#why i avoid heavy editing

[aurorangen]

Isaac's encounter with Renee

Transcript:

Vincent: We'll look into the Sterling-Rico family for this scam. Let's win this case ok? Isaac: I will do my best. Why are you so eager to win this one anyway? Vincent: Felix is family really [smiles] he's my partner's grandad, so I don't want to mess up.

[Isaac was surprised to hear Vincent's relations to the Reichmanns and wanted to ask more] Renee: [runs up to them and jumps into Vincent's arms] Vince! Surprised to see me? Vincent: What are you doing in Evergreen Harbour? I thought you were heading to work this morning.

Renee: I know you've got Grandad's case and I'm actually free today! Thought I'd hop on the train here. [It was definitely awkward hearing them converse like he wasn't there. He wanted to interrupt, but it was also great to see Vincent be casual. Maybe he'll open up to him since he's seeing some of his personal life]

Vincent: Ahem Isaac, this is my girlfriend Renee. Isaac: It's a pleasure to meet you Renee [pauses for a split second] Reichmann. Renee: Likewise Isaac, I hope Vince is treating you well at work.

[kithj]

ok sorry i overestimated my ability to finish this over the weekend. but this week FOR SURE

[titania-sleeps]

Submissive Omega Yandere x Alpha Reader

hi guys it's tmr and i was able to cut down some of the words! i left out the full ver of his first heat and your first rut so that'll be a dif post

idk if i should go fully into omegaverse stuff and just give reader a dick regardless of gender (cause apparently female alphas have retractable dicks) so i'm avoiding that for now

edit: more works featuring Adonis: Adonis Rides You, First Heat

warning: nsfw, dom reader, omegaverse (heats, ruts, yknow), minors DNI pls

• Adonis and you have been fuck buddies for three years now. At first, it was out of necessity; you were both teenagers with raging hormones, and being an omega and alpha respectively meant that the two of you had a difficult time taking care of your needs on your own.

• Adonis was surprised when you proposed the idea to him in your third year of high school. The two of you were good friends by then, and you probably knew of his plight. However, his heart raced nonetheless and he wondered if you secretly had a crush on him. He wouldn't have minded if you did, since you were his type! Sadly, you made it clear to him that you weren't interested in him as a romantic partner, only as a sexual partner.

• Adonis didn't let that deter him, however. He couldn't deny that he felt a little disappointed, but he didn't think too much of it at that time. As long as he didn't fall in love with you, everything would be alright.

• Adonis fucked up. Two months into your friends w/ benefit situation with him, he'd already caught feelings. Whenever he was around you, his pulse would increase and his senses would go into overdrive. Even when the two of you weren't fucking like rabbits, his hole was dripping for you.

• Adonis cursed at himself every time he went on a date with you. (They were dates because he considered it so and he would take no other opinions.) It was especially terrible when you went shopping with him. He couldn't help himself but think about you fucking him senseless in the changing rooms. Just the thought of it alone had him squeezing his thighs, his breaths heavy.

• Adonis tried to hide it from you, but you easily noticed his rose scent growing stronger. You would pull him to the side and ask him gently if he was in heat. The worst part was that he wasn't. He was simply always like this around you.

• Adonis loved that you never asked any further questions. You would quickly take him home and tell him to strip. And strip he gladly did. He didn't have the time to prepare himself for you, but you didn't need it. In a matter of seconds, your tongue was in his hole, thrusting in and out. Your hand rubbed his rock-hard member, sliding easily with his slick. During those nights, he would cum quickly and sleep deeply, arms wrapped around your waist tightly. He would not let you leave him.

• Adonis didn't understand how you were so nonchalant. He felt silly being the only one so affected by the intimacy the two of you were supposedly sharing. He assumed that you would've bitten him already, but you were so resilient.

• Adonis tried to ignore it, and he did a really good job at doing so! Well, for about a week. He just didn't get it; he was perfect for you and you were perfect for him. Your scent intoxicated him, and he was sure that his scent affected you the same way. So why didn't you want him more?

• Adonis spent the next year grappling with his situation. It only got worse over time; just a small whiff of your scent drove his instincts insane. He needed to be bred by you, for you to mark him. He needed you to claim him, to destroy his being and rebuild him from scratch.

• Adonis had his first official heat in the middle of the day at school that same year. It came out of nowhere, and the arousal he felt was far greater than anything he'd ever experienced in the past.

• Adonis didn't bother hiding it. You were talking to your friends, but he interrupted and dragged you away by the arm, his face flushed. You were concerned, as you always were, but his eyes were clouded in need. He pushed you into the janitor's closet, locking the door behind you.

• Adonis stuck onto you in the closet, trembling. Sweat trickled down his neck, glistening against his skin. His scent was stronger than it had ever been; no longer just roses but now with a hint of lemon.

• Adonis whined, grinding against your leg. His pants were already soaking wet, the sticky liquid coating your leg. You sighed; you knew were going to miss class for the rest of the day.

• Adonis clung to you for the rest of the school year, nearly attached to your hip. You had lunch with him every day, you walked him home every day, and even your weekends were spent with him. He was so happy that you were giving him so much attention!

• Adonis suffered greatly during your last year of high school. He was so close to confessing to you, but he didn't want to lose what he already had with you. But you were glowing, your demeanor so confident and charismatic. He could see the other omegas turning their heads whenever they walked past the two of you.

• Adonis knew that if he didn't act quick, another omega would try and seduce you. He couldn't stand the thought of that, especially since he laid his eyes on you first. He would be your first and only mate. No one else.

• Adonis's heart dropped when he witnessed a small female omega confess to you under a cherry blossom tree the day of your graduation. He was planning to do that. That was supposed to be you and him.

• Adonis didn't bother trying to think when he intercepted her confession. He grabbed your arm, pressing his chest against it.

"Who is this, darling?" he had asked. The shock and hurt on her face were worth every ounce of courage it took for him to do that. She ran away, sobbing, and he was left with you and a sense of pride. No one was going to come between you and him.

• Adonis was scolded by you afterward, but he didn't care. You were his alpha, his fated mate. You didn't need any other omegas. That night, you treated him roughly, your body pressed heavily against his and your teeth baring at him.

• Adonis grinned. You were going to bite him! Surely, this was where you would finally, finally bite him. Hurry, show him what bad boys get. Show him that naughty boys get bitten, claimed against their will, and used like toys.

• Adonis was disappointed when you left the morning after, no bite marks on his body. He was being so good for you, so why didn't you claim him? Did you have someone else? Did he have to resort to murder just so you'd look solely at him?

• Adonis swore to himself that this year would be the year you bite him. This year would be your final year as fuck buddies. Next year, you two will already be mates. And if there's one thing you need to know about Adonis, it is that he mates for life.

something in me wanted to name him adonis casanova bc that would've been really funny but he's just adonis. for now.

next adonis fic is gonna be his first heat (in detail) and then maybe your first rut (also in detail),,,

-> masterlist

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[drewsbraziliangf]

nothing to say when heaven falls | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: what can you do when the person that’s supposed to understand and be on your side chooses to doubt your fears?

Word count: 1388

a/n: not edited, we die like soldiers!!!!! pls let me know if you wish to be added to my taglist

"How can't you see how disrespectful this is to me, Drew?" You ask with a strained voice and teary eyes. "Everywhere you go she's looming like a shadow."

"She's my friend, what do you want me to do?" Exasperated, he asks.

"I don't know. Maybe tell her that your fiancé doesn't feel comfortable with her following you around, traveling abroad to see you or fuck, being all fucking touchy and handsy with you in public."

My throat was burning as the words slipped my mouth but I simply couldn't avoid it any longer. I am so tired of this whole situation and it has been going on for far too long. I just can't hold it back anymore.

"Can't exactly tell her what to do," he rolled his eyes this time.

"Really? Am I really asking for that much?" I look at the man in front of me with disbelief, "I just want to feel like I'm not invisible in my own goddamn relationship. She sees you more than I do and I am the one with a ring on my finger. How is this fair?" 

"Babe, listen, there's nothing going on between me and her. You have to believe me," he pleads as he runs his hands through his hair.

"You don't think I'm trying to believe you? I'm in the trenches everyday telling myself this over and over again, but how can I turn a blind eye to it when the first thing I see whenever I'm online is that you're both coincidently in the same city. For the millionth time."

I know that pulling this out in the open this way isn't the best option. But how could I keep bottling all of this up when it's causing such a heavy pain in my chest every time I see their names together?

It was always clear the perks of dating a public figure and I never backed out on it. Now seeing the man who asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies walking around with the woman everyone swears he was romantically involved with is messed up.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admits as he walks away from me.

That felt like a punch. Because how could I make it anymore obvious? Do I have to draw it to a thirty year old why he should respect the woman he chose to propose to? 

“Are you for real right now?” I asked as I follow him into the kitchen of our shared apartment. “Did you really just said that to me, Joseph?”

At this point it felt like there was no going back anymore, either this was going to be totally fixed here or it wouldn’t at all. The bandaid was ripped and the wound was open and burning.

“How can you be so dull? You really can’t see what the problem here is?” 

I watch as he fills a glass with water and turns his back to me. He did it twice already. The off white walls of the kitchen lacked the warm they always brought when we were in it together. It felt claustrophobic and like the roof was going to fall over our heads at any given minute.

“You’re acting like I’m cheating on you. Like this is some major fuck up. It isn’t, you’re turning it into something it isn’t.” His tone was cold but looking at his posture it was clear that he was trying to maintain his calm.

The condescending tone in his voice made me want to shrink into myself and hide away from the world.

“Oh, right. Yeah, blame it on me for thinking that my fiancé going out of his way to be with his ex fuck buddy isn’t normal.”

“Careful,” he warns once finally looks at me.

“Or what, Drew? What else could you possibly do that will make me feel worse than I already do?” I challenge, my gaze locked on him as I wait.

After a few minutes of us staring down at each other, he shakes his head and sighs. 

“I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m done entertaining this,” he declares and he leans against the countertop.

Drew and I met around two years ago through a mutual friend. We instantly hit off and after a few dates, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend - which I obviously accepted. We had this instant connection that isn’t common. At first I was terrified of it, I knew who he was and the fact that his life was always being scrutinized by thousands of people. I knew what people said online about him and as we got closer and closer I couldn’t help but lose myself in the speculations about him even more.

Our relationship was great and we always made sure that each others boundaries were respected, so color me stoked to be in this situation right now. I am not dumb and every single day there is a needle pinching me making me think of stuff and situations like the one we find ourselves right now just indulge those thoughts.

In the early days of our relationship we made sure there were no secrets between us and past relationships. I knew I was his first black girlfriend, I knew he was born and raised in the South too. So joining that and the fact that I am an immigrant did make me scared of a lot of things, the main of them being the fact that it isn’t uncommon at all for men to always find their way back to that they are used to. 

So seeing her upon him all the time while people online barely know about our relationship feels like hell. Because even though I’m in family pictures that his sisters post online, and the very visible ring on my finger I am never considered the option of being his significant other. She is. Every single time. And he never did anything about it - hell, he never even set boundaries with her and she knows that we’re together. Am I really reading too much into things? 

Being three months away from our wedding day, this isn’t the kind of thought or conversations I would like to be having. I should be fucking excited and dress hunting, but lately the only thing that I feel like doing is swallowing lumps and holding back tears, faking smiles and pretending I’m fine. I’m not, I’m fucking falling apart and I’m so tired of begging to be seen. 

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not comfortable with this and that you shouldn’t be either,” I point out as the first tear cross the edges of my cheeks. “I don’t know how else to ask you to respect our relationship.”

“I respect our relationship, I always did. I just don’t think that what you’re saying right now makes any sense. Whatever I had with her in the past is over.” He says as he runs one of his hands through his face.

“Drew, honey, you’re not seeing things from my point of view. Imagine if it was me catching planes every other day to be with someone that I was involved in with in the past. And all of our friends know that you and I are together. How would that make you feel?”

At that he says nothing but silence can mean many things, and in this case it means consent. 

Tired of this back in forth conversation, I reach for my phone that was besides his on the counter and as if the timing couldn’t be more right, the screen of his phone lights up with an incoming call. No surprise flashes through my features as I see the picture on the caller id, both of them in a mirror picture as they brush their teeth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I confess watching as he reaches for his phone quickly declining the call. “Not when you’re up to your eyeballs into whatever this is. I’ll make the calls tomorrow and cancel the dates with the venue.”

I grab my phone and my purse and I walk towards the front door before he can say anything else, I’m closing it behind me. 

[rafey-baby]

hidden 4

cw: hostage/stockholm syndrome situation, outlaw!rafe being his usual self towards pogue!reader, mentions of murder and violence, a surprise in the grocery store, smut: dub-con (!), fingering, p-in-v, unprotected sex, size kink

wc: 2.7k

it's here! hope u enjoy xx

(also this is probably the last part unless i get a crazy continuation idea cause i feel like it makes sense to end it here?) edit: there will be one more part!!

part 1 part 2 part 3 & part 5

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“A picture provided by a passer-by has led us to believe that Rafe Cameron, a suspect for the murder of a police officer is still on the island and has possibly been in contact with the witness who now wants to withdraw his statement, not wanting to testify in court due to personal reasons. However, the investigation is still ongoing and Cameron remains the main suspect which means that if you have any information about his whereabouts please do not hesitate to—” 

Rafe twists the car radio off with a scoff.  

“The fuck they're gonna do with a blurry photo? Unless they find another witness or some actual proof, they don’t have shit on me,” he mutters more to himself than her as he yanks open the door and lets it slam closed; leaving her to scramble after his exasperated steps through the grocery store parking lot.  

She doesn’t know how Rafe managed to discover the name of the witness or why a few days ago she sat in his truck parked outside the poor guy’s home keeping watch, but at this point she’s decided that the universe simply must have something against her peace of mind.  

When she asked about his visit, he simply shrugged it off with a ’Don’t worry about it, s’all good. Just had a little talk with him’ which honestly made unease settle into the bottom of her stomach because it was most definitely not the entire truth.  

For the following days, she tried her very best to avoid his intimidating presence as to not give him a reason to get mad at her while he made several phone calls and took care of business. However, acting as if he wasn’t there wasn’t the easiest task since her house, despite the cozy atmosphere, isn’t very grand.  

Whenever she'd try to find sleep in her soft sheets, his heavy presence in the next room would send a shiver up her spine and erase any prospects of getting rest. And when she’d try to cook dinner, he’d be looming way too close for comfort and make her accidentally drop a pan on her kitchen floor. Therefore, she's not exactly feeling her best. 

As they step through the sliding doors, Rafe is hiding under black sunglasses and an old baseball cap he borrowed (stole) from her; trying to keep a low profile and appear as ordinary as any casual customer shopping for essentials since he’s practically emptied her fridge at this point. 

“Do you want red or green grapes?” She inquires as she peers down at the fruit. 

“Don't really give a shit. Just get both,” he grumbles out, seemingly all too aware of his surroundings; antsy to just get out of the store already. 

“That’s not very helpful,” she complains quietly as she decides on the green ones and pushes the shopping cart forward with Rafe close behind.  

And she’s all too preoccupied by picking out what she wants for breakfast when all of a sudden, he grabs her face in his big palms and presses his lips against hers.  

She lets out a surprised noise that gets swallowed up by him as he slots their mouths together while her entire body tenses up in response to him pushing her against the shelves that display different types of bagels. 

She’s momentarily disconcerted, doesn’t remember the last time she’s been kissed like this; all rough and inconsiderate. And maybe that’s why she’s beginning to feel light-headed; every coherent thought wiped away because him kissing her makes absolutely no sense. Therefore, she doesn’t even realize she’s reciprocating the kiss before her distracted mind stirs awake and soon enough, she’s pulling away with creased brows. 

“Rafe, what the—”  

However, she’s interrupted by the hollow of his hand plastering over her mouth.  

“Shut up,” he hisses lowly, eyes alarmed and shoulders tense.  

She’s about to protest before he nods towards a couple of officers a few feet away from them; apparently having just passed them. They’re strolling through the aisle leisurely, chatting freely and not paying them any mind because why would they do anything except roll their eyes at a lovey-dovey couple making out next to the organic whole wheat toast?  

Oh.  

She can’t believe she didn’t notice them; figuring that if she was the one running from the cops, she wouldn’t last a day. Before her brain has the chance to catch up and command her to scream for help though, she feels the barrel of his gun poking at her chest, forcing the desperate pleads to die out on her tongue.  

She stares into threatening larimar and blinks; too frightened to even inhale too loud. Neither of them move until the policemen have rounded the corner and leaving them the only people standing in the bread aisle.  

And he doesn’t think too much of the kiss, simply a means for him to stay under the radar but unfortunately her head turns into a blank piece of paper, not able to say a word until they’re walking the grass-covered steps to her threshold.  

“Why would you do that?” She’s fuming as he locks the front door. 

“Was just tryin’ not to blow my cover, calm down,” he grumbles out and sets down the grocery bags.  

“By kissing me?” She snaps in exasperation.  

“Yeah, well there wasn’t exactly time to think about anything else,” he seems so nonchalant about all this, as if he doesn’t care one bit. She figures he doesn’t because it seems that for him it’s the most tedious thing in the world to consider other people’s feelings for one second.  

Maybe she didn’t want him to kiss her, of all things. Didn’t want him to make the muddy thoughts brewing beneath the surface of her sanity any louder than they already were. Because despite how hard she’s trying to convince herself that him shoving her around and walking around her house as if he owns it doesn’t affect her, it wouldn’t change the fact that something about his dominating presence is slowly but surely making her grow curious.  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She drops her keys to the ceramic bowl in her hallway, walking towards the living room; wanting to put as much distance between them as possible in order to have some space to think.  

“I mean, it’s not like you seemed to mind too much, you did kiss me back,” he points out as heavy footsteps follow her.  

“I was just…in shock, okay?” She turns around and her voice is loud, tone frustrated. 

“Don’t fucking raise your voice at me,” he warns her, low and gravelly; making her shiver.  

“And if you were just in shock, then why are you blushing right now, hm?” He takes a step closer to inspect her, too close. 

“I’m— I’m not blushing,” she tries to deny. However, the cherry tint heating the apples of her cheeks gives her away.  

“You’re a shit liar, you know that?” He chuckles, amused. “Bet you liked me kissing you, hm? Just being too much of a stubborn Pogue to admit that.”  

Her dumbfounded eyes stare at him in silence because she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say to that.  

“Usually not into whiny pups but should just fuck some sense into you so you’d wipe that stupid pout off your face, yeah?” He rasps out, looking at her with something devilish glimmering in the aquamarine of his eyes.  

“You’re a fucking psycho!” The accusation escapes past her lips before she has the chance to think about it.  

And at that, he harshly grabs her jaw between rough fingertips; mushing her cheeks together and making her teeth bite into the gummy walls of her mouth.  

“What did you just call me?”  

She realizes her mistake too late.  

“Didn’t— didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” her frightened eyes are wide.  

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He dryly laughs in her face, finding entertainment in her torment.  

“Yes, I don’t know why I—”  

“You gon’ make it up to me?” He asks as he feigns contemplation.  

“What?” 

“Cause I think this fucking psycho ordering you around like a puppy gets you wet, huh? You don’t think I’ve seen the way you look at me?” He lets go of her jaw, tall frame towering over her. 

“I don’t…what are you—” she’s unable to move, trepidation creeping up her spine along with an odd form of intrigue that makes her respiration grow arduous because he’s not exactly wrong.  

“Should we check?” He raises his brows. 

“What— what are you doing?” She tries to take a hesitant step back, albeit uselessly; her back thumping against the wall when he corners her into it. 

“That’s not a no,” he tilts his head at her, mocking her. And then he’s pushing his hand into her pants, past the waistband of her panties and feeling her out; fingertips finding the stickiness already present.   

She gasps, surprised by the sudden pressure against her attention-starved cunt.  

“Huh, look at that. Should’ve known you were a horny fucking girl when I first saw those stupid fake scared eyes, talking ’bout some ’Rafe I’m sorry please don’t hurt me I’ll do anything’ shit,” he raises his pitch to an overly extreme girlish squeak, meant to patronize her, yet somehow, it’s turning her on even more.  

“Bet you’d like that though, if I’d hurt you? Rough you up a little, hm?” His heady breaths tickling her lips is kindling a blaze deep in her tummy; arousing something novel, strange, unfamiliar. 

“Rafe…” she manages out since her head is spinning.  

“That’s right. Say my fucking name,” he’s chuckling as a digit slips down to prod at her opening and slowly pushing in; causing a faint whimper to leave the gaps of her teeth. 

“So fucking tight. Been a while, huh? Not gon’ lie been a while for me too. With all this shit with the cops haven’t exactly had the time to get my cock wet, you know? At this point s’getting a bit frustrating, if I’m being honest,” he rumbles mindlessly, too lost in examining her reactions to his fingers playing with her cunt to care about what he’s saying.  

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t think she’s physically able to form any kind of words at the moment, let alone coherent sentences. His thumb rubbing lazy circles against her swollen clit leaves her dazed and she knows this is wrong, it’s so wrong yet she can’t deny how good it feels to have him touch her like this.  

“Now that I’m thinking about it, haven’t tried Pogue pussy before, wanna help with that?” His low drawl is nearly hypnotizing; her morals turning more and more hazy by the second and evaporating into the tension-filled air surrounding them.  

“Rafe…I don’t—” 

“You’re soaked. When’s the last time you got fucked good?” He interrupts her.  

“I don’t...remember,” she mumbles out.  

“Don’t remember? Shit, Puppy,” there’s a condescending lilt to his pity and she whines when he drags his finger out and nudges it back in again.  

“The guy I was with wasn’t, um, the best so…didn’t really wanna do it again and stuff,” she timidly admits.  

“You’re letting a guy who can’t make you come between your legs? Such a shame. But not really a surprise those Pogue boys don’t know how to fuck. I mean, no wonder you’re so wound up,” the edges of his mouth curl.  

“I’ll take care of it though, make you feel so good, yeah?” His breathy promises try to coax her to give in. 

“Rafe, I don’t know…”  

“Listen, I’m just saying, probably gon’ be here for some time until everything settles and gotta kill the time somehow, no?”  

“But this is wrong, you— you threatened to kill me,” she reminds him and herself with the remnants of her determination.  

“Yeah, yeah, that wasn’t very…nice, but don’t be acting like you don’t want this. All I’m saying here is, you’re the one dripping down my hand right now and really, I’d be doing you a favor,” his crooked logic goes unnoticed by her as she slowly blinks up at him. 

“We really shouldn’t—” she’s interrupted by another digit squeezing into her achy cunt, making her moan out at the sudden stretch. 

“Don’t worry your little head over what we should and shouldn’t do, alright? If you’re worried what your pathetic Pogue friends might think, I don’t kiss and tell. Can be our little secret, yeah?” He grins down at her. 

“Rafe, I don’t think we should…” she tries again. 

“Shh. What did I just tell you, hm?” He hushes her with the expanse of his palm pressing against her clit making her suppress another whimper.  

“Promise to go slow?” She asks without a clue as to why she’s not trying to prevent this.  

What’s wrong with her? She tries to convince herself that she’s only allowing for this to happen because maybe then she’ll finally get him out of her system. 

“Of course,” his conformation doesn’t sound all too veracious when something hungry glints in his eyes.  

“You gon’ let a Kook show you what you’re missing, hm?” He rumbles before he’s pushing her onto the couch and following soon after; mouth sloppy as it molds over her own and tongue warm when it intrudes her mouth. Quick fingers toy with his belt until he’s tugging the zipper of his pants down and making her eyes flicker down when he takes himself out. 

“You’re so big,” her rounded eyes ogle at his cock, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip when she notices how it twitches in his hand in response to her words.  

“Shit, you think it’ll fit?” He wonders out loud, grabbing her hips and dragging her closer with strong arms. 

“I don’t know…” she trails off when he pulls down her shorts by the belt loops before the drippy tip is nudging at her entrance. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” he murmurs and then he’s tucking himself right into her weepy cunt.  

She cries out at the overwhelming stretch as she tries to accommodate to his size; thankful he’s not pushing all the way in yet because she already feels so full she’s not sure how she’s supposed to take any more of him.  

“Fuck, you really are a tight little thing, huh?” He grunts out.  

“Relax, yeah?” He coaxes before his mouth meets her neck; pasting wet kisses and letting the flat of his tongue lave over the sensitive skin there.  

He moves lower as his fingers pluck at the straps of her flimsy top before letting her tits out and taking a puffy nipple between his lips. They moan in tandem when his left hand reaches for the other, trying to loosen her up by pinching it between a thumb and an index finger. 

“Rafe…” 

“What? You want more? I’ll give you more, alright?” There’s almost a primal urge in the way he pushes in deeper; forcing a loud noise to tumble from the back of her throat when he begins to fill her up to the hilt. 

“There you go, taking it like a good fucking puppy, yeah?” He groans against her neck when her nails sink into his back muscles, scratching downwards and surely leaving marks.  

Then he’s flipping her over onto her stomach with one swift movement, pushing all the way in once more; fitting snugly inside as her walls flutter around him. 

She cries out at the new angle his cock is now poking at her insides as he shoves her face into the couch cushions with each jostle of his hips against her. And he’s not gentle, she’s not even sure he knows what the word means as he keeps stuffing her full over and over again; making her see stars when she can almost feel her orgasm on the tips of her fingers.  

“Such a filthy slut, aren’t ya? Letting a complete stranger fuck you like this in your own house?” A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he keeps nudging at the spongy spot inside her; her loud moans echoing around the room and she feels so good she thinks she’s gonna pass out. 

“Should stay here for longer, yeah? Just fuck this tight little cunt whenever I get bored, hm?” He pants, mouthing at her neck as his thrusts begin to grow lazy. 

And she has half the mind to agree. 

[spider-stark]

EVERYTHING

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker doesn't make any sense—and trying to understand him is getting to be exhausting.

Warnings - fem!reader, reader worked at a brothel, subtle hints at past abuse, some major dog / master symbolism idfk, mentions of blood/weapons, close proximity, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED SO IF THERE'S A TYPO IDK

Word Count - 3.8k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Touch me.” 

You’ve only just slipped inside Kaz Brekker’s room at the Slat, and you’re convinced you’ve misheard him. The door’s still cracked, after all—and the mindless clamor of those playing cards down in the foyer is loud enough to play tricks on anyone’s ears. 

You push the door shut, habit making you click the lock into place before spinning around to face him. “Pardon?” 

The lanterns burn low, dim light chasing shadows across the spacious attic. Kaz stands over by his desk, leaning his weight against the edge in lieu of his cane. He’s dragging a gloved hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he snaps. 

Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. “We both know I’m a shit actor, Brekker.” 

It’s why you’re never picked when the Dreg’s need a decoy—some girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesper’s words, you’re so socially inept that you’d probably blow the operation before it even got started.

To your dismay, Kaz doesn’t repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, “Why are you here?” 

Your brow quirks. “At the Slat?” 

“In my room.” 

The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? It’s not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet he’d caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs. 

Then again, that’s not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesn’t he? 

In the year since you joined the Dregs, you’d earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastard’s Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, you’re sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy. 

You tell yourself it’s because that’s your job—to keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devil’s got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesn’t really need protection. 

So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around? 

Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one. 

“You should play games with them sometimes,” you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. “It makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.” 

Kaz drums one finger against the desk. It’s an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. “I am a recluse,” he grinds out. 

You almost snort. Clearly. 

It’s not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friends—and none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think they’ll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you don’t think it’d kill him to try being a little more sociable. 

The others would like having him around. 

You like having him around. 

“I’ll ask one more time.” Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. “Why are you here?” 

A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth. 

“I got bored playing,” you tell him. “And Jesper’s cheating, anyway.” 

“They’re all cheating,” Kaz points out. 

“But Jesper’s bad at it,” you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, “It ruins the fun.” 

His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. You’re overcome with the distinct feeling that you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. 

Probably because you are. 

You’ve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist. 

You tell yourself it’s dread. Anxiety for what’s to come. 

“From where I was standing,” Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, “you looked to be having plenty of…” A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. “Fun.” 

There’s something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Or—perhaps the most unlikely of the options—some sort of plea? 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door. 

Kaz shakes his head. “It means what it means.” 

As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. It’s always bothering him by this point in the night. 

“Go back downstairs.” An order—not a suggestion. 

Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. It’s a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic. 

You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you. 

“Why?”  you ask, riding out your little bold streak. “So you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?” 

“I’m not griping,” Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping. 

“Griping, carping, quibbling, or complaining—doesn’t matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.” 

He’s not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe that’s why you don’t need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks. 

“Go downstairs.” 

“I will,” you vow. “After you explain what you meant.” 

Frustrated, he insists, “There’s nothing to explain.” 

“What did you say when I came in?” 

“Go downstairs.” 

You throw your hands up. “If you won’t tell me what you said, then at least explain why ‘fun’ is such a problem!” 

“Go. Down. Stairs.” 

“Make me.” 

Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you don’t miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk. 

“Do you know why I brought you in?” 

For a moment, it’s all you can do to blink at him. Because, no—you don’t know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs. 

You’re not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. You’re decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones you’ve only learned since joining the gang. 

Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shop—the nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam. 

“Because you’re secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?” You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past. 

But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past him—evident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone. 

Fortunately for you, being observant doesn’t equate to being consoling, and so he doesn’t mention it. 

“Because you didn’t make me sick,” he answers, low and even. You’re not so sure if it’s an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, “It was late. And raining. I’d just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleeder—made a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought I’d avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.” Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think that’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.” 

You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what you’d consider helpless. 

“So, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?” That whole night was spotty for you, the panic you’d felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete. 

“Inej had told me about you,” Kaz says. “That Pekka Rollins got a new girl—an escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.” 

You didn’t know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isn’t the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everything—and all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, you’re not sure you’re catching his point with all this. 

As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, “Maybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollins’ escape artist was.” His head tilts slightly. “Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone to see me when I wasn’t looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing you’d be a part of my crew.” 

Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, you’re still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth it—or why he bothered. 

“You’re not making any sense, Brekker,” you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. “Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause I’m… fast?” 

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. 

You’re no faster than anyone else—and you certainly hadn’t been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollins’ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way. 

“No.” Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “I wanted you-”

Kaz doesn’t finish that thought. 

A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.

Instead, you hear Jesper’s boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernible—vase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.

A smile sneaks up on you. 

But, when you turn back to Kaz, it’s promptly wiped away. 

He looks like he’s had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. “What’s going on with you and Van Eck?” 

You blink. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

You did—but hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and it’s seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. What’s Wylan have to do with any of this? 

“I don’t get what you’re asking.” 

“Stop making me repeat myself.” 

“Then stop being so confusing, Brekker!” you huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t understand-”

Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, “Are you fucking him?” 

Shock. Confusion. 

They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kaz’s scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something. 

“I have work to do,” he says stiffly. “Go downstairs.” 

Your feet stay firmly planted, the desk’s width all that separates the two of you. “Why would you think that?” 

Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylan’s probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territory—both of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in. 

You’re not fucking him, though. 

Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. “Go downstairs.” 

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?” you ask, almost taunting. 

“Go.” The word strains between his teeth. “Now.” 

For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension. 

It was excitement. Anticipation. 

You’ve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attention—and like a dog waiting at its master’s feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist. 

So long as it comes. So long as he notices you. 

“What did you say when I came in?” You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. “Tell me.” 

Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out. 

Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them. 

“You’ve heard what they say about me.” You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. “Brekker’s Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and they’ll say the same—the only way I’d have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!” And even then, it wouldn’t be Wylan. 

A steel rod takes the place of Kaz’s spine, turning your words over in his head. “Fine. Maybe you haven’t,” he relents. “But you want to.” 

It’s a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that. 

You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. “Saints, Kaz. What’s your deal?” 

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again. 

“I saw you downstairs,” he says. “Touching Van Eck.” 

Your brows lift, fists clenching. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadn’t been a bold-faced lie! 

But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticed—Shit. 

Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right? 

It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that he’d poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. You’d leaned in close to point it out to Wylan—your hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchling’s ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling. 

Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan. 

But, even if there was, why would Kaz care? 

I saw you—touching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me. 

All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks. 

That night behind the brothels—when you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blur—and when you’d seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadn’t thought twice before wiping it away. 

You’d done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin. 

Because you didn’t make me sick. 

When you don’t speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. “You won’t try and deny it?” he asks. 

Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you don’t. 

Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slow—cautious. 

You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. You’re standing closer than you’d usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows. 

“You should go downstairs,” he tells you, lower than before. 

Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. “Is that what you want?” 

His answer hides in silence so thick it’s a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like it’s tied in knots. 

Suddenly, you don’t need him to repeat what he’d said. 

As always, Kaz was right—you'd heard him the first time. 

“Ask me again.” The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. “Ask me and I’ll do it.” 

Kaz gives you a look, one you’ve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress and—and Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine. 

In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, “Touch me.” 

So you do. 

You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once more—but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away. 

“You know, to be such a bastard,” you start, a note of teasing in your voice, “you’re awfully pretty, Brekker.” 

Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks. 

“Shut up,” Kaz grumbles. 

You grin. “Want me to go downstairs?” 

A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap. 

For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legs—careful for his bad one—and settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that you’re straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe. 

“Should I take that as a no?” It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting. 

He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. “Do I always have to repeat myself around you?” he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You don’t think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is good—because you’re pretty sure you just forgot how to speak. 

Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studied—the way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if you’re a magic trick he’s yet to master, a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out. 

“It’s not because you’re fast,” he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that he’s referring to your earlier question—Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? 

“Good,” you manage. “Because I’m not.” 

The slightest twitch of a smile. “No.” He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. “You’re not.” 

“But I didn’t make you sick.” You’re not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling. 

The Bastard’s Pet. Is that truly all you are? All you’re worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekker’s feet. 

As if he can read your mind, Kaz’s hand goes still against your side. “Wipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I would’ve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.”

You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breath—or the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core. 

Gruff, Kaz continues, “You were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.” His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. “It was ignorant,” he tells you. “And… decent. Innocent.” 

You almost laugh. Innocent. That’s hardly a word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck. 

“I didn’t know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.” His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. “Even if you never touched me again, I wasn’t gonna let Pekka Rollin’s crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.” 

“So that’s the answer?” you ask, nibbling on your lip. “I’m in the Dregs cause I’m innocent?” What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted? 

“You’re in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,” Kaz answers, holding your gaze. “How to get up and try again, no matter how many times you’re knocked down.” The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. “Because you’re a survivor.” Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. “Because you’re loyal,” he starts, and it’s almost reverent the way he almost whispers, “my perfect little pet.” 

The world grinds to a halt. 

Outside of this room—this moment—nothing exists. 

Too quiet, you ask, “What do you want from me, Kaz?” 

You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half. 

If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as he’d let me. 

That’s the trouble with dogs. They’re loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever they’re given. They’ll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed. 

When it comes to Kaz Brekker, you’ll take whatever he has to give. 

And you’ll never stop begging for more, more, more. 

“Everything.” His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. “I want everything.”

a/n - just in case anyone couldn't tell, i obviously just finished reading six of crows (yeah ik i'm very late to the party). i randomly started writing this while i was stuck in traffic and it just sort of spiraled over the past 24 hours and now here we are! this was born! idk if i'll get anymore kaz ideas, but it was fun writing something more dialogue heavy (dialogue has my heart<3)

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Miscalculation

AN: I don't write nearly enough for Felix. Luckily, that SKZCode lab episode planted this idea in my head, and it's taken a viciously hold on me. Also, just to be super clear, despite Reader being a year old experiment, she's very much an adult. She came into the world that way. Also also, I edited this while sleepy so, hopefully it's coherent lol.

Synopsis: Your first heat hits you unexpectedly and violently one day. Thankfully, your favourite person pays you a visit in an attempt to comfort you through it. However, you both severely underestimate just how much your heat affects you. Especially around him.

General tags and warnings: Lee Felix x Fem! Reader, Scientist! Felix, Cat hybrid! Reader, lots of unethical research, Reader is an experiment, Felix tries his best to humanise Reader, doesn't really apply here but, since Reader is an experiment and Felix is a scientist there is the potential for a power imbalance, Reader is in heat, Reader is manipulative and maybe in love with Felix and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: heavy dubcon, mentions of masturbation and exploration of sexuality, virgin! Reader, kind of sort of fingering (f. receiving), humping/grinding, over the clothes touching, scent kink of sorts, clothes being ripped, nipple play (m. receiving), Reader takes charge a lot throughout this, little to no foreplay for Reader and a very unrealistic first time, piv sex without a condom, marking and clawing (m. receiving), biting (m. receiving), one mention of blood, possessiveness from Reader, dirty talk, praise and creampie.

Word count: 3.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Everything burns. 

Your blankets are a crumpled mess on your floor because you're certain you'll shred them into pieces with your claws if they so much as touch your overheated body right now. The persistent buzz of the air conditioner brings you no comfort. Sweat dots your forehead and you'd take off the oversized shirt that clings to your body within an instant if Doctor Bang, red faced and avoiding your frustrated gaze, hadn't insisted on some sense of propriety. Aren't these men supposed to be doctors? Trained medical professionals? Have they never seen a naked body before? He's lucky that he's the only one out of the three older men that you can somewhat stomach because if Doctor Lee or Doctor Seo had suggested you cover yourself, you would have hissed and clawed at them. 

A frustrated noise builds from the back of your throat when you can feel your sheets starting to grow damp underneath you. You've already had to change them five times in the past two days and, you feel like you're losing your mind. Actually, you just might be. Worse than the burning that emanates through your entire body and the non-stop sweat that clings to your skin no matter how many ice-cold showers you take, is the perpetual ache between your thighs. You're not stupid. This lab may be all that you've known for the entire year of your life but, you have basic instincts and common sense. Coupled with all of the sessions you're forced to sit through with Doctor Bang in an attempt to understand you and aid you in understanding yourself, you're more than aware you're aroused right now. Or ‘wet’ as Doctor Lee and Doctor Seo put it, much to the dismay of the older of the three. 

You just don't understand why. 

In the rare moments that you've wondered about your sexuality and sex in these sterile walls, it's rarely gone beyond a few curious pokes and prods at yourself. It's mostly been a neutral experience and you didn't derive much pleasure out of it. You're sure your limited knowledge and experience on the matter has hindered your ability to enjoy masturbation much but, it's not as though the four men will just give you the material or knowledge to help pleasure yourself. You're not even sure you care all that much.

Except for when you do. Thinking back to quiet nights where the silence and loneliness of the lab was too much for your mind to handle and masturbation crossed it as a hope for distraction. A brief escape from the life you've been forced to endure. So, you tried it. Flashes of a kind smile and blonde hair making your stomach twist in a way that wasn't unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Full lips and memories of a deep voice causing arousal to trickle onto your inexperienced fingers. You'd even managed to make yourself orgasm once. It was one of the few sincerely pleasant moments you've had. 

The rest centred around him too. 

“–she's deep in heat right now, Lix.” You recognise the voice as that of Doctor Bang. Your ears twitch atop your head in interest at the conversation he's having with the only doctor you've grown fond of. You're always grateful for your hearing abilities in moments like these. 

“We can't just keep her in the dark,” Felix argues and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Electricity zipping through you just at the sound of his voice and the knowledge that he's just beyond your bedroom door. The throbbing between your thighs worsens. 

“I know,” Doctor Bang sighs, “but, we won't be getting a shipment of suppressants until three days from now. We're just going to have to wait it out.” 

“We?” Comes Felix's incredulous reply, “We're not the ones suffering right now. I went to visit her last night Chris,” your eyes widen at the confession, “She was burning up and covered in sweat and, she's only had to deal with two days of it. You know it's not fair to her.” 

“What do you want us to do, Felix?” The older man argues, his voice heavy with frustration. 

“Treat her like a fucking person,” the younger man argues just as frustrated, “Tell her what's going on. We know she's incredibly smart. Maybe she has some biological way to make herself feel better that we haven't thought about or explored.” 

Silence stretches between the two for a few, long moments. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” comes Doctor Bang's resigned reply, “Look Lix, I know that you care about her and the two of you have always been close. Too close for what could be considered appropriate,” you snort at that. Now he cares about ethics and what's appropriate? How funny. “But, Minho, Changbin and I care about her too. She's not just some experiment to us,” you find that hard to believe, “We just know when it's appropriate to step back and keep our distance. This is one of those times. We're going to try and help her through it as best as we can but, we're going to wait for the suppressants then feed them to her. That's it. End of discussion.” The sounds of footsteps echoing through the hallway are all that accompany his words. 

Well, at least you finally know what's wrong with you. You're in heat. Something they've apparently known you're capable of experiencing and have been suppressing since you gained consciousness. The fact that they're so blasé about letting you suffer in your room and wait days until you're able to find any kind of reprieve boils your blood in a way that has nothing to do with your biology. Yeah, so much for caring about you. You haven't even seen Doctor Seo and Doctor Lee since your symptoms first started. You don't even notice your claws prodding in your anger. You should have attempted to escape on those rare trips Felix had taken you outside of the lab. Consequences be damned. At least you'd have a shot at a normal life. You should have never let his warm eyes and compassion keep you coming back to this hellhole. 

Your furious, internal tirade is interrupted by your door sliding open. You don't have to turn around to know that it's Felix. His scent always betrays him before anything else. The familiar mix of bamboo and vanilla hit your senses. However, unlike the other times you'd bask in his scent, now it worsens the thundering of your heart and you notice the slick between your thighs increasing. 

“Hey,” he says gently, shutting the door behind him. All you can think to do is stare at your wall wide eyed as his scent grows closer with every step he takes towards your bed. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth just at the smell of him and the soft timber of his voice adds to the pit forming in your stomach. Your hands desperately grabbing at your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It's just Felix.  

“I just wanted to check up on you,” he adds when his greeting is met with silence. You have to fight extremely hard to not let your tail move wildly and to keep your claws retracted when he sits down on the edge of your bed. Fuck. He's so close now and his scent is overwhelming. The smell that used to bring you comfort now puts you on edge. A feeling that you've only felt sparks of now sets your entire body alight and the ache between your thighs starts to become unbearable. He needs to leave before your heat causes you to do something very, very stupid. 

“I know you've been struggling a lot lately,” the apologetic tone to his voice melts your heart and your impulses yell at you to crawl into his lap and nuzzle at him until he no longer sounds upset, “I'm sorry. We should have told you this when it started but, you're in heat. That's what's causing you to feel this way,” he explains, as though you hadn't overheard (more like intentionally listened in on) his conversation with Doctor Bang. 

“I know you're probably mad at us, at me,” you want to tell him no, you could never be mad at him but, you're afraid that if you speak now, you'll say something you can't take back, “I'm truly sorry. The suppressants will be here in a few days. Till then though, I'm here for you,” he says softly, laying a hand gently on your arm in what you assume is an act of comfort but, it has the complete opposite effect. 

Your blood turns molten in your veins and the fog that's been on the edges of your mind swallows it whole. All you can think about is getting your hands on him. Touching him. Feeling him. Mating with him. You've never felt more animal than human. 

One of the major perks of being a cat hybrid, you've come to learn, is your quick movements. Before Felix can process it, you're sitting up and pressed to his side within an instant. The confusion and concern on his handsome face is so endearing. He's so cute. You just want to devour him. 

“Felix,” your voice sounds near unrecognisable to even your own ears, “I want you to help me with my heat,” you practically purr into his shoulder. Grasping his arm and delighting in the pretty flush that spreads across his face. The ache of your canines extending doesn't bother you in the slightest. Your mind focused on nothing else but, the man that's been your lifeline for the past year. 

“I–I um I ca–can't do that,” he explains, his voice sounding strained. His attempt to pull his arm away proves to be futile. Not that he was trying particularly hard anyway. “But, Lix,” you whine, pushing your body closer to his, your breasts pressing against his arm, “Didn't you say you'd help me?” 

The way he attempts to stammer out a reply just makes him so much cuter to you. Nothing but, instinct driving you to press yourself even closer to him. Delighting in the shudder you feel run through his body when your breath hits his exposed neck. “Don't you want to help me, Felix?” You ask with a desperate edge to your hoarse voice, one of your hands travelling down the span of his lab coat until you reach his soft hand. Moving it until it's between your slick covered, inner thighs, “It hurts, Lix.” 

Felix, for his part, looks absolutely shell-shocked. Warm, panicked brown eyes staring at you unblinkingly but, he doesn't move his hand. Not even when your own is no longer holding it. Your body moves on its own. Hips chasing the brush that his fingers offer. Your lashes fluttering at the pleasure courses through you. You feel so sensitive, even his barely there touch is enough to cause you to gush further onto his fingers. 

And Felix watches it all. Watches the way you clumsily try to hump his fingers. Watches the minute expressions of relief and desire and frustration that all cross your beautiful face. Watches the way your canines sink into your bottom lip. Feels the way your sharp claws dig into his lap coat. He doesn't miss a thing. 

Impulse and maybe a fraction of ration desire push you to tug on his button up shirt and kiss him. You're moving completely on what feels natural and what you've seen a couple of movies he's watched with you. It takes him a second to kiss you back. Tentatively following the movements of your lips and guiding you in more comfortable and enjoyable directions. You swallow his stuttered groan greedily when your tongue invades his mouth. Searching for more of him to explore. To taste. To burn into your memory. 

As nice as it feels to kiss him like you've thought about far too many times in the silence of your room and, use his fingers and hand to help satiate the persistent ache that sits in the pit of your stomach, it still all isn't enough. Not even close. This time, you moan into his mouth when one of your hands snakes its way down the front of his body until it comes to rest on his lap. A particularly painful throb coming from the apex of your thighs when you feel how hard he is beneath your touch. 

“So you do want this just as much as I do,” you sigh dreamily against his lips, sparks of desire shooting through your entire body with every palm of your hand over his clothed cock. All of his adorable, little noises making your walls clench. You don't think you've ever felt pain like this in your entire, short life. Saliva pools in your mouth as his scent wafts to you. Much heavier and headier than earlier. Beneath the anxiety and fear, the arousal makes its presence known clear as day. 

“W–Wait, I–” Whatever he was going to say is cut short by you shoving him onto your bed. His wide eyes, pupils blown out and completely swallowing his irises, meeting your lidded ones as he watches you straddle his slender hips. You've always thought he was a good-looking man but, he looks even better like this, underneath you. 

Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head when you press down on him. Your drenched folds coming in contact with the evident bulge in his dress pants. Resting your palms on his stomach, you start to move. Chasing the friction against your clit desperately. Not caring all about the mess you're making of his pants. Your eyes focused on watching the way he tries very, very hard not to lose himself in the way you grind against him. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he lays there and let's you use him. 

Fuck. What a cutie. 

His eyes shoot to your face when you use your claws to rip his blue button up open. While the colour looks absolutely lovely on him, you much prefer the sight of his bare chest. Your tongue running over your teeth at all the skin that you now have access to. 

“He–Hey, I think we should calm d–down a bit and–” Felix tries to interject, the drop in octave of his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you. You disregard his words easily. Leaning down to shut him up with your mouth while your hands busy themselves with exploring his chest. Your canines nipping his bottom lip when he gasps into you while you trace his nipples with your claws. Sensitive too. Perfect. 

“Why stop when I can feel how hard you are for me, Lixie?” You whisper against his full lips, fingers tracing random patterns into his nipples. His hips jutting up to meet your drenched core every time you touch him a little too harshly or drag yourself along his entire length. 

“Don't you want to just give in?” You ask, meeting his blown out eyes as your hands move their way along his lithe body until they reach his belt buckle. 

“I–I–” he stutters out when you sit back up so you can gain a better view of his frustrating belt. He must see you preparing to rip his pants off too because he stops you immediately, “I–It's okay, I got um it,” he quickly responds. You shift down him a little to provide him with space to unbuckle his belt. Fortunately, he doesn't take too long. You're sure your impatience is rolling off of you in waves. 

Much to your surprise given how bashful he's been, he tugs his pants and boxers down in one go. His hard, pre-cum covered cock slapping against his stomach in his rush, his eyes pointedly looking at everywhere but, you. 

It's one thing to feel him, it's a whole different matter entirely to have his cock right there, ready for the taking. And take, you do. It's adorable how red his face is and the way he sneaks glances at you shyly when you shift back up his body until your dripping pussy is hovering over his twitching cock. Your shirt sticks to your damp body uncomfortably and, the reminder that you're still wearing it is an unwelcome one. So, you simply tug it off. Exposing yourself freely and readily to his shy eyes. 

Not that he's all that shy when you're bare for him to fully drink in. Bruised lips parting as he watches you grasp his cock with an impatient hand and align it with your dripping hole. He doesn't stop you when you begin to sink down onto him. Strained whimpers falling from his pretty mouth with every inch you eagerly swallow. The stretch only stings a little. The sensation of his scorching cock dragging along your walls more than makes up for it. It's your turn to moan once he's fully sheathed inside of you. Your clumsy attempts with your fingers don't hold a candle to this. 

The way Felix chokes on your name when you start to move will forever be etched into your memory. The pleasure clear as day on his face spurs you along with the desire to feel him inside of you for as long as you can. To make love with him in this awful place that only he gave any semblance of meaning to. To mate with him. 

You lose yourself in the way his cock feels easily. Fluttering lashes threatening to shut every time he hits a spot inside of you that makes your pace falter and your claws dig into his soft stomach. The faint, pink lines that decorate his skin cause you to preen. They look gorgeous on his skin. They look like they belong there. Like they were meant to be there. Based on the way his hooded eyes switch from watching the expressions your face morphs into, the way your breasts bounce with every movement on his cock and the way you swallow as much of him as you can, you don't think he minds or cares all that much. 

Your skin grows impossibly hotter when his hands touch you. He's careful. Watching for any discomfort but, there's none to be found. If anything, you revel in the gentle hold his hands take of your hips. Not controlling your movements but just enjoying touching you while you bounce on his cock. 

You might actually love him. 

The thought prompts you to lean down and smash your lips to his once more. The metallic tang of blood lets you know that you nipped him too hard but he doesn't care all that much. Letting you take everything you need from him right now while he lets you. You can feel the way he throbs inside of you. He tries to stop himself but, you notice the way his hips sometimes jerk up to meet you, to move with you. And the knowledge that, on some level, he wants you just as much as you want him sends you into overdrive. 

His sharp inhale echoes through your room when you sink your canines into his neck. The punctures aren't deep but, they're more than enough to satisfy you. You're not sure why or how you knew to do that but, instinct has been your driving force all night and you're going to continue to trust it. 

“We're mated now,” you sigh, thumbing his flushed cheek. 

He just looks up at you for a moment, attempting to digest your words before responding, “Mate–Mated?” 

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, purring when you notice the way his twitches like crazy inside of you, “You're my mate now, and I'm yours,” you explain breathlessly. A tension you're barely familiar with building in the pit of your gut that you chase. 

“But we fuck can't–” his sentence is cut off by the drawn out moans from the depths of his chest, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when you pick up your pace. He looks so attractive like this. A bruise already forming on his neck and his chest littered with faint marks from your claws. He's gorgeous. 

“I'm ah cl–close,” he gasps out, his glazed eyes meeting yours and his hands desperately gripping your hips, “You need to shit st–stop,” he manages to stutter out. You think it's amusing that he thinks you're going to stop now. Especially when you're just about to get what you want. Leaning down to his ear, you whisper, “Why, Lixie? You look so cute like this. Why would I ever want to stop?” You smile when you hear the way he whimpers and his cock pulses harder inside of you, “Don't you want to cum inside me?” His hold on you grows tighter, “I want you to. I want you to cum inside me until it's spilling out of me,” you emphasise your point by intentionally clenching around him, “For days.” 

That's all it takes for him to break. His cock throbbing as he shoots his cum into the deepest part of you. A mix of his whimpers and strangled moans of your name tickle your ears as his cum fills your eagerly awaiting pussy. Your tail swishes in glee and your ears twitch in happiness. Your own orgasm creeping up on you when you feel the last of his cum spill into you. Truly, the late nights alone in your bed could never compare to this. To him. Your first orgasm could never hold a candle to this. Your entire body is riddled with quivers and shakes, your wetness gushing onto Felix's softening cock. Your thighs are sticky with cum and you're drenched in sweat but, you've never been more at peace. 

For some time, your shared laboured breathing is the only sound in your room. Fondness bubbles up inside of you when you glance at his flushed, sweaty face. His golden hair sticking to his forehead while he takes some time to come back to himself. Your fingers move before you can even think about it. The fog retreating slightly while you play with his hair and enjoy the simple pleasure of watching him while your combined releases trickle out of you. Much to your displeasure.  

You smile at him when he finally blinks his eyes open to meet yours. Your fingers ghosting over his mate mark as something primal and affectionate simmers in the pit of your stomach. He really is yours now. Your tail wraps around his leg without you even noticing. 

The smile he gives you is small but, it's still one of his smiles and the way your heart hammers in your chest lets you know he really was meant to be your mate. 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[etherealising]

a buried and a burning flame

part two out now!

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: constantly arguing with your student’s father wasn’t on your bucket list for this school year, but how can you stop when he just makes it so easy to get under his skin? based on this request.

warning(s): implied age-gap | misogyny | angst | make out session | heavy petting | dry humping | borderline exhibitionism | minimal editing |

wc: 11k

A wide forced smile graced your lips as you looked at the very obviously out-of-place man sitting in the small classroom chair that was usually occupied by the small bodies of your second graders. Your foot tapped impatiently as you waited for the line to connect, the last call went straight to voicemail and you were begging the universe for it not to happen this time as you felt the heat of the man's scowl sear into you.

“Hello, this is Tiffany Gattina speaking.”

You perked up as soon as you heard a greeting, “Ms. Gattina?” You listened as she repeated your name, relief flooding through you that you’d finally gotten ahold of the woman.

“Yes, hi it’s me.” You cringed at the immediate panic running through the woman’s voice. “No, no Eva’s perfectly fine, but there is an uh…Mr. Jerimovich here claiming to be her father.” You looked up, the man’s loud scoff sent a wave of irritation through you, the urge to roll your eyes growing the longer the two of you stared at each other.

Your attention was pulled back to the phone as you listened to the woman you were used to seeing during pickups explain their familial situation to you. “Thank you for clarifying, but seeing as he isn’t listed on her yellow card, legally I’m not allowed to let him take her off of school premises.”

The sound of Mr. Jerimovich releasing a disbelieving laugh caused you to grit your teeth, your body swiveling around so he was forced to glare at your back.

“Shit, okay I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You listened through the phone as Ms. Gattina shuffled around, her keys jangled as the line went dead before you’d even got the chance to say goodbye.

It was immature but you stood against the wall with the phone to your ear for a few minutes more, quiet hums leaving your lips to give the illusion you were still speaking with someone so you wouldn’t have to be subjected to spending too much time alone with the irate older man. The cold tiny fingers patting your elbow made you jump, eyes finding Eva’s small figure looking up at you as she waited for you to hang up the phone. A feeling of guilt raced through you as your eyes darted to her childlike smile, while you were here trying to avoid her father you were also avoiding Eva.

You felt ridiculous saying goodbye to a dial tone before moving to place the phone back on the receiver mounted to the wall, “What can I do for you, Miss Eva?” You smiled as her nose scrunched up watching as she waved for you to bend down so she could whisper in your ear.

“Is it okay if I go to the reading corner?” You let out a quiet laugh at her question as you stood up nodding your head and watching as her face lit up in excitement.

“Just remember to put the books back where they go.” You watched as she skipped over to the decorated corner, a smile lining your lips at all the work you put into making your classroom as inviting and comfortable to your kids as ever, but the thought slowly dwindled as you remembered why exactly she was here after hours.

A small sigh escaped you at the loud noise leaving the intruder’s phone followed by his equally as loud commentary, the sounds bouncing off the once quiet walls of your classroom made you want to scream. You walked to your desk opening a drawer and shuffling through the files in hopes that you’d find an extra yellow card. The universe was on your side as you pulled a blank yellow card out, smoothing the crease out in one of the corners. If this man was gonna take up space in your classroom, the least he could do was fill the card out so the two of you didn’t have to repeat this interaction.

You had to steel your nerves before standing up, reaching to pull a pen out of the cup on your desk before approaching the boisterous man with all the false confidence you could muster. You stopped in front of him clearing your throat to gain his attention and forcing yourself not to snap as he leisurely looked up at you before his gaze returned to his phone, you had to stop your mouth from dropping open at the blatant disrespect before composing yourself as he locked his phone and placed it face down on the table.

“Mr. Jerimovich-,” Your words were interrupted by the screeching of the chair legs against the linoleum eyes watching as the man raised to his full height and impeded on your space.

“Listen, sweetheart,” you raised your brows at the nickname eyes locked on his. “I’m just here to get my little girl alright. And there was no need for you to go snitchin’ to her mom and shit.”

Your eyebrows rose further up your face, eyes darting to Eva to ensure she wasn’t privy to this dispute, tuning out her father as he kept running his mouth. Your head snapped back in his direction as you caught the last of his tirade, his words implied that you were unqualified to even be a teacher.

“Listen Mr. Jerimovich.” You paused, sending him your most condescending smile. “Let me paint you a little picture, let's say I don’t know, corner store Joe comes up to the school during dismissal tomorrow points at that sweet little girl over there, and spins some story about being her uncle. Have I lost you yet?”

There was venom in your words as you watched him roll his eyes before nodding for you to continue. “I would be a shit teacher to send that precious girl off with the first person who tried to claim her. So maybe you are her father. I'm not taking that away from you, but until Ms. Gattina walks through that door and confirms your identity, I am not letting Eva out of my sight. Understand me?”

His eyes hadn’t left yours through your whole spiel, darting between them as he let your words sink into him, you watched on as he reluctantly nodded a feeling of triumph raced through you.

“Great, now you’re gonna sit back down and you’re going to spend the rest of the time you're here feeling out this information card, okay?” You pressed the yellow card and pen into his chest, your eyes falling to the “Original Berf” logo before looking back at him once more.

The cold metal on his hand brushed against yours as he grabbed the materials from you, the gold wedding band on his finger drew your attention, the sight of it intriguing you. You watched him in curiosity as he sat down grumbling words under his breath you couldn’t even begin to understand, your staring was interrupted as he shot you an annoyed look, eyes looking you up and down trying to figure out why you were hovering.

Irritation radiated off of him as he waited for you to take your leave, the glare in his eyes loud and clear that your presence was no longer welcome. You sent him one last forced smile before turning on your heels to utilize however long you were stuck with him to grade and go over lesson plans.

You stopped in your tracks as something occurred to you, the noise of your shoes hit the linoleum as you made your way back to him, “One more thing Mr. Jerimovich, don’t ever cuss in my classroom again.” Your words were punctuated by a saccharine smile, his lips rolling in as he repressed himself from saying something he might regret.

Teaching children right from wrong would always fill you with a sense of purpose, but having to deal with their asshole parents made you question your career choice more times than you’d like to admit.

The last thing you wanted to spend the end of your Friday doing was trying to play mediator between two grown men who couldn’t accept the faults of their children. As soon as you sat them down and began to explain the situation, you became the bad guy, and when they weren’t jumping down your throat, they were having a screaming match with each other, you only hoped Mrs. Monroe across the hall was having an easier time occupying the two children she’d agreed to keep company for the time being.

A lull in the screaming match allowed you to speak up. “I understand the urge to defend your children and while I respect it, please let me explain the full incident.” Neither man said anything as they looked at you, both of them giving off the impression that they’d rather be anywhere else than here listening to you.

“During arts and crafts time there was a bit of misunderstanding between Noah and Eva. I’m not exactly sure how it started as I was helping another student bu-,” You paused as Mr. Vanderbilt let out a disbelieving laugh, his hand waving off your silence to get you to continue.

Your fingers dug into the fabric of your pants as you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t just assault your student's parents, you cleared your throat before continuing. “Mr. Vanderbilt, your son threw a pair of scissors at another student. And while I’m sure you have more pressing matters to deal with, this is Noah’s third write-up this month.” You watched the agitation rise on his face, his mouth moving to form sentences before you spoke over him, “And regardless of his age, his actions fall under the category of assault, and as I’m sure you know this is a zero-tolerance campus.”

There wasn’t even a few seconds of silence between your words before the man spoke up. “I can assure you it was an accident and had you been paying attention to all of your students, I’m sure me and Mr. Jerimovich wouldn’t have to be here wasting our time.” You watched on in disbelief as his hands raised lazily to unbutton his suit jacket which probably cost more than your yearly salary.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to gather your thoughts in the most professional way possible whatever you had to say not seeing the light of day. “This child Ava, was she injured? If not then I really don’t see why I’m here in the first place.”

“Her names Eva you fuckin’ jagoff.” Mr. Jerimovich’s loud voice rang through your ears, and you could see you were once again losing control of the situation.

The more boisterous of the two men turned in his chair, his chest puffed out as though he was preparing himself in case this turned into a physical dispute. Your eyes bounced between them both knowing that Mr. Vanderbilt would be on the phone with his lawyer faster than Mr. Jerimovich could even throw a punch.

“Excuse me!” Your voice raised a few octaves, the overly polite persona you put on fading the longer you sat with them. “While the safety scissors didn’t break skin, there is a bruise on Eva’s collarbone. And you’re here Mr. Vanderbilt because Noah is prone to these outbursts and it’s gotten out of hand now that my other students are at risk of being hurt just because he may be overstimulated. I would appreciate it if you and your wife took the time to find the root of his problems, I mean no disrespect Mr. Vanderbilt but oftentimes this behavior usually begins at home.”

The sneer on Mr. Vanderbilt’s face was the last thing you wanted to see at that moment, you’d had enough experience with privileged and pretentious parents to know your Friday was just going to continue getting worse.

“They just let anyone teach our children nowadays don’t they?” His condescending smile was enough warning on its own. “Noah’s a great kid and listen I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but that’s just how boys are. I think the real issue at hand is the fact that my child’s education has been put in the hands of well…a child. Where did you say you received your degree from again?”

Indignation settled heavily in your chest as you watched a self-assured smirk paint his lips as he rose from his chair. “The way I see it, if you knew how to do your job none of this would’ve happened, I mean how hard is it to babysit a bunch of six-year-olds for a couple of hours?” You watched in silence as he stood to his full height, hands smoothing out his ridiculously expensive suit. “I’ll make sure Principal Pacheco hears about how unqualified you are to be in a classroom.”

The silence was loud as you watched him sashay out of your classroom door, eyes locked on his back the whole time mind racing with what you did in a past life to even deserve half the shit you were subjected to dealing with.

“What a fucking joke.” You jumped in your seat at the gruff voice part of you had forgotten he was there considering his silence, something that shocked you seeing how outspoken he already proved he was. “Asshole dad and asshole kid, am I right? What a fucking prick talkin’ to you like that, yo I don’t know how you put up with that shit.”

You blinked in rapid succession trying to follow his fast-paced words, your mind trying to figure out why he thought he could be so casual with you. You were snapped out of your stupor as he stood long legs leading him to the door, you pushed off the chair moving to meet him before he could step foot outside.

“Mr Jerimovich please wait,” he stopped his movements hand stalled on the door as he looked at you.

“Given the situation, I know it sounds a bit ridiculous, but Eva was also written up today.” You paused watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“After the incident, while I was checking her for any wounds, she began to yell at Noah using…explicit language.” The man’s full body turned to you, his shoulders hunching over as one hand raised to swipe across his mouth, the sound of his incredulous laugh danced through your ears.

“Let me get this straight, some little punk ass kid assaults my little girl, your words. And you write her up because she says a few bad words.” You could understand where his irritation stemmed from, you debated just letting her off with a warning but then other students began repeating her words and the only way for you to help Eva understand the gravity of her actions was to give her consequences.

You began playing with the bracelet on your wrist unsure how much more verbal abuse you could take in one day. Your thoughts raced with the best way to go about this situation and somehow convince him to understand your duty as an educator.

“Between me and you, I don’t think Eva’s reaction was wrong, she’s allowed to feel whatever she needs to. But her response is where I had to draw the line, other students were repeating her words.” You hoped the look in your eyes could convey whose side you were on in this situation.

The man in front of you sucked his teeth as he shook his head, humorless laughter followed, “Is this the shit they teach at whatever fancy-ass little school you went to? She was hurt and probably angry, what the fuck did you expect from her. Listen, lady, I don’t know if you were raised to just roll over and take shit but that’s not how I’m raising my daughter.”

Whatever hold you had on your anger quickly slipped away as he continued speaking, “You don’t get to come into my classroom with your stupid little matching tracksuit and the smell of god-awful food wafting off of you and try to tell me about myself. And you also don’t get to insult my education and upbringing to make yourself feel better about the fact that the only impression you make in your daughter’s life is the string of curse words that constantly leave your mouth.”

He let out a real laugh this time, hands clapping the noise echoed around the mostly silent classroom, “So she can fucking speak up for herself, you’re just full of fuckin’ surprises! Why don’t you just teach my daughter like you’re paid to and leave the parenting to me, sweetheart.”

You weren’t sure when the two of you had gotten so close but you could feel his huffs of breath ghosting across your face, sure he could feel yours as well. It was a few moments of intense eye contact, neither of you wanting to be the first to end it, somehow doing so would be a sign of defeat.

“I would appreciate it from now on if your ex-wife or Eva’s stepfather was my only point of contact where she’s concerned.” Your words were punctuated by your eyes glancing at the gold band on his ring finger.

It was a low blow and although you didn’t particularly like the man in front of you, you knew that he didn’t deserve the blaze of your full anger. But you also didn’t deserve to be consistently disrespected for just trying to do your job.

You watched on a bit guiltily as his face dropped, his eyes darting between yours before settling into slits as he glared at you, his look of disgust making you feel like you needed to exfoliate the whole day away immediately upon returning home.

No more words were exchanged between the two of you. You watched as he turned back to the door to exit once again, his tall lanky body drifted across the hall collecting Eva. You stood in the entrance of your classroom lip tugged between your teeth as you watched them disappear down the hall. A guilty wave was sent to the small smiling child as she eagerly waved goodbye to you.

The classroom was all prepped and ready to go, the assortment of donuts were all lined up separated between vegan from non-vegan. Events like these always had a good turnout, part of you wishing these types of days were around when you were still in school.

You were nervous and while you wanted to believe it was because the school year was slowly coming to an end and you’d need to figure out how you were going to support yourself over summer break, you knew that some of the nerves had to do with being in the presence of a certain student's father.

Trying to occupy your racing mind, you double-checked that the coffee and hot cocoa were warm and ready to be served. You moved to the door of your classroom, eyes tracing over the ‘Donuts with Dad’ sign you’d spent all night making, chuckling at how much effort and creativity you’d put into something that would be gone in an hour or two.

You took your place in front of your classroom door, the time on your watch letting you know the main doors would be opening soon. Swarms of students followed by their father figures walked through the halls, your hand waving to greet the first few pairs to enter your classroom letting them know it was alright to help themselves.

The routine of greetings went on for a little while longer, you’d have to tamp down on the way your eyes constantly roved over the heads of other parents hoping to see the tall lanky figure that for some reason raced through your thoughts no matter how much he infuriated you. It had been a few weeks since the last spat the two of you shared and while he hadn’t stopped picking up or dropping off Eva, not that you actually expected him to. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other in the time between now and then. You weren’t sure what it was but as much as he annoyed the shit out of you, you found yourself missing the irritation he caused you, the way it felt almost fun to have someone push your buttons for the hell of it. It sounded insane the two of you had only met on two occasions and neither of them left a good taste in your mouth but you couldn’t help but want more interactions with him, it was finally getting to your head, spending every waking minute with children was finally pushing you over the edge so much so that you willingly wanted to argue with a parent of your student. Maybe it was time to take your friends up on that offer of a night out.

A parent calling out to you drew your attention, your eyes peeking into the classroom to see that it was pretty much full aside from the obvious missing duo.

The rest of your time was spent with each parent and student duo individually. Checking in to make sure they were all doing okay and answering any questions a parent may have had regarding their students' learning experience. You’d learned from Noah’s uncle who he’d chosen to bring that his parents weren’t as involved in his life as they should’ve been and that he was trying to talk them into getting him into behavioral therapy. You appreciated his honesty and you appreciated even more that he wasn’t quick to write off Noah’s behavior as him just being a boy but mostly you were surprised when Noah shyly handed you a letter of apology a similar one in his hand addressed to Eva.

After your rounds, you relegated yourself to your desk taking the time to answer emails and begin planning end-of-the-year activities, your eyes wandered to Eva’s empty cubby every so often concern sinking into you at her absence. There were about 30 minutes left before the adults would have to begin leaving, you were so engrossed in the pro and con list you made about working during a summer school session that you hadn’t realized the duo patiently standing in front of your desk.

The clearing of a throat jolted you eyes quickly flashing up, the surprise clear on your face. Your eyes darted between Eva and her father before your mind finally began working. “Eva! We were worried you wouldn’t be joining us today. There’s only about 20 minutes left but you're both welcome to enjoy some donuts and drinks.”

You pointed in the direction of the table where the refreshments were situated smiling at Eva as she eagerly bounced away. You were surprised to see her father still standing in front of your desk. The awkward air radiated heavily between the two of you, you could see his mouth opening and closing as though he had something to say but decided against it before turning to catch up with his daughter.

Focusing back on your previous task seemed almost impossible as your ears eagerly listened out for the heavy lilt of a Chicago accent, you didn’t want to seem too eager by approaching the duo so soon, but as the time on the clock continued to tick down you knew you’d have to get it over with.

Quickly standing you smoothed out your blouse before making your way to the table. They were situated at pulling up a chair of your own and trying to ignore the heated glare on the side of your head. “Good morning you two, are you enjoying yourselves?”

Eva’s wide smile punctuated by the faint whipped cream mustache helped to alleviate any lingering doubts that had settled within you. Reluctantly you turned to the only other adult seated at the table; the displeasure of you being seated next to him was evident across his face. You shuffled in your seat feeling uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze, “Is the coffee to your liking?”

It wasn’t much but you couldn’t sit and stew in the awkward tension forever, hoping that although you’d both made horrible first and second impressions of each other you could just let bygones be bygones. You drummed your fingers together as his stare stayed locked on you giving nothing away about his current thoughts.

“Ain’t nothin’ to write home about.” His shoulders shrugged in dismissal as he looked away from you, busying himself with the grade-appropriate decorations around your classroom.

Eva was none the wiser to the bad blood between you and her father as she continued munching on her donut, fingers making shapes out of the crumbs that now decorated her table. You twiddled your thumbs trying to figure out the best way to bring up your next topic of conversation.

You cleared your throat, gaining the older man’s attention once more, “Mr. Jerimovich, I’m not sure if you’ve heard but we have a field trip coming up,” there was no indication on his end that he was listening, just an unnerving blank stare trained on you. “Unfortunately one of our chaperones had to back out at the last minute, and I thought seeing as you haven’t joined us on a field trip this year you might be interested.”

His already too-big body hunched forward, his knee harshly knocking into yours under the table as he leaned into your space across the desk, his movements forced you back sitting ramrod straight in your chair. “Sorry sweetheart, I’m not too sure that’s a good idea and all ya know seeing as how you made it clear I’m a horrible influence on children. Wouldn’t want to corrupt anyone else’s kids.”

You bit your lip hard, the words you said to him all those weeks ago finally coming back to bite you in the ass. You had no one to blame but yourself and as easy as it would’ve been to go tit for tat with him in this moment, you were trying to be the bigger person and put this animosity between the two of you to bed.

A solid hand landing on your shoulder stopped whatever words you were struggling to string together. The unwanted weight caused you to look over your shoulder, surprised to see Noah and his uncle whose name you didn’t remember standing behind the three of you.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but I wanted to make sure Noah apologized while I was still here.” You subtly shrugged hoping he’d get the hint and remove his hand and luckily for you, he did. The sound of a grunt met your ears as your eyes flashed back to the initial pair you were speaking with. Eva’s discomfort was palpable as she held on to her father’s arm, the young girl not too keen on the turn of events, if she was uncomfortable then Mr. Jerimovich was downright murderous in the way he sized the other man up, an unnecessary brawl sure to happen if you didn’t step in.

“Eva sweetie, Noah wrote you a letter to apologize for his actions. If you're interested in accepting it that’s great, but I won’t force you to if you don’t want to.” She nodded shyly at your words as she looked at you, her eyes moving up to look at her father as they spoke to each other in a few glances only they understood.

You wished Noah’s uncle would’ve let you handle the situation how you saw fit instead of bombarding the poor girl, probably making her feel as though she had to accept the letter because she was pressured by his presence. Eva’s eyes found yours once more, a reassuring smile on your lips to assure her whatever decision she made was entirely fine. Her small hand reached out palm face up as she waited for Noah’s letter, the small boy hastily tossing it in her hand while mumbling a reluctant sorry under his breath.

The air was awkward as you waited for the intruders to leave a forced smile drawing to your lips as the man’s hand landed on your shoulder once again this time squeezing it a bit. You let out a sigh of relief when they returned to their previous seats, your thoughts not as jumbled as before as you turned to try and persuade Mr. Jerimovich of your offer.

“You know you got a lot of nerve talkin’ about the impression I make on my daughter, now you’re beggin’ me to save your ass and lettin’ that jagoff fondle you in front of kids. I mean if I’m a shit influence you’re shittier.” He finished his sentence by taking a bite of his donut, the crumbs catching in his facial hair caused your lip to curl up in disgust.

He was lucky Eva had run off to dispose of her trash and that the ruckus of parents getting ready to leave drowned out his words. “Need I remind you Mr. Jerimovich that you are in my classroom, a classroom full of children, and still you don’t have the self-control to control your cussing” You stood up dusting the imaginary crumbs off your pants, “Clean up your mess and make sure you have your life together the next time you step foot in my classroom.”

“Yeah whatever sweetheart I dunno what’s got you wound so tight, but you better take care of it before you end up bitter and alone.”

A sarcastic laugh escaped at the irony of his words, “Remind me again, which one of us still wears the wedding ring from their failed marriage?”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but arguing with him sent you on a power trip of some sort, your hand reached out to break a piece of his donut off before eating it, your own sad little war prize.

His glare was the most vicious it’d ever been as he watched your mouth work around the sweet treat, “I hope you fucking choke.”

“You too sweetheart.” Your smile was a borderline snarl as you moved past him, shoulder-checking him on your way to clean up any leftover messes.

Regret wasn’t something you experienced often but as you stood listening to the tour guide your shoulder bumping into the tall man next to you from time to time, his annoyed huffs of breaths meeting your ears, you realized that you were your own worst enemy.

When you arrived at the school this morning your excitement was at an all-time high. As much as you loved teaching your students it was nice to get out of the classroom and go on field trips, you also appreciated not having to teach for a day. So as you waited with the other second-grade teachers for all the students and chaperones to arrive you were sure nothing could ruin your day, but that all changed when you saw Eva walk up with her very smug-looking asshole of a father.

You hadn’t given it a second thought before you removed yourself from the conversation with Mrs. Monroe legs working overtime to meet up with the father-daughter duo before they could join the rest of the waiting group. Eva smiled brightly as you approached them excitement written across her face the small girl had talked about the trip all week.

“Good morning Ms. Eva, are you ready to explore the museum?” Her head nodded rapidly as she giggled, her hand swinging back and forth in the cage of her fathers, “Why don’t you go join the others while I have a word with your dad.” She nodded, squeezing her father’s hand before taking off across the parking lot to join the growing group of second graders.

Looking at the man standing in front of you, you could see your reflection in the stupid-looking sunglasses he wore, the both of you staring each other down. Your eyebrows furrowed as his hand raised in offering to you, your eyes darting from his face to the slip of paper he was holding out. From the color of it, you knew exactly what it was before grabbing it, the chaperone slip you sent home with Eva and asked to make sure her mother got it.

“You know Mr. Jerimovich, it takes a lot more than filling out a chaperone slip to chaperone a field trip.” You couldn’t help but rub it in his face, a part of you needing to antagonize the older man, to be the winner of every interaction the two of you shared.

His lips curled into a smug smile as he took a step closer to you invading your personal space. The fact that he hadn’t removed his glasses infuriated you, you didn’t enjoy the fact that you could see every emotion racing through your eyes in the reflection while all of his were guarded.

“That little lizard brain of yours sure doesn’t do a lot of thinking does it?” Calling you a lizard was so out of pocket it almost made you laugh, but you bit the inside of your cheek as he continued. “Mrs. Monroe was kind enough to help me through the logistics, bless her heart she also had some choice words about your chicken head ass but I don’t kiss and tell.”

Your arm ached as he rammed his shoulder into it while walking past you to join the group of waiting children and adults. You never hated a student's parent before but something about Mr. Jerimovich just made you tick, and if Eva wasn’t one of your students you surely would’ve ripped him a new one by now.

The conversation happening at the adult's table droned on, you elicited quiet hums in order not to be pulled into the conversation not too keen on making small talk with people you couldn’t care less about.

“Oh Richard, I’ve been meaning to ask about the restaurant. I went by the other day for one of those lovely beef sandwiches but the windows were all boarded up. I hope Michael’s death didn’t ruin the business.” Mrs. Monroe’s voice was laced with what some might call curiosity but you’d known the woman long enough to know she was just a nosey old woman trying to sink her teeth into whatever form of gossip she could.

You had no problem keeping your attention on the complimentary lunch provided by the museum, but then you realized who this mysterious Richard she was speaking to must’ve been and your eyes found the man’s face as he began speaking.

“Nah, just renovating trying to take the restaurant in a new direction.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin, eyes meeting yours before finding Mrs. Monroe to your right.

It was hard to appear disinterested, but it's not like he would willingly divulge any personal information to you. Not that you wanted him to but you couldn’t help but be a little bit curious about the man who raced through your mind every time you ran through hypothetical arguments with him.

“Such a shame that boys dead. A morbid way to go, isn’t it? Shooting yourself in the head.”

The liquid running down your throat came to a stop as you choked on the water. Your airways constricted because of the accidental slip-up, Mrs. Monroe’s blasé way of speaking had caught you completely off guard and now here you were fighting to get air in your lungs as her wrinkled hand patted you on the back.

Relief came soon after, your lungs gulping down the outside air like a fiend, your wide watery eyes locked on electric blue ones across the table. “I’m gonna check on the kids, would you mind helping Mr. Jerimovich?”

It was almost imperceptible but the look of appreciation that ghosted through his eyes was probably the only form of thanks you would get for helping him out of this situation. The two of you rose from your respective seats grabbing your trash before making your exit and stopping by the trash cans before beginning to make your rounds to check in on the students. The air was quiet between the two of you, and not in a comfortable way but more so suffocating.

“So you own a restaurant?” Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything but you weren’t sure how much awkward silence you could take.

You turned to look at him, the two of you stopping in a shaded area of the courtyard, the furrow of his brow enough to let you know he didn’t fancy making small talk with you. You let your eyes fall on all the children, watching as they conversed while eating, doing your best to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

“Nope,” his voice caught you by surprise, gaining your attention as he stared straight ahead. “I’m just some cog in the machine,” His eyes dropped to yours with little to no emotion scattered through them as he looked at you.

A tight smile lined your lips unsure of whether you should keep the conversation going or let it lapse back into silence. “I uh, I’m sorry to hear about your friend, he must've been struggling.”

His loud scoff proved that you’d chosen the wrong topic to fall back on, his body turning to you hostility lined his shoulders as he stood straight up. “You don’t know shit about Mikey.” The snarl decorating his lips was vicious, his eyes darted around your face daring you to speak again.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect it's just-,”

“Just what? Need more leverage to throw in my face the next time you have a little fuckin’ tantrum.” His words were full of anger, eyes lit up in excitement as though he was just waiting for you to bite, to latch onto the bait he’d set out for you.

And you took it just as easily, “A bit full of yourself to think you take up any space in my mind.” You crossed your arms over your chest as the lie left your lips, it's not like he needed to know that though.

He smirked the rise and fall of his chest brushed against your forearms, “You’re a fuckin’ liar.” His voice dropped an octave as his eyes darted around your face before trapping you in his gaze, “You wanna know how I know?”

You didn’t, but that didn’t stop you from nodding your head anyway, anticipation rolling around in your gut as you awaited his words.

“Because I do,” you frowned trying to understand what the hell he was trying to say. “I think about you and that bratty ass mouth of yours.”

His words were like a scrambled puzzle in your mind as your brain worked overtime to try and understand the exact meaning behind his words. It would’ve been presumptuous to believe he meant them in the way your brain was screaming he did, but what else could it mean when a man told you he thought about you?

The sound of a child crying pulled you from your stupor, dissipating whatever tension had risen between you and the man in your personal space. You wanted to say something, needed to say something but it's like your brain had turned to mush, no thoughts made any sense, no sentence structures that could live up to the words he just told you.

So you left. Turned on your heels to find the student whose wails had only grown louder and hoped your brain would return to its default settings sometime soon. Although you knew you would ruminate on his words long after today.

The time on your dashboard told you it was five minutes past the time you agreed upon for the reservation and if you sat in your car any longer your date would consider you a no-show. You sighed grabbing your clutch and keys off of the passenger seat before slowly exiting the car, a part of you wanting to just drive home and forget this ever happened.

Initially, you hadn’t planned on accepting his offer of dinner, not usually one to mix your professional life with your social life, but upon realizing how long it had been since your last date you figured accepting the invite would be harmless.

Taking one last look in the reflection on your window you steeled your nerves and made your way to the entrance of the restaurant. One last deep breath rattled your lungs before you opened the door and let the delicious aroma of food attack your senses. Upon entering you were immediately greeted by who you assumed to be a host.

“Welcome to The Bear do you have a reservation?” You stared blankly at the man in front of you eyes occupied with tracing the few patches of ink that were visible on his skin, you could tell you were making him uncomfortable as he began fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket.

Your eyes found his once more an apologetic smile on your lips, “Yeah, sorry uh I think the reservations under Vanderbilt? I’m meeting someone.”

The man stood across from you nodding eyes falling to the reservation book on the podium, his finger tracing the name before looking up at you once more. “Right this way m’lady.” He did a mock bow motioning for you to follow behind him, his actions getting a quiet laugh out of you.

You followed him through the maze of tables eyeing the other patrons as you passed them before coming to a stop. A quiet thank you passed between you and the host as he gracefully pulled your chair out for you before letting you know they’d be back to take your order shortly. You watched as he walked off, not ready to be left alone on your first date in months.

“Was starting to think you might not show.” Beau’s words tore you from your thoughts as your eyes flashed to his, an apologetic smile lined your lips.

You tried not to fiddle with your hands, moving them from atop the table to settle in your lap, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

He waved your words off as though you could’ve been an hour late and he wouldn’t have minded, “Have you been here before? It's fairly new but I think it used to be a sandwich place, the head chef’s some bigshot from New York.”

Quiet hums escaped you at his explanation, you would’ve never come to this restaurant of your own volition, the aesthetics were beautiful, and having only been here for a few minutes you already found it comforting. But your salary wasn’t designed to be spent on an establishment such as this.

“No, this is my first time.” The casual conversation was helping to steel any leftover nerves you had

“Well, I hope I can make it worth it.” He was charming, to say the least, you’d give him that, his words drawing a small smile out of you, maybe this would go better than you expected.

The two of you engaged in small talk a few minutes more discussing which entrees the both of you were thinking about getting before you were finally interrupted.

“Well aren’t the two of you just a handsome couple please forgive my forwardness but you complement each other exceptionally well.” The words were spoken from behind you, you had to stop yourself from laughing at how thick they were laying it on, Beau preened across from you like he’d got the best promotion of your life. “Are we ready to order?”

Beau gave a polite nod as his hand gestured towards you, “Ladies first.”

You smiled eyes checking the menu one last time before turning to give your order, your brain short-circuited at the figure standing over your table. Neither of you spoke, and both of your smiles slowly disappeared as realization set in at the same time.

“Mr. Jerimovich?” You hadn’t seen him since he chaperoned the field trip, usually bumping into Eva’s mom or stepfather during pick-ups and drop-offs.

“Sorry sweetheart, that's an off-the-menu item.” His voice had an underlying tone of humor in it as his eyes subtly traced across your face before taking in what he could see of you above the table.

You stared up at him taking in the crisp suit he was wearing, surprised that he owned something that wasn’t made predominantly of spandex and cotton. Amusement danced through your eyes and your lips ticked up in a small smile the longer you stared at each other. “Do you have any recommendations for what's on the menu then?”

The man stared down at you, eyes bouncing between yours as he rolled his lips in trying to hide the smile threatening to take over his face. “Well we’ve got rave reviews about our steak which I do have to agree with, but that makes me a bit biased.” He paused for a second making sure he hadn’t lost your attention. “But if your taste buds are longing for the sea, our amberjack might be what you're looking for.

You nodded, resting your head against the knuckles of your fist as you continued smiling up at him. “Sounds delicious, I’ll have the Bucatini.”

A laugh shot through him, the small shake of his head almost imperceptible as he gave you one last look before turning to the man across the table. Your own eyes found your date across from you, a surge of guilt raced through you as you realized you’d written off his presence. You listened as Beau ordered, the two men trading words regarding items on the menu before you were once again left alone with your date.

“You two seemed friendly, did you know him?” He was trying to play off at being nonchalant but the curiosity in his voice gave him away.

“Hardly, he’s a parent of one of my students.” You were surprised Beau hadn’t remembered him from the ‘Donuts With Dad’ event, but there was no way you were gonna bring up what happened between his nephew and Eva while you were off the clock. “So, tell me about yourself.”

And so he did throughout the whole meal, you were barely able to get a sentence out before he was back to making the conversation about him. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was doing it but you didn’t care all that much to call him out on it.

You’d zoned out after Beau once again began talking about his job in finance, listening just enough to know when you needed to appear interested. Your mind went back and forth on whether getting dessert is a good idea or not.

“Can I interest the lovely couple in our dessert menu?” It was like he read your mind, two dessert menus held in his hands as he looked between you and Beau, his stare seeming to linger on you longer than necessary.

Before you could even open your mouth to speak Beau’s voice spoke for you. “I think we’ll just take the checks, boss. Do me a favor and split it as evenly as you can.”

There was a moment of silence surrounding your table, you wished you could say you were surprised but that was far from the truth. While Beau initially seemed like a decent guy, the topics of conversation he always seemed to land on told you this was a signature move of his one of those “tests” to see if his dates were interested in him or the moneybags that came with his family name.

“You’re fine with that right, I mean I think it's only fair.” Beau’s words were aimed at you now eyebrows raised as if daring you to say no.

You rolled your eyes, fingers tracing around the wine glass you’d been babysitting for most of the night before you looked up at the older man a tight smile on your lips “We’ll take the check please.”

You watched in relief as his car exited the parking lot, a huge weight lifted off your chest at having been done with that date. He’d left with the promise of calling you the next day but you already knew you wouldn’t be answering that call.

Footsteps sounded from behind you, your lack of self-preservation skills had you spinning around before you’d thought better of it, upon seeing his face you leaned back onto the hood of your car arms crossing around your chest as you waited for him to stop in front of you. His hand stretched out in the distance between you before any words were spoken, your eyes fell to the wrapper in his hands, the streetlights bouncing off of it.

“You’re not trying to poison me are you?” His grip loosened around the square package as it passed from his hand to yours.

He shrugged hand falling back into his pocket, “Don’t think so highly of yourself princess, that would mean I gave a shit about you.”

A small chuckle left you as your eyes fell on the package in your hand, it took you a minute to figure out what it was before you realized it was a donut, a smile tugging at your lips as you thought about the last time the two of you had been together and donuts were involved.

The two of you stood in a comfortable silence for the first time since your initial meeting, neither of you knew what to say to the other seeing as this was your first ever interaction that hadn’t turned hostile.

“Don’t they have rules and shit about dating your students' parents?” His words were punctuated by the motion of him slipping a cigarette between his lips, his other hand using his lighter to light it. You watched as he took a few drags, not at all surprised to find out he was a smoker.

He took a few more puffs of the cigarette before holding it out to you in offering, your nose scrunched in disgust as you shook your head no before responding to the question he asked. “Technically he’s not a parent and the school year ends this week. So come Friday afternoon my students will no longer be my students.”

You looked at him, not breaking your stare as you opened the sweet treat, breaking off a piece and savoring the myriad of flavors as they settled on your tongue. The two of you fell back into that silence, the quiet chatter of Chicago’s nightlife filled in the absence your voices left.

“What the fuck did you see in that kid anyway?” You shrugged, breaking off another piece of the donut and eating it. “I mean who the fuck spends a whole date talking about how rich they are and then splits the bill? Motherfucker didn’t even leave a tip and you did.”

Amusement decorated your face as you watched him pace his tirade about your lackluster date borderline passionate. “Yo and don’t get me started on how fuckin’ boring that kid was. Like what the fuck would he even know what to do with a brat like you.”

Your eyebrows raised watching as he stomped out the cigarette, his body full-on facing you once more. You held the last piece of the donut out to him, eyes falling to his hand as it grazed yours, the glaring lack of a wedding band around his finger intriguing you.

He popped the bit into his mouth, lips wrapping around his forefinger and thumb as you spoke up. “You talk as if you know me.” Your eyes left his lips to hold his stare once more, “Tell me Mr. Jerimovich, what would you do with a brat like me?”

This was dangerous territory and you knew it but that didn’t stop you from wanting to dip your toes in and see how you’d come out the other side. You watched in anticipation as he looked at you, eyes heavy with every word running through his head that he wasn’t saying. His feet moved him forward, your knee brushed against his thigh as he slotted himself between your legs, your head tilting up to look at him from your seated position on the hood.

The air between the two of you was charged, both of you waiting for the other to bite first. You held his gaze determined to not be the first one to give in, his eyes left yours for a moment pools of blue dipping to the curve of your lips. You stilled as his hand reached out, the rough pad of his thumb gently rubbing across your bottom lip before tapping against it, his eyes daring you to open up even a little bit. Wherever he was concerned you would never back down from a challenge, and you didn’t, lips wrapping around the warm appendage as you sucked gently the taste of icing dancing across your tongue.

“I’d take care of this mouth of yours, wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with someone else.” It was like the world had gone silent, all you could hear was his husky voice and the loud pop your mouth made as he removed his thumb.

You could see that his pupils had blown wide, almost positive that yours looked the same, “What if I only want trouble with you?”

There was a split second of stillness before his hand shot out, the roughness of his palm wrapped around your neck with no intention of harming you, just a weight trapping you between him and the car. Without a second thought your hand reached out to wrap around his tie, a small pull on it was all you needed for him to get the message.

It was hot and heavy, all tongues and teeth the moment his lips found purchase on yours. All the months of pent-up frustration between the two of you were being poured into this kiss, your tongues locked in a battle as if whoever won was proof that they were the superior opponent. You took your chance to bite his bottom lip, the motion pulled a low grunt from his chest, his free hand moving to cup the small of your back as he scooted you even further down the hood, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist practically sitting in his lap at this point.

Surprise shot through you as the pressure on your neck became much more than decorative, as his large palm squeezed, your mouth opened wider in a gasp as he took the chance to shove his tongue down your throat. The eroticism of it all had your legs tightening around him as you searched for any friction, coming up empty as you languidly sucked on his tongue.

His mouth ripped away from yours, lips peppered heated kisses along your jawline as you looked at the stars through your lust-addled gaze, “Your mouth tastes like shit.” You weren’t sure why you said it but it was like you needed to rile him up.

A hoarse laugh left him as his lips and tongue began to lavish kisses around your throat, hand moving to push the sleeve of your dress down as his lips found your shoulder. You were lost in the ecstasy of it all before a sharp pain shot through you.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” His question was followed by another bite in the same spot as your head rolled back enjoying the painful ache it brought.

“N-no,” your words were broken off in a wanton moan as his lips glided across the exposed skin of your chest before his teeth sank into the flesh on your other shoulder.

It’d been so long since anyone had touched you like this and your brain felt like it was going into overdrive. You weren’t sure if he knew exactly how to make your body sing or if you were just so touch starved the simplest of touches would get you going.

A gasp escaped you as you felt his calloused fingertips skating up the exposed flesh of your thigh, the position he had you in made your dress bunch up around your waist. His mouth was still decorating the skin of your neck and while you should’ve told him not to leave any marks you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore, not when his fingers found the elastic of your panties that sat against your hip, and not when his big hand began massaging said hip.

You let out a quiet whine as his hand teased the band of your panties, the hand having skated further under your dress as he snapped the elastic against your skin. Your hand reached out to grip his bicep trying to ground yourself as his teasing made your head spin.

“P-please touch me Mr. Jerimovich.” You knew exactly what you were doing calling him that but in that moment you didn’t care, you just wanted him to stop teasing you.

His head shot up from your throat hand paused at your waist as he stared you down, his eyes were more black than blue now. The feeling of his blunt nails digging into your hip had you wincing, before you could even string together a sentence your mouth fell open on a high-pitched moan as his hips rammed into you the hardened length of his bulge began grinding into you both of his hands on either of your hips as he helped you rock yourself against him.

You could see the enjoyment in his eyes at watching you fuck yourself against him, each drag of his cock hit your clit deliciously the mixture of friction from your panties and the seam of his pants had your eyes welling up with tears as you bit your lip at the stimulation.

“You gonna fuckin’ cry?” You shook your head at his condescending question doing a horrible job of trying to remain unaffected. “You’re a real fuckin’ brat you know that? Arguin’ with me every chance you get, coming to my place of work with that fuckin’ loser.”

The raspiness of his voice was going to be your kryptonite and you needed him to shut the fuck up. Your hand untangled from his tie to reach for the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss just to get some silence. This kiss was different, a bit slower, and somehow a bit more passionate than the last. His lips moved tenderly against yours, his hands that found a home on your hips doing the same the slowness of the kiss translating to the tempo as he bucked up into you.

Your brain was already too overstimulated to try and understand why your heart began to feel like it was beating out of your chest, to piece together why being held against his chest like this felt like something you could see yourself enjoying and getting used to. Your mouths moved in sync with the tameness of the kiss not matching the ferocity either of you usually bestowed upon each other. The slowness of his hips rocking into yours was the icing on the cake, two bodies yearning for each other, for more than this parking lot tryst.

The sound of a car door closing pulled you from the fantasy drifting through your head, your body arching as far away from him as it could even though your need to continue being touched told you otherwise. His hands quickly left your hips, his whole body caging you in as he looked around the parking lot to make sure no one could see you. The noise had come from across the street, the civilian entering their car none the wiser to the reckless behavior you were engaged in.

It hit you all at once as you looked up at him eyes wide and filled with tears that slowly began to shed. Your palms pressed into his chest shoving him away from you as you hurriedly scrambled to get off of the car, hands fumbling to pull your dress down jumping in place as the warmth of his hands began helping you.

“You good?”

“No!” You hadn’t meant to shout but your nerves pushed you over the edge, you shook your head as he raised his hands in defense. “I’m a teacher and I almost let you fuck me in public. What if someone saw? I could lose my job.”

The consequences of your actions were beginning to set in. You were too busy in your world of lust whatever logic you had seemed to slip away with every caress of his fingers, every press of his mouth. You weren’t a reckless person and maybe that’s what drew you into this situation: a desire to throw caution to the wind, the tears streamed down your face as you ran through every negative scenario racing through your head.

“Hey, c’mere,” you didn’t get a chance to argue before his hands were pulling you into his chest, one holding your head against him while you tried to calm down. “Shh, you’re gonna be okay. I promise no one saw, nothing's gonna happen.”

You scoffed, moving your head to look at him, not interested in any lies. “Mr. Jeri-,”

“Richie.” His hand on your neck began massaging soothing circles into your flesh, the light touch calmed you a bit, “Call me Richie.”

It felt too personal. From the way he held you in the dim parking lot trying to alleviate your worries, to the way he looked at you eyes full of an emotion you weren’t quite used to seeing as you stared at him.

“I…I should go.” You made no move to step out of his embrace, eyes locked on his as his hand gently squeezed the back of your neck.

You stepped out of his embrace, the chilly Chicago air sent a shiver down your spine at the loss of body heat. You watched in silence as he stripped out of his suit jacket, your eyes landing on the smear of your makeup against his once pristine white shirt, eyes falling a little lower to the wet patch you’d left on the front of his slacks, white-hot shame shooting through you. You didn’t say anything as he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, nodding your head in thanks too embarrassed to apologize for the stains you’d left on his clothes.

Neither of you spoke or made any indication of moving, his hands falling back into his pants pockets as you tugged the jacket tighter around yourself.

“Richie? Where you at man were ready for that little debrief thing you like doing.” The voice made you jump trying to fold in on yourself while Richie stepped in front of you hiding you from view in case the person walked around the derelict fence hiding the two of you from the back door to the restaurant.

“Just uh give me a minute Marcus!” Your eyes stayed glued to his back, wishing more than anything for this whole night to end and pretend it never happened.

He stood still until the sound of the door slamming shut reached his ears before his body swiveled back around to face you. “You good to drive home?”

You nodded, sending him a tired smile as the two of you began walking to the driver’s side door. Digging through your clutch you found your keys unlocking the car, stepping out of the way as he opened the door for you guiding you to get in. You stopped with one foot in the car turning to shimmy out of his jacket before his hands landed on your shoulder stopping your movements.

“Don’t worry about it.” You unconsciously settled into him, his fingers working out the tension you held onto. Your breath hitched as his hands skated from your shoulder to your neck before finding purchase on your cheeks, the rough skin of his thumbs gently swiping the tear stains away.

You felt vulnerable under his gaze, not sure if you were comfortable with him looking at you without that glimmer of anger and frustration in his eyes. He leaned forward unexpectedly, chapped lips burning a tender kiss into the skin of your forehead, lips lingering for longer than necessary before he pulled back.

“Do me a favor and get home safe.” The side of his lips ticked up in a smile.

Before you could lose your resolve you leaned in, kissing the edge of his lips where the ghost of a smile began before stepping the rest of the way into your car and watching as he stepped out of the way to close your door. He watched you drive off a small wave of his hand sent in your direction.

You drove home in a daze, mind still back in that parking lot. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as your car filled with the scent of nicotine mixed with pine trees the only culprit of the scent was the jacket neatly sat in your passenger seat. The choice of cologne was so odd it was surprising you hadn’t smelled it when you were trying to devour Richie in the parking lot, a smile raised to your lips before you started laughing at the chaotic night you had.

Your laughs died down as you promised yourself that it would never happen again, even though you could feel the growing urge to throw yourself into whatever that was headfirst. But logic was slowly coming back to you, giving you a myriad of reasons why it was a horrible idea and why it couldn’t happen again.

And now all you had to remember the moment was a jacket that smelled like nicotine mixed with some weird woodsy musk cologne and the yearning feeling left behind by his bruising kiss.

a/n: i hope you’re all doing well please enjoy! feel free to interact however you see fit! 🫶🏽

[bettyfrommars]

A little something inspired by this edit by @somnambulic-thing of what I imagine as a version of a mechanic!Eddie, but he's also biker!Eddie to me, or anything you want.

mechanic!Eddie x Reader

18+Only, secret work crush, gender neutral reader, just some yearning fluff with mention of weed and alcohol, bit of slut shaming, some sage advice from Wayne.

word count: 1.7k

Eddie had been staring at the door to the office and zoning out for a while when you opened it to step into the bay, and his unblinking gaze accidentally lingered at your midsection.

“What’s wrong?” You glanced down at your outfit, thinking maybe your zipper was open or something worse. There were three other mechanics besides Eddie there that day, each of them knee deep in the hustle and bustle of the busy season.  A boombox on one of the tall, red cubbies blasted hard rock while an electric drill buzzed.  

His attention snapped back to the bolt he was crouched down to tighten on the rim of a Ford Bronco.  

“Nothing,” he grunted, cranking the ratchet so that the muscles on his tattooed bicep bulged. He had on his signature summer uniform of black coveralls with the sleeves ripped off.  His hair was tied back in a pony with a navy-blue bandana on his head, making it easier to slip his welding helmet on and off.  “I didn’t know you were working today.”

Now, that was a big fat lie.  Spotting your car in the parking lot when he came in every morning was one of those things that set his day right.  You’d taken Thursday off the week before, and he’d moped around in a bad mood for the entire shift.  

Almost four months you’d been working in the office, and he still hadn’t summoned the nerve to ask you out.  Instead, he drank too much after a show at the Hideout one night and ended up letting some random chick crawl all over him.  The next day, the guys he worked with would make it sound more serious than it actually was.

“Soooo Munson, I heard you got lucky with Deep Throat Dana last night. They say she can suck an orange out of a tailpipe!” 

And then the entire shop broke out into wheezing laughter like a bunch of hyenas, as if something funny was said.

It made him cringe, and he cast a side glance to see if you were within earshot.  “Nothing happened with that girl,” he wanted to say to you.  “We kissed, but I just couldn’t…ya know?”

But also, why did he feel the need to explain himself to you? It was as if he was being faithful to a dream.  You’d never give him the time of day out in the real world.  Sure, you knew just how he liked his coffee, and you asked him questions about DnD and his band as if you were interested.  But, you were just being nice—he could tell.  At first he thought he was special, but quickly realized that you treated everyone the same.  You were, in fact, a thoughtful, likable person.  Surely your only interest in him was as co-workers, nothing more.  

Also, he could hear Wayne’s voice in his head: “Don’t shit where you eat, son.” 

It was his uncle's long-standing advice to never get involved with a coworker, and Eddie just happened to agree.  If he was ever lucky enough to take you on a few dates and then you dumped him or broke his heart, he wasn’t sure he could work at the garage anymore.  On the bright side, he also had a CDL to operate heavy equipment, so maybe that would be his cue to become a long-haul trucker.  

Deep breath Munson, you’re getting way ahead of yourself.

You hesitated in the doorway for a beat with Mrs. Chadwick’s paperwork for the Oldsmobile sedan in your hand, wanting to ask Eddie how his day was going.  But then he sank down onto the creeper and rolled under the vehicle as if to avoid you in a hurry.  

You really didn’t know what to make of him. 

One second, you’d be certain he was flirting, but then later that day, he’d huff out the door without even so much as a wave. He’d tease you about things, like your collection of random motel pens or the music you liked, and then you’d give the energy right back and wait for that gremlin smile to spread across his face. 

The other day, he’d left your favorite candy bar on the desk for you to find.  You knew it was him because he was the only one in Hawkins you’d told.  How the topic of sweets came up, you weren’t sure, but you’d never forget the curious narrowing of his eyes when he asked which one you liked best.

You had this strange feeling that he was secretly studying you.

The other night you were sitting across from your friend Tina, having burgers and beers at The Hideaway, when Eddie just happened to breeze in.

Your heart stuttered, whatever you’d been saying dying on your lips, completely losing your train of thought. The vinyl in the booth squeaked as you craned your neck to watch him. That was the first time you’d ever seen him in street clothes without coveralls on, and it was raining, so his long hair was soaked.  He greeted the woman at the cash register, and you were too far away to hear, but apparently he was there to pay and pick up his takeout order in a big brown sack with greasy handprints on it.  You thought about waving him down to ask if he wanted to join the two of you, but he did his business in a hurry and didn’t seem to want to be noticed.

“What’s going on?” Tina asked, gaze darting from you to the Dio patch on Eddie’s back as he exited the building.  She munched a french fry before wiping ketchup off her lip.  “Did something happen between you and Eddie?”

You snapped a look at her.  “You know him?”

“Well, not intimately,” she ate another fry.  “But I went to school with him, and bought weed from him a few times.”

“He sells weed?” You cocked an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised.

“It’s been like, a while, but maybe he still does.  How do you know him?”

“We work together,” you brought the half-eaten burger up for a bite and paused there.  “I think he hates me.”

“I highly doubt that.�� And then she stared pointedly at you when she said, “he’s cute,” with a knowing smirk. 

“Ha,” you adjusted the napkin on your lap. “Well, as you know, I plan to stay single for the rest of my life.”

“Sure, sure.”

When it got closer to 6 that day, you scrambled to get off the phone with a customer, worried Eddie might slip out again and you wouldn’t see him for the entire weekend. After hiding in the supply closet for a full minute to avoid Phil—one of the other mechanics who liked to talk your ear off—you finally made it to the break room, panting as if you’d just run a marathon.

Eddie was there, bent over to snatch a Pepsi out of the vending machine.  Freezing in place, you suddenly forgot how to form words.

Eddie felt like an idiot, like for sure you’d caught on to the fact that he’d been finding shit to do for the past half hour just so he could be there to have some private time with you.  He didn’t like the idea of you closing up the shop by yourself, especially now that it was getting darker sooner. 

And then fucking Phil wouldn’t leave. His wife had relatives visiting, and he was shuffling around like a sad puppy trying to avoid going home.  Eddie had to pretend he needed to take a shit just to get rid of him, and was halfway surprised the dude didn’t follow him into the bathroom.

He usually brought his own lunch, but the snack and soda machines were always tempting.  He knew how to open the damn things up and thought about doing some last minute grocery shopping to make up for his crappy wage.  

You cleared your throat.  “So, what are you up to this weekend?  Any fun plans?”

Eddie pulled his shoulders back and spun around at the sound of your voice, fisting the can in one hand and running the other through his hair.  He’d been growing his bangs out, and they were just long enough to tuck behind his ears.  The length was so fucking annoying at times that he’d often considered chopping them to nubs.    

You were smiling at him, eyes bright and sincere, and it made him feel all fuzzy inside like his brain was made of cotton candy.

“My day was good. You?” That was what came out of his mouth, and then he let out a silent, internal scream that made his ears ring. 

But he recovered quickly. “I mean, I don’t have any plans.  I don’t usually have…I mean, my buddy Jeff and I might go see a movie, but not like major plans.”  He didn’t want to tell you he was taking a trip out to Rick’s on Sunday to beef up his supply for weekly customers.  He sure as hell couldn’t restore the van on the chump change he made at the garage. 

You stared at him intently, softening when you realized he was nervous.  

How could that be?  Did you make him nervous?

You pulled a folded piece of paper out of your back pocket and held it up.  “I found this at the laundromat.  It says your band is playing at The Hideout on Tuesday.  Is that still happening?”

Pinched between your thumb and forefinger was one of the handmade fliers Gareth had helped him make.  

“Well we…yes-–” he cracked open the lid of the soda and it fizzed everywhere, dripping down his arm and onto the linoleum floor. “Shit, I’ll clean that up, don’t worry.”

He didn’t want you to get stuck having to get the mop out to clean again, so he put the leaking can down on the lunch table and went over to grab something to wipe it up.  

He busied himself with sopping up the mess, albeit poorly, while you inched closer.

“I think I might stop by and check you guys out,” you saw that his face was red when he stood, chocolate orbs lit up in anticipation.  “Maybe we could have a beer or something after?”

His cotton candy brain tried to filter his next thought, but it was too late.  “What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight?” You blinked a few times.  “Is your band playing somewhere tonight too?”

“No, but I—” the tip of his tongue slipped side to side between his lips.  “If you’re not busy tonight maybe we could go somewhere to eat or drink or hang out or something.”

“Or something,” a grin quivered in the corner of your mouth. 

And then the two of you were just standing there, close enough for your breathing to fall into sync. Gathering up a nice helping of nerve, you reached an arm out and ran the back of your knuckles down the front of his shirt.

Eddie was vibrating.

Don’t shit where you eat, son.

No disrespect Uncle, but fuck the job.

“Anything," he said softly, hope blossoming in his chest like those wildly palpitating hearts in cartoons.  “Anything you want.”

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

So Blue | Han Jisung

•Synopsis: Who can you turn to in a dire situation if not your best friend? That's what Jisung thought when he texted you. Heart racing with fear that your best friend was hurt, you rush to his side. What you find however will change everything...

•Pairings: non idol Jisung x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, friends to lovers, strong language, mention of sexual enhancement drug, light anxiety, creampie, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, cum eating

an: photos of Han used in title graphic have been edited for entertainment purposes by me and are not real. no harm is intended in the edited pictures. also please do not take any enhancement meds without talking to a doctor for your own safety. i don't condone the behavior that's written.

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

The house is quiet, way too quiet when you step inside. Knowing Chan, Changbin, and Jisung for years, you know it's never this quiet when they're around and it's unsettling... Shutting the door behind you and glancing around, you see nothing out of the ordinary. So far everything looks exactly the way you left it last night after the four of you hung out. Just as you're about to walk into the kitchen, you hear Jisung start calling your name from his bedroom. Your heart races with panic and you rush towards his room, dropping your bag on the floor along the way. All kinds of awful scenarios play in your mind and when you burst into his room you half expect to find him bloody or with a broken bone, not sitting on the edge of his bed in a white sleeveless shirt and black shorts, with his legs spread sporting a massive hard-on.

"Wait, why me?" you blurt out, when Jisung explains that he needs your help. Your cheeks heat up as you steal a quick glance at the unmistakable bulge in his shorts. There's a mix of embarrassment and unexpected arousal that floods through you, leaving you flustered.

You're shocked, jaw practically hitting the floor. Who knew he was so… big? After all these years of friendship, you never thought of him in any other way except as your weird and talented friend. But now, seeing him in this state… It's making you feel things you'd rather deny and your stomach is flipping like crazy. Every now and then you notice that his cock twitches underneath his shorts as if it's alive, pulsating and drawing your eyes down to it again despite how hard you try not to stare. Kind of hard when something that size is practically waving “Hello” at you.

"I- I can't tell the guys this. They'd clown me for life," Jisung stammers, fidgeting as he looks at you from across his messy room. Plastic water bottles scattered, tissues crumpled on the floor—yeah, it's pretty clear what he's been up to before you got here.

"Well, what do you expect me to do, Han Jisung?" you retort, emphasizing his full name for dramatic effect.

"I don't know," he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. "It's been hours. I can't even leave my room. It hurts, y/n."

When he grabs at the stiffness beneath his cotton shorts and lets out a low groan, you stop breathing. Why does this have to turn me on? He's my best friend! You mentally scold yourself, tearing your gaze away. Shit, it's hot in here. Your body feels too hot all over. It's like standing too close to a blazing fire, the heat making you squirm uncomfortably.

"Ji... we need to get you to the hospital," you say, avoiding his gaze. "You've seen those commercials."

"Please, no! I can't let anyone see me. Did you forget, your bestie Annie, who also happens to be Chan's girl, works there. If she sees me, it's game over. She'll tell him." Jisung pleads, hands clasped together, desperation evident in his wide brown eyes. Those puppy dog eyes of his always get to you.

"Dude, what were you even thinking, taking Love?" you groan, plopping down on the cozy carpet with a heavy thud, completely confused by your friend's decision to take an enhancement pill.

You remember seeing those late-night infomercials a couple of years back, pushing that blue heart-shaped pill. They call it 'Love' because of the 'L0-V3' stamped on it. Basically it's like Viagra, but it's mixed with a very low dose of THC. They advertise that it does more than just keep things up. 'Guaranteed to give you the ultimate pleasure,' they say.

Jisung shrugs, watching you with a miserable expression. “I was curious if it would make masturbating feel different, better maybe? I mean it did the first 6 times. Wah! The orgasms were fucking mind blowing y/n.” He smiles and chuckles.

"Ji, oh my god! Ugh, have mercy on my ears bro." Both of you burst into laughter, but then you notice Ji wincing in pain. Your mood quickly shifts from playful to genuine concern.

"It hurts that much?" you ask, feeling awful that he's so uncomfortable.

He nods weakly, “It's not even just my dick but my balls feel so fuckin’ heavy. Like they're literally going to rip from my body.”

You cringe inwardly, fingers pressing into your ears as he launches into yet another one of his oversharing moments. His lack of filter has always been a trademark of his, but that's just Jisung being Jisung. After being friends since grade five, it's like he's incapable of holding back anything with you. You remember the day he lost his virginity, he texted you literally right after. His excitement was evident even through the phone. As a joke you got him a cake in the shape of the letter ‘V’. That was in highschool and his habit of sharing way too much is still going strong in your twenties. Only difference is this time his oversharing is doing things to you.

The dampness between your thighs, well, that's just gotta be a coincidence, right? I mean, it's not like the sight of your long time buddy sporting a hard-on is doing anything for you. It's more than likely just the frustration of being on a three-year dry spell. Yeah, that's gotta be it. It's definitely because you haven't been fucked in a long time and not Jisung himself. You give your head a shake, dropping your hands from your ears with a wry smirk.

"Ji, we've really gotta do something… before it gets worse. You don't want it to fall off." You tell him jokingly, trying to keep the mood light but you're feeling worried all over again.

"Yeah, yeah I know. You're right, but what are we supposed to do? I've tried everything, even beatin' it 11 times, and still no luck.” He says, sounding so casual about his masturbatory activities.

You let out an embarrassed groan and fall back dramatically onto the floor, while Jisung lets out a pitiful whine. You grab your phone and start searching for home remedies but after an hour of scrolling, you're still at square one. Not a single remedy seems feasible. Leeches? Nah, no way. As if either of you would go near those slimy things. And some tea from a self-proclaimed witch sounds sketchy as hell. Plus, she's halfway across the globe. It would take forever to get here, if it even would. Jisung hasn't had any luck either. Every twenty minutes You hear him curse under his breath and run his hands through his hair. You two are running out of options, and as time passes, you start to feel more and more useless.

"Y/n," Jisung whispers your name after another forty minutes of searching, his voice hesitant.

You look up at him, doe eyed and innocently chewing your lip. “Hm? What's up, Hannie? Did you find something?” With a strained grunt he nods in response looking at you intensely.

“Fuck, shit.” He mutters under his breath, almost like he's talking to himself. “My dick... It won't go down without…”

“Ji what is it? You're freaking me out. Without what?” You scramble up onto your knees and crawl over to the bed, inching closer to him, eyes full of concern.

Jisung looks like he's in absolute agony watching you crawl over to him. His emotions are all over the place, you can practically feel the tension radiating off of him when you reach the bed. His eyes are like flames, burning far too hot when he looks at you. You can see the struggle written all over his face like he's fighting with himself.

“Y/n, you're making it harder,” Jisung breathes out, his voice husky and balling his hands into fists as he tries to keep his composure.

You sit beside him scrunching up your face and like the good friend that you are, you place a comforting hand on his knee. Jisung's breath catches in his throat and a flush creeps up his neck when you touch him making him suddenly feel lightheaded.

"What do you mean 'making it harder'? I'm here trying to help you, remember?” You say, your voice soft and tinged with hurt. The pain in your voice and eyes catches him off guard. He's stammering, suddenly aware of how his words might've come out wrong.

He didn't mean for it to sound bad. You're the last person he'd ever want to hurt. But today, everything you do just seems to set him off. He's been trying so damn hard to push his feelings aside. But it's like having you in his room, despite you being here a million times before, it's messing with his head. He can't think straight. You've always been stunning to him, and yeah, maybe he's entertained some inappropriate thoughts about you in the past, but that was only once. Maybe it's the pill messing with his head but you’re making it impossible for him to focus on anything but you.

“N- no I mean, I’m grateful you're here, really love. You're the only one who can help me. I just mean… you're making it harder. Ya know?” He stammers, licking his lips nervously. He nods down once looking down at his lap before back at you and bites his lip feeling embarrassed. Your eyes flick down to his shorts and go wide when you understand.

"What? How?!" You glance down at your outfit. His black hoodie with the paint splatters that you borrowed a few days ago, paired with simple black leggings. Nothing revealing, yet you're somehow making his cock even harder than it already was.

"You're over there moaning and then you start crawling towards me on all fours. I mean, come on, how could anyone not get turned on by that? Shit!" He chuckles nervously, feeling his heart racing. He hides his face in his hands, laughing, and murmurs something when you giggle.

"You're such a perv, Ji." You tease, still chuckling as you playfully pry his hands away from his face. "Now try that again. I'm not fluent in mumbles, sorry.”

“I said… I just read that it won't go down without intercourse. Bro, I don't exactly have a girlfriend. I'm so fucked.” He sighs, sounding completely defeated.

Your smile falters when you see just how miserable he looks. It's been a while since he was last in a relationship, that was true. Probably a little longer than you, about four years now. His last one ended when she demanded he choose between you and her. She couldn't stand the fact that you would spend the night in the spare bedroom where Jisung, Chan, and Changbin recorded their music, dreaming of making it big someday. Jisung ended things with her on the spot; he wouldn't be with someone who couldn't accept his friends. Apparently she had issues with Minho too, which was probably what really did it for him. But somehow, you can't shake off the feeling that their breakup was somehow your fault, that his single status is on your shoulders.

“I'm sorry Hannie. We'll um, we can figure something out.” You reassure him, innocently rubbing his knee.

Without thinking much, your fingers gently glide over his skin comfortingly, feeling the tenseness in his muscles. He's so stressed. It breaks your heart seeing him like this. You don't know what to do right now other than offer him comfort. There are no answers or solutions that you can think of to give him. All you can do is show him that you're in it together as always. You start rambling on about how you two are both probably freaking out for no reason and that everything will be fine soon. But as your fingers continue to move in innocent slow circles, Jisung starts shifting. It goes unnoticeable by you so you keep talking. It's all nonsense really, delving into something completely random and off topic in an attempt to distract him from the issue at hand, only Jisung isn't processing a single word you've said. He's far too focused on your hand.

The moment your hand landed on his knee he prayed you wouldn't move it, he prayed you would. He tried so hard to focus on anything other than the heat and softness of your hand on his bare skin. It's too much though and his mind starts to quickly wander. He freezes and tries to focus on your voice but it's impossible. Jisung can't stop the thoughts that his mind creates or the images that begin to come into focus. He's imagining your hand sliding up his thigh until it's slipping under his shorts. He can almost feel it happening, his sudden daydream becoming so vivid. In his mind's eye he can see you take him into your hands, feel you stroking him until he's a mess and spilling all over your fingers. He's fighting his demons and you're oblivious to it all. You just continue to talk all while the sensation of your hand is driving him up the wall. He can feel the sudden familiar tightening in his balls and he panics. He can't get control of his body, not with the drug still in his system.

His hand quickly comes down covering yours, stopping the gentle caress to his knee. His intense brown eyes look darker when they stare into yours. His lips slightly part and his breath starts coming out in uneven quiet bursts. The warmth of his hand seems to grow hotter, becoming slightly sweaty against yours and your heart starts pounding in your chest. You feel the subtle shift in his body beneath your touch and his legs tense up as he lets out a soft, involuntary grunt. Jisung's gaze burns into yours with an undeniable intensity that makes air feel thick and your cunt slick.

Is he about to?

You glance down at his shorts and his cock pulsates underneath. You stop breathing when realization hits you. He’s going to cum, right here, right now, all while holding your hand and looking at you. He's leaking so much precum it's noticeable even in the black fabric. A wicked scene flashes through your mind, of you sinking to your knees to taste him, taking his fully clothed cock into your mouth.

"Ah, shit! Mm!" Jisung's moans slip out and his breathing escalates as he starts to tremble all over. "Y/n," he pants out. Your name rolling off his tongue, making your whole body flush as his orgasm quickly builds, like you're the cause of it. "I... oh, shit. I'm... sorry, fuck. I can't... Help it. I'm cumming. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!”

His grip on your hand tightens and he takes a deep breath before letting out a long low moan. You're left speechless, eyes fixed on Jisung's face as he cums in his pants. His hips move instinctively upwards, as if he's fucking some unseen entity and you can't help but find it incredibly hot. It's possibly the sexiest thing you've ever witnessed and now you're more turned on than you were to before.

His orgasm hits him hard, and you can feel his muscles tighten when he lets go. Warmth spreads through your body and it's impossible not to miss the way his release seeps through his dark shorts. The fabric quickly becomes wetter as his seed flows out in thick, white strings. His cock, still concealed and hard beneath the dampness, slows its wild twitching and stills.

“God, I'm sorry y/n. I don't know what came over me. Your hand... It felt incredible and it just happened. It was like the pill ramped up the feeling.” He apologizes, letting go of your hand. His heavy breathing slows and cheeks flush with a mixture of arousal and shame.

“It's ok Ji, I understand. You don't have to apologize. I wasn't thinking. I'll uh, get you a change of shorts.” You start to get up and head towards his dresser but he catches your wrist. He looks up at you with those brown sugar boba eyes of his making you shift.

“Tell me what you're thinking, y/n. Please? I'm going crazy thinking I'm weirding you out. Be honest with me please, lovely. Please?” He pleads with you.

You sigh and sit back down beside him and almost moan when the seam of your leggings rub against you. Seeing Jisung cum right in front of you, has your body feeling ultra sensitive. You're so on edge as if you've taken an enhancement pill yourself.

"I'm not weirded out, trust me," You confess, your voice low and filled with something more that you try to hide from him and yourself.

"Then how do you feel? You've gone quiet on me." Jisung probes, daring you to reveal your feelings.

“I feel fine Ji.” You say and look at his closet door. It's wide open and his clothes are all over the place inside like a tornado went through it.

“Bullshit y/n. I can tell when you're lying. You never look at me when you lie.”

Sighing you look him in the eyes and your mouth suddenly goes dry. He's not going to let this go until you fess up to him. He'll drill you with questions until you crack and that will probably make things more awkward than it already is. You don't really have a choice but to be transparent with him like you normally are.

“I'm,” You start, only for your words to trail off into a mumble.

“What was it you said earlier y/n? I'm not fluent in mumble?" He smirks, feeling so damn proud of himself and you roll your eyes.

“Ugh, fine. Fine, okay. I'm… horny. There, satisfied?” You admit red in the face. You look away fiddling with the sleeve of Jisung's hoodie.

"What else?" His voice, steady and resolute.

Your head spins back to him, caught off guard. "What else?" you echo loudly in shock. "Isn't all that enough?" He shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips, as if he knows something you don't.

"Nah, not when I can feel you holding back," Jisung teases, leaning closer. "We're always so open with each other, but right now, there's something you're not saying."

“I…” You let out a defeated and frustrated sigh. “You turned me on.” You whisper. “The sight of you cumming. The look on your face, that fucking moan, Jisung. The way your cock bobbed from inside your shorts when you… damn it. It fucking made me wet. I've been wet since I walked in here!” You're practically yelling now, breathing heavily after releasing all your pent up feelings and he just smiles and chuckles.

“That wasn't so hard was it?

“Yes,” You say with a huff. “Yes, that actually was pretty damn hard.” You go to cover your face but he stops you.

“Don't be embarrassed, sweetie. I think that's a normal reaction. Sorta like watching porn.” He replies, chuckling.

“I suppose… but it doesn't really help your situation though.” You say feeling mortified.

The room goes quiet for a minute, the pair of you at a loss for words until Jisung breaks the silence.

“Maybe it can?”

You give him a look, raising an eyebrow in his direction. His cheeks flush and he raises his hands in a surrender gesture, palms facing outward, “Hear me out. It doesn't have to be weird. We'd just be helping each other out. You wouldn't be horny anymore and I wouldn't be hard and in pain. You're my only hope.”

“Are you suggesting that you and I… fuck?” You ask gesturing between you both. He groans in half pain, half pleasure at your words and your face heats again matching the blush on his cheeks.

“Please? Please let me fuck you y/n. Shit I know we're friends, it won't mean anything. You'd be literally saving my life. It's torture being like this. Every twitch, every movement I make… it fucking hurts like hell.” He begs, sounding desperate.

Jisung's question hangs in the air and you find yourself unable to respond. Silence ticks on for only a few seconds but to Jisung it feels like an hour. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration and huffs.

"Fine, then," he grumbles, breaking the silence again. "Can you at least help me get into your car so we can go to the hospital then?" His voice is rough, but there's an underlying vulnerability to it.

Still you stay quiet, his pleas echoing loudly in your mind. He's begging for your help and you can't speak. You're torn between wanting to be there for him and the fear of the aftermath. It's never a good idea to sleep with a friend. God, how many times have there been movies portraying that, only for it to go wrong? Too many, that's the answer. You're already feeling things that you wish you weren't. This could ruin your friendship with Jisung. This isn't just a peck on the lips. You'll be far closer and far more intimate than you two have ever been. So your hesitation is valid but Jisung is losing his mind and panicking more than you are right now.

“What the fuck y/n? Are you really ignoring me right now? Look, I'm sorry I asked. Just forget it and hel-”

"Promise me," You cut him off, "Promise me that we'll pretend like it never happened."

"Absolutely, yes. I promise!" he agrees eagerly, his face lighting up as he reaches for the drawer in his bedside dresser.

Curious, you watch as he rummages through the drawer's content. "What are you up to now?" you ask, sounding amused despite the fact that the little voice in your head is screaming at you.

"Looking for a condom," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he looks over at you.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Dude, even if you find one, it's probably expired or dried up. When was the last time you got some ass?"

"Oh yeah right, good point—wait! It hasn't been that long!" He whines.

Laughing, you playfully cover your mouth. "Uh huh, sure. Besides, you gave your last one to Chan a while ago, remember?"

“Shit, you're right. Now what?” He pouts looking disappointed.

“Just raw I guess. Don't really have a choice. We both know we're clean and I'm on the pill.” You shrug nonchalantly like the idea is whatever to you but your heart is beating a thousand beats per second and you're internally freaking out.

Jisung swallows hard, looking nervous in your direction. “You uh, you sure?”

“Yeah let's just do it before Bin and Chan get back. Shit would be really awkward if they caught us.” Your voice betrays your false confidence, shaking as nerves wrack your body.

“Yeah, good point” He replies with a nod, suddenly looking serious.

This is serious to him. This isn't exactly how he envisioned his weekend starting. Jisung's heart pounds hard, his palms sweating as he stares at you. Amidst the anxiety he's feeling about this, he's oddly happy. He feels lucky knowing you’re here willing to cross boundaries for him. Not everyone would do something like this for a friend, but you're different. You always have his back no matter what crazy mess Jisung finds himself in.

Despite the fucked-upness of it all, Jisung can't deny the excited flutter in his stomach. The thought of having sex with a friend is enough to give anyone major anxiety but he's surprised how well you both are dealing with it. Still, fear sits at the back of his mind. What if this changes everything? What if it ruins your friendship? This is a big deal. He's seen it play out in movies and dramas all the time and not once had it turned out well. He doesn't have a lot of options though. You're quite literally his only hope like he told you.

Jisung gets up carefully, giving you full access to his bed and watches you as you strip down to nothing. Embarrassment fills you as his mouth hangs open, in complete fascination and awe. He thinks you're unstoppable, the way you're confidently undressing like that. He doesn't know you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. His eyes find your breast and he mentally marvels over how hard your nipples are. He suddenly wants nothing more than to slip the peaks into his mouth and bite down on them until they're red and you're squirming under him. Your cunt calls to him like a siren, just as pretty and just as wet. His fingers itch to trace the contours of your body, to feel your skin beneath his touch. Every inch of you seems to call out to him.

Jisung shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he glances towards the door. "Um, so about the lights... Do you have a preference?”

"You decide, Ji.” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, leaning back into his sheets on your forearms.

With a nod, he walks over to the door and locks it before reaching to switch off the light, enveloping the room in darkness. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. The sun had long since disappeared, hours slipping away unnoticed in trying to find a way to help your friend. A second later, the white walls covered in music memorabilia and anime posters, glow crimson from the light of the LED Akatsuki cloud lamp you gifted him for Christmas.

“There we go.” He says lightly, his voice barely audible over the sound of your heart.

Jisung's trying his best to put you at ease, and you're grateful for it, even if it's not working. You're lying there, heart pounding like a drum, with the soft red glow of his bedroom casting shadows all around. Your breath hitches, nerves tingling as you steal a glance at him by the bedside. Your fingers toy with the sheets' edge and butterflies dance wildly in your stomach. This is risky, but you're only doing it to help him out, right? Nothing more. Yet, there's something brewing beneath the surface, something you're both feeling but haven't quite put into words or even thoughts. Not right now at least.

Jisung casually strips off his tank and tosses it onto his computer chair, standing over you. Even though you've seen him shirtless a million times, it feels different this time. Probably because the setting is more intimate. You can't help but admire the way his muscles are defined, how they seem to mold perfectly to his body. Every contour, every line, down to his slender waist, captivates you. Then, as he lowers his shorts, you find yourself holding your breath, unable to look away. He's got to be a good seven inches you think. Slightly curving upwards, angry and red with the veins ridiculously prominent. You don't even stop yourself from fantasizing about how he'd feel on your tongue. The temptation to reach out and touch him is almost overwhelming, but you hold back, afraid of what it might mean.

“Do you think you can take all of me y/n?” He asks curiously and you look up at him.

His features soften in the dim light. He looks so vulnerable, so unlike the confident guy you're used to seeing. It tugs at your heart, stirring up a mix of emotions you can't quite begin to untangle.

His question, It's not a cocky one. In fact he sounds a little bit self conscious, worried even. Like he's afraid of hurting you or causing you discomfort. As much as you try to not think of him as your best friend right now as a means of psyching yourself out, you can't. He's your sweet Hannie, he's the talented genius J.One, a rap name he created when he was 16. He's your Sungie, who sat with you when you were the new kid in middle school. He needs you… needs your help. What kind of friend would turn away from a friend in need?

"I can handle it, don't worry about me, Ji. Let's just get you back to normal, okay?" You reach out your hand towards him with a subtle tremble exposing your nervousness.

"Yeah, okay, lovely. Just... let me know if you want to stop, okay? Promise?” Jisung exhales, his breath jittery with nerves waiting for your response.

“I promise. Now just relax and fuck me.” You whisper.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

He moves closer to you, placing his hand in yours, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you. The worries and hesitations you had vanish, replaced by a strong need to take care of this for him, to ease his pain. You feel the heat emanating from his body as he positions himself between your legs, gazing down at you with wide eyes.

He chews on his bottom lip and wraps his hand around the base of his cock with a hiss. He's still sensitive from the pain and his recent orgasm but he lines himself up with the entrance to your core, noticing how your arousal glistens in the red lights.

“Do you normally get this wet y/n?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious tilting his head to one side.

You hide your face with your hands, inhaling deeply. It's like you're a virgin all over again and this is your first time. You're nervous out of your mind and he's asking you a question like that. He's just curious, sure, but... he's Jisung... Your pulse pounds in your ears, and you slowly lower your hands. His eyes meet yours, and you can see everything you're feeling reflected in them.

You swallow hard, “Honestly, no. I've never been this wet, Jisung. Not even for myself.” You tell him, keeping eye contact so he knows you aren't lying.

“Fuck, that's hot.” He whispers. His cock twitches and rubs along your folds. “Ah, shit.” He winces and moans at the contact, feeling his cock stiffen even more beyond his belief.

Your body jerks at the unexpected touch, causing you to inhale sharply. His fingers lightly graze the curve of your waist, as if he's afraid you might vanish at any moment. His eyes, intense and penetrating, hold yours captive and heat pools low in your belly. Jisung's touch sends a shiver all over your body when his fingertips slowly begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin. Suddenly it's hard to deny just how bad you want him.

“Han Jisung if you don't stop stalling and just fuck me, I'm getting dressed and calling Chan.” Your breath comes out in short, shallow gasps. That brush against you was too much and not enough. You want him. God, you want him so bad it's almost painful.

“Okay, okay sorry. I'm just nervous. Fuck, I feel like a virgin all over again.” He says voicing your earlier thoughts out loud, making you both laugh loudly.

It feels almost normal. Like you're not about to let sleep with your long time friend. Like he's just above you now because you were wrestling for the remote. But after the laughter subsides, Jisung gathers up his courage and pushes the tip of his cock inside you without any restrictions. You're so wet that he slides right in. You both let out a moan, the sound echoing off the walls of his room, enveloping you in an intimate bubble. In the dim light, the boundary between friendship and something more blurs, and you find yourself swept away by the growing need. Jisung can feel his heart beating harder in his chest as he loses himself to the sweet feeling of you around the tip of him. A growing need intensifies within him with every passing second. He's got just the head in and he wants to slam into and cum right now.

"More. Keep going," you whisper, your voice quiet and dripping with lust. He bites down hard and complies slightly hesitating. Slowly he pushes further inside of you.

Your fingers tremble as they brush against his arms as he steadily inch by inch presses forward getting deeper, drawing moans out of you that could be heard from Pluto. It takes all of Jisung's focus to slide his entire length into you. He didn't want to cum just from sticking the tip in. But with each thrust into your eager pussy, brings him closer to bursting inside you.

"Fuck.” He breathes out as he fully sinks into you, his hand laying over your stomach gently. With a soft sigh, he leans in, resting his other hand beside your head. You feel incredible and he's reminded of the only moment he fantasized about you. A distant memory flooding back, something he tried to push away ages ago.

You tagged along with him, Chan, and Binnie for a vacation to the beach one scorching summer. He couldn't help but notice the way you looked in that red bikini with the guitar pick pattern. The way it barely covered your tits and ass. The sight made him feel insane. He was thinking things about you that he hadn't ever before. He used the fact that he couldn't swim just to sit in the sand, secretly enjoying the sight of you splashing around in the water. Every splash, every droplet clinging to your skin, it was like a fantasy playing out before his eyes. He imagined plowing into you from behind in the shower, your breast pressed against the shower tiles as you took all of him. Every detail was vivid and intense in his mind. That night, while you peacefully slept beside him in the hotel room you shared, he couldn't shake the images from his mind. Unable to sleep due to the ache in his cock, he pumped himself into his fist while thoughts of you consumed his mind. Guilt filled him but he pushed it aside, chalking it up to normal hormonal desires. It had been years since he even had those thoughts, until now.

Now he's buried deep inside you, all because of a dumb decision to try those enhancement pills. All because he wanted a mind-blowing, toe curling, orgasm. But deep down, he's kinda grateful for messing up. With you beneath him, he can fuck you instead of his hand. It's been too long since he's fucked anyone. He wants to savor this moment, take his time feeling your walls flutter around him since this won't happen again. As the urge to cum fades, he eases out of you, leaving just the head of his cock inside and begins moving again, slowly, teasingly, watching your reaction with his mouth slightly agape. Slowly, he rocks in and out, feeling your tightness gripping him in a way he's never experienced before. It’s better than anything he's felt with his exes. He's in awe of how amazing you make him feel. With a forceful thrust, he drives himself deeper into you, pausing when you cry out in pleasure.

"Damn it, y/n, you feel amazing. Fuck, so good.” he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Can I... Can I go faster? Please, tell me I can fuck you faster, baby. Let me make you feel even better." He begs, grunting softly and shifting his hips in a slow, teasing rhythm, forcing a needy whimper from you.

You bite your lip, a rush of pleasure flooding your body as you nod in response, too overwhelmed to speak. Your breath hitches, coming in rapid gasps, and your legs tremble around him.

“Thank you, fuck.” He withdraws with a sharp pull, then eases back in hard, making you cry out. “Stop me if I'm too rough, baby. You gotta tell me sweetie. Can you do that?”

You nod, but that's not quite what he wants. Jisung wants to hear you, no, needs to hear you. His hand moves, brushing against your skin until he finds your nipple, teasingly taking it between his fingers. Your breath catches as he pinches it gently and rolls it slowly between his thumb and index finger. He feels your body react, your walls tightening around him when you whimper softly.

"Oh!" You gasp, unable to control that blissful feeling of pleasure that runs through you. He does it again, a little harder this time. The corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky grin when you arch your back.

“Yes Ji! Fuck, I'll tell you.” Your eyes close and you grip the blankets on the bed in tight hands.

“Thank you y/n. God you're the fucking, mm! You're the best. Knew only you could help me. I knew you'd take care of me.” Jisung whispers, gripping the sheets by your head tight, his fingers curling around the fabric and sliding himself back into you. The bed creaks beneath you, echoing his movements as he fucks you harder. “Knew you'd make me feel good,” He murmurs, his voice thick with sex. "Tell me, y/n, does that feel good? Does my y/n feel good because of me? Tell me baby.”

Does he always talk like this with everyone he's been with before? You wonder and you realize he's way more experienced than you imagined. The thought makes you jealous but the feeling doesn't last. Each push of his cock inside of you pushes that green eyed demon out of your mind.

His voice, smooth like honey, drips with sweetness, coating you with each word he utters. The way he speaks to you only makes you wetter and you're craving him more. He's not holding back anymore, lost in the moment where all that matters is pleasure. Yours, his… you both need more. He's not waiting for a response; he knows you're speechless, your words stuck in your throat, your silence speaking volumes. With one hand supporting himself, he cups your breast, teasing and massaging the flesh, making you squirm under him before taking your nipple into his mouth. A low, guttural moan escapes him, reverberating through you body. You moan passionately, feeling the heat of his tongue against your skin. When he gently bites the hard peaks of your nipple your body arches into him and your left hand cradles his head.

Jisung inhales deeply, and your scent envelops him, drawing him in with its intoxicating allure. "Damn, you smell so good," Jisung murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips and his heart literally skips a beat in his chest.

He swore nothing would change, but his heart rebels against that weak promise. Every day, he'll crave you more. Every glance, every touch will only intensify the want for you. The need to have you will only grow stronger. Your hands are all over him now, leaving invisible imprints that seem to penetrate straight to his heart. He finds himself addicted to your nails grazing his skin, the way your fingers weave through his hair, pulling him in closer to you with each tug.

Feeling his body pressing against yours, every movement sends waves of pleasure through you. Your hips respond to him, moving in sync and the sensation of his cock against your sweet spot makes you gasp softly. With each grind, the warmth grows blazing inside you. Jisung pauses, his lips leaving your nipple, and gazes down at you, his tousled hair framing his face in a way that makes him look irresistible in this moment. There's a silent shift between you that makes it harder to breathe.

"Close, aren't you, y/n?" he pants, a teasing grin playing on his lips. Something inside you explodes and a surge of electricity courses through you. It's not just the impending climax that has your insides uncoiling; but from that look he gives you. It's overwhelming in the best way possible. You feel like you're free falling through the clouds.

"Almost, Ji. So close," You breathe out softly.

"Yeah, baby, me too," He murmurs, his words laced with urgency. “I need you to come first. I'm gonna pull out." You shake your head and cling to him tighter, not wanting him to stop.

"Cum inside me, Sungie. Just keep going. Harder, Ji. Right there. Fuck!" Your voice grows louder with each word.

"Are you sure, y/n?" he asks, and when you nod, he grins at you. "Gonna give you all of me, baby. Fill you up real good. Gonna make a mess." He trails off with a soft curse. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he adds, his voice becoming more raw, his desire evident in every breath. "You feel so good, y/n. So fucking good."

Jisung's hips buck wildly, thrusting faster and you scream his name, pleading with him to not stop, to not hold back, to fill you up. He's trembling, his breath coming out in ragged grunts as he pounds his cock into you, driving deeper with every thrust. Your body tenses up, and you manage to gasp out that you're about to cum just before it hits you like a tidal wave. And when it hits, fuck, it's like fireworks go off behind your eyelids. The most explosive sensation you've ever experienced.

“Gah, y/n! keep cumming, just like that. Y/n, you're gonna make me cum. So tight. Yeah, keep squeezing me with your pussy. I'm gonna cum. Oh, fuck, oh fuck, I'm cumming baby." He moans, his voice strained with pleasure.

You feel it deep when Jisung cums. It jets out in spurts forcefully, filling you and the sensation rips another unexpected orgasm from you. His thrusts slows to a gentle pace, guiding you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until your muscles relax around him. With a shudder, he finally stills, collapsing onto you panting, his weight supported by his forearms. Cupping your face in his hand, he looks down at you with a mix of satisfaction and longing in his eyes that makes you feel indescribable.

Your soft moans and the way you're clinging on to him, gives him a different sort of pleasure. Just knowing he's the one making you feel good, is a heady feeling, one that makes him want to hold onto this moment longer. But it's done and over now and he feels disappointed that such an amazing feeling, like being nestled inside of you, won't happen again.

Jisung's heart is pounding in his chest as he moves his face closer to you. His impulses taking over, "Can I kiss you?" he breathes out, voice shaky looking down at you.

You give a hesitant nod, feeling suddenly shy despite what just happened between you two, and he leans in to press his lips against yours. It's gentle, soft, sweeter than you expected. He doesn't use his tongue, unsure if you'd even want him to but he couldn't resist the urge to kiss you. The way you looked up at him, so pretty with those heavy lids and his cum dripping out of you… he just had to taste your lips, just once.

When he goes to pull away, you grab onto him, pulling him back and deepening the kiss. Your lips part, inviting him to explore you with his tongue, which he eagerly does. Your muscles tighten, and you realize his cock, which had been softening earlier, is now growing harder inside you. You gasp, intending to let him know it worked but before you can, he starts moving again and your gasp turns into moaning. There's no need for you two to keep having sex now that his erection can go away but you don't stop him. This time it's not just about relieving his pain or a means to an end, it's about something more. You both feel it, the change that he promised wouldn't happen, only you don't seem to care. No, you encourage Jisung to keep moving, to go deeper. You part your legs for him even more, letting him have all of you and surrender to the feelings pulsing through your body. It's all so new, these intense emotions you've developed for him.

Jisung's movements are slow and deliberate, each thrust unhurried. His cock slips out leisurely only to ease back in, a rhythm that makes you ache for more. More speed, more friction, more everything. You want to beg him to move faster, but the intensity of his stare leaves you feeling tongue-tied. In this moment, you're the epitome of beauty to him. Your unfocused gaze, your neediness, it's all so intoxicating, urging Jisung to continue his languid movements. He watches as your eyes struggle to focus, blinking several times before locking onto him once more and he loves it. It's as if each blink only deepens the desire he has for you.

He’s amazed that you're letting him continue to fuck you, even though there's no real reason to keep going. But damn, your body has him hooked already. You're spoiling him for any other girl he might end up with, unless... No, he won't let himself go there. He can't think of you as his, not after the promise he made. Still, he craves more of you in every possible way. Jisung's body trembles as he enters you, feeling your muscles tighten around him, and it brings a grin to his face knowing he can coax another orgasm out of you. He wonders how many can say they were able to make you cum multiple times. Did they take care of you like him? He thinks cockily. With a grunt that mingles with your soft moans, he thrusts harder, pushing deeper into you, feeling the tightness around his cock. It's a rhythm of in and out, urging his cock deeper, with nowhere to go.

Did any of your past hookups take their time like this? Fucking you nice and slow, or were they all just in it for a quick nut? Not Jisung, though. He could never, would never just fuck you for his own satisfaction. Your pleasure matters to him. It's what does it for him. He gets off on seeing you lose control because of him, on making you feel good. He doesn't even need to be buried deep inside your cunt to cum. He'd cum in his pants again fingering you or while you rode his face. Just the thought of you cumming on his face is enough to make him explode right now. The sounds you make, your touch, they're his undoing. That's why he came so hard earlier when all you did was caress his knee. He knows that now.

He's finding it impossible to hold back anymore, despite wanting you to cum first. He can't though, not when you gently place your hand on his cheek. That simple touch pushes him over the edge, and he pours himself into you with a raw moan, unable to control himself any longer. His legs shake, his toes curl, and he experiences an intense orgasm, far beyond what he had hoped the pill would give him. But it's not the pill—it's you. He knows it's you.

Watching Jisung cum inside you for the second time, you feel yourself reaching your own orgasm. With soft gasps, your cunt shudders around him. The look on Jisung's face when he cums is easily becoming addicting to you now. You could probably cum just by that look alone. It's like he's lost in the moment, completely taken over by pleasure. His face scrunches up, brows knitting together, round cheeks puffing out with each deep exhale.

You both lie there catching your breaths, quiet and completely still. His cock's still buried inside you, keeping you close. Your eyes lock, taking in every little detail of each other's faces while you both catch your breath. He could stay like this forever, your pussy snug around his cock, and he would've. Only if the sudden sound of the front door swinging open and Changbin shouting about pizza didn't burst that private bubble. It startles you both. So much so that Jisung jerks out of you with a loud pop and scrambling to his feet, making you squeal in surprise.

"Shit, do you think they heard that, Ji?" you whisper hastily pulling his sheets over your body. He shoots you a glance from across the room, a grin spreading across his face. He loves that post sex afterglow radiating from you. You've never looked hotter than you do right now, all sprawled out and naked in his bed.

“Nah, I think we're okay for now. They might just think we're taking a nap like we usually do after binge watching something.” He tells you. “We should probably get dressed in case though.” You nod and when you go to get out of the bed, he stops you. “Wait, lay back. It's my mess, let me clean it up. It's the least I can do for you.”

"Alright..." you murmur, settling back onto the bed with the blanket draped over your chest, your legs parting invitingly for Jisung. Your eyes drift to the ceiling, as you await his touch, but he hesitates. "Ji, what's—"

Your words catch in your throat as you feel the brush of his hair against your thighs and his mouth on you. "Oh, God, Ji. Fuck, that's not what I had in mind," You gasp out just as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

He glances up at you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, his lips glistening with a mixture of your shared juices. "Do you want me to stop, baby? I've got the towel right here," he offers, his tone teasing.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, pleasure pooling low in your belly. "No, don't stop," you urge softly, your voice laced with need. "Keep going. Please.”

You collapse onto the bed, feeling his head sink between your thighs. His lips and teeth graze your inner thigh, and you bite the sheets that are tightly balled up in your hands, trying to stifle any noises that might alert Chan and Changbin. When Jisung plunges his hot tongue inside of you, eating his cum and yours from your cunt like it's a five star gourmet meal, you almost let out the most pornographic sounding moan from the twirling motion of his tongue. You grab a pillow with quick hands covering your mouth so that it muffles your moans and cries.

He makes quick work in giving you another orgasm with that wicked tongue of his. You would've gladly returned the favor too if he didn't already cum in the towel that was supposed to be used for you. His mouth stayed locked on your clit while he moaned and pumped his cock into the towel. The vibration of his lips making you forget all about that thing you keep stashed in your bedside drawer at home. Yeah, Jisung eating your pussy like he was starving definitely didn't need to happen either but you're not complaining.

After getting dressed and making sure Chan and Changbin wouldn't notice anything odd, you and Jisung joined the duo and settled in for pizza, beer, and a movie. The TV casts a soft glow as some suspenseful action movie plays, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in a different kind of fantasy world. It's like your minds are synced, both drifting away from the movie. You and Jisung steal glances at each other in the dark living room, only to quickly look away.

Countless times he's caught you looking back in the direction of his room with a blush on your cheeks. He's hard just knowing that you're thinking about what happened and he wonders if you can still feel him like he can feel you. He just wants to say fuck the movie, to grab you by your wrist and drag you back to his room and fuck you again. He was actually worried that you would go through with the promise of pretending like sleeping together didn't happen but sometimes, in this case anyway, promises can be broken.

[themultifanshipper]

hear me out race engineer reader x George? like George gets distracted by reader's voice during FP which reminds him of last night 👀 I think you know where I'm going with this lol

George was going crazy.

The sound of your unintentional dirty talk over the radio was keeping him from concentrating on his session as his focus wavered around each turn of the circuit.

Terrible edited pics courtesy of yours truly

I was gonna use pictures of lando shirtless with a helmet, then I thought to myself "why not put my nonexistant photoshop talents to good use"

Warnings: Race engineer!reader, smut, mention of phone sex, tension, dirty talk, George being frustrated and horny, Cum, lots of cum, complete opposite of a professional workplace environment, and when you thought it couldn't get any worse... helmet kink

“You need to get on top, George”

He swore silently as he almost missed the turn for the fifth time that session. It was only practice but he would rather not crash his car before the first race of the season. But you weren't making it easy for him.

“Fuck, you're getting close”

Yes he was losing time to Lewis, which drove him mad at the best of times. But right now he had other things to worry about, like the fact that you were seemingly unaware that you were basically dirty talking him through a lap.

“It's getting wetter”

'Yeah, the weather' his brain unhelpfully supplied. He was only half way through the last lap but he was slowly feeling like he was loosing his grip on reality. You had to be doing this on purpose. There was no way you couldn’t hear the double-entendres you'd been saying for the past 45 minutes. And yet…

“Your vitals are spiking, you alright?”

‘Yeah no shit’ George thought. He was half hard in his suit at the moment, and with your innocently uttered filthy words it was only getting worse.

He knew it was a bad idea getting involved with his race engineer, but it was too late now.

George was initially nervous when they told him he was getting a new engineer this year,  but when he found out it was you he relaxed somewhat.

The two of you had always gotten along very well, ever since you'd joined his side of the garage in the engineering department. So well in fact, that there had been a couple of drunk incidents last year involving alcohol, dark club corners, and wandering hands.

Nothing more than some heavy petting, but still, the attraction was there and you had mutually agreed that you should stay away from each other physically if you were going to keep a working relationship and avoid drama.

But when they offered you the new position, you could hardly refuse. And you hadn't seen each other since the end of last season so any lingering tension was sure to have dissipated, right?

Wrong.

The night before testing began, you sent him a text to wish him luck. Which turned into a conversation. Which turned into a 2 hour-long phone call that ended with an orgasm each and a couple of commemorative photos.

The picture of your bed soaked in your juices, your thighs on display was burned into his brain forever.

And right now he was fucking thinking about it while driving at 300 kilometers per hour.

Not a great mix.

He got p12. Fucking shameful.

Needless to say when he got out of the car he made a beeline for you and dragged you into his driver's room, ignoring your questions about where he was taking you.

He slammed the door behind him and threw his helmet on the massage table.

“Do you have any idea what you were doing to me out there?” he growled as he started unzipping his race suit.

You frowned at him innocently (even though you knew exactly what you were doing) “I don't know what you're talking about, George”

He stalked towards you and trapped you between him and the table, pinning you with his hips, and you could feel through his fireproofs how much you'd affected him.

“Don't give me that bullshit. ‘Does it feel good, George?’ ” he hissed “anyone with half a brain listening in would know you weren't talking about the fucking car”.

You could barely contain the smirk that threatened to show on your face and you eyes twinkled with laughter.

“And what are you going to do about it?” You crossed your arms and stood up straighter, standing your ground against his impressive figure.

He narrowed his eyes and looked you up and down. “I'm going to do exactly what I've wanted to do to you since last year, and when I'm done you're not going to be able to walk out of here without help…”

You shivered and he picked you up swiflty to sit you on the table before crashing his lips to yours, hands going to your arse as he grinded his hips into yours.

This was familiar territory, kissing him was just like you remembered, frantic and desperate as his hands wandered across your body.

You quickly got to work undressing each other and it took less than 20 seconds to get you naked, and you were everything he'd dreamed of.

You panted into his mouth as the cold air made you shiver. His hand knocked against something, and when he looked, it was his helmet that was still perched on the end of the massage table.

He stared at it for a second before fixing his heated gaze on you.

If you went back in time and told yourself that you would be wearing George's race helmet as he ate you out like a man starved, making you shake and writhe on his driver's room massage table, you wouldn't have believed it.

George was relentless, alternating between broad licks and drawing precise patterns on your clit with his tongue, and he brought you to the edge faster than his lap time from earlier.

As soon as he slid a finger into your weeping cunt you were a goner. You came, clamping down on his finger as your hands all but yanked his hair straight off his talented head.

The visor of his helmet had steamed up a bit so you put it up to see George licking his fingers clean.

When your eyes met he choked on his spit. “Fuck, darlin’ you look hot with my helmet on. Maybe I should get you one to keep for… special occasions.” He licked his lips and rose to his feet to take it off you.

He kissed you again and before he could put the helmet down, you grabbed his arm and whined.

“George, put it on… please?” You blushed.

He just raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Does the idea of me fucking you with my helmet on turn you on too?”

You nodded shyly and lay down on the table, wrapping your legs around him, making his cock nudge against you and he hissed.

“What a pair we make” he chuckled and put the helmet on “maybe I should get custom matching ones made then”

The thought made your heart flutter. The idea was so… couple-y.  You weren't sure you were ready for that but the thought was quickly replaced as he slid his cock up and down your folds to get it nice and wet.

It was big, bigger than any of your exes, and perfectly curved upwards.

You started thinking maybe you were going to need help walking out of here.

He fucked you hard and deep. Expert strokes pulling you to the edge as his cock brushed perfectly against all the best spots. Not to mention the sight of his naked body looming over you with that helmet on…

You didn't last long, and you pulled him over the edge with you as you came with a shout, thighs trying to close around George's waist at the slight overstimulation.

But George was stronger, he managed to pull out and streaks of cum landed all over your stomach and puffy lips as he growled out "all fucking mine"

His fingers came and collected some of it, rubbing it along your folds before plunging them inside the wet heat. You gasped and and writhed, his long fingers immediately going for your g-spot.

He pulled out his fingers and collected some more of his cum, whike his other hand went to grab your jaw.

"Want a taste? Open up, sweetheart"

He didn't even finish his sentence before your mouth was open and your tongue was out.

The mix of your taste and his combined made your eyes roll back and you moaned around his fingers. You were out of it.

You were wrecking him.

He pulled the helmet off and you moaned at the sight of him. His hair was soaked and plastered to his forehead, pupils wide, and his lips were raw like he'd been biting at them.

What a fucking sight. And you weren't much better off.

As you stared at each other like that, something between you changed.

You realised that day, George Russell was fucking gone for you. And you matched his freak perfectly.

 

He got a fine for being late to his post practise duties, but who cared about a fine? He was going to be spending much, much more on the kinky matching helmets.

[kinzis-writing]

Better than Revenge | M.R [4]

It had been almost two years since Y/N and Mattheo had been best friends. Y/N had decided that it was time to face her past and deal with whatever consequences would follow.

This chapter will probably contain a lot of Soft! Mattheo, which is ooc but i hope you enjoy.

Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby, Ex! Theodore Nott x Y/N Nettlby.

Warning(s): order of the phoenix spoilers (a bit), mentions of sexual activities, degrading/slight abuse by parents,

iv. “this is why we can’t have nice things, darling”

Chapter Four

*Gif not mine* *not edited or proofread*

It had been approximately four days since the Slytherin party and Y/N had tried her best to avoid Mattheo and his friends. It was easier to avoid the Slytherin friend group compared to Mattheo, as it seemed that he looked for her in every class, between every class, and at every meal. She had shaken him off every time and ignored him as much as possible, but that did little to stop him.

"Y/N!" The voice of Hermione had torn through the silence of the library. The Granger girl hurriedly making her way over to her housemate. "Lorenzo told me to come find you, Riddle is fighting Nott." she spoke fast.

Y/N shot up from her chair quickly, leaving her items and headed to where Hermione was taking her. It wasn't long before the two Gryffindor girls were stopping where their friend group was trying to break them up and other houses just watching. "Hey!" Y/N yelled as she walked towards the fight.

"Y/N." Sean warned as his sister shrugged him off and went towards the fight again since he had stopped her.

"Mattheo Riddle!" Y/N yelled breaking the boys apart as she carefully pushed them away from each other, her hand staying on the one she had called. "Stop it, both of you!" she yelled again. The Slytherin friend group cleared the hallways since the fight was under control and they didn't have to worry about their friends killing each other. "What in merlin's name happened?" she asked, looking at each one of the boys.

Mattheo stood their breathing heavy and glaring at Theo, who didn't dare look at anyone. Veronica wore a proud smile on her face, unknowingly being caught by the rest of the group. "Theo was insulting you." Enzo stated simply, not wanting to go into detail in such a public place.

"If she would put out-" Veronica started before Theodore shook his head indicating her to stop when he noticed Mattheo go to step forward, but Y/N held him back. The Nettleby girl was afraid that he would not be afraid of punching a girl right now.

"Let's go." She muttered pulling Mattheo along with her and not giving any of the Slytherin's her attention. She quietly led the boy to her dormitory and straight to the shared bathroom.

She didn't say anything as she sat him down on the toilet and started using some healing spells that she knew to heal him the best she could. Some of his wounds and marks were still there, but truth be told Theo looked worse.

"This was a bad idea." Y/N stated as she avoided Mattheo's gaze and walked out of the bathroom, him following her, once she had finished the healing spells. "This plan was rubbish, especially when it makes you and Theo fight. Merlin, you two were best friends before me." she muttered.

"He won't disrespect you s'long as i'm around." Mattheo mumbled as he took a seat on the girl's bed not knowing what to expect from her next.

Y/N shook her head as she stopped pacing and turned to face the boy that she had known very well since first year. "What was the fight even about?" she asked, knowing that it had to do with the issue between her and Theo.

"that bitch seems to have an influence on Theodore." Mattheo spoke as he eyed the girl in front of him. "Veronica started first, saying how our relationship must be draining because lack of activities, your ex then going on to say that there's better lays."

Y/N nodding, even though she didn't quite understand why her not having sex with him would be this big of an issue. Maybe it was an insecurity problem, or maybe it was the only thing he truly wanted from their relationship. Whatever the case, she knew that they were not worth her breath. Yet something had to give, because she was not finishing the next two years at school and dealing with the two wizards fighting.

"Come on," Y/N spoke as she grabbed Mattheo's hand and led him out of her dorm and made her way towards the Slytherin common room. She was going to settle this once and for all, whether it made people mad or not. "Pureblood." she spoke the the door and entered the common room as the door opened, Mattheo trailing behind her.

Just as she had suspected, the friend group had skipped class after the fight had broken out. The couple joined the group, as they caught everyone's attention. Veronica looked pissed and unhappy that they had decided to show up, when they were probably getting scolded by the friend group.

"I'll leave after I say this because I am done with how immature you two are acting," She started as she pointed to her ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. "also the fact that the fights between you two," pointing at Mattheo and Theodore. "are absurd." she finished causing everyone to agree with those statements that had been made.

The girl turned to Theo before giving him a look, "You honestly want the truth? Because I have a feeling you won't want it once I started confessing." She asked the man that she used to have feelings for. When no one said anything, she looked at Mattheo to see if he had any feelings about people finding out about them. "It's true that I didn't sleep with you" She admitted to the group but kept her gaze locked on Theo's so he would know she was telling the truth. "I was going to the night you broke up with me," She admitted making Mattheo rolled his eyes and her brother look away not wanting to hear that.

"I didn't have sex with Theodore, but I wasn't a prude." Y/N looked straight in the eyes of Veronica as she spoke those words knowing that it showed who she truly was. "I lost my virginity to Mattheo the day before my birthday, 5 months before Theodore and I started dating." She told the group honestly. Sean looked sick because he didn’t want to hear that about his best friend and sister, Theo was angry and Veronica was surprised. The others not saying anything and just absorbing the information. “Besides there was other things done besides…” she trailed off before shaking her head and deciding against saying it.

Theo’s angry eyes burned right into Mattheo’s as he stood up and rushed towards the boy. Enzo pulling Y/N out of the way knowing what was coming. The Nott boys wand pressing against the neck of Mattheo. Of course, everyone thought that he wouldn’t do anything but it’s the fact that he would go that far.

“I should hex you.” Theo spoke dangerously low to his housemate and best friend.

“Now, why would you do that Nott?” Mattheo spoke calmly. Knowing nothing was going to happen and if it did that he could control the situation.

Y/N spoke up, knowing that it may make things worse but she hoped it made it better. “There’s no reason for that Theodore.” She spoke calmly, but her nerves were going wild for Mattheo. She knew he could handle his own, knowing where he came from. Still didn’t make her worry any less.

“This is rubbish, Theo.” Veronica started as she stood up and went over to rub his arm. “She isn’t worth it.”

Theodore shook her off and continued his hard glare at his best friend. “you took that from me.” He muttered causing the Riddle boy to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. “I was suppose to get that experience.”

Mattheo’s gaze darkened at what his housemate was meaning, “I didn’t take anything away from you. What experience were you wanting exactly? What claim did you think that you’d have on her?” He asked dangerously low, the patience in his voice wearing thin.

Y/N had enough of all this, she had left the common room without being noticed by Mattheo or Theodore. Who did Theo think he was, being entitled to her and what she had to give. It didn’t make any sense to the girl as to why he was acting like that. Pushing that behind her, she went back to the Gryffindor common room to hopefully have some normal time with her friends.

"Hey guys." Y/N greeted sitting her bag down beside of her and sitting down beside Hermione. Her friends greeted her back before they gave each other knowing looks. They weren't sure if their friend was aware of everything that was going on. "Are you all okay? You're acting strange..."

Hermione glanced around the group before turning her attention to the Nettleby girl, "Have you heard anything about Riddle? or has he told you anything?" she asked cautiously to not make the girl uncomfortable.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head, "No, why?"

"You know about everyone shunning Harry because of... his father and how his mother has escaped from Azkaban, and they haven't found her." Ginny explained to the girl trying to get her to understand their concern and everything about the situation.

Ron looked at Harry before turning his attention to the girls, "Harry said that they think his followers are planning something."

realization dawned on Y/N as her friends continued talking about the situation at hand. It was true about Bellatrix had escaped from Azkaban and she had completely forgotten to ask Mattheo how he felt about it, seeing as it made headlines. Y/N knew that his father was also back, or at least trying to make a comeback. Not only because she trusted her friends but because she could feel it. Coming from a family of death eaters allowed for this stuff to make sense.

"My parents are hosting a dinner that my brother and I have to attend." Y/N spoke making the golden trio and Ginny turn towards her. "I bet it has something to do with him." she added as she looked around her friend group.

"Please tell me you're not going." Harry begged in his own way to his friend. They all knew that Y/N's family was pureblood Slytherin's and death eaters, the Weasley's were even a bit unsure when Ron invited her over for the holidays when he found out that she refused to go home. Now it was clear that she was nothing like her family and wanted a different life, fighting for the good side of things.

Y/N shrugged, "I have to, or they will literally track me down." she mumbled as she noticed the tension in the room.

🪄

It was the time that she had dreaded for the past two weeks. The dinner that her mother had excitedly written to both of her kids about. To make matters worse for the Gryffindor girl, she knew it would be a death eaters meeting, seeing as almost everyone in Sean and Mattheo's group would be there.

"They're going to murder me." Y/N whispered to Sean as the youngest twin sat on her brother's bed as he laid out his suit. "I am a bloody Gryffindor, and everyone that's going to be here is Slytherin death eaters." The twins were still not close, but they were closer than previously due to her connection with Mattheo and after how Theo had treated her.

"I'll go down with you if they try anything." Sean promised as he noticed how distraught his sister looked. "Mattheo won't let anything happen to you either."

Y/N scoffed slightly at what her older brother had said, It was true that Mattheo was far from his parents when no one was around. But how would he act when multiple of his family's allies was in the same room? He had always acted a big stuck up or cold towards the girl whenever the Netteby's hosted Christmas parties and everything. "Our parents like you more, they'll make sure you live. They'll place the unforgivable spell on me."

"You'll survive." Sean promised before shoving his sister out of his room so he could get ready.

Y/N rolled her eyes before going to her room and getting ready. To blend in with everyone that was going to be at Nettleby manor, she had decided on another green dress. Something that would make her look mature but attractive at the same time. She quickly straightened up her hair and makeup before taking a couple deep breaths and heading downstairs to meet whatever fate was waiting for her.

"Y/N, you're late." Mrs. Nettleby scolded her eyes glaring at the girl in front of her. "You don't need to be a bigger disappointment than you already are." she muttered. A few of the other death eaters laughed at the mother's comment.

Y/N held her head high and stood up straighter, "Sorry mother." she muttered before stepping around her mother and going into the kitchen in her house.

"You don't walk away until I say I am done with you!" Mrs. Nettlby spoke harshly as her heels click-clack every time she stormed towards her daughter. "You should be grateful for the life that you have with us, we would have kicked you out if we didn't have a plan for you." she spoke in her normal harsh tone.

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly as she starred at her mother, "Plan for me?" she asked wanting to know what the group of death eaters planned to do with her.

Mrs. Nettleby gave her daughter a wicked smile before she grabbed her daughter by the shoulder and pushed her out to where the group was waiting for her. "Our daughter wants to know what her main purpose is, I think it's time we elaborate."

Sean's expression changed as he noticed the harsh grip that his mother had on his sister. He knew that his family treated her different since she was sorted into Gryffindor, but he did not understand why. He went to speak up before Lucius Malfoy stepped in front of the group of Slytherin boys. "I think it's time for you to let the adults talk." He spoke monotoned to the group of boys.

"What are you going to do to my sister?" Sean asked the father of his friend. His glare was hard as he tried to figure out what the death eaters wanted with his sister.

Lucius gave him a dark look, "that is between us and her, Mr. Nettleby." He spoke before ushering the boys out of the room.

After the boys had left everyone gathered around the table, the grip Mrs. Nettleby had on her daughter tightened as discussion started around the group of his army. "Here is what you must do."

“They wouldn’t hurt her, would they?” Sean asked nervously as he waited for the adults to break the spell on the door.

Draco scoffed, “they would.” He spoke monotonously.

Theodore had been ignored by Mattheo and Sean, but he was even look nervous now. He may have a grudge held against his best friend, but he would admit that Y/N didn’t deserve to be tortured by the groupies in the den.

Before anyone could speak up the doors opened and Mr. Nettleby threw his daughter out before closing the doors again. The girl’s shoulders were already turned slightly purple from the grip and fingernails of her mother. Her once neat hair was how messy and her makeup was smudged. A red mark shaped like a handprint laid across her right cheek.

Y/N didn’t dare say anything, all she did was take her heels off and raced to her room. Sean went to follow her but was held back by Draco who knew that Mattheo would want to follow the girl. After all, it was the boy’s father’s followers that did whatever damage to the girl.

Y/N rushed to her room and quickly got her duffle, whatever she had left at home was going back with her to Hogwarts. There was no one she could risk coming home again.

“Y/N,” Mattheo’s voice spoke softly from the doorway of the girl’s bedroom. “What’s going on?”

“I’m leaving.” She whispered hoping that they couldn’t curse him to get it out of him. She knew her parents would find her at hogwarts, which made her worried. “I can’t stay here, not with what they’re expecting me to do.”

Mattheo cautiously stepped into the bedroom that he was slightly familiar with. He didn’t want to startle the girl seeing as she was in a vulnerable state. “What did they do?” He asked carefully, he noticed the way her eyes squeezed shut and a tear fell down. “Let me help you.”

Y/N turned to him fully, so he got the full view of her. Her cheek now a slightly different color due to the impact of whoever slapped her across the face. “You can’t help me, Teo.” She whispered on the verge of breaking.

“Let me try,” he pleaded, hating seeing the girl the way that she was currently. “I’ll try to fix it.”

“I have to get out of here,” she told him. “I have to go into hiding or something.” She mumbled as her eyes finally fully met his.

Mattheo stepped forward again and carefully reached out and grabbed her hand in a comforting way. “Tell me what they want you to do.”

“They want me to spy on Harry,” she whispered. His hand gave hers a big squeeze. Knowing that she was best friends with him, sure he hated Harry. Most of it being because of his father and everything that happened. “They want me to spy on the the Weasley’s as well.” She added her heart breaking as she spoke.

“Maybe we can figure something out,” Mattheo tried to reason but they both knew better. Death Eaters showed no remorse for anyone, not even their own kids. At least, the Nettleby’s didn’t. “We can find a way for you to make them happy but keep your friends safe.”

Y/N shook her head as more tears fell down, “that’s not the worse part.” She muttered as his hand went to rest on her cheek.

“I’m sure we can get through it.” Mattheo reassured, his thumb wiping away the tears as they fell.

“They’re going to force me to become like them.” She told the guy that she cared deeply for in front of her. Mattheo paled, knowing exactly what she meant. It was exactly what his father and mother had been planning for him since the plan to get his father back. “They’re forcing me to join your fathers army.”

That sentence was enough for Mattheo to fear for the girl in front of him. It was enough to feel his own heart break. Because someone so sweet, caring, and willing to help others did not deserve to have that life that he was destined to live.

Little note: hi! It’s been longer than I hoped and I’m sorry many things got in the way but here’s an update. I hope you enjoyed and we’re getting to the juicy stuff. I did change the plot a bit since this went from a George Weasley x reader (rough draft) and I did a full switch to Mattheo Riddle x reader. I think I’m going to start adding a word count at the beginning of my chapters just so I can keep track of how many words I usually write per chapter. Next update should be out soon! I’ve started writing requests but I’ll catch up with blogmas first! 🥰

Tag list: @yoichiislovie @justhavingsomefun1 @lafrone @julesandro @prongprincessworld @bruher @mattiesgirl @itsamusical4lifee @frogtape @blueeweeb @harrysnovia @kiwi475 @wildlyobserving @devotedlycrookeddonut @oi-itse @dear-fifi @grandtheoristpeach @dory-98 @lovesanimals0000 @supernatural-lover @joekbff @ivy-34 @jasmine2105 @cmervns @jetblackpayne @b4b3tte @xmadigurlx @thecraziestcrayon @whoknowsbut

I think I added everyone! If i missed someone or I tagged the wrong account and you wanna be untagged just let me know. 🫶

[it-happened-one-fic]

Any Weight - Idia

Author Notes: So I really didn't know what I was going to post today in terms of oneshots, so this happened. This fic has been sitting my google docs for quite while and honestly started out life as practice for writing Idia. I wrote this and edite it while listening to the song "Heavy in Your Arms" by Florence in the Machine. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff with angst/ comfort/ romance highly implied/ Spoilers for Ignihyde Chapter

Word Count: 1539

Idia shifted slightly as you leaned against his back, reading some book as he farmed one of his games. And in easy, quiet moments like this, with the weight of your body resting gently against his, feeling like a silent but ever-present promise, it was easy to forget the truth of his situation. Of his life.

But Idia was cursed. It was a weighty, but simple truth that had hung over his head for his entire life. Because he’d never known a life where he wasn’t cursed.

Idia was cursed to remain chained to the Island of Woe, to S.T.Y.X., and to guard the remains of those who’d fallen prey to their own magic and dark thoughts, just like he almost had back when you’d come all the way to S.T.Y.X.’s headquarters after Grim and your friends.

Idia was also cursed to never be able to feel darkness’s embrace, which could hide even the greatest of shames, until the light inevitably came. Because his hair always shone that cold blue light on him. Never letting him hide away from the gaze of all those who looked upon him in horror or disgust and saw all of his many flaws.

Idia was even cursed by his own personality. Unable to tolerate being around others without shutting down and drowning in their silent gazes. Judgmental, fearful, and sometimes pitying, no matter how he felt about it.

It was disgusting, infuriating, and so many other things that left him filled with ire towards anyone and everyone who didn’t understand him or his life. If they were going to gawk at him, then he would mock them for their naive, stupid views, and avoid them. There was no use in bothering with people who would never care.

After all, his life had been decided for him from the very moment he’d been born.

And all of those reasons, as well as so many others, were why he’d pushed you away initially. A laughable thought now, considering you were sitting on his bed, with your back pressed to his in a gentle reminder of your presence that, rather than causing him to tense like so many did, made him relax into the silence that rested easily between the two of you.

But when he’d first met you, he never would have imagined this. Not with how you’d seemed so strange. 

A weirdo, to be sure, with the way your gaze had never held that crushing weight that threatened to smother him that so many others had.

Some person from another world who apparently had far greater concerns than a flame-haired freak that lived in some other dorm. And, to an extent, Idia had been able to respect that.

It had quickly become obvious that you were more than just a weirdo, though. If nothing else, you were capable of handling and surviving numerous overblots. And even as he was getting to know you, it had already been clear to Idia that you were capable of so much more than him.

And that was still clear to him even today. Because if he was a curse, then you were more akin to a blessing.

A blessing who stepped in and stopped overblots from destroying their victims rather than studying the remains of those who were already done for.

A blessing who could see people at their very worst, and still accept them.

And finally, you were a blessing in that you had a personality that was like a balm to introverts. A person he could just be himself around without having to be surrounded by the multitude of people who’d already noticed your calming demeanor.

In reality, Idia knew you weren’t a blessing. Something so good could never survive in a school like this one. And he’d experienced firsthand exactly how much of a pest you could be.

But even with that knowledge, there were still moments when you were like a protagonist with the way you stood out so glaringly from the crowd.

Of course, Idia stood out from the crowd as well, but never in a remotely good way. 

At odds with this, your only supposedly negative quality was that you lacked magic. And while it did make your life a pain sometimes, you never let it bother you. Not like how Idia let his negative qualities and anything he lacked burden him.

And it was a heavy burden. A heavy burden that Idia knew made him equally heavy and unpleasant to be around. Because Idia was no fool. He knew his presence, his friendship, and even his very existence was a weighty one. He could easily drag a person down to their doom with the curses that trailed after him, like an entourage that couldn’t and wouldn’t go unnoticed.

And all of those reasons, plus a myriad of others, were why your presence here, with him, right now ought to be strange. But it wasn’t. In fact, it was perfectly normal for you to hang out with him in the solace of his room. Sometimes gaming with him, and sometimes just doing your own thing in silent companionship.

The selfish part of him clung to both you and your presence even as he continued to face his game in silence. 

Were he just a bit bolder, it would be easy to imagine himself turning to face you and wrapping his arms around your neck, with his fingers curling around your temple as if they could crown you as he cradled you to him.

But what could he ever crown you with other than the knowledge that you deserved far better?

It was his way of betraying you, and he knew that. His betrayal was one of the reasons he never tried to cross the dotted line that strained to keep you and him from growing any closer. Similarly, it was the reason the silence remained between the two of you as Idia pondered all of the oddities that were your relationship with him.

Because you supported him. Embracing him in your arms like he was weightless, rather than the way he knew he had to be a chain tangling itself around your ankles, threatening to trip you up and drag you down.

But you didn’t let him sink, and you didn't get pulled down by him. 

It was like you were a hero in some tropey anime. Willing to plunge into the very deepest of sorrows and pull him out. Never fearing the chances of drowning in the deep darkness of his curses, but also not shunning the light that revealed all. Good and bad.

Or if you did fear it, you didn’t let that fear hold you back. And perhaps that thought was even more alarming. Because that meant you cared about him enough to not let fear hold you back.

Either way, you seemed to just accept both his good and bad traits. Taking it all on with a smile not unlike the one you’d worn when you’d first forced your way into his life.

You’d shrugged off his moody words and met his gaze with your smiling one, “Nobody’s perfect, and it’s not like you’re the only guy at NRC who has overblotted or has caused me problems.”

You were definitely still a strange one, but Idia could no longer view that strangeness as bad. How could he when you could somehow look at the chains that surrounded him, binding him to his curses and doing their best to condemn him and those he chose to tie himself to, and smile in the face of it all? 

But as frustrating as your strange but oddly charming weirdness was, it made him want to do better.

To support you just like how you supported him. To let you know that even in this world that was not your own, you weren’t alone.

If you could willingly walk into that never-ending light that constantly showed his every weakness to the entire, unforgiving, and uncaring world, then he would hide you in the darkness and carry you when it hurt too much.

Because he knew it hurt, even if you hid it well with that smile that only seemed to truly fail you when you were facing an overblot or when the mention of your home came up.

Even if you were strong enough to carry him and all his curses, Idia knew it hurt and that the nights were long for you. 

In fact, it was obvious to him.

Because that weight you carried was why, even after having made friends and forged yourself a family, you still sought your own world. And he recognized that weight’s presence. How could he not when he was all too familiar with carrying a burden all his own?

But you would never be too heavy for him. Not when he was used to carrying the weight of his own curses.

He could carry you, and you would never drag him down. In fact, he doubted your feet would ever even touch the ground. Because, just like how the weight of you leaning against him was more of a comfort than a burden, he knew that, if it was you, he could carry any weight.

[cherubmm]

✖🔪 ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ON MY.Knees࿐ྂ

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━FEATURING: CROSS.sans

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━CONTENT WARNING: Yandere in general. Soft yandere. Obsessive & Possessive behavior. Unhealthy attachment. Implied neglectful behavior. Established relationship. Delusional mindset. Vague hint of worshipping behavior. Subtly implied abandoment issue. Violence mention. Implied submissive behavior. ANGST. Stalking. OOC. Not proof-read (I got lazy near the end if you can tell)

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━PROMPT BY : oozgin

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why am I keep messing up!?!!?😭😭😭😭 I'm merely editing this on my scheduled post but then it keeps publishing????? Huh?????? Why does the Tumblr keep doing this to me😭😭😭 this is supposed to be for Oct.13!!! But *sigh* whatever, its already here. Enjoy the early treat, again >:(( Hope this won't happen' to another one fic for 14.... Tumblr fuck you :(((

It wasn’t often for Cross to come home.

Well, at least, not anymore. He’d leave before the sun rose, returning long after it set. You used to wait for him, staying up into the late hours of the night, but now? You barely bothered. He’d stumble through the door, mumbling something vague before disappearing into the bedroom or onto the couch without so much as a glance your way.

You understood—you really did. Cross was busy, whatever his job was, it demanded a lot from him. He hadn’t exactly shared the details, and you’d stopped asking after the first dozen times he dodged the question. But no matter how much you tried to rationalize it, it was starting to gnaw at you.

At first, it was just a pang of sadness. Then it became annoyance, maybe even anger. You weren’t one of those cliché lovers who needed constant attention—far from it, actually. You valued your independence, enjoyed your solitude. But this was beginning to feel less like space and more of a...neglect.

He was your lover, wasn’t he? You were supposed to be partners, but lately, it felt like you were the only one holding onto that thread. Every time he came home, he avoided you. No more soft conversations over breakfast, no stolen moments in the afternoon. Just excuses, avoidance, and silence.

The worst part was, you’d started to get used to it. Slowly, your love for him had dimmed, like a flame starved of oxygen. You found yourself becoming comfortable in your own company again, just as you had before Cross ever came into your life. It wasn’t a sudden fall out of love—it was gradual, quiet and subtle. You no longer saw him as your lover, just someone who passed through your life occasionally—acquaintance.

Eventually, you couldn’t do it anymore. The words weighed heavy on your tongue as you prepared yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed. Cross had just come home, dragging his feet, knives still strapped to his side. You waited until he was settled, cleaning his weapons at the table.

“Im breaking up with you.”

...

Cross always thought he was the luckiest skeleton in the entire multiverse.

Of all the infinite versions of himself—sometime's even far, far, better than him—of all the different timelines and universes, he was the one who had found you. He was the one who had you by his side, as beautiful and perfect as you were.

Not even the original version of him—the one from the timeline he could never go back to—had what he did. and that made him feel so special.

Even now, as he wiped the blood from his knives, his mind was filled with thoughts of you. He knew he wasn’t home nearly as much as he should be. Every time he left, there was a pang of guilt that dug deep into his bones. He hated leaving you behind, but what choice does he have? His boss wouldn’t hesitate to come after you if he comes to the conclusion that cross was 'slacking off'' of his work due to his lover. Hell, it was merely a stroke of luck that nightmare decided to not only keep you alive and well, but also provide protection —unbeknownst to you— even knowing his distaste for 'distraction' that attaches to those on his side.

This, of course, was a constant weight on his mind — a sense of indebted. Forcing him to swore his loyalty and obedience to the latter even againts his will. But at least, while he was out there doing Nightmare’s dirty work, you were safe, and that's all that ever matters.

While he couldn’t spend time with you like he wanted to, he could make sure nothing— absolutely nothing—harmed you. The Star Sanses? No threat. Any danger from outside your universe? He handled it.

And on the rare nights he did return? When you were already asleep? Those were slowly becoming his favorite moments. Cross would sit at the edge of the bed or crouch beside you, watching you sleep peacefully. He’d run his fingers through your hair, brushing your cheek, whispering softly to your unconscious form. Confessions of love, of guilt. He’d wish for a world where the two of you could just live a domestic, quiet life—where he didn’t have to kill for survival or settle in the constant state of paranoia— again.

He didn't want the history to repeat itself ever again now that you're here. God, he couldn't even imagine what will happen to him if you're no longer on his side to keep him sane.

But alas, he couldn’t give you that, yet. So, he settled on making you safe instead, hoping you’d understand one day.

...

"Im breaking up with you."

The sound of sharpening knives stopped abruptly. Cross froze, his back still turned to you, as if your words had doused him in cold water. Slowly—almost mechanically—he turned his skull in your direction, his pinprick eye shrinking to a tiny dot before flickering in and out like a dying lightbulb. There was something unsettling about the way he stared at you. For a brief second, his usual stoic expression faltered, a flash of... something. Confusion? Betrayal? Fear? But then, he laughed nervously, trying to play it off as a joke.

"Hahaha... t-that’s a good one, darling. You almost caught me,” he stammered, his grin unnaturally wider than the usual as he tried to shake off the tension.

"I’m not joking, Sans,” you replied, your voice steady despite the unease creeping into your gut.

Y-yeah, sure, whatever you say.” He turned back to his knives, trying to focus on his task, but his hands phalanges trembled.

“Sans, listen to me. I wasn’t—”

CRRK!!

The dagger in his hands broke in half as Cross shot to his feet, staring at the shattered blade as if it had betrayed him. His breathing grew uneven as he slowly turned toward you again, his eye flickering with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“Why?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper as he took a hesitant step forward. You took a step back instinctively. "Why are you saying this...?"

You tried to explain, though the words didn’t come easily. You told him how you felt—how distant things had become, how lonely you were. How the relationship was falling apart and you both are better off no longer being in each other.

But every time you spoke, Cross took another step forward, his hand reaching out as if to grab onto you, and you found yourself taking another step back.

In a blink, he was in front of you, faster than you could process. Then, there was a small 'ping' sound before you felt yourself flung backward, slamming into the nearest wall that knocked the breath from your lungs. His hands gripped your shoulders, hard enough to hurt, as his face hovered inches from yours.

"Oww-! Sans what the fuck—!?"

His bony hands gripped your shoulders tightly, an anchor that pinned you in place. “Just LISTEN to me first darling. You have to understand—” Tears began to stream from his eye sockets, glistening like pearls against his skeletal face. “I DON'T have a choice” he cried, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s all for you! To make you safe! Please, you NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT!!”

You tried to pull away, but his hold only tightened.

His knees buckled, and you stumbled as he dragged you down with him, his hands still clinging to you like a lifeline.“No, no, please— reconsider!! I-i’ll try to change, I’ll do whatever you want—I’ll beg, I’ll be on my knees forever, just—please?”

Ⓒ𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐦 ──── 10/11/24 Navigation | Masterlist

[nickfowlerrr]

let’s not.

pairing: mickey henry x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut. feelings. happy ending. not edited. maybe a little ooc- i haven’t watched monday in a minute and i am currently heavy in my feelings so apologies if he is.

words: 1.7k

notes: just a drabble of another fic idea i can’t commit to fully fleshing out and writing. enjoy 🩵

You hiss as your hips slam against the edge of the table. Hard. Over and over again.

The only thing keeping you from dropping to the ground is his hold on you. His large hands gripping your soft waist so tightly you can feel the bruises no doubt forming already.

You let your head hang as you remain pliant to him, low breathy sighs leaving you in between your soft moans every time he hits that one specific spot.

Oh, this was so not how tonight was supposed to go…but it feels too good to care about that right now.

You’re on that very delicate edge, overwhelmed by the pain and pleasure of the way he completely controls you; the way he touches you, the filthy words and sickly sweet praises he groans in your ear as he pushes you both closer and closer to your ends.

Your walls squeeze his cock as your voice peaks. His hand flexes on your waist as he feels your imminent release.

“That’s it,” he breathes heavily against your skin as he leans further into you, his thrusts hitting harder as he chases his high. “Feels good, doesn’t it. Ah, fuck. Come for me, baby. Come on my cock,” he growls. “Let me feel you.”

You wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer if you’d wanted to as your orgasm hits you hard; your muscles tensing, your hand gripping his arm and your eyes scrunching shut as you feel entirely electric before wave after wave of pleasure rolls over you as you succumb to the feeling. To him.

It takes only a moment to realize your eyes are stinging with tears, but it’s not until you slowly start to come down that you realize why.

More like remember why.

He grunts and moans as he reaches his own peak, coming inside you but making sure to keep his hold on you as he works himself through his release.

God, here you are again. Different night, same fucking story. Over and over again.

You feel like a fucking idiot.

You are a fucking idiot.

He slowly pulls out of you, backs up for a second and then keeping his hand on your waist, he pulls your body back into him, hugging you from behind as you frown at the apparent show of affection.

You push his hand off of you and escape his hold before you can allow yourself sink into it, walking gingerly around the table to bend and grab your sweater off the floor - the unflattering one that you had chosen specifically to avoid ending up in this situation again.

That worked well.

You pull it on as he follows behind you, watching you with an intensity you don't want to notice, brows slightly furrowed and his icy blue eyes set on you.

“What, one and done tonight? You alright, sweetheart?” He asks, making a move closer to you, reaching out before you stop him with your response.

“God, can you just stop with the pet names,” you snap, turning to face him, “please.”

It’s like he doesn’t remember the fifteen minutes of conversation you had before he got your clothes off - easy as ever. You don’t think he means to, but the second you start to show your emotions, the second you start to cry, it’s like he can’t help but to try and comfort you. Unfortunately, his idea of comfort always seems to be this.

And even more unfortunate, you always let it happen.

It’s pathetic.

It helps for the time it lasts and then everything hits all over again.

“This is exactly what I was talking about, Mickey,” you’re exasperated already, “you act like you care and y-you give me hope that this might actually be…something more, but,” you shake your head, “all it is to you is sex.” He doesn't move from where he stands, but he drops his hand that was outstretched to you.

You can’t hold his eye for very long, it’s already hurting too much. You drop your gaze but it’s only for a moment before you force yourself to look back up at him. You have to ask the question you really don’t want to know the answer to…

“Isn’t it?”

It’s two simple words, a very simple question, but as your eyes are stinging, pleading for the truth, you know it’s anything but.

He blinks, opens his mouth to speak as he shakes his head, but ultimately says nothing before he takes a deep breath, looking away from you and down to the floor. He licks his lips, nervous habit, before he frames his hips with his hands.

“Should put pants on,” he mutters before walking away, down the hall to his bedroom.

You stand there in a perpetual limbo, listening as he opens a dresser drawer and riffles through the clothes for a second before you hear the drawer close again. It’s not long after that he emerges from his room, pulling a pair of sweats the rest of the way up his legs.

He comes back to stand before you as you lean lightly on the table, desperate not to fall and embarrass yourself any further. You know what comes next.

The inevitable.

The end.

You know how this started, and you’ve known from the beginning how it would end. You just weren’t expecting to get so caught up in him. You weren’t expecting to feel so much with him. For him

It’s your own fault. You couldn’t blame him if you wanted to. It just hurts so much more knowing it was all so one sided, that he didn’t - doesn’t - feel the same way… when you let yourself think too much about it, it doesn’t seem possible actually. As hard as you tried to ignore your feelings for him when they first started growing, it just wasn’t possible. Whatever it is - was - between you two…how could it have been so one sided? How could he not have noticed what you noticed, felt what you felt?

Maybe he just doesn’t want all that with you. Maybe he’s just not ready? Whatever it is, you know you can’t keep waiting for something to give.

You’ve finally come out with it, told him in no uncertain terms how you feel about him, about this…arrangement? relationship that’s not really a relationship?… and so, now he knows. Having sex with you after you confessed your feelings for him, well that was a choice, but you don’t think you’re all too upset about it actually. If this is it, it’s a memorable goodbye.

You’re conscious of your lack of bottoms as you stare at his clothed legs, waiting for the words you’re sure he’s gathering in his mind. He’ll let you down gently, you bet. He’s sweet, and he hates to see you cry. At least you know he’ll be nice about it.

He takes a cautious step closer to you and reaches out a hand to yours, finding your eye to make sure it’s okay first.

When you don’t object or look away, he gingerly takes your hand in his and pulls you closer to him. You swallow the lump in your throat as a tear spills over the edge and slips down your cheek, turning your head to avoid his concerned gaze.

His hand finds your cheek and he turns your face back to him, taking a step closer into you. His hand holds yours as his other holds your face, his thumb gently swiping away at the tear. He takes another step closer, and you’re so close you could just collapse into him completely, chest to chest.

“No,” he whispers, his voice low, sounding deeper than you’ve ever heard it as he looks into your eyes. Your brows furrow as you hear him.

One simple word. A very simple answer. But it’s really anything but. Because what the hell does that mean?

He sees the question in your eyes before you can voice it.

“It was supposed to be. For both of us, I thought,” he adds, reminding you again of how this whole thing started. Just sex. It was supposed to be just sex. He still holds your cheek as you look down, your free hand reaching up to touch his forearm. “But no. It’s not.”

He makes you meet his eye again as he walks into you, your bottom against the table at your back as he lets go of your hand and slips it under the hem of your sweater. His warm palm gliding up and smoothing over your skin, almost tickling you up and down, feeling you, caressing you gently before once again he settles it on his favorite spot, holding your waist delicately. He leans in, his nose brushing yours.

“It’s so much more than that,” his soft lips brush lightly against yours as you take a shaky breath, your body searching for him without you even realizing it before he kisses you again. Firmer, deeper, and with a fervency you’ve never felt before from him; like he’s been holding himself back all this time. Your free hand reaches up to frame his head, your fingers splaying in his hair as you kiss him back just as desperately. You almost feel like you’re in a dream as you lose yourself to him.

He moves you both as you continue your kissing, you following his lead until he turns you and you find yourself falling onto his couch. You catch your breath as you look up at him before he follows you down, pushing you to relax as he lays down next to you. He maneuvers you both so he’s holding you again. You tilt your head up to him, and he readily accepts the invitation, kissing you softly before speaking against your lips. “You don’t know how relieved I was the second you said something,” he titters, like you were the one who was missing the obvious this entire time. He takes your face softly in his hands.

“You’re so much more than that.”

You smile softly back, trying to hold back a sniffle at the clear sincerity in his eyes that has your nose tingling.

“So, you…” you trail off, hands idly ghosting along his chest as you try to think of how you want to ask him.

“Feel the same way,” he finishes for you in affirmation. “There’s something here. And it’s definitely not just sex. ‘D be crazy to try to ignore that. So let’s not.”

You nod, holding his bright blue gaze, a small smile tugging on both of your lips as you look into each other’s eyes; unconsciously leaning closer to one another.

“Let’s not.”