to.

“My body…will you leave it here when it’s done?”

Remmick took slow, almost careful, steps toward you. Once his face was mere inches from your own he shook his head, looking down at your tearful eyes as if you were a thing to be pitied. Pitied and played with.

“We’ll see where the night takes us.”

You felt weakened by his words and yet no encounter rendered you so energised. None except…

“Johnny.”

Remmick ran a sharp tongue over his sharper teeth.

“Don’t worry. He’s out of reach.”

You thought of Johnny’s incessant touches, his threats.

“Is that where anyone who meets you ends up?”

“Just the ones who deserve it.”

You looked up at Remmick taking in the shape of his jaw, the line of his nose and the unruliness of his hair. He shouldn’t have been appealing, not when his very existence went against God, but he was. With every look, every word uttered you felt yourself being pulled by an invisible force into him. Shrouded under his being.

“Do I deserve it?”

“Deserve?”

Remmick’s eyes were transfixed on your neck before he pulled away to speak once more.

“Forsake that word, it means nothing to you.”

His eyes bored into yours, you heard his words run through your entire body. You felt the sudden urge to nod in blind agreement as after all it had been Remmick who’d saved you. Answered your callings. He had been your saviour so you’d worship him as you saw fit.

“You don’t have to hide your true nature from me, I smell it on you.”

Before you could think of a reply Remmick moved, slow but purposeful like a hunting snake. You watched him mouth agape as he lowered himself down…down…down until his eyes were level with your thighs. There was nothing between you and Remmick but a thin layer of linen and yet he made no attempt to rid you of your clothes. Instead he looked up at you with a face as innocent as you believed him capable of having. He was asking for permission.

“Chris…”

Your stomach churned at the thought of him at home, eagerly telling his family of your plans.

“Isn’t here is he?”

Remmick’s voice took you out of your head, snapping you into submission.

Your only response was to lift your nightdress, keeping your eyes on his. You waited for the judgement, from who you didn’t know. There were only sinners present. Remmick took a long look, drinking in the sight before he tasted you.

“Mnghn…”

You let out before clasping a hand over your mouth. Remmick peered up at you, grinning.

“Don’t gotta be quiet for me sweetheart.”

If you were thinking of speaking there was no need, Remmick dived back in without another word. His tongue felt feverish, its movements unrelenting and hungry. You clung to the kitchen counter as he tasted every inch of you, his tongue seeming longer by the second.

“Jesus…”

But he wasn’t present, only Remmick and his tongue could end your suffering. Only the warm feeling of lust could envelope you, your mind unreachable and your soul his. No man on Earth ever made your body sing, it was as if Remmick had done this a hundred times before. You knew this feeling had been chasing you, and you it, long before the knock at your door and worse still…that you’d miss it tomorrow.

“Sweetest thing these lips have tasted.”

His words were purest filth, his mouth ancient sin spurring you on. Your hips involuntarily bucked into his mouth demanding, praying for more. He gladly obliged by adding a finger to your torment, circling your clit whilst his tongue had its way. Your grip on the counter tightened, your eyes pleading to close but Remmick’s eyes on you said no: don’t look away. Savour every minute. Savour him.

It was too much: Remmick’s devouring, his words, his scent and the feeling of oblivion growing hotter in your core. Your hand found its way into his hair, gripping him harder than the counter only invigorating him.

“Yes angel, just like that.”

Every cell in your body felt magnetised to him as you came with a howl of his name and fire in your lungs. You hardly registered Remmick’s awe filled eyes on your shaking body, pre occupied with seeing every star in the universe. The room, the house it all felt small. Inconsequential. You were rising above it or perhaps sinking below, you no longer cared.

“Better?”

Remmick rose to steady you with strong arms, not waiting for an answer. His fingers and mouth were wet with your slick but he made no effort to clean himself. You had half a mind to grab his face between your hands and bite, kiss and lick yourself off him but his words halted you.

“Are you ready sweetheart?”

He traced the shape of your face with his index finger admiring you almost like a lover would, a starved one. Your breath hitched when his hand found your throat and ever so gently squeezed.

“Your blood is louder than most.”

“You can hear it?”

“Always have.”

You pictured Remmick following your pulse to Johnny’s chosen spot, basking in the cover of twilight before draining him dry. It was an image you’d torn apart and rebuilt countless times when trying to forget. But in your kitchen, with Remmick’s teeth so close to your neck it and your escape in reach it seemed almost comforting. The inevitability of it all eased your lost soul, the knowing that no force on Earth could steer Remmick from your path. His path was yours and yours his, always had been.

You craned your neck for him, closing your eyes to bask in what would surely be the beginning of something unholy but no bite came. Remmick guided your head back in place, a solemn finality in his gleaming eyes.

“Dawn’s comin.”

He gestured to your window and sure enough a sunrise was brewing, threatening to end your night of living. Your mouth opened to speak but no words came out.

“I’ll still be here when you wake.”

Remmick licked what was left of your slick off his fingers, tasting as if you were a delicacy. In the time it took for your eyes to blink he was gone yet the scent of him lingered. You imagined it always would, that a part of him as he said would remain with you. He’d doomed you both, promised without such words to end your stagnant suffering and damn you to Hell.

You dreamt of following him there gladly, knowing your time would come soon enough.

——————————————————————

Masterlist

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Taglist: @bluevenus19 @ajanehopper @jjubilee-fluff @troyottonick @solsoris @megangovier

[sigh-tofm]

if you’re their sugar baby… (18+)

… price

- absolutely spoils you. adores giving you anything you want. if your gaze lingers in a shop window, he’ll buy you whatever’s in it. you suspect he’s infiltrated your phone somehow, because anything you look at online will show up on your doorstep a few days later. he takes you to private jewellery fittings and sits back with a glass of whisky while the jewellers puts glimmering necklaces and earrings on you.

in return, he likes showing you off. regularly takes you out to restaurants so expensive they don’t even list their prices on the menu. spoon feeds you black caviar and picks out the correct wine, the bottles so old they still have wax seals on them. loves seeing you wearing the dresses he buys for you, revealing the fleshier parts of your body that the rest of society tells you to hide. always wants you to wear diamonds in your ears when you’re his date. nothing is ever too expensive if it’s for you.

takes you to a luxurious hotel after and fucks you good and well in the satin sheets. goes back to base before you wake up the morning after, and leaves a generous cash tip on the nightstand in addition to the monthly four digit payments transferred directly to your bank account.

… kyle

- takes care of you. a sergeant’s pay is low compared to a captain’s, but it’s still a substantial amount and much, much more than you make. enjoys having a pretty lady to spoil. any visit to the hairdresser or nail salon is on him. will occasionally request a specific colour for your nails, and you know it’s to match a dress he’s bought you, waiting for you at home.

takes you dancing, spends the whole night downtown and treats you to high-end street food at three in the morning. you get fancy cocktails and colourful shots and anything else you want to try. if another woman gets close to him on the dance floor, he makes a point out of feeling you up, splaying his hands over you wide hips and soft tummy.

takes you home to his and you both fall right to sleep, waking up past noon the day after. arranges a massage for you to help with your hangover. sits in on the appointment and flips your towel up to eat you out when the massage therapist leaves. reminds you to use the credit card he’s given you in between your orgasms.

… johnny

- whisks you away to scotland when he’s off duty. borrows the family cabin in the highlands and accommodates you both in the master bedroom, spending the cold nights in a grand bed with a heavy pelt covering the duvet. loves the fantasy of having a big, soft secret stowed away in the mountains.

spends the days hiking with you or takes you down to the coast, where you watch the wild waves and enjoy cottage pie in a local pub. asks for the finest whiskey, refusing anything but the best for you. tells you all about the history of the old stone kirk of the town over steaming mugs of spiked cider.

lays the pelt out on the floor before the great fireplace in the living room and grins when you mention the cliché of it all. remarks that clichés exist for a reason and pulls you close. your skin grows goosebumps in the cold air of the cabin, but the fireplace (and the rigorous activity on the pelt rug) warms you both up. lays with you after, smoothing his hand over your side and enjoying how your soft body gives way to the pressure of his fingers. pays for first class on your flight back home and gives you cash enough to cover both rent and supplies for the month. makes out with you messily at the airport before you part ways.

… simon

- takes you along to all his going ons outside of active duty. enjoys having a partner in crime, so to speak. in the military he’s a lone wolf, so when he’s off he just wants to have you for company. price thinks it’s a good idea for him too, to at least pretend he has some normalcy in his life. you oblige. he takes you to all his mundane errands; groceries, changing the tires of his car, walking the old bridle paths in his area.

has you tucked in under his arm when the footie’s on in the evening, trays of hot takeaway on the sofa table. if you can’t decide what you want to order, he has you list everything you’re interested in and orders it all. entertains your questions about football terminology and plays with your hair. pulls a blanket over you when you’re close to falling asleep and turns the volume down.

herds you to bed after a little while and so enjoys having a warm, soft body to put his arm around at night. to you, it’s all so casual and natural that you almost forget it’s an arrangement, but he never forgets to pay for your company according to your agreement and always tips generously.

doesn’t say it out loud, but likes it when you straddle him on the sofa and lets him feel you up and make out with you until he comes in his pants like a schoolboy.

[bookshelf-dust]

stubborn

billy hargrove x fem!reader

gif by @hawkinsboys

word count: 2,970

warnings: swearing, a couple sexualish comments, mechanic!billy, enemies to lovers type beat, set post-college

synopsis: working with billy hargrove is the bane of your existence. you can’t stand him. can’t stand how gorgeous he is. or that he might not be the bad guy you thought he was.

a/n: hi lovelies!! it’s been forever since i wrote for billy—most of which is due to focusing on school and all the writing i do for that, but also i just hadn’t had any good ideas for him. but alas, this one came to me, and i think it turned out pretty cute. let me know what you think!! lets yap about him!!! ♥️

————

“Nah, you’re all good, Mrs. Peterson.” 

Billy says your name, amiably walking the elderly woman up to the front desk with one hand hovering behind her in case she needs to be steadied. “She’ll take care of you, and if you need anything else you can give us a call.” 

Mrs. Peterson grins, patting the skin on Billy’s forearm. She slips him a butterscotch candy. You cringe when he winks and pulls the plastic wrapping away, popping the treat in his mouth. He hates butterscotch, but he eats it whenever Mrs. Peterson comes in to get her oil changed because she always gives him something to snack on. 

Fucking kiss-ass, you think. 

“Thank you, sweetie.” Her gaze shifts to you as she settles her pocketbook on the countertop and begins digging around inside. “Nice boy, that one. Makes me happy to see that boys are still being raised properly.” She rubs her chest.

Her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose. “If I were you, young lady, I’d be sure to snatch up a man that well-rounded before it’s too late.”

Your palms go all sweaty just as the cash drawer opens. If only she knew. You start counting out her change. “Mrs. Peterson, Billy and I are just coworkers. Besides, I’m not really his type.”

The woman sighs. “What’s all this about types? If you like someone, you like them. You kids make things much too complicated nowadays.”

“Tell me about it,” you mutter under your breath. You watch as Mrs. Peterson grabs a mint from the counter on her way out. 

A quick glance at the clock has you rolling your eyes. It’s just you and Billy on shift today, no buffer between you to keep the peace, or at least prevent you from having to look at him for too long. You don’t have another appointment for close to two hours. Your nails tap against the vinyl tabletop. There’s a Dr. Pepper you left in the back of the fridge—maybe that’ll help you power through. 

You turn around and your entire body jolts. “Jesus fuck!”

Billy laughs. “Sorry, sugar. Figured you heard me walk over.”

“I was too busy thinking of how I could avoid you until our next appointment gets here.”

He crosses his arms and leans up against the doorframe. He’s so stupidly attractive when he does that that it makes you want to knee him in the balls. “How sweet. Anyway, I’m gonna go pick up lunch. You want me to get you somethin’?”

“I’m good.”

You start towards the break room. Billy steps to the side and blocks your path. “I’m going to that sandwich place up the street. What do you want?”

You duck below Billy’s arm. He just lowers it so you can’t get around him. 

“I said I’m good.”

Billy’s gaze drops to your mouth and back up to your eyes. He takes a step closer to you, enough so that you can smell his cologne. You tell him at least once a week that you hate it, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t cherished the way it lingers after he leaves a room. 

“And I asked what you want. You didn’t bring lunch.”

You scoff. “How the fuck would you know that?” You raise your hands, gesturing with them as you fuss at him. 

“Because every morning you come in here with all those fuckin’ bags and you were missing one. Probably because you were late.”

“Oh, right, because I can control when my car won’t start and then there’s an accident on the freeway!” 

Billy’s arms drop. “Your car wouldn’t start?”

“Go get your lunch, Billy.”

He keeps his eyes on yours when he snatches his keys off the hook under the front desk. “You want a pickle today or no?”

“Oh my god, Billy!” 

You practically shove him out the front door and then flip the welcome sign to say Be Back Soon! He blows a kiss at you from the driver's seat of his car. You flip him off in return and just know he’s laughing when he pulls out of the parking lot.

When he gets back, you’re chugging your Dr. Pepper. For a moment, you’d been scared that one of the other mechanics on shift the past few days would’ve taken it, especially because you forgot to write your initials on the cap. 

It bothers you that Billy realized you’d forgotten to pack lunch. It bothers you that he knows what time you get to work. It bothers you that he could tell you’re hungry. But at the same time, knowing that he pays enough attention to you to know those things—it sends a startling recognition down your throat. Your shoulders stiffen.

You like that he knows those things. And you hate it, because he is the last person you want to feel any attraction towards. 

You inhale through your nose and hold your eyes closed for a few seconds before you exhale. You’re not going to think about that right now. 

You make your way back to the front of the shop. A frown forms on your face when you see that Billy has set up on your desk, housing his lunch. There’s a matching sandwich across from him. 

“Jesus, Billy, I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

His throat works as he swallows. Your eyes drag down the length of his neck, all thick veins and lustrous skin. 

“And I told you I don’t give a fuck. Eat.”

A spark of anger rises to the forefront of your thoughts. You want to tell him not to boss you around, but you pause, feeling like that will only make you sound like a petulant child. You might as well stomp your feet and squeal. 

You sit down on your stool with a huff. You look Billy in the eye and rip the paper covering your sandwich. “Fuck you.”

Billy sucks something off the tip of his thumb and laughs through his nose.

“Do you have to be such a priss all the time?” he asks. “Just accept when people do shit for you. Say thank you or somethin,’ even.”

“Don’t worry, I promise I save all my prissiness for you, Hargrove.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Thank God for that.”

“What? I heard you talking up Mrs. Petersen earlier. Yes, ma’am. No ma’am. Of course ma’am. Do you need your feet rubbed, ma’am?”

“Funny.”

“You’re so good at wrapping everyone around your finger. It’s nauseating.”

“And you aren’t? You’d think you got some condition with how often you bat your eyelashes.”

“It’s called being nice? Customers are supposed to come back, not run screaming because one of you was a dick.”

Billy scoffs, shaking his styrofoam cup around. “That was quite literally one time.”

“You were a dick to that lady! She wrote a hate letter and copied it and then put it up outside the library and Benny’s and fuckin’ Melvald’s!”

“Oh, come on.” He says your name once more. There’s something about the way he says it that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like he might as well be whispering it directly into your ear. “You know she was a total bitch! She kept asking me if I was old enough to be working here and telling me that my hair was a safety hazard and that I should cut it. Then, when she asked where I was from and I told her, she said, and I quote, ‘Hawkins used to be a nice place. You west coasters are killing all the mom and pops.’ What does that have to do with me?”

You’re silent for a minute. You absolutely know he’s right. But do you want to admit that? No.

“She’s kind of right about your hair though. You always forget to tie it up. Even I wor—notice it when you’re under a car and cringe.”

You hope Billy hasn’t caught your slip up, but by the look on his face, he totally has. A smirk plays on his lips. She worries about me, it says. Before the conversation can go any further, you grab hold of his wrist where it’d been resting on the counter. His brows raise in confusion, less from the fact that it’s random and more because you’ve literally never touched him before. 

He watches as you roll a hair tie off of your forearm and onto his. You give it a playful snap once it’s settled at the joint of his wrist. “There,” you say. “No more excuses now, Hargrove. And thanks for the sandwich.”

He never noticed you take it, but when he snaps out of his daze brought on watching your hips sway as you walk away, it’s gone from where he left it.

————

Billy is worried. It’s past the time you could be even remotely late to work. You’re not there. You’re not at work.

He doesn’t second guess himself when he looks you up in the book—never having been given your number—and dials. Straight to voicemail. What the fuck?

It’s unlike you to just not show up. Surely you would’ve called out if something happened. But Billy asked around, and no one else on shift has heard a thing.

The phone at the front desk rings. Normally, you’d be the one to answer, but you’re not here. Billy hastily picks it up. 

“Roane Park Automotive, this is Billy.”

“Billy!”

He says your name, along with a slew of other curses. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you here?”

“Um, about that. Do you remember when I mentioned that my car wouldn’t start?”

“You mean when I tried to talk to you about it and you brushed me off?”

“Save it. Anyway, it broke down this morning. I thought I could fix it myself but my knowledge is limited to what my dad taught me—which it turns out, isn’t much. I had someone try to help me jump it off, but that didn’t work either. So I walked—

“You walked?”

“Let me finish! I walked to the nearest pay phone and well, here we are.”

“Keep your pretty little ass right where it is. I’m coming to get you.” 

“It’s fine, really. I just need a tow, I guess? I don’t know. I can call someone else or—

“Hush. Give me a landmark or something—I still haven’t learned the names of these damn roads.”

When Billy gets to you, he swears his head is gonna explode. You’re sitting on the hood of your car, swinging your legs. Swinging your legs. You’re driving him insane. He thinks he could be truly mad at you if you didn’t look so damn cute while doing the most obnoxious thing you could be doing. 

He calls your name and you wave from your seat, quickly sliding down to meet him. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he huffs.

You guffaw. “Okay, wow. What ever happened to hello?”

Billy opens your driver's side door and presses the switch to unlatch your hood. He’s popping it within seconds. “I fuckin’ told you to let me look at your car. You had me worrying my ass off up there, thinking something happened to you—”

“You were worried about me?”

Billy glares at you, his hand somewhere within the depths of your car. You might work in a shop, but you don’t know a thing when it comes to cars. 

“You never listen. You know how infuriating that is?” 

Of course he’s avoiding the question. 

“Why do you expect me to listen to you, Hargrove?”

The sound of metal on metal makes you cringe. “I don’t know, maybe cuz it’s basic fuckin’ decency to listen to people trying to help you?”

“Yeah, well some people are just assholes and not worth listening to.”

Billy straightens so fast you’re worried he’s gonna hit his head. You hate the way your arm jolts, wanting to protect him from injury. 

“Who are you calling an asshole, princess?”

You cross your arms. “I think you know who,” you say. 

Billy steps into your space, slamming the hood of your car shut so hard it makes you blink. Now's as good a time as any, he thinks. 

“You gonna tell me what the fuck your problem is already or just keep prancing around me for the rest of our lives?”

You roll your eyes. It infuriates him. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit!”

“You’re just a prick, okay? You always have been! Ever since you showed up in Hawkins. You have this—this God complex!”

Billy has the nerve to laugh. Fully tosses his head back and laughs, slapping the side of your car. 

“So what, you went to school with me for a couple years and now we work together and you think you know me?”

“I know your kind, Billy! You’re all the fucking same!”

If possible, he gets even closer to you. “And what’s my kind, sweetheart?” 

“Oh, I think you know. Maybe we only went to high school together our last year, but this town is fucking small! I couldn’t escape you in college, even after I changed my major. You act like your shit doesn’t stink, Billy.”

He laughs again. 

“You listen to your loud music and there’s always a new mark on your neck, a new girl on your arm—usually the skinniest, bleach blonde girl—and you never spare anyone a glance if they’re not up to your standards. That I know. I wasn’t a cheerleader in high school and I wasn’t begging to suck your dick and I sure as hell didn’t fall for your reformed bad boy shit in college! You’re just another gorgeous guy who’s an absolute asshole.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Billy asks. He crosses his arms, mimicking you. It makes you want to slap him. Maybe kiss him stupid. 

“Oh, fuck off! That’s exactly what I mean! It’s all about reputation with guys like you, about notches on your belt or how many people you need to stomp on before people start calling you a king.”

When Billy reaches out to straighten your shirtsleeve from where it’s folded in on itself, you don’t flinch or even think about punching him. 

“I’m not a tyrant, babe. And have you ever, for just a second, considered that all that shit was a defense mechanism? Or does that not fit the bill you’ve got written up in that pretty little head of yours?”

You don’t say anything. Billy can see your brain recalculating.

Finally, “I don’t think being a prick calls for a healthy defense mechanism. Ever heard of therapy? Or like, fucking running? Or I don’t know! It’s always the pretty ones who are jack—”

Billy shuts you up the only way he can think to. The only way he’s wanted to for months. He kisses you. And he’s good at it. You start to lose yourself in it before the intelligent part of your brain sends alarm signals to the rest of you, making you pull away. One look at Billy has your knees going weak. 

His lips are swollen and this deep pink color that makes them look more enticing, if that’s even possible. His pupils are blown and the weight of his hand on the back of your neck is hypnotizing. 

“What?” he questions. You both just stare at each other for a moment. You smack him on the arm. It’s the only thing you could think to do. Billy looks down at his arm, his brows knitting together, and then back up at you. There’s the start of a grin on his face. 

He lets out an oomph sound when you grab his shirt collar and yank his mouth back to yours. He’s smiling into the kiss, letting out these little breathy laughs against your lips and when he slides a hand down your spine you swear you don’t know how you’ve lived your life thus far without knowing what it felt like to kiss Billy Hargrove. 

You kiss him hard, enough to express that you’re head over heels for him and can’t even find it in yourself to be angry about it. You pull away and take a few steps back. 

Billy is watching you, trying to figure out what your next move will be. He reaches out and swipes his thumb against the corner of your mouth. 

In an effort to put off discussing the fact that you just made out on the side of the road, you try to finish your argument from moments before. 

“You really did used to be an asshole, Billy. I couldn’t stand being around you, seeing how you treated everyone—I don’t know.”

Billy shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I was an asshole. But what I said about it being a defense mechanism was true. A shitty life made a shitty guy, you know? I’d hope you could tell that I’m not that guy anymore now, but clearly I still get under your skin.”

“It’s easier to fight with you than admit you can be that gorgeous and not a total dick and also that you can be those things and like me at the same time.”

Billy laughs lowly and steps back into your space. “I can do all that and more, pretty girl. Let me prove it to you.”

You let Billy kiss you again, slower this time. “I’ll think about it,” you say. Neither of you say anything for a moment. 

Billy chuckles under his breath. “Reformed bad boy.”

You swat him on the arm. “Leave me alone!” You giggle. 

“Your alternator’s fucked, by the way.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Come on. Get your ass in the car. You can fuss at me some more on the way back to the shop.”

“As long as you kiss me to shut me up again.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[bettystonewell]

ANOTHER NOTCH ON HIS BELT

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader

Every little part of him is holding onto every little piece of her, and any other woman he’s been lucky enough to escape his life with. Even if it’s only for the night - or - Dean replaces intimacy with sex. MDNI 18+ only 1.2k words

Tags: lil’ bit of SMUT, casual sex, Dean needs a hug, light angst

A/N: Summary inspired by the lyrics of the song “Tough” by Lewis Capaldi.

He loves the sex. 

Needs it. 

Craves it. 

The closeness it gives him. The warmth of someone else surrounding his hardened body. Touching, feeling, writhing below or on top of him. He doesn’t care. 

Even with the scrapes and bruises he doesn’t remember which ugly bastard he ganked giving them to him, he’s not ashamed. He just wants to fill up his heart with affection to get him through the next death he knows is inevitable, no matter how hard he tries.

It’s something he can’t escape, except maybe for the night. Tonight, if he’s lucky.

As she pours him another cup, and places the pie he ordered beside his now empty plate, he pretends not to notice. It doesn’t mean he’s not watching. He just continues to hold the conversation with Sam while listening to her greet someone new.

Her voice carries like silk over the chatter of people and the ringing coming from the door. Her hands are clean, her skin soft and inviting as she pulls out her notepad and pen. 

He flicks his head up to exchange a glance, and she actually winks at him. “Can I get you anything else?” 

“Sammy?” He looks his brother’s way, but brings his gaze back to her the second he’s answered.

“Thanks,” he says and reads the badge pinned to her blouse aloud. “That’s a pretty name.” 

The girls in these dives they eat at are always perfect in his eyes. Their lives are just so, even if they don’t see it. 

No scars, at least not from weapons. Pliable flesh he can sink his fingers into. Grab, smooth, lick, taste. Sweet perfume that would fill a home he knows has things littered with the apple pie life he once thought he wanted. 

He’ll tell no one he still does.

He’ll also never tell Sam that’s the real reason he doesn’t bring them to the motel anymore if he can avoid it. It’s easier to leave them when he wakes up and feels out of place.

She walks away, back to the counter whence she came with hips that sway in time to the tick of the dusty old clock on the wall. Past the other patrons and tables full of more coffee and mediocre food. 

Chicken served in nugget form. Sandwiches lathered in sauce. It may be swill and smell closer to ass than edible, but if he plays his cards well, he’ll be devouring something far better tonight.

“Don’t wait up,” he says after downing the scalding liquid in one go. He’s done with waiting. Just needed the last boost of confidence before he goes in for the kill.

He stands up and grabs his phone. Brushes down his jacket, checking there’s nothing on it from the hunt, and looks up to the smile that caught his eye again. 

She’s watching him.

“Don’t do the hot coffee thing,” Sammy bitches, as he walks away.

But while Dean ignores him, a split second frown sours his face. He refuses to let his baby brother see the remark stings. 

It’s not about dipping his stick in the oil, but he’ll let Sam believe it is. The facade is easier than admitting the truth.

He steps up to the counter, where she’s taking some other chumps order, and raises the cup he never put down to gain her attention. There might be a suave grin thrown her way. Definitely a twinkle in his eye.

“Can I get another, sweetheart? Hot, and…just like you?” There’s a wag of his brow now.

“Sure thing, hun,” she says with a chuckle that makes her even more desirable. She doesn’t know how beautiful she is.

He wants to taste. He wants to touch. He wants her arms wrapped around him while he holds her tight. So he takes the opportunity presented to him. A brush of his fingers on hers when she hands the smooth ceramic back to him. Lingering as he gauges for any reaction. Any hint that she’s interested in being his comfort for the night.

“Thanks,” he says through a grin of goof and charm, and she smiles. Doesn’t even move her hand, and he knows he’s in with a chance.

“Can I get you anything else…?” she asks.

“Dean.” He winks.

“Dean,” she repeats, and he wants to hear it again. Underneath him. On top of him. Legs wrapped ‘round his waist as she chants it into his ear. 

He’d settle for it once if it was on her doorstep, following an ‘I had a good time last night,’ and so he’s bolder. His choice of words, just as. “Any chance you’re getting off soon?”

And she chuckles, hearty and soft. Nods her head in consideration, tongue playing with her cheek as she looks him over nice and slow. “You don’t beat around the bush, huh, Dean?” 

“Depends on the carpets,” he says. 

It’s cheesy and cringe and doesn’t even make much sense, but it works. She’s placing the pot of coffee down, leaning in closer to him, hovering over him a couple of hours later in a room that’s both foreign in foundation and comfort.

Plush bedding that’s clean. No smoke or dust or grime in sight. 

A light that never flickers and appliances that don’t buzz.

There’s a thigh on either side of him, bent at the knees just as he wanted. A sheen of sweat between. Her hands, warm and soft, creep over his skin, tracing patterns with tingles that curl his toes and tense the muscles in his shoulders and glutes.

His arms pull her down on him, pushing himself further into her. Giving her more of him, and she moans. He does, too. The squeeze of her walls on the covered tip of his dick is wonderful, but it’s the look in her eyes that does it for him. 

There’s a connection, now, even if there might be none come morning. This lust that he can mistake for adoration is what he needs. What he craves.

He’s wanted. She feels. Her body is alive, and she cries his name. 

“You like that, baby?” he asks with a snap of his hips, savouring the next sound she makes. If they go another round, he’ll do it again. When he’s alone with just his hand, he’ll chase it with the memory of her trembling lips, thighs and chest.

He’s pulling her tit into his mouth. Wide to capture as much of her smooth skin as he can. He’ll remember the saltiness, too. The way her nipple pebbles as his tongue swipes over and around it. The way her pelvis rocks.

She’s grinding down on him. Her fingers are tugging into his hair, and as her nails scrape down to the nape of his neck, he’s pulling her stomach to his. 

He’s grabbing her ass and raising it up. He’s chasing both their highs.

And when it hits, and he feels his balls tighten, and her around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth, he’s burying his nose into the junction between her hairline and ear. Inhaling the soap and shampoo. Her perfume. The sweat on her skin. He’s taking it all in and holding her tight.

In this moment, she’s his. 

The closeness she gives him. The warmth of her surrounding his hardened body. Touching, feeling, writhing on top of him.

He craves her.

He needs her.

And he’ll continue to, because it’s not just about sex. He loves the intimacy.

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa

If you’d like to be added, you can add yourself HERE, or if you’d like to be removed, please let me know ☺️

[clare-875]

Hey Clare😙 love your writing so much! Could I request a shanks x jealous!reader, where the reader feels as though their love for is unrequited due to shanks’ many flings (but it’s actually not)? Thank u so much, muah!❤️

Envy (Shanks x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Shanks x Female Reader Summary: You think your love for him is unrequited. Warnings: Jealous reader, harassment, alcohol, angst/fluff A/N: I'm so glad you like my stories <3 I hope you enjoy this one! [One Piece Masterlist] _____

There he goes again.

You watch your Captain from where you sit in a dimly lit bar, lips pulled into a tight frown. The feeling bubbles up within you before filling you so much, you could suffocate. Jealousy. Shanks has a wide grin on his face as once again, beautiful women gravitate towards the red-haired man. Who wouldn't? Your Captain, who was so powerful and skilled he upheld the status of an emperor. Your Captain, the famous leader of the Red-Haired Pirates. Your Captain, so charismatic and charming and frustratingly attractive. You let out a deep, decrepit sigh.

Why did you have to fall for him?

He has an arm wrapped loosely around a blond-haired woman with a model-like body, cradling a drink in his other hand. Two more women sit by him and linger, fighting for his attention. You can faintly hear them laugh at something he said in the distance. Gritting your teeth, you force your gaze to the drink in your hand, swirling it periodically like it could help the turmoil you feel now. It had been the same cycle over and over the past few months, with Shanks flirting and bringing a woman to bed each night you were ashore. Then, that same woman would leave the next morning, his form nowhere to be seen.

With his flings came his distance.

He could barely meet your gaze the following day, and it had felt like there was a greater space between you since his cycle of women had started. It hurt you. Not only because the man you were in love with paid more attention to someone who wasn't yourself, but because he didn't even seem to care about the women he brought to his bed. You felt as though he cherished time with faceless women more than you. You thought the two of you had been friends, maybe even inkling to the beginnings of something more. Countless times have you stayed up late, talking about your dreams. Countless times have you drunk and danced together, laughing uncontrollably. Countless times had you bantered, and smiled and gazed at the other.

All for it to be suddenly lost. Like you hadn't meant anything to him.

This one-sided love, his carelessness. You had been holding out hope that maybe he would look to you like he used to all those months ago. But now you start to see that it is getting helpless, and you feel like you are going crazy. He had entrapped you in your feelings. You knew you had to move on - you can't bear this a second longer - you just didn't know if you could. Faint tears sting your eyes but you force them away. You can't cry for him anymore.

"Hey, you alright?"

Your eyes travel upwards are you are met with the knowing gaze of Benn Beckham. "You know he's an idiot right?" Maybe it was the way he too, was good with women and frequently brought them to bed, but he had somehow seen so clearly that Shanks's flings were getting to you. Maybe you hadn't been hiding your feelings well enough, but you could barely care anymore. "I'm fine Benn, I'm just gonna go get another drink." You smile to the best of your ability and leave him be, walking up to the bartender, hoping you could just drink your troubles away.

It is your turn to order when a man approaches you.

"Hey, I'll get that for you." The voice of a stranger reaches your ears and you look up surprised to see a man offering to pay for the drink you ordered. You weren't necessarily scarse of men approaching you, but you hadn't found the courage to pursue anything amid your feelings for Shanks. Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe it was time for a change. "Thank you." You try to push your inner turmoil aside and force your lingering gaze away from your Captain. "No problem." The man is surprisingly attractive, and a polite smile reaches the corners of your face.

His gaze holds keen interest. "You know, you caught my eye the minute you walked in." You smile at the man's sudden boldness, raising a brow as you hold your drink in one hand. "Really?" He grins wide at your amusement. "You don't happen to have a boyfriend, do you?" You feel your heart tug sharply in your chest at his words and suddenly you're fighting a frown. You spare one last glance at your Captain. He was distracted by the woman under his arm and grinning wide. Your eyes dart back to the man in front of you waiting expectantly.

"No, there's no one in my life."

Moments pass well enough, and the man who sits in front of you is nice at least. He just wasn't the man you wanted. Maybe moving on wasn't that easy. You smile and nod and listen intently, you shake your head and pitch into conversation. But soon, you fight a yawn as he speaks mainly of himself and his glory, barely showing the interest he claimed to have had in you. What's more, you realise his boldness quickly, as he closes the space between you with each minute that passes. Maybe it wasn't interest you saw earlier in his eyes, but lust. The smile you keep on your face starts to strain against your skin.

"Hey," your gaze snaps forward as you realise you have been lost in your thoughts, most likely looking into the void. The man in front of you doesn't seem to notice, however, as there is no change in his attitude. "Do you wanna get out of here?" His hand reaches out to touch your thigh, and you suddenly feel ill. You see it then so clearly, that he simply wanted you in his bed from the beginning, most likely to be discarded the morning after. What was it with men these days? You try to maintain your composure and you reach for the hand that touches your skin, removing it promptly from your thigh.

"Actually, I'm good thanks."

You go to stand, placing an empty glass on the counter. "This was nice," you say, "but I should go now." As you move, however, his hand that lingers reaches for your arm. You freeze at the contact, but he is all up in your space again, and his sudden actions take you back. "What-" But he interrupts moving closer to your face. "I don't think so, sweetheart. I like what I see. I want to see where this goes..." A frown instantly marks your face, as your blood pumps hot within you. Does he know who he's talking to? Yes, you may seem like any other woman at the bar, but you were a pirate. A pirate on an Emporer's crew. "Why, you-"

"What's going on here?"

The man freezes. There is darkness that fills the air along with the suddenly dangerous atmosphere. A figure looms behind you.

"I- I-," the man drops your arm instantly, stuttering as fear creeps up on his features. Who wouldn't in the face of an emperor? You don't turn, but you know it is Shanks who stands behind you, and his sharp eyes are trained on where the man had touched your skin. Though you do not see, Shank's face morphs into one of unusual, pure fury. It has the man in front of you basically falling to your feet. "Get out of here." Your Captain's words are spoken low and he places a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back into him.

The man all but runs from your side.

There is a tension that lingers in the aftermath, but it is broken by your movements, shrugging off Shanks's hand. There is a brief silence that follows. "I was fine." Your words are muttered softly, and there is a pain that lingers in your chest. Why did it have to be he who came? Didn't he know how painful this was for you already? Shanks watches your darkened expression carefully and lets out a deep sigh. "Look [y/n], I won't stop you from pursuing guys but at least pick better ones-" You turn as your facade cracks, bringing forth anger.

"You're the last person I need to hear that from Shanks. Why don't you go back to your little group, I'm sure they're missing you."

Shanks freezes under the weight of your glare and sharp words. He had never seen you look at him in such a way. You fight your emotions as you look at the surprise in your Captain's face, and you move. You need air, there was no oxygen in this bar and it felt like you were suffocating. "Wait, [y/n]-" But you don't stop, you were tired and hurt and envy filled your senses. Why couldn't he see how much you loved him? Why can't he see how much he hurts you?

"[y/n]!"

Finally feeling like you can breathe in the crisp evening air, Shanks has caught up to you before barely a moment passes. "[y/n], is there something wrong?" His words are what make you break completely. With alcohol still burning in your system and your raging feelings, you finally let it spill. A laugh of disbelief escapes you. "Wrong? You're really asking me if something's wrong Shanks, now?!" Shanks watches wide-eyed as you eye him with a mixture of sadness and anger.

"You've barely spoken to me, let alone looked at me these past few weeks! You have a new woman in your bed every other day! There's nothing here anymore. What happened to friendship? What happened to-" You pause, realising you've spoken too much of your mind, but Shanks's eyes only widen further in surprise. "I liked you, Shanks. I actually thought you-" A tear slips from your eye that you wipe harshly from your cheek, turning away. But Shanks reacts before you can take a single step, and a hand holds you to him before you are engulfed in his embrace.

You struggle in his arms, tears now pouring as you tell him to let you go. "I don't want your pity Shanks! Go! You have people waiting for you inside-" But Shanks doesn't budge an inch, instead all that fills him is utter regret, and shame, and pain. All this time, you liked him too? All this time he had spent trying to push his feelings aside with nameless women, only to feel deep remorse when he saw your face the next morning. All this time he had pushed away your friendship, and the inkling of something more. He had pushed you away because, for the first time, the Red-Haired Shanks were scared. Scared of losing you.

He was a coward.

"Shanks-" The red-haired Emporer can feel his heart clench against his chest at your words to leave you be, but he can't let you go. He won't let you go, he doesn't think he can bear your absence any longer. What torture had he put the both of you through, for no reason at all but his stupidity? Would you even forgive him? "[y/n]... I'm sorry." You freeze suddenly at his words, feeling your heart drop even further within you. Of course, here it comes, the rejection. But Shanks's words are beyond what you thought they would be.

"I like you too... no, I'm in love with you." You feel your breath caught in your throat as you start to shake your head against his chest, fighting to move from his arms once more. "Liar! Then what about all those women you slept with! You wouldn't even look at me-" Shanks quickly interrupts before you spill your words once more. "I thought that pushing you away would make the feeling fade. All those women, they were part of that too. But, [y/n], they're nothing compared to you. Believe me." Shanks finally releases you from his embrace and you scramble back a few steps watching his pleading expression with wide eyes.

"Forgive me."

You meet his burning red eyes with trepidation, but all you see is his sincerity, his regret. You are utterly speechless. Shanks was in love with you? Shanks returned your feelings? You move forward, anger suddenly filling you as you move closer and you swing, one punch right into his chest. Shanks doesn't move or flinch, he merely takes the brunt of your attack though it barely does anything to the emperor. "You, you're telling the truth?" Your words are spoken as though still unsure, and you let your arm fall to your side. Shanks observes your darkened expression, but his remorse does nothing to fade.

"Yes."

One step forward, followed by another, you move once more. Holding the collar of his shirt you pull him down to you with what strength you can muster, and suddenly your lips are on his. Shanks stops in surprise but is quick to pull you close to him and return your fervour. The kiss is angry and passionate and all you had dreamt it would be. Your hands move deep into his hair, and his arms wind themselves around your waist. You feel his warmth and want against you. When you part, it is only because you need a breath.

"You're stupid."

You speak low, but with the lingering joy that fills your senses. You had kissed him.

"You were jealous."

Shanks retorts, murmuring his words into your skin, but you don't miss the teasing undertone. You frown, hitting him lightly in mock irritation. "Shanks, do you really want to be-" But he quickly cuts you off with another kiss to your lips.

"I still haven't forgiven you, you know."

Shanks leans his head against yours, finally content.

"I know."

Let's just say the following weeks are spent with Shanks bending to your every will and want. It takes a while for you to get over the flings that put a gap between the two of you, but soon you forgive him. He couldn't be happier with you by his side. You were all he wanted, and all he could ever want.

[tinaascended]

⎯⎯ IF YOU LOVE TO FUCK, CUZ SOULLESS SAM LOVES TO FUCK

Ever since you found out Sam had lost his soul, it felt like he had lost his dignity and morals in the cage too.

That thought started lingering in your mind after you noticed that his sex drive had gone worse than his brother's, which you didn't think was possible for anyone.

All those times he didn't return to the motel until late in the morning, or in the middle of the night with his hair and his clothes messed up, marks around his neck and shoulders. Many times when you walked in on him passed out on the bed with another girl next to him.

You would have to have at least 10 hands if you wanted to count how many women he had been with on your fingers.

You thought about that a lot. At first you tried to play it off as worrying about Sam and wanting to help him, but the drop in your heart every time he eyed another woman told otherwise.

And you would be lying if you said he didn't look a hundred times more attractive or if it wasn't a hundred times easier to get you soaked because of him.

Yes, he was always attractive but there was something about him now that was making you want him even more.

Making you want him to leave you shaking and moaning on the bed.

Well, today was your lucky day.

Except, it happened in the bathroom of a bar instead of a bed.

After a long day of hunting down a ghost in an abandoned hospital and you thirsting over Sam in his FBI suit, Dean decided to drive back to the motel to sleep, and you both decided to go to a nearby bar.

It only took you 3 shots of martini to grab him by his tie and whisper "I couldn't take my eyes off you all day".

And that's all Sam needed to hear to make a quick bathroom run with you. To have you pinned down on the sink, his teeth biting down your neck, his fingers dug deep in your hips.

His hands quickly pushed up the short black dress you wore, removing your underwear, gripping your hips and pulling your lower body closer to him.

He gave your neck another kiss before whispering just below your ear, his breath hot on your skin, "Your little dress had been driving me crazy all day baby."

A small chuckle left your lips at his words, your hands found his hair, trembling fingers gripping it, as his lips roughly worked its way down to where you needed him the most.

He kissed your lower stomach, an action leaving you more frustrated than it should have, as he reached his two fingers between your throbbing folds. A shaky breath left your lips, your thighs twitching, as he cursed under his breath, feeling your arousal dripping on his fingers.

"Fuck, I got you this worked up?" He said with a smirk, his voice was so seductive, he could easily talk you through triple murder and you would do it without a doubt.

You nodded to him. His eyes met yours, glued on your gaze, as he finally trailed his tongue from your folds to your clit.

A moan escaped your lips, as your hand desperately gripped his hair, worried he might pull away and leave you a whiny mess.

But he didn't. His mouth worked wonders on your clit, making your legs tremble around his neck, shaky exhales leaving your lips.

Your head dropped back, eyes rolling back from the pleasure Sam was inflicting on you.

For a second, you cursed yourself for not doing this sooner, if it meant that it would feel so enjoyable.

His lips sucking on your clit and his fingers rushing inside you was what sent you over the edge, leaving you moaning out his name like a prayer, gripping his hair even tighter now.

His fingers and his tongue didn't let go until you almost screamed out, your legs shaking and tensing around him.

You cursed under his breath the second he did pull away, kissing your body up to your lips, letting you taste yourself, as he slid his tongue in your mouth, low moan escaping your lips as he did so.

Your hands quickly found its way to his tie, discarding it in a second, your shaky fingers unbuttoning his shirt, reaching down to his belt.

You wanted to touch him everywhere, his neck, his abs, huge biceps and his muscular back, his bulge that has been growing harder on each moan he drew from your lips.

You settled on his belt, hurriedly unbuckling it, as you bit down on his bottom lip.

"Someone's eager today" He spoke as he looked down to you, a smirk appearing on his face as he did so.

"Today? more like since the day I met you" You spoke in between the kisses, feeling his smirk on your lips.

He let you drop his pants on the floor, palming his huge bulge through his boxers, earning a groan from him.

"If I knew you wanted this so badly, I would've given it to you much sooner."

"Yeah?" you almost moaned out, slowly moving your palm on his dick.

"Yeah baby" He spoke in ragged breaths, his eyebrows almost connecting, as he felt your hand move in a teasingly slow pace, "how about you be a good girl and turn around for me."

And how could you say no to Sam Winchester.

You did as he asked, getting down from the sink and turning around, only to be met by a huge mirror you were too busy to notice when you first walked in.

You saw him smirk at you in the mirror, as his hands pushed your body against the sink, your arms resting on the cold marble in front of you, his fingers pushing your dress up a little more.

He gripped your ass with both his hands, pulling your body closer to him, feeling his clothed dick brush up against you, earning a shaky exhale from you.

He quickly lowered his boxers down, as his dick sprung free, hitting your ass. You cursed under your breath at his size.

You never expected him to be small or average, but you also never expected him to be this huge too. Fuck, you would be getting destroyed.

And you were proven right, as he slid himself inside you, both of you groaning at the feeling.

He pushed himself all in the second time, a loud moan escaping your lips this time. His hands rested on your hips, as he slowly started picking up his pace.

He was strangely not rough for a guy who didn't have a soul.

But then you felt a sharp sting on your ass, followed by his tight grip.

Never mind.

His dick filled you up whole, hitting all the right spots that made you think you were made for each- other.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous like this," He said under his breath, almost inaudible. You wanted to respond, to tell him how hot he looked like that, fucking you from behind, but his voice and his pace made your mind shut off, your eyes roll back and close tightly.

His one hand quickly found your hair, gripping it as he made your head rise up, leaning down to you.

"Open your eyes," He whispered in between the groans, "look at me."

He spoke in such a tone that would get him anything he ever wished for, so you opened your eyes, finding him leaned down to you, staring at you in the mirror.

"That's right" He said with a smirk, as your mouth opened, letting the moans escape. It was a miracle that you didn't cum right then and there at the sight of him.

His lips found your neck, biting down right below your ear, moving his hips in the perfect position, "I'll stop if you close your eyes."

He moved his hand to your jaw, grabbing it to make you look at him in the mirror, primal hunger written in his eyes.

"You don't want me to stop do you? So, why don't you be a good girl and just look at me."

A moaned out "Yeah" is all you could answer, to which he smirked to, once again.

His hand stayed on your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheek, his muscular chest brushing up against your back, as he moved deep inside you.

The push, which you swore you felt in your stomach, made you squint your eyes and almost scream out, which was followed by Sam's grip on your jaw growing tighter.

"I said don't close your fucking eyes. Keep your eyes open." He spoke right below your ear, biting down on your neck once again.

And that was the tone and the words that made you clench around him.

Moaned out "Fuck, Sam" and "Oh god" Is all you could say, to which Sam teasingly chuckled.

"Yeah, baby, just like that" He spoke with a smirk, his eyes glued on yours. You felt your orgasm wash over your body, your legs starting to tremble, your body slightly pulling away at the overwhelming sensation, the feeling of him still keeping up with his pace being too much to handle.

"Push back" He whispered in your ear, which made you curse under your breath, whimpering in exhaustion.

"Push back." He now ordered, as you obliged to him, a loud groan escaping your lips at the feeling.

You heard him chuckle again, which told you he wasn't done with you. Not yet.

He had just started.

Maybe you would regret this in the morning when you sobered up, but the stars taking over your mind was all you could think about right now.

Wrote this quickly before bed.

Goodnight my freaky little tumblr users, hope u liked it :)

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: Age Gap, violence against healthcare workers, violence against violent patients, implied PTSD, threatening murder, crying, bad flirting, this is choppy af, please forgive me

Summary: After an attack by a patient retruning back to work does not go exactly as planned.

A/N: Listennnn people, I am so sorry that this took so long and this chapter is just to continue to build tension, I think I will conclude this with chapters 6 and 7, though I am not sure. I feel like the end would be more natural if I wrote another chapter during which they confess and maybe in the last chapter there is fluff and smut idk, but I still hope you enjoy this :) Also this is very, very, very losely inspired by ‚Shelter from the storm‘ by Bob Dylan

She wasn‘t sure what had shifted between them after that night, after death upon death coming their way something had changed. The tension that had been there before had not dissipated, it had begun to grow, though now there was more to it, more to the way his gaze lingered on her, more to the way she would seek him out in a crowded room. Then there was also the granola bar, she couldn’t eat one on her own now, always saving half for him, slipping it into his hand at a quiet moment.

He checked in on her more than before, it seemed that he hovered more, but he simply checked on how she was doing. Giving her more opportunities to try out something, quietly encouraging her. A warm hand on her back here, a gentle touch against her arm there.

It became a constant during her shifts, knowing that he wasn‘t far away at any given time, that he would be right next to her within the blink of an eye. For some reason it eased her mind, made her relax a little. The way she had always been a bit panicky during the shifts was now gone. Maybe because the lingering fear of him pushing her away again had finally started to dissipate.

On this particular evening shift change had gone smoothly. Standing at the nurses’ station she checked a few patient files, making sure that she knew what she was heading into. There was nothing too dramatic, though one name sounded familiar, yet she really couldn’t place it. Humming softly she looked around, most of the day shift had already left, only a few of the nurses and Dr. Robby was still lingering around. Sometimes she really wondered if Dr. Robby ever truly left this ED or if his body simply shifted to another place but his mind stayed here. Shaking her head, she checked the board one last time then started to head off towards one of the rooms she had been assigned to tonight, nothing world changing, but it was simple enough.

The tune still stuck in her head, humming softly as she started walking away, though before she was able to completely leave central a loud screech pulled her out of her thoughts. Whipping around she saw a large, burly man shove Princess to the ground, though he was not looming over the woman. His eyes snapped up, in her direction and he started stalking towards her, his gate stiff, like he was hell bent on bringing pain. Swallowing harshly she was frozen in place, fear curling up her neck as she stared at the man, she wanted to run, but then there was recognition. The guy that had cut this hand, the guy that she and Tommy had treated as their first patient together. He was only a few feet away from her now.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he hollered, taking another few steps towards her, practically looming over her now. His hands shot up, one to her throat, the other to her scrubs, his fist bunched in the black fabric while the other hand wrapped itself around her neck, squeezing hard. “YOU FUCKING SLUT, YOU THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Cold sweat ran down her back as she stared at him, getting light headed, panic seeping through her. Around her people were shouting, but his grip did not relent, though it felt like the grip around her scrubs had loosened slightly. Within a split second her brian made a decision, hoping that Gloria would not have her head for that. Grabbing his wrists she thrust her hip forward, pulling her knee up in the same motion. The grip on her throat and scrubs was completely gone the moment her knee connected with his groin, a howl of pain escaped the man. He took half a step back, her brain yelling at her, the fight or flight instincts kicking in the moment she had free range of motion she swung at the man, fist balled up tightly. It connected with his nose, a sickening crack echoed through the room, followed by a groan, two steps and thud, with the thud came another sickening cracking sound, his head hitting the ground. Staring at the crumpled form of the man on the ground her ears were ringing, everything around her spun like a mary go round, her own heart beat seemingly the only thing she could hear.

Her name was being called by someone, her first name, it cracked through the moment of shock like the sun breaking through thick clouds after a storm.

Looking up she saw him standing there, his eyes filled with concern, his mouth was moving, though she didn’t hear a single word, it was like someone had wrapped her in bubble wrap. Then her name fell again, two warm hands wrapping around her face.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle, gentler than it should be at that moment, she had just hit a patient, “Are you okay?” his brows were furrowed, his thumbs resting on her cheekbones.

“What?” she breathed out. Hot tears began to gather in her eyes, pain bloomed on her neck, and her hand. Glancing at her hand she could see blood, though she was not sure if it was her own or the guy’s blood. It was swollen, but not too much, it might just be a bruise. A wince of pain escaped her as she moved her neck. The spinning didn’t stop and a strange kind of nausea settled in her stomach. Trying to turn her head to look at the man on the ground Jack’s grip on her face tightened.

“Don’t look there,” his voice was gentle, he held her face in his hands, making her look at him. Shuddering breaths escaped her as she felt herself shaking.

“I think I need to sit down,” she whispered softly. He nodded, carefully his hands let go of her face, one of them went right between her shoulder blades, the other one rested on her shoulder, he slowly guided her towards one of the chairs by the nurses’ station. With so much care he navigated her to sit down, crouching down in front of her taking her uninjured hand in his.

“Alright, listen,” he gently tapped her hand, then her thigh, making sure that she was listening to him, “I am going to put you in line for an x-ray and a CT for now, just to make sure that nothing is broken or damaged,” he was still speaking in that soft tone, the kind of tone most people reserved for scared children or frightened animals. For a split second his eyes drifted towards her slightly swollen hand. She nodded, trying to only focus on the soft hazel colour that had bewitched her from the moment she had first seen them, “While you wait for an x-ray we are going to ice your hand, okay?”

She nodded, as he got up from the ground and was about to leave, she held on tighter to his hand, fear of being alone trickling through her mind. He stopped in his tracks, turning his head towards her and tilting it to the side in question. The shaking had only gotten worse and she felt like that if he left she would break down completely.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, feeling the tears running down her cheeks. The panic that wrapped itself around her mind, the panic that had kept her going was beginning to dissipate completely. The gravity of the situation only hitting her now, she had been strangled, he had threatened to kill her. Still she would consider herself lucky if Gloria didn’t take off her head for that, an intern assaulting a patient even in self defense.

“Alright,” he stopped in his tracks, looked around and called over Mateo, telling the nurse to get an ice pack. Her hand went to her throat, the heat coming off of it in the shape of a hand, the nausea buried itself deeper.

“I treated him,” she whispered softly, trying to give an explanation for what had happened, but couldn’t find anything, “I didn’t do anything wrong,” This time it was more wretched as she spoke, the tears now running uncontrollably. It started with a single sob until she was practically unravelled, sobs and hot tears, quiet whimpers escaped her. Clinging to Jack’s hand like a lifeline while everything around her felt cold and empty, the warmth in her hand a strange sense of comfort.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” coming out in quiet whispers or louder croaks while she cried. Seeing Jack move panic set in, he couldn’t leave, though he simply shifted, standing up from the kneeling position, carefully he bent down and pulled her into an awkward hug, the angle the fact that snot was running down her face and that her hands were uncontrollably shaking didn’t make it any less awkward, though his arms around her shoulders, the warmth of him, it was all so comforting in a strange manner.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you did everything right.” his voice was soft as he held her, “You did so well,” his hand was now in her hair. “You did so well,”

—————

Her hand had not been broken, simple bruising, just like her throat, though Gloria still put her on leave for almost two weeks, not chewing her up. The hospital board insisted that she should press charges. Though she was not too sure about it, not too sure that it was a good idea to do that.

It felt like she was climbing the walls of the apartment. Tommy kept her well informed about the gossip at work, though she knew that he probably left out the juiciest, hottest bet running at the moment. Still she felt like an animal, trapped in a too small cage.

The place felt cramped during the day and during the night, she barely slept, the melatonin gummies that usually knocked her out like a light didn’t work properly at the moment. While Tommy was at work and Masie slept she was left alone with her thoughts, with the feeling of Jack’s hand in her hair, the way his lips had brushed her forehead when he had pulled away from the hug the moment Mateo told him that she was next in line for the x-ray. She still wasn‘t sure how long he had held her in that awkward position. The panic setting in during the middle of the night, the feeling of the hand wrapped around her neck shooting back to the forefront of her mind, it felt like someone was torturing her.

Coping with it was hard so she baked and cooked. She was not sure how much she had made in the last two weeks, probably enough to feed all of Pittsburgh, they now had enough food in the freezer to get them through the next month or so and all of their neighbours as well as the day and night shift at the Pitt had gotten trays upon trays of her baked goods over the course of the last two weeks.

Tommy and Masie had both tried to talk to her about what had happened, but she did not want to talk about it. She really did not, even if it was Jack that asked her to talk about it she probably wouldn’t though it appeared that he had understood it rather well when he had comforted her.

Laying in bed she listened to Tommy and Masie talking in the living room, their voices loud enough for her to hear, they thought that she was sleeping, it made sense, she should probably be sleeping, but it eluded her like it had for the past few nights.

“Are you serious?” Masie sounded mildly scandalised as they were talking. She had closed her eyes, maybe it was to hear them better, maybe it was because she actually wanted to sleep.

“Yeah, I mean, he seems really worried about her. Always asks how she is doing when we do something together.” she heard Tommy sigh. “And listen Mase, I get that you have your girl’s code or whatever, but can you finally tell me what you know?”

“I told you a million times before, Tommy, I don’t know anything,” Masie sounded annoyed as she spoke.

She knew that it was a lie. Masie knew everything, she had been the first person she had told about her encounter with Jack at the hospital, she had been one of the people in her friend group encouraging her to talk to him. Masie knew almost every little detail about the night they had spent together and the feelings of betrayal connected to the whole situation, but also the longing and that deep feeling of connection she had never felt before. Masie knew about everything regarding Jack Abbot, to Masie he would always be the hot older guy she had met at the bar. The guy that had managed to get her more attached to him than anyone else had ever managed over years of trying.

“Please! I just want to know why they knew each other, I knew from the moment they first interacted that they knew each other, but come on! It’s just a little bit of information, what harm could it do?” Tommy sounded so desperate that for a brief moment she wondered how much money he had bet. Probably something in the mid two digit range.

“You know that you are talking to someone that works in protection of data privacy for a living right?” Masie sounded so deadpan that she almost had to laugh. For some reason listening to the conversation was slowly lulling her to sleep, the last thing she heard before completely drifting off to sleep was the quiet giggling coming from Maise, Tommy was probably tickling her.

The ghost of hands in her hair was a comfort she clung to, wishing for the warmth of the blankets to be the warmth of his body.

——————

Being back at work was not how she had imagined it to be, it was strange in the best way. People were excited to see her again, telling her that they loved all the baked goods she had sent to the hospital via Tommy. People asked her how she was doing, telling her that they were glad that she was back.

Yet the halls of the hospital felt strangely hollow, they felt haunted by the memory of those eyes filled with rage haunting her every step. The sound of threats being shouted seemingly choking her just like the feeling of a hand around her neck.

Standing at the nurses’ station she glanced up at the screen, arms crossed over her chest as she tapped her foot against the tiled floor. No one seemed to notice the nervous tick, even if they did, they probably decided to not mention it. She hadn’t seen Jack yet, it made her uneasy, made her want to rip out her hair.

“A word,” a warm hand between her shoulder blades, the rough and familiar voice of Abbot right beside her, still she flinched. Slowly he guided her away from the nurses’ station, she simply followed his lead, he maneuvered them into the staff lounge, closing the doors behind them, with the soft click of the door shutting she felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“You are on edge,” was the first thing he said to her, not ‘It’s good to see you again’ or ‘Nice that you are back’, no it was this. Though it felt right coming from him. There was no harshness to it, no judgement, just a simple observation. Even maybe some worry laced in his tone.

“Yeah, how couldn’t I be?” her voice was tight as she spoke. She was excited to be back at work, of course she was, she was happy to be back. The feeling of being caged was finally gone, but that panic having taken residence at the back of her head seemed to take its place.

“Of course, but you don’t need to be,” again there was this strange tone to his voice, it wasn’t judgement, it wasn’t worry, but it also wasn’t quite fondness though she would describe it as something close to that. He had moved across the room so that he was leaning against the counter.

“I know,” she nodded, the tension in the air crackled for a moment, it was like there was a rope being pulled tighter and tighter, the single strands slowly beginning to pop. “I just need to get used to it again,” she spoke softly, turning her head to the side just slightly. Turning her head back as she heard a sharp exhale.

“I know, they haven’t gone away just yet,” she whispered, gently touching her neck. The handprint on her neck was still visible, still there, it was faint, but people would still be able to see it.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” his tone was tight now as well, like he was contemplating saying something, “You need to know something,” he paused, his hands clamping down on the counter. “I wanted to apologize to you,” That knocked all the air out of her lungs, his eyes were gentler now.

“For something you had no control over?” she tilted her head, he shouldn’t be sorry for what happened. He had no control over that, he had no idea that the man was even there.

“No, for being an old, stubborn man,” a tint of humour coloured his tone, this time it didn’t feel like someone had knocked all the air out of her lungs, it felt like he had just thrown a brick at her. An old, stubborn man, something she had called him jokingly on the night they met, calling him that when he told her that he didn’t let people in easily.

Suddenly his pager went off, a groan escaped her. He pushed away from the counter as he passed her a playful glint in his eyes.

“And thank you for the brownies,” he paused, “Just the way I like them,” with which he left the staff lounge.

A small smile on her lips as she remembered thinking that he would enjoy them greatly while she made them, a soft flutter settling in her stomach, numbing the panic slightly.

———————

Tags: @antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06

[jinwoosungs]

01/16/25; 08:08pm

vi(olet) x fem.reader | modern au

notes: no joke, i’ve been having dreams of writing for vi, with @shouyuus as my hype woman 😭 so i might as well make my dreams come true.

warnings: unedited; drunk men being men; potentially ooc since i’ve never written for vi before 🙂‍↕️ vi and reader are both in their early twenties.

also, just in case if my more… intrusive thoughts win…

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

what does a girl need to do to get some peace and quiet at her favorite bar? you think to yourself while tending to your rum and coke, feeling those men’s eyes leering at you.

their hushed whispers about how fine your ass looked beneath that dress and how you needed a man like him to show you a good time made a shudder of disgust run down your spine.

your mood already ruined by the tense atmosphere, you down the rest of your drink in a few gulps, smoothing out the skirt of your dress while slamming a few bills down as payment for your lone drink. ignoring the footsteps that linger from behind you, your hands were outreached toward the door when a harsh whistle pierces through your ear.

“now hold on a minute, babygirl. what’s the rush?” the powerful scent of vodka fills your nostrils, making you nearly gag as the asshole seemed to wear the hard liquor as his signature cologne. “the night’s still young, and i’ve been eyeing your ass since the moment you walked in.”

grimy hands grip at your waist, making you face forward as your gaze burned with hatred for the bastard settled before you. his hair was slicked back with copious amounts of gel, as his chapped lips were cracked wide open in a shit-eating grin. “now, you’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?”

red hot fury blossoms across your veins as you lift a hand, ready to slap the drunkard when the sensation of your wrist being tugged backwards makes you gasp in response. your eyes go wide, seeing what had to be the fucker’s lackey restrain you. “let go of me!”

“and why should we, princess?” with you now restrained, he leans forward while inhaling your scent, pressing the tip of his nose against your neck as you could feel the bile rising up against your throat.

“she’s not interested.” a low, feminine voice was heard speaking from just a mere few feet away from you. your eyes land on the owner of that voice, seeing an attractive woman with layered, magenta hair and clear blue eyes looking down at her glass of whiskey. you swallow thickly, wondering what she was planning as you tried to pull your arm away from the man’s grip.

“what’s this? ah, i see. maybe you were needing to get some good dick as well.” he removes himself from you, sauntering toward the strangely alluring woman while pulling up his pants, “would you like to ride this as well?”

the woman finishes her whiskey in one swift gulp-

and the next moment she was on him. before he could even lay a hand on her, she had him pinned beneath the sole of her boots. annoyance was seen in her gaze as she brought down a hard punch against his face, busting his lip open as a painful crunching sound was heard, making you wince at the sight.

“boss!”

finally, the asshole relinquished his hold on you, letting you go to help the fallen man only to receive the same type of treatment from your savior. her combat boots met with his abdomen, making him keel over in pain as she tossed him aside and into one of the tables, making him crash unceremoniously into it.

“goddamnit vi! you just wrecked another table!” the bartender scolds the pink haired woman (vi, her name was vi), yet she ignored him. “just put it on my tab, jake!”

ignoring the men and the bartender, vi steps closer to you, giving you a better view of her face. her layered hair fell across her face, and you saw that it had subtle hues of pink from beneath the lighting. full lips were tilted up in a smile, and you felt warmth against your skin upon realizing that she had freckles dotted across her cheeks along with a tattoo that had vi settled just below her eyelid, “you alright sweetie?”

for some reason, when she called you sweetie, it didn’t sound condescending, but rather filled with concern as she knew just how uncomfortable it was for women to be in such a position. after taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you manage to give her smile and nod, “yes, but it was all thanks to you, really.”

vi’s eyes widen momentarily before pressing herself against you, running a hand down the expanse of your legs, “what’s your name?” your breathing hitches at the sensation of her hand traveling down your thighs, yet you manage to tell her the syllables that make up your name.

she repeats it, (as if tasting it on her tongue), before leaning in to whisper in your ear, “would you like to come home with me?”

and who were you to deny such a delectable request?

{ … }

the ride back to vi’s apartment was a blur, yet you could feel the tension. she expertly weaves through the road driving her stick-shift car (looking hot as hell each time she changed gears) with you clinging to her throughout it all.

you were barely aware of how she quickly parked her car in the lot, with you tossing open the door while allowing vi to interlock her fingertips with yours. they felt calloused against yours, and you briefly wondered if she was a mechanic or engineer of some sort, your mind painting you fantasies of vi working beneath a car with grease staining at the palm of her hands.

the sound of a door unlocking breaks you out of your reveries, with vi practically pulling you inside of her apartment before slamming the door shut. she pins you against her now locked door, hands pushing up the skirt of your dress as her eyes darkened at the sight. “you have now idea how pissed i was when those assholes dared to touch you.”

she presses herself against your front, easily picking you up by the back of your thighs before hoisting you up against her. she captures your lips in a searing kiss, forcing your legs to wrap around her waist. you moan against her lips, allowing her tongue to delve inside of your awaiting mouth. you could taste the lingering whiskey along with something slightly sweeter (was it cherries?) against vi’s lips, making you crave her even more.

while vi takes you to what you assumed was her bedroom, you remained tight in a lip lock with her, letting out a soft gasp when you felt your back meet the plushness of her mattress. pulling away from the kiss first, vi looks down at you, tracing at your lips made swollen by her kisses as she smirks in response. a wave of heat was felt shooting throughout your veins as a familiar ache was settled between your legs. you swallow thickly while clamping your knees together in hopes of assuaging the ache-

and your movements did not go unnoticed by vi.

“do you want it, princess?” her once true blue eyes were eclipsed by darkness, evidence of her pure desire for you when you felt her hands slowly gripping at the straps of your dress. with a hum of her name, you slowly wrap your arms around her neck, “of course i want it… i want you, vi.”

that was all the urging vi needed to continue, with her hands swiftly removing your dress as she left you in your undergarments. admiring the pretty lace that covers your breasts and keeps your center hidden, she traces along the fabric in a reverent manner before moving her hand toward your back, “as much as i enjoy seeing you in such pretty lace, these need to come off.”

expert hands remove your bra in one swift motion, making you gasp as vi tosses it to the side. when you were only left in your panties, you felt your throat turn dry as vi crawls down your form, settling herself between your legs as she grips at the underside of your panties with her teeth, sliding it off of your body in a far too sinful manner while allowing the flimsy fabric to hang precariously on your ankle.

with you utterly bare for the powerful woman settled above you, vi admires the sight of your aching cunt for a few moments, dipping a slender finger inside of you as she collects at your honeyed arousal. “you smell so sweet for me, princess. you won’t mind if i have a little taste, right?”

you shake your head, practically begging for her lips on your slick heat as your hands automatically delve themselves into her hair. she presses her full lips against your cunt, pumping a finger in and out of your heat while using her tongue to fully taste you. despite only meeting her a mere few hours ago, she played your body like an instrument, drawing out breathy moans and sighs with each lingering touch. and when you felt her gently pinch at your swollen clit-

you let out a broken sob, back arched against the bed as you spilled yourself into vi’s awaiting mouth. she swallows everything you had to offer with a shudder, letting out a string of curses in the process, “you taste so fucking good, princess.”

with your mind in a pleasured daze, you felt the pinpricks of pleasure still coursing through you even when vi removes herself from between your legs. vi places a hand on your knee, keeping your legs spread open for her as she rummages through her drawer for something.

“hang tight for me, princess.” vi quickly sheds her tank top and shorts while tossing them to the side, stepping out of her combat boots as they fell haphazardly against the hardwood floor of her bedroom. her back was facing you, and that was when you realized the true extent of her gorgeous physique as you admired the muscles that ran down her back. you didn’t know what she was doing until she faces you once more, making your mouth water at the sight of her beautifully sculpted body with a strap-on settled between her legs.

“i’m going to treat you well tonight.” she adds the needed lubrication down the shaft of her strap-on before rejoining you on the bed. anticipation courses through your veins the moment you felt vi tracing the tip of it against your slick folds while teasing your swollen clit with it, “after tonight, i don’t think i’m letting you go anytime soon, princess.”

and when she fully sheathes her toy cock within your soaked walls, you lost all of your senses while eagerly bouncing yourself on her strap-on, not minding the thought of solely belonging to vi one bit.

end notes: i’ve been referencing a little bit of rain’s own fics in this story, and im sorry if it’s bad 😭 if this is awful and no one likes it, then i promise i won’t write for vi anymore !!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[lowkeyren]

dangerous infatuation!

in which — you encounter blade while travelling on the xianzhou luofu with the astral express, who saves you from danger, and asks for a reward in return.

pairing — blade x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns)

₊˚⊹♡ — wc: ~1.2k, from req: here!, 500 words i said to myself and then i end up here, heart squeezed when i saw the ask, blade kissers rise!!!!!!! pls enjoy xx reblogs r much appreciated <3

walking through the unusually crowded streets of starskiff haven, you can’t help but be awed by the sight of the place. it was your first time on the xianzhou luofu, alongside you are your friends from the astral express. march was ahead, animatedly chatting with welt; while you lingered at the rear, taking in the sights.

the air was thick with the mingling scents of exotic spices and freshly cooked street food, engulfing your senses with every breath. in the midst of the bustling crowd, you spot a man who seems oddly out of place. his sole presence draws your attention, and when he catches your gaze, he locks eyes with you, returning your stare with a piercing intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

beside him stands an elegant woman, a jacket casually draped over her shoulders. but your eyes remain locked on the man; his compelling gaze holds a magnetic pull, and you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away. observing his features, he seems more and more familiar to you.

hey… he kinda looks like the guy on the wanted posters you’re seeing everywhere?? and that woman beside him too!

you don't notice yourself falling behind your friends until march calls out to you. “hey slowpoke, c’mon let’s go!” her words snap you out of your trance, and you quickly yell back an acknowledgment, before turning your attention back to the man —but he’s nowhere to be found.

a pang of disappointment washes over you as you scan the sea of faces, searching in vain for any sign of him. it's as if he was never there to begin with; with a heavy sigh, you reluctantly turn away, following march's lead as you weave through the people.

but even as you walk, your mind remains preoccupied with thoughts of him, his image burned into your memory like a flickering flame refusing to be extinguished, leaving you longing for another glimpse.

“hmm bladie… something caught your eye?” kafka's voice breaks through the air, a teasing lilt dancing in her tone. blade’s gaze follows you as you move along with your companions, “find out who she is.”

kafka matches his line of sight, spotting you in the distance. “ah.. the newest member of the astral express crew” she continues without waiting for his response, "you seem to have taken quite a liking to her."

blade doesn’t confirm nor deny her words, eliciting a knowing smirk from kafka.

the next few days on luofu feels…unsettling. you can’t shake the feeling of being watched, a prickling sensation that crawled along your skin; a shadow lurking just beyond your peripheral vision. every corner you turned, every alley you passed felt fraught with a sense of unease.

you arrive upon an alleyway, stopping to take a breather. then you feel that ominous feeling again, causing your hair to stand on end. a sudden, loud thump echoes in the distance, causing you to whirl your head in that direction. you find a man unconscious, sprawled on the ground; instinctively, your body tenses, and your eyes widen in shock.

before you can make a sound, a bandaged hand reaches out, silencing you with its firm grip over your mouth; a voice breaks through the stillness from behind you, “don’t yell.” your heart skips a beat as the hoarse voice brushes against your ear, the unexpected touch sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“...who are you?” your voice muffling against the hand.

“knowing who i am is unnecessary.” the grip on your mouth loosens slightly. without hesitation, you whip around, your weapon materializing in your hand, ready to defend yourself. but before you’re able to strike, your hand is seized mid-air, halting your movement abruptly.

“i-it’s you!” the dim light of the alleyway casts shadows across his features, but you still recognize him. “what did you do t—” your words are cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. in a swift motion, blade pulls you into a more secluded area, his body pressing tightly against yours.

guards swarm around the unconscious man, inspecting him closely. “that guy,” blade nudges his head in the direction of the man, “i saw him following you around.” everything in your head starts to click into place; he continues, “see that needle there.. he spiked it with sedatives earlier today.”

your pulse quickens as his words sink in, “don’t worry, he’s not dead, just…asleep, for a while.” (for a long while)

“i’m sorry, i thought you were going to hurt me— thank you…” he nods in acknowledgement. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he remains close even after the crowd has dispersed, a hint of blush colouring his cheeks, a contrast to his stoic look. you turn your head away, flustered by your proximity, your cheeks warming as you try to gather your thoughts.

he grasps your chin with his hand, your cheeks squished between his fingers; turning your head back and tilting it up to meet his gaze. “i just saved your life, aren’t you going to give me a reward?” you blink, trying to process his words, your face growing warmer each passing second under his intense scrutiny. part of you knows that this is wrong and wants to pull away, but another part is inexplicably drawn to his presence.

with a shaky breath, you manage to stammer out, "w-what kind of reward are you expecting?" your voice wavers. “you know exactly what i mean.” he remarks with a subtle smirk.

you decide to follow the urging of your heart, you lean in, pressing your lips against his, a brief and fleeting kiss. just as you begin to pull away, he pushes his other hand against the back of your head, drawing you back, deepening the kiss.

“[name]! where are you?”

march’s voice breaks through the moment, prompting you to push blade away abruptly. his annoyance evident in the slight downturn of his lips, and the subtle furrow of his brow. however, he quickly masks his emotions, returning to his usual deadpan face.

you give him an apologetic look as you peek out cautiously, catching a glimpse of march and welt’s figures in the distance, “i’m sorry bl—” you turn back only to find nothing except silence that surrounds you.

how does this man just keep vanishing into thin air?!

you shake off the lingering sensations, consciously calming yourself down from the rush of emotions stirred by the kiss. you place your fingertips against your lips, still tingling from the ghostly imprint of his touch; your heart thuds rapidly in your chest, each beat echoing loudly in your ears

oh aeons, you just kissed a criminal.

—

“bladie… looks like you enjoyed yourself, huh?”

"what?"

“you’re not fooling anyone” kafka points at her own lips.

what kind of smudge-proof lipstick do you wear… well at least it works... super well. he has a stain on the corner of his lips for the next few days.

“bro… you’re actually so downbad LOL. y'want me to track her location or sum?”

"...no need, i'll find her myself."

silverwolf won’t stop calling him a “simp”, whatever that means.

₊˚⊹♡

masterlist

[loves1ckmoth]

MISSIONS HINDERANCE

S1!Sevika x New Hire!Reader

Warnings ♡: Fem reader, sevika helps reader tie up their hair because it's a liability, Silco and Jinx are in the beginning, slightly suggestive, probably ooc idk

Word Count ♡: 991

The interview with Silco went better than you thought. It seemed you answered everything correctly, or at least correct enough. You didn’t grovel at his feet, though the idea lingered every time he stared at you just a little too long.

He sighs, looking up to the rafters of his office. “Jinx. Would you mind getting Sevika?” You freeze up as you hear a thud behind you, blue braids visible at the edges of your vision. How long had she been up there? How long had she been listening? “Are you sure you need her?”

Jinx’s voice is raspy and annoyed. He shoots her a glare and she sighs, conceding. “Fine… I’ll go get the ogre.” You’re left sitting there across from Silco and the air feels tense as you try not to shrink into yourself from his stare. “Your hair is a liability. You know how to put it up, don’t you?” His voice is stern, commanding an answer.

You shake your head in response. Growing up in the lanes had been hard, and since your parents weren’t around anymore due to a mining accident, it wasn’t like you had anyone to teach you. He groans and raises a hand to his face, rubbing his temples. “I’ll have Sevika teach you as well as assign you work. You’re promising enough that I’ll let this slide. Anything else however is something you will have to figure out yourself.”

You nod thankfully and the door behind swings open. Two pairs of boots thud against the ground before Jinx climbs back up to her spot in the rafters. You can feel another presence right behind you. “You called?” A gruff voice speaks. It’s rough, likely from cigar smoke and frequent downtime in the more polluted parts of Zaun.

Silco motions towards you. “She needs her job outlines and I’d like you to teach her how to tie her hair up out of the way.” You hear a groan behind you as Silco motions for you to leave. You stand and turn to face the woman, feeling anxious.

“Come on. I’ll get you set up.” Her metal hand beckons you forward, and you follow behind like a dog. The air feels just as tense when you walk with her as it did in Silco’s office. “He mentioned he was speaking to someone new today but I hadn’t figured it’d be someone like you. I figured much less that you’d cut.”

You feel embarrassed, looking up at her. She’s incredibly tall. You estimate her to be a little over 6 feet. “He said I was promising.” You offer quietly. She laughs but it sounds more like a chuff. “I’m sure he did.” She leads you into a smaller room and thumbs through some file cabinets. She grabs a small folder and tosses it in your direction.

“You’ll be in charge of mapping routes into Piltover. Think you can handle that?” You nod eagerly, happy that it’s one of the easier jobs. Fieldwork would’ve been much worse. “Good.” She sits in a chair, manspreading and sighing softly. “Come here. Sit in front of me.”

The implications make you flush, but you obey. When you get on your knees facing her, she laughs. “Not like that. Turn around.” She’s smiling now, grabbing your hair and collecting it all in one hand once your back is turned. “What? Did you think you’d get some so quickly after getting the job?” She whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“No, ma’am.” You say quickly, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. She quirks up an eyebrow and grabs a brush from behind her. “Aren’t you polite… Your hair is long enough that a ponytail won’t work. I guess we could braid you and pull it up into a bun? Yeah, that’d work.”

She murmurs to herself as she works. “Focus on the mirror in front of you. I’m showing you how I do it and after you’ll do it yourself so I know you understand. Got it, girl?” You nod and refocus your gaze on the mirror in front of you. Her hands are soft and tender enough to soothe.

“Wait… Can you show me how to braid again? I couldn’t see it.” You ask as you look up at her. She scowls, probably annoyed at having to do more work. She undoes one of the braids and shows you step by step how she does it. You copy her movements deftly. She uses various rubber bands to tie it back before shoving a pin through the bun to keep the whole thing together.

She settles her hands on your shoulders. “Think you can copy that?” You’re unsure but you take it all down and try yourself. The braids come easy after she shows you step-by-step instructions, but the bun is the harder part. You grumble angrily as the pin meant to hold it all together continually slips out of your fingers and your hair.

She smiles as she watches. She scoots forward and her hands take your hair. “Here. You loop it on its own and tie it down.” She instructs slowly, guiding your hands. “Wrap your braids around it and stick the pin through.” You finally manage to do it, gasping happily when it finally sticks.

She pulls back, getting ready to leave. “I assume Silco will make you start tomorrow. I'll drop off your specific tasks for the day in the morning, and he’ll have you turn them in by the afternoon. You should feel lucky he doesn’t make you do more strenuous work.”

“Thank you, Sevika.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t thank me for doing my job, dollface. Just make sure to do yours.” She says coldly before leaving the room and you. You quickly descend the stairs to the first floor of the Last Drop and out the front door. You hope it won’t be as awkward the next time you work with her.

Thank you all for the love on my last one, I wasn't expecting it to get that much attention, but it made me even more motivated to keep writing. I hope you liked this one ♡♡ Reblogs and likes are the most appreciated ♡

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Leaving it all behind||mafia!Max verstappen x Fem!reader

Summary— after saving y/n’s life max seeks out her friendship only to realize that he wants more then what his father wants for him.

Word count—2887

A/n I posted this to my last account but I figured I’d repost it but in parts as this entire for is 30k words long plus the one shots that take place after the fic

The city lay dark and restless under the weight of the midnight clouds. Max’s car glided down the empty streets, headlights slicing through fog that clung to the sidewalks. This part of town was his—a city carved out by generations of his family, each building tainted by their legacy. A legacy Max had always known would eventually fall on his shoulders.

He sighed, letting his hand fall from the steering wheel to drum absently on the gearshift. Nights like these always felt endless, each familiar street drawing him deeper into a life he was starting to question. He’d been told countless times it was his birthright, his duty to keep things running, but in moments like this—just him and the hum of the engine—he couldn’t help but wonder if this life was all he’d ever have.

That was when he saw her.

At first, it was just movement in the shadows, a sudden scuffle that drew his eye. A young woman struggled against two men, their laughter drifting cruelly into the night air. Before he could think, he’d pulled over, instincts taking over as he slid out of the car. His footsteps were silent, his expression deadly calm as he approached.

“Let her go,” he ordered, his voice cold enough to cut through the fog.

The two men turned, eyes widening as they recognized him, and the fear in their faces was unmistakable. Max had built a reputation; even in the dark underbelly of the city, his name held weight. They stumbled back, mumbling apologies before disappearing down the street, leaving him alone with the girl.

She looked up, breathing hard, her face partially hidden beneath strands of dark hair. Even under the streetlamp’s dim glow, he could see the defiance in her eyes—she wasn’t the type to easily back down. A part of him admired that.

“You alright?” he asked, softer now, watching her carefully.

She nodded, brushing herself off, her gaze wary but grateful. “Yeah… I didn’t need saving, though,” she said, a spark of pride in her voice.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I could tell,” he replied, “but sometimes it’s nice to have backup.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, eyes flickering up to meet him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence was charged and unexpected.

“Thank you,” she murmured finally, her voice losing some of its edge. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come along.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I rescued you from danger,” Max said with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood. He leaned against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Y/n regarded him with an arched eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. The remnants of adrenaline still coursed through her veins, but mixed with a tinge of fear, she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Max’s charm was disarming, but she couldn’t shake the unease she felt in his presence.

“Yeah, thank you for that, but I need to go,” she replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering nerves. She turned away, glancing over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in another unexpected situation. The weight of the moment hung between them, and with each step she took, she felt the distance growing—a mix of gratitude and caution urging her to leave before she got too drawn in.

Max only nodded, watching as she turned to go. He didn’t ask her name, but something in him twisted as he watched her walk away, that fierce determination etched on her face. She was like no one he’d met before. And he wanted to know more.

Over the next few days, she lingered in his mind like a melody he couldn’t shake. He knew he shouldn’t indulge this curiosity, shouldn’t look into her life, but he couldn’t resist. He had people at his disposal, and soon he had her name, her address, and details of her life that made his heart ache in ways he didn’t understand.

When he learned she worked at a little bookstore downtown, he couldn’t keep himself from stopping by one afternoon. He wandered in, pretending to browse the shelves, until he saw her—her head bent over a book, a faint smile on her lips.

She looked up, and surprise flickered in her eyes before recognition dawned. She stood, her hand brushing against a stray lock of hair as she offered him a tentative smile.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, her voice soft but curious.

Max shrugged, feeling suddenly out of place. He’d been to every luxurious spot in the city, but this small, cozy shop felt like another world. “Just passing by,” he said, though they both knew it was a lie.

They fell into an easy conversation, discussing books, the city, and life. And as the sun began to set, Max felt something foreign and unfamiliar start to build in his chest—a longing that made him question everything he thought he wanted.

Weeks passed, and their paths continued to cross until friendship gave way to something deeper. With every conversation, every laugh, every quiet moment they shared, Max found himself wondering if he could leave everything behind. If she could be enough to pull him out of the shadows.

But he knew the cost of that decision. Leaving his family’s empire wasn’t simple; there were loyalties, enemies, and countless secrets that held him captive. Still, when he looked at her—when he thought of a life beyond the city’s corruption and bloodshed—he realized he wanted something different. Something he could only have if he let it all go.

As he stood outside her bookstore one evening, watching the light from within spill across the pavement, he made a silent promise: he would find a way to be with her. Even if it meant sacrificing everything he’d ever known.

Max leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on the warm glow coming from the bookstore’s windows. It was late, and the street was quiet. Inside, she was closing up—a routine that had become as familiar to him as his reflection.

He shoved his hands in his jacket, watching as she tidied the display, her movements slow, practiced. Even after weeks of meeting almost every day, she had this effect on him. Every little thing about her held his attention and captured his heart as if it belonged to her.

The lights in the shop went out, and a few moments later, she stepped out. She started when she saw him, a hand on her heart as she let out a soft gasp. “Were you just standing there the entire time?”

Max shrugged, pushing off the wall as he took a step closer to her. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Just enjoying the view.”

She rolled her eyes but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “You need a better hobby.”

He chuckled, falling in step next to her as they began walking. “You’re my hobby,” he teased.

She shot him a look, the kind that was meant to be disapproving but couldn’t quite hide her amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”

Max just smirked, his gaze flicking down to her hand, to the slender fingers that were curled loosely at her side. He ached to reach out, to take her hand in his. But there was something in him—maybe it was the loyalty to the life he’d inherited, or maybe it was fear—that made him hesitate.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the streetlights casting long shadows around them.

“Hey,�� Max said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

She looked over at him, her eyebrows raised in question.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, her expression curious.

Max took a deep breath, bracing himself. “Do you think it’s possible to change? To make your path, even when you come from a life that feels...predetermined?”

Her expression softened, her gaze searching his face. “I think it depends,” she said slowly. “On how badly you want it, how willing you are to fight and maybe even lose things along the way.”

Max nodded, her words echoing in his mind, both confirming and intensifying his doubts. Losing things...he’d be losing a lot by choosing a different life—his family’s legacy, their empire, his father’s trust. But even the thought of losing her felt unbearable.

“So what if you’re not sure?” he found himself asking. “What if you have feelings you don’t quite understand, but you know they want…more?”

She regarded him silently, her eyes steady, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Max wondered if he’d said too much, or revealed too much. But then she looked away, a sigh escaping her lips. “Then I’d say you’re either being brave…or foolish,” she said finally, her gaze returning to him. “Because love can make you do both.”

Max swallowed, the word love hanging heavily between them. Was that what this was, this intense feeling that seemed to consume him every time he was near her? But loving her was like lighting a match in a powder keg. Could he set everything on fire for her?

As the weeks passed, Max became a regular at the bookstore, his visits blending seamlessly into Y/N’s day. They’d fall into easy conversations, and she’d tease him about his “terrible taste” in books, which he took with a grin, never revealing that he’d never really read much for pleasure before he met her. The darkness of his past and his family’s world seemed to fade in those quiet hours, and for the first time in his life, Max felt something close to peace.

The bookstore was a sanctuary. Away from the constant scrutiny, the threats, and the weight of his family’s name. He could just be himself here, free to laugh and chat and listen to her. It was her favorite place to be.

Max leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on Y/N as she moved between the shelves. There was a peacefulness to her rhythm, and he couldn’t help but feel a little mesmerized. The way Y/N’s fingers brushed over each book’s spine, her expression relaxed, made it look like they belonged here among the pages and stories.

“So,” he said, his voice barely louder than a murmur, “do you ever get tired of organizing these shelves over and over?”

Y/N chuckled softly without turning around. “Not when I have someone to complain to about it.”

Max grinned, feeling a spark of warmth that was rare for him. “Lucky me, huh?”

They both paused, letting the silence and the music fill the space between them. It was a shared comfort, a feeling that went beyond words. Here, in the stillness of the bookstore, Max almost felt as though they were the only two people in the world. Y/N finished sliding a book into place and turned, leaning against the shelf, her eyes meeting Max’s. “You don’t have to stay, you know. Not much entertainment here.”

Max smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. “Depends on what you consider entertainment. Watching you argue with those books as they move themselves? Riveting.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but Max caught the small, amused smile that slipped through. “Keep talking, and I’ll make you help. Alphabetize the romance section, maybe. Heard you’re a sucker for a good love story.”

He scoffed. “I think you’re confusing me with someone who has a heart.”

Y/N shook her head, the faint sound of JoJo by Wetwood Smokes filling the quiet again. She walked closer, books forgotten for a moment, until they were just a step away from him. “Yeah? Then what are you doing here?”

Max felt a tug in his chest he couldn’t quite ignore, his usual smirk softening. “Good question,” he murmured, more to himself than to them.

The air between them was thick with unsaid things. Neither of them spoke for a moment, letting the music and the shadows hold whatever words they weren’t ready to say. Finally, Max cleared his throat, shrugging in that casual, detached way he’d perfected. “Guess I’m just a sucker for bookstores. Quiet. No one is bothering you. Kind of place you can… just be.”

Y/N’s expression softened, her eyes searching his face as if she saw through every layer he tried to keep up. “Then you’re in good company.”

Max’s gaze lingered on Y/N, watching the way her face softened in the dim light. He wasn’t used to this, the quiet moments that seemed to slip under his skin, settling somewhere he couldn’t shake off.

Y/N tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So, what’s the verdict? Am I decent company for a night at the bookstore?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I guess you’ll do. I’d say you’re good enough to pass the time, but then your ego might get out of control.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Your standards aren’t that high. I saw you trying not to laugh at my jokes last week.”

Max scoffed, pretending to be offended, but a small smile betrayed him. “I wasn’t laughing. I was horrified. Pure survival instinct.”

They both laughed quietly, the sound warm and intimate in the empty store. The music faded into another soft, slow song, and they let the silence settle over them again, neither one in a hurry to break it.

Y/N spoke first, a little softer now. “Have you ever thought about it? Starting over somewhere? Just… a different life?”

Max’s usual mask faltered for a second, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. He looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Starting over, huh?” He let out a humorless laugh. “I think that ship sailed a long time ago for me.”

Y/N stepped a little closer, their voice gentle but insistent. “Maybe. But you never know.” She paused, searching his face. “I just think… you don’t have to be the person you’ve always been, Max.”

He swallowed, caught off guard by the honesty in their words. It was strange, unsettling even, having someone look at him like he was worth more than the pieces he kept hidden. For a moment, he wanted to believe them.

“Well,” he said, forcing a small smirk, “maybe I like the person I am.”

“Maybe.” Y/N shrugged, giving him a soft smile. “But I think there’s more to you than you let on.”

She held his gaze, and for once, Max found himself at a loss for words. Instead, he looked down, shaking his head slightly, but he couldn’t keep the hint of a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Max’s heartbeat was a little faster, his usual bravado slipping away under the weight of Y/N’s gaze. He could feel them watching him, and for once, he didn’t feel the need to hide.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “You keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you’re interested.”

Y/N’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m waiting for you to figure that out.”

Max’s throat tightened, the words lingering between them like a challenge, daring him to take a step he wasn’t sure he was ready for. He wanted to say something, anything that could brush off the tension, but the usual defenses weren’t coming to his rescue. Instead, he just looked at them, his eyes searching for hers, caught between the urge to run and the impulse to stay.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” he finally managed, his voice rougher than he intended.

Y/N shook her head, her smile softening. “Not all of you. Just enough to know there’s more to you than you let people see.” She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm for just a second before she pulled back, the touch brief but enough to send a spark up his spine.

Max inhaled, barely holding himself together. The gentle, honest look in Y/N’s eyes left him raw, and vulnerable, and he found himself wanting to let go, just a little. “So, if there’s more to me,” he said slowly, “why stick around? Don’t you have better things to do than try to figure out a guy like me?”

Y/N shrugged, her voice soft. “Maybe I don’t mind a mystery. Maybe I want to see what happens if you let your guard down.”

Max’s pulse pounded in his ears, his gaze locked on theirs. For the first time in a long time, he felt like the ground was shifting beneath him, the walls he’d built starting to crumble. He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. “You might not like what you find.”

Y/N just looked at him, their expression open, unafraid. “Try me.”

The words hung in the air, daring him, pulling him toward something he wasn’t sure he was ready to face. But standing there in the quiet of the bookstore, with nothing but the soft music and their steady gaze, he realized he wanted to try.

[httpsdana]

Can you do jealousy 1,3,5,7,9 with kenan? him and reader are out with their friends and kenan is jealous of this guy who y/n’s friends bought because he’s being too touchy and he’s acting like if he’s your boyfriend so one of Kenans friends jokes to him and says “if i didn’t know you guys where dating I would totally think they were dating” and kenan loses it but he loses it even more when this older couple makes a small comment of y/n and the guy?

Green-Eyed~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I only chose two of these prompts cause I can't really use all 5 together.

3-"Are you seriously jealous? It’s cute, but you have nothing to worry about."

9-"Do I have to remind him you're taken?"

Kenan’s hand rested on her back as they all walked into the bustling bar, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. He had his usual easy smile on, but she could feel the tension radiating off him as her friends made introductions.

One of them had brought an extra guy, and while y/n was too polite to say anything, she couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to linger a little too close.

Kenan and his friend slipped away to the bar to get some drinks, leaving her with her friends as the laughter and conversation continued around her.

She barely noticed their absence at first, until she felt a slight discomfort, realizing that Max, the guy her friend, had brought was still lingering a bit too close for comfort.

His hand brushed against her back as he laughed a little too loudly at something she'd said. She tried to ignore it, but the way his eyes kept following her, the way he leaned in when speaking, made her uneasy.

Meanwhile, Kenan and his friend were standing by the bar, chatting casually. Kenan’s friend leaned in a little closer, smirking as he looked back at her.

"If I didn’t know you two and I’d think they’re dating," he remarked, his voice low enough that Kenan couldn’t help but overhear.

Kenan’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening around his glass. His expression darkened in a way that was unmistakable, a flash of anger in his eyes.

He didn’t reply immediately, but his friend noticed the change and raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to say anything more.

As Kenan tried to calm himself, he glanced around. His gaze fell on an elderly couple sitting nearby, who were looking over at y/n and Max with an approving smile. The woman nudged her partner and said, "Aren't they a cute couple?"

Kenan’s blood boiled. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, and before he even realized what he was doing, he was walking swiftly back toward the table.

Without another word, he grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her seat. She was caught off guard by his sudden movement.

"Kenan?" she asked, glancing up at him, her confusion written all over her face.

His grip on her hand was tight, his usual calm demeanor completely gone. "We need to talk," he muttered, his voice tight and low, practically seething.

She followed him outside, still unsure what was going on. As soon as they stepped into the cool air, Kenan spun to face her, his eyes blazing with frustration.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, finally unable to hold back her curiosity.

Kenan’s voice was harsh as he replied, “I didn’t like that guy.” The words were thick with jealousy.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously jealous?" The realization hit her, and despite the situation, a small smile tugged at her lips. “It’s cute, but you have nothing to worry about.”

Kenan’s eyes darkened, his fingers tightening around her waist as he pulled her closer. "Do I have to remind him you're taken?" he asked, the question laced with jealousy.

She couldn’t help teasing him. "Maybe you do."

He didn’t need any further encouragement. His lips were on hers in an instant, a kiss that was both demanding and tender, as if he needed to feel her close, to prove that she was his.

The jealousy, the possessiveness, all melted away in that kiss, replaced with the reassurance that she belonged to him, and only him.

After a few moments, Kenan pulled back, his eyes searching hers. "Let’s go back inside," he said, his tone softening but still possessive.

She nodded, a smile spreading across her face as she took his hand. When they reentered the bar, Kenan kept her close, his arm around her shoulders, his lips occasionally brushing her cheek as a silent reminder to everyone that she was his.

Max who had been hovering earlier was nowhere to be seen. And just like that, Kenan had made sure no one would dare to get too close to her again.