#shoutout to my friend who told me to do this there was supposed to be a fandaniel chihuahua somewhere in there but i cant be assed add him

[akkalime]

they should've given zenos so much more cake

[caelesjjk]

𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕕 - 𝕛𝕛𝕜&𝕜𝕥𝕙

⟶ title: entangled ⟶pairing: spidey!jungkook x fem reader, venom!taehyung x fem reader ⟶au: marvel au ⟶ rating: 18+ ⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle ⟶ wc: 7.6k ⟶ warnings: Mnetions of blood and a wound, drinking, Jungkook calls you Data and Taehyung calls you Pigeon, infidelity-ish?? (you'll see), two smut scenes: oral (female and male receiving) mutiple orgasms, overstim, unprotected sex (thats a no, wrap it up) few different positions, making out, sweet kisses, nipple stuff ⟶ summary: Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend.

You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well?

Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world.

What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

⟶ authors note: hello darklings, its been such a long time. I apologize this took so long but it's finally here! I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of spidey!kook and venom!tae, they're truly my babies and I have loved writing them. This is only part one, I make no guarantees how quickly part two comes out, but I'll do my best I promise. I'm thinking probably four parts for this. enjoy! tell me all ur thots! Shoutout to M (@here2bbtstrash), Sav (@jeonjcngkook) and Kay (@tea4sykes) for looking this over and correcting my insanity and also assuring me that it's not terrible lol. Thank you all so much for your patience and help.

“So where is he?” your friend Penny says from across the table.

“He said he was coming.” You sigh, stirring your drink with the straw.

“He said that the last two times we were all supposed to study together.” Hoseok gives you a look that’s part sympathy and part annoyance.

“He’s working three part-time jobs. Not all of us have our parents paying for our apartments, Hobi.” You give him a playful glare and he returns it, followed by a poke of his tongue from between his lips.

Part of you wished you didn’t know Jungkook’s secret. That you could go back to the days where you were blissfully unaware of who he was. But back then, being stood up hurt even more because you didn’t know why.

Now you know. You know that Jungkook is Spider-Man. The infamous superhero  with powers he acquired from being bitten by a lab altered arachnid a few years ago.

He saved your life. Twice in fact. Both times it was because you were curious, too curious for your own good, and you had been suspecting something was going on with Jungkook. 

You followed him one night and watched in awe as he changed into his Spider-Man suit in an alleyway. And not just because he was Spider-Man, but because he was insanely gorgeous. You were hypnotized by the man who had been sitting next to you as your lab partner for most of the year. Who constantly hid his body beneath baggy clothes and bucket hats. 

You had always liked him a little more than you cared to admit. And after you found out the truth about him, your friendship grew into something more.

There weren’t any labels; you didn’t call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, much to your dismay. But Jungkook always told you that if the wrong person found out about the two of you, they could use you to get to him. And he needed to be able to focus on his whole saving the world gig, and not constantly worry about your safety. 

You understood. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting a little.

You manage to study a bit longer with your friends before deciding you were far too distracted. You call Jungkook on your walk back to your apartment, but of course he doesn't  answer. 

So now you wait. And you worry.

No matter how hot the shower water is as it hits your back, it doesn’t stop the worry. You just want him to be safe, even if he pissed you off by not showing up again. 

You wrap yourself in your favorite silky robe and get comfortable on your bed with some of your homework you didn’t finish with your friends, slowly getting immersed in all of the calculations and formulas that you love so much. They were a great distraction.

Not sure how long you’ve been studying, you get up to stretch and make your way to your apartment balcony, opening the doors and stepping outside for a breath of fresh air. 

The city is always loud, but up here it isn’t so bad. The traffic sounds far away and the lights are just flickers across the skyline. You might even think it was beautiful if it wasn’t for the constant bad lurking around every corner. Or maybe you had just heard too many scary things from Jungkook.

Sighing when he pops into your head again, you turn around to head back inside only to come face to face with the superhero in question. Seeing him hanging there upside down from your doorway startles you just enough to send you stumbling backwards towards your balcony.

Before you can get too far, or even fully scream, Jungkook is shooting a web at your torso, pulling you back and into his arms as he flips down onto his feet. Your head swims from how quickly it happens.

“Data, look at me.” Jungkook’s voice is slightly muffled through his mask. “It’s just me.”

“You scared me.” You look up at him as he removes his mask and shakes out his hair, eyes finally meeting yours. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been…noisier.” Jungkook smiles and you almost forget that you’re angry with him. Almost.

“What are you doing here anyways?” You shove against his broad chest and feel his arm release your waist. He sighs, following you inside your apartment.

“I know you’re upset I missed the study session…” Jungkook starts to explain, but you twist back around to face him.

“If my friends hadn’t seen you around campus now and then, they would think I made you up, Jungkook. You never show. It makes me look pathetic.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for the next excuse.

“You aren’t pathetic, Data. I’m just…” Jungkook winces when he reaches for you, a hand moving down to his ribs in pain. “Sorry, it’s healing, it's  just slow.”

“What’s healing? What happened to you?” You let the fight go for a moment, closing the space between the two of you and moving his hand out of the way.

Beneath his fingers is a large cut, bloody but half-hidden by his suit. It looks angry and inflamed. What could’ve made a cut like this?

“It’s nothing. I’ll heal up in a couple hours.” He pulls your hand away, blood stained on the tips of your fingers. 

“It won’t matter how quick you heal if it gets infected. Come in here.” Your hand wraps around his and you pull him into your small bathroom. You steady him against your vanity and move to grab your first aid kit from the cabinet above your toilet. “Take that off.” You gesture to his Spider-Man suit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jungkook teases, gingerly working his top half out of the suit. He hisses through his teeth as he peels the suit away from his ribs and lets it hang at his hips.

You are not the universe's strongest soldier.

Your eyes drift over all the dips and curves of muscle. A perfectly sculpted chest and abs you could literally eat off of are right in front of you, scrambling every sense you have in your head. You need to focus. Stay focused on the task at hand and not his ridiculously toned body.

“You okay, Data?” he asks, humor in his voice. That horrid nickname he had given you in your first year as lab partners is feeling more endearing these days. You clear your throat.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Just tending to Spider-Man’s wounds in my extremely tiny bathroom.” You try to laugh but it doesn’t sound genuine.

You take out some bandages and gauze and get to work cleaning him up. But even as you tape down the gauze, you can visibly see the wound getting smaller. Super powers really are something else.

“Data.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality. 

“What?” You sigh.

“Please come here.” His hands reach for your hips and you give in, letting him pull you until you’re flush against him, suddenly nose to nose. “That’s better.”

“I’m angry with you,” you whisper, heart pumping a bit faster in the close proximity.

“I know that you are. I’m really sorry…I swear I wanted to be there.” You look down to see him slip his gloves off and sit them on the countertop before his hands come up to cup your face.

“Then what happened? You need to tell me.” Your hands wrap around his wrists.

“There’s something out there, Data. A…monster that we can’t figure out. It’s strong…and fast. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.” His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth. 

“What does it want?” 

“It keeps breaking into the Lab across the River. It’s looking for something. No one at the lab is being very forthcoming with information.” His forehead presses to yours. “But Mr. Kim is working on that part.”

Kim Seokjin, more famously known as Ironman. He was a mentor and a good friend to Jungkook. He was helping Jungkook navigate the new world of being a superhero and also gave him a job to help him pay for school. 

“Hasn’t Mr. Kim told you to call him Jin over and over?” you tease, hands coming up to rest against his chest. Jungkook laughs quietly, pulling you closer.

“He has. Guess it just slipped out.” His hands move down to palm your ass.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You raise an eyebrow in question of his actions.

“Just feels like I haven’t touched you in so long.” His warm mouth finds your throat and he presses kisses to the skin.

“Two days is a long time?” 

“It is when it comes to you. Thinking about how much I want you gets so distracting.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, making you giggle.

“So what I did for you two days ago wasn’t enough?” You let your hands slither down from his chest and over the planes of his stomach.

“Never enough.” His nose skims over your jaw until you’re back face to face and his lips are devouring yours. “I’d like to pay you back.” 

“How?” You moan when you’re cut off by his tongue sliding into your mouth.

“Let me show you?” Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom.

Thinking he means to lead you to your bed, you start to pull him towards it, but he seems to have other ideas, walking you back out onto the balcony. He releases your hand momentarily to slide his suit back up over his shoulders.

“What are you going to show me out here, Jungkook?” You start to feel suspicious.

“Do you trust me?” He jumps up onto your railing with ease, still holding your hand in his.

“Not if it involves you swinging me around off the side of buildings.” You start to pull back, but his other wrist shoots a web at your torso; using his inhuman strength, he pulls you up onto the railing into his arms.

“I would never let you fall. Never. Just close your eyes for a few minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it, Data.” He touches your cheek gently, and even though you want to throw up every time he does this, you close your eyes and wrap your arms as tightly as possible around his neck and your legs around his waist. “Ready?” He whispers in your ear, one strong arm wrapping around your back.

You don’t verbally answer, just nod once before burying your face into his neck.

And then the solid feeling of being on the ground disappears and the sickening feeling of free falling is very apparent. You try to breathe, squeezing yourself around Jungkook as you listen to the whooshing sound of his web shooters discharge as he swings you between the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re doing amazing.” Jungkook kisses your cheek. “Just another minute.”

You keep your eyes clamped shut until the curiosity becomes too overwhelming, making you dare to peek just the slightest bit. You see the sun setting on the horizon, orange and purple hues slowly disappearing beneath the river. As long as you don’t think about how high up you are, it really is beautiful up here.

You soak in the feeling of Jungkook holding you so tightly because you never know when the next time may be. You hate to sound so dramatic in thinking that way, but it really is a guessing game sometimes . Your hands loosen and slide up into his hair, making him look down into your eyes and smile when he sees how fondly you’re looking back at him.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, even though there isn’t a single soul that could hear you up here.

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth and then the other before the softness of his lips has your eyes fluttering closed. This kiss is only gentle brushes of lips, noses grazing in the sweetest way you can imagine, all the while Jungkook is still effortlessly swinging you between buildings.

He shoots a web straight up into the air, letting it connect to the side of one of the tallest buildings, slowly pulling the two of you up until he’s reached the highest ledge, tapping your thighs so you know it’s safe to put your feet down. You kiss him once more before you open your eyes and look out at the nearly complete sunset…a thousand feet in the air.

“Why are we up here, Jungkook? You know the heights..” He kisses you again before you can finish the sentence.

“Can we try something?” He smiles, and it’s infuriating. You’re too weak for this spidey boy. You sigh with exasperation.

“I’m already very wary of saying yes.” You look away from the ledge towards the top of the building, taking note of all the intricate filigree and gargoyle statues.

“Let me make you feel good…up here.” His cheeks heat a little when he asks.

“Is this some kind of weird adrenaline thing? Why would you want that?” Your voice cracks and you sputter, disbelief heavy in your tone.

“I think it’ll be intense…feel so good.” His lips move down and his teeth nip at your jaw.

“It’s insane…” You melt into his touch and the way his mouth sucks at your neck.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll take you home. And I’ll get you naked in your bed instead.” He pulls your shirt over your head, fully knowing you’re about to give in.

“Bed sounds so good right now…”

“Please, Data…just try it.” He tosses your shirt to the side, cupping your breasts and kissing the tops of them.

“What do I have to do?” You feel too good to let the fear ruin the way he’s making you feel.

“Lie back on the ledge, with your arms above your head and your wrists crossed.” 

You let him lead you down onto the ledge, every nerve in your body hot and on edge. Jungkook makes sure that you’re settled before he stands back up straight, looking down at you while you slowly move your arms above your head the way he asked.

“You’re perfect, Data.” Jungkook stares at you a moment longer before he aims his web shooter and traps your wrists together against the concrete ledge beneath you.

Your chest heaves at the idea of being completely helpless. He’s taken away your control and your ability to touch him as you please. 

He makes quick work of the sleep pants you had been wearing, tossing them away to join the gargoyles on the rooftop. 

“Jungkook…” you whimper when he lowers himself between your legs and lies down on his stomach so he can be face to face with your heat.

“Relax, okay? I’m gonna make it up to you.” He kisses a path down your thigh, sucking gently and caressing with his tongue.

You arch your back from the ledge when he pushes your panties to the side and his mouth finally makes contact with your pussy. Just a sweet kiss at first, then a deep, swirling lick to your clit. You pull against the webbing trapping you in place, fingers begging to be in his hair.

If only the citizens of his precious city could see him right now. Face buried and tongue lapping just for you. All of it for you and not for them.

You can feel tears start to form in your eyes from the way your orgasm is already so close to crashing over you. Jungkook has spent quite a bit of time getting to know your body and memorizing the things he knows that you like.

“Come on my tongue, baby. I’ve got you.” Jungkook soothes before his mouth is back to devouring you.

One particularly harsh suck to your clit while his fingers finally join in on the fun is what sends you over the edge, clenching around his digits in spasms.

You’re lucky that no one could possibly hear you all the way up here. The moans and groans that you both make while Jungkook licks up every bit of your arousal are beyond obscene.

“Please get this web off of me,” you huff between breaths. Jungkook slowly raises his head and with a smile on his shiny face, reaches up and effortlessly rips the webbing from your wrists. 

You jolt upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your hands into his soft hair. Your mouths mold together automatically, your tongue tasting yourself from his lips.

“Did you like it?” Jungkook finally asks, pulling you into his lap.

“As long as I continue to pretend we aren’t thousands of feet in the air, I enjoyed it very much.” You both smile and you lean in to kiss the corner of his pierced lip. “You can’t always distract me with your extremely talented mouth though. I just…want you to try and be in my life.” You push some hair off of his forehead before he kisses your lips once more.

“It won’t always be this crazy, Data. I promise. I just want to make sure I help Jin as much as I can with this monster.” 

“I know.” You want to tell him that you wish you came first. That there’s always going to be another monster keeping you apart. But that’s the price you pay for loving a superhero. 

“Let me take you home?” He stands up, still holding you in his arms.

“Maybe let me put my pants back on first?” You laugh as he sets you down to retrieve your pants from a gargoyle statue. 

And then you’re back in his arms and swinging back to reality.

The sun is still warm even though fall is almost in full swing. Leaves are starting to change colors and slowly drop off the trees. You love the smell of them as they dance by you on the breeze.

Something you don’t love is the damn pigeons that have made their home in the nooks and crannies of all the old buildings on campus. They fly down from their nests and make nuisances of themselves with the students, trying to get pieces of food.

You’ve been continuously shooing them away as you attempt to do your homework. 

Sitting in the courtyard on top of a patchwork blanket, you’re lost in the numbers and formulas that keep you best distracted these days. So much so that you almost don’t see Jungkook before his head is in your lap and his smiling face is looking up at you, pigeons scattering about from his sudden movements.

“Good afternoon, Data,” he says cutely. You set down your notebook and pen, leaning down to kiss him.

“How nice to see you at school for once,” you tease, pulling his bottom lip gently between your teeth.

“Mm, things have been quiet for a couple of days. I got some sleep…and I missed you.” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to lay down with him across the blanket.

“What are you doing?” You laugh and push against his chest.

“Making sure everyone sees me kissing you.” 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” You comb your nails through the hair at the nape of his neck. “If the wrong person sees?” 

Jungkook freezes for a moment, his eyes not meeting yours as his face scrunches in concentration. He abruptly sits up on his knees and you follow, looking around the courtyard.

“Something isn’t right.” Jungkook’s voice is low and quiet.

“What is it?” You continue to look around, seeing students walking to class or enjoying the sun in the courtyard like the two of you were.

Your eyes stop when you notice someone by the fountain taking photos with a professional type camera. His head of black messy hair is covered by a backwards black baseball hat. Long legs covered by snugly fit black jeans and his top half in a white button up, sleeves rolled halfway up in the most maddening way.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he’s suddenly looking right at you and you’re able to recognize who it is you’ve been drooling over. You feel embarrassment flood your face and body as you quickly look away, your heart racing in your chest.

Kim Taehyung. A photography student at your university. The best photography student if you remember correctly. You remember having a basic class with him your first year and he had seemed very nice. His smile was sweet, but the two of you didn’t talk to each other much at all. 

You did think he was absolutely stunning though, sometimes wishing you weren’t too shy to have spoken to him back then.

Your classes must have all been different after that, but you still see him around campus from time to time. Always taking pictures, but always alone. And last year he seemed to disappear altogether before reappearing when the new semester started.

When you get brave enough to look back up at him, you see he has his camera pointed at you, snapping pictures. You look away again so as not to alert Jungkook of what’s going on. Taehyung smiles when you look up out of the corner of your eye, before moving on to take pictures of something else. Why is your heart beating so fast?

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks, making you jump.

“I should be asking you that,” you manage to croak out.

“That weird sense of something being off is happening… I should go.” He starts to stand up and you grab his hand.

“What about this weekend? You’re still coming out with us right?”

He bends down and captures your lips in a quick but sweet kiss. “I promise I won’t miss it.” He gently nudges your forehead with his, making you roll your eyes with a smile as you watch him jog across the courtyard.

“Was that Jungkook?” Hoseok asks, sitting down across from you on the blanket.

“Um…yeah. He had to get to class,” you lie. Again. “Hey Hobi?”

“Yeah?” He stops grabbing books from his bag and looks up at you.

“What do you know about Kim Taehyung?” You nod towards the man with the camera, still taking pictures of some angel statues on the far side of the courtyard.

“He’s supposedly the best photography major at this school. He’s also…strange.” Hobi pretends to get a chill.

“Strange? Strange how?” You’re interest even more peaked than before.

“I don’t know, ____. I just heard some shit about him talking to himself all the time, and sometimes he comes to class all beat up.” Hobi brushes it off like it’s no big deal.

You don’t pester him any further, instead watching Taehyung as he takes a seat on a bench and starts scrolling through the pictures he’s taken on his camera. 

Maybe people are making things up about him because he’s different. People don’t like different for some reason. But you…you tend to be pulled towards the different. Or it tends to find you when you least expect it.

Saturday night has come and almost gone, and you’re still waiting for Jungkook to show up at Club Onyx to meet up with you and your friends. You’ve been waiting for hours and downing drinks the longer you go unanswered.

You’ve called and texted him over and over with no answer and are finally ready to just give up. Hobi gives you that pitiful look as you slam your phone face down onto the table.

“Fuck this, I’m getting another drink.” You don’t say it to anyone in particular and you don’t wait for anyone to answer before slipping into the crowd towards the bar.

“Can I get a Long Island please?” you ask the bartender when she approaches. You slouch down onto a barstool and see a familiar face on the other side of the bar.

Taehyung. Sitting with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. The hat you usually see him wear is nowhere to be seen. Instead, his curly black hair has been somewhat styled over his forehead. He’s still wearing a white button up, but he’s left the top buttons undone this time, revealing the smooth skin of his chest.

“Here you go.” The bartender hands you your drink just in time for Taehyung to look up from his phone and see you already looking at him.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, taking your drink and making a break for the dance floor as quickly as you can. 

The song playing isn’t one that you know, but as you chug down your drink you start to care less and less about knowing the song and just let yourself go. You want to have a good time and not mope about Jungkook standing you up once again.

You let strangers grind against you as you move across the dance floor, arms raised above your head and your hips swaying to the beat of the song. You’re a little tipsy as you place your glass down on the nearest table, but not enough to not know what’s going on. 

A slower song starts to play with more of an r&b feeling. You watch as people start to pair off, the movements of their bodies making heat rush through you and settle on your cheeks and  neck. You start to turn back to find your friends when you feel an arm slide around your waist, making you jump from the suddenness of being touched.

“Easy there, Pigeon,” a voice as deep as the ocean and smoother than satin says against the shell of your ear.

You twist your neck almost too quickly, eyes landing on the face of Taehyung. Your breath nearly disappears completely seeing him this closely.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but you don’t try to move away from him. God, you should move away but you can’t.

“You need someone to dance with.” He smiles and says the words with a matter of fact tone.

“I should find my friends…” Your brain finally starts to catch up and you move from his hold.

“One dance, Pigeon. Would be a pity to waste such a good song.” 

“Why are you calling me Pigeon? I have a name.” You fold your arms over your chest.

“I know your name. But the pigeons at school seem to have really taken a liking to you, I couldn’t resist.” His boxy smile widens.

“You’re not being very convincing about this dance.” You try not to smile.

Taehyung puts his hand out asking silently one more time for you to dance with him. There’s that nagging feeling that you shouldn’t, but there’s a bigger part that says Jungkook isn’t your boyfriend, and he stood you up after he promised not to miss this night.

You take his hand.

Taehyung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and gently pulls you towards him, spinning you around at the last second to press your back against his front. You gasp when you immediately feel him lean over you and press his face into your neck, his nose skimming your skin.

His big but delicate hands find your stomach, slithering down until they reach your hips, slightly bunching your dress in his fingers.

He gently moves his hips and grinds against your ass in the most tantalizing way, reminding you that you did in fact agree to dance. Taehyung groans quietly in your ear when the pace of your hips becomes quicker with more added pressure from your ass into his crotch.

You let yourself relax against him, head falling back against his shoulder and exposing more of your neck to him. His impatient mouth finds the juncture of your neck and shoulder and he kisses a soft line across your skin.

“Can’t believe your boyfriend would leave you all alone out here where the monsters can find you.” Taehyung's deep voice vibrates through your body and settles into your core.

“I don’t have a boyfriend…or monsters.” The words come out sounding breathless as he continues to press your body closer to his.

“We think you do.” His long tongue traces the shell of your ear. 

We? You let it go because your brain is too foggy with lust to wonder what that could even mean right now.

“I don’t,” you repeat, pushing thoughts of Jungkook away for just a night. Taehyung laughs quietly, pulling your lobe between his teeth as his hands move up your chest to cup your breasts.

You don’t even care who sees the way he’s touching you right now. You’re becoming so turned on that you know your panties have to be absolutely ruined at this point.

“Come home with me.” He spins you around to face him just as the song ends, your eyes fluttering open as he cups your face in his hands.

“That…I can’t.” Your eyes search his, hoping it will make you realize that you need to walk away. Instead, there’s something that tells you you’re safe, but that you’re also in for a world of trouble. You don’t know how you know, you just do.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Pigeon.” His mouth is almost on yours, lips just brushing as he whispers. This man is fucking undeniable.

“Okay,.” you cave. You just want to feel wanted. You want to matter more than a stranger on the street. You want Taehyung to make you forget how much it hurts when Jungkook lets you down over and over again.

“Good girl.” His warm mouth slots with yours as he kisses you feverishly. Like he’s been starving for years and your mouth is his only source of sustenance. It’s hot, fiery, and all-consuming.

Not even sure when his lips leave yours, you’re suddenly being pulled by your hand towards the club exit. Your brain clears and you look around for Hobi or any of your other friends but you don’t see them. And honestly, you hope that they don’t. You hope they didn’t see what happened on the dance floor and you hope they don’t see you leaving with someone who isn’t Jungkook. That would be far too messy to have to explain.

“Did you drive here?” You squeeze Taehyung’s hand and he pulls you closer to him.

“I did. I didn’t even finish my drink, I promise I’m safe to drive.” He eases your mind as the two of you push out of the door and turn towards the parking lot.

But your mind is only at ease for a mere minute before you realize that Taehyung is leading you towards what appears to be a very, very fast motorcycle. Everything on it is jet black and ridiculously sexy. You wish you weren’t absolutely terrified.

“I’m not getting on that.” You stop in your tracks.

“Why not?” Taehyung grabs the helmet off the back and offers it to you. “I’ll even give you the helmet.”

“I just…that looks dangerous.” 

“It is.”

“Glad you’re honest,” you half-laugh.

“The bike is dangerous, but I would never let anything happen to you, Pigeon.” Taehyung swings one of his long legs over the motorcycle, straddling it as he waits for you to make a decision.

“We hardly know each other, Taehyung.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t keep you safe on my motorcycle, or that we have to know everything about each other to feel something.” He holds the helmet out again and you feel your mouth go dry at his words.

The danger aside, there is no going back if you get on that motorcycle with him. There is no way you would have an untainted conscience ever again. Every time you were with Jungkook from this day on, you would have to think about the fact that at this moment, you also wanted Kim Taehyung to fuck you.

That should terrify you more than it does.

You grab your phone and quickly open it to see no messages or missed calls from Jungkook. Your answer gets a little clearer as you reach out and take the helmet from his hand.

“Carefully,” Taehyung says, taking one of your hands and guiding you to straddle the motorcycle behind him. You settle the helmet onto your head, and Taehyung smiles widely when he looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re ready. 

When he starts the motorcycle, the vibrations from the engine immediately flood your body. Your arms instinctively wrap around his torso as tightly as possible, and you wait once again for the world to go past you far too quickly. The same way it always does when Jungkook is swinging you between buildings.

When he pulls out of the parking lot, he doesn’t go too fast like you thought he would. He takes his time weaving between the cars and taxis, making his way through the busy streets and closer to the docks. 

You don’t entirely hate the motorcycle ride. Nor do you hate the way Taehyung laces his fingers through yours and holds them against his chest, or the way he brings your knuckles to his lips to brush a kiss against each one while he steers with the other hand. You don’t hate the way he sometimes moves that hand down to tap your thigh to let you know he’s about to make a sharp turn. You wish you hated the motorcycle ride.

Taehyung presses a button on his phone and a door on one of the warehouses starts to lift up. He pulls through it, parking the bike once inside. Your legs feel like jello when you take his hand to try and stand up, stumbling a bit in his hold.

“Okay there, Pigeon?” Taehyung grasps the sides of the helmet and helps you take it off. He sits it on the back of the bike before coming back to help you straighten out your helmet hair.

“It wasn’t terrible.” You smile and so does he, fire moving through your veins the longer your eyes stay locked with his. You quickly clear your throat. “So, you live in a warehouse?”

“I used to live in the city. It was just too…busy. I needed space.” He takes your hand and leads you towards some metal stairs. But before he does, you notice several more motorcycles parked inside the open part of the warehouse. Who is Kim Taehyung?

At the top of the stairs, it opens into a large open loft area that has a surprising feeling of comfort to it. There’s a kitchenette off to the right with just the necessities: a fridge, small table, stove and microwave.

The left side of the room appears to be the bedroom. A big messy bed sits against a headboard with intricate black vines carved into the wood. Soft pillows are haphazardly lying in all directions, some on the floor with their feathers scattered across the room. Taehyung visibly stiffens when he sees you notice them.

“Sorry about those…I think I might have a raccoon stuck in here somewhere.” He laughs and moves to kick the busted pillows under his bed.

Strange. He’s a little strange.

“Do you need something to drink?” he asks.

“Should I be worried about being here, Taehyung?” 

“What? No. No, I promise you’re safe.” He crosses the room and comes to stand in front of you, concern evident on his perfect face.

“I just…I don’t do things like this. I’ve never even had a one night stand.” You card a hand through your hair and Taehyung tips your chin up to look at him.

“Why does it need to be just one night?” His face softens and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“Taehyung…I don’t know what I’m doing.” It’s barely a whisper.

His head tilts slightly to the side before it spasms slightly, an uncomfortable look painting his face as he shakes his head and gets the spasm under control. 

“Stop it.” Taehyung grits between his clenched teeth, mostly to himself.

“Are…are you okay?” Your worry grows by the second.

“Sorry…I’m sorry.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly, catching you off guard. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I’m not scared of you.” It isn’t a lie. You aren’t scared, but something is off. And you’re too stupid to leave. “Should I be scared?”

“Not of me.” He speaks as if someone else is in the room. 

His mouth finds yours again and lust takes the place of worry and concern. Taehyung easily grabs your thighs and lifts you off the ground as if you weigh nothing at all.

The next moments are a blur of clothing being stripped and bare skin coming in contact with hands and lips. Teeth scrape over nipples and long fingers drown themselves inside your dripping pussy. The warehouse echos with the sounds of your moans and his deep groans.

After your first thigh shaking orgasm, Taehyung sits on the edge of his bed and you kneel in front of him between his knees, taking his far too perfect cock into your mouth. You worship him with your tongue and make him come down your throat, his hands tightly gripping your hair.

Chills run through your sweaty body as he bends you over his bed and eases his cock inside you. Stars explode behind your eyelids while your fingers grip the bed sheets.

“He doesn’t fuck you enough, does he Pigeon? You’re so fucking tight.” Taehyung’s fingers dig harshly into your hips as he mercilessly pounds you from behind.

You can only moan in response, the coil in your stomach tightening and threatening to burst again. Tears slip from the corners of your eyes and stain the sheets you’re so desperately clinging to.

His fingers suddenly start to feel sharper, like they could pierce your skin at any moment, past the point of hurting in a good way.

“Stop,” Taehyung growls and the piercing feeling of his fingers starts to let up. If your brain wasn’t so fogged by your oncoming orgasm you may have questioned who the hell he was talking to.

“I’m so close,” you whine, feeling Taehyung press himself closer to you, one of his hands coming to the back of your head and pushing you deeper into the mattress. The new angle  makes you feel him so deeply that even your stomach clenches and the dam finally breaks; you’re falling off the edge of the most shattering orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

Taehyung’s hips stutter as you clench around him, making him moan deep in his chest. When you can no longer hold up your body, he grabs your shoulder and flips you onto your back, then immediately slides his cock back inside your overly sensitive pussy.

You’re so blissfully fucked that it takes you a moment to focus your eyesight on his face. Sweaty black curls sticking to his forehead as you lift your heavy arms and dig your fingers into his hair so you can pull his mouth down onto yours.

“I almost…I almost lost control. You feel so good.” His tongue swipes into your mouth as he angles himself to hit your g-spot with every hard thrust of his hips.

“Please come, Taehyung.” Your nails dig into his back and leave scratch marks across his skin.

“Never wanted anyone as much as I want you…fuck we want you so badly.” He buries his face into your neck as he thrusts once, twice more before you feel him spill inside of you. Hips bruisingly tight against yours as his cock twitches each time more cum fills you up.

“Holy shit.” You move your hands back to his hair and gently lift up to see his face. You swear when he looks at you that all the color has drained from his eyes. They’re solid white.

You gasp and blink once, seeing Taehyung’s pretty brown eyes looking back at you in less than a second.

“Wh-what was that?” You’re still panting.

“What was what, Pigeon?” He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek before he slowly pulls out and walks to his bathroom, giving you a chance to ogle his perfect little ass and the muscles of his back.

“I just…thought I saw something,” you say when he returns to the bed with a cloth for you to clean up with. You really need to get more sleep if you’re starting to see things.

“Did I hurt you?” Taehyung’s face is suddenly a lot more serious when he reaches out to run his fingers over the apple of your cheek.

You remember the way his hands felt on your hips. How they could’ve been on the verge of piercing through your skin. At least, that’s what you thought when it was happening.

Looking down at your hips, there’s obvious red marks from fingertips, but also scratch marks that just don’t seem like they could’ve come from Taehyung’s short cut nails. What the hell?

“I um…I think I’m okay.” You pull the covers up over your hips a little, hoping he won’t see.

“You should sleep here. I can take you home in the morning, I’m just too sleepy right now.” He pouts his mouth a little and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his side.

“Okay.” You’re admittedly too spent to call an Uber or argue with him about taking you home tonight. You just need to sleep. Sleep will fix everything. Tomorrow you will wake up and not feel like you’re losing your entire mind.

“…don’t ever fucking do that again…” You hear part of a conversation in your half asleep state. “I swear if you would have hurt her…”

Who the hell is Taehyung talking to in the middle of the night?

“She’s with the spider….liability.” A deep inhuman voice fills the empty air. Your eyes shoot open wide and every nerve is suddenly completely wired.

Are they…are they talking about Jungkook?

“She’s not. She said she’s not,” Taehyung’s voice answers, stress evident in his words.

“We should eat her now…” 

“No! You’ll have to kill me if you think you’re ever touching her. And we both know you can’t do that,” Taehyung yells.

You wrap the thin sheet around your naked body and slowly move towards the railing that overlooks the open part of the warehouse downstairs. You stay back far enough so not to alert anyone of your presence.

Looking down, you see Taehyung sitting at a table with his back towards you, wearing his black jeans slung low on his hips and nothing else. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

And that’s when it seems like the shadows around him start to move and your heart threatens to burst from your chest. Because not only do they move, but they have a face. A terrifying face that is seeping from the back of Taehyung’s neck and moving around him …as it talks.

“You’re weak for her,” the monster growls deeply, its huge teeth and unnaturally long tongue becoming more apparent as it moves into the light.

“We had a deal.” Taehyung seethes. “I’m literally the only person you haven’t killed when you bonded with them. You need me to get your symbiote friends home and I need you to take down that fucking lab.”

You can barely believe what you’re seeing or hearing. Is this the monster Jungkook was talking about? The one breaking into the lab across the river?

“Aren’t we friends?” The monster asks in a condescending way.

“Not if you hurt ____. She has no idea what she’s in the middle of and it should stay that way.” Taehyung holds his arms out straight and the monster starts to wrap its moving pitch black skin around him…its skin becoming his.

You’re so startled by the sight in front of you that you stumble back, knocking over an end table full of magazines and books. Fuck.

“Shit,” you hear Taehyung say before the monster has completely consumed him. What stands in his place is something you will never forget for the rest of your life.

The monster must be at least 8 feet tall, huge bulking muscles made of that inhuman black skin that constantly appears to be moving. Its  huge white eyes land right on you immediately, its  mouth and teeth pulling into a wicked smile as it jumps into the air and clears the railing in a single leap. You scream as the ground crunches beneath its feet when it lands in front of you.

The monster looms over you and all the breath in your lungs disappears.

“What…what are you?” you croak, fear freezing you in place.

“We…are Venom.”

taglist: @hanversace @chaelvrx @moonchild1 @rkivewritersblog @ungodlyjoon @ricecakeslove @jeonsweetpea @screamertannie @tearyjjeon @kookrecs @bintificreads @minisugakoobies

series masterlist | main masterlist | Part Two

[purplephloxpress]

Another year, another Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day!!!! If you are a writer of fanfic, please know just how appreciated you are!! Fandom would be such a different space without your creativity and labors of love. 💜

Holidays are all about making traditions, and the bookbinding friends with @renegadeguild once again came together to bind copies of fics for their authors as a show of our appreciation. This year I had the absolute joy of binding Emergency Help Wanted by the wonderful @piyo-13 and even got to collaborate with her on some of the design elements! It's a Modern AU Jiang Cheng/Lan Xichen fic that starts with a "help wanted" ad.

EMERGENCY HELP WANTED

I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early from work to pick him up from daycare, take him to doctor's appointments, and occasionally miss a day when he's sick. Long story short, I'm in too deep. I didn't think it through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy ages four to six, longish dark hair, likes soccer. Must also be artistic as the macaroni noodle paintings I made seem a little advanced for his age. Also, I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of husband when dropping him off. He's a prosecuting attorney who often brings his work home. Message me for further details. Serious inquiries only.

Ok. So. I may have gone a little feral with this one. Online "help wanted" ad spiraled into loading wheel scene dividers, spiraled into fake Google search result headers, spiraled into FULLY committing to those authentic looking text messages. In full color. (There are so many. I typeset in MS Word. It was SO worth it, but god what a struggle at some points.) And don't forget the "recent searches" title page! Or the computer cutout on the cover! (It's bluescreening, just like Lan Xichen through this entire fic!) Also that cover/title page image that I just kept adding details to. (It's supposed to be Lan Xichen's desk, so it simply didn't feel right until it had sticky notes on the computer, #1 dad on the mug, scissors and measuring tape, scribbles on the sticky notes) Did I have a ton of fun designing this one? Perhaps. Couldn't say. Maybe just a tad. (This is a lie I had an ABSOLUTE BLAST!)

Historically, I've waited until I finish at least the typeset before reaching out to the author, but not so with this one! I got the idea for the fake google search results from Piyo's authors notes, teasing the contents of the next chapter. But! Those didn't start until about chapter 4! So I reached out and asked if we could collaborate and I'm forever glad I did! Not only does this have teasers for each chapter, I also got to bounce design ideas off of her, including what shade of blue and purple for the text messages. Because my friends, that is a serious matter and changed SEVERAL times throughout the process.

Also shoutout to all my Renegade friends who gave input and encouragement over the past year while I worked on this (what endpages to use? how to make this shade of green perfectly Nie Huaisang? how do we feel about this text message design? or how about this one?) - I love you all dearly and appreciate you so much for putting up with my nonsense at all times.

Binding details below the cut!

Fandom: The Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi

Pairing: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin / Lan Huan | Lan Xichen

Bookcloth: Aqua/Purple Dubletta from Colophon Book Arts

Endpapers: Craft Consortium Ink Drops - Ocean pack

Textblock paper: short grain cream from Church Paper

Titling: We R Memory Keepers foil quill

Endbands: leather cording core, DMC embroidery floss for the bands

Body Font: EB Garamond

Title Font: Berlin Sans FB

Text Messages: Roboto

Additional fonts: Times New Roman, Kunstler Script, Magis Authentic

Title page image from Rawpixel and designed in Canva

Various computer graphics from The Noun Project

Tumblr insists on eating and doubling text in this section at its own whim, so if there's something missing that you're curious about, feel free to DM me an ask!

[venus-haze]

Reach Out, Touch Faith (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Day 22 - Thigh Riding. Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. No spoilers for the show in this fic. I finally caught up on Grotesquerie and had to write something for Father Charlie! Shoutout to @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok for even putting this show on my radar. Title comes from Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving a member of the clergy, thigh riding, some degradation.

Only Father Charlie could walk the line between a wet dream and a saint. You found this out rather quickly after becoming a parishioner. It’d been years since you went to church, but moving to the small town offered little in the way of a social life outside of work, so you swallowed your pride and began showing up to mass, and then getting involved in everything from the soup kitchen to movie nights. He didn’t judge you when you admitted you were there to make friends. In fact, he encouraged it.

“People feel increasingly isolated these days,” he had told you. “The church used to be a place for people to meet and make connections, I’m glad it’s serving you that way. Gives me hope for the future of our parish.”

After just a few weeks, people actually got to know you, to the point where you were invited to get coffee with some or join others for dinner. But in your heart, you knew you were mostly showing up for Father Charlie. Especially since he followed you on Instagram, and you almost considered softblocking him so he couldn’t see what you were up to. Morbid curiosity got the better of you, and you followed him back, dragged to the depths your desire by the videos of him exercising on his feed—his toned muscles flexing, skin glimmering with sweat. Your hand flew to your mouth when he squirted water from a bottle on himself. What the fuck kind of priest even did that?

You could hardly look him in the eye the next time you saw him. When he cornered you after a book club meeting, it was almost like he knew.

“You know, for everything you’re involved in, all of the meetings and events you show up to, I’ve never had you for confession,” he said.

It was the way he said it—had you—that made you take pause. As if his being a priest obscured something close to lust, almost implied consummation.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to know who’s confessing,” you said.

“I’d know your voice.”

“I guess I’m just scared, Father.”

“Of what? God’s judgment?” he asked. “He’s merciful if you bring your sins to Him.”

“More along the lines of what you’ll think of me.”

He smiled. “You haven’t killed anyone, have you?”

“God, no!”

“Well, there’s blasphemy,” he joked. “Come by tomorrow at seven. No one else will be here. No pressure.”

Sitting in the confessional almost made you feel claustrophobic. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you folded them across your lap, waiting for Father Charlie to speak from the other side of the screen.

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

You paused, trying to remember an exact date, but nothing came to mind. “A few years, probably.”

“That’s alright. What sins do you bring forward today?”

“I don’t know,” you lied.

“You don’t know?” he repeated incredulously.

“No. I can’t think of anything.”

He scoffed. You could practically see the sneer on his face through the screen. “I can list off some. Pride, selfishness, leading others into temptation—do you have any idea what you’re capable of doing? The depths you can cause a man to sink to? The sins of the flesh proliferate every aspect of our modern lives and you—you just—”

“Father?”

After a few moments of tense silence, he spoke your name softly. “I want you to leave the confessional. If there’s no one around, come over to my side.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Against your better judgment, you left the confessional and rounded it to the other side. When you opened the door, he looked at you expectantly, curling his pointer and index fingers to beckon you inside.

You hesitated. Almost took a step back, except he reached for you, pulling you in with him. If you thought it was claustrophobic before, your body, cramped in so closely with his, would have been enough to make you anxious on its own, but the proximity, his body heat, his dark brown eyes blazing with a vengeful lust, drew a whine from you when you were maneuvered onto his lap, one of his thick thighs between your legs. You suddenly wished you hadn’t worn a skirt—knee-length, modest enough when you picked it out, but woefully inadequate for the way his hand slipped up it, his fingers brushing your pussy through your panties.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, dripping with arousal in the house of the Lord.”

Rage filled your chest at his taunt. “You have some fucking nerve to accuse me,” you hissed. “Your socials are shameless. I almost thought I was on OnlyFans, the way you flaunt yourself.”

“But you liked what you saw, didn’t you?” he pressed. “Why else would you have come to confession if not for your guilty conscience?” He flexed his muscular thigh beneath you, a pathetic sounding whimper echoing from your lips in the confessional. “Unless you’re only chasing lust, that fleeting, deadly sin.”

“For the love of God, put up or shut up,” you snapped.

He was at a loss for words, then, and letting your pride get the better of you, you kissed him—claiming him was more like it, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip until he shivered beneath you. 

Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you rocked your hips back and forth against his thigh, the friction from the fabric teasing your clit so perfectly, you couldn’t help the cry that tore from your throat until he silenced you with his mouth on yours. Sweat rolled down your back at your exertion, making your blouse stick to your skin, the confessional almost suffocatingly hot.

“Is this what you had in mind, Father?” you mocked, your voice husky and almost cruel, though you knew if anyone walked in, they’d be able to hear. Wouldn’t take very long for a keen listener to figure out what was going on. “Is this my penance?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, his strong hands kneading your ass.

You chased your orgasm, finally finding it when he moaned your name in your ear like a prayer. Rode out your ecstasy on his thigh, a sick thrill rushing through you at the thought of the wet spot you’d leave on his pants, the physical evidence of your debauchery, if the only witness to it was the ever-silent, omnipresent, judging eyes of God.

“Is that all, Father?” you asked breathlessly, glancing down at the prominent tent in his pants.

With a shaky sigh, he leaned his head back, palming his crotch. “Go—go say ten Hail Marys.” 

When you knelt down at the pew just outside of the confessional, you began the first of your penitent prayers with the sound of his groans and soft curses echoing in your ears.

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Make it up to you

Professor!Touya x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You're assigned to be the teaching assistant for the new, attractive instructor at your university. His name? Professor Touya. Ever the good student, you hope to maintain a professional relationship with him and stay in good standing, but when he publicly embarrasses you in front of the entire class, all that is thrown out the window. 

Warnings/tags: Colleg AU, quirkless AU, older Touya (coded to be in his 30s), female reader, student/teacher's assistant reader, professor/student relationship, dumbification, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (female), public sex, usage of sir, public embarrassment, lots of dirty talking, messy sex 

Author's note: Huge shoutout to @dabisqueen and @history-be-written for being my beta readers and giving me good suggestions. I appreciate you guys sm!!! This fic truly wouldn't have turned out the way it did without you two. 

Word Count: 7.9K

“So,” Your friend turns to you, asking you in piqued interest, “Who’d the department put you with? You know who you’ll be an assistant for yet?”

“Yeah, I was told I’ve been placed with ‘Professor Touya Todoroki’,” you answer. The name is completely unfamiliar to you, though, you’re hoping she has at least heard of him before.

It’s your turn to ask her a question, and you choose to say, “Have you ever had him?”

Much to your dismay, she shakes her head no.

“Nope, never had him,” she replies. You frown slightly at her answer. Turning to  your friend’s roommate, you hope  to find that she has had some sort of interaction with him. 

“What about you? Have you had him before?” You question her. Just like your friend, she shakes her head, much to your disappointment. 

“I haven’t,” shesays. “I don’t even think anyone else has talked about him before either. I’ve never heard his name in my life.”

Damn. 

You were wanting to hear your peers' experience with your soon to be ‘boss’ of sorts, so that you could prepare yourself, but it seems you’re shit out of luck. You’ll just have to go in blind.  

“You know, they hired a new professor this semester. It might just be him,” your friend points out. She smiles at you mischievously before adding, “And rumor has it, he’s hot as fuck.” 

“Ooooh, how lucky. I’m jealous,” your friend’s roommate giggles. You scoff at the reaction. 

“No reason to be. He’s my professor, ‘s not like I can, you know, do anything with him,” you counter. 

You check your phone, seeing that the time to meet the new professor has come. “I gotta head over to his office before his lecture starts. I’ll catch you around.”

“See you later then. Have fun~” your friend farewells in a singsong voice. 

You chuckle at her antics and make your way over to the department building and to his office. When you get there, you stop to peer through the window on his office door, trying to see if he’s inside. Luckily, he’s there, looking down at a paper in his hand, unaware of your presence. 

You notice right away he doesn’t look like the rest of the university staff. He looks quite a bit younger than the rest of the aging faculty. Though, he was still a couple years your senior, in his early thirties at least. What makes him really stand out to you, apart from his piercing cyan eyes and dark, shaggy hair, is the way he dressed. He’s wearing tight black jeans, a form-fitting white button up, an expensive wristwatch, and black Converse. You can’t help but admire his intense, blue eyes as he studies the sheet of paper in his hand, too focused to notice your staring. Your eyes travel the expanse of his face, taking in his features. 

You remember your friend’s words, her little comment echoing in your brain. ‘Rumor has it, he’s hot as fuck,’ you’re reminded. For once, it seems her gossip is true. Even you can’t deny it; Professor Todoroki is very attractive. 

But you won’t act on your feelings, you can’t. You’re supposed to be his assistant after all! And so, with that thought in your mind, you snap yourself out of your daze. You take a deep breath, steeling your nerves and suppressing your desires, before knocking on the door.

He looks up from his papers and glances at you through the window in the door, before beckoning you inside his office. You swing open the door and take a few tentative steps into the room. He quickly looks you up and down, just for a split second, only for his eyes to settle back on your face and look at you expectantly. You hate how his overt glance at your body flusters you and makes you feel hot all over. 

“Excuse me, are you Professor Todoroki?” You ask with a soft voice. 

“Yep, that’d be me. Although, you can just call me Professor Touya. I don’t use my father’s last name,” he explains. His deep, smoky voice worsens your nervousness. The way his voice drawls has butterflies swarming in your stomach. He tosses the papers he was reading off to the side and approaches you, smirking down at you. “But what can I do for you, sweetheart?”

The pet name is something you’re surprised to hear coming from your professor. It borders dangerously on unprofessional, and yet, you find yourself letting it slide. Hearing him say something like that to you sends a wave of heat between your legs. 

Keeping your cool around him is not going to be easy, especially if he keeps calling you that. 

You start by introducing yourself and telling him your name before continuing. “I’m sure the department informed you already, but I’ll be your TA for this next semester,” you start. “I look forward to working with you.”

He hums in response. 

“So you’re my little assistant? Gonna help me with all the long hours grading, hm?” He asks. 

“Yes sir,” you answer. There’s a darker expression that flashes on his face, but it passes just as quickly as it appeared. He narrows his eyes slightly and lazily leans against his desk, supporting his weight using his forearms. Underneath the fabric of his button-up, you can see the muscles of his arms flexing. 

Oh god. 

He’s fucking ripped too. 

“You know, the other faculty told me about you,” he mentions. You can’t help but quirk up at the comment, feeling curious. What did the other teachers say about you? 

“Nothing bad, I hope,” you joke. 

“They all said you were a good student. Never a rule breaker, always professional. Top of your class too, I heard,” he starts. It fills you with a sense of pride and accomplishment, to hear your hard work has gotten you some recognition. You’re practically preening at the praise. And yet, it feels like there’s something else he wants to add. He straightens up and leans off of his desk. The space between you closes as he stands dangerously close to you. 

“But there’s one thing I think they got wrong,” he counters.

You tense up as your mind reels. His voice lowers and he adds, “I’m willing to bet you’re not as good as they say you are.” 

Your brow twitches in annoyance at his bold claim. Just who does he think he is? 

You clench your jaw, biting down the urge to snap back. He’s your superior. You can’t just yell at him and let him have it, not this early in the semester at least. Thus, you settle for tense questioning. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” he insinuates and takes a step back. The distance between the two of you gives you space to breathe, space to fume. “We’ll meet an hour before class to go over the lesson plan. I give a lot of tests over the semester, so come by every afternoon to help with grading.” 

Oh great. 

You’ll be spending most of your week nights with this hot asshole. 

“Understood?” He asks. His cobalt eyes bore into yours as he looks at you expectantly, waiting for your response. 

“Yes sir,” you answer flatly. Despite your lack of enthusiasm, he seems to grin at your agreement. 

“Hm, sir. That’s not something I’m used to hearing from my students,” he teases. There’s a darker look in his eyes that disappears as quickly as you notice it. “Your underclassmen tend to be more… casual around me.”

“And does that bother you?” You ask, suddenly feeling a bit awkward at your apparent odd choice of words. 

“No,” he says, quickly denying it. His voice seems to drop an octave, and he adds, “I prefer it, actually.”

There seems to be something off about the situation, something greater lying behind the surface of his words, but you can’t seem to figure out what greater meaning lies underneath something as simple as an honorific to him. 

The tension is broken after he clears his throat and leans off of the desk upon looking at the clock. “But enough of that,” he starts. “Our first lecture is scheduled to start soon. Let’s start talking about the lesson plan.” 

If there’s one thing you've learned about Professor Touya over the course of the next few weeks, it’s that he’s both fun to talk to yet incredibly strict. He has a penchant for teasing you and the two of you often banter with one another, but despite the growing bond forming between the two of you, he still insists on you calling him sir. 

You suppose he still wants to maintain at least a bit of an aura of professionalism between the two of you. And so, despite how awkward it feels, you continue to address him as such, unaware of the little quirk in his smirk that always follows. 

In speaking with him and sitting in during his lectures, you find yourself being intrinsically drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You reason it’s because you admire his remarkable intelligence, amongst other enigmatic qualities.

He’s driven. Witty. Mysterious. Captivating, even.

With how much he has going for him, it’s no mystery why the university hired him; he’s easily one of the brightest minds in his field, and an engaging professor as well. You could learn from him. 

Yeah. 

That’s all it is. 

You just want to learn from him, is all. 

That’s why you’re gravitating to him.

You don't want to think about him outside of class.

You don’t want to think about the way his attractive smirk gives you butterflies.

You don’t want to think about kissing those soft lips of his as you stare at him speaking.

And you definitely don’t want to think about his fingers descending down your body and touching your aching core. 

You try to avoid thinking about those less than pure daydreams you have about him, both out of self respect for yourself, considering the insulting implication he threw at you during your first meeting, and out of aversion to entertaining lewd ideas about your professor. However, despite this conscious decision, your subconscious has other plans. You find yourself often stealing glances his way, admiring his attractive features, much to your own dismay.

Today is another instance of your subconscious betraying you, and your eyes are now fixated on him, taking in the frustrated scrunch in his brow and tensed shoulders. He abruptly stops setting up the presentation on the computer and walks over towards the windows in the classroom. In an attempt to get respite from the rising heat in the room, he cracks open all the windows. 

“You’d think with the high tuition they’d have enough money to fix this damn AC already,” Professor Touya scoffs. The building’s lack of cool air is a well-known problem, which is why you wore such a thin, short dress today in the first place. It was too damn hot to show up to class wearing much else.

He sighs in annoyance as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls up the sleeves, revealing something that has your breath hitch in your throat.  They start from his wrists and travel up his arms. Shades of purple and blue accent his black ink work, the hues of blue matching his mysterious, cerulean-colored eyes.  From what you’re able to discern, his tattoos go even farther than just his forearms. You wonder just how many he has, and where. The curiosity makes your mind entertain some less than pure ideas, picturing his bare skin and imagining just what kind of ink work he hides underneath his clothes. You try to reign in these fantasies of yours, but you’re too busy drooling over him.

Too busy to even notice that he’s caught you staring. 

He smirks to himself upon seeing you ogling him. His hunch was right, there was something more between the two of you; an unspoken, mutual sexual tension. Though, you seem to be fighting your apparent attraction to him, he could see it in the way you quickly caught yourself and looked away, avoiding looking at him much more at all. He’s hoping he can change that. Maybe he can make you see there’s no shame in it. He’d be more than happy to indulge your naughty fantasies. 

He lazily glances at the clock, seeing how the scheduled lecture will start shortly. It’s then that he remembers something. He leans closer to you and taps the desk, startling you and flustering you with his sudden closeness, and requests, “Hey, I had some handouts for today’s class printed out upstairs. Will you go pick them up for me?”

“Yes sir, I can do that,” you agree. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. And with that, you leave the class and head to the printing room. Shortly after you leave, a couple students trickle into the room, all belonging to the same close-knit clique of fraternity members. They each take their usual seats and continue to talk amongst themselves freely. Their conversation is painfully loud. He can hear them all the way from the front of the classroom, even though they sit far in the back. 

“Aw man, that hot TA isn’t here today,” one of the frat boys bemoans. “She’s usually around before class.”

“Fucking bummer,” another complains. “Was hoping to get her number.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that,” the other agrees. “She’s a total fucking nerd but I bet she’d be a decent fuck.” They all loudly laugh at that comment and continue making their comments about you. 

He knows their type, and just how it would end for you should you associate with them. Besides the fact that they’re all idiots and that alone would be enough to disappoint you, you would be wasted on them. Those frat boys wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you. They wouldn’t know how to make you cum. They wouldn’t make you completely dumb with pleasure. There’s just something special about getting a normally smart girl to completely fall apart for him, to give a girl so much pleasure that everything else melts away. And truthfully, he wants to take you there. He wants to see just what it would take to fuck you stupid. He has to know, just how much pleasure does it take to turn your brain to mush.

His desire for you is why these frat boys irk him so much. They casually talk about seducing you into their bed like you’re an easy lay. But the fun that comes with you is the cat and mouse game, the deliberation in your brain between suppressing your attraction towards him and wanting to cave into your own desires. Your little errand couldn’t have come at a better time. He’s glad you’re not here to give them an opportunity to make a move on you, but he can’t keep sending you away before class starts to spare you the misfortune of these idiots making a pass at you. 

No.

He needs to send a little message to the competition. 

And lucky for him, he’s got just the idea. 

More students start filing in as he makes his plans. He has everything thought out, and all that is left is the final piece: you. But shortly before Professor Touya starts the lecture, you make it inside the classroom, papers in hand. You attempt to start passing out the handouts, when he stops you in your tracks. He takes the stack of sheets from your hands and haphazardly tosses them aside.

“I thought they needed that for today?” You ask, thrown off by the apparent change in plans. 

“Nah, we’ll just have them copy the diagram themselves for today. I saw some research that suggested it helps more with memorization. You’ve seen their test grades, the students need all the help they can get,” he lies. You can’t help but genuinely chuckle at his light jab at his own students. As much as you think it’s a waste to discard the handouts– if Professor Touya believes it’ll help the students, you won’t argue with him. 

“Alright, whatever you say, sir,” you laugh. The lecture starts as it normally does and follows the previously discussed lesson plan, until it comes time to show the students the diagram. He turns to you mid-lecture, about to ask you for some sort of assistance. 

“You’ve got better art skills than me. Draw this diagram. Top of page ninety,” Professor Todoroki instructs. He slides over his copy of the textbook, pages turned to a rather complicated figure. It’s far too much information to draw from memory. 

“Sure thing,” you answer. You pick up a marker and uncap it, before holding the textbook in the crook of your arm. You’re about to start copying the figure near the bottom of the board when he interrupts you. 

“Ah, I’m going to write more notes there in a minute. Why don’t you put it over here instead?” He points far up the whiteboard to some blank space tucked in the upper corner. Your stomach sinks at seeing where he wants you to place the diagram. You’re regretting wearing such a short dress today. But still, short dress or not, you have to do this. Maybe… Maybe you can manage it, without flashing the entire class? 

Without much of a choice, you study the diagram, balancing the heavy textbook in one hand while you reach up the whiteboard with a dry-erase marker in hand. You start to stand up on the tips of your toes and you try to aim for a slightly closer area of blank space, all the while your mind is preoccupied with the hem of your skirt. You’re dangerously close to accidentally erasing all of his previous notes, something you’re not too keen on doing given his strictness. 

“Having trouble?” Professor Touya teases, with an amused grin on his face. 

“No, ‘m fine,” you lie. Not that you would admit it to him, but it’s more than just a bit awkward to both hold onto the book and stand up high to draw the figure. 

“Here, let me,” he insists. He comes up behind you, his crotch just barely brushing against your ass. Your breath gets caught in your throat at your body involuntarily stiffens. You internally cringe at how something so simple as a passing touch makes your body feel hot. 

He plucks the textbook from your hands, allowing you a bit more freedom of motion to stand up higher and draw with precision. He sidles up next to you and holds the book open for you. Still, even with his help, it’s still hard to draw exactly where he wants you to. Your dress already feels rather high on your legs as is, you’re sure disaster would happen should you stand up higher. 

“Come on, you’re almost there, just stand up a little more,” he encourages and goads. You almost jolt when you feel a warm hand touch your waist, egging you on to push the envelope just a little further. Not wanting to disobey him, you do as he says, though the regret is instant. The skirt of your dress hikes over your hips and reveals the curve of your ass. A sharp, hushed silence sweeps over the room. Your ears feel like they’re burning and tears are welling up in your eyes at the sheer humiliation you feel in this moment. You draw the figure anyways, albeit carelessly and sloppily. 

You just want this to be over. 

But since your back is turned to the class, you’re completely unaware of the silent exchange happening between Professor Touya and the frat boys in the back row. While you are doing as he asked, ever his obedient assistant, he’s busy glowering at his competition. 

The message is clear. 

You are off limits. 

When the diagram is finally drawn, you straighten back out and place your feet flat on the ground. You should be a bit relieved when your dress finally covers your body once more, but you’re unable to feel that respite. The damage is done, and you’re now left to simmer in your own embarrassment. 

“Is that all you needed from me, sir?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper and thick with emotion. There’s a lump in your throat forming as you fight back the urge to cry. 

“Yeah, that’s all, sweetheart,” he answers, in a manner that’s almost a subtle attempt at soothing you. You let out a shaky, uneven breath. 

“Okay,” you say through a tense sigh. Your voice cracks when you speak once more, “I-I’ll be in your office to… get started on grading.”

You dismiss yourself and nearly rush out of the classroom, all too eager to distance yourself from the source of your shame. Once you’re in the safety of the hallways, you freely let the tears flow down your face. You’re at least thankful the halls are somewhat sparse, meaning that few are able to see you fall apart like this. The last thing you can handle emotionally is someone asking you what happened or if you were okay. Talking about it would just make the humiliation much more real.  

When you finally reach Professor Touya’s office, you close the blinds on his door behind you and prop yourself up against the desk with your hands. You try to recollect yourself, to no avail. Your shame just eats away at you. But at least with his office so far out of the way of all other classes and the blinds drawn down, no one can see you fall apart like this. You can stew in your emotions somewhat privately, at least until Professor Touya gets back. 

Professor Touya.

You want to sneer at the thought of him. The more you think about what happened during the lecture, the more you can’t help but assume he wanted to embarrass you on purpose, like the asshole he is. He enjoys toying with you too much, but this time, he really went too far. You think you’ve been much too cordial with him. When he gets back, you swear you’ll give him a piece of your mind. Fuck professionalism, that was thrown out the window when he forced your hand and caught a peek up your dress. 

Speak of the devil, or rather, think of the devil, and he appears. More time than you thought must have passed while you were smoldering in your feelings, as Professor Touya leisurely strolls into his office, now apparently finished with the lecture. You wipe your tears on the back of your hand, trying to make yourself look a little less weak in front of him and steeling your nerves to tell him off. 

“So what the hell was that about, huh? Why do you get off on being an absolute dick to me? I know you did that shit on purpose,” you accuse. He makes his way over to you and stands in front of you, partially caging you against the desk. The close proximity to him makes you feel hot with what you assume is indignation.

Yeah, that’s what this feeling is.

You despise him.

He doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to let you vent out your frustrations, taking the spite you hurl at him. You’re very much angry at him, filled with so much frustration that your voice is unsteady as you yell, “You’re such a fucking ass. And for what! I did nothing to you, I’ve been nothing but helpful and polite. What could possibly make you want to humiliate me like that? What have I done to make you hate me like this?”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t hate you,” he soothes. His voice sounds much more husky when he adds, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Well I still think you’re an asshole for that little stunt you pulled, even if it wasn’t because you hated me,” you counter, speaking in between breaks in your voice. There’s still tears breaking past your lash line as a consequence of feeling so heated. Your emotions are only further worsened by the confusion you feel. If it wasn’t a malicious attempt to knock you down, why would he do such a thing to you? 

“I know, I know,” he agrees. “How about I make it up to you then?”

“How could you possibly make it up to me?” You question as your voice cracks under the weight of your emotions. You move to wipe your face when he beats you to the punch, brushing away the tears falling down your cheek with his thumb. His hand stays on your face and he tilts your chin to him, angling your face closer to his.  

“Well, I could start by making you feel good, give you something else to think about,” he insinuates. Your breath gets caught in your throat at his implication. “I know you feel it too, this tension between us. I’d love to indulge your fantasies about me, if you’d let me.”

You part your lips, searching for the right words and the strength to reject him, but with his face hovering tantalizingly close to yours, lips mere inches away, you realize you don’t have it in you. 

Fuck. 

You want him so bad. 

“P-please,” you whisper. He has a shit eating grin on his face at your meek and embarrassed begging. 

“What was that? You’ll need to speak up, sweetheart, I can’t hear you,” he teases. You swallow the lump in your throat, and lock eyes with him. 

“Please, make me feel good,” you say again, this time with a little more conviction. 

“Atta girl,” he praises. And with your agreeance, he closes the distance between the two of you and slots his mouth against yours. A gasp escapes you at the feeling of his lips working against your own. Your yearning and daydreaming didn’t prepare you for the intensity of this, for the pure wanting behind every movement of his lips. 

The kiss becomes more and more heated as he presses his body further against yours, leaving little space between the two of you. His tongue dips out from his mouth and runs along the seam of your lips and you part slightly, allowing him the space to slip the wet muscle inside. You find yourself shuddering at the contact and gripping onto the fabric of his button up as a way to tether yourself in this moment. It’s almost a bit embarrassing just how much you’re melting into his touch from something as simple as kissing. Your body is eating it up regardless, sending waves of warmth throughout your entire being and pooling between your legs. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, after parting from the kiss, his breath fanning over your lips. Although you’ve been dreaming about this moment, and you desperately want to feel his touch all over you, your mind can’t help but chime in; you shouldn’t. 

You really shouldn’t. 

But with his hardening cock pressing up against your stomach and professionalism now abandoned, you throw caution to the wind and give in. You give him a nod and allow his hands to roam over your body. It’s almost dizzying to feel his touch, especially when his hands palm your chest and grope your ass, squeezing the plush flesh in his hands. He dives back in to press his lips up against yours in an intense, crushing kiss once more. You whimper against him, flustered at the feeling of his hot touch over your clothes. You’re becoming drunk on lust just from touches alone. 

Your arousal is heightened as the hands at your ass trail to the front, reaching your hips, before snaking up your dress. His fingers press against your clothed mound. He smirks into the kiss upon feeling the wetness already clinging against the fabric. 

You whine at the loss of friction when his fingers pull back, but the absence of his touch is short-lived. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties and tugs the clothing down your thighs. You part your legs to allow him to completely rid you of them, leaving your cunt now bare before him. You’re glad the blinds on his door are drawn, preventing anyone else from seeing the debauched sight of your panties on the floor in front of your professor. 

The pads of his fingers teasingly trace up your inner thighs, slowly inching bit by bit up your legs and making his way to your aching core. You let out an involuntary gasp when he finally grazes your pussy, his touch now no longer separated by a layer of clothing. 

His fingers run up and down your folds, spreading your juices over yourself and teasingly avoiding sinking into your eager hole. You squirm and jolt every time the tips of his fingers brush against your clit. His warm touch on your engorged bundle of nerves sends jolts of pleasure up your spine. The embarrassment and shame melts away into pure, unadulterated desire with every drag of his fingers over your slit, leaving you wetter and wetter. Your slick coats his fingers as he grazes over your hole. He looks down to see his skin glistening with your wetness, causing him to suck in a breath at the sight. 

Realizing he’s teasing himself by waiting any longer, he decides to give you what you’ve been wanting. Two fingers finally dip inside of your heat, slowly at first. You let out a breathy moan as his digits sink into you. When they bottom out inside of you, you want to squirm at how full you feel with just his fingers alone. They’re the perfect combination of long and thick, stretching out your cunt with ease. 

A sharp inhale escapes you when he slowly pulls out, almost entirely, before pumping back inside of you. He sets an agonizingly slow pace at first as he watches your every reaction, studying what movements and angles have you panting for him. Ever observant, he effortlessly finds your most sensitive spots and hones in on them before quickening his pace. 

Your legs tremble and shake with every harsh thrust of his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to cumming with little effort on his part. He knows just how to curl them up, just how to press the ball of his hand against your clit, just how to get you panting for him. The relentless pumping of his fingers in and out of your hole sends floods of wetness to your core, coating his fingers with your slick. Moans loudly tumble out of your mouth when he slips another into your heat. Though as much as he’s enjoying hearing your slutty moans, he seems distracted. 

He puts his palm over your mouth and leans into your ear. “Shhh, someone’s coming,” he hushes. “Might wanna quiet down unless you want your classmates to barge in and see your pussy full with my fingers.”

You don’t have to see him to know he’s smirking at the comment, feeding off of your apparent embarrassment. The sounds of footsteps and talking nears closer and closer to the door. Knowing your classmates are nearing the door while your legs are obscenely spread for your professor and stuffed full of his thick fingers makes you feel hot with humiliation and overwhelmed with panic, but the pleasure Touya gives you is too much to give up. And so, you bite back your moans in an attempt to stay completely silent. Your body tenses with the risk of getting caught, causing you to clench down even tighter around his fingers. But even though you’re desperately fighting back the urge to whine and wail for him, with very obvious strain, the bastard keeps pumping in and out of you. You just hope the sound of wet squelching isn’t audible through the door.

“I can’t see in, the blinds are closed. Is he not here today?” A student asks, her question partially muffled through Touya’s office door. 

“No, he’s here. My roommate just left his class a while ago,” another student replies. The door knob jiggles as she tries to open the door. You hold your breath, expecting it to swing open and to be caught in the act. 

Only, it never happens. 

The knob refuses to yield to the student’s attempts. She mutters out of frustration, “Damn, must be in a meeting right now. His office is locked.” 

“Huh, I guess we’ll come back tomorrow,” the other classmate shrugs.

You sigh in relief, letting some of the tension dissipate. So long as you’re quiet, you can make it through this without anyone knowing what went on in his office. Still, even that is proving to be a challenge with the way his fingers continue to slam in and out of your pussy. Your knuckles turn white as you grip onto the desk like it’s your lifeline, pouring all your urge to moan into tensing your hands. His half-lidded, cobalt eyes stay trained on your face, seemingly searching for something, while a lazy and smug expression plasters his own face. 

A change in the angle of his fingers sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body and a stifled squeal wrangles past your lips. He snickers at your failed attempts at staying quiet. You instantly feel yourself sweating, either from the anxiety or from quickly racing towards your peak, you’re unable to discern. Hopefully the students didn’t pick up on it.

Much to your horror, one of the students speaks, “Wait, did you hear that?”

“No? What’d you hear?” The other asks in confusion. You cringe, worrying that their curiosity will lead to your social downfall. If they know someone is in there, they’ll demand you answer them. Should that happen, you’re sure Professor Touya will make you answer the door. Not only that, but with the way he’s eating up your embarrassment, you worry he’d make you answer their questions, all the while he still fingers you out of view.

“It was like… a squeak or something,” she explains. 

“Might have been a mouse, this building is super old ya’ know,” the other offers. 

The suspicious student laughs and says in disgust, “Ew, let’s just get the hell out of here. Lab starts in 5 minutes anyways.”

You can’t seem to hear the sound of their footsteps leaving over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the wet noises of your cunt gushing around his fingers. Evidently, Touya hears. “They’re gone, sweetheart,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. The feeling of his breath against your ear has you shuddering in response. His hand retracts from your face, no longer muffling your sounds. “Since we’re alone again, why don’t you let me hear those loud, slutty sounds of yours, yeah?” 

He starts to mouth your neck, intermixing his kisses with rougher bites against the delicate skin of your throat, leaving behind blooms of teeth marks and hickeys in his wake. It’s almost as if he wants everyone on campus to talk, like he wants your classmates to know you slept with him; the marks all over your neck damning evidence of your hookup. The sensation of his lips all over you  and the curving of his fingers against that bundle of nerves inside you has you keening for him, whines now freely escaping your mouth. 

“A-ah, feels so good,” you moan with a drawn out voice. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you in earnest, spurred on by your sweet sounds echoing in his office. You let out a choked noise upon feeling him speed up, and your walls clench down on his fingers, sucking them further into your heat. He can tell you’re quickly nearing your peak with the way your pussy flutters around him, contracting wildly.  

He pulls away from your neck and mutters against your skin, his breath fanning over the sensitive flesh, “Yeah, my fingers fucking your cunt feel that good? Gonna come on fingers then?”

The sound of his deep voice spewing such filthy words pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you like a harsh wave, stealing your breath away at the impact. You loudly moan as your cunt contracts around his fingers, all the while he continues to pump in and out of you, working you through your release. True to his orders, you gush around him, and your slick freely leaks from your sensitive hole. He finally relents and pulls out of you when you squirm from the overstimulation, attempting to wriggle away from the excessive pleasure. A pleased smirk paints his face upon seeing his fingers glisten with your wetness in the light. The sight gives him an idea, one that goes straight to his cock just at the thought.

“Open up,” he commands. The fingers wet with your juices hover over your lips, waiting for you to follow his demands. You shyly part your lips, allowing his fingers to slip into you. The tang of your own slick touches your tongue and you hold eye contact with him as your mouth closes around his fingers. 

The feeling of your tongue swirling around his digits and the sight of your lips closing around him has his mind racing. He can’t help but think of how your mouth would feel on his cock and how filthy you would look on your knees for him, pretty face nestled against his pelvis and teary doe eyes looking up at him. But he’ll save that for another time.

He needs more than just your mouth right now. 

Once his fingers are sufficiently cleaned off by your tongue, he pulls them out. He surges forward and kisses you, sliding his tongue past your lips. The taste of you still lingers in your mouth. He lewdly moans into the kiss, feeling that much hornier upon sampling your taste. 

“Shit,” he curses against your lips after pulling back. “You taste so good.” He dives back in, passionately kissing you once more and tangling his tongue with yours. “Fuck, sweetheart. I’d bend you over this desk and devour this cunt, but I’m just dying to be inside you.”

“I need it, I want it too. Please, take me,” you beg. Never once did you anticipate you’d be begging for your professor to fuck you in earnest. Never once did you think you’d see the smirk on his face at your lewd pleading. And you certainly didn’t believe you’d ever feel his hands slide under your dress and lift it over you, unclasping your bra along with it, leaving you bare before him. 

He pulls back from you and starts to unbuckle his belt. The sound of the metal clinking in the room makes your ears burn at the lewdness and your pussy clench in anticipation. He frees himself from the confines of his dark jeans, leaving you salivating at the sight of him. 

You want to drool upon seeing how he’s quite thick and long, with prominent veins running along his shaft. You’re then pushed down flush against the top of his desk, splayed over a mess of papers, and he hooks one of your legs over his shoulders. Your breath hitches when he positions his cock in between your folds with his other hand and runs the head up and down your slit, collecting the slick dripping from you and lubing his cock. 

He locks eyes with you as he finally pushes the tip in, relishing in your expression as he slowly slips in, inch by inch. Meanwhile, your full attention is focused on the way his thickness stretches you out and how the veins on his shaft drag against your walls as he sinks into you. You feel a bit breathless when he finally bottoms out and his tip kisses your cervix. 

He starts to pull his hips back until his cock nearly slips out, before pushing back into you and filling you up once more. You feel completely stuffed. True to his words, you can’t think about anything else, the embarrassment you felt frowning more and more distant in your mind and being replaced by sheer, mind numbing pleasure. 

But when he really starts rutting in and out of you? 

Your brain is filled with cotton. He can tell by the way your eyes glaze over and soft moans sound from your parted, panting lips that he’s slowly fucking you stupid. It fills him with a bit of pride to see you being reduced to a brainless, horny mess for him, and the realization goes straight to his cock. 

“T-touya,” you stammer and moan upon feeling his thrusts increase in tempo. You never called him by his first name before, but now that he’s inside of you, it was reasonable for you to believe the two of you are well past formalities. 

“It’s still sir to you,” he growls, correcting your slip up. He punctuates his statement with a hard and deep thrust, making you sharply gasp. His stern voice draws a shudder out of you and you find yourself clenching down on him. 

“‘M sorry, s-sir,” you apologize. You can feel his cock throb in your walls at the honorific. Even through your lust clouded mind, you put the pieces together. 

Oh.

That’s why he liked you calling him sir. 

“Yeah, that’s better,” he breathes. “Like the sound of that out of your mouth more than my name. Keep it up, sweetheart.”

Spurred on by your words, he hooks your other leg over his shoulder, slightly raising you off of the desk and angling his thrusts to hit even deeper inside of you. You grip onto the edges of the table as he fucks into you harder. 

He’s canting into you so deeply and sharply that the desk shakes with every harsh clap of his hips against your thighs. Papers scatter onto the floor, picture frames fall flat on the table top, pens spill out of their holders and clatter onto the ground, all the while he chases one goal: to make you a stupid, incoherent mess from his cock. 

His pace quickens and you bite down on your knuckle in an attempt to muffle your whines and moans, not wanting to fill the entire wing of the building with the sounds of sex. You feel the pleasure rapidly building as he hammers into you, pressing up against that sponges bundle of nerves along your walls. It’s easy to tell he is feeling the same, as more and more deep moans and curses tumble from his lips while he ruts into you. The sound of his voice moaning out for you combined with the angle of his cock pushes you to the verge of orgasming. 

“Hah, fuck. ‘M close. Wanna cum, sir. Please make me cum,” you desperately beg. He throbs at your dumbified state and from the word sir coming out of your mouth. 

Shit, he’s getting close too. 

“Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over these papers then?” He asks, amid pants. He becomes drunk at just the thought of you cumming and dripping all over his cock. It sends a shock wave of pleasure straight between his legs and he rambles on, “Think you can squirt f’me too?” His hips brutally snap into yours, giving you the friction you need to finally be pushed over the edge. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck!” You chant, slurring each of your words in drunken pleasure. You finally fall apart with a silent scream, and just as he was hoping, you gush around him.

“That’s it, cream all over my fucking cock, sweetheart,” he encourages. Strings of your slick cling to his cock and snap with every clap of his pelvis against your skin. He continues to thrust in and out of you, recklessly chasing his own release as you lay below him, now teetering on the edge of overstimulation. 

Your pussy clamping down on him and your walls fluttering finally pushes him over. His hips stutter and he cums with a deep groan, painting your insides white. 

He stills, momentarily keeping his cock nestled in your walls, as he lowers your legs back down against the desk. Slowly, he pulls out of you, glancing down between your legs to see your combined releases leaking out of your hole. He watches, eyes transfixed, as his seed slowly starts seeping out of you and pooling on the sheets below. 

The two of you really did a number on his desk, and his entire office, for that matter. You lay there on the table, dazed and panting, attempting to catch your breath and come back down from your high. He can’t help but smugly chuckle at your dumbified state, before he tucks himself back into his pants. 

“What a mess you’ve made,” he teases. He walks off and heads to the door, about to leave, when he turns over his shoulder and adds, “Make sure to clean up after yourself.” 

You steal a glimpse at the wrecked state of the desk, partially horrified at the wetness pooling between your legs and onto the assignments and handouts. You stare at the wet spots on the sheets of paper. 

Fuck. 

Maybe it’ll dry off. 

You hope so, at least. 

Your face burns when you walk into his classroom the next day. You make eye contact with him as you go to stand near the computer, bringing up the PowerPoint for the lecture. The situation is more than just awkward. 

How do you proceed from here? 

You’re not even sure what to say to him, if you’re supposed to greet him as usual. Your mouth feels dry from nervousness, and you take a drink from your water bottle. A student then walks up to Professor Touya, thankfully taking the heat off of you to speak to him. 

“Professor Touya?” The student starts, preparing to ask him some sort of question. 

“Yes, what is it?” He answers. 

“Did you spill something on my papers?” The student confronts. You choke on your drink as he presents his graded assignment that looks to be partially sullied by water damage, only you and Professor Touya both know- that is definitely not water. 

“Hm, good question. I’m not sure, my TA graded most of these,” he deflects, feigning ignorance. He thinks for a moment, before snapping his fingers and saying, “You know what? Why don’t you ask her? She might know what happened.” 

To your horror, the student takes his suggestion, turning to you and interrogating, “What is this? Is this milk?” 

“Haha, yeah. Milk. It’s just milk,” you force out. You wish you could crawl into a hole and disappear at this moment from the sheer amount of embarrassment you feel. You awkwardly apologize, “Um, sorry about that.” 

“I mean, it’s okay I guess. Accidents happen,” the student shrugs.  

“Alright, if that’s all, we have to set up for today’s lecture. If you’ll excuse us,” Professor Touya intervenes. The student then walks off to take his seat as other students start trickling in. With the student now out of earshot, you confront him. 

“I hate you so much right now,” you say. “That was so embarrassing!” He chuckles at your situation, evidently very entertained by your dismay.

But as much as this circumstance embarrasses you, you can’t help but want more of last night, ruined papers be damned. Feeling bold, you ask, “Make it up to me?”

He gives you a cocky smirk, thrilled to know you want to be fucked dumb yet again. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he agrees. “I’ll be waiting in my office whenever you want me.”

Tags: @the-milk-anon , @mirayasimpinghard

[poopwons]

**Break My Heart**-Ft. Jean Kirstein 18+ MDNI!!

Synopsis: You and Jean break up, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Maybe you'll call him? (surprise, you will)

Content: (NSFW), F!Reader, Jean’s POV, post break up feelings, angst, cursing, depressed Jean, pet names, handjobs, fingering, praise kink, Jean has a teensy bit of a size kink, collaring (if you squint), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, people), cream pie, hair pulling, light alcohol consumption

a/n: I have never written anything this long before, but I got the idea in my head and it would not get out so, here it is. I was literally driving home from work listening to Olivia Rodrigo and Happier came on, so that's what inspired this 🥰 Huge shoutouts to @jeanboyjean and @cowgirlikets for encouraging me through this entire process!💜💜💜 ***also I know absolutely nothing about plumbing, so sorry if all of that is completely inaccurate LOL***

words: 6.9k

Two months, four days.

That’s how long it’s been. That’s the last time Jean saw you in person, talked to you at all. Sure, he’s wanted to reach out, he’s gotten drunk a few times and Connie had to wrench his phone out of his hands when he saw your name on the screen. Jean had yelled at him, tried to push him off, but Connie ended up with the phone, locking it away before helping Jean to bed. All in all Connie was looking out for him more than anyone else. That’s what good roommates are for, right?

Though, Jean is sure that Connie never expected to ever see his friend like this. Hell, Jean never thought he’d be this way; he never even thought of the possibility of the two of you splitting at all. The first week after you told him you didn’t want to keep seeing him, he stayed in bed, blaring awful sad songs, just wallowing in his own self pity. He supposes he still is, even months later.

The days without you have slowed to a crawl. He still thinks about you all the time, it takes all his will power not to scroll through your instagram, wondering if you’re thriving without him, or if you’re just as fucked up as he is. He doesn’t want to know, he’s not that desperate yet. Still, thoughts of you plagued him every moment it seemed like. Who does he make breakfast for now? Making a single serving for himself just seems.. pathetic, pointless, in comparison to making something for you.

The two of you had a great routine, his favorite, he thinks. You’d wake up, curled in his arms, peppering little kisses to his face, trying to wake him up. He’d groan at you before running his hands to your sides to tickle you, calling you a menace for disturbing a man’s sleep. The little giggles he’d pull from you were his favorite sound, he’d never heard anything better. Then he’d get up, make coffee and breakfast for the two of you while you showered. Sometimes he’d say fuck the breakfast and shower with you instead. Hot water cascading down the two of you, the smell of your shampoo in his nose as he kissed the back of your neck while washing your hair. Fuck. He needs to stop. Think about anything else, he curses himself, his brain can’t keep doing this to him, can it?

But, turns out, it can. Who makes your tea the way you like it, muddled with honey and a splash of cream? Who else knows that you only want earl grey when it’s raining because that’s what your mom would give you when you came inside from splashing around in puddles when you were little? That you want chamomile when you’re sick, and coffee most mornings, unless you’re anxious, then you want English breakfast. Who knows the way you order your meals from your favorite restaurants? That you don’t like water chestnuts because “they’re too crunchy without enough flavor”, or that you hate fast food lettuce but will completely devour the caesar salad from the diner downtown because you say the lettuce is always “the perfect amount of crisp and never soggy”? What does he do with all this little information that he’s learned about you, that’s now completely useless to him since you’re not here?

Connie managed to drag Jean out to go have lunch with him and Sasha the next day. It’s the first time he’s been out in weeks for something other than work. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the most he can manage with how exhausted he’s been. The little chain that you picked out for him draped across his collarbones. He likes that memory. You dragged him into a jewelry store, showing him the necklace, saying something about how you thought it’d look good on him. He was never much of a jewelry person, but for you? He agreed, but only if you’d get a matching bracelet, and you did. You said it was your favorite, you loved it so much, and it went on like that, the two of you, in your matching pieces, wearing them everyday…

“Jean,” Connie breaks him out of his thoughts, he wonders if he could tell that he was thinking about you again.

“What,” his tone is flat, nothing like his usual light hearted one.

“Dude, don’t you think you should take that off?”

Jean looks down at his chain, then back at Connie, a frown plastered on his face.

“No, I don’t want to take it off.”

“Look, man, I know you’re still upset, but.. doesn’t that make it worse?”

Jean can’t stand the look of pity he’s getting, he shrugs and doesn’t reply. Take it off? And then what, get rid of it? No. No, he can’t get rid of it, you got it for him. It would be like throwing you away.. and he’s just not ready to do that, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be.

Sasha kicks Connie under the table, the two of them had clearly talked about how to handle today and it seems like Connie is going off script. Jean can’t take it anymore, he can’t stand the way his friends are looking at him, he wants to look anywhere else. So, he does what he’s been trying to avoid. He pulls out his phone, opening up your instagram. You haven’t posted in a while, but there is one new picture. Jean’s heart lurches into his throat when he sees it. Who is that? Why is he with you? He’s never seen this guy before and he doesn’t like it, right down to his stupid green eyes, that idiotic man bun, and that shit-eating smile plastered on his face, like he’s mocking Jean without even trying. The picture is innocent enough, a selfie with his arm around you. But why is he touching you? Why are you letting him? Did you really move on this fast? Did you forget about Jean already? Is this the real reason you ended things with him, for this other guy?

He hears a faint grunt from across the table, then Sasha is talking to him, he hardly hears it, the blood is rushing in his ears. Connie snatches his phone from his hand, Jean can’t even find the energy to snap at him. Connie groans when he sees the screen.

“Shit, man… I was hoping you wouldn’t see that.” Connie practically winces when he meets Jean’s eyes, tears welling up in them. His voice breaks when he finally speaks up.

“Who is that with her?” He sounds like the world has been ripped from him.

Sasha speaks up from her side of the table, having seen the post as well. “I don’t know.. maybe they’re just friends. Don’t overthink it, it’ll be okay.”

He sends a pitiful look her way, it most definitely would not be okay. He takes his phone back from Connie, rising from the table, hell bent on getting back home. His brain is going a mile a minute thinking about you and.. whoever that was.

Two months, fifteen days.

He stays in his room all week. Barely leaving, laid up in bed scrolling through your entire instagram. All the pictures of you and him are gone. He can’t believe you got rid of them, did you delete them off your phone entirely? Were all those pictures slowly being replaced by new ones with this guy? He hates the thought of this stranger taking up camera space that should be his. He knows he shouldn’t.. looking through this idiot’s instagram isn’t going to make him feel any better, but he has to know why you chose him instead.

He swipes through this guy’s pictures, he’s even got a stupid name. Who spells their kids' name Eren? There aren’t a ton of posts, but the few that Jean does see has him rolling his eyes, gym selfies and photos of him playing a guitar, his long hair flowing down his shoulders. Great, so he’s ripped and talented. Jean’s not out of shape by any means, but he isn’t as cut as that, especially since he’s been skipping the gym the past couple of months, unable to find the energy to go, and he definitely can’t play any instruments. Maybe he should learn, would that impress you enough to finally reach out to him? No, that would take way too long, he wants to hear from you so much sooner than that. Maybe he can start growing his hair out.. would you like that? You never complained about his hair before but, this whole thing has thrown him for a loop. He’s questioning everything about himself wondering what Eren has that he doesn’t. Maybe Eren’s better in bed? No, that can’t be it. You never once complained about Jean’s performance, all those pretty sounds you made when he touched and kissed and sucked at all the right spots. No, he definitely knew what he was doing in that department. So, that can’t be it, which almost makes it worse. That must mean Jean failed you in some other way as a partner. Was he not attentive enough, not supportive enough? Did he not make enough time for you? Maybe he should have tried to plan more dates. The thoughts go on and on like this until he finally falls into a fitful sleep, what little dreams he has are plagued with you laughing at Eren’s stupid jokes, of you being happier with Eren than you ever were with him.

Jean is sitting up on the sofa in the living room, Connie had begged him to at least come out of his room so he knows the poor guy’s still alive. Jean is scrolling through yours and Eren’s pages, checking yet again for any more posts.

“Dude, seriously? Are you looking at that guy’s page again?” Connie asks, as he sits down on the couch with a bowl of cereal.

Jean gives him a noncommittal grunt, before shoving his phone in Connie’s face. “I mean, what does she even see in him? He’s not that good looking and he has stupid hair. He probably can’t even play that guitar.” 

Connie gives him a sympathetic look, he knows it can’t be easy for Jean to see you with someone else, but it’s been almost three months since you two split. All the same, he’s Jean’s friend, he can’t always tell him what he wants to hear, right? He sets his bowl down with a sigh, bracing himself for what he’s about to say.

“Come on, man. He looks like a decent enough guy. I know this is hard for you, but don’t you want her to be happy?”

“She’s supposed to be happy with me! Me, not this fucker with a guitar, who’s side are you on, anyway?”

“I’m on your side, you know that, but this is nuts, she’s just a chick. You’ve been hung up for almost three months. You need to get back to the shit you used to do. When was the last time you even went to the gym? That used to be so important to you. You should go back, get some endorphins going, that would make you feel better.”

Jean huffs, Connie just doesn’t get it. He gets up off the couch and walks over to the entryway, pushing his shoes on. “She’s not just some chick, dude.” He spits the words out before walking out the door. Maybe a walk would clear his head. He knew in some regards, Connie was right, he hasn’t been taking the best care of himself lately, but his “just a chick” comment has Jean seeing red and he can’t focus on any of the other rational things Connie’s said.

He walks and walks until it gets dark outside, when he finally gets home he scarfs down a protein bar and flops down in bed. Closing his eyes and drifting off relatively quickly, worn out from the walk, maybe he should go back to the gym, he thinks, if a walk has worn him out so much. He doesn’t know how long he sleeps for, but the buzzing from his night table lulls him out of sleep. Bleary eyed and groggy, he picks up the phone staring at the screen. He must be seeing things. Or he’s still asleep and this is a dream. He sits up abruptly, rubbing his eyes, looking at the screen again. Sure enough, it’s your name that’s up on the screen, the phone is still buzzing in his hand as he stares at the caller id. It finally hits him that if he doesn’t answer it’ll go to voicemail and you might not call back. He fumbles to swipe his finger over the answer key, almost dropping his phone in the process.

“Hello?” Jean tries to make his voice sound calm and not rushed, despite the fact that his heart is practically beating out of his chest over something as simple as a phone call, at the prospect of actually hearing your voice for the first time in months.

“Hey, uh, it’s me. Well, duh, you probably know that.” Your voice sounds just as angelic as he remembers and part of him thinks he might cry right on the spot. “um, listen, I didn’t know who else to call, I-I know it’s late.”

“No, no, I’m uh, I’m awake. Wha-what’s up?” He hates how nervous he sounds, but he can’t help it, even his hands are shaking. 

“Can you come over? There’s like, a leak in my apartment, and the office is closed, I just don’t want to lose my deposit. I’m sure they’ll find some way to blame it on me and not their shitty plumbing. I mean.. Obviously, if you’re busy, it’s okay, I can figure something else out.”

So, you’re calling him to come help you, not Eren, interesting. Jean feels over the moon, maybe Eren isn’t all he’s cracked up to be after all. 

“No, I’m not busy, it’s fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Just try to soak up all the water you can.” Jean says as he scrambles off his bed, going to the bathroom to check his hair in the mirror, smoothing some parts that got ruffled in his sleep. He looks at his shirt, cursing silently that he’s still wearing this sweaty t-shirt. He puts you on speaker and quickly pulls the fabric off, throwing it in the hamper.

“Thank you so much, you’re really doing me a huge favor.”

He pulls a fresh shirt over his head, the shirt getting caught in his frantic movements causing him to have to talk louder than normal, so you can hear him over the muffle of the fabric, “yeah, it’s no problem, I’ll be there soon.” He’d do you a million favors if it meant he got to see you. You hang up and he slips on his shoes, rushing out the door to get to your place with his tools.

Jean’s heart is hammering out of his chest the whole drive to your place, it feels like his body is vibrating with anxiety. He’s practically white knuckling his steering wheel, his brain just going and going. He finally gets to see you, he’ll get to see you. He hopes you’re wearing his favorite pair of sweats. He always thought you looked so cute in them, so comfy and cozy. Excitement is starting to bubble in, until he thinks, oh, god. What if he’s there? What if Jean has to see you and Eren together in person, in a situation where he can’t just walk away. Oh, fuck, why didn’t he think about this before? He was just so excited to hear your voice, to see you, that he wasn’t thinking. If he has to see this idiot touch you right in front of him he thinks he might punch him. That would not look good on him, you’d probably even get mad at him, that’s the last thing he needs. He pulls up to your apartment before he knows it, punching in the gate code that he still has memorized, begging and praying to whatever good karma he’s drummed up in the universe, that Eren fucking Jaegar is not in your apartment with you.

He knocks on your door, fussing with his hair a little as he bounces on the balls of his feet, unsure what to do with all this nervous energy. When he hears the lock disengage he pulls his hand away from his hair as fast as he can, trying to look as casual as possible, like he hasn’t thought about you every second of every day for the past three months.

“H-hi,” you answer the door, obviously feeling a little uncomfortable with this whole situation yourself, but he doesn’t know if it’s the same kind of nerves he’s having or something else. But fuck, you look so pretty, so so pretty, with your hair draped over your shoulders in loose waves, the way you always wore it before, wearing a crew neck and some shorts. 

“He-” Jean’s voice cracks, it fucking cracks. Seriously? What, is he sixteen again? He clears his throat and starts again, “Hey,” 

You let him in, and he gets enveloped in your smell, he practically sighs as he breathes in the familiar comfortable scent of you and your things. He didn’t know you could miss a person’s smell this much. He looks around expecting to see the place how he remembers, but he’s thrown off when everything looks different. You’ve rearranged all your furniture. Thankfully, though, you’re the only one here, there’s no sign of another guy having been here at all. He lets out a little sigh of relief, following you into the kitchen where sopping towels are littering the floor. 

“I just came home from work and found it like this. I don't know what happened.” you say, waving your arm to the floor.

“Well, let’s just see. I’m sure it’s just a loose rivet or something,” Jean walks past you, trying his best not to let your proximity as he does get to him, fighting the urge to just take you in his arms and not let go. That’s not why he’s here, you didn’t call him for that. He’s thankful that you called him for an actual task, something for him to focus on so he’s not just staring at you, he’s afraid if he stares too long he’ll snap.

You stand in the kitchen with him while he patches everything up, it’s an easy fix, just like he thought. A baby with a wrench could fix this, so again, his mind drifts back to why you called him and not Eren, not that he’s complaining. He thinks it all feels very domestic, you watching him fix up things around the house. He’d fix everything you asked him too if he could hold onto this feeling. He’s surprised when you crouch down next to him, trying to see what he’s doing.

“It was loose, right here, I’m just tightening it up.” He smiles as he looks at you briefly, he can’t help it, you just look so pretty and you’re right next to him, right where you belong. 

You smile back at him and he feels his heart lurch again, turning the wrench a little more, satisfied with his work, he catches your eye, “and that should do it, you should be all set now.” 

He stands up, wiping his hands on his pants before offering you a hand up. When you take his hand he bites back a smile at the feel of your hand in his again after so much time, even if it is a harmless interaction. Standing up with him, you don’t pull your hand away right away, lingering there for just a second too long. Did he imagine that? No, no you definitely lingered. 

You brush a strand of hair behind your ear and smile at him sheepishly. “Thanks again, I really appreciate it.” God, your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“It’s not a problem, I don’t mind helping you.” Jean runs a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck, looking away from you, still nervous. He knows the whole reason he came is taken care of now, and he doesn’t want to leave, but he thinks that’s what you might want. 

“So, I should–”

“Do you want–”

You both speak at once, sharing a nervous chuckle. Jean lets you go first, giving you a look that says so.

“Do you, um.. Want a drink?” You look nervous, awkward. Surely he’s imagining it, he doesn't want to get his hopes up too high. “It’s the least I could do, calling you over here on a Friday night. I’m sure you had better things to do.” You give him another shy smile and he swears he could melt into a puddle right there.

“Uh, sure. Y-yeah, a drink sounds good.” 

“All I have are those hard seltzers I usually get, that okay?” you ask like you expect him to remember, and he does. He wants you to know how much he remembers about you; everything, he remembers everything. 

So, just drinks for yourself? No beer, no liquor, nothing he thinks a guy like Eren might drink. Interesting. So far, everything he’s observed has led him to the conclusion that maybe you and Eren aren’t together. Maybe Sasha was right, and the two of you are just friends?

“That’s fine,” He bends down, putting his wrench away, placing his tool bag on your counter. Turning back to look at you, the slim can in your hand as you hold it out to him. He takes it, following you over to the couch where you both take a seat next to each other. 

His body feels like it’s vibrating, sitting this close to you. You didn’t have to sit this close, but you did. He pops the tab, taking a drink to calm his nerves, and you do the same. 

“So, how have you been? It’s been a while.” You speak so softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear again, a nervous habit. Are you feeling the same tension he is? Is he making it all up because he missed you so much?

“Uh, good, good.” He lies, what is he supposed to say? That he’s been completely miserable without you? No, if he’s wrong and you have moved on, he has to at least pretend he’s been doing alright. “Work is, well, work, you know. Haven’t been doing much else. What about you?”

“Y-yeah, no, things are, um, they’re okay. I finally got promoted at work.” you smile at him again, before taking another sip. “I’m officially management.”

Pride swells in his chest, he knows how badly you wanted to move up in your job, how much you craved more responsibility. He’s glad your place of work is finally acknowledging your potential.

“Hey, that’s great. I’m really happy for you,” and he is, genuinely. “Is it everything you wanted it to be?”

You give a little snort, “I mean, I guess. Workplace drama is a lot more stressful when you’re actually the one in charge of trying to defuse it, instead of just listening to all the gossip.” 

“Well, I’m sure you’re handling it fine, you were always good at that kind of stuff.” 

You huff a little laugh again, thanking him before pulling the sleeves of your crew neck up while adjusting your position on the couch. That’s when he sees it, that little glimmer of silver on your wrist. His heart pounds harder as he sees it. You’re still wearing your bracelet. You still have it. 

“You’re still wearing that,” Jean points out, his voice coming out little more than a whisper, like he just can’t believe it, his eyes locked on the bracelet.

A blush blooms across your cheeks and Jean is positive it’s not just the alcohol. Fuck not getting his hopes up, you wouldn’t still be wearing something he got you if you didn’t miss him a little bit. 

“Oh, yeah..” you fiddle with the bracelet with your free hand, “I um.. I feel a little naked without it, you know?” you cheeks are still flushed as you look up at him. 

Jean just smiles at you, “yeah, I know what you mean.” he says as he pulls the chain out from under his shirt. “I got so used to wearing it everyday, it just doesn’t feel right with it off.” It’s not even a lie, just, not a full truth. His nerves are slowly fading away, getting replaced with renewed hope.

“Well, it does still look good on you,” you reach your hand up to run your fingers along the chain, Jean feels a jolt of electricity in your touch that practically lights his skin on fire, and that’s when he really knows. There’s no way you’d be touching him like this if you didn’t miss him, if you were seeing someone else. He’s never felt so much relief in his life. “Suits you, for sure.” 

He takes his hand placing it over yours, goosebumps prickling his skin where your fingers dance along the chain. “You..um, you have good taste,” he says, his breath turning a little shallow, he knows he’s not imagining all the tension that’s been slowly building up since he got here. “I never would have picked anything like this for myself.”

Your hand is so small in his, he’s always been bigger than you, taller, more muscular. He didn't realize how much he missed it until now, he was so caught up with missing all the other parts of you that this bit seemed to have slipped his mind. You’re looking at him with your pretty doe eyes, letting him hold your hand, he can practically see the hearts in your eyes, looking at him like you used to. Fuck it, he’s going for it. Drinks completely forgotten on the coffee table as he scoots a little closer to you, just enough so that your knees are touching.

“I’ve really missed you.” He whispers, leaning in just a little closer, he hears your breath hitch in your throat, your eyes flitting to his lips. 

He smiles as you lean in too. You want it just as much as he does. “Me too..”

When he finally presses his lips to yours he almost explodes with happiness, he’s feeling giddy, all these pent up feelings pouring out into your lips. He cups the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, a silent request for permission. He sighs as you grant it, opening your mouth for him so he can glide his tongue along yours, and you moan into his mouth. You fucking moan. He loses any semblance of control he had. His hands move, roaming over your back and the two of you lose yourselves in the moment. Without really thinking about it he pulls you onto his lap, moving his mouth to press hot kisses to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin. It always was one of your favorite spots. His hands run under your sweatshirt, caressing your back, savoring the feel of your soft skin under his palms.

“Missed you so fucking much.” Jean breathes out between kisses, groaning as you grind your hips onto his lap when he kisses your neck again.

“Missed you too. Thought…Thought about you all the time…” Your words are broken up by little gasps. Jean thinks he could die happy, just like this, but then your hands go to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off, running your hands over the contours of his chest and he feels like he’s going to burn out of his skin.

His hands follow suit with yours, pulling your sweatshirt off, discarding it on the floor next to his, drinking in the sight of you, sighing when he sees your bare chest. Running his hands over your tits, kissing his way down your neck and your collarbone before taking one of your nipples into his mouth and starts kissing and sucking, pinching at the other one with his free hand. You arch your back into his touch and he moves his hands back around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He just needs you closer, so much closer.

You just grind against him, he can feel the heat coming off of you, listening to your breath get more and more ragged as you wrap your arms around his neck in order to get closer, pulling his head up. 

“I’m sorry. Jean, I’m so sorry.. I never should have–” your voice sounds broken, despite the desire and need coursing through the both of you. It breaks his heart to hear you sounding so sad. You don’t even have to explain what you’re apologizing for, he already knows. 

Jean cuts you off with a kiss, running his fingers through your hair, shushing you softly. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He soothes, pressing soft kisses between his words. “Later. We’ll talk about it later, yeah?” He pulls back, pressing his forehead to yours, looking in your eyes with all the love he has for you. 

You give him a feeble little nod, kissing him passionately. Your tongues glide together as you taste each other, making up for lost time, and god, does he want to make up for it. With that in mind, his hands move to the plush of your ass, squeezing as you keep your lips on him. As much as he doesn’t want to push you away from him, he needs to touch you. He runs his hands over your bare thighs before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, pushing you back just enough so he can get the leverage he needs. Tugging them off, you lift your hips to help him. He looks down and sees you clad in lace, one of his favorite pairs. A brief look of surprise as his brain sorts through it. You… you planned for this, at least to some degree. All doubts completely leave his head as a satisfied grin curls on his lips. 

“You wear these just for me, baby?” He murmurs into your ear as he nips at your earlobe, fingers already dancing along the sides of your panties. 

You give him another nod and a breathy little sound that he assumes, if you were able to form the words, would be a confirmation. He pushes the material aside, running a finger through your folds. Shit, you're so fucking wet for him. He’s going to lose his mind. His finger swirls around your clit, eliciting moans and gasps from you. You’re already starting to squirm for him and he doesn’t let up, still swirling little circles with the pad of his finger. 

“J-Jean,” you moan out his name and cling to him, holding his head tightly to your chest. 

“‘M right here, baby, I got you. You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” 

“Y-yes, yes, yes, fuck!” He feels your legs shaking on him, still moving his hand. God, he missed seeing you like this. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl, did so well for me. ” He purrs into your skin, pressing kisses to your neck, giving you a second to catch your breath.

Turns out you don’t even want a breather, your hands moving desperately to his lap, frantically trying to undo his buttons, slipping your hand in and wrapping around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Jean groans under his breath, lifting his hips with you still on his lap, so he can shove his pants down enough for you pull him all the way out.

Your hand pumps him, smearing the precum over his flushed tip, causing him to suck in a sharp breath. You keep working him, your hands are always so soft, twisting your wrist a bit on the way up, squeezing the tip just a little. He loves the way he looks in your hands, your smaller ones making him look even bigger. His eyes catch a little glimmer, and he groans again when he sees you jerking him with your bracelet bouncing on your wrist with your movements. All he can think about is that you’re his, you're his, you're his. That one little accessory tells the whole world. Maybe he’ll replace it with a ring. He leans forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck, taking a shaky breath.

“Shit, you’re makin’ me feel so good, but I don’t… fuck, I don’t want to cum like this.” He pulls back to look in your eyes, seeing nothing but how good you want to make him feel and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. 

He pulls your panties to the side again, lifting you up, lining himself up with your entrance and pulls you down onto him. Jean thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. He has never felt anything better than you wrapped around him like this. You both let out audible moans, as you adjust to him. Without any warning, you start bouncing on him. His eyes roll back as he drops his head to the back of the couch. Your bounces are slow, deliberate, he’s sure he’s in heaven.

“You feel so good. Love how full you make me feel.” You murmur, breathy, into his ear, bracing yourself on his shoulders. 

As much as he’d love to just sit here and bask in you riding him, he’s going to cum way too soon if he lets you keep going like this, especially if you keep using that mouth of yours to whisper everything he’s been wanting to hear for the past three months in his ear. He moves his hands back to your ass, grabbing handfuls of you, doing the work for you for another second or two before he wraps his arm around your waist he starts fucking up into you. 

“Missed my pussy so much, baby. She’s mine, yeah? That’s what this means doesn’t it?” He growls, taking your wrist, adorned with your bracelet, showing it to you. “That’s why you never took it off? Been mine this whole time haven’t you?”

Your walls squeeze him, as you hear his words, and he groans again. “All yours, Jean.. al-always yours.”

In all his desperation to get close to you, to get inside of you, he didn’t think your panties would cause a problem, but at this point they’re in his way, they won’t stay to one side. He moves his hand, gripping the flimsy garment, and pulls hard, tearing them.

“Jean!” You protest, looking down at where the two of you are connected.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” He mutters before he picks up his pace, finally able to fuck you the way he wants, slamming his hips up into you. 

You don’t seem to care so much anymore, as your eyes roll back, and you let out a cry. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, moving to bury your face in his neck. And for Jean, right now, that just won’t do, he wants to see you, wants to see your face contorted in pleasure. He brings his hand to the back of your neck, tugging your hair so you’re looking at him. 

“Look at me, baby, wanna see you.” Shit, he already feels close. Not having you for all these months, and finally getting you, getting to see in your face how good he’s making you feel and how much you missed him too. He didn’t think he was going to last long anyway. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you hungrily, all tongues and teeth. 

“Ba-baby, ‘m close,” you whine, eyes glazed over, face scrunched up just the way he likes. 

“Me too, cum with me, yeah?” His hand snakes between you, finding your clit, rubbing circles on it with his thumb.

He feels you clenching around him, cunt pulsing and god he missed this feeling, missed feeling you come apart just for him. You say his name again and again like a prayer and he just can’t hold back anymore. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m shit–” He tries to warn you so you can get off of him, but you just stay put, slamming down on him again and again. He cums hard, painting your insides white. 

Still holding onto you tightly, one hand on your neck and the other around your waist, you both just stay locked in an embrace, panting. Each of your heads are resting on the others shoulders, Jean presses little kisses there while he catches his breath. 

“God, I really did miss you so much.” He whispers into your skin. “And not just this, all of it. I missed all of you.”

“I know, I missed you too. I wanted to call you or text you, or anything. I just…didn’t think you wanted to talk to me.” Your fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck and he just savors the moment. 

Neither one of you moves, you just sit there holding each other. You haven’t even gotten off of him yet, his cock going soft inside you, feeling his cum leak out onto his lap, but he couldn’t care less. He just runs his fingertips up and down your back tenderly. 

“You really scared me, you know that?” Jean says when he finally feels like breaking the silence.

You lift your head, giving him a puzzled look. “What do you mean? How did I scare you?”

Jean sighs, it sounds stupid now, in hindsight, thinking that you had moved on. “I thought you were dating that Eren guy. You posted a picture with him and I kind of freaked out.”

It seems like it takes a second for his words to register, because you’re quiet for a moment before you burst into a full fit of laughter. Jean just gives you a pointed look. He doesn’t see what’s so funny about that. You’re laughing so hard you practically roll off of him, landing on your side on the couch, your legs still draped over him. He follows suit, cuddling you when he gets onto his side. 

“What’s so funny?”

You finally stop laughing long enough to answer him. “Eren? EW.” you manage to get out before you start giggling again. “He’s like a brother to me, we grew up together. I haven’t seen him before that post since he left for school. You really thought I was dating Eren??” 

Jean’s cheeks flush, a little pout forming on his face. “What was I supposed to think? He was way too close to you in that picture.”

Your laughter subsides, and you brush some hair out of his face, giving him a soft smile. “He just took me out for the day because I was so sad about you. I felt like I’d made a big mistake, and he just wanted to get my mind off of it for a little while. Besides, even if he wasn’t like a brother, he’s been in love with the same girl from middle school since he was like, twelve years old.”

You look like you have more to say but you’re hesitating. Clearly feeling a little nervous, he just nudges you gently, wanting you to continue.

You take a deep breath before going on, “I am sorry.. I shouldn’t have broken up with you, and for such a stupid reason.”

“What was the reason, exactly?” He asks, he never actually got the full story.

“I just… I liked you too much, things were going too well. I guess I kind of panicked, wondering when the other shoe was going to drop.”

Jean just stares at you, of all the reasons he thought it was, he didn’t think it was this.

“So… you broke up with me, because things were going too well?”

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that!” You bury your face into his chest, hiding your blush. “I said I was sorry.”

“What if there’s no other shoe? What if we’re just good together? Did you think about that?” He asks, no malice or hurt in his voice, just genuine curiosity. He presses a little kiss to the top of your head, trying to soothe you.

“There’s always another shoe.” You mutter, not bothering to lift your head up.

Jean sighs, taking your chin in his hand, pulling you up so that you’re eye to eye with him. “Baby, I promise, I will do everything in my power to ensure that there is no other shoe, okay? You have a problem, just talk to me. Let me be there for you, let me try and make things better. I’m not saying everything will be perfect all the time, but just know I’ll try my damndest for you.” He presses a kiss to your lips, sealing his promise. 

“Yeah.. okay,” you finally give him another smile, and he kisses you again, unable to resist. “So, can I be your girlfriend again?”

“As long as you promise not to break up with me for such a stupid reason ever again.” He smiles at you again, pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling you back into his chest.

“Promise,” you mumble as you nuzzle into him.

Jean’s happier than he’s been in months, with you in his arms, right back where you belong.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!💖

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

black friday - m. murdock

a/n: an old work i finished because i decided y'all are owed something cute and fluffy. shoutout to all my girlies who were in codependent relationships for so long that they needed to figure out who they were again after ! as always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! warnings: lots of fluff, lots of kissing, lots of talks about a bad ex, reader is rather shy at first, cursing probably but it's late and i'm probably forgetting so much im so sorry also a lot of suggestive behavior because they're in love word count: 4.5k summary: you have a list of things to do within a year of living in new york. matt helps you check everything off- oh, and you fall in love with him, too. it's not on the list, but you do it anyways. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: black friday - tom odell "i wanna go party/i wanna have fun/wanna be happy/could you show me how it's done?/ you look so pretty/pretty like the sun"

For a long time, you thought you’d never get over your ex.

For a long time, you believed that you were it for each other. You’d go the whole nine yards—Kids, a quaint house in your hometown, Sunday dinners.

And for a long time after he broke up with you, you thought you’d never let yourself love again. How could you? How would you allow yourself to be set up for failure, after letting someone know every part of you?

You had been dating him since high school and had been living with him in your first apartment when he broke it off.

Sometimes, it was amazing, and you were never happier. But most days, it had been full of anger and talking him off the ledge all the time. It was makeup sex after arguments you couldn’t remember now.

So, when he did break up with you, you decided to use it as an excuse to run far, far away from your small town. And you found yourself in Hell’s Kitchen.

You land a job at a small law firm, and at first, you just work as a meek little office assistant.

Nelson, Murdock & Page grew by the day, and for a while, you felt out of place. It wasn’t that you were abused or worked to the bone, you just struggled to make friends, and you weren’t very social while getting over your ex anyways.

So, for about two months, you did your job quietly, laughing quietly at the bickering of your bosses, thanking Karen Page for her advice, enjoying coffee with Foggy Nelson, and of course…

Never muttering a word to Matt Murdock. He was just too intimidating. Besides, you still felt like your ex’s eyes were watching your every move, even thousands of miles away, even now.

Then one night, Foggy couldn’t handle it anymore. So, he approached you quietly at the end of a long workday, with a simple phrase.

“This week’s been crazy, huh? Hey, a few of us are going to the bar tonight, did you want to come?”

What were you supposed to say? ‘No, my ex who I don’t talk to wouldn’t like that?’

Please.

“Oh, Uhm.. I don’t know, who else is going?”

“It’ll be me, my wife, Marci, Karen..” He said.

“Sure, I’ll come.” You smiled, before you could stop yourself.

“Awesome! I’ll send you the address! I’m so glad you’re tagging along!” He grins. You’re thrilled too.

“Me too, it’ll be fun.” He begins to walk away but then he turns back around with a snap of his fingers.

“Oh! And Matt is going!”

Why wouldn’t he tell you that in the first place? Why was your face burning? Why was your heart racing?

“Oh, Great.” You told him, now suddenly conscious of everything about that night.

• • •

At the bar, you wound up ordering a drink before you went over to your friends—Well, Coworkers, you wouldn’t call them friends yet, thanking the woman behind the bar.

Then, you made your way over to them where Foggy was playing his wife in Pool—and losing horribly. So, you sit with Karen and Matt, where there is conveniently one seat available, right between the two.

Karen excitedly said your name as you approach adding a, “I can’t believe you came!” Which, ouch, but, fair.

“Well, Foggy was right, this week’s been awful, so I wanted to relax.” You smiled, sitting with them.

“I’m glad,” she said, before asking, “So, why’d you move to New York?” She knew you weren’t from here, so you figured the question would come up eventually.

“Just needed a change of pace from a small town, you know?”

“I do,” she nodded, “Do you like it here?”

Did you like being alone all the time, feeling like you’re always doing something wrong? Like you should run back to your hometown and beg your ex to marry you?

“Yeah, I love it. It’s so different in a way I wasn’t really prepared for, but it’s great.” You lied.

Matt’s blind. Why did it feel like he has this burning gaze into your skin?

“Did you go to college in your hometown, too?”

“Yeah,” You smile. You loved College. You were an early education major and had even gotten your masters in your small community college. You loved teaching, and if you hadn’t moved, you’d have stayed at the school that hired you after student teaching there. But, when you got to the city, you were unable to find consistent work because the demand for teachers was so high.

So here you were, working as an office assistant for a small law firm.

Karen glanced down to her glass and frowned.

“I’m going to grab another drink, do either of you want anything?”

“I’m good, Karen.”

“No, thank you.”

Silence. Sickening silence.

Then, he spoke.

“Do you know how upset I am that you got your drink already?”

What?

You furrowed your brows, confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“I wanted to buy you a drink, but you beat me to it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You repeated, a light blush on your face.

“Well, I figured it might be nice to wipe the slate clean, considering you haven’t spoken more than ten words to me since you started working with us.”

That was true. There’s just something that feels so wrong about it, even though you worked with him,

“I’m sorry,” you said again, and he just laughed.

“You say that a lot.”

“I’m sor—” You caught yourself, clearing your throat. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, you speak to everyone, just not me. So, I listen and I’m pretty sure you apologize more than anything else.”

Your face was beet red.

“Okay, Okay, I get it. I don’t talk a lot, especially not to you. It’s something I’m working on, I have a whole list of things I’m working on.”

That’s true. You had an actual list of goals you have before your first year in New York is up.

“A list?”

“A list.”

“May I?” He asked, and you sighed, pulling out your phone, your list nestled deep into your notes app.

“Apologize less and talk to you is at the top.” You told him. “Then it’s get a job I love,”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry, Boss.” You took a sip of your drink, “Move into a nicer apartment, and uh..” You sighed softly. “Get over my ex.”

He tilts his head.

“Your ex?”

“The reason I moved here. He broke up with me about six months ago, but we were together for so long it feels like an impossible task.”

Matt knows the feeling.

“It’s an easy enough list. We can help you.” He says, “When did you move to New York?”

“May 1st.”

“Okay, then by May of next year, you should have everything accomplished.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna help you.”

“Oh, so now it’s you and not all of you?”

Now it’s his turn to blush.

“You’re rather talkative now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

• • •

Talking to Matt is easy, you discover quickly.

It’s the apologizing that gets you.

You’re staying late at the office about a month later, while Hell’s Kitchen is amid a blistering heat wave.

You feel like you might die. You’re editing a closing argument Foggy wants to practice when Matt calls your name gently.

“Can I see you in my office for a second?” He asks. You follow him into his office, not really thinking much of it.

“What’s up?” You ask, sitting in the spare chair in his office as he closes the door behind him, going to the seat at his desk.

“Well, remember that list we talked about?”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t heard much from you this week.”

That’s true, it’s just been sort of a hectic time with cases piling up. You can only do so much work AND talk to your favorite coworker. Yes, Matt had quickly become your favorite person at the office, even after just a month of really trying to open up to him.

He learned about your ex, your holiday traditions and that you hate peppermint.

You learned about his parents, his favorite dessert, and that he dresses up every night to go fight the criminals of New York.

Okay, you technically weren’t supposed to learn that, but you had stopped by his apartment early to drop off a file you were working on, and he had just crawled home and was still in his suit when he answered the door, forgetting completely that you didn’t know.

So now You knew how he was able to tell that you lied to Karen that night at the bar.

“I’m—” You start to apologize, but then you stop yourself. “I’m not sorry, I’ve been busy and so have you, but I do miss talking to you, though I am not sorry.” You say, and he grins.

“That’s my girl.”

Huh.

Your stomach swirls and you beam at the praise.

Wait, what?

You brush it off, before asking,

“Does Daredevil still come out to play even though it’s a hundred degrees out?”

“Will you have your window open with a few bottles of water open for me?”

“Always.”

“Then yes.”

Talking to Matt is rather easy. You have a feeling that soon the apologizing will follow.

• • •

October is the month of figuring out what you want to do with your life.

Sure, you love working in the office, but you are going crazy. You’re under stimulated and the hours are consistently long.

So, you try a lot of things.

You bake, you cook, you take exams, you work tirelessly to try and figure out where you want to work and where you’ll be happiest.

You try doing hair but find yourself uninspired.

You think you might like being a nursing assistant but turns out, you don’t like blood.

But part of you knows your heart isn’t in it, for two reasons.  

For one, you want to teach. You want to be teaching young kids’ addition and their spelling and stars. You desperately want to be a great influence in their lives.

And the second thing is..

You don’t want to leave your coworkers.

You love spending time with Karen and Foggy. For a long time, you didn’t have friends outside of your relationship, and they are the best friends you’ve ever had.

Foggy spends long coffee breaks cracking jokes with you and asking for your sandwich order, telling you that you have to stop by his brother’s deli for one of his signature subs. Then he tells you this long-winded story about how his mother wanted him to be a butcher, not a lawyer.

Karen is your favorite girl. She’s not only drop dead gorgeous and ridiculously smart, but she is also kind like no one you have ever met. She texts you when you forget to let her know you’ve gotten home safe, there is always a coffee on your desk when you get there and for your birthday, flowers are on your desk, scribbled with a cute note in her handwriting.

And then, there’s Matt.

He’s your best friend and knows you better than anyone. He loves having you right in the office where he can hear your heartbeat and smell your vanilla coconut perfume. He tells you about his dad and you tell him about your folks.

He knows your Chinese and Thai food orders like the back of his hand, always ordering you some when he gets his. You describe the movies you’re watching in detail, and he hangs on to every word. There is no one who sees you more than him, and he’s quite literally blind. When you tell him about your dream to go back into teaching, he encourages it.

“When I was a kid, I’d have benefited so much from someone like you.”

He asks you to do his makeup for his Halloween costume, no matter how badly it irritates his skin. He likes the idea of your hands so close to his face.

But you’re both critically aware of how, not only is the market flooded, but you’re dreading the day you leave your little office job.

So many people have asked if the two of you are dating. And you both always laugh, because.. because you just love each other in a way that you can’t describe. But no, you’ve never thought about dating Matt Murdock.

Until this one day.

It’s like any other day, really. You have your friends cramped in your tiny apartment and you’re just waiting for Matt’s arrival before you eat dinner for the night.

Karen, Foggy and Marci sit at your little table as you finish cooking, and Marci just glances over to you.

“You need to move to a better apartment.”

“I know, I know,” you laugh, “But she’s so cozy! I love it here!” It was, and is, all you could afford, but you grew to love it.

“Yeah, and I love having leg room.” Foggy chimes.

“You know what, Nelson? You could just, pay me more so I could move somewhere nicer?”

“Touche.” There’s a knock on the door, so you grin and head over there, opening the door for Matt.

And you need to take a second.

He’s holding your favorite bottle of wine, and he’s in these nice dark jeans and a gray sweater under his peacoat.

This thought strikes you.

This thing you thought you’d never feel again after your ex.

Matt Murdock is hot, and you have got to have him.

This is it. The thing you can’t deny any longer. You have a massive crush on the devil that disguises himself as your favorite person. To you, he is an angel.

“Hey,” you say breathily, as if you have it out for yourself. Surely he’ll know. “You didn’t have to bring wine.” You told him, a soft smile on your face.

He steps inside as you take the wine, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently, something he has found himself doing every time he enters your apartment. It’s your routine.  He loves this aspect of your dynamic because he has known that he’s wanted you for months. You’ve just been so caught up in everything that you didn’t see it.

“It’s no trouble, thank you for having us,” he says gently.

So this is it.

You just can’t deny it.

You have a massive crush on Matt Murdock, and there isn’t a thing you could do about it. Except maybe kiss him. But for that night, you just kind of relax and pretend you’re already dating him. That’s something you haven’t done in a long time.

You’re beginning to feel like yourself again.

• • •

Nelson Family Christmas celebrations are something of legend for you. For months you’ve heard about it, and you’re on your way to the deli with a handful of presents and two trays of cookies.

You’ve decided that just once, you want a holiday away from your family. Truth be told, you really don’t want to spend your holiday without your best friends.

You have on this stunning outfit—A red sweater, a black skirt and these warm black stockings. Boots to die for.

You know Matt can’t see your outfit, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to dress up for him. It’s weird. This crush thing has been getting out of control.

You’re greeted at the door of the Deli with a crowd full of blonde-haired New York Irish-Italians, and they’re all lovely. You put your presents down and place your cookies on the dessert table. And you love Foggy’s family. They ask you questions constantly, and Foggy’s sister-in-law talks to you for a while about her career in the local high school system.

It’s a joy to meet so many people so full of love.

So, you go over to Foggy as he’s yapping and say gently, “Hey, where’s Matt?”

He grins.

“Why do you want to go kiss him under the mistletoe?” He teases. Your face goes red.

“Shut up! Where is he, Franklin?” You glare and he laughs, patting your arm.

“Upstairs in the hallway.” He says, and as you walk away he calls, “Go get ‘em, Tiger!” You glare and grab a cookie on your way up.

And you find him, standing in a quiet corner of the hallway. You go to open your mouth and he turns to you.

“Merry Christmas,” he leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Matty.” You hum. “Guess what type of cookie I have.”

He sniffs the air and shakes his head. “Give me a taste and I’ll guess.” You hand him the cookie and he put it in his mouth halfway, raising his eyebrows to you.

“What?”

He gestures to the cookie in his mouth, and you laugh, realizing that he wants you to bite the other end, ala Lady and the Tramp. So you lean forward and take a bite, and he eats the rest, inches separating your face as you enjoy your treat.

People chatter down the hallway and Christmas music plays from somewhere. There are so many different foods and people, and all Matt can focus on is the vanilla coconut scent of your perfume. When you’re both finished eating your cookie, his hands find your waist.

“Matt, what are you—”

You don’t get the chance to finish because suddenly he is kissing you in the dark hallway of your friend’s family Christmas party. The kiss is wonderful. He tastes of the cookie you two shared. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

You need more kissing practice because it’s been so long. But you get the feeling that Matt won’t mind helping you out if this is another thing you want to add to your list.

When he pulls away, he’s a bit breathless but he says one thing to you.

“Chocolate chip peanut butter.”

“What?”

“That’s my guess for the cookie type.”

“Wanna kiss me again to confirm?” He grins and his hands travel down, just slightly to feel the materials of your skirt.

“That’s my girl.”

• • •

The next two months fly by in a whirl of kissing Matt, trying to find a teaching job and enjoying your first real winter in New York.

By the time March rolls around, the clock is ticking for you to be able to find a job in this school year. And then, Foggy and Matt get you the best gift ever.

“Mrs. Future Murdock,” You send Foggy a glare.

“Watch it.”

“Okay, listen—You remember that rich guy that was wrongfully accused of tax evasion?”

“Yeah, why?” You’re cleaning up your office space for the weekend, excited to go to Josie’s, have a few drinks and unwind with your very handsome boyfriend.

“Well, he’s a super intendent for a large school district in Hell’s Kitchen.” Your head snaps up to the two.

“What does that mean for me?” You raise an eyebrow.

“There’s an older teacher there who needed to have surgery and we thought, hey, we know a teacher who could sub in.”

“…Who?”

“You.” Matt says, and you grin. “Your interview is Monday.”

You gasp and hug Foggy quickly, before making your way over to Matt.

“You are the absolute best.” You kiss him quickly and his hands, as they often do, find themselves on your hips. “Thank you.”

What a lovely lovely man.

“Don’t thank us yet, you still need to get the job.” Right.

Your night at Josie’s is lovely but you spend the rest of your weekend prepping for the interview on Monday. It goes well, but something in you is telling you to stay anxious. Why? You have no idea.

It takes two weeks for them to get back to you. But you walk into the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page with a big grin. You walk right into Matt’s office, who glances up to you when you walk in, your heart racing.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I—” He cuts himself off when you walk right up to his desk and pull his chair out before finding yourself on Matt’s lap.  Your arms wrap around his neck and his arms find your waist. Before he can say much else, you kiss him quickly, and he grins into the kiss. Eventually, when you do pull away, Matt asks, “Everything okay?”

“Matty, consider this to be my two weeks’ notice.”

He gasps happily.

“Oh my god! How awful it is that you’re leaving us!” He grins, kissing you quickly. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you for getting me the interview.” You tell him, “You know if I do well, the teacher might let me coteach with her next year.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Our list is almost done, baby.”

“Your list, not ours.”

“Yeah but you’ve been helping so much.”

“You’re easy to help.”

“You’re easy to love.”

He blushes and decides to kiss his girl again.

• • •

 So, in April, a month before your year is up, you find yourself needing a new apartment. The rent is getting crazy, and it’s nowhere near the school you’re working in. Especially considering that the teacher you’re subbing for decided she wanted to retire so you’d be taking over for her full time come Fall.

Plus, your apartment is small and cramped, especially with Matt’s stuff slowly invading your place. You discuss this with him one night. It’s late and he’s covered in cuts from his Daredeviling.

“I hate apartment hunting.” You whine, and he hums, kissing your head gently. “Nowhere is good enough. Too far from the school, too far from you, too expensive.” You complain.

“Why don’t you move in here?”

Huh. Why hadn’t you thought of that? Was it too quick to be moving in with him at this point? Maybe, but something told you Matt wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Really?”

He grins.

“Really. It’s close to the school, a good price, and rather close to me.” You grin and kiss him softly. It’s your favorite habit.

So, two weeks later, you’re hauling boxes into your boyfriend’s apartment. You take a few drawers of his dresser and some of your nicer outfits find their way into his armoire. Your mugs sit comfortably next to his in his cabinets. Your cabinets.

Your throw blanket is draped comfortably across his couch, and your shoes lay next to his.

Your lotion sits next to his first aid kit. You love dating Matt Murdock.

You love that next month will be one year since you moved to New York, and your life is sort of coming together. Glorious Matthew Murdock is your boyfriend. Your job is amazing. Your apartment is wonderful. Matt Murdock is your boyfriend, and he is amazing at kissing you.

• • •

So, Matt knows May is your year since moving to New York. He knows you guys could go to Josie’s and have a normal old time at the bar…

But he wants to do something special for you. So, he asks Foggy, Marci and Karen to get dressed up and go to a bar on the nicer side of town. Not that you don’t love Josie’s but your one year in New York calls for a special occasion.

You decide to wear a nice satin dress and he loves running his hands over the soft fabric. To Mat, you are perfect in every way, and every day he falls deeper and deeper in love with you.

So on a warm May night in Hell’s Kitchen, you sit in a bougie bar with your best friends, boyfriend and enjoy a year since you moved to this wonderful place you now call home. And a year and four months since your ex broke up with you. Truly, for a long time, you thought you’d never get over him.

Now, Matt is all you see.

At some point, a little tipsy, you kiss Matt’s cheek gently and tell him you’re going to grab another drink.

“Do you want anything?” You ask softly.

“Just for you to come back soon. I’ll miss you.” Oh, Tipsy Matt was your favorite.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” You kiss him quick and head off to the bar. You order another drink and wait patiently, taking in just how happy you are in this moment.

Then, a familiar voice calls your name, and you glance over and you can’t believe it.

Your ex-boyfriend is right in front of you, and for a moment, you convince yourself you must be drunker than you realized.

“Wow, you look fantastic!” He says a grin on his face. Was… Was your ex ever… attractive? You can’t remember if he ever was. Especially not since dating Matt.

“Oh, Thanks..” You smile softly, trying to be polite but to get out of here quickly and get back to the arms of your loving boyfriend.

“Are you here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” You told him. “Some of my good friends, and—”

“So, you’re not seeing anyone?” You furrow your eyebrows. When did you say that?

Then, there’s an arm around your waist, and you know whose it is in an instant.

“Hey, Sweetheart.. Is everything okay?” Matt asks, smiling to you. Oh, he knows. He knows big time.

“Everything is great.” You turn to your ex and grin. “This is Matt, He’s my—”

“Fiancé.” Matt ends.

Fiancé?

“Fiancé?” Your ex asks, bewildered.

“Mhm. Got engaged a few days ago, that’s what we’re here celebrating.” You said gently, leaning your head against Matt’s arm.

“Engaged, but you’ve only been here for a year!”

“Well, I wasn’t about to wait around for you to ask me to date you again.” You glance over to Matt. “Besides, when you know you know.” You say softly.

Matt leans in and kisses you gently, “When you know, you know.” He echoes.

Your ex is wildly uncomfortable.

“I thought you said you’d always love me.” He says, and he has that intimidating tone to his voice that you hate.

“Yeah… Me too.. Guess I was wrong. You have a nice night, Okay?” You smile and take your drink, turning to head back to your friends. Your ex is bummed out but leaves you alone, and Matt grins to you further.

“When you know you know.” He hums.

“Fiancé..” You echo. He shrugs gently.

“I like the sound of it.”

“Me too.” You say gently. “I love you.”

“I love you, Sweetheart.” He kisses your cheek. “So… A year in New York.”

“Yup. My list is all done.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I talk to you all the time, and I don’t apologize unless it’s necessary. I love teaching and my job. My apartment is stellar, and… I think it’s safe to say I am over my ex. I upgraded. In fact, my upgrade is so much hotter than anyone else I know.”

Matt leans in to kiss you, a grin on his face, but he mutters a soft, “That’s my girl,” Before he does.

[pseudophan]

some post wad weekend thoughts...

i just wrote all this on the plane and haven't read it through so apologies for any mistakes

first of all, this weekend was incredible. i usually just kinda sit at home doing not much of anything, and this was a much needed break to actually have some fun. london in general always lifts my spirits but i suppose that danisnotonfire guy contributed a little as well.

guys i think i've met more people the past few days than i otherwise have in years. like. holy shit. i started listing people but i'm petrified i'll forget someone so i chickened out, sorry about that. but you all know who you are. i've met friends i've had for years, people i used to know but haven't spoken to in what feels like a decade, newer friends, and a frankly baffling amount of people i didn't know yet but who told me they've followed me for ages. like holy fuck you guys lmao what the hell??? and i mean did the reaction ever get old no of course it didn't. bad for my ego i'm sure but totally worth it. there's something very amusing and incredibly surreal about being chronically lame in most aspects of life and then suddenly finding yourself in an environment where you're kinda cool???? SO fucking fun oh my god, but also i do kinda feel like i've tricked you all? but hey i'll happily let you keep believing i'm cool, that is more than fine with me.

most importantly though everyone was SO lovely. like i said i don't think i've spoken to this many people in such a short amount of time in years and every single person i talked to was awesome. guys did you know phannies are kind of great... don't tell anyone but, lowkey... everyone is so funny and cool and absolutely insane but in a good way (shoutout everyone left at the gates until the very end, we should probably get some help).

and then lastly of course, mr howell himself. i talk about this a lot i feel like but fuck me that man was born to perform. whether you think he's actually funny or not, nobody can argue he doesn't absolutely thrive on a stage. he plays off the audience so well and he's so very obviously having the time of his fucking life. i'd already seen the show twice before this, and i didn't think anything would top the previous london show but man... the first night he came back out after the show having clearly been tearing up backstage, apologising for being an inconsistent absent parent, and i can't lie the "i had daddy issues and THEN i subscribed to dan howell" got me cause yeah no literally dude, you nailed it, exactly, well done. i think something about doing this show again, his magnum opus as he considers it, now after the dapg return was very special to him. he seems genuinely surprised that so many of us were ready to just jump back in like nothing happened, i don't think he was expecting so many people to still be waiting and it's... man. he comes off so grateful for us all and it's so fucking sweet. and then on the last night, i think that was my favourite, when the show ended and he got the standing ovation and people throwing him flowers.. he was so HAPPY. and clearly overwhelmed with emotion which, i gotta say, there is something honestly kinda funny about daniel howell standing in front of you trying not to cry. like no by all means dude go ahead, please, you've made me cry an endless amount of times it's only fair.

ugh. i'm proud of him or whatever. dick. and i'm proud of our ridiculous fucking community. i'm not sure what 14 year old nora would say if you'd told me i'd still be kicking it in the phandom a decade on, but at almost 25 (fml) i'm so so happy to be here still. you know, we get a bad rep, but i genuinely think as far as fanbases go we're pretty solid. and i love you all so much.

i believe i will have to rob a bank or something because the next time dan and/or phil do a tour i think i'll have to just show up at every date like i'm sorry but this was too good of a high we need to do it again immediately

anyway. back to work 💪

(by which i mean giffing dan and phil. i am still very much unemployed. fr though i'm two whole videos behind this has never happened i feel weird. who am i)

[andvys]

We’ll burn the sky | E.M.

Warnings: none yet, this is just the teaser!

Pairings: rockstar!Eddie Munson x rockstar!fem!reader

Summary: Eddie left his life in Hawkins behind to live the one he always dreamed about but there is a missing piece in his life and in his almost perfect band; you.

Author's note: Daisy Jones & the six inspired me to band au fic, so here we are. I hope you guys will like this! Also shoutout to @littledemondani thank you for helping me choose the title and for letting me rant about my ideas, you’re amazing

-

“They don’t want us.” 

“What?!” 

“They don’t want us! They don’t even want to record the album!” 

After months of pouring tears, blood and sweat into this album, their record label suddenly decided that the songs aren't good enough, that the band isn't good enough, that Eddie isn't good enough.

“We worked our asses off– what do you mean they don’t want us?!” Jeff cries, throwing his hands up as he follows Eddie, who almost ran into an old man on the sidewalk, quickly apologizing to him before he keeps on walking. 

“They said that we’re not good enough!” Eddie mumbles in annoyance, “told me to come back when we got something better to offer.”

“Not good enough? Sam loved our songs!” Gareth says as he looks at Eddie in confusion. 

“He did but apparently something is missing, the label refuses to record the album,” Eddie sighs as he halts in his tracks, placing his hands on his hips, he looks up at the blue sky and lets out a long sigh, “they said some.. some freshness is missing, whatever that is supposed to mean. Told me that there’s enough bands like ours out there already. They want something different, something new. It's too 'old fashioned'.”

Gareth stares at his best friend, shaking his head, he plops down on a bench, running his hand through his messy hair, “freshness?” he mumbles, furrowing his brows. 

Eddie clenches his jaw as he thinks of his conversation with their producer. 

‘You’re good, amazing even, your voice is great but there’s a missing piece.’

“Missing piece,” Eddie huffs, shaking his head, “he said that there’s a missing piece.” 

Jeffs stares at him, “like.. like what?” 

Eddie shrugs as the doubt begins to creep in. They all left their life in Hawkins behind, dropped everything to come out here to Los Angeles with the goal of becoming big, everyone laughed at them, told them that it would never work out, that their dreams are ridiculous but things went well, for a while. 

All four of them worked hard, they worked extra hours, saved up enough for money for them to last out here for a few months. Eddie wrote the song texts and they put all their blood and sweat into each song, hours and hours of rehearsals paid off and after a long search for a producer who was willing to work with them, they found Sam, who instantly took a liking to the boys, he gave them a chance, arranged some gigs for them before they were finally given the chance to make the album but suddenly, something is missing and they aren’t good enough anymore. 

“I don’t know, I think nothing is missing,” Gareth mumbles, “the band is perfect as it is.” 

Eddie sighs, “I don’t know.. maybe there is something missing,” he mumbles, eyes falling on the bar across the street, “I need a drink.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

-

They knock back one drink after the other, listening to the awful karaoke performances and making fun of all the singing drunk people, a distraction is what they all needed after the stressful past months and who knows, maybe they’ll find inspiration here, though Eddie doubts it. 

As entertaining as it is, Eddie can’t concentrate on it for too long. His mind goes back to the conversation with Sam. If he refuses to make the album then they can pack their things and go back home to Hawkins, pick up where they left off. Eddie would work at the garage again, Gareth and Jeff would try to get back into the community college there, Johnny would work with his dad again, they would give up their dreams and go back into a town they wanted to leave behind. 

Sure, Eddie has Wayne, all his friends and girlfriend there but Hawkins is a part of his past, something he doesn’t even want to go back to, not even for his loved ones. He is fine to go back for holidays or birthdays but that’s all. 

This is what he wants, he wants the band, he wants the concerts, the tours, the life he always dreamed of. 

But what choice does he have if the album won’t even get a chance? 

Fear fills him, anxiety takes hold of him and his hope begins to dwindle.

The music stops and only the loud chatter in the bar fills the room for a moment. Eddie stares down at his drink, ignoring the laughter of his friends. 

He downs the rest of his drink, running his hand through his messy curls, he leans back and turns to look at the stage to find a young girl reaching for the microphone. After all the old drunk men, the girl is the first female to sing tonight. He can’t see her face yet but he recognizes the band shirt, he has a similar one lying in his closet, somewhere. Clad in a short leather skirt and chunky boots, she already looks like she belongs on a stage but he doesn’t have much faith in her voice, after all, karaoke bars are just for drunk people who want to have fun, right? 

“Damn,” Gareth whistles, “she’s hot,” he says, staring at the girl. 

Jeff and Johnny chuckle but agree with him nonetheless. 

“Look at her, man,” he says to Eddie, who only shakes his head, “totally your type.” 

“I have a girlfriend,” Eddie mumbles, glaring at his friend. 

Gareth rolls his eyes, “whatever,” he mumbles, not even hiding his distaste for his best friend’s girlfriend. He never liked her and he never will. 

The One I Love by R.E.M starts playing and Eddie’s friends immediately start to bop their heads to the music. Staring at the girl with curious looks on their faces. Eddie chuckles at them, shaking his head. 

The smile falls from his lips and his eyes widen a little, both the lyrics and your voice catch his attention. He looks away from the awestruck expressions of his friends and turns to look at the singing girl, you. His breath hitches in his throat when he looks at you, truly looks at you. 

Your eyes are closed and you hold the mic tightly in one hand as you sing with the most beautiful voice he has ever heard, it’s soft yet husky and low; it’s just perfect. You look like you’re in your own little world, like only you exist. 

A girl in front of the stage whistles and you crack a smile as you open your eyes to look at her and the other girls around her who are no doubt your friends. 

Eddie’s heart makes a weird jump in his chest when you look his way as you sing. Eddie can’t help but stare at you, he is in awe. The way you sing, the way you hold yourself, the way your voice seems to get prettier and prettier to him.

He can’t tear his eyes away from you, you sing as though it’s the only thing you are meant to do, like this stage is meant for you and the people are here just for you. You own the stage, you own the heart of all the people watching you, you stole it with just your voice. 

“Holy shit,” Jeff mumbles, he stares at the way you move your body as you sing, “she’s a hot piece of ass.”

Eddie gives him a disapproving look but then his eyes widen when he looks back at you. 

Piece. A missing piece. 

This is the missing piece. 

Your voice. 

Eddie blinks as Sam’s words echo in his mind. 

He looks back at you, watching your performance in awe. He is impressed by the way you look and sound like a professional, like you are already a famous singer and how you seem to capture everyone’s attention in this room. 

Your performance is effortless, there is not a single pretentious thing about you, you are just a natural. You are a star, born to be one.

The people in this bar cheer for you, whistling and clapping even as you get off the stage and your friends embrace you. 

“You’re a star, baby!” one of your friends yells with a slur in her voice as she smacks her lips against your cheek. 

“Damn, I wanna kiss her too,” Jeff mumbles as he watches you with dreamy eyes. 

A smile tugs at Eddie’s lips as he stares at you, you blush and giggle as one of the drunk performers from before pretends to ask for an autograph. You wave him off with a chuckle before you make your way towards the bar. 

“That was one hell of a performance,” Gareth says with an impressed look on his face. 

“Yeah,” Jeff mumbles, “do you think that she’s maybe.. I don’t know, a singer already? We’re in L.A. after all, there’s plenty of singers we don’t know.” 

Johnny shrugs, “I don’t know–” he stops, raising his brows as he watches Eddie get up and walk away from his friends, “but we’re about to find out.” 

Gareth and Jeff follow his gaze to see him walking towards you. 

You smile at the bartender, thanking him after he takes your order. Your heart is still pounding in your chest from your little performance. It took you a lot of courage to sing in front of such a crowd, your friends did a good job at convincing you and cheering you on. You were nervous and anxious but the moment the music started and you began to sing, you forgot everything and everyone around you. 

You lean against the counter, smoothing down your skirt a little and brushing through your messy hair when someone comes up next to you. 

“Hi.” 

You raise your head and you feel as though you have been punched in your stomach, your breath is stolen away and goosebumps arise on your skin as you lock eyes with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you have ever seen in your life. 

He grins, showing off his pearly whites. He stretches his arm out, offering you his hand to shake, “I’m Eddie.” 

A small smile appears on your face, you take his hand, ignoring the way his touch seems to make your heart flutter in your chest. You tilt your head, squinting your eyes as you stare at him. You have seen him before, not up close but.. Oh! 

“Eddie,” you smile, “from Corroded Coffin, right?” 

His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up, “you know my band?” he asks, still not letting go of your hand. 

“Yes,” you say, licking your lips as you stare at the tattoos on his arm, “you played at the twilight zone last weekend, I was there with my friends. You’re good,” you smile, “amazing even.” 

Eddie blushes, smiling at your words, “thank you!” 

“You’re welcome,” you chuckle as you see the flushed cheeks. 

He finally pulls his hand back, laughing awkwardly, “uh so, I think you’re amazing, your voice is pretty– pretty fucking good!” 

You smile at him as you look into his pretty eyes, “you think so?” 

“Yeah, I totally think so,” he grins, “that’s uh– that’s why I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him but he can’t help but check you out. It isn’t just your voice that caught his attention it’s also– No, Eddie. Don’t go there, don’t go there. He looks away for a moment and takes a deep breath. 

“Do you do that for a living or something?” he asks, “I mean, singing.” 

You shake your head, “no..” you mumble.

He nods, trying not to stare at your lips as he looks back at you, “would you like to do that for a living?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks into your eyes, noticing the pretty color; his favorite color as he just realized.

You furrow your brows and shrug, “I mean, I would love to. I-I grew up with music. I sing and play bass."

Eddie raises his brows, “you play bass?” 

“Mhm.” 

Wow. 

Not only are you an excellent singer, you also play one of his favorite instruments.

“That’s.. that’s amazing!” 

You chuckle. Your eyes trail down to his hands, eying the many rings on his fingers. 

“So uh– you know, my band might be missing a member,” Eddie says as he takes a step closer to you, leaning his elbow against the counter, “and you are really talented so…” 

Normally, Eddie wouldn’t make an offer like that, he was content with the band and he wasn’t interested in having any new band members— especially another singer but he is desperate and his chances of becoming a rockstar are getting smaller every day but something tells him that you and your voice are the key to success— hopefully.

You blink in surprise, “you’re looking for another band member?” 

He shrugs, sighing, “we weren’t looking but apparently something about our music is not good enough and the label is about to drop us. We need something new.. something that might make our music better— don’t get me wrong, I think it’s good already but apparently not everyone thinks so.”

A smirk appears on your face, “oh, so… you want me to save your band?” 

He rolls his eyes playfully, giving you a coy smile, “I guess?” 

“Aren’t you a heavy metal band?” you ask, skeptically, “I do rock music, not heavy metal.” 

“I mean, we lean more towards rock right now, so..” he says, shrugging.

You raise your brows, crossing your arms over your chest, you shrug, “I don’t know, what am I gonna be? A background singer?” you ask, “background bass player? I’m not interested in being in your shadow.” 

“No…. we just need another singer.” 

“The lead singer wants another singer?” you ask in confusion, “who would want that?” you chuckle, shaking your head. 

“I want that,” he shrugs, “I play guitar and I sing so I have no problem with sharing the spotlight.” 

“Really?” you laugh, “you don’t mind sharing the spotlight, why is that so hard to believe?” 

He chuckles, “listen Sweetheart, I would never ever make an offer like this to just anyone but I’m really desperate here, I really want to make this album and I’m willing to add another singer to the mix, your voice is fucking beautiful and something tells me that you could.. make things better so… are you interested in joining the best band in the world?” 

The smile on your face gives him the answer he was hoping for. And just like that, his confidence is back.

This isn’t over yet, not for him and not for the band.

Corroded Coffin is gonna go big and Eddie’s dreams will come true, he just knows it, he can see it, in your eyes.

-

[marmie-noir]

The Gang goes to a Gala

Gif credit: @stannyramirez (also reblogged, they are doing the ENTIRE second season so far as gifs and OH MY GAWD. Also shoutout to @little-earthquakes-rp for making sure I saw this amazing creator)

Warnings: Bad editing, the usual. I had a specific picture of a dress for Sunny but you can imagine whatever you want. Linking it feels very Wattpad XD.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, vibrating signaling I had a call. I put down the washcloth, swiping to answer when I saw it was Mitch. “Hey handsome.” “Hey Sunshine.” He sounded good, even over the phone, and I couldn’t help but smile as I finished wiping the table off before moving to the next one, free hand holding my phone. “You busy?” “Well you are my boss, I suppose that is a question for you. Am I busy?” I teased, slipping behind the bar to dunk the washrag in the sanitizer, drying my hands off. 

Mitch laughed, that rumble that had me preening, smiling like a fool behind the bar as I glanced around, glancing at the few tables that were in for some midday gambling and some food. Certainly wasn’t busy and really I was just filling my time knowing that Mitch was busy today. “I suppose not. Tell you what,” He started, background sounds making me wonder what he was up to. “Why don’t you grab Ann and go out? You need a dress.” “A dress?” “Mhm. A nice one. A gala dress.” I let out a laugh this time. “Mitch Keller, why on earth would I need a gala dress?” 

“Well, darlin’, cause we are going to a gala tonight.” 

That had me leaning on the bar, glancing around to make sure no one was lingering around. The bar was fairly empty except an older man near the end, a table off to the side had a couple, and the casino had a few stragglers as well but they were being taken care of by the casino staff Dwight and Mitch had hired. “Forgive me, but I must have misheard you. Didn’t Dwight just get arrested? And we are going to a gala? For what?” 

Mitch made that amused sound, the one that I knew vibrated from his chest like a hum when I did something he found either funny or cute. “That is right, and he just got out. And was invited to a gala. So stop asking so many questions and let me get dressed up with my girl.” I contemplated for a moment. The idea of dressing up with Mitch, sipping on expensive drinks and spending some time with our friends. After the night we had last night I wouldn’t mind relaxing a bit. “I’d need Ann’s help.” “Naturally.” 

“Is there a theme?” “No idea.” That had a small laugh bubbling past my lips because of course he didn’t know, he just was excited to go. “Alright. Fine. I’m convinced. Will I see you beforehand?” “Ah, no. I’ve got some things to do before the party, but I’ll meet you there?”

“Sounds good, handsome. See you tonight.” 

I had been picked up by Dwight and Michael, who I was still refusing to call Bigfoot. Yes, he was a mountain of a man, but he was also Mitch’s cousin and Bigfoot just sounded ridiculous. I didn’t plan to vocalize it, I’d just smile and nod if he told others to call him that, but he was practically my family in a way and Michael wasn’t a bad name. He was also surprisingly sweet and considerate, especially after we parked and he left the driver’s seat to open the back door and offer an arm for support. 

I accepted the help happily, not wanting to flash anyone getting out of the vehicle in a dress, as well as have a moment to steady myself in heels. I wasn’t horrible in them, but I didn’t wear them often so it took me a moment to adjust. The dress I picked out was pretty and I liked it more than I thought I would. I had gone to a few different stores with Ann trying to find something to wear and we’d settled on this black dress, the style a classic black dress but with a thigh slit and only one arm. It left my other shoulder and arm bare and the thigh slit showed a bit of skin without being scandalous or get in the way of walking like a few of the other dresses had. Ann had twisted my hair into an updo, leaving my collarbone and back exposed, a few bits of simple jewelry on my skin but nothing too flashy. I didn’t really have much in terms of jewelry beyond a pair of diamond earrings from my grandmother and a necklace Mitch had gotten me a few months ago as a surprise. 

“So, what is this gala for anyway?” I asked, smoothing my skirt before slipping my hand into Michael’s offered arm and looking to where Dwight had walked around the front of the car, lighting up a cigar and waiting for us. We began to move down the driveway, oddly away from the house before I saw a familiar van. So everyone else was outside still, probably waiting for Dwight. “No idea.” He said with a small half shrug, unbothered. “Just enjoy yourself tonight, Sunny. Have a few drinks, dance a little. I heard you pulled it together after I got carted away. You deserve a little fun, don’t you think?” 

I let out a small sigh through my nose but didn’t say anything, my heels clicking against the asphalt of the driveway as we drew closer to the van. I was busy glancing down at my dress to make sure that it was sitting correctly and hadn’t shifted on the drive over, I didn’t even notice someone had rushed up to us. Arms wrapped me up in a hug and a familiar cologne filled my nose, making me let out a small laugh and release Michael’s arm to wrap my own around Tyson. “You look money, lady.” He said, pulling back to grin at me. Before I could return the compliment he leaned in slightly, tone dropping. “Tell him he looks good, he’s been preening all afternoon, stressin’ about what you are going to say.” 

My brows knit together in confusion but he simply gave me another smile and stepped aside. Mitch was there, not so patiently waiting for Tyson to move so he could take the space, hands immediately on my hips. “Look. At. You.” He breathed out, bright blue eyes sliding up and down my form, not yet pulling me into a hug so he could look his fill. I rested my hands on his biceps, busy taking him in too. And damn if he didn’t look far too good, all dressed up in a black suit with a red patterned undershirt, the top few buttons undone to show a little chest and his necklace. But the most prominent change was his hair. “Look at me? Look at you!” I said with a grin, reaching up to slide my fingers through his hair. It looked good, the sides cut short and the top left longer, fluffed up and styled in a way that looked effortless but I knew couldn’t be. Mitch hesitated, clearly having forgotten his own appearance upon seeing me. It was cute, and I couldn’t deny it made me a little proud I could still distract the man. “Do you like it?” While he didn’t sound unsure exactly I knew Mitch enough to understand he was genuinely a little worried about my opinion on the change to his appearance. That had my chest warming up a little bit, the fuzzy feeling of raw adoration for this man softening my expression. “Yeah, baby. It looks good, you look really good. That suit too.” I told him, reaching out to adjust his jacket. My fingers slid under the blazer for a moment, feeling the expensive fabric of his shirt and the warmth of his skin underneath. “Makes me wanna ditch this party and drag you home.” That had Mitch lighting up, pulling me closer by my hips, his head ducking to look down at me. “Well we should stay for a drink. It’s only polite.” He teased. He leaned in, lips brushing mine gently enough, mindful of my make up, before someone cleared their throat. He pulled back and I grinned, leaning around him to spot the others leaning against the van, clearly not in the most patient mood. “Aw, Bohdie! Don’t be jealous, you look very nice.” I teased as Mitch shifted, moving to stand beside me with an arm around my middle. “Yeah yeah, can we go inside?” The grumpy tech guru muttered, looking away with an almost pouty expression. 

“Armand isn’t even here yet. Oh, Fred, you look good too!” I complimented the other man, earning a smile and a little nod of his head as he stood a little taller, straightening his jacket. Really all of them looked good, it wasn’t empty compliments to friends. We all cleaned up pretty good. “Speaking of, where is-” The crunch of a bumper had me jumping slightly, Mitch’s hand on my hip giving me a small reassuring squeeze as we all looked over to see an obviously intoxicated Armand stumble out of the offending vehicle, having rear-ended a parked car. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I whispered, not believing this. I knew he was going through some things but to show up drunk, here of all places? Mitch didn’t comment but just gave my hip another small squeeze, watching on as Dwight stepped forward to smooth out the issue with the valet. 

“Alright.” Dwight said, clapping his hands, smoking cigar bobbing between his lips. “I need you all to be on good behavior. There are a lot of high-level people with high-level money here tonight. I’m gonna work on meeting Thresher, you all rub some elbows and be polite to anyone who looks interesting.” “Who the fuck is Thresher?” Tyson asked. I’d never heard of the name before so I was curious too. “Thresher is who we wanna be. He runs the oil business, and he is the largest weed distributor in Oklahoma.” Dwight answered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “That is one guy we want to be friends with. Now let’s go.” It prompted Bohdie, Tyson, and Fred to push off the side of the van. 

We all walked up the long drive, my hand resting on the crook of Mitch’s elbow, a little in awe at the sprawling estate. The house was huge, the lights nearly twinkling, and I couldn't imagine having so much space. The inside of the home was just as opulent as the outside. Staff wove between dolled up women and cleaned up men with trays of food and fresh drinks. 

I was instantly relieved to see I wasn't over dressed, relaxing a little more as the group of us hesitated in the entryway. Not that I particularly wanted to come to more of these things but it didn't feel bad getting all done up and having the arm of my mighty fine looking man. He had the top buttons of his shirt undone, hand sliding through his hair as if still getting used to it. 

“It looks good, hot stuff.” I reassured with a smile, leaning into his side. He smiled back at me, relaxing a bit more, arm moving around my middle to keep me pressed close in the bustling gala. 

“Alright,” Dwight spoke, turning to face us. “Go have some drinks and food. Have fun.” He ordered, waving us off. 

I was all too happy to have Mitch lead us away from the entrance with Bohdie trailing behind, the three of us intent on finding a few drinks. I ended up with a delicate flute of champagne, sipping on the bubbly as I glanced around the home. Things like this just seemed so old money, familiar people and families rubbing elbows, not used to newcomers. We had gotten some appraising looks but no one had approached yet. 

“Would you ever want to live in a house like this?” Mitch asked, still at my side as he sipped his drink. 

I hummed, thinking it over with another sip of my sweet drink. “I don't think so. It feels like… like too much. Too much house to a few people. It would get lonely.” I liked that I could smell when Mitch put the coffee on, hear pops yelling at the game in the living room, the taps of Scruff’s nails on the tile. All those things made the house a home, and if our space was too large I think I would get lost in the halls. 

“How did Dwight even hear about this?” I asked the men. 

“The lady that boards Dwight’s horse. She is apparently some bigshot in the charity world.” 

Bohdie made an amused sound into his glass. “That is putting it lightly. She has deep pockets, knows a lot of important people.” His voice was low, eyes scanning over the crowds of the rich and wealthy. “Lot of people like that here. Important people with a lot of money.” 

I wasn't surprised Bohdi knew, I knew he was really into tech so I assumed he went electronically snooping. A lot of that was over my head but I was curious if he has looked into all of us. And if so, what he has found. 

“So what I am hearing is that these are not our kind of people.” Mitch commented lowly, his hand flexing on my hip, his other still holding his drink. Bohdie hummed confirmation and I rolled my shoulders to try and dispel some of the tension, unsure what to do. 

“How is the new shop coming along? Grace told me the space is amazing.” I changed the subject, looking back at Bohdie. I hadn't had a chance to stop by and look into it but Grace and I kept in contact. I kind of wish she was here right now, wanting a little more girl power on our side. 

��Good, it is good. Fairly central so we should see an uptick in foot traffic. I actually was wondering if you would be free to swing by, Grace mentioned wanting your opinion on somethings.” 

“Only if there is more of that apricot jam.” Mitch cut in with a grin, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of my gown at my hip. I felt my cheeks heat up, glancing away with a sip of my drink. The last time I had that jam had been on the back porch and it had lead to a bit more than a simple bedtime snack. 

Mitch’s chest rumbled in a low chuckle at seeing my reaction. Before he could tease me Tyson came back to us, an odd look on his face. 

“What?” I asked, brow quirking. 

“They are serving pidgeon.” 

“Okay?” I said, confused. Rich people seemed to enjoy eating small birds so that didn't sound so weird. 

“And cicada.” 

“Like… locusts?” I clarified, concerned now. 

“Uh- yeah.” Tyson said, thankful that I was finally on his side of rich people, weird food. 

“I gotta see this.” I said, releasing Mitch. Tyson shrugged, offering me his arm to be polite, and I accepted it with a little wave to Mitch as our friend led me further into the party. We wove through little clusters of guests, all the glitz and glamor distracting. 

“Bohdie said big money was here. You think Dwight is trying to expand more?” I asked, voice low. Tyson might know something I didn't as his driver after all. 

“Not sure, nothing concrete. But you know how the boss is, always a plan.” 

That is what I was afraid of. Men like Dwight were capable of amazing things, but enough was never enough. He wasn't even my boss. Mitch was, and Mitch was his partner and the underboss. Not that I really knew what that was but Dwight had been sure to communicate that so it must be important. 

I didn't vocalize my worry. Tyson worshiped the ground the older man walked on. I had faith in Dwight myself but not the blind faith these men seemed to put in him. 

The pidgeons were easy to spot, the cicadas less so. I glanced at the large table laden with food, eyes lingering at the pile of brownish goo in a beautiful crystal dish. “No.” I whispered, looking up at Tyson. 

“Yep.” He answered, the two of us skillfully avoiding the eye contact of the server. We peeled away from the table, stepping into a side room. I went to take another sip of my drink but found it empty, frowning at it. “I will get you another one, hang here.” Tyson said, smiling at my expression and leaving me at the small table. 

I busied myself, hands smoothing down my dress to ensure it was still sitting correctly. It fit perfectly but I was a little anxious, not wanting it to shift and make me look foolish in such a public place. 

“You look stunning.” A voice interrupted my subtle hands and I glanced over, the voice unfamiliar. A tall, handsome man stood there in a dark blue suit, one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around a crystal tumbler of booze. He has blonde hair, more dirty blonde, falling slightly across his forehead, eyes so dark blue they were almost black in the low lighting of the party. 

“Oh, thank you.” I said politely, smiling at the stranger. 

He held a hand out, drink set down at my table. “Aiden. I don't believe I have seen you at one of these events before?” 

“Sunny.” I greeted back, giving his hand a small shake. “And that would make sense, it is my first.” 

“Well you fit right in.” He said, grin going up a mega-watt, the toothpaste commercial perfect smile I was sure won him lots of hearts. I gave a small nod in thanks, not wanting to stir up problems by being rude. “Are you part of a corporation or here independently?” 

What a good question. “Oh, I was invited by a friend.” I said, unsure what the correct answer was exactly. Something about this man had me a little on edge, like being near a dog you were sure was friendly. He was handsome, charming, but that didn't mean he was safe. 

“A friend? Who are they, maybe I know them?” He asked, voice dropping an octave as he leaned in. 

Tyson appeared at my side then and I felt relief, flashing him a smile. “Tyson, just in time. This is Aiden.” I introduced. 

Tyson looked at the other man, handing me my drink with a small nod, hand extended. They shook hands, Aiden’s smile dimming a bit with the company. 

“Anyway, we should probably get back to our group. It was so nice meeting you Aiden.” I said, slapping on my charming smile. I leaned in, free hand hugging him quickly before pulling back and taking Tyson’s arm. 

He seemed surprised at the touch but not off put by it, one hand settling on my lower back a moment before righting himself with a small nod. “You as well. Hope to see you at the next event.” 

“We’ll see. Take care.” I said, squeezing Tyson’s arm as he got the hint and led me away. He seemed a bit stiff but I didn't comment on it, pulling him around the corner and out of sight. I didn't say anything until we found a private little nook. 

When we stopped I set down my drink on the ledge, producing a dark leather wallet. “Thank god.” Tyson sighed in relief, shoulders slumping slightly. “You scared me there Sunny.” 

I raised a brow in question, opening the wallet and snooping in the contents. “Did you think I was getting fresh with a rich stranger?” I teased, lips curling into a little amused smile. I pulled my phone out, snapping a few pictures of his ID, as well as a few scribbled notes tucked away next to the crisp hundreds. 

“I had no idea you were pulling a James Bond, I was terrified I would have to tell Mitch you were getting fresh with another guy.” 

I glanced up from the ID of one Aiden Michael Thresher, meeting Tyson’s dark eyes. “You would tattle on me?” I questioned. I had no intention of cheating on Mitch but hadn't thought about how others would react if I did, the interpersonal loyalty between us all a bit convoluted. “Not very bestie of you, Ty.” 

“Hey now, don't do me like that.” He said, hand pressing to his chest. He looked almost as though he was pouting, adjusting his jacket next. “I would tell you if I thought Mitch wasn't acting right.” 

“Even though he is an underboss?” I asked quietly. I dropped the wallet, giving it a little kick with the heel of my toe. It slid easily across the floor, stopping near a table. I smoothed a hand over my hair before grabbing my drink, reaching to take Tysons arm again. 

He offered it willingly, looking down at me with a stubborn set to his brow. “You my ride or die, Sunny. Can't forget that.” I hummed, giving his arm a little squeeze with a smile. After the shoot out we were a lot closer and I wasn't going to forget that either. “What you do that for anyway?” 

“He just- he felt weird. I want Bohdie to look into him. And his last name is Thresher, think it is the one Dwight was talking about?” 

“No idea.” Tyson admitted, leading me back to Mitch and Bohdie. 

Sunny and Mitch masterlist here

My lovely taglist: @beepage, @itspdameronthings, @queenslandlover-93, @triplefrontierbabe, @nebulastarr

If you want to be part of the tag list it is here.

[superhaught]

Angel in the Snow

Pairing: Reneé Rapp & Reader (platonic)

Warnings: drug use, drug-induced unconsciousness, overdose, refers to sexual assault, mention of blood, emergency room examination, angst, hurt-comfort

Word Count: 2950, Part 1/?

Note from Author:

! This is an AU where reader finds Reneé before she loses 7 hours of her life that night. There is difficult subject matter here so please read at your own discretion. !

Big shoutout to @fanofthings20 who beta-read this piece for me, thank you so much!

If this is missing any necessary warnings or tags please let me know!

Finally, carry Narcan/Naloxone!

Reneé is reader's best friend. Reneé is partying a lot and one night, Reneé is unaccounted for. Reader looks for and helps her friend. Based on the events that "Snow Angel" is about.

No one knew where she was, and you were the only one who seemed to care. Everyone was annoyed that you were even asking. 

“You’re freaking out over nothing, I’m sure she just left.”

But you didn’t feel like it was nothing. There was a feeling in your gut that said otherwise. Reneé had disappeared from the group over an hour ago. Your best friend in the world was nowhere to be found and all of these assholes were more concerned about maintaining their buzz than her well-being. 

You sent her a third text asking if she was okay that got left on delivered.

You never felt that it was your place to stand in the way of Reneé having fun and enjoying herself, but you were worried about her. More than worried… you were scared for her. 

Lately, you had felt like she was pushing the limits of what she could handle, sustaining herself on parties and substances and hook ups. You knew that she was trying to escape something, you just didn’t know what. You would have given anything for her to just let you in. 

One week prior, you went out on a limb and tried to talk to her about it. She got mad. Madder than you’d ever seen her. 

“I’m done with this conversation,” she asserted.

“Reneé, please, I’m just trying to help…”

“Well, you’re not. You’re just being fucking annoying.”

She told you to leave her alone, but you couldn’t leave her alone. Especially not now. Not when she had her finger on the self-destruct button. 

You weren’t invited to this party but you knew she was going to be there with some guy and his friends and you just didn’t trust him. So you showed up and found the group she was supposed to be with, but Reneé and her date weren’t with them. 

“Fuck you all,” you said as you stormed off and started asking for help from the bartenders and bouncers. You showed a picture of her to various club staff and none of them really recognized her or knew where she might be.

No one was taking you seriously and you started to doubt yourself. Maybe you were being insane. Reneé is an adult and the fact that you were trying to track her down when she didn’t even want you here was pretty crazy of you. She probably did just leave with the guy to hook up.

But then you shook your head. No. You’d rather be anxious and find out that nothing was wrong after all than let something happen to her. If she was drunk or high, she could be taken advantage of and you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t do everything you could.

You tried calling her. You let it ring until it went to voicemail, “Hey it’s Reneé, leave a message.” You felt sick to your stomach. Even if she was mad at you, Reneé would never not pick up a call from you if she could help it. 

You did another lap of the dancefloor and still didn’t see the blonde. You started to check the club bathrooms, shouting her name and getting a lot of weird looks but not getting any closer to finding her. So you started to get more creative. You left the club area in favor of searching the hotel that housed it. The main lobby was fairly empty and quiet. 

You rushed up to the worker at the front desk and showed Reneé’s picture to her, “please, I’m looking for my friend, I think she could be in trouble, have you seen her?”

The woman sighed and pulled her glasses down from the top of her head to examine your phone. She squinted her eyes as she took the phone from your hand to look at it closer. Your body trembled anxiously as you waited. 

“You know what,” the woman began, “she does look familiar. I think I saw a blonde girl like her go into the restroom here a while ago. She came from the club and there was a young man with her. She didn’t look well.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” You took your phone back and sprinted to the bathroom she pointed to. The bathroom door flew open at the push of your arm and your worst fears were confirmed at what you found in the bathroom. 

Reneé was unconscious on the bathroom floor, curled up in one of the stalls. 

“No… no no no!” You fell to your knees at her side and grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Reneé didn’t respond. You leaned down and felt that she was breathing, just really slowly. 

You shook her again and touched her face. She was cold and clammy. Her makeup had run down her cheeks. There was blood on her pants. You couldn’t think about what might have happened, yet, you just needed to help her. 

You knew she’d kill you if you called 911 but you didn’t fucking care so you did. You punched 911 into your phone with shaking hands and then put it on speaker and set it down on the floor.

“Nine one one what is the location of your emergency?”

You didn’t realize that you were sobbing until you spoke to give the operator the address of the hotel. 

“Okay hun, I’ve got your location, take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s my friend, she’s unresponsive. I think she might be overdosing or maybe she was roofied, I don’t know what to do! Should I give her Narcan?” 

“Yes, do you have Narcan available to you right now?” 

“Yes, I do.” You opened your bag and took your Narcan kit out. You thanked your lucky stars that you thought ahead to bring it with you.

“Great yes go ahead and administer the Narcan. Paramedics are on their way to you now. Have you ever administered Narcan before?” 

“No, ma’am.” 

The 911 operator started talking you through the steps and you ripped open the package and put the tip of the sprayer into one side of Reneé’s nose and depressed it to administer the medication. 

You waited for a few seconds, caressing Reneé’s cheek gently and saying her name out loud, waiting with baited breath for her to respond. Suddenly, Reneé inhaled a deep breath and her eyes flew open. 

“Oh my god! Nae!” 

Reneé looked all around her in a panic and then finally found your eyes. She gripped your arms with white knuckles. 

“It’s me, Nae. It’s me… you’re safe, I’ve got you… it’s okay…” you spoke to her through tears.

Reneé didn’t say anything in response, she just stared at you with wide eyes. 

The 911 operator spoke from the phone, “is she responsive, now?” 

“Yes, yes, she’s awake.” You sobbed. 

“Okay the ambulance is almost there, stay put for the paramedics okay? I’ll stay on the line with you. Can you get your friend in the recovery position, do you know that?” 

“Yes,” you replied, “Reneé, I need to roll you onto your side, okay?” 

Reneé was just terrified and slow to process anything but she let you adjust her onto her side with her arm under her head. 

You leaned over her and wrapped your arms around her. You whispered to her, “it’s okay, help is almost here. And I’ve got you… you’re gonna be okay, Reneé… I’ve got you…” 

Reneé coughed and started crying as she grasped onto your hand tightly, lacing her fingers with yours, “how… how… did you… know…?” 

“I just knew… I knew you needed me…” 

“I’m so… sorry…” 

“Shhhh… shhh… stop…” your own tears fell onto her shoulder and you rubbed your thumb over hers, “that doesn’t matter…” 

“I… I… I fucked up…” 

“It’s going to be okay…”

The next hour was a whirlwind. You stayed at Reneé’s side the entire time while the paramedics came and checked on her in the hotel bathroom. Then they got her onto a stretcher and brought her into the ambulance. You held her hand the whole time. 

You were there as Reneé got checked into the hospital ER. She was asked a million questions that she struggled to answer, not remembering much of anything from her night. Reneé kept looking over at you with panic in her eyes. 

“It’s okay, just do your best,” you whispered.

The ER nurse took her vitals, drew blood, gave her fluids through an IV, and had Reneé provide a urine sample. Then, she left the two of you alone in a sterile exam room to wait.

Reneé’s mind and body were exhausted. She had dark circles under her eyes. Her lips were dry. She shivered and trembled in the uncomfortable hospital bed. But she held on tightly to your hand like it was her lifeline.

You squeezed her hand back and smiled softly, “I’m here,” you’d say, “I’ve got you.” 

She nodded and tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. You reached out and wiped them away with the thumb of your free hand, “it’s gonna be alright.” 

Reneé leaned into your touch and closed her eyes.

“Reneé,” you whispered, “I want to leave the choice up to you, do you want me to call your parents?” 

She shook her head, “please, don’t… not yet… I don’t want them to freak out and get on a plane… I’ll tell them… when I’m ready… I promise…” 

You nod your head, “okay, Nae. If that’s what you want.” 

“Thank you…” she sniffled.

You leaned forward and lightly kissed the back of her hand.

“I wish you weren’t seeing me like this…” she mumbled.

“Don’t even worry about that, Nae.”

She frowned and went quiet for a moment, then whispered, “if you hadn’t found me…”

“Shh… don’t go there…”

 “I’ve been such an idiot. I should have listened to you…”

“You’re not an idiot, Reneé.” 

“I thought I could make it go away…” 

“I don’t understand… make what go away?” 

Reneé stared at you for a moment, debating whether or not to say what was on her mind. You squeezed her hand again and gave her a pleading expression.

But before Reneé could speak, there was a knock on the door and it began to open. Reneé closed her mouth, let go of your hand and directed her attention to the door. 

A doctor and a police officer came into the room together and shut the door. Reneé’s eyes widened. The doctor sat down on a rolling stool and explained what they knew so far. She had a high blood alcohol level, and an intense cocktail of drugs in her system, which included weed, cocaine and ketamine. 

The doctor continued and asked Reneé if she would be willing to undergo a sexual assault examination.

To your shock, Reneé adamantly shook her head. 

“No… no, I don’t want to do that,” she said. 

“Are you absolutely sure?” The doctor asked. 

“I’m sure… I just want this to be over.” 

The doctor nodded slowly, “it’s your choice. If you change your mind, just let someone know, but the sooner it’s done, the more likely it is we will find actionable results. For now, though, this officer has some questions for you and then I’ll have a nurse come back in to discuss some rehabilitation options with you, alright?”

Reneé nodded. The doctor stood up and left the room. You met Reneé’s eyes and repeated the doctor’s question, “Nae, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she snapped. 

The officer then pulled out a notebook and began asking Reneé questions about her night. Who she was with, who had the drugs, where did they get them, what she remembered leading up to going to the hotel bathroom…

Reneé maintained that she didn’t remember much of the night. She didn’t know how anyone got the drugs. She didn’t know if she was alone when she went to the bathroom or not. She didn’t know what happened to the guy that she was with. 

You sat beside her and listened to the conversation. The more questions she was asked, the more emotional Reneé became. She started to cry and you just caressed her arm until the officer was finally satisfied and left. 

Over the next hour, a nurse came in and gave Reneé some brochures for drug rehabilitation programs and then took her vitals one last time before discharging her. 

You left the hospital and called an Uber. Reneé gently took your phone from you and added a stop to the ride and then handed your phone back to you. 

You looked at what she added, “a CVS? What for?”

“I have to get something.”

“Okay.”

The car pulled up and you got inside. You thought of asking her to finish what she was saying before the doctor interrupted but inside, you rode in silence. The driver parked at the pharmacy and Reneé moved to get out of the car.

“Want me to come with?”

“No, stay here,” she instructed. 

You waited in the car while Reneé ran into the pharmacy. She was back no more than five minutes later with a small bag. 

The driver continued on and finally dropped you both off at your apartment, which was Reneé’s request. You unlocked your apartment door and she went inside and went straight to your kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. 

She reached into her bag from the CVS and then looked at you with a serious expression, “I don’t want to talk about this, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything in response. 

Reneé pulled a Plan B package out of the pharmacy bag and your heart sunk. She opened it and briefly skimmed the instructions on the packaging and then took the pill and drank the whole glass of water. 

“Nae…”

“Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything… I’m just… sorry.”

She sighed, “you didn’t do anything worth apologizing for.”

“I’m sorry that this happened. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.”

“You were there. You did everything you could’ve.” She stared for a long moment at her own hands planted on your kitchen counter, “I’m exhausted…”

“I’ll get you some clothes to wear to bed.” 

Reneé nodded her head.

Before going to your bedroom you slowly approached her and held your arms out. She looked at you out of the corner of her eye and then suddenly turned and collapsed into your offer of a hug. She grasped you tightly, squeezing the fabric of your shirt in her fists and she sobbed. The floodgates burst open and the woman bawled into the crook of your neck with unprecedented force. 

You must’ve held her like that for twenty minutes. Eventually, you dropped your hands from her back to her thighs and you lifted her up in your arms for her to koala around your front, wrapping her legs around your hips and keeping her face buried against your shoulder.

You carried her carefully down the hall to your bedroom and set her gently down on the edge of your bed. 

You went to step away to grab clothes for her to change into but she held onto you, “Wait…”

“Okay, alright… I’m here,” you assured. You sat down beside her on the bed and she leaned against you.

“D-don’t leave,” her voice cracked as she spoke, “I don’t want to be alone tonight…”

“I won’t leave, Nae. I’m right here.”

There was another long period of silence where she just leaned against you and closed her eyes while you rubbed her back. She finally let you get up to grab clothes for her and then she asked for your help to change. 

You gently helped her out of her party clothes which bore the evidence of whatever it was that she had gone through and she put on one of your oversized t-shirts and a pair of your plaid boxers that you often wore to bed. 

After that, you tucked her into bed and she reached for your hand, “please, stay with me.”

You held her hand, “I’ll stay. I promise.”

“Will you hold me?”

You nodded, “of course.”

You crawled into the bed behind her and wrapped yourself around her in a protective embrace. She held your hands tightly in hers and clutched them against her chest. You could tell that she was trying to match the pace of your breathing. 

“It’s okay…” you whispered, “I’ve got you…”

You didn’t want to be having the thoughts that you were having. You didn’t want to be thinking about how her hair smelled or how her skin felt or how much you’ve always wanted to cuddle her like this in your bed or how she looked wearing your clothes. It wasn’t right for you to be thinking about those things when she was having the hardest night of her life. You just needed to be a good friend right now.

Reneé shivered and whispered into the darkness, breathing your name gently. 

“Yeah?”

“I…” she began.

You waited for her to continue. You held your breath, not knowing, but hoping against all hope that she would finish that sentence.

“I…” she tried again, “... thank you.”

“Oh… yeah, you’re welcome… of course.” You squeezed her hand once more, unsure whether the squeeze was your way of saying it’s okay, I love you or goddammit please just say it or I’ll wait for as long as you need me to. Maybe it was all of the above. Maybe it was just goodnight. 

Either way, Reneé returned the squeeze with three pulses and then she fell asleep in your arms.

[foxy-eva]

Waltz with Me

Summary: When Reader is sad that she won’t be getting a New Year’s kiss, Spencer is there to save the night

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warnings: a little bit of ‘end of the year’-melancholy

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Comfort Fic Writing Challenge! Shoutout to Pom for helping me come up with this blurb (and for being my friend ❤️)

Word count: 1k

Masterlist

What a year for a new year. 

As I watched most of my friends pairing up to get ready to kiss their loved ones at midnight, I took a deep breath and walked over to the window to look at some stray fireworks that made their way to the sky early. 

Soon I would be able to leave the old year behind me. 

It surprised me every New Year’s Eve how it could be that days always seemed endless but the years were so short in comparison. There was not enough time for me to find someone I could kiss tonight, so instead I decided to linger by the window until the clock would strike midnight. 

Five more minutes until the new year. 

Noticing timid footsteps approaching me, I turned around to find Spencer looking at me with a worried look. 

“You okay?”

Smiling at him, I nodded and lied, “Sure.”

He raised one eyebrow at me and chuckled, “Very convincing.” 

His eyes left mine to look at the fireworks for a moment. He stood close enough for me to sense the heat radiating from his body and I instantly felt soothed by his presence. 

“In all honesty, I’m a little annoyed that I wasted another year,” I sighed. 

Spencer locked eyes with me and wondered, “What do you mean? You accomplished so much, for example you– “

“ –don’t have anyone to kiss at midnight.” I interrupted him. 

“Ah,” he said. “That’s what you mean.”

I shrugged and looked out the window again. “It’s a stupid tradition anyway.”

“Yeah, it’s rather unlikely that not being kissed at midnight would determine an entire year of loneliness like ancient Romans believed.” 

This time it was me who met his look with raised eyebrows, asking, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“If you choose to believe in superstitions I’d suggest looking into nicer ones. Austrians for example have a tradition to waltz at midnight. They gather up to cheerily dance into the new year, believing that starting it that way will bring them happiness,” he explained. 

My eyes widened at his words and a smile spread over my face. 

“Spencer, now you have to waltz with me!” I giggled as I reached for his hands. 

He pulled back and shook his head. “What? No! I don’t know how to dance.” 

“Come on, how hard can it be to waltz?”

I noticed how everyone around us started counting down numbers, a clear sign that midnight was approaching. Spencer realized that too, looking at our friends before locking eyes with me again. He stepped closer to me and placed his right hand on my waist and his left hand in my palm. 

“Your left hand needs to be on my shoulder,” he told me right before the clock struck midnight. 

And then we did it – sort of. Clumsily Spencer attempted to take the lead as we started swaying from side to side. Right when I wanted to point out that this is not what a waltz is supposed to look like, he took the first step forward, making me step back. We stumbled over each other’s feet and I kept crashing into his chest whenever he tried to get back into the motion. 

There was no way for me to stop the fit of laughter falling from my lips. 

Spencer, however, seemed very determined to do this right when he complained, “The noise of the fireworks doesn’t fit the three-quarter time of the waltz at all! How am I supposed to do this right?!” 

“This is supposed to be joyful, remember?” I snickered. 

Slowly but surely we found the right pace to dance with each other. Our motions weren’t completely right and I’m sure we didn’t look graceful at all, but waltzing with Spencer made me really, really happy. I kept my eyes on him, noticing how the crease between his eyebrows slowly disappeared and a hint of a smile became visible on his face. 

“So,” I tried to start a conversation, “Any plans for the new year?” 

“I want to take dancing lessons so I’ll do this right next time,” he joked. 

The prospect of dancing with Spencer again some time made my heart jump and I felt a comforting warmth spreading through my chest. 

“Great idea,” I agreed. “You really aren’t that good at this.”

“I considered my other options to cheer you up but I’m even worse at kissing.”

His statement made me laugh again. “I really doubt that.” 

A moment of comfortable silence followed as we slowed down our motions until we were only swaying from side to side. I noticed how his sight dropped from my eyes to my lips for a split second as if he considered proving to me what he just claimed. 

“What about you?” he asked instead. “Any resolutions for the new year?”

“Just one,” I told him. “I want to grow a couple of inches.” 

“And why is that?” He wondered. 

“So I don’t have to stand on my tiptoes to find out if you really are bad at kissing.”

A lovely rosy shade spread over Spencer’s cheeks at my words and his lips slightly parted, almost inviting me to do what I just announced. My left hand wandered from his shoulder to the nape of his neck and I noticed how his grip on my waist tightened as he pulled me closer until our bodies touched. 

He leaned down and I stood on my tiptoes so our lips could meet, timidly brushing over one another. It was short and sweet and I couldn’t help but smile into our kiss. When I pulled back and looked at him, I almost got lost in the depth of his golden irises. 

It took me a few moments to find my words and when I did, I finally concluded, “You lied.”

He leaned down again, his breath hot against my face as he whispered, “I know,” before capturing my lips once more. 

Thank you so much for reading! Your comments mean the world to me and feedback helps me stay motivated to come up with more stories. Let me know what you think!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @delicatespencer @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luna-novae @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @s4r4hsblog @sebs-oxygen @reidsmilf @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @jordierama @daniacat @ellamaianderson @cynbx @feltonswifesworld87 @sweetannanas

[3-2-whump]

You Told Me It Had Stopped

<prev next>

Hi again, everyone! Ready for more pain and angst? (I wasn't asking!)

So hard to believe we're reaching the end of this story! With only five more chapters to go after this one (unless I cram in more story at the last minute), things are only gonna get crazier from here, but hopefully, it'll be just as satisfying as the last few chapters.

Shoutout to my amazing beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz , this chapter would not be what it is without them!

This chapter will have links within it referring you to previous chapters. If you have not read In Vino (et Venenum) Veritas or Tying Up Loose Ends, I'd highly suggest you give those a peek

TW/CW: slave whump, intimate whumper, manipulative whumper, emotional angst, prostitution, dehumanization, blackmail, referenced noncon, forced to watch (though not in the traditional sense)

“GOAL!” the announcer’s voice rang out over the laptop’s speakers.

Nico and Khaled cheered in unison as Portugal secured its place in the quarterfinals. Nico wrapped an arm around Khaled to hug him close, but a flash of purple from Khaled’s shirt collar stopped him.

Khaled sensed the change in atmosphere immediately. “Wait, what’s wrong?” he asked, his smile waning slightly.

“Is that a hickey?”

The sounds of cheering from a stadium half a world away were forgotten as Khaled’s smile dropped completely. He instinctively tried to adjust his shirt collar, but Nico grasped his hands in his own before he could. “Is that a hickey?” he asked again, tone serious.

Khaled nodded as his eyes turned downwards. Nico let go of his hands, frowning all the while. “I thought it had stopped,” he said, letting the disappointment creep into his voice. “You told me it had stopped, Khaled.”

“It did stop,” Khaled answered, eyes still downcast. “But then… it started up again…”

“I thought he was paying you to be his executive assistant-”

“Oh he is,” Khaled replied tersely, “and he’s paying me for this too.”

Nico faltered. “But, how –why –how could you?” Nico told himself the anger he felt was supposed to be for the Boss, and that he was misdirecting it at Khaled, who was already going through so much already. Though, if he was being completely honest with himself, his anger at Khaled wasn’t that misdirected. He was so, so tired of being lied to. “Fuck the money, why would let him do it again?!” he demanded.

“Why would I let him do it again? Do you think I have any choice in this?”

“No –yes –wait, no?” Nico shook his head. “I don’t know. What I’m trying to say is, you could’ve turned down the money, couldn’t you?!”

“Like fuck I could!” Khaled argued. “Are you the one saving up for his freedom? Don’t talk to me about money, Nico!”

“What good is money and freedom when it means losing your self-respect, and your friendship with me, Khaled?!”

Khaled made an exaggerated snort. “Some friendship we have! Remember when you took me out drinking, and I got so drunk I told you everything?”

Nico cringed at the memory, and more importantly at what came after. Khaled noticed his discomfort right away and dug his claws in deeper. “And do you remember when the Boss paid you off to keep silent about me, and you fucking took the bribe?”

“He was holding my tuition hostage-”

“Your tuition –he’s holding me hostage!”

“-That was not a bribe!”

Khaled ignored the minute distinction. “It still hurt, you know!” And then, he locked eyes with Nico. “My first and only friend since I was stolen to this awful place turned his back on me, and all I asked myself was why wasn’t I good enough, why wasn’t I worth defending!” Despite the black flames of vitriol in his eyes, Nico could see a faint, vulnerable sheen of tears. 

“Wait, shit, no-” he began to apologize. The damage was done as Khaled shoved his coat on and walked to the door. Nico belatedly reached out his hand. “I’m sorry, Khaled! I didn’t mean to hurt you like that! Come back-”

“Go fuck yourself!” Khaled cried. “It’s not like you want to be friends with someone who sells themselves, anyway,” he murmured angrily as he let the door slam behind him.

Nico was left all alone with his regrets as the game played on his laptop in the background.

-

Three days after they had that argument, and Khaled had not seen Nico for lunch since. That was entirely expected though. He had hurt his friend immensely, and, three days later, he was still no closer to coming up with a sufficient apology for what he’d said. He decided to at least add the new mark to his log, although he regretted not being able to snap a covert picture of it to add to his records. He ducked into his backpack’s inner pocket to retrieve his flash drive, where he made it a habit of storing all evidence of Khaled’s abuse for future reference.

It was not in the inner pocket.

Well, maybe it’s in the bottom of my backpack? Nico reasoned. He methodically took out each textbook and groped around the bottom, shining his cellphone light down there, too.

It was not at the bottom of his backpack.

Where is it?! Nico tore through his backpack, searching it thoroughly, even so much as to turn it upside down and shake it. He checked every desk drawer again and again, and emptied every pants and jacket pocket. Still no flash drive.

A chiming sound from his monitor signaled an email, a high priority one at that. Nico paused his tearing apart of the guard shack to view it.

One (1) new message from The Boss

Nico clicked it.

Looking for something? Meet me downstairs to retrieve it.

It was succinct, yet it elicited so much dread. He gulped.

As if crossing the parking lot late at night in the dead of January wasn’t creepy enough, Nico stood at the top of the stairwell leading to the infamous T & I cellar, feeling the winter’s chill even inside the brick and mortar walls of the mansion. Even from the top of the stairs it smelled like dried blood, and the dimness of the room below made it look as if the stairs descended into an abyss. He steeled his nerves and descended into the abyss, step by concrete step, painfully aware of how much noise his shoes made in the quietness of the empty building.

Even though he had seen the T & I cellar in the security footage, Nico realized nothing compared to being down there in person. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps dangled unlit like limp, long dead jellyfish. The fireplace was concealed behind a large white sheet, stretched taut and glowing bluish white over the expanse of the wall. The opposing wall still boasted its rack lined with various instruments of torture out in the open. In the middle sat one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and large mottled stains of red that could be traced down to the concrete floors below. Nico thought he would be sick just looking at the bloodstains alone. There were chairs pulled up to that table, though, one of which was occupied by the boss Don Costa himself, looking mighty smug in the dimness of the room. Near the edge of the table was a projector and a laptop, operated by Khaled, who stood silently beside the table bearing his own bloodstains as if he weren’t affected at all. His dark brown eyes flitted to Nico once, possibly just to confirm he was there, before resolutely fixing back onto the laptop and projector in front of him. Nico couldn’t blame him for being mad at him still.

“Nico Clemenza,” Don Costa greeted, breaking the tension between the two friends, “do you have any idea why you’re here?”

I’m not in trouble, I’m not in trouble, I’m not in trouble -am I? Nico thought. That tone of voice and the whole context of meeting in the T & I cellar certainly seemed to contradict that. “You have something that I’m looking for, sir?” He didn’t mean for it to be asked like a question, but right now he wasn’t sure what the safe answer would be.

“That’s right,” his boss affirmed, smirking condescendingly. “I got a little tip-off from Bennie and Michael last weekend that you have been rather cagey about a certain flash drive.”

Dad and Uncle Mike? The last time Nico had seen them was when he’d just visited home last weekend. He had gotten into an argument with his uncle over Khaled’s treatment, and he had pushed his dad out of his room when he’d asked about the flash drive labeled ‘Saved Footage’. Did they go through my stuff when I wasn’t there? Did they find the flash drive and snitch on me?! He knew the oath of loyalty these men had taken, but the betrayal by his own family still hurt.

“I asked Khaled about it, but my poor pet didn’t seem to know what it was for, either,” the boss continued. “So you can imagine how he reacted –how both of us reacted, when we plugged it in and saw all that saved footage.”

Nico’s face paled in horror, eyes widening as he realized how years-worth of Khaled’s torture saved to his personal device must have looked out of context. He quickly turned to Khaled to beg for his understanding. “Khaled, I can explain, it’s not what it looks like!” he protested. His friend finally turned toward him, delicate lips downturned into a slight frown. “I don’t know what he told you, but please, believe me, I can explain!”

“Oh, we know what it looks like,” Don Costa sneered. “It’s funny, I always wondered why you were so interested in my slave, but now it makes perfect sense!” He laughed as Nico’s jaw worked up and down, sputtering in a pathetic attempt to verbally defend himself. Khaled meanwhile stayed still as a statue, focusing only on the laptop screen in front of him. “I could just get you your own once you graduate, you know, like as a graduation present. You don’t have to lower yourself to befriend mine.” He tilted his head toward the projector. “So, here you were, playing at being friends with my pet while stealing away all those moments caught on film the whole time, whether it be for your own pleasure or-” The older man raised his eyebrows as a mischievous sharpness glinted in those cold gray eyes. “-Maybe you’re uploading them somewhere for the pleasure of millions?”

Nico choked a little at the baseless accusation.

“But, whether you’re saving them for your personal spank bank or uploading them to a porn site, you are still called down here for violating your NDA,” Thomas concluded. He whipped out a stack of papers and dramatically slammed them onto the table, the impact echoing a bit in the otherwise silent room. Nico eyed the stack of papers warily. When he first started working for Costa Insurance, he did what anyone else would and skimmed the document for the right places to initial or sign. Now, as a nearly completed law student, he recognized the weight of the consequences that violating an NDA would lead to.

“Go on, have a seat.”

Nico approached the table like a death row convict on the way to his execution. He lowered himself into the chair and stared down at the document before him, thumbing through its pages as he now read every word. He obviously must have taken too long, as the man seated in front of him cleared his throat impatiently as he murmured, “Page eight, paragraph B.”

Nico flipped there. “There shall be no extraction or publication of client’s names, addresses, accounts, or other personal information outside the grounds of Costa Insurance,” he read aloud.

Before he could ask for an explanation, Don Costa turned toward his slave, who had remained silent throughout the whole thing. “Khaled, play February 9, 2018.” Khaled typed into the laptop almost robotically as he brought up the footage from the specified date. There, projected on the makeshift screen for all three viewers in the room to see, was footage of Khaled lying naked on the ground with his hands tied behind his back, a silk tie wedged into his mouth, and Jaime’s boot on top of his head. Nico recognized it from the Key Game era.

“See, there,” the boss pointed out, referring to a desktop screen in the peripheral of the video.

Nico scoffed. “But you can hardly even read that!”

“Nevertheless, there is sensitive client information on that computer screen that cannot leave these grounds.” He nodded toward Khaled. “September 24, 2018.” Khaled obeyed, his face a calm mask of detachment as he pulled up another video of his own tortures. The next scene featured Khaled, on his knees, sucking off Nico’s uncle as he and the Boss talked business. “There, on the coffee table,” Don Costa directed him. The list of phone numbers was slightly more legible than the previous leak of sensitive information. A pit of dread opened in the bottom of Nico’s stomach. How many more of these videos coincidentally contained sensitive information in their periphery? Were they placed within the camera frame on purpose?

“Khaled, November 21-”

“I get it, I get it,” Nico objected, palms raised up. “I fucked up, I get it. So, what do you want me to do about it, sir?”

Don Costa’s mouth upturned into a sickening grin. “Easy! Destroy the flash drive, take down whatever videos you posted, and, should this data leak come to bite us in the ass one day, take full responsibility for it and resign,” he explained.

Destroy all the evidence? Nico gulped. He wasn’t keen on losing years’ worth of documented human rights abuses, but he also didn’t want to deal with the threat of litigation.

“What are you willing to give to see Khaled happy and free, as he should be?” Julio’s question haunted him. Nico summoned his courage to look the bastard in the eyes. “And if I refuse?” he asked.

Khaled visibly perked up, shooting a questioning glance at Nico’s rare moment of defiance. Meanwhile, the smile dropped off Thomas’ face. “Then I reenact every single thing I’ve done to Khaled that you’ve saved on that little flash drive of yours,” he threatened. Khaled’s attention focused back onto his master, and although Nico may have imagined it, the young man trembled. “You have years’ worth of footage, and the night is still young.”

“You’re bluffing,” Nico replied, ignoring the certainty in his mind that this man was not bluffing. “You nearly killed him last spring when you carved his back open! Are you really going to take that risk again?”

The boss merely shrugged. “He survived the last time, why not?” he asked nonchalantly.

Khaled’s face paled, taking on a sickly color as his trembling worsened. Nico folded. “Okay, okay, fine!” The last thing he wanted to see was Khaled getting tortured and knowing he could’ve stopped it. Nico thrust forward a reluctant but outstretched palm. “Give me the flash drive, and I’ll smash it right here,” he promised.

Khaled breathed an almost-imperceptible sigh of relief, but the boss stopped him just before he could unplug the flash drive. “Wait, before you smash it, I just gotta know…” He smiled conspiratorially at Nico. “What part was your favorite?”

-

Nico waited patiently for the phone on the other end to pick up that night, drumming his fingers against his desk as he overlooked the city from his bedroom window. Eventually, the repetitive ringing was replaced by a very loud Pitbull remix, followed by a heavily accented “Alvarez Auto and Motorcycles, what do you want?”

“Yeah, can you tell me my status on my radiator hose? Did you use a 9-mm wrench?” Nico asked, well-practiced in the Juicio Divino code by now. The person who had picked up the call fell silent, the music thumped on in the background, and eventually a new voice carried over the phone.

“What are you calling me for, I told you only to call me if it was an emergency!” Julio yelled. There were light shuffling sounds, and then no background music at all, an indication that Nico’s partner in crime had moved to a more private place to talk.

“We need to try to kill him again,” Nico explained, getting straight to the point. “Things are getting worse on my end.”

“Worse, what do you mean worse?” Julio’s breath hitched a little. “Does he know you’re working with me?!”

“No, he –he found my flash drive,” Nico explained. “Made me destroy it. That’s four-ish years of evidence, gone.”

Julio went silent for a couple seconds before coming to the same conclusion. “You’re right. We need to kill him again. And this time, I won’t miss.”

“We won’t miss,” Nico corrected. “We’re in this together, partner.”

The static-y sigh on the other end of the line made Nico’s heart do something weird and tingly. “Yes we are,” Julio conceded. He hung up. Nico brought the phone down from his ear and caught his own reflection in the window. He was smiling.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire

[queeniesblog]

Desires of The Heart and Body

Pairing: Z x Carmi(Fem Favor!OC)

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: Smut

Synopsis:

Thankfully, Z grabbed Carmi's chin and forced her to look directly into his heated eyes. Oh how beautiful they were, she lovingly sighed in silence. Swirls of shimmering gold, crimson as red as rubies and a dash of violet beneath a mess of soft hair hypnotically entranced her, keeping Carmi hanging off of the demon’s every word.

“Do not,” Z growled, glaring down at the dark skinned woman as his tail began to curl around her throat. “Even think about those humans in my presence. Not your pathetic little friends, not your insignificant little ex, and definitely not that sniveling, annoying blue haired idiot.”

Carmi could feel herself trembling, but not from fear. Oh, never from fear. But she wished that it was, for fear would be a far less shameful emotion to have at this moment.

‘Jesus, sweet Jesus,’ Carmi silently prayed to a god she knew would not listen. ‘Please, please, please, do not let this man find out how attractive his voice is. I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Notes: Welcome to the first fanfic I have for planned for the VN Favor! Before the story starts, I would like to give a special shoutout to @concreteparasite for not only creating Z, but also developing this amazing VN that will NOT leave my head. I also would like to give another massive shoutout to zackvalence for absolutely killing this VA role and really bringing Z to life. And finally, I would like to give a big, big shoutout to @winged-self-indulgence for helping me, inspiring me and giving me the courage to actually publish this massive fic. Diya if it wasn't for you I wouldn't have the balls to post this. Please enjoy!

AO3 Link

“...finally I gave up and recommended some simple tips to get better rest: don’t ingest caffeine or alcohol, avoid any tech when getting ready for bed, try lowering the room temperature… You know, things like that.” Carmi’s dark eyes flickered to her drink as she remembered the conversation that took place earlier in the day with her creepy coworker at the movie theater they both worked at. It was already bad enough that Alvin just couldn’t(or wouldn’t at this point) take the hint and give up on his crush on her. A crush that was unreciprocated as Carmi had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who she had told everyone about multiple times. A boyfriend who made her happy. A boyfriend who was…

Listening to her story about her day at this very instant.

“Then I told him if all that didn’t work, then he should just hit up his GP and ask about using some zolpidem or eszopiclone.”

“Hmph.” Z’s face, which was usually a mixture of adorably cute and devilish handsome, had scrunched up in annoyance at the mention of her human co-worker. The demon made no efforts to hide his intense dislike of Alvin. But then again, it didn’t appear to be personal as Z didn’t seem to like anyone in her “friend group”. Maybe that was a red flag. Or, it would be if Carmi didn’t also start to carry an ever growing dislike of her supposed ‘friends’. 

“You should have left him to suffer his fate. That would have been much more entertaining.” Z seemed to perk up at the thought of Alvin having to suffer multiple sleepless nights. Dizzy, disoriented and having to endure splitting headaches every single waking moment. As tempting as it was to ignore Alvin and leave him to suffer, Carmi was worried about him. Not because she cared about her co-worker(quite the opposite really) but more so, concerned that if his mental state deteriorated any further, there was no telling what Alvin could do. As easy as it was to simply wave off Alvin of being incapable of committing horrible actions due to his personality alone, it was better safe than sorry. Carmi would rather deal with a minor annoyance now, than a massive problem later.   

“Hmm.. at least he has good tastes in candies.” Carmi rolled the strawberry bon-bon between her dark fingers. At least helping people sometimes had its perks. Even if Alvin was an annoying, creepy, incel of a stalker, at least he had a general idea of what she liked. “It's one of his few redeeming qualities.”

“Few?” Carmi could already hear Z’s unspoken question of ‘He has ANY redeeming qualities?’

“I mean, as much as I don’t personally like the guy, Alvin isn’t the worst person I’ve had to work with…” Carmi thought long and hard about the many group projects she had to endure in her younger school days. Unfortunately, being the quiet kid with the best grades often meant that her classmates were going to be as useful as a broken candy coated jizz-filled condom.

“He pulls his weight, he doesn’t do things that would get me in trouble, and when I ask him to do something, he does it.” Carmi listed off, oblivious to the demon’s growing ire. “Yeah… he’s not a bad partner at all.”

Carmi swirled the chilled brandy around, as if the sound of the liquid hitting against the glass would help calm her thoughts. Carmi had been in romantic relationships before- first with Jay and then her recent ex, Xander. Feeling sexual desires for another wasn’t new territory for her, hell, even having sex wasn’t. But she had never felt it with such intensity, such ferocity . It was as if the make-out session Carmi had shared with the fiend had unlocked some sort of floodgate. When they were together, it was bad enough, but at least Carmi could distract herself with the endless entertainment that Z provided. He was very good at distracting her from her problems after all.

When they were apart however?

The dark skinned woman knew from the moment that she looked for Z’s adorable dimple whenever he smiled, that she was done for. And unsurprisingly, her hypothesis had been one-hundred percent correct. Whenever the two could not be around each other, it was like utter agony . All she wanted to do was spend time with Z, or talk and text him to see how he was doing when they couldn’t be hanging out. It had even affected her emotionless persona at her job. If there was any time that Carmi didn’t need to use her brain on the job, she would simply sigh and mentally moan about how much better it would be if Z was with her, or she with him. In the back of her head, all Carmi could constantly think about was her boyfriend- his shit eating smile showing off his sharp teeth and split tongue, the smell of whiskey and smoke that curled around his body, his dangerously honey sweet voice, his eyes, his memorizing eyes…

Carmi mentality slapped herself aside the head. She was becoming too clingy. This way of thinking was downright creepy and had gotten to such a bad point that Carmi had bought a black silk choker with an oval shaped pendant. But not just any necklace. No, it was a gorgeous fire stone opal that shimmered beautifully, with the same colors of Z’s eyes. It had cost her a pretty penny too- but when she had first seen it while window shopping on one of her few off days, it was like the dark skinned woman had blacked out. Before Carmi could even register what was going on, the bagged and paid for necklace was already in her hand with the shopkeeper waving her goodbye. She resisted the urge to kick herself as she quickly strode her way back home. Why, why had she done that?! 

Carmi's eyes flickered to the agitated demon as she once again stewed over her thoughts. No, she knew why she had bought the damn necklace. She hated to admit it but… the thought of wearing something that subtly showed just who she belonged to sent a pleasant tingling chill down her spine. God, that was so embarrassing to admit. It was even more embarrassing to admit she was wearing the dang thing! Not that Z had made the connection thankfully. Or… did she want him to notice? A non-verbal symbol of her devotion to him. Would Z like it if they had known just how badly she wanted to be marked by him…?

The small candy felt warm in her hands. Carmi didn’t feel like eating the sweet, nor answering any of the questions she had asked herself. Besides, the woman could see how annoyed her companion had gotten at the mention of her coworker. 

“Uhhh, I don’t really want to eat any sweets right now.” Carmi placed the candy on the table in front of the fiend. She didn’t want to risk touching him, as any physical contact might have emboldened her to ask Z if he wanted to grope her ass or chest. “You can have it if you want-” 

Z swiftly flicked the candy across the table and onto the floor. Or rather, attempted as Carmi quickly intervened, blocking the action with her hand. The strawberry bon-bon rolled pitifully onto the floor.

“Z… why would you do that?”

“It had a bug on it.” Z lied. Carmi sighed and narrowed her eyes at the demon as she pointed a finger at him.

“Listen Z. I don’t know what type of demonic mumbo jumbo you have going on where literally no one reacts to our presence,” Carmi started to lower herself to receive the abandoned candy. “But I was raised to always clean up after myself when I went out to eat. It is never okay to leave a mess!”

“Really now?” Carmi couldn’t see all of Z’s face, but she could practically hear his eyebrow raising. She thought about what she said a bit more as she hummed thoughtfully.

“Hmmm… not really, no. They were pretty abusive to the waiter staff now that I think about it.” Carmi rested her chin on the table. “Not the point though. I always clean up any mess that I make.” 

“Awww, look at you being such a good girl Carmi.” Z cooed as if she was an adorable pet. A tiny shiver nearly ran through her body but she suppressed the sensation. She was getting quite good about doing that around Z now. 

‘Yeah, I’ll be your good girl any day of the week.’ Carmi thought to herself. 

“Haha, yeah! Right back at you, your highness!” Carmi nervously laughed as the woman practically dove underneath the table to hide the blood rushing to her face.

‘Right back at you? RIGHT BACK FUCKING AT YOU?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!’ The urge to slam her head on the wall in frustration was immense. ‘WHY THE FUCK DID I SAY THAT?!’

She wanted Z so, so incredibly badly that at this point, it was making her look fucking stupid. And even though it caused her spikes of shame to run rampant throughout Carmi’s body, it did nothing to rein in the borderline animalistic urges she felt towards the demon. The thoughts about Z couldn’t be stopped at this point.

But… would she want them to stop?

True, it had become difficult for Carmi to rein in her lustful urges. It was if every time she managed to squander one depraved thought about the demon, two more would pop up. They would whisper temptations in her mind, recounting and speculating the possibilities of what could happen if she managed to fuck Z. Each time left Carmi with goosebumps on her dark skin and her feeling like a depraved, dripping mess. But, wasn’t it natural to feel sexual attraction to a romantic partner? Maybe not to this particular degree, but many people had started relationships based on lust and lust alone(they weren’t necessarily good relationships, but that wasn’t the point).   

It wasn’t that she didn’t like being in a relationship with him either. It was in fact, the very opposite. Z had been a breath of fresh air in the piss-filled diarrhea shitstorm that was Carmi’s life. A reprise from all of the worries and fears that plagued her mind. Was it sad to admit that Z had treated her better than anyone else in all of her years alive? Probably, but it wasn't like she had anyone else to tell. The demon was interesting, charming and… surprisingly sweet. He had the ability to distract her from problems she couldn’t immediately fix, or make her laugh so hard that she struggled to breathe. And even when he couldn’t help her with her problems or cheer her up with a joke… Z would just… be there for her. Listen to her worries and offer comfort. They couldn’t fix everything that was wrong in her life, nor did Carmi expect him to. It was the simple fact that he stayed, and supported her that mattered the most. It had felt so foreign and yet so good to know that no matter what, Z had her back, and that she didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

It also didn’t help her that Z was extremely easy on the eyes. Carmi hadn’t even noticed her growing attraction to Z until it was too late. When she had first laid eyes upon him, Z looked… fine. His horns, tail and sharp teeth were such an oddity that it caused her to take a second glance but aside from that, there was nothing particularly notable about him. It was only when Carmi started to grow ever fonder of her demon that she began to take notice of certain features he had. How his brownish black hair curled around his face and horns. Was it always so soft looking? The way that his tail would slow down once the demon was deep in thought was downright adorable. She even took note of how Z even had a cute little dimple on the right side of his face that would appear once he smirked. It was easy to miss, but it was there. Carmi would know considering she stared at it in awe every time it showed. Sometimes, they even gave her cuteness aggression so intense that she just wanted to squeeze him(with both her arms and legs) for the rest of her days. 

In other words, he was stupidly gorgeous.

So why couldn’t she bring herself to finally bang him?

Who was she kidding? Carmi was a terrible flirt and was just as responsible for the lack of intimacy in the relationship as Z. She wanted to, but everytime the opportunity came up, she would just freeze and then laugh it off. And the few times she was bold enough to tease the demon, the courage would disappear faster than her biological parents did once Z retaliated. Why was she like this? She liked Z, she really, really liked him and… Carmi didn’t want to fuck it up somehow.

Suddenly, the idea of hiding underneath the table for the rest of eternity was starting to look very appealing. What if he didn’t like how she looked naked? What if she sounded or said something weird? What if she didn’t pleasure him well enough? So many doubts and worries filled her head that when there was a chance to make a move on him, she restrained herself. But Carmi had needs and was getting desperate at this point. The woman had half a mind to just flash him her fat tits and hoped that it somehow worked out for the both of them.

‘Why won’t you claim me for your own?’ Carmi wanted to ask him. Thinking about Z like that was wrong. But she couldn't help it, and the urges were growing more and more.‘Reach out and take me for yourself? I've dreamed of it. Every single night I have dreamed.’

As her eyes scanned for the discarded candy, Carmi’s thoughts began to wander towards Z once again. She really couldn’t help it. 

Even her own body had become obsessed with him. 

“Fuck…!”

Carmi’s body shuttered and squirmed from the pleasure given to her by her vibrating dildo. Laying on her back, she had one hand on her large chest to play with her tits, twisting and pinching them until they were sensitive. Carmi let out a little whimper as she worked her toy deeper inside with a quiet squelch. What she really wanted to feel was Z sliding two of his fingers deep inside, jackhammering her abused hole. Wanted him to rip off her lacy panties and cram his fat cock inside her, use her like a fleshlight while he moaned about how good she felt. As Carmi got closer and closer to her climax, her brain provided her with new scenarios about Z and she thrusted the toy in deeper.

…Her shoulders on the blanketed floor and her holes pointed up, legs bent as Z furiously pounded into her practically limp body. The position would make Carmi feel vulnerable, exposed and she would love every second of it. Z felt so big and hot that it would feel like her body was melting from the numerous creampies her lover had already so graciously provided her. 

Carmi would then tense up as she reached her own orgasm, the action making the overflowing cum in her twitching hole be pushed out. More and more large pearly droplets would drooled down to hit her bunched-up hem and splashed onto her panting chest with each thrust…

…Or maybe she should ‘conveniently’ forget her panties and spread her legs wide while she wore a shorter dress? That would have to get Z’s attention. Besides, Carmi would love to see the look on his face when  the little fiend had an unrestricted view of her leaking entrance, relaxed and flushed with arousal at their next meetup. The alcohol provided by the bar and the thrill of the exhibition would provide her with all the courage she would need. What would Z do when they noticed? Would he fuck her right there and then on the table…?

No, she should keep the underwear. After all, the idea of Z masturbating while pointing his cock at her crotch so he could cum inside her underwear would get her so hot and bothered. She’d lift up the hem of her dress and hold them between her teeth to better expose her cunt and breasts, just for him. Carmi would love to see Z furiously stroking his cock to the sight of her exposed pussy, flushed and panting like he was a dog in heat. But the feeling of the lashings of pearly cum on her bare mound would feel so much better. Yes… Carmi would love to have something she could feel on her lips all day. Especially if it was from Z…

…Large and heated hands would slip through the spaces between Carmi's arms and firmly gripped her heavy chest at home. A hot mouth settling in the gentle slope between the back of her neck and her shoulder, beginning to leave a trail of kisses and nips in their wake. Carmi would moan and reached back to grasp the demon’s body and horns for support. She’d bet that she would be able to feel his erect cock sliding between her thighs, and grinding himself between her dripping sex as his tail curled around her waist. 

Fuck, she would give anything to have Z swipe his harden shaft through her lips and bump the bottom of her clit, pace growing in intensity as they both reached their peaks. She would flex her thighs around his dick as they both came. Z would be able to feel her tremble with an orgasm of her own, her pussy spasming on top of his cock and she wanted to feel Z slamming his hips against her ass a final time as he spurted rope after rope of hot cum onto her waiting hands in turn. After all, she couldn’t allow a single drop of Z’s load be wasted…

…The two locked in a passionate embrace, Carmi on her back, ankles locked around the demon’s hips, while Z was mounting her, thrusting deeply and drinking Carmi’s ecstatic noises with a deep kiss. He’d hold her in his arms and moan lovingly in her ear about how she was made for him, nobody could take her from him and how they were meant to be-   

Carmi rode out her climax with a wail of pleasure, imagining it was Z who was bringing her to completion instead of some large silicone toy. After regaining control over her labored breaths, the heated pleasure that she felt turned into an icy bath of shame that washed over Carmi. What did she just do?  She had just felt so lustful and pent up in the moment that she… 

The reality of what had occurred set in and she felt something well up in her flushed body. Not shame, but frustration. Even though Carmi had orgasmed, it brought her little relief from the burning well of desire within her. It didn’t seem to matter if she fucked a plethora of people or pleasured herself with the newest sex toys, the end result would be the same. The feeling of being unfulfilled as all she could think about was Z.

Z, giggly and ecstatic as her dog licked his cheek. Z, warm and relaxed under the soft light of the bar. Z, annoyed and adorable as he lost their numbers game. Carmi wanted to love Z, be loved by Z, make love with Z, Z, Z, Z -

The glint of a shiny candy wrapper caught Carmi’s gaze, pulling her away from the depths of her memories. Great. Now she was kind of horny. Again . Back to square one. Crawling towards the strawberry bon-bon as it(ironically) laid near Z’s boots, Carmi slipped it into her jacket pocket. She’d make sure to throw it away when she’d return home. Or maybe she should find a trash bin here…? Carmi really didn’t want her dog to go looking for a forbidden treat that came with a trip to the vet. Knowing him, he wouldn’t even need to smell it. He'd just assume the young woman had something on her and start searching. Carmi blamed Z for that.

‘Okay, now I just need to… to…’ Carmi’s thoughts trailed off as she realized what position she was in. She was nearly touching the demon’s knees and past his thighs was his…

‘NO!’ Carmi mentally yelled at her brain. She wanted to force it back on track and never mention this day again. ‘ Stop it! We can’t be weird!’

But it was too late as her head had heard the name ‘Z’ and lost all ability to reason with logic. Carmi couldn’t get a good sight on his bulge from where she was, but it looked like it was on the larger size. What did he sound like when he was being pleasured? Carmi already found Z’s voice to be lovely, but she knew it would sound even better if he was whimpering from overstimulation. Was his cum more watery or was it thick and creamy? Oh, she hoped he cummed buckets. Carmi would be willing to bet money that Z giving her a nice and deep creampie would feel utterly amazing . Orgasming was the best part certainly, but Carmi liked to enjoy the tension and journey of reaching her high. Would the fiend be a selfish lover? She couldn’t imagine it, considering Z had been surprisingly so attentive to her needs. The hot, weighted feeling of her lust for Z sunk down the bottom of her stomach as she squeezed her aching thighs. For a single second, Carmi even wondered how he tasted …

Suddenly, as quick as a viper, Z’s tail wrapped itself around Carmi’s dry throat, pulling her closer to him. Despite its slim appearance, the thing was just as strong as any other part of his body, and it didn’t stop until her head was practically on one of Z’s thighs. He was already man spreading, so Carmi tried really hard not to think about the position she was in. 

Key word “tried.”

‘DO NOT LOOK AT HIS DICK PRINT CARMI.’ She was practically screaming in her head at this point, begging her brain to listen to her just this one time. ‘FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT FUCKING LOOK AT IT. HE WILL NEVER LET US LIVE IT DOWN IF WE GET CAUGHT STARING.’   

Thankfully, Z grabbed Carmi's chin and forced her to look directly into his heated eyes. Oh how beautiful they were, she lovingly sighed in silence. Swirls of shimmering gold, crimson as red as rubies and a dash of violet beneath a mess of soft hair hypnotically entranced her, keeping Carmi hanging off of the demon’s every word.

“Do not,” Z growled, glaring down at the dark skinned woman as his tail began to curl around her throat. “Even think about those humans in my presence. Not your pathetic little friends, not your insignificant little ex, and definitely not that sniveling, annoying blue haired idiot.”    

Carmi could feel herself trembling, but not from fear. Oh, never from fear. But she wished that it was, for fear would be a far less shameful emotion to have at this moment.

‘Jesus, sweet Jesus,’ Carmi silently prayed to a god she knew would not listen. ‘Please, please, please, do not let this man find out how attractive his voice is. I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Carmi was so entranced by his voice, that it took her a second to register what Z had said. Instantly, whatever spell over her had broken and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor in shock.

“I’m not, and I’m borderline offended that you think that I would be thinking about that creep!” Carmi scoffed. She also wanted to roll her eyes, but she squashed the urge down. Honestly, she was more confused than anything. What on earth would Z have gotten the idea that the one she was thinking about was Alvin?

“Demon, remember?” Z tapped their horns, silver rings shining brightly. Carmi frowned, looking up at them, confusion swirling in her head. Why was Z bringing that up now? It wasn’t like it was hard to forget that he was a fiend from the literal pits of hell. What did that have to do with situation at all-

Oh. Oh.

Carmi felt heat flushing to her face for the second time that night. Z could have probably sensed how… excited she was getting underneath the table, which was extremely embarrassing. But that still didn’t answer the question of why Z mentioned her co-worker specifically . Was it something Carmi had said? She had mentioned a few things she thought were good about him, sure, but every other single time the guy was brought up, her distaste for him was clear as day. That was even if Carmi brought up Alvin at all, which she rarely ever did.     

“Z, Alvin is not the cause of this!” Carmi hissed. She could feel the blood rushing to her face as she tried to stutter out a response. “I-it’s…”

“Hmmm?” 

Her face was practically on fire at this point. Why wouldn’t she just spit out the truth? Carmi thought about it, confessing about… everything she had been feeling. The insides of Carmi’s guts churned as if they were the deep, oily waters of a terrifying storm. She did want him in that way, lord knows she couldn’t stop thinking about it. So why hadn’t she? Z was kind, he was funny, he was sweet… they were practically the perfect boyfriend, even if they loved to ramble on about arson. His many odd quirks just made him all the more charming. Carmi felt her heart let out an affectionate squeeze. She loved him. And insecurities be damned, she was going to show it.

In an instant, Carmi made up her mind. She was finally going to fuck Z.

Trying to calm herself before she fell into an anxiety fueled breakdown, Carmi looked straight at Z.  

Z stared at her.

She stared at Z.

The flat spade shaped tail began to lightly slap Carmi on the forehead and nose. 

“Hey-wait! Z, cut it ou- will you stop?!?” She spat out, her eyes closed as Z promptly ignored what she said. Without thinking, Carmi snapped her teeth forward and caught Z’s spade shaped tail in between her fangs. Immediately, Z let out a rough, pitchy gasp that ended in a grunt from the back of the throat, as if he was fighting the urge to moan fully. 

Carmi nearly dropped the tail in pure shock. The gravity of the situation dawned on the heavyset woman and a mixture of fear and arousal combining themselves as one, twisting and squirming as it resided in her stomach. Did she really just put his tail in her mouth? Z had told her(albeit it was under his breath) she could if she wanted to, and god she did. The idea of finally being able to see Z in such a state again only made her heart pound faster. 

“Aww, Dove . Do you need me to fill up your mouth that badly?” Z cooed, a beautiful red blush spreading upon his face. She was amazed that such a tiny action had such a profound effect on him. “If you’re truly that desperate, I can make sure that you put that sweet little tongue to good use.” 

“Yeah, I am.” Carmi bluntly replied. “Can I suck you off Z?”

It was Z’s turn to look dumbfounded once he realized that the woman was serious, clearly not expecting his teasing to work this time. It didn’t stop him from excitedly nodding his head though. Oh fuck, if a simple touch was enough to have her fighting the urge to ask the demon to feel her up with his large, warm hands, then seeing Z leap at the chance for a BJ nearly had her naked on the table with her legs spread from the entrance of the bar to the fire exit. Carmi had to fuck him. Right now.

The stem was nearly as thick as a finger, smooth like rubber, and pleasant against her tongue. Taking the feeling of Z’s hand cradling her head as a more intimate invitation to continue, Carmi lapped the tip in between her teeth. It pressed against her lips and the woman lovingly gave a very light kiss before allowing her lips to part, her tongue dragging it into her maw. Again, Z huffed out a long groan. Her mind spun into a daze. Slowly, gently, Carmi dragged the demon’s tail deeper into her hot mouth. She rubbed it against the roof of her mouth as she could feel it pulsating with Z’s quickening heartbeat. 

Flicking and lapping circles around the piece of flesh, Carmi made a show of sucking on it. The more the woman lavished the fiend’s tail with attention from her tongue, the more Z would let out delicious sounds that started to drive her insane as he thrusted his tail deeper until it hit the back of her throat. Hearing their breathy moans, no doubt enjoying the affection she was giving him, had caused Carmi to become bold enough to feel up his cock. 

Instantly, the woman could feel him harden underneath her touch, could see the swell of his cock straining against the fabric of his pants from her presence. Hot excitement flooded her stomach and she could feel drool pool into her mouth. Swallowing thickly, Carmi’s dark hand quickly unbuttoned his black jeans and once again she felt him stir beneath her touch. Feeling bolder by the second, Carmi’s mouth leaned forward to Z’s pants and slowly, carefully, began to unzip his pants with her mouth.

Finally, Z’s cock sprung free as he was already half-hard, nearly hitting her in the face. A circumcised penis that was much like his fingers, long, thick, and turned black with a red crown. Dribbling precum in her soft hands, Carmi noted that it curved up slightly, in a way that was designed to attack that sensitive spot.

Carmi also noted that it was stupidly fucking massive.

‘What the FUCK?’ Why the hell is he so damn BIG?!’ Carmi asked herself, an incredulous tone weaving itself in her internal dialogue. It wasn’t just the length, but the thickness of it too. Though she felt a spike of panic bolt through her body, Carmi’s outward expression did not visibly change. Could she really take Z’s cock…? Carmi thought back to the many, many toys of differing sizes and shapes hidden in her apartment. If she was horny enough with some good prepping… eh. She probably could. But in the mouth was a different ball game entirely. It wasn’t as if Carmi had been practicing how to take a massive cock down her throat just in case she had the opportunity to suck Z off.

Well.

Maybe she had… but that wasn’t the point! Blowing a dildo was much different than giving one to a person made of flesh and blood. How the fuck was she going to fit this thing in her mouth? She really wanted him to feel good too… Maybe if she had a few more weeks of training her throat underneath her belt, Carmi would be less hesitant.

‘Well… I’ve got to see this through. I’m not backing down now.’ Carmi thought to herself.  She was NOT going to go another day without dick. ‘I wanted to fuck Z, so I’m gonna fuck Z.’

Using just one hand and a whole bunch of lust filled courage, Carmi started to stroke him and palmed the demon’s cock as pre-cum dripped out, running in sticky ribbons alongside the veins of his shaft. Her cameo patterned off-shoulder dress had exposed her large chest, and the bottom of it had begun to ride up her thighs, revealing her wet panties. Even though the thought of Z shooting a nice and large load of hot cum onto her heated flesh made her hornier than she’d like to admit, Carmi did mean what she had said earlier. 

She always cleaned up any mess that she made.

Carmi slowly let her half-lidded eyes fall shut as she parted her plump lips so that she could kiss the head of Z’s hardening cock. 

Hearing the demon take a sharp intake of breath, she began to lovingly pepper small kisses all around the tip. Her steady wanting had quickly evolved into a lustful ache. Carmi wanted to take his hardened shaft in her mouth and feel him slide down her throat. How would it feel to have Z make her jaw ache and her dark eyes water? To feel the shake of his thighs, to hear his moans when he filled her mouth? The heavyset woman was very eager to find out. 

Once Carmi was sure that she had smooched every single bit of the fiend that she could see, she opened her mouth a little wider and sucked on his leaking tip. Rubbing her tongue across his sensitive head, Carmi could hear a stuttering gasp once again catch in Z’s throat. Her tongue licked a hot stripe over their slit as her dark hands began to pump his cock.  

“Thaaaat’s it Dove.” Z rasped out. The larger woman could feel the hand cradling her head tense tightly, sharp nails touching her scalp. “Go on, open up your throat for me.”

Resuming her task with renewed vigor, the eager woman began to run her hot tongue all over his throbbing shaft, licking and slurping at his cock. Then she began to sweep with long moist strokes as she sped up her hands. Lavishing his dick with eager attention, the more effort Carmi put into her blowjob, the hungrier she became. While she was excited for the demon to shoot cum in her mouth, Carmi was in no real hurry as she was pleasantly enjoying the experience of sucking Z off underneath the table.

“Aww, look at you go.” Z practically cooed through the breathless groans of pleasure. ”Such a good human. My good human.”

The excitement from having Z praise her had her body shivering from the anticipation, and her mouth felt just as hot as her clit. She focused on the heat of his stomach, the faint taste of his skin. The scent of smoke and whiskey to spur her on. Pressing her lips against the hairy base of his shaft, the woman could feel his cock oozing precum all the way down her hungry throat and Carmi moaned, the vibrations of her muffled cries had Z becoming louder, groaning in pleasure. His warm hands reached out to her face and stroked it tenderly, lovingly , as Carmi looked up at him, tears welling up from her dark eyes.

“Fuck…! Your mouth feels so damn good sweetheart.” Z was practically panting at this point. “You’re trying so hard to get me all the way down…”

At this point, Z had taken a more… active role. Grabbing her head to guide her mouth on his cock, Carmi simply followed the demon’s lead, licking and sucking as they tangled their claws in her muti-colored hair. Slowly and steadily, Z began to guide her head up and down until he was gently face fucking her, using Carmi’s mouth as nothing more than a glorified fleshlight.

And something about that turned her the hell on.

Carmi wanted Z to use her to reach his own orgasm. She wanted him to throw his head back and shamelessly moan as he emptied himself in her mouth. But most of all, Carmi wanted Z to stroke her face in the same loving manner he had done so before, all while staring down at her with the loveliest pair of heated eyes she had ever seen.     

Carmi shuttered, waves of pure lust raced through her heated body as Z began to speed up his pace. His thrusting became more erratic and wild, body tensing up and the woman trembled in anticipation as much as the demon did. Z’s release was rapidly approaching and she couldn’t wait to finally taste him. Following his lead, Carmi began to pump and suck to match his tempo, her soft lips were slick with his pre-cum, making it easy for her to glide them up and down his shaft.

Z suddenly let out a choked curse as ropes of hot cum hit the back of her throat, Carmi stiffened and pushed down the urge to gag. As her lover continued to thrust his dick into her mouth, Carmi kept sucking voraciously as she gulped down everything their body provided. There was so much more than the woman expected, almost too much. But when the spurting seemed to slowly die down, Carmi practically nursed on the demon’s cock, milking out every last drop of their cum as used her hands to stroke his shaft.

She pulled her mouth away and his black and red cockhead bobbed up and down before her face. Carmi licked her lips and opened her mouth. She wanted to show him how she had drunk every single drop. 

“Did I do a good job?” Carmi asked with a slur in her voice, drunk on the taste of him. Of Z.

The demon was practically caressing her face. She leaned into his loving touch as Z pulled her up. Carmi had become entranced by the way their bodies moved so smoothly in sync. Placing one knee on each side of his legs, the woman slid on top of Z and sat herself snuggly onto his lap, right where she belonged. Through dark, half-lidded eyes, Carmi spread her thighs to encourage Z to have access. Her body was filled with both shame and arousal, and eager for more of his touch.

But Z had never felt shameful and wasn’t going to now, especially with how his human was practically moaning in his lap. Z grabbed her ass and guided Carmi flush against them, her chest to their and her legs parted just enough to straddle their hips. Pulling her in close, their slick tongues slid against each other, hot and insistent, before disappearing into the other’s mouth in a heated french kiss. Z bucked upward against her covered entrance, grinding their throbbing cock against the spot that was dripping wet.  

Carmi moaned into the kiss as she felt a rippling thrill run down through her belly and swirled in waves in her crotch. She could feel her engorged clit. The woman pitifully writhed her body in sync with Z’s, their hips moving against each other, allowing her to relish in the delicious friction. The persistent wet sounds of lips and tongues had left her pussy throbbing with desire and brain a scrambled mess. But she wanted more, no, she needed more.

“Z, I need you… Please?” Carmi tried to whimper as softly as she could. Squeezing Z’s hand before she intertwined with her own(or tried to anyway. She loved how small she felt when her body was near his), Carmi guided it between her breasts where the demon could feel her pulsating heart, slid it down below her quivering belly, and didn’t stop until his hot, black tipped hand was cupping her already dripping slit.

“After all this, of course you're soaked.” Z retorted. The demon didn't hesitate for a second as he pressed two fingers against Carmi’s swollen clit. “Nothing gets you off like being my personal little cum dump, hmmm?”

A jolt of pleasure shot through her body as the demon rubbed her heated mound with their fingers and restless movements, bringing forth a delicious, pulsing warmth into existence. Her body felt empty, as if she wanted something to plunge deep inside her core. As if the demon could read her mind, Carmi could feel Z’s hot fingers sliding down from her clit to the entrance of her hole, rubbing and teasing it before sinking two thin but long fingers in. Her juices were so plentiful that Z’s fingers slid in with ease. The palm of his hand slammed against her pussy, with juices dripping down onto his palm with each thrust.

Soft, pliant, and imbued with a sense of lust and desperation, the two kissed the other over and over with growing wetness and force. Breaking one of their heated kiss left Carmi whining at the loss of contact. Z kept one large and heated hand on her thick waist with the other fingerbanging her. The demon, forward as ever, left an open mouthed kiss to her collarbone and began to suck, most likely intending to leave a bruise. Carmi let out another breathy sigh.

“Z… Can we go back to your place…?” Carmi whispered in his ear, praying that she wouldn’t have to have their first time together on a bar table. Not because she was embarrassed, but more so the thing looked uncomfortable to get fucked on. “I don’t want anyone else to see me like this except you.” She trailed her lips on the edge of his helix before biting it for good measure.

Z muttered a “c’mere” underneath their breath as they grabbed her thighs and picked her up like she weighed nothing, holding her in a way that kept her legs spread wide. Despite not wanting to have a full-blown fucking session in the bar, Carmi couldn’t help herself and squeezed her legs, grinding her clit onto him. She could hear Z grunt in her ear. And for a single moment Carmi felt like she was completely weightless, clinging tightly onto her boyfriend for support as there was an inky blackness that surrounded them- 

The pair of lovers landed softly onto Z’s bed.

There was unmistakable lust in every movement, every flinch, every twitch to their bodies. She moaned and pressed into him more. No matter how close the demon was, would it ever be enough? Carmi wanted to not only hold Z, but to have him bind himself to her soul. The woman wanted to have them intertwine themselves so intensely that they could not ever part, not without losing something integral.

When it was clear he was going to kiss her once more, Carmi didn’t resist. Kissing him back just as passionately, Carmi could barely remember the two throwing their clothes off. Every time they broke apart so Carmi could intake air, another piece of clothing would haphazardly be thrown to the side. She did spot the demon pocketing her thoroughly soaked panties which drove her wild. She’d have to remember to see which ones Z liked the best.

It didn’t take long for the lovers to be completely naked. A tantalizing combination of excitement and arousal pumped through her body. It was really happening, was she really about to have sex with her boyfriend? Carmi didn’t know and for once in her life, she didn’t care either. All Z had to do was lovingly stroke her face and whisper her name with that honey sweet voice of his, and she would fold in an instant. Carmi wanted to feel him, to taste him. To experience the dizzying rollercoaster that was Z with all of his ups and downs.

Carmi’s world shrank to just Z’s embrace as once again, their lips found each other, soft, pliant, and imbued with a sense of lust and desperation. Z eagerly ran his tongue over Carmi’s mouth and vice versa as the two lovers melted into a puddle of needy lust. Moving purely on instinct, Carmi allowed the demon to wrap his warm arms around her soft body and guide her down into the mattress, deepening the kiss while his hand roamed down her arching back. She hooked her thick legs around his hips and locked her ankles, pushing and grinding her crotch against his. He was already rock hard. Carmi could feel it.

‘More.’ Carmi wanted to beg him, her own mind clouded by a sexual fog. Months of pent-up lust had caught flame and was now threatening to boil over. ‘Give me more…!’

But Carmi couldn’t talk. Z was tasting her tongue, licking her lips, and drinking in all of the tiny sounds of pleasure she mewled out. Carmi’s long, black nails dug into his muscular shoulders, threatening to draw blood. They were in their own world and Carmi never wanted to leave it.

Z began to move from her plump lips to her exposed neck, alternating between kisses and nips all the way down until he reached her breasts. He rolled his tongue around them, teasing and sucking the tip of her nipples. They hardened inside his mouth and Z pinched the other one with his finger as Carmi cried out his name again in excitement. Sinking lower, the demon left a trail of kisses and sharp nips down her stomach until he left one directly above her smoldering mound. As Z parted her pillowy thighs, they lowered their head and hungrily gazed down at her leaking slit. Carmi could feel the air as it was sucked in by Z.

Was he… was he smelling her?

He groaned and kept his nose buried against her soaping entrance for a few more moments before he apparently found what he was looking for. Pulling at her dripping folds, the demon spread her pussy wide open with his black tipped fingers, revealing the vulnerable flesh of her throbbing clit. Carmi was amazed at how soft the demon’s lips were as she received a tender kiss to her overheated flesh and then a rough lick with the flat of his tongue that had left her whining for more. 

She was starting to really squirm at this point. Trying her best to keep her eyes on the demon feasting between her legs, Carmi involuntarily throwed her head back in pure, cardinal bliss with a full-throated moan when Z gave her throbbing bud a nice, rough lick. Just like Carmi had suspected, Z felt much better than most of the toys she owned. If this was how good sex felt when they were just using his tongue, Carmi couldn’t wait for the main course.

“S-Shit…! Oh God, Z, your tongue …” She panted out.

Carmi thighs clamped around his head as Z continued their assault.

She grinded herself against his face, shamelessly thrusting into his hot mouth. Z switched between giving Carmi fast attention to her engorged bud, and then slowly fucking her with his dexterous tongue in her clenching hole. The demon fervently drunk up any juices Carmi’s body provided, greedily slurping up every single drop like it was the most exquisite thing he had ever tasted. The sounds were lewd and filthy, and did nothing but bring her closer to the edge.

‘Fuck.’ Carmi cursed at Z in her head. The fiend’s oral was making her release noises that no one had made her cry out before. ‘Stupid demon, with his stupid good-looks and his stupidly long tongue-’

“Ahhha-AH!” Carmi’s body curled at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. It seemed that Z’s tongue had found that oh-so-sensitive spot that resided deep within her cunt. She wrapped one hand around one of his red tipped horns and fisted a handful of the demon’s soft locks with the other, as if to gain a sense of control she knew she didn’t have. As she clung onto his horns with her fingers roughly tangled in his wild locks, her hips began to pump. The young woman was quivering and drenching her lover’s maw, grinding her crotch against Z’s hot mouth. 

“Z-Z ! Sl-Ah, AH! Slow down! PLEASE!” Carmi finally managed to let out a high-pitched panting wheeze, but Z made no move to listen to her request. In fact, the demon began to eat her out even faster, devouring her with a vigor unmatched from any of her previous lovers. The woman began to wither and buck to escape the unrelenting pleasure but Z firmly held her in place no matter how hard she tried to escape his grasp. He held on to her hips as she bucked against him, back arching uncontrollably. She continued to let out a mixture of whimpers, moans and pleads that ended in tear-streaked crying as Carmi struggled to keep her head raised enough to watch Z practically make out with her sopping wet mound. Carmi could feel his hot, forked tongue abusing her g-spot, thrusting his tongue in and out of his tight slit, making her clench and tremble in Z’s mouth. She could feel her orgasm approaching closer and closer until the demon suddenly stopped the oral assault on her body.

“Hu-wha..?”  

“You want to tell me who was the one who had you so flustered, Dove?” Z asked with a smirk, but there was no mirth within his eyes. Carmi nearly hit the roof. Was he really asking this now? Couldn’t he have at least finished eating his plate before giving her a random interrogation? 

“I already told you Z, I-I wasn’t thinking about anyone!” Carmi tried to protest, attempting to close her legs. Z forced her dark thighs apart with ease, as they were much stronger than a human could ever hope to be. Carmi hated to admit to herself how hot it was that he could manhandle her like that.

“It’s no use lying to me Dove.” He replied in a singsong voice. Carmi did NOT feel like explaining how Z’s voice nearly made her bust a nut in the bar. The fiend already had so much power over her, they didn't need anymore ammo to bully her with. Besides, what if he found it more creepy than flattering?

“I-I wasn’t thinking about anyone you s-should worry a-about..!” It was technically the truth. But Carmi could see that her vague answer did nothing to placate her lover.

“Fine Dove. If it’s a game you want, it’s a game you’ll get.” Z said, their smirk turned into a downright sadistic grin, their smile showing off his dangerously sharp teeth. Carmi didn’t think she liked where this was going. “Let’s see how long you can last until you’re begging me to let you cum.”  

And he was true to his word. Twice more did Z bring her close to the edge, and twice more did Z deny Carmi release. By the end of his third denial, Carmi had been reduced to a teary, sweaty mess. This was no longer a dream. This was a nightmare.

“Do you want to be a good girl and give me an answer?” Z smugly asked like the little fucking shit he was. This was the guy who had a claim of her mind, body and soul?

“Not. Happening.” Carmi gritted out through clenched teeth.  

Seemingly deciding to change tactics, Z began to push Carmi’s legs closer to her chest, bending her in-half until she felt like a pretzel. 

“I could devour you whole,” Z says gently, and Carmi could feel the heat of his words sinking into her bending body. “And I'd make it so good for you. Won't you let me, sweetheart? You just need to tell me the truth.”

Carmi cursed underneath her breath as she shook her head, hips involuntarily jerking into his touch. Fuck, should she just tell them? She wanted to, but the fear of rejection wrapped their hands around her throat and slicened her. It’d be fine right? Z had to give in at some point.

His fat tip drooled pre-cum and he took it one hand to slap it against Carmi’s already sensitive mound. She flinched at the feeling. The fiend nudged his cock against her throbbing clit once, twice, gathering her leaking juices before dragging it down to the very spot where he could have sunken himself into her warmth.

“Fuck, you're so wet.” Z groaned as they lined themselves up against her entrance. Carmi could feel him using the head of his shaft to part her labia. “When I rub the head of my cock along your slit, it's completely drenched. I bet I could just slide it right in-”

Carmi could feel the stretch, she could feel every throb, every vein, all his thickness filling her. Even her cunt started to squeeze his cock’s head like it was made for this and this alone. But before Z could penetrate her too deep, give her something that she could clench down on, Z would pull himself out.

“Why did you pull out?” Carmi breathlessly whined. “You felt so good …” Even though Z’s hardened cock was resting on her throbbing mound, She could swear she felt it twitch as a response to the question. The heat of their combined lust made her head spin. Holy shit, she was so sensitive that Carmi couldn’t tell if she was going to pass out or cum so hard that she would see heaven. She was leaning towards the former. Z must have sensed that, as he delivered a sharp bite to the back of her leg, determined to keep his human’s attention on them. The nip wasn’t necessarily painful. No, all it did was bring forth a different type of feeling within her body. 

Z wasn’t far enough inside to be able to properly fuck Carmi yet, he’d start to move his hips, giving shallow thrusts as he pulled out slightly and sank himself right back in. The demon was only using his thick cockhead to stimulate her for now, giving her a taste of what she could have if Carmi gave into their demands. And much like receiving a sip of water while abandoned in a desert, the feeling had only been a brief moment of pleasure that, once passed, only left the woman craving more for more. However, with the combination of the fiend’s wandering hands, Carmi was sure that this was the closest she’d been to Hell. Z’s hands, large enough to greedily grab at her breast, pinching and twisting them. The woman wanted to break down in tears, everything felt simultaneously too much and not enough. Z gave her pleasure but never enough to satisfy her, to give her release from the torture of being denied another toe-curling orgasm. Z continued their teasing assault for what felt like hours , until Carmi finally cried out in defeat. 

“It was you!” 

Immediately, the woman could feel Z’s hands freeze up. She could feel the blood rushing to her face as Carmi  tried to remember how to use her mouth and hurriedly spit out an explanation. 

“It’s just that your voice sounds so nice and sometimes when I hear it, I start to think about you saying certain things and I know it’s weird, but sometimes you sound territorial and it, you, sound so good and I…” Her voice got smaller and smaller with each word when she realized what she had confessed to the demon who’s cock was still inside her. “I really… like… hearing it…”

Silence. That was all Carmi heard.

Instantly, she felt a freezing pit drop into her stomach. Holy hell, she fucked up. Oh, she fucked up bad. Why did she say that? Shit. Shit. Shit . Oh, this was it. Z was gonna call her a creepy weirdo, they would never talk to her again and she be left alone-

“You… like my voice…?” Z asked incredulously.

Carmi hesitantly removed her dark hands from her face, peaking at them to see the fiend with his jaw dropped. Z had looked completely gob smacked, as if he would have never in a million years guessed that it was his voice that got her hot and heavy back in the bar. Carmi nodded. 

“Yeah… But that’s not it. Every single time you flirt, or when you show that I can trust you , or e-even when you smile…” Carmi practically murmured. This felt too intense, too intimate , confessing her feelings like this. “Every single part of you drives me insane, Z. Is that really so hard to believe…?” 

“I could feel you getting anxious every time I tried to initiate things, so I assumed that you were too scared of me. Besides,” Z shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Who would ever trust a demon? You’d have to be insane.” 

“I don’t trust other demons. I trust you Z.” She confessed. She had finally spilled everything out and Carmi could feel her face grow hot from not only being exposed physically, but emotionally as well. Oh God, she was rambling again. “And like you. Like, a lot. A concerning amount even-”

Z cut her off with a deep kiss. Immediately, whatever thoughts plagued her mind dissipated when their lips touched. Carmi looked at him with a dazed, lovesick expression as Z pushed her onto her back. How was he always able to calm her down so easily…? Was this what it was like to be in love?                                                                                                        

“Hmm…? Is that right? My voice alone is all it takes for my human to get all worked up…” Once again, Carmi could feel the heat behind his words, the feeling running down her spine and making her walls twitch. 

“Ugh, stop!” Carmi threw a pillow over her head. She wasn’t in love anymore. She was going to strangle him with her bare hands instead. “I knew you were gonna be like this!”

“Stop? How can I?” Z once again grabbed her, their lips meeting once again. She practically moaned as her lover slid his tongue against hers, feeling a rush of pleasure pump throughout her body. There were so many things Carmi wanted Z to do to her, and she to him . “Especially with the way your body is reacting .”

“Z…” The intimate kisses had riled her up all over again. She couldn’t and wouldn’t deny anymore. She was willing to beg for it at this point, shame and insecurities be damned. “Please…!”

“Go on,” Z purred as his tail swissed. His voice had switched from that of a lover to one of a predator that has caught its prey, playing with it to indulge their own sick desires. The cock inside her responded immediately with another pulse. Carmi could feel it. Was Z…  was he fucking getting excited about hearing her beg for it? For him? “All you have to do is ask. Nicely. ”

Her pussy was like a smoldering ember between her pillowy thighs and Carmi nearly let out a sob, tears practically streaming down her face. “Please, please, please fuck me Z. I need to feel you.”

Carmi winced as her lover licked the falling tears from her cheeks as if they were droplets of an expensive spiced wine. Satisfied with her desperate pleads, her lover crawled back on top of her, their combined body weight sinking her into the mattress. The woman could feel her lover kissing her face and neck, sucking on the bite marks they'd left earlier. While they would disappear by the morning, Z would not. Sharp nails sunk into his arms as her boyfriend pushed himself deeper and they let out a moan, and grunt mixed into one. Her heated walls tightened around him reflexively, and she waited for the rest of that delicious stretch.

“Look at you, taking me like you were born for it.” His thrusts were still somewhat shallow, Carmi knew she wasn't taking him all the way, not yet. But her twitching hole was starting to adjust itself to accommodate the great bulk of his shaft as Z pushed himself in again and managed to slowly fuck in and out of her eager entrance. “And to think you’ve wanted this the entire time. You little tease.”

Z’s cock was much thicker than his tongue, less flexible but it filled her up so much better, a sturdy hardness that she could finally clench around so nicely. Carmi almost sobbed as Z withdrew, pulling his long, delicious cock almost completely out. He returned immediately when she whined from the loss. Z felt so good , so warm and so, so big … he was fulfilling her entirely, every bit of Carmi that was empty, every little space that needed his heat was now his and stuffed to the brim.  

“I'm not some- I wasn’t-!" Carmi’s already weak argument ended in a loud gasp as Z reminded her who she belonged to with another good, deep thrust.

“Fuck… I can feel you tightening up, you’re- oh hells, trying to suck me in deeper-”

“Z-Z… ohgod oh fuck–!” Carmi shut her eyes from the intense pleasure, but Z was having none of it. He sunk his dagger like fangs into her leg once again, making sure she was watching his every move.

“Don't you dare look away sweetheart. Keep your eyes on me, just like that…” Carmi shuttered from a mixture of the pleasure of finally being fucked. Z’s honey sweet voice as he mumbled obscenities into her ears, reveling in her tightness, and the way her body fit so perfectly against his. Carmi gasped and cried out from his sudden depth as his cock rutted against a spot that left her absolutely writhing . “I want to see your face when I make you cum.”

Her body felt so weak, twitching, vulnerable and at the mercy to whatever the fiend desired. She tried in vain to hold back her whimpers, but they slipped out of her throat anyway, in a long and constant stream of cries that grew louder and more desperate as Z continued to fuck her. Carmi had tried to pull away from the demon, but she was in no position to do so. She could sense his hungry gaze as Z leaned in close, grinding his hips against hers. Fuck, Carmi could feel every single inch of his throbbing cock inside her spasming walls.

“Z-Z, I c-can’t…!”

“Oh, no, no Dove. You can. I barely even need to grab your hips, your body wouldn't let me go if I tried…” His tail began to rub on her engorged clit and Carmi gave another frantic series of moans from the stimulation. She was practically drowning in pleasure. “Look how badly you want this, sweetheart. Go on, squeeze me tighter. Thaaat’s it Carmi. Good girl.”

Carmi, for her part, could scarcely formulate a coherent thought aside from ‘yes, yes, yes…!’ . She'd put up so many walls, and having them all crumble at once was more than she could really process. She'd been terrified of ruining her relationship with Z, but now, she wanted to kick herself for not giving in and confessing how she felt sooner. Her lover rocked her back to the edge once more. Now Z was fucking his whole massive cock into her pussy with every lunge, burying the shaft so deep that his balls were slapping on her ass. Letting out high pitched whimpers as Z slid his painfully hard cock against a dangerously tender spot, Carmi genuinely couldn’t tell if his loud moaning made the experience better or worse. Z didn’t even try to be quiet, and it was nearly driving her to insanity.

Carmi squealed, breaking away from the kiss, as Z started to fuck Carmi with a frenzy that he’d held back until that moment, spurred on by her cries. The pressure was increasing, more and more.

“Oh Z-FUCK! I’m, I’m…!”

Carmi didn’t even have the chance to prepare herself before her orgasm hit her, juices gushing from her soaked pussy, coating Z in her arousal. Her back arched as her body spasmed while Z continued to fuck Carmi through her high for as long as it lasted. Her pulsating cunt slowly eased itself, leaving behind an overwhelming sensation that was strong enough to cause her legs to twitch. Z could feel her velvety walls clench around him as Carmi’s orgasm left her cunt drooling and pulsing with desire.

Even though she was sensitive from cumming, Z still rutted his fat cock in the whimpering woman. The feeling made her repeatedly squeal with every thrust with desire, surprise, even a little sting of pain. Carmi let out a particularly loud gasping wail when she felt for the first time a rush of hot, thick cum deep inside her. The pleasure was intense and overwhelming as the demon continued thrusted with spurt after spurt of hot cum, moaning as he practically emptied himself in her cunt. Once he was finished, she could see how the demon’s body trembled with the aftershocks of his release, still feeling the remnants of pleasure that washed over them.

Carmi wiggled her shaking legs from under Z and wrapped them around his chest. Maybe it was due to the orgasm he had just had, or maybe he was simply curious on what Carmi planned to do. Either way of thinking led to the same result. With Carmi straddling the demon underneath her. An excitement began to grow in her and she shifted her position so that the growing bulge pressed into her leaking entrance.

“Do you really not know what you do to me…?” Carmi grabbed hold of the length of his cock and rubbed her freshly filled pussy, teasing him. The cock had already become hard again, the head of it entering her. Z was panting at this point, more precum oozing from the tip to lubricate her already wet hole as Carmi began to slowly drop her full weight into his lap, enjoying the sensation of grinding his cock inside her. Taking in a deep breath, the woman fully sank onto him, feeling Z’s pulsating cock inside her once more. She planted her soft hands firmly on his toned torso to help steady her as she huffed and moaned. 

“W-why would I even think about anyone else?” She raised herself up until only his sensitive, hard tip rubbed against her heat and then slammed herself down hard once more.

“Ah!  Ahn!  Ahh-mphf!”  Carmi gasped and huffed delightedly each time she slammed her wide hips down. She could feel her pussy clamp down on Z, trying to keep the demon inside her as all she could do was moan, pant, and cry. The emotions that weld up inside of Carmi were so intense, that it was dizzying. She felt almost lightheaded, with nothing but the feeling of Z’s pulsating cock keeping her grounded. Fuck, why had she been holding back all this time?

“How can I-ngh! Even think of fucking any-Ah… Ah! One else?” Carmi could barely whine out her question. She was going to pound Z into the mattress and milk him for all he was worth, even if it was the last thing she was going to do. “All I think about is you , Z!”

Carmi’s hips began to ride Z’s cock in a frantic, almost frenzied pace and she could hear the absolutely filthy noises their bodies made together, a reminder of just how much Carmi desperately wanted to feel Z’s cum inside her body once more. The sounds of her pleasure reverberating through the room as she was riding him so hard that the bed bounced alongside her. From her plump lips began to spill every single lustful and downright depraved thought she had about the demon in the past few weeks. She professed how handsome he was, how much she desired him, and how much she couldn’t stop thinking about him.��She couldn’t help nor even stop herself. It was as if her body had a mind of its own and decided that a confession of her sinful desires while bouncing on Z’s cock was the best course of action.   

“When we were in that bar,” Carmi dragged her sharp nail on his chest, tracing the tattooed sigil and giving Z a devious smile. She really wanted to savor the feeling of the demon’s twitching cock inside her. Her cunt was aching and sensitive, but she didn’t care as Carmi was overcome by the freedom of her giving into her lust. She could cry out Z’s name, could whimper for his cock, could thrash and moan and sob and Carmi wanted to. God, she fucking wanted to. “All I could think about was how I wanted you to fuck me properly until I was stretched out, aching, and sore.”

Before Carmi would spill out anymore of her desires, bare anymore of her soul to him, Z had stuffed his neglected tail in her rambling mouth. She had bitten down on it. Hard.

Carmi immediately wanted to stop and check on the demon to make sure he wasn’t seriously hurt once she realized what she had done. Z may have been an immortal demon that could barely register pain, but Carmi could never forgive herself if she had harmed her lover, accident or not.

She would have done that, had Z not given out the most vocal and sluttiest moan Carmi had ever heard in her life, as he arched his back in pure, cardinal ecstasy.

“Ngh, that feels so good! Do that again, Dove! Harder! ”

Z began to loudly beg and whimper for her, stuttering Carmi’s name in an incoherent babble as they furiously pumped their hips to meet her own brutal pace. His shaft glided in and out of her sweet cunt easily due to the thick load he’d already flooded her with. The louder and more desperate Z got, the more times she would simply stop and squeeze his throbbing cock with her velvety walls, denying him release as the demon had done to her. She wanted to see him weak and whimpering. That would be a lovely sight to behold. 

“Ahh f-fuck Dove! Keep riding me like that! ”

“I c-can’t stop, oh fuck, you feel so–!” Carmi felt the tingling sensation in her lower stomach. Z’s thick, creamy load once again flooded her cunt, and Carmi let out a pitiful, full body keen at the feeling of being so full, pumped so completely. Perverted sounds of pleasure filled the room as the two lovers rode out their collective orgasms together in a scene that was as passionate as it was deprived. Finally, when the last spasm from his cock died out, Z let out a low moan and went into a full body shudder.

By the time she was done riding him, Carmi was unable to do anything but lay upon his warm chest, feeling limp and satisfied as she listened to his racing heartbeat. Her mound still tingled in the aftermath of her climax. She could feel Z’s cum drip sluggishly out of her abused hole and down her thigh. Carmi was exhausted, but also happy and confusingly, dizzyingly in love.

‘I could stay like this forever.’ She thought to herself as she nuzzled the crook of Z’s neck. She breathed in his scent. ‘I wouldn’t mind it. Not one bit.’ The steady beating of Z’s heart, the feel of his caring embrace and snuggling into the warmth the demon’s body provided… Yes, Carmi could stay like this forever and she wouldn’t have blinked an eye. 

But unfortunately, the world had never been kind to Carmi and wasn’t going to start now.

The dark-skinned woman let out an embarrassingly loud and weird sounding yelp as she suddenly found herself on her back. Before Carmi even had a chance to make sense of what was happening, Z was already climbing on top of her body, spreading her legs and looking down at her sweating and flustered form. Though she could not see his eyes, Carmi could feel the heat of their gaze trail hungerly across her body. 

“Uhh… Z?” She nervously giggled, wondering what was going on. “What are you…?”

“Oh, I’m going to make sure that I fulfill every single one of your fantasies tonight to make up for lost time.” Carmi stared up at the demonic entity between her thighs. She could already tell based upon his excited, almost manic smile and unhinged personality, that Z was not kidding.

“Don’t worry Dove,” They practically purred, a toothy grin spreading across their face. Z settled themselves right in between Carmi’s legs, hiking her warm, soft thighs around his waist. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember how to speak, and I’ll keep fucking you until you pass out. Even then, I won't stop. I’m not one to get tired easily , after all,”

Z pressed such a gentle and deceptively innocent kiss on her mouth, that it made Carmi instantly relax and nearly forget the position she was(and going to be) in.

“Oh, me and my big, stupid, horny mouth.’ Carmi thought, already resigning herself to her fate. ‘Well, it was nice being able to walk when I could...’

[btsgotjams27]

keeping up appearances | pjm

summary: When you move back to New York, you must keep up appearances when you see your ex-boyfriend.

✨ title: keeping up appearances | ✨ pairing: jimin x f!reader ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni | ✨ word count: 7.5k ✨ genre/au: angst, light smut(?) | exes to ??, new year's eve ✨ warnings: language, alcohol consumption, reader gets tipsy, masturbation (f) but she doesn’t come, a memory of jimin (touching, kissing, marking, fingering, breast/nipple play), brief mention of fuck buddy!namjoon, did i mention angst?? ✨ playlist ✨ a/n: i've always wanted to write a fic based on NIKI's 'La La Lost You', so it's finally here. i hope you all enjoy it. thank you to @purplewhalewrites and @amethystwritesbts for being my betas. and a huge shoutout to @monimonimoon/@moni-logues for the brainstorming sesh and co-writing a part of this! also check out, 'the comeback' 👀 from them.

The blue circle around the date of December 21st began taunting you the more you stared at it. You finally made the hard decision of leaving Los Angeles after two years. Like every naïve person who moves to Hollywood, you placed all of your hopes and dreams into a job. However, that job turned out to be exactly like your previous one.

On the first day of the new job, you excitedly brought your new laptop gifted by your parents. You were ready to start brainstorming and pitching ideas for potential storylines and arcs. Then a staff writer asked why you were sitting in their seat. That's when you realized you were an intern, made to bring coffee and make copies for the writers.

"Keep working hard, and you'll move up, we promise," said one of the head writers on the show.

But empty promises weren't going to get you where you wanted. Two years later, you had only moved up to become a writing assistant and, at times, were still asked to bring coffee and grab lunch.

Haley, your housemate, quietly knocked on your door, leaning against the threshold. "Are you excited to be going back home?" She tried her best to hold it together because she had grown fond of you.

You didn't answer right away because you weren't. Having to go home as a complete and utter failure was the last thing you wanted. You were supposed to be a big shot - the girl who chased after their dreams and made them come true. You even left the man you loved to pursue your career. But you would have to chuck up the courage and face reality. Life in LA wasn't working out for you.

"I guess," you shrugged, folding your shirt before tossing it in your suitcase.

"Aren't you excited to see Jimin?" Haley asked. She was a West Coast girl who dreamed of the Big Apple and was always nosy about your previous life, especially when she saw the photo of Jimin hidden in your sock drawer.

Park Jimin. You thought about him too many times to count, wondered how he was doing, if he had moved on and found a new girlfriend. You didn't expect him to stay hung up on you, and the breakup had left you in shambles.

When you first arrived in California, you couldn't sleep and didn't have an appetite. You had no friends and had to figure everything out alone without help. Coming to LA was a fucking shit show. Sometimes you just wanted to pack your bags and go home, maybe grovel and beg for Jimin's forgiveness. But you made such a big fuss about this being a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you couldn't pass up, only to find out you gave up being with Jimin for nothing.

"I don't think he'd want to see me. I already fucked up his life once."

Honestly, would anyone be excited to see an ex again? You guessed you'd try one-upping each other to see who was doing better.

A buzz from your phone disrupted your thought. You picked up to see it was your friend, Taehyung.

Taetae 2:41 PM

You're coming to my New Year's Party, right?

A party was the last thing on your mind. You hadn't told anyone you were moving back. The only people who knew of your move were your family and Taehyung, and you didn't want to announce your letdown.

You 2:45 PM

Do I have to?

Taetae 2:46 PM

Yes! You've never missed my parties, minus the years you were gone.

"Who's that?" Haley asked, peering from far away.

You sighed, plopping on the bed and staring at Taehyung's text. "An old friend is asking me to go to a party when I get back." You lay there trying to think of an excuse to bail, but you knew you'd never hear the end of it from him.

Taetae 2:50 PM

Guess I gotta tell everyone you're moving back.

You 2:51 PM

Goddamnit, Kim Taehyung! When I see you, I will hug you and then strangle you!

Taetae 2:52 PM

Be on time. Can't wait to see you.

You groaned, throwing your phone off to the side.

"Guess you're going to the party?" Haley inquired.

"Can I just crawl into a hole and never come out?" you asked before grabbing your pillow and screaming into it. You'd rather be doing anything than face all of your old friends, and you just knew Jimin would be there too.

When you arrived in New York, hanging out with your family kept your mind off the upcoming New Year's Eve Party. Your parents were glad to have you back home and even teased you about paying rent since you were staying in your old room, but all you did was roll your eyes at their suggestion.

Of course, your days back in New York wouldn’t be complete without Taehyung constantly bombarding you, making sure you were coming to his grand ol’ party. On Christmas Eve, you received a call from him and you picked up but all you heard on the other line were high pitched whimpers and deep groans.

“Shit–Can’t believe I’m fucking Chelsea in Chelsea.”

You gasped, mouth agape at what you were hearing. “Kim Taehyung, why the fuck are you calling me when you’re fucking?!” you yelled into your phone before hitting the end button.

Ten minutes later, you receive a text.

Taetae 10:27 PM

Sorry about earlier. Dunno how that happened. Butt dial or something…

You slightly threw up in your mouth thinking about Taehyung’s naked ass touching his phone.

You 10:30 PM

🙄 Finished that quickly? Couldn’t keep your Chelsea in Chelsea happy huh?

Taetae 10:31 PM

I’ll have you know that we were going at it for two hours already.

You 10:33 PM

🤮 Please keep those details to yourself. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.

Taetae 10:35 PM

You still coming to my party right?

You 10:37 PM

Not after you butt dialed me while you’re having sex. You’re disgusting.

Taetae 10:38 PM

Guess I’ll just tell Jimin you moved back.

You huffed, turning to your side, furiously texting back.

You 10:40 PM

How long are you going to hold that over me?

Taetae 10:41 PM

Until you come clean 😄 See you on New Years!

Christmas had gone by, and it was filled with family and lots and lots of food. Your mother insisted on stuffing your belly to the brim. She reasoned that you probably didn't have a proper home-cooked meal when you lived in LA – which was accurate.

"Have you seen Jimin yet?" your mother asked while unhooking the ornament from the Christmas tree, hardly paying attention to the expression on your face.

You shook your head, not wanting to go into further detail.

"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you," she said sweetly. She knew how much the two of you loved each other, and even she was heartbroken when she heard about the breakup.

This conversation was reminiscent of the one with Haley before you left. No, you didn't think Jimin would be glad to see you, and you weren't keen on seeing him either. Taehyung mentioned in a text that he was seeing someone and figured you should have a heads-up to prepare if he brought her to the party. So, if you were to see Jimin at the party, you'd most likely see his girlfriend too, which made your heart sink a little because that would mean that he was doing well in love and probably in life.

Throughout your time on the West Coast, you often thought about Jimin, wondered how he was doing, and if he was achieving his dreams. You even tried searching for his username on all socials. But, you figured he blocked you because there were no traces of him on the internet save for the photos here and there that Taehyung would post. That's how you knew how much you hurt him.

"I always liked Jimin," your mother continued, but you didn't respond again. "If I thought you would marry anyone, it'd be him."

You groaned at her comment. "Mom, can you stop, please?"

Everything was about Jimin. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. You wished you could erase the name from all traces of your life, but it was nearly impossible. Being back in New York meant you were bound to step back into some old habits and routines, revisit old friends, and hell, you even toy with the idea of rekindling things with Jimin, but you sure weren't going to be a homewrecker.

"I'm sorry. I know it's a sore subject for you, but it's been two years since you last saw him. It's possible that he's forgiven you. And who wouldn't forgive this pretty face?" Your mother put down the last ornament and cupped your cheeks, the pads of her thumb gently caressing them.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. "No, mom, I'm sorry. I just--I feel so stupid, you know? I gave up my whole life, gave up Jimin for a pipe dream...and it turned out to be nothing like I had hoped for."

Your eyes were now glistening, tears threatening to fall. The small, shaky intakes of breaths building in your lungs finally found their release in a long extended puff.

"I should've stayed. If I stayed, things might have worked out differently for Jimin and me and my career." Tears began streaming down your face, and the things you wanted to say became hitched in your throat.

Your mother pulled you in for a hug, quietly shushing you and caressing your hair. "We don't know what would've happened if you stayed. But I just know that if you didn't go, you'd regret not finding out." She pulled away, hands still cupping both sides of your face, gazing into your teary eyes. "And as for Jimin, he'll come around. They always do," she grinned.

You hoped she was right, but you also weren't counting on it. You hadn't even forgiven yourself for leaving him.

Before you left, you had hauled everything from Jimin's place and stuffed it into your old room. You glared at the boxes piled up in the corner because you knew what lay in them: memories. Memories of you and Jimin. Memories that you didn't have the heart to toss–not yet. There was an urge to look through the boxes but you resisted.

As you lay in bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, you thought about what your mother said, 'He'll come around. They always do'. Except Jimin had clearly moved on, finding someone else to replace you. It's not like you expected him to stay single forever. Jimin's a catch; anyone would be lucky to have him by their side.

Your room was imprinted with memories of you and him - bits and pieces scattered throughout your walls, the floor, and the bed. Your mind fluttered to a distant memory of him slowly backing you up against your door.

His plush lips kissed you along your jawline, lightly marking your neck. His hand down your panties, slipping between your folds, telling you to stay quiet; otherwise, your parents would catch their precious daughter red-handed being finger fucked by her boyfriend. It was the second time he was having dinner with you and your parents, and he desperately wanted to see where you had lived out all of your teenage angst. He thought your room was pretty, but you writhing underneath while he pushed two fingers inside your cunt was the best view he could ever have.

You found yourself massaging your breast while the other slid past the waistline of your lace panties toward your sensitive bud, rubbing your clit in circles.

Jimin's fingers were pumping in and out of you, eliciting small moans and whimpers. He pulled down the top of your dress and bra, freeing your breast. He squeezed it before enclosing his mouth on your nipple, then alternated between sucking and flicking his tongue against your pebbled flesh.

Your fingers started overworking your clit, continuously rubbing quicker, your heart raced a million miles per second, your breath hitched in your throat, and your body helplessly squirmed underneath the covers.

"Fuck--" you whimpered against Jimin's mouth as he swallowed your moan, trying to keep you from outing yourself to your parents. Jimin pulled away, smiling at how fucked out you looked already. "'m gonna cum," you mumbled, words barely coherent.

Your half-lidded eyes peered at the angelic man before you, being anything but angelic - more of a devil if you should say so yourself. He grinned at how needy and desperate you were for his fingers. Normally, Jimin would be praising you, telling you how much of a good girl you were, but this time he was quiet, allowing himself to drink all of you in. Your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, head lulled back, slightly thudding against the door. The building pleasure was deep in your belly, begging to find its release as Jimin decided to add a third finger into your dripping cunt. And that's when the coiling tension finally--

A blaring siren from outside broke your line of concentration. You groaned in frustration right as you were on the cusp of coming. The moment was over because you probably shouldn't be thinking about Jimin anyway. But no one else was worthy enough to even think about. The few guys you slept with didn't come close to what you and Jimin had, and he ruined other men for you. But coming back to New York meant you would have traces of Park Jimin everywhere.

D-day had finally arrived. Your room looked like a tornado had ripped through your entire closet, because clothes were everywhere. You needed the perfect outfit for an LA gal coming back to 'visit.' You weren't sure how long you'd keep moving back to New York a secret, but you'd try for as long as possible.

As you stepped into the lobby of Taehyung's building, you checked your makeup and tugged down your sparkly sequin skirt. You figured nothing said 'glam' more than a sparkly skirt. You fixed a stray hair that was out of place before finally striding towards the elevator.

Your nerves hit you like a ton of bricks once you stood outside Taehyung's door. Your hands were so sweaty it was hard to get a good grip on the handle. You wiped your palm against your fuzzy white sweater, hoping it would help.

Music was already blaring, chattering, and laughter echoed throughout the apartment. You looked around, expecting to see some familiar faces, and were met with none other than your good friend, Kim Taehyung.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Taehyung smirked, pulling you in for a hug.

"Hi, Taetae," you muttered reluctantly, withdrawing from his embrace. "Looks like you're doing well with your modeling career." You stepped away to observe the industrial loft decorated with quirky artwork and figurines. At least someone was doing well for themselves, you thought.

"It's so good to have you back," he enunciated a bit too loud for your liking, making you slap his arm.

"Jeez, Tae, tell the whole fucking world," you spat at him. You weren't ready for anyone to know you were back. You cleared your throat before pulling Taehyung aside, away from wandering eyes and listening ears. You already caught a few glances and smiles when you entered the apartment. "If you happen to hear that I'm just visiting and am working on a movie with a big named director, can you go along with it?"

Taehyung stared blankly at your request. "You're kidding me, right? I'm not helping you with anything." He tore away from your grip, heading in the other direction.

You followed closely, stepping in front of him. "Please, Tae, just for tonight, and then half of these people will probably never see me again," you pleaded desperately.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine--but only if you take a shot with me," he raised his eyebrow, hoping you'd take the bait.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You're lucky 'cause I don't want to remember tonight," you said, knocking back the glass he handed you, grimacing as the liquid coated your throat. "Round two?"

After downing three tequila shots, you were ready to spill all your secrets to the next person who asked how you were doing. Drinking was never your strong suit, but it was the only thing on your itinerary tonight.

With another drink in your hand, you scanned the room, anticipating the one person you were trying to avoid. As you took a sip of your mixed drink, you looked up towards the door, and it was like the heavens opened up, and in walked your gorgeous, ethereal ex-boyfriend, Park Jimin. To your surprise, no one was attached to his hip, and a wave of relief flushed over you because God knows you were not ready to meet a girlfriend.

The butterflies in your stomach are begging to escape - indicating how anxious you were to see him. It almost felt like time had stopped just so the two of you could gaze at each other. You couldn't help but give Jimin the once-over. He looked as angelic as ever when he effortlessly waltzed over to you, beaming with the biggest smile you've seen on him. It was like no one else existed at this moment except for you and him.

When Jimin approached, the jitters within increased. He opened his arms up for a hug, your name leaving his lips, and honestly, you were surprised at how excited he seemed to see you. You were expecting the cold shoulder, the brush-off with how everything went down the two of you. There had been no contact since you'd left, so you wondered if Jimin being warm and friendly was just a ruse, and deep down inside, he actually despised your presence. What gave you the right to return to New York after all this time?

"Long time no see!" he said, wrapping his arms around you. "How have you been?"

Your eyes widened, arms tucked tightly underneath his with no way to hug him back, but again, his affection really threw you in for a loop. He couldn't see your awkward smile as he held you. When he finally let go, you were able to answer.

"Yeah, great! Good. I'm good." You loved that right off the bat; you were already lying to Jimin. You were hoping you had learned some acting skills from the actors you'd watch from time to time.

"How's LA treating you?"

Well, this was the big question of the night from everyone, wasn't it? Now was your chance to tell the truth, or tell a lie. Which one will it be?

You scanned his face, eyes seeking attention. Maybe he wanted someone else to chime in and break up the most awkward conversation the two of you ever held.

"Uh, yeah, it's great. Everything's going, uh, pretty well."

Lie it is, then. You could've told him the truth, but then Jimin might have felt victorious because life didn't go the way you wanted. He would have had the upper hand in this non-existent competition you had fabricated in your mind. You left him. And for what? Another dead-end intern job marketed as your dream job? God, you were a fucking idiot - still were sometimes. Maybe that's how you ended up living with your parents back home.

"But how are you?" you asked out of politeness. It was only courteous since he asked first. "How's New York?"

A part of you desired he would say what you didn't dare to say - the truth. Honestly, you anticipated he was doing a million times better than you. Jimin had everything going for him before you left. At least, that's what it looked like from your perspective. You hoped all his dreams could come true even if yours didn't. One of you deserved to be happy, and you'd rather it be him.

"New York is great, actually. I got accepted into the corps with ABT."

It was as you expected - Jimin was doing very well. The American Ballet Theatre? You were in shock, mouth agape for a few moments before you realized it had been too long before you said anything. Your mouth curved into a smile before you were finally able to speak. "Oh my god, Jimin, that's amazing," you said, opening up your arms this time to embrace him. This hug wasn't like the one before when he first saw you, and it was less touching - more refined and more civilized.

When you pulled away, all Jimin could do was smile. Maybe he was trying to be friendly and humble since you didn't elaborate on how 'well' you were doing in LA. You didn't want to go into detail about your life for fear of slipping through a lie.

"Anyway, I'm going to go get a drink, see if I can find Tae."

Whew. You thought you would have to be the one to come up with an excuse but thank God Jimin only just got here and needed a drink. You showed him yours and nodded as he turned away. A sigh of relief washed over you as you watched your ex-boyfriend walk away.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, making Jimin stop to turn back to look at you. "I'm really happy for you."

Jimin - One.

You - Zero.

Like you had hoped, at least one of you was doing well.

Your goal was to get hammered and avoid Jimin for the rest of the night. Maybe you could find a room to slip into or pretend to fall asleep in the corner. Anything was better than smiling until your cheeks hurt and mingling with people you didn't want to see.

"No fucking way. Is that who I think it is? My big Hollywood girl!" You turned to see an old friend, Quinn, nicknamed Quinnie by your friend group. She ran over, tightly embracing you. "How are you, babe?"

"Good...good," you tried to take a breath and gasped when she finally let go. Quinnie was a big personality, and you knew you'd need more than the half-empty drink in your hand to finish a conversation with her. You cleared your throat, beaming a fake smile at her. "How are you, Quinnie?"

"Oh, it's the same 'ole, same ' old with me! Let's talk about you," she said, dragging you down the hallway. It was quieter than the commotion in the living room and kitchen. "So come on, spill the tea! What big stars have you seen? Slept with?" she wiggled her brows, making you roll your eyes.

You hardly had time to sleep around, given the nature of the entertainment industry. Sure, you were invited to parties, but everyone always had a front or wanted something from you. It was hard to trust anyone. You may have had your fuck buddy, Namjoon, a music producer, but he was nothing more than that - someone to sleep with and release the stress of your job.

"Quinnie…you know I don't kiss and tell," you said with a sly smile, taking a sip of your almost empty cup.

"Okay fine. If there's no big-name star you slept with, what are you working on now? You can't have gone to LA for two years and not have something big lined up! Spill!" Quinn said with wide eyes, waiting for your answer.

You looked around, making sure no one could overhear because you didn't know how many lies and people you'd have to keep up with. The two of you were near the bathroom door but figured whoever was there probably couldn't hear anything due to the music. You leaned in, gesturing for her to come in closer.

"I'm so excited. Look, I'm really not supposed to actually tell anyone this, but this thing I'm working on now... It's with Lin-Manuel Miranda."

He was the one playwright and filmmaker you'd dreamt of working with, and with his new musical in the works, he was the first person that popped into your head. With how your life was going, you knew it was only a pipe dream.

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Quinn squealed, trying to keep her cool when someone passed by. The two of you glared at the person before Quinn turned back to you. "You're fucking kidding me! Can you get me on set or meet him? Please, please, please!"

You felt like shit after letting the lie roll off your tongue. It was too easy. Why was it so easy to do that? Who had you become after moving to California? Another person who put up a front like all those trying to make it in the entertainment industry? New Yorkers were supposed to be tough and tell you like it’s supposed to be, not be shallow and fake like every orange spray-tanned person in Hollywood.

Maybe a breath of fresh air would do you some good. The crowd had begun to grow, and the room became stuffy.

The freezing night was one thing you didn't miss about New York, but Taehyung’s view significantly made up for it–well, some of it. You leaned your arms against the guard rail, gripping your cup, watching cars pass by, couples and friends racing against the clock to head to their destination. You didn’t like drinking because your thoughts somehow became clearer, the voice growing louder, almost mocking you for your decisions. Being here with old friends and seeing Jimin brought back too much heartache.

Taehyung's model friends interrupted your train of thought, and you left once they lit a cigarette to share. You didn't want to come home smelling like smoke.

The small breath of fresh air got your mind off Jimin and your lies for a split second, but as soon as you stepped back into the crowded room, your eyes found Jimin. But this time, he was talking to someone. A woman. They were laughing, and he was leaning in to whisper something to her. Your stomach began forming a knot because that had to be Jimin's girlfriend, right? You knew you wouldn't be able to avoid it.

You quickly averted your eyes from the two, not wanting to pay attention more than you already had. Suppose it was time for another drink.

Turning your wrist over and checking your watch, there was an hour left until midnight. Then you’d be free to leave and never see anyone again. Taehyung nudged you from behind as you poured yourself a glass of wine, and you needed a small break from all the hard liquor.

“Hey, sweet cheeks…How’s it going? You doing okay?” Taehyung asked, holding out a glass so you could pour him one.

You rolled your eyes at the pet name. “I’m peachy,” you said, holding the peach-flavored white wine.

“Did you see Jimin already?”

Yes, you saw him. And yes, he was doing ten times better than you were. And no, you didn’t want to hear more from Taehyung about anything related to Park Jimin. “Yep,” you replied curtly, “…and I don’t want you rubbing his success in my face.”

Taehyung snorted, spitting out his wine. “You guys are both losers,” he said, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and you weren’t sure if he was referring to this party in general or now. “Shut up, Tae,” you quipped, taking another sip of the disgusting wine.

“You shut up–you’re both losers because you’re both yapping away and telling lies to everyone in the room,” Taehyung glared at you, cocking his eyebrow. 

Did he just say that Jimin was lying too? “What?” you uttered, setting down your glass, replaying your and Jimin’s conversation. You weren’t crazy, right? Jimin said he was in the ABT.

“He’s not with ABT. He’s lying to you,” Taehyung said, “I love you both, but please, for the love of god, get your shit together.” Maybe all the liquor was also getting to him, and his drunken words spoke sober thoughts.

You were stunned at the revelation. After all this time, Jimin’s dream didn’t happen either.

The rest of the night was rinse and repeat of the same conversations. How are you? What are you up to? What are you working on? Yada-yada-yada. Oh god, you were tempted just to grab a bottle of liquor and drown yourself in it. You didn't know how much longer you could hold out. You might have to sober up and call it a night.

After another restless exchange of lies rolling off your tongue, you needed a quiet place away from everything and everyone. You wandered down the hallway to a door already opened, peering in to see that it was empty, guessing it was Taehyung's room, given that a large photo of him was framed above a dresser. You chuckled, shaking your head as you sat down on the bed.

Briefly, you peered around the room before fiddling and staring at your cup. A sudden click of the door grabbed your attention then you scoffed when you realized you weren’t alone–the one, the only, Park Jimin, showed up. You lifted your cup to take one last sip, but you had already finished yet another drink - losing count after the first one. “Miss me that much, huh?” You probably weren’t the nicest person to be around when you drank. Maybe your attitude would be different if life had gone how you wanted it to.

“Just trying to make sure you don’t die of alcohol poisoning. Haven’t you had enough?”

You cocked your eyebrow, tilting your head, “Don’t you have a girlfriend to worry about?” you asked with spite, most likely due to the alcohol running through your veins. You may have pre-gamed before getting to the party just to loosen up your nerves.

“She’s not here,” he replied simply.

You gawked at him, eyes raking him over from head to toe before looking away to stare at anything but the man you once loved. “So, why are you here, then?”

The two of you weren’t together anymore. Jimin didn’t need to worry about you. Big girls don’t fucking cry and whine in front of their exes, and they surely don’t need to be rescued. You’d lost the privilege of Jimin giving two shits about you when you left him two years ago.

"I should be asking you that. I live here. You haven’t been back for two years."

“Well, I’ve been busy in LA. That’s why I haven’t been back.” Which was true - but mostly running errands for coffee and lunch instead of writing as you wanted. You didn’t want to think about what Jimin would have to say about you leaving him for basically nothing.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. What the fuck was his problem right now?

“Do you have something you need to get off your chest? I still don’t understand why you’re in this room with me. I’m sure you’d be having more fun out there at the party than in here.”

You weren’t exactly the life of the party right now. You wanted to be left alone, to wallow in self-pity at the shitty decisions you’ve made. You returned to New York with nothing to show–no job and certainly no boyfriend.

“Yeah, I probably would. But then I’ll be the one stuck with all the guilt when you pass out and choke to death on your own sick. You never did know when to stop.”

You scoffed. “Like you fucking care anyway. Two years and this is the first time I hear from you.”

“We agreed we wouldn’t keep in contact, remember? Too hard. Besides which, I found out you were going to be here from Tae. Could’ve told me yourself.”

“How could I have told you when you blocked me from every social media platform?”

Jimin shrugged. “What did you expect me to do? ‘Like’ every photo of you living your best life without me?”

You were kind of glad Jimin blocked you from all social media because then he’d be liking complete lies about your life. “Well, I’m not dying, so can you just leave me alone? I don’t want to be around anyone.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, y/n. You’re back here–with everyone–for the first time in two years, and you suddenly don’t want to be around any of us? Too good for us now, are you? Too good for New York?”

You looked away from Jimin, biting down on your lip. If you continued to look at the expression on his face, you were sure tears would begin to fall. The building of lies upon lies - you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it up, given that Jimin could always tell when you were lying.

“That’s hardly the case, Jimin.”

“Then what? Why the need to be alone on the biggest party night of the year?”

“Because I’m a fucking loser! A fucking fraud! That’s why I deserve to be alone! I have nothing to celebrate this new year!” The alcohol makes you speak truthfully because what is the point anymore? All of your friends would soon wonder why you were still around, Jimin too.

“What about your big movie?”

“There is no fucking movie! And don’t pretend you don’t already know that! Taehyung told me you’re not in the ABT, so I assume he told you the truth about me, too!” you exclaimed, out of breath. You definitely weren’t expecting this turn of events.

”Yeah, maybe he did, and maybe I did lie; can you really blame me? You coming back here for the first time since you left me, throwing your supposedly fan-fucking-tastic life in my face? And then it turns out it’s all fucking lies, and I come in here to check on you, and you have the fucking gall to treat me like shit? You think I’m going to feel sorry for you? Oh, boo hoo, your little plan didn’t work out? Well neither did mine, and I had to deal with it on my own because someone had fucking left me!”

If only he could see the steam fuming from your ears. “No one’s fucking asking you to feel sorry for me! And fuck you, Jimin. You weren’t the only one who was alone! I literally had no one out there! No one! So don’t you dare say anything to me. We both made the same choice.” 

“And it’s clearly worked out fucking brilliantly for both of us!”

“And you’re saying that’s my fault? That’s on me, is it?” 

“Yeah! I am saying that. This is on you! You broke this!”

“So what do you want from me then, Jimin? What the fuck do you want me to do about it?” 

“I want you to go back two years and not leave! I want you to fucking stay!” 

“Well, you got your fucking wish. I am staying! I’m back, and I’m staying now! So you’ve got what you want! Are you happy?!” your voice shaky, the tears building up on the verge of falling.

“No!”

You could tell he was at war with himself. He took a deep breath and put his hands on his head, pulling at his hair. He sighed a shaky breath and slumped on the bed next to you.

“What exactly did Tae tell you?”

You shrugged. “He didn’t say much. He just said you weren’t with ABT and then scolded me.” Sitting here and talking to Jimin felt like nothing had changed, but in reality, the circumstances of your relationship wouldn’t go back to how it used to be.

“I am not with ABT,” he said. “Not even close.”

Jimin sighed before kicking off his shoes, then he pulled down the back of one of his socks, lifting his foot on the bed. You looked down to find an inch-long scar on the outside of his ankle. You gasped, thinking about how painful it must have been for him.

“Y’know that little extra bone I had at my heel? Don’t have that anymore. That training program that I got into, that-” he stopped. “Turns out that training program was too much. All those little twinges turned into something a whole lot bigger, and then the pain got so bad, I couldn’t even...” He flexed his foot forward, pointing his toes. “They were good about it. I got to see some really good doctors, and, I mean, technically, the problem is fixed.” He rotated his ankle around first one way and then the other as if to demonstrate. “But I was in a cast for a week, then in physio for eight weeks, and, even at that point, it was too late. Full recovery took almost six months. I was already too old to have been off my feet so long; that program was kind of my last chance. And I couldn’t finish it.”

You’re not sure what prompted you, but you reached out, your index finger softly tracing the raised mark on his ankle, stomach fluttering at the simplest touch of his skin. The thought of Jimin going through all of this alone made you feel even worse than you already did. You had left him heartbroken while chasing your dream when he was here, chasing his - only to find he wasn’t able to achieve everything he wanted.

You pulled your hand back, tucking it underneath your thigh, and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry. I wish I had known what you were going through.” All the guilt from the breakup and your leaving was beginning to seep back in. “It must have been hard on you,” you mumbled, quickly peering at him.

“It wa-” Jimin paused before clearing his throat. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It was.”

You slumped over, thinking about the last two years without him. Both of you were hurting without the other knowing to an extent. And Jimin…not being able to do what he truly loved pained you more than your stupid little dream of writing. You could do that whenever, wherever you wanted, but Jimin wouldn’t be able to go back in time and try again.

“I’m uh,” you paused to sniffle, “I’m moving back to New York for good. Gonna be with my parents for a bit while I get everything settled and figure out the next steps. LA was a complete bust. The dream job I left for was the same thing I was doing here.” You shifted back on the bed, then stretched your legs before settling them again. “There’s no big movie, no Lin-Manuel Miranda. I don’t know who I was kidding trying to lie my way out of this,” you chuckled sadly, “Pretty lame, huh? I left you and have nothing to show for it.”

There was a silence that settled between the two of you. You chuckled to yourself, thinking about how lame each of your lies was. And what did they achieve? Nothing really, and it was just a way to feel good about yourself, even if just for a split second.

Out of nowhere, his hand was on top of yours. You stared at the familiar hand, remembering how you’d always tease him about the duality of his hands. One minute they’re cute, soft, and stubby; the next, they’re confident, cunning, and unyielding. Your body felt warm, humming with excitement when he softly caressed the back of your hand. As much as you wanted your hand underneath the warmth of his, you didn’t forget that he was seeing someone. You didn’t want your hands to linger longer than they already did for fear of never wanting to let go again.

"Jimin…" you breathed, his name barely audible. He might not have heard you if he wasn't so close to you. His plush rose-tinted lips looked delectable - you were fighting every fiber of your being, not wanting to lean in and remember what they tasted like. Your skin is hot just thinking about what that mouth of his could do to you. Maybe press kisses along your jaw, your neck, and down the top of your chest. Possibly nibble on your earlobe and whisper something he’d like to do to you. He loved teasing you until you were squirming under him, and you wondered if he did that with this new person.

You didn’t know if Jimin was the only one struggling, but your heart began racing as he moved closer. You wondered if he was also fighting the same urge as you.

It’s been a long time since you had been anywhere near Jimin, let alone almost kissing him. Your eyes flicked to his before dropping to his lips, and your breathing slowed. It was as if time had stopped specifically for you and Jimin, waiting to see what the next move would be. Honestly, you’d be tearing his clothes off now if it weren’t for the fact that he was seeing someone else. You let out a breath, closing the distance, forehead gently bumping into his, your hand resting on his toned pecs.

Then the door swung open.

“Oh! Whoa! Oh, no, no. Ok. Back out! Back out!”

Tae swung in, leaning heavily on the door handle and, upon seeing the two of you in such close proximity, swung immediately back out again, slopping half the contents of his cup on the floor in the process, shooing away whichever lucky person was about to follow him in.

But it was enough. You both jumped, Jimin’s hand lifting off yours, both shifting away from each other. He laughed shakily, ran a hand through his hair. 

“As much as I want to kiss you right now, I’d hate myself for it tomorrow,” you insisted before pulling away from him. Even though you had more than enough to drink tonight, this conversation with Jimin awakened you from fantasy land. The two of you were a complete mess, lying to one another about each other’s lives. You couldn’t bear the thought of whomever he was seeing finding out that he had kissed an ex-girlfriend while they weren’t around. Ugh, the idea made you feel sick–or maybe it was the alcohol.

You stood on your feet, a little wobbly like Bambi on ice, which warranted Jimin’s hands ready to catch you, but you assured him you were okay. You pulled down your skirt, which hiked up underneath your ass cheeks. You berated yourself, walking toward the door. Wondering who you thought you were, coming to this party as a big shot when in reality, you were nothing but a fake, a fraud who deserved nothing else than to be alone in this new year.

You turned around, taking one last look at Jimin, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you earlier tonight. Lifting your hand to wave, telling him, See you later, Jimin. Even though you knew it was another lie. You couldn’t bear to see him with someone else, let alone have their hands all over him. It would be too much for you.

“No! Don’t!”

He was on his feet, crossing the distance to you in two large steps. He placed one hand against the door and the other on your waist.

“Please don’t go.” He floundered, starting sentence after sentence with nothing to follow. “Please, just stay.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend; it’s not that serious.”

You chuckled, wondering if he was lying to himself. “Yeah?” you asked, cocking your eyebrow, “What are we doing then? What is this? Are you saying you want to get back together, or is this just because we’re both pathetic and miserable and drunk?”

“We might be pathetic and miserable and drunk, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything between us; you were the love of my life. You can’t just say we’re nothing to each other now. I know I’m not the only one who feels it. It’s still there. And I don’t want to be your friend.”

It’s true. How could you ever go back to being just friends with Jimin?

If the two of you were to continue what you had before, you feared you’d hurt Jimin again. But what if next time, it was him who left you? You weren’t sure if you could handle another heartbreak.

Your heart leaped when you heard the crowd roar echoing down the hall and into the room, the countdown to midnight in full swing. Fireworks glowed bright hues of white and yellow, illuminating Jimin’s face. More cheers and singing repeated as everyone rang in the new year.

The big question was, how would the two of you go forward now?

As Jimin caged you in against the door, your hands settled on his shirt, fingers curling into a fist, your body fighting every cell not to give in. You leaned in, nose brushed against his, lips faintly touching.

“Call me tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

Then you slipped out of his grasp and were gone.

[quintessencewrites]

Nobody Gets Me

Riri Williams x fwb!reader

How am I supposed to tell ya?

I don't wanna see you with anyone but me

Nobody gets me like you

Warnings: 18+! smut, implied smut, nudity, explicit language, slightly toxic!Riri, fluff eventually

Word Count: 2.7k+

Tags: @yvxmpire @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-favv @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @remwritess @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @iloveours @dayjlovesromance @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed

A/N: Super special, super heartfelt shoutout to @k3nn3dyxo for thinking up this concept <3 I just put it to words. Inspired by the song Nobody Gets Me by SZA from her SOS Album. I've had this song on repeat, so of course I had to do my own take on it.

“Alright, y/n, I’ll see you?”

I’d barely finished wiping the cum off my inner thigh before she stood to grab her pants and slide them back up the legs that were shaking for me just moments ago. 

“Do you have to go? Like right now?”

A sigh rolled off her lips, “Y/n, baby, we talked about this.”

I ignored the stinging statement. “We can watch a movie. Cuddle? Aftercare? Give me something.”

Her gaze darted to the watch on her wrist before continuing to search the room for her brassiere. “Nah, I got a date in twenty minutes, y/n. I still gotta go wash your scent off me so Serenity don’t trip.”

Nude bra in hand, she pulls the straps onto her toned arms and attempts to clasp the garment. 

“That one’s mine, Ri.”

She looks down at the bra, too large for her B-cups, and shrugs, stripping from it. “Whatever, I’m going back to my dorm anyway. I’ll just grab another.”

My back rests against the headboard as I watch her continue to dress, tears threatening to spill from my ducts. My pride won’t let them run over; she won’t see me cry over her. 

This had been our arrangement for months. And we had talked about it. Multiple times, actually, and talking turned to screaming and doors slamming and texts going unanswered for days until she showed up at my doorstep and fucked me into accepting her apology. 

“We work too well as friends,” she had told me, three fingers deep and speaking through my moans. “We don’t wanna jeopardize that by putting a label on it, right baby?” She could’ve gotten me to agree to anything at that moment, as she coaxed the orgasm out of my sore pussy. 

So we agreed to be friends who fucked. The agreement was more Riri’s than my own, but that’s what it was. She dated multiple people on the side and too often ended those dates by coming to my dorm to get what they hadn’t given her, before leaving to repeat the cycle. 

My little black book was empty. I couldn’t bring myself to see anyone else. Nobody made me feel the way Riri did. She sent butterflies swarming in my stomach. We would work as a couple and I know we would, but she wasn’t willing to give us a chance. 

Fully dressed, nix a bra, Ri stepped back over to my bed to plant a kiss on my forehead. I refused to look at her, eyes stone-clad on the television mounted on the adjacent wall.

 “Hey,” she whispered so gently it tugged at my heartstrings. Her hand gripped my chin and dragged my gaze back to her too-pretty features. “Don’t be like that. I’ll text you after, okay?”

She didn’t even give me time to answer, placing a gentle peck on my lips and walking out of the door. 

My figure was frozen in that spot for several minutes, not wanting what just happened to really be over. 

I turned over in my sheets, feeling the wetness soaked down to the mattress. “Goddammit, Riri.” 

As I strip the bed, the memory of my clean linen awaiting me in the dryer a few doors down came to play. That’s how I’d run into Riri in the first place. A disgruntled groan left my lips at the realization that I’d have to leave my room to retrieve my laundry, assuming someone hadn’t stolen it after all these hours. 

The oversized Reptar slippers from the Rugrats collection squeaked with each step I took. The laundry room was plunged into darkness when I arrived and the flicking of the light switch disrupted my entire world.

Ignorance truly was bliss. 

Riri.

Serenity; seated atop a washing machine, back turned towards me. 

Ri, fingers furiously making contact with Serenity’s cunt, catching my eyes when I’d turned on the light. 

The two of us holding the record for the world’s quickest staring contest, my gape full of shock and heartbreak, her’s indistinguishable. 

I break away first, rushing out and leaving Riri to her vices.

Back in my room, underneath my Riri-scented covers is where I spent the night. The tears finally made a promise out of their threat and poured down my face. The convictions hit me hard through the hours of darkness.

I wasn’t stupid; our deal was clear. We weren’t in a relationship and Riri was allowed to sex with whomever she wanted, as was I. Though in the back of my head, I knew I wasn’t her only, I’d sure as hell hoped. 

Sleep overcame me at some point and during it, my hopes washed away. 

By the time I awoke, the sun was high in the sky, warming my skin through the open blinds. 

What time was it?

Well past noon, my phone displayed. My first and second classes of the day were but a faint memory now. 

The LED screen also presented a number of missed texts and calls from Riri herself. 

‘Y/n, open the door, baby.’

‘You weren’t supposed to see that.’

‘You ignoring me?’

‘So you skipping classes now?

‘I’m not playing these games with you.’

The last call from her was only 18 minutes ago. My fingers were itching to press her name, listen to the line trill, and hear her apologies. 

An incoming call placed those plans on hold. 

“Amari, hey!”

“Y/n. wassup? You good?”

The girl’s voice had a calming effect, the baritone doing something to me. 

She spoke again, “You never miss class. Everything straight?”

Nah, nothing was straight. “Ye-yeah, um, I just had a nightmare. I overslept. ”

Flashbacks of Serenity moaning Riri’s name drowned my thoughts.

Honestly, had it not been for my false hopes and holding out for Riri, Amari would've been able to call me hers. She never hid her attraction for me, regardless of how many times it went unrequited. We shared a major and her beautiful presence made itself known in every class I had this semester. 

“Oh, ight. I was just missing my signature y/n smile this morning.”

Her words managed to pull that smile from me. “You’ll see it, next class. Does that makeup for it?”

“Nah, y/n it doesn't. I already started my day off wrong. I can't wait that long.” I can hear her pearly white grin through the receiver. “How bout I stop by?” Amari continues. “I got the notes you missed and I’ll bring food. Consider it a late-lunch date?”

Date…if Riri could, then so would I. “A date it is. I’ll see you in 20?”

The Devil Wears Prada played in the background, drowned out by Amari’s laughter. The handsome chuckle that came from her lips warmed my stomach. “Wait, wait, wait. How the hell did you end up on your ass again?”

My smile mirrored hers. “I told you already, dude. I was a dancer; I was trying to do a high kick in a long-ass skirt and the skirt swept my other foot from under me. Down I went.”

“How long ago was this?”

Silence filled the room. My attention returned to the lo mein in front of me, sliding off the chopsticks held poorly in my hands. 

“Y/n, baby girl, when was this?”

The pet name didn’t go unnoticed, but my shame overshadowed my giddiness. Shaking my head slowly, I whispered my response, “Last week…”

Amari was doubled over, captivated by her giggles. “You’re so eccentric.”

“Girl,” I started, laughter spilling from my own tongue. “Just because you call me weird with a pretty word, don’t mean you didn’t just call me weird.”

“A pretty word for a pretty girl, nah?”

Whew, if the blush rose any faster, I would’ve fainted. “Am I the pretty girl?” I teased, curious about her comeback. 

“Other than me, you the only other girl in here, and I know I’m pretty fine. I tell myself that every day.”

“You cocky bitch,” my stomach is cramping and tears are streaming, the chuckles engulfing me. 

“Anyways, I don’t get to tell you that every day. Tell you that I think you’re a pretty girl,” she states with a lick of her lips, spreading the warmth in my stomach. Amari leans forward, eyes locked on mine. My body mimics her actions until we’re both just inches away. 

“I’d kind of like to kiss a pretty girl right now if that’s okay?”

The words are lodged in my throat, and at that moment, Riri doesn’t even cross my mind. Amari is here, she’s with me right now, and she wants me. “Yes,” I breathe out. “Yes, it’s okay.”

No hesitation is present in Amari’s features when she leans further to press her lips against mine, and I oblige. 

Her mouth is so soft, I sink in, throwing a hand onto the bed to catch myself. Though distracted by the kiss herself, Amari grabs hold of my hips and pulls me to straddle her lap. My legs fit perfectly around her and I settle into my new place.

Our tongues swim together, fighting one another until Amari takes dominance and I follow her lead.

Moans escape me and she swallows them up. Our notes and Chinese food are long forgotten; we’re only craving each other. Her touch is everywhere, struggling with a place to satisfy. Without separating our lips, I take her hands and place them on my hips. As if on instinct, her thumbs hook into my waistband and start to drag them down, nails dragging on my skin as well. 

The air surrounding us is thick and hot, as are my thoughts. Amari peels my shirt from my body, releasing my braless nipples to perk up at the feeling of her on me.

A pounding on my door tears us apart, chests heaving hard, lungs working overtime to catch the breath we’d lost over each other.

I don’t pull my eyes away from Amari and she keeps hers locked in on me. “Do you need to get that?”

I shake my head so quickly, the room spins. “No,” I respond, licking my lips, begging them to not go dry. 

Thankfully, the gorgeous girl doesn’t need me to repeat myself. Her head dips, finding a new place in my neck and the kisses turn hot and aggressive. Bites litter my skin, promising to be evidence of this rendezvous. Amari’s shirt is off and thrown into a corner, allowing my hands to caress her through the black sports bra she adorned. 

“Oh, Ri.” The moan flees me, loudly before I catch it. “You’ve never called me that before, baby girl,” Amari breathes into my neck, causing a giggle in response.

The thumping on my dorm door becomes a banging. “Let me get it. I’ll send whoever it is away and we can finish what we started.” Amari offers, already standing and giving me no time to protest.

Her long legs reach the entrance in two strides. Riri is standing in the doorway, small body filled to the brim with anger. Her eyes barely acknowledge Amari, but they lock onto me. My topless figure, still exposed to the air, retreated back like a child about to receive a scolding. 

She finally turns to Amari, now leaning against the frame. “Bounce,” Riri seethes. 

“Excuse me?” the taller girl’s brows are drawn high, probably in shock at Riri’s anger and disrespect.

Riri’s gaze returns to me, though her words are meant for Amari. “Leave. Me and y/n need to talk.”

Amari follows Riri’s stare to my pathetic posture. “Y/n”? 

All I can offer up is a half-assed smile. “You should go. I’ll call you later.”

With a single nod, Amari retrieves her shirt and books and exits the room, bumping past Riri as she does. Ri takes this chance to invite herself in, slamming the door behind her.

In a few steps, she’s seated at the foot of my bed, eyes trying so hard to tell me something her mouth wasn’t. We sit in silence, neither of us wanting to be the first to speak.

Suddenly, a dry smile spreads from cheek to cheek. “You fucking other bitches, but moaning my name?”

I roll my eyes to the heavens, knowing she hates when I do. “It’s her name too, Riri.”

“Mm,” she hums. “I missed you today in uh - three classes.”

“You didn’t have Serenity to keep you company?”

Ri sucks her teeth at my pettiness. “Nah, but it looks like you wasn’t sitting up here worried too much about me and Serenity.”

Her words almost burn me. The horniness originally present in my veins has turned to anger. Riri doesn’t get to be jealous, but she sure as hell could be as hurt as I was last night.

I push the blanket aside, dropping to all fours to crawl over to Riri. “I wasn’t. I was about to get fucked, good too. Until you interrupted it.”

She doesn’t speak, eyes fixated on me and my partially naked body. “What do you want Ri? You get to have Serenity moaning your name and cumming on your hand and I’m just supposed to sit around and wait for it to be my turn?”

As angry as I was trying to stay, her face falling at my words almost melt away my hard demeanor. Her eyes are now readable, sadness displayed on them like a teleprompter. 

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Riri. If you’re having sex with other people, so can I. Matter of fact, how about you have sex with who you want and I have sex with who I want and we stop having sex with each other.”

That gets her attention, and her voice vibrates the room. “How am I supposed to let you go?”

I’m ready to interrupt, but her next words silence me. “I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me, y/n. Okay? I-I’m not mature enough to be able to watch you do to me the wrong I do to you.”

Tears cover her features. “I love you, y/n. I have a shitty way of showing it, but I’m a coward. I’m too afraid to have my heart broken the way I must be breaking yours.”

I don’t even notice my own tears begin to streak my face. “Seeing you cry makes it worse, baby. Come here,” she welcomes, patting her lap, and inviting me to sit. 

Acceptance is granted and I take a seat, allowing her to pull me close. “I only like myself when I’m with you, y/n. I should’ve stayed to cuddle. To play in your hair or something. Anything.”

“I bet you tell Serenity the same thing,” I declare, still feeling petty. Riri sighs a deep, tired sound. “I kicked Serenity to the curb, baby.”

The shock in my features is hard to hide. “Why?”

She rests her head against my bare breasts, eyes staring intensely into mine. “Nobody gets me like you.”

My smile fights to return, “You’re so damn corny.” Riri’s grin coaxes mine out.

“Corny but I mean it, y/n. Please, start from scratch with me. Give me a chance to do it right.” She bites her bottom lip, anticipating my answer.

“Do it right how?” I challenge.

“Take you on dates,” Ri kisses my hand.

“Cuddle you while we watch movies,” a kiss on my shoulder.

“Aftercare after every time I make you cum so hard, you lose your ability to form a legible sentence,” her lips touch my neck, exposing her vision to Amari’s love bites.

“Ugh,” Riri starts, but my expression is enough to stop her short. 

“How about you start now?” I suggest.

When she smiles, it reaches her eyes and lights up her whole face. She nods and takes a handful of my breast, guiding my nipple to her warm mouth. It felt good when it was Amari, but it feels right with Riri. 

“Mm, Ri,” I draw out, sucking in a hiss when she grins with my nipple between her teeth. 

"Yeah, I knew you were moaning my name, baby" her stupid, arrogant voice rings out.