#better late than never idk...................

[ninisdollie]

summer bummer - jake sim 𓈒ིུ ❤︎

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“In which reader and Jake see each other only in the summer, finding themselves between tangled sheets and filthy words. But this year, it’s not just sex anymore.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x jake, friends with benefits! to lovers, fingering, dirty talking, unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m rec), riding, multiple positions, spitting, porn with a little emotional plot idk.

word count: 7.0k

hate comments will be deleted and blocked, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

The field by the lake hadn’t changed, same driftwood benches, same cooler of cheap beer half-buried in the dirt, same old Bluetooth speaker trying its best to fight against the crackle of the fire. A few faces had grown older, a few new ones floated in from the city for the summer, but the rhythm was the same.

You always traveled back to your hometown for vacation, where you could forget about your city girl live, where most of your childhood friends still lived, where you spent the days tanning under the burning sun and drinking margaritas.

You were perched on a log near the flames, cold drink in hand, sweat beginning to bead at the nape of your neck despite the breeze off the water, despite the thin fabric of your short flower dress. Your friends were around you, Jay had brought his guitar like always, Heeseung was already tipsy, throwing rocks into the lake and yelling about something stupid. It was light, fun and meaningless. But you couldn’t stop checking the curve of the dirt road, waiting.

He was coming tonight, you knew it. Jake Sim.

It was never official. Not a relationship or a fling. It was almost like a summer tradition, like fireworks and iced tea and peeling sunburnt skin. You came back every year, and so did he. Like gravity, something written in body. No goodbyes, no promises, just heat and hands and stolen nights that left you wrecked until fall. You’d known him for years at this point, same boy who almost drowned in your parent’s pool at twelve, same boy who kissed you in truth or dare, same boy who knew your body much better than yourself.

The thing is, you barely spoke the rest of the year. A couple likes on Instagram. A birthday text, maybe. But no late-night calls, no long conversations. It was easier that way. If you talked too much, it would start to feel real. If it felt real, you’d both ruin it.

But still, you knew what it meant when you saw his name light up your phone two weeks before summer.

Jake Sim: you coming back this year?

Your fingers trembled over the keyboard.

Me: of course, always.

Because it didn’t matter how much time passed. The second your eyes met again, everything came flooding back, the way he kissed you like he was starving, the roughness of his voice when he begged to stay inside just a little longer, the way your bodies fit like puzzle pieces designed by the sun itself.

You weren’t in love. But it was close enough to hurt when you had to go back to your city every year.

So you both kept a silent deal. You didn’t ask who he fucked in the winter. He didn’t ask if you missed him in the spring. You only cared about the here and now, the sticky, sacred months of July and August. You only cared about sweat-slicked skin and beach towels and his hand gripping your throat like it was the only way he knew how to say I missed you.

Your stomach twisted when you heard it.

Tires crunching over gravel, laughter, car doors slamming.

You didn’t even have to turn to know because you felt it.

He was here.

It had been eleven months, two weeks, and six days since he last fucked you against the wall of your aunt’s bathroom at the end-of-summer party. You’d cried after. Not because of him, but because leaving always felt like peeling your skin off and flying back to a world where Jake didn’t exist.

But now he walked in like he owned the night, as always, that soft and chill aura like he didn’t care about anything in the world. Sun-kissed and cocky, rings on his fingers, black tshirt clung to his chest like it was begging for your attention. Ni-ki was beside him, already tossing a grin toward the group by the cooler, but Jake?

Jake looked straight at you.

The air left your lungs like a punch. You hated that it still did this to you, turned your insides to syrup and your thighs to heat. One look, that’s all it took. You didn’t smile, or wave. Just sipped your drink and looked back like it didn’t matter, letting the breeze wave your hair against your face.

“Finally decided to show up.” Heeseung dabbed him up, but his eyes were still locked on your face.

He stopped a few feet away, slow steps bringing him just close enough to let your body register him, his smell, his shadow, the ghost of his hands already on your skin. His voice was casual when he finally spoke.

“City girl had the time to come this year” he said, the exact same thing he said last summer. The same damn line.

Your lips curved around your drink, glossy and shining under the warm light of the fire.

“I always come, Jake.”

He smiled like he wanted to say something filthy about that. Like he remembered every single time. Then his eyes trailed down your body, slow and intentional because of course he wanted you to notice. You squirmed a bit, flipping your hair over your shoulder.

The fire was crackling between you two. Ni-ki called his name, someone handed you another beer, which you rejected with a smile, Sunghoon yelled something about “going crazy this summer”, but it all blurred. The music was loud, but your heart was louder.

“You look good,” Jake added, voice low enough that only you could hear it.

You smiled softly, tilting your head, took in the curve of his arms, his thick lips, the gold chain glinting at his collarbone, the heat in his eyes.

“I always look good” you whispered back.

He chuckled, stepping back, walking away like he hadn’t just lit every nerve in your body on fire.

But you knew how this would end.

Because he was here looking at you like he hadn’t had a decent orgasm since the last time you moaned his name.

After a few hours, the fire started burning low. People had thinned out, some stumbling back to their parents’ houses, others crawling into tents by the lake or paired off under trees in the dark. The music had died to background static. Your drink was warm and half-full, forgotten in your hand. The air was still thick with smoke, beer, and heat that clung to your skin even after sundown.

You’d been sitting on the edge of a blanket, legs stretched out, staring into the dying embers and the star-full sky, when Ni-ki wandered over, car keys dangling from his finger, hair a bit messy.

“You need a ride?” he asked, voice lazy, smile crooked. “I’m sober, Jake’s coming to.”

You hesitated for only a second before you saw Jake trailing behind him.

One glance from him was enough. That slight tilt of his head, that litlle smile on his lips, the way his eyes dipped down to your mouth just for one second before biting his lips. He didn’t say anything. Just leaned against the side of the car, one hand in his pocket, eyes still on you.

“Yeah,” you said, too quickly. “Thanks, Ki”

Inside, Ni-ki’s father’s truck smelled like weed and cologne and dried lake water. The windows were halfway down, the music low and thumping with bass. You were pressed against the cool leather, the hem of your dress creeping up your thighs with every shift. Jake climbed in right beside you, not even pretending to leave space, it wasn’t even necessary for him to sit besides you, and his thigh brushed yours, firm and warm.

Neither of you said anything.

Ni-ki started the car and chatted from the front, his voice a cheerful hum against the dark. Something about the girls by the cooler. Someone puking behind the dock. You nodded, made a sound of agreement, but every nerve in your body was tuned to Jake. His arm was stretched lazily across the back of the seat, fingertips just grazing your shoulder, his touch already setting your skin on fire. He smelled like smoke and sweat perfume and him. Familiar and dangerous.

“Is school going well?” he asked under his breath, close enough that his mouth nearly touched your cheek.

You turned toward the window.

“Yeah, it’s been nice. You?”

He didn’t answer. Just smiled again and let his hand drop, light and casual, until the side of it was resting against your bare thigh. It wasn’t even obvious. Ni-ki didn’t notice, too busy driving and still talking, and Jake didn’t move. His fingers didn’t trail, just a slight pressure. But it was enough to remind you of every time he’d had you spread out in the back of a car like this before, drunk off each other, reckless and flushed.

The road dipped, and the jostle made his palm shift higher on your leg.

You bit your lip.

“Cute dress,” he murmured. “Little short, though.”

You pulse started to rush, and it was suddenly so hot inside the car. Then his fingers crept under the hem of your dress, brushing the inside of your thigh, higher and higher, until you felt your whole body clench.

“—right? So I told Heeseung not to piss his girlfriend off—” Ni-ki kept talking in the front seat, totally oblivious, laughing at his own story.

Meanwhile Jake’s fingers brushed against the thin cotton of your panties, and exhaled through his nose.

“You wore these for me?” he whispered, dragging one finger slowly over the damp seam, right where you were already pulsing for him. “Or did I get you this wet just now?”

You swallowed hard. Your head hit the back of the seat.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t wait to taste you this summer”

You squeezed your legs shut instinctively, but he just pushed his hand between them, forcing them apart again. His fingers slid beneath the fabric, hot and greedy and slow, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. His middle finger circled your clit, gentle but focused, rhythm cruelly steady. Your hips twitched. You tried to keep your face blank, heart racing as Ni-ki kept talking about girlfriend drama and god knows what else. Jake leaned back in the seat like nothing was happening, laughing and his friend’s jokes, keeping the conversation, like he wasn’t making your thighs shake under the cover of your dress.

And all you could do was clutch the edge of your seat and pray your breathing didn’t give you away.

“Hey, Y/N” Ni-ki said. “You think your parents will let us throw the pool party this year?”

You could barely hear him, you couldn’t even answer. So you just hummed, but it came out more like a moan, and Jake chuckled besides you because he had two fingers inside you now, slow and shallow, more teasing than satisfying.Every twist of his hand dragged against your sweet spot and pulled a silent scream from your throat.

His lips brushed your ear again.

“You’re so tight, baby. You miss me?” he asked like he wasn’t knuckle-deep inside you, like this was all small talk.

You nodded once, shaky and pathetic, and he smiled.

Ni-ki pulled up in front of your parent’s place, headlights sweeping over the front porch.

“You want us to walk you up?” he offered, turning in his seat.

You jolted, heart hammering.

Jake’s fingers slipped out of you just in time, slow and slick, leaving your panties soaked. He brought his hand to his mouth casually, like he was stretching, and sucked the tips of his fingers clean while staring you dead in the eyes.

“Nah,” Jake said smoothly, voice casual. “She’s good.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for the ride, Ki.”

But you weren’t. You were literally shaking.

You stepped out of the car on trembling legs, your thighs wet, your panties ruined, and Jake’s grin burned into your memory.

Your parent’s didn’t allow you to host the pool party this year, since the damages of last summer were still ghosting in the house. So Sunoo, being the good friend that he was, offered his pool.

The party was already in full swing by the time you showed up, loud music, wet footprints all over the tile, floats bobbing in the pool, and a cooler full of drinks that had long since lost their ice. The heat was sweltering. The sky was cloudless. And everything felt like it was pulsing with that hazy energy.

You found your friends by the pool, and smiled at them. You slipped off your sandals, dropped your towel on a sun chair, and waded straight into the pool, cool water wrapping around your body like a sigh.

Jake was there too.

He was across the pool, shirtless in red swim trunks, tan skin glistening wet, a beer bottle tipped to his lips as he leaned back against the edge with that lazy, devastating smirk. His hair was damp, curls pushed back, and he had that look in his eye. The one he only wore when you were in the room.

You hadn’t spoken since the night in the truck. Just a few glances, a look across the lake. He was busy this summer too, you knew that, his father needed help in his job, so you weren’t seeing him that often. But you still felt him every second since.

And now, he was watching you float through the water like he already had you pressed up against the pool wall, hand between your thighs, making you come so hard you’d choke on his name.

You kept your face blank, kept swimming. But your heart was going wild.

Everyone else was drunk and loud. Sunghoon was doing cannonballs, Jungwon was begging someone to make more margaritas, Ni-ki was DJing from the patio like his life depended on it, but your whole world narrowed every time Jake’s eyes dragged over your chest, your stomach, the way your bikini clung to your hips.

At one point, you reached for your drink from the edge and felt his presence behind you before you even heard his voice.

“You trying to kill me in that bikini?” Jake murmured, chest brushing your back in the water. His voice was low and close, mouth inches from your shoulder. “Or is this just for attention?”

You didn’t turn around.

“We both know i don’t need to ask for your attention.”

He chuckled, dark and quiet.

“You know i love when you get cocky.”

You don’t even remember who touched who first.

One second, Jake was behind you in the pool, his breath grazing your neck like a threat, and the next, your fingers brushed his underwate, just enough to say now. You didn’t look back, it wasn’t necessary because he followed.

You climbed out slowly, water cascading down your legs, your bikini clinging to your curves like a secret. Jake was only a step behind, eyes locked on the drip of water trailing down your spine. No one noticed, or maybe they did and didn’t care. This was how it always happened. One second, you were mingling, the next, you were gone.

Inside the house, the music got muffled by walls and closed doors. You walked past the kitchen, past the hallway, past the laundry room, and Jake’s hand caught yours. Pulled and turned. He shoved open the bathroom door and you stumbled inside, your back hitting the wall, cold tile kissing wet skin.

Then, his mouth was on yours.

He tasted like alcohol and fresh fruit and he kissed you like a man unhinged. His hot mouth devouring you, breathless and not giving but taking. Tongue deep, wet and sloppy, teeth sharp, pulling your lower lip and sucking it, no space between you. The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was months of repression, of thinking about this exact moment, of remembering how tight you were around him, how loud you got when he hit just the right spot.

Your back hit the wall with a thud, and his hands were everywhere, palming your ass through your bikini bottoms, gripping your waist hard enough to bruise, sliding up your spine to twist in your wet hair and tug your head back, like he was scared you’d disappear again. You felt his hard length beneath the damp fabric of his shorts, grinding into you like he couldn’t hold himself back.

Jake pulled back just long enough to look at you.

“You look fucking unreal right now,” he breathed, eyes blown. “I’ve been losing my mind all fucking year thinking about this pussy.”

His voice was hot and low and filthy, his hand sliding down your stomach, slipping under your soaked bikini bottoms without hesitation.

“You missed me?” he murmured, middle finger dragging through your slit. “Huh, baby? You missed this cock?”

You moaned, too breathless to lie. Head spinning, eyes hazy and brain already shut down.

He grinned like he already knew.

“Of course you did. This pussy was made for me.”

He shoved your bottoms down, let them fall wet to the floor. Then, he dropped to his knees like it was instinct. You barely had time to breathe before his mouth was on you. Tongue hot, fast, messy and desperate. Jake moaned into your cunt like he’d been starving all year. You moaned into your hand and let your head fall against the wall as his tongue licked a wide, greedy stripe up your slit, then circled your clit, sloppy, shameless and relentless. His fingers dug into your thighs in case you’d pull away and he ate you out like this was his last meal.

“God,” he groaned, voice muffled against your heat. “always so fucking sweet.”

You rocked your hips forward into his face, already breathless from how deep he was buried between your thighs. Your pussy dripping on him, pulsing and hot. His hair was damp from the pool, and now from sweat, his working like he was worshiping you.

Your fingers laced through his curls, pulling.

“Jake—oh my God.”

He didn’t stop. Just growled into you and pulled you closer, spreading you wider, tongue fucking into you as if he couldn’t decide whether to tease or devour. Then, his thumb slid up, wet from your slick, pressing soft tight circles against your clit as his tongue fucked in deeper.

You gasped, back arching.

“Jake, please—”

“You gonna come on my mouth?” he asked, almost sweetly. “You gonna make a mess on my face, baby?”

He was smiling against your sex, completely obsessed, like your shaking thighs and broken voice were exactly what he wanted to ruin. Like he wouldn’t be satisfied until you fell apart right here in the bathroom with his tongue buried inside you and your moans echoing off the tile.

You whimpered, trying to hold yourself up, but your knees were already buckling.

“Please, Jake—don’t stop—”

“Oh, I won’t,” he muttered against your clit, voice low and wrecked. “Not until you’re dripping down my chin.”

Then he sucked again. Hard, wet and loud. Totally obscene and shameless, his tongue flicking fast, his thumb grinding into your clit in tight circles, dragging your orgasm out of you like he was starving for it. You gasped, hips jolting forward as heat crashed through your spine and exploded in your belly.

Jake groaned into you, tongue lapping up every bit of your mess like it was his job. His arms locked around your thighs, holding you in place, making sure you felt every second of it, felt how messy you were, how wrecked, how much he loved it.

You came hard.

Your thighs clamped around his head, your toes curled, your hands scrabbling for the sink behind you as pleasure split you in half, hot and dizzying. Your whole body trembled, mouth falling open in a silent cry as your pussy pulsed around nothing, empty but aching, soaking his mouth and chin.

Jake only pulled back when your legs gave out.

He caught you, barely, arms around your waist, eyes heavy and glazed as he looked up at you, his face glistening with your slick, lips red and shiny, hair messy from your hands in it.

“So fucking good” he said, voice ruined.

Then he kissed you again, messy, open, licking into your mouth like he wanted you to taste yourself on him. In one movement, he shoved down his trunks and grabbed your thigh, hiking it up against the wall.

“You ready?” he said, lining himself up and thrusting in all at once, bottoming out. You gasped. “Gonna fuck you just how you like it.”

He was thick and deep and so fucking hard, stretching you open like your body had been waiting for him all year. His length throbbed through your soaked walls, still senstive but still wanting more. You cried out, back arching as Jake buried himself to the hilt, brutal thrusts that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, voice low and ruined in your ear. “You’re so tight around me. Like this pussy’s been waiting all year, just for my cock.”

You clenched around him at the words, helpless, already overwhelmed. Your nails dug into his biceps as he held you pinned between his chest and the cold edge of the bathroom counter, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread wide open. He moved deep, dragging strokes that made you choke on your breath. His cock hit that spot inside you perfectly, rubbing against your slick, sensitive walls, making you tremble with every push.

Your head fell back, lips parted, completely at his mercy.

“God—fuck, I missed this,” he groaned, hips snapping faster. “Missed how you squeeze me. Missed these pretty fucking sounds. You make me insane.”

He grabbed your hips, slamming you down onto him harder, faster, skin slapping against skin as the bathroom filled with the sounds of filthy, frantic sex, wet, breathless, obsessed. The air inside was so hot, the mirror foggy, your body wet not only with water but with sweat and spit, every inch inside of you burning for him.

You wrapped your legs around him, holding on tight, body jerking with every thrust.

“Jake—oh my god—yes—fuck me, please—”

“I am, baby,” he growled, pounding into you. “Fucking you like you need.”

He kissed you, teeth and tongue and bruising need, before pulling back to spit the next words right against your mouth:

“That’s right. This pussy’s mine when you’re here. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin.”

A loud groan left his mouth, losing rhythm for a second, driving into you harder now, ruthless, like he wanted to fuck you so deep you’d still feel him tomorrow, his thrusts pounding into your soaked pussy, his body smacking against yours in loud, wet sounds that echoed off the walls. You moaned loud at that, barely holding back from coming again.

“I’m gonna fuck you all summer,” he hissed in your ear, fucking you harder. “Every night. Every morning. You understand?”

His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen, aching clit, rubbing tight circles that helped the pressure on your stomach start to build with so much force.

“You wanna cry on my cock again like you did last year?” he taunted, thumb dragging up to your clit as he pounded into you harder. “Huh? Gonna make a mess for me like a good fucking girl?”

Your body didn’t hold back anymore. You came again, gasping, clenching around him so tight he cursed into your neck, hips jerking as he came with you with a thick moan, hot, deep, full. He spilled inside you so familiar and warm and good, and you whimpered at the feeling. God, you missed it so much.

You collapsed into him, slick and shaking, still pinned to the wall as he caught his breath, mouth dragging across your collarbone like he couldn’t stop touching you.

“God,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “I’m not letting you go a single night without this dick.”

Jake then pulled out slowly, the loss making you whimper again, and his eyes lost between your legs watching how you dripped him down your thighs, he bit his lip at the view. Then kissed you again, fast but hot, helping you put on your bikini bottoms again, still a bit dazed from the strong orgasm.

“You never do, anyways.”

He chuckled softly, putting his shorts on and hissing at the sensitivity on his cock, then placed a kiss on your forehead, winking an eye.

“Summer’s just getting started, baby.”

The days passed with not much happening. Parties, nights by the lake, fishing, movie nights in someone’s old basement. Almost every night ending the same way, everyone either passed out or going home.

Except you.

And Jake.

It always started with a look. That same look. Then a brush of his hand at your hip while you were helping clean up. Then a muttered, “Come with me,” while the others weren’t looking.

And ended with the two of you tangled in the backseat of his father’s car, windows halfway fogged, leather seats squeaking under the shift of your weight. You straddling him, panties shoved to the side, Jake’s hands gripping your waist tight as you rocked your soaked pussy over the thick, heavy length of his cock. Him fully inside you, buried deep, sweat dripping from his hairline as he hissed through his teeth. The night quiet except for the sound of your skins slapping together.

“Fuck, baby—” his voice was hoarse, raw. “You feel so fucking good. Always so tight for me.”

His nasty words always making you come even harder around his length.

“I’ve been thinking about this since you left,” he whispered, grabbing your ass and helping you move faster, harder. “Jacking off in my room like a fucking loser, imagining you bouncing on my cock just like this. Every fucking night.”

“Every summer,” he whispered. “You’ll always be mine.”

Other times were lazy sundays in his room, after a wild night, makeup still on your face, mascara smuged, but he always told you you looked beautiful that way. The sheets clinging to your bodies thanks to the sweat and the heat, Jake leaning his back against the bedframe, legs parted and you between them.

Still lazy, but hungry.

His cock already hard. Thick, flushed, glistening at the tip like it had been waiting for your mouth since the second he pulled you into the house.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed when you kissed the head, feeling him throb in your hand “You trying to ruin me, baby?”

You smiled, slow and wicked, as you licked a fat stripe up his shaft.

“I thought I already did.”

Jake’s head dropped back against the pillow, his hips twitching when you spat on his length, tongue swirled around the tip again, tasting the salty precum. You took your time, pressing kisses all over, teasing him, dragging your mouth down to his balls, licking and sucking until he was breathing through clenched teeth, abs tensing with every shift of your tongue.

“Shit—fuck” he gasped when you finally wrapped your lips around the head and sank down.

You moaned around him in response, and Jake swore, one hand flying into your hair.

“God, baby—your mouth is so fucking perfect.”

You bobbed your head slow, letting your tongue slide along the underside of his cock, eyes locked on his face the whole time. You loved watching him fall apart, how his brows pulled together, how his lips parted in these breathless, broken moans. His whole body went tight under you, muscles flexing, thighs trembling with every stroke.

“You’re gonna make me come already,” he panted, voice shaking. “You’re so fuckin’ nasty, just—shit—look at you.”

You pulled off with a wet pop, breath hot against his cock.

“Then come,” you whispered, stroking him slow, tongue flicking at the tip. “I want it. In my mouth. On my face. Wherever the fuck you want.”

Jake groaned.

“God, I almost forgot how filthy you are,” he muttered, hips lifting, fucking into your fist as your lips wrapped around him again.

But when you both were drunk, it was even more messy.

Laughing too loud, bumping into the hallway walls on the way upstairs, hands already all over each other before the door even closed.

Jake’s breath hot in your ear, mouth on your neck, his fingers tangled in the hem of your dress as you shoved at his chest, stumbling backwards into the room.

“I fucking want you,” he slurred, lips grazing your jaw, voice ragged. “I want you so bad it’s fucking sick.”

“You always want me,” you whispered, giggling breathlessly as he kicked the door shut and you both tripped into the mattress like lunatics. “You’re obsessed with me.”

He grabbed your wrists and pinned you down into the bed, kissing you hard, messy, open-mouthed, teeth clashing, tongues tangling.

“I am obsessed with you,” he muttered against your mouth. “I think about you all year. Think about your moans, your thighs, your fucking cunt—”

“Jake—”

“I jerk off to the sound of your voice,” he hissed, already yanking your dress up over your hips. “To the memory of you riding me. You fuckin’ haunt me.”

You gasped when he tugged your panties down fast and rough, mouth hot on your throat. He didn’t even wait to undress himself properly, just unzipped, shoved his pants low, pushed your legs open and spat on your pussy like he couldn’t take it one second longer.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned. “Fuck, baby—this pussy missed me, didn’t it?”

He shoved into you in one brutal thrust, no teasing, no warning, just full length, all of him, thick and throbbing, slamming into your soaked heat like he was making up for lost time. And you screamed, legs wrapping around him as he rutted into you without rhythm, just hunger and need.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he panted. “You feel fucking insane. I’m gonna lose my fucking mind—”

His hands were under your ass, lifting you into every thrust, bed creaking under the pressure. His forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged, sweat dripping down his temple.

“I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” he whispered. “Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own fucking name.”

“You already do,” you moaned, nails dragging down his back.

Jake slammed deeper, taking every inch of your insides, pussy walls clenching around himc swallowing him like you were made for him, the room spinning not just from the alcohol but from the heat.

“You want it rough tonight, huh? Want me drunk and desperate, just using this pretty pussy ‘til I can’t even move?”

“Yes—fuck”

“You’re mine,” he spat, gripping your face, thumb sliding into your mouth. “Say it.”

“I’m yours—” you whined around his thumb, eyes rolling back.

He cursed, pulled out halfway, then slammed in again so hard you gasped.

“Say it louder.”

“I’m fucking yours!”

The air was thick with sweat, your bodies slick and tangled, the whole room smelling like sex and tequila and the kind of hunger you don’t come back from.

It was routine, it was habit. It was everything you could ask for. Because Jake didn’t just fuck you, he worshipped your body. Every thrust said mine. Every kiss felt dangerous. Every time he came inside you, it felt less like sex and more like surrender. He knew you so well, knew exactly what to say, where to touch, which speed to use. No other man had ever satisfied you the way he did.

And lately, he looked at you like you were a secret. Like you meant something. His touches were softer, his kisses more tender. He laid on your back and trailed his fingetips in slow circles and hummed songs in your ear.

But it scared you. You knew things with Jake wouldn’t be easy. He lived here, he belonged here, away, moving through calm days and quiet nights. You were different.

You were a city girl, you went to college, went to parties, woke up hangover on your friend’s penthouses.

It would never work. And never seeing him again, that really scared you.

So you kept your feelings tucked behind your tongue, hidden in the back of your throat behind every moan. You kissed him hard and pulled his hair and begged for more, but you never said please don’t fall for me.

Because sometimes, you thought maybe he already had.

And sometimes you thought maybe you had too.

Those thoughts were still consuming you days later, one morning in Jake’s bed.

You could hear the birds outside. The fan humming above. His slow, steady breath against your collarbone. Jake was still tangled around you, warm and heavy, like he’d melted into your skin overnight. His leg between yours. His arm around your waist. His hand—God, his hand—resting just under your breast, like it belonged there.

You wanted to stay there forever. In that golden, sleepy silence. Where nothing had to be said. Where everything could still be just sex and tequila and tradition. Where the feelings hadn’t spilled out yet.

But then he spoke.

“I don’t think I can do this again another year,” he said softly, voice hoarse with sleep.

You blinked slowly. Your body stiffened, but only just.

“What?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“This. Us. Fucking for a month and then going back to acting like we don’t know each other the rest of the year.”

You lifted your head, your heart already thudding in your chest. Jake was looking at you. Hair messy, lips still kiss-bitten, eyes swollen with everything he hadn’t said until now.

“I know we said this was casual,” he continued. “I know that’s what you want. But it’s not casual for me anymore.”

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

“I don’t want to wait eleven months to touch you again. I don’t want to only be yours in July. I want to wake up like this every day. I want to know what it feels like to take you out, not just sneak around.”

“Jake…”

“I want to know what it feels like to love you without pretending it’s just about sex.”

That word.

Love.

You sat up, pulling the sheet to your chest even though he’d seen every inch of you a thousand times. Even though he had your come drying on his stomach, your moans still in his mouth.

“Don’t say that, Jake” you said, voice suddenly cold.

“Why not?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Because this wasn’t supposed to be that. That’s not what we do.”

Jake sat up too, confused, bare chest rising and falling as he tried to read your face.

“You can say everything to me when my cock’s inside you,” he said, eyes narrowing. “But the second I say I want more, you run?”

“I’m not running.”

“Yes, you are. You’ve been running since last summer. And the one before that.”

You stood from the bed, searching for your underwear like it was some kind of armor. The same scary thoughts in your head, the reality of it all hitting you.

“It’s not going to work, Jake. I told you since the beggining”

“No, you told me you didn’t want more.” He leaned forward, voice tighter now. “And I believed you. Until you started kissing me like I was the only thing keeping you breathing. Until you started holding me after like it meant something.”

You paused. Still facing the wall. Too afraid to look back.

“It’s safer this way,” you said quietly.

He laughed, bitter and humourless.

“Safer for you, maybe. But I’m the one who’s been waiting all year like a fucking idiot, hoping this time would be different.”

You turned to him finally, heart in your throat.

“I never asked you to wait.”

“No,” he said. “But you made it impossible not to.”

There was silence for a moment. And then Jake stood too. Naked, wrecked, still beautiful in the morning light. His eyes softer now. But sad. So fucking sad.

“I would’ve given you everything,” he said. “I still would.”

You didn’t answer.

You just grabbed your dress, your phone, and walked out of the room with tears in your eyes and his name like a stone in your throat.

The city felt bigger than usual.

You stood in the middle of your room in a t-shirt that wasn’t yours—his, oversized and worn-in, somehow ended up in your suitcase, probably from the night you threw up in his lap—sleeves pushed up to your elbows. It smelled faintly of saltwater and sweat and the faded remnants of Jake’s cologne, like a scent memory you were scared would disappear the second you washed it.

Your suitcase was still half-open on the floor. You hadn’t unpacked.

Outside, the city roared like it always did, sirens in the distance, someone yelling two blocks away, a motorcycle growling past, but all you could think about was the way the crickets used to sing by the lake. How the air back there tasted like bonfire and beer and warm skin. How the quiet meant something when it was wrapped around Jake’s voice and his breath on your neck in the dark.

You padded barefoot to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water with shaking hands, but your stomach felt like it was folding in on itself.

Everything was fine.

But then you opened your phone.

And scrolled.

And there he was.

Jake, half-naked on the dock, laughing with Ni-ki, holding a beer, dripping wet from the lake. Jake, driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on your bare thigh, sunglasses low on his nose, smirking like he owned the world. Jake, leaning over you in the backseat after Sunoo’s pool party, whispering filth into your mouth while everyone else was drunk and distracted.

Your heart twisted, sharp and slow and sick.

You hadn’t seen him since that morning. Since you ripped yourself out of his sheets and out of his arms and walked away with your pride held like a shield across your chest.

He didn’t come to Sunghoon’s goodbye party, he didn’t come to the last movie night in Jungwon’s basement.

He didn’t text. He didn’t call. He didn’t even look at your story.

And you didn’t reach out.

And now, in the dim hush of your apartment, with the AC buzzing and your body wrapped in his old shirt, the weight of it crushed you.

You slid to the floor, back against the bedframe, phone in your lap, eyes burning.

Because you wanted to be the girl who could let go. The girl who could take the pleasure, take the heat, take the memory, and walk away untouched.

But this time you weren’t her.

This time, you wanted more.

You wanted mornings. You wanted winter. You wanted him.

But you were too scared to say it.

So now you sat in the silence you chose, surrounded by his ghost, with nothing left but a hundred memories that all smelled like sex and regret.

You hadn’t turned on the lights, letting the soft blue glow of the television flicker across the room, even though you weren’t really watching anything. Just letting sound fill the silence.

And then… A knock.

You blinked. Stilled. For a second, you thought maybe you imagined it.

Then it came again.

Three gentle raps against your apartment door.

Your heart flipped. Your chest tightened. You stood slowly, like moving too fast would make it disappear. And when you opened the door…

Jake was there.

In the hallway, under the soft yellow glow of the broken light overhead, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, eyes rimmed with exhaustion and something worse, like maybe he hadn’t slept in days. Like maybe he’d replayed that morning in his head a hundred times, and it still broke him every time.

“Hi,” he said softly.

You stopped breathing.

He looked… wrecked.

And beautiful. Standing in front of you like he had no idea what he was supposed to say now that he’d actually come.

“I didn’t know if you’d open the door,” he admitted, voice quiet.

You swallowed, gripping the edge of the door like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I almost didn’t.”

Jake let out a soft breath. Nodded. Then looked up at you, eyes shining a little too much.

“I had to see you, i booked the cheapest ticket” he said. “I couldn’t just let it end like that.”

You said nothing. Just looked at him, bare, faced and trembling, still holding the doorknob like it was a weapon.

He took a tiny step forward.

“I fucked up. I should’ve let you have your space. I should’ve waited. But I couldn’t. I’ve been losing my fucking mind thinking about you.”

“Jake…”

“No,” he said gently. “Let me say it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice thick now. Full with honesty and feelings.

“I meant everything I said. I meant it when I told you I wanted more. I meant it when I said I couldn’t keep doing this once-a-year bullshit. Because it’s not just summer to me anymore. It’s not just sex. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Your chest ached. He looked straight at you, no shields, no teasing smile, just a boy standing at the edge of something terrifying, begging you to take a step toward him.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, barely a whisper. “I think I’ve been in love with you my whole life, since the first time i fucked you. And I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

You blinked fast, heart beating so loud it hurt.

“I didn’t know how to… I thought if I said it out loud it would ruin everything.”

He nodded.

“So did I.”

“But it didn’t,” you said, voice trembling. “It ruined everything not saying it.”

Jake gave the softest smile. Sad, but hopeful. Like he still wasn’t sure if you were going to slam the door or fall into his arms.

So you reached for him. You grabbed the front of his hoodie, pulled him inside, shut the door behind him. And when your mouth crashed into his, hot, desperate, full of all the things you hadn’t said, Jake knew.

You were his.

Not just in summer or just in bed.

Just completely his.

[rynwrites4fun]

Across The Hall (9) | Michael Robinavitch x Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Michael Robinavitch x F ! Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Summary: You and Michael now live parallel lives—close in distance but distant as strangers. After a school field trip to the zoo, you get injured and are rushed to the Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center, straight to Michaels ER.

Word: 4971

Warnings: Age Gap (Mid 20s/Early 50s), Head Injury (Factured Skull), Bleeding from the ear, and Vomiting

Authors Note: Hello! Thank you for all the love on the last part. Lol I love seeing your guys comments and reactions. They crack me upppp. Couple more parts and this fic with come to a end🥲. Depending on season 2 maybe I'll write a spin off/Continuation of some sort 🤨??? or maybe I'll leave a good thing be. Idk this is all up in the air and just ideas. If I did continue it won't be until next year YIKES. Long way from now. But if you guys want it i'll prob do it lol very much a people pleaser 😭 also determined to finsihed eyes on me lol okay anyway. enjoy!!! - ryn

3 Months Later

Since that day—that morning where it ended—you and Michael had kept your distance. It wasn’t easy. Living across the hall meant you still saw each other constantly. You crossed paths in the elevator, passed in the lobby, caught glimpses through cracked doors. But it was different now. Cautious. Careful. The warmth was gone.

It was like reverting back to how things were in the beginning—only worse. Not acquaintances. Less than that. Strangers.

There were no more lingering glances, no more easy conversations or shared errands. No more moments where he helped you without being asked, like he just knew. Now it was all stiff nods and the occasional muttered “hey” or “hi,” as if everything between never happened or existed.

Your lives—once a single, tangled line—had split. Still running close, still crossing the same thresholds, but no longer connected. Now they moved in parallel. Close enough to feel, never close enough to touch.

You missed him. Not just being around him—but him. The version only you knew. The one who stayed late, who looked out for you, who let his guard down when it was just the two of you.

Now, it was like he barely looked your way. Just quick hellos, if that. And even those felt heavy.

Still, every time you saw him, you wondered if he missed you too.

And maybe—just maybe—you knew he missed you too.

But neither of you said a word.

Michael had been the first person to remind you what it felt like to be truly cared for. Losing that connection hurt deeply. But even without him, you were learning how to stand on your own. You are in a better place

After years stuck in a toxic, neglectful relationship with Aiden, you finally chose yourself. No more waiting to be seen or heard. You were rebuilding, piece by piece—stronger, quieter, more certain.

It was something Michael said the last time you saw him that stayed with you. His voice was calm but firm: “You need to figure yourself out. Really figure it out. What you want, what you feel… why you push people away when they treat you the way you deserve. Because if you don’t, you’re just going to keep hurting the people who care about you.”

Those words gave you the push you needed to walk away.

After breaking up with Aiden, the silence was deafening at first. No shouting, no blame, no empty promises—just quiet. And for once, that quiet felt like space you could breathe in, not suffocate.

You weren’t completely free yet. There were days when memories clawed at you, when loneliness crept in like a shadow. But with each morning you woke up without him, you felt a little stronger. A little more whole.

And Michael? Seeing him after everything—it wasn’t easy. There was a tension, a distance between you that hadn’t been there before. You still felt guilty for how things ended with him. But beneath it all, you knew one thing: his words had helped you find yourself again. Even if your connection had changed, that truth remained.

—

This morning, you had left your apartments at the same time, walking side by side in silence. No words. No eye contact. Just the sound of your footsteps echoing down the hallway—too close, too quiet.

He let you step into the elevator first, then slipped into his usual corner—like always. The space between you felt heavier than it should’ve in such a small box.

And every time you rode the elevator with him now, your mind drifted back to that morning. The one where everything shifted. The one where he had looked at you like he couldn’t wait another second. Where his hands trembled on your skin and nothing else existed. That morning where—for a moment—you both stopped pretending.

Now, you only pretended. Pretended not to miss it. Pretended not to look at him out of the corner of your eye. Pretended he wasn’t right there, close enough to touch, but choosing not to.

Then, suddenly—you don’t know why—you turned your head and glanced at him over your shoulder.

“Good morning,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a small, uncertain smile on your lips.

Michael stood there, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, AirPods in. He didn’t respond. Didn’t nod. Normally, he’d say hello—or at least acknowledge you—but today wasn’t one of those days.

Maybe he hadn’t heard you.

But he had.

Because the truth was, he missed you. Every time he saw you, felt your presence so close yet unreachable, it tore at something inside him.

But talking—to break the silence—meant opening a door he wasn’t sure he could close. It meant risking everything he’d been trying to hold together.

The silence in that elevator was suffocating.

The doors slid open.

You stepped out first, heart pounding, words caught in your throat. By the time the two of you made it through the lobby and out to the street, you found yourself saying, “Have a good day.”

Still, he ignored you.

Without a word, he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

—--

It had been a good day.

There was a field trip to the Philadelphia Zoo, and the fifth graders had been buzzing with excitement since they got off the bus. They darted from exhibit to exhibit in loose clusters, calling out animal facts they half-remembered from class, pointing at the gorillas, giggling at the flamingos, and dramatically gagging when they passed smelly enclosures. 

You smiled through the chaos, constantly scanning the crowd, reminding them to walk—not run—while answering a steady stream of “Can we go there next?” and “Do we have to stay with our buddy?”

By the time the group began gathering near the exit to prepare for departure, the kids were hot, tired, and still somehow full of energy—trading animal facts, snacks, and complaints about the long walk back to the bus.

You turned to check on one of your students—and your foot caught on a backpack left sprawled across the pavement.

You didn’t even have time to brace yourself.

You went down hard.

Your head hit the ground with a sickening crack.

Everything went black for a moment.

You passed out for a few minutes before slowly waking up. When your eyes opened, your other 5th grade teachers and your students gathered around you, worried. 

A sharp pain pulsed through your head. When you touched the side of your face, your fingers came away wet—your ear was bleeding.

You tried to sit up, but your body felt heavy and unsteady. Panic flickered in your chest.

“Are you okay, Miss?” a student asked, voice trembling.

You forced a small, shaky smile. “I’ll be okay,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure.

One of the teachers noticed the blood coming from your ear when you touched it. They knew something was wrong—you needed to get to the hospital.

You tried to protest, insisting you were fine, but the other teachers wouldn’t hear it. Their concern was firm—they knew you needed medical attention. They called an ambulance, and took care of your kids as you headed to the hospital.

“Okay, we’re headed to PTMC,” the driver said to his partner in the back with you.

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. No. You didn’t want to go there. Michael worked there.

“What? N-no, can’t you take me to Allegheny?” you asked, your voice shaking as you glanced up at the paramedic trying to stem the bleeding from your ear.

“Miss, PTMC is closer. Allegheny is too far,” the paramedic replied, his tone calm but unyielding.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you hard. Before you could stop it, you threw up—your body reacting to the pain and shock.

The paramedics quickly handed you a bag, their expressions gentle but focused. Your head throbbed fiercely, and the thought of seeing Michael at PTMC made the room feel even more overwhelming.

You swallowed hard, gripping the stretcher tightly as the ambulance doors shut and the vehicle started moving. Outside, the world blurred past the windows, but inside, your mind spun with pain, fear, and an ache far deeper than the injury itself.

—-

It was busy in the ER today—loud, chaotic, the usual blur of motion and noise. Monitors beeped steadily in the background, gurneys rolled down hallways, voices called out orders and vitals in clipped tones. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mixing with the sharper tang of adrenaline and urgency.

Michael worked hard and efficiently, his hands steady and his voice calm as he checked charts, issued instructions, and answered questions. Every task was precise and practiced. But despite his focused exterior, his heart wasn’t fully in it today. Beneath the surface, his mind drifted elsewhere.

For some reason, you were heavy on his mind—ever since he saw you that morning in the elevator. Though he went about his work with his usual efficiency, every time he glanced up or caught a quiet moment, his thoughts slipped back to you. That brief encounter stirred something beneath his calm exterior, making it harder than usual to focus.

Even as he moved through the chaos of the ER, you lingered in the corners of his mind—a quiet weight he couldn’t shake. Each task felt automatic, mechanical, like he was running on autopilot 

At the nurses’ station, Dana glanced toward Michael as he passed by, pausing briefly. His eyes scanned the triage monitor for a moment before he continued on his rounds.

“What’s his vibe today?” Dana asked, peering over the top of her glasses as she flipped through a stack of charts.

Jack didn’t look up from the computer. “Full-on rain cloud.”

Dana let out a quiet laugh. “That bad?”

Jack finally glanced up. “Yeah. Barely talking. Just doing his rounds like a ghost.”

Dana frowned slightly. She hadn’t had a real catch-up with Robby in a while.

“I don’t think I’ve heard him say anything beyond patient loads and charts in weeks,” she murmured.

Jack leaned back in his chair. “Yeah. He’s been keeping things tight. You can tell he’s holding something in… and it’s not just stress.”

Dana sighed, looking up from the computer. “It’s been—what? Three months since they stopped talking?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, watching Michael enter an exam room. “He’s doing okay. Better than a few months ago, for sure. But I think today’s one of those days where he’s really missing her.”

Jack added quietly, “It’s hard to tell with him sometimes. He’s always been good at hiding what’s really going on.”

Dana didn’t respond right away, distracted by the faint sound of sirens growing louder in the distance.

“Looks like a bus just pulled up,” she said, glancing toward the ambulance bay.

Jack turned, following her line of sight. Through the glass doors, he spotted the rig backing in, its lights still flashing. The paramedics moved quickly, unloading a gurney from the back, getting ready to wheel someone inside.

“I got it,” he said, already moving toward the doors.

“Alright, what do we got?” 

Jack reached the stretcher as the paramedic began briefing him. 

“Mid-20s female, teacher on a zoo field trip. She tripped over a backpack and hit her head on the pavement. She lost consciousness briefly after the fall. There’s blood coming from her ear. She vomited on the way here and reported dizziness and nausea and is currently somewhat disoriented.”

“Exam Room 13’s open!” Dana called out as she overheard part of the paramedics’ briefing.

The gurney rolled past the nurses’ station in a blur of motion—wheels rattling, footsteps fast. Dana glanced up from her charts and files to get a quick look at the incoming patient… and froze.

Her eyes widened, recognition flickering across her face as she stood up straighter, instinctively stepping out onto the floor. Her heart skipped. Her eyes narrowed, trying to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

It was you.

You looked pale, out of it—a plastic bag clutched in your hand, vomit on your shirt, and a smear of dried blood trailing from your ear. But it was unmistakably you.

The same woman she’d seen, playing around with Michael in aisle 9 of the grocery store fighting over cookies. 

Jack was already directing the paramedics to Exam Room 13, calling for trauma supplies as he moved alongside the gurney.

Dana stood abruptly, eyes darting around the ER. Looking for Michael.

Shit. Where’s Robby? Which wing did he go? She thought.

“Jack!” she called, rushing after him. She fell into step beside him as they wheeled you. 

“What?” he asked, not slowing.

“It’s her!” she hissed, voice low but urgent.

“Who?”

“The friend-neighbor-almost-something-—her,” Dana said, eyes wide. “Robby’s girl.”

Dana watched as Jack’s head whipped to face her. His expression shifts—from confusion to clarity, then to something dangerously close to dread.

Jack stopped short, turning just in time to see the gurney disappear into Exam Room 13. His expression changed instantly.

He looks at Dana again “That was her? Are you sure?” 

“Yes!”

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

“What do we do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jack didn’t hesitate. “We need to tell him.”

Dana’s brows knit. “Are you sure? After everything�� you know how torn up he was…well still is” she trailed off, uncertain. “I mean, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes,” Jack said firmly. “He still cares about her, still feels things for her. You know he does.”

Dana hesitated, lips pressed into a line.

“He’s not over her, Dana. Not even close. No matter how messy the fallout was, he’d want to know. And if he finds out she was here and we kept it from him…”

“He’d never forgive us,” Dana finished, already nodding.

Jack’s jaw was tight. “Exactly.”

“Look I’ll take care of her, find him as soon as you can and tell him. Okay?” 

“Alright” they quickly went off in different directions. 

—

The harsh fluorescent lights overhead felt like too much—too bright, too sharp—cutting through the fog in your skull. Your stomach churned again, sour and unsettled. You’d already thrown up in the ambulance, the evidence smeared across your shirt, and the nausea still clung to you, heavy and unrelenting. It was like your body couldn’t decide if it was in pain or panic.

The nurse—Princess, according to her badge—helped you onto the exam table from the gurney, guiding you gently as you sat down.

“Let’s get you settled,” she said calmly.

You nodded, though the movement made your head throb and your stomach turn.

Princess moved with calm precision, wrapping a cuff around your arm to check your blood pressure and attaching monitors to track your vitals. She was already prepping the IV, her hands steady, practiced.

“Pressure’s a little low,” she murmured, mostly to herself, then offered you a small, reassuring smile.

You closed your eyes as the needle slid into your arm, trying to focus on her calm voice instead of the pounding in your head.

She grabbed a damp cloth and gently began wiping the vomit from your shirt, doing the best she could to clean you up while keeping you comfortable.

“You’re doing okay,” she said softly. “Just stay with me.”

Princess noticed the shift in your expression—the way your face paled. Without a word, she grabbed a plastic basin and placed it gently in your lap.

“Just in case,” she said softly.

A moment later, the door opened and a man stepped in, wearing navy scrubs and a calm, focused expression.

“I’m Dr. Jack Abbot,” he said as he approached. “I’ll be taking care of you today.”

Jack

The name stood out. Michael’s friend—he’d mentioned him a couple of times. Quick stories, casual references. You never met him, but the name stuck.

Now here he was, standing in front of you. And suddenly, it all felt just a little more real.

To Jack, you were more than just another patient. You were her—the neighbor, the teacher, the one Michael couldn’t stop thinking about. The one who shattered him.

He was torn. Part of him wanted to resent you. Another part couldn’t help but feel sorry—for both you and Michael. It hurt watching Michael suffer in silence, burying his feelings under layers of composure. But there was sadness for you too—because Jack knew you were still clinging to something broken. A relationship that should’ve ended long ago.

But none of that mattered now. He needed to take care of you—not only because it was his job, but for Michael. 

You and Jack locked eyes. Neither of you spoke, but something passed between you—an unspoken recognition. You both knew each other through Michael, even if you’d never met before. And in that silence, there was a quiet acknowledgment of everything that wasn’t being said.

“Let’s get you checked out,” he said gently.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He pulled on a pair of gloves and waited patiently as you gathered your thoughts.

“I tripped over a student’s backpack. I fell… hit my head on the side,” you said, your voice a little shaky.

Princess, at the computer nearby, typed quickly, capturing every detail.

“You passed out? For how long?”

“I don’t know. No more than 5 minutes?”

“And you feel nauseous?” Jack takes notice of the dried blood from your ear. 

“Yes” He brought his hands up, feeling your head, and then he felt it. A squishy part on the side of your head. 

Shit. 

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he gently pressed around the swollen area, careful not to cause more pain. His mind raced—without a CT scan, he knew the injury was serious. How severe, though, remained uncertain.

“Okay, stay still for me,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We need to get a CT scan to find out exactly what we’re dealing with.” He says to the Princess, but also to you.

You nodded, swallowing hard, the dizziness and nausea pressing harder with every breath.

Princess looked up from her computer. “I’m alerting neurology and radiology now.”

Jack forced a steady breath, trying to stay composed though inside, worry tightened its grip.

Your stomach lurched, and you vomited into the plastic basin Princess had handed you earlier. Jack stepped back slightly, giving you room but keeping his eyes locked on you, watching for any sign of worsening condition.

Princess moved quickly to help, she handed you a clean towel and quietly assured you as you wiped your face.

Princess stepped over, grabbing a pair of gloves and a warm saline wipe.

You flinched as she dabbed gently at the dried blood near your ear, trying not to let it sting. 

“Sorry,” Princess murmured, careful and quiet.

Jack watched closely but because the signs were impossible to ignore. The dried blood near your ear, the squishy spot on the scalp, the nausea and dizziness—they all pointed to something serious. Possibly a skull fracture.

Until the scan came back, there wasn’t much he could confirm. But in his gut, he already knew this wasn’t minor.

He reached for a chart from the counter, flipping it open and beginning to write. His pen scratched quickly across the paper, but he kept looking up every few seconds—checking your breathing, your pallor, the way you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Princess adjusted the bed slightly, propping it up so you could sit comfortably. She hands you a new plastic basin. She takes the used wipes and throws it in the trash along with her gloves and goes to wash her hands. 

You glanced at him, searching. “Did… did Michael send you?”

Princess moved to gather the extra materials they hadn’t used, placing them neatly on the supply rack. Her movements were quiet, efficient, but her attention never strayed far. She listens closely. 

Jack shook his head. “No. Robby doesn’t know you’re here… at least not yet.”

At that, Princess froze for just a moment. She didn’t know the full story, but it was clear you and Michael were connected. Her eyes flicked to Jack, widening slightly. A silent exchange passed between them—brief, but unmistakable.

Jack sighed inwardly. He knew exactly what she was thinking—the bet she and several other staff had made a few weeks ago at the bar about Michael having a girlfriend. Now was not the time.

His eyes locked onto hers, sharp, silently warning: Don’t even think about it. He shook his head slightly.

You hadn’t noticed the exchange. Your eyes closed, feeling dizzy, your head throbbing. The words slipped out before you could stop them. “That’s the last thing I want.”

Princess gave an innocent, almost playful raise of her eyebrows, but beneath it was something calculating. She grabbed a chart out of Jack's hands and scurried out of the room, leaving a faint echo of footsteps behind her.

Jack remained still, watching her retreat. His jaw tightened, mouth pressed into a hard line. In the ER, whispers traveled faster than code blue alarms—money and rumors would be swirling in less than a few minutes. 

Jack exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief second. He’ll deal with it later he tells himslef.

Jack leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just studied you—pale, clearly worn down.

You swallowed hard, the dizziness still buzzing faintly at the edges of your mind.

“I don’t want to make things harder for him.”

“He’ll know,” Jack said quietly, his voice flat with certainty. “He’ll come rushing in here once he finds out—I guarantee it.”

“He likes you—a lot, cares for you deeply” he said, matter-of-fact, like it was the plainest truth in the world. “I’ve seen him talk about people before—patients, colleagues, even exes. But never like this.”

Your eyes flicked open. Jack wasn’t looking at you anymore.

You didn’t interrupt. His words caught you off guard—soft but heavy.

“With you… it’s different,” Jack said. “He’s not the guy who makes big declarations. But his actions? Loud as hell.”

He stepped closer, eyes searching yours—not confrontational, just honest.

“That day—after everything fell apart—he barely said a word.”

Jack’s voice dropped. “He didn’t say much. But I’ve known him long enough to read between the lines. Michael’s the silent type. Shove it down, suffer alone. That’s always been his way. He doesn’t fall easily. And he sure as hell doesn’t bounce back quickly.”

And didn’t you know it—you ruined what you two had. You looked down at your hands.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you said.

Jack finally met your eyes. There wasn’t anger—just a tired kind of clarity. “Maybe not. But it still happened.”

There was no heat in his voice. No judgment. Just the truth.

“He’ll handle it. He always does.”

He backed toward the door.

“My instinct is to tell you to continue stay away from him... keep the distance. To protect him.”

A beat.

“But even with all that… there’s a part of me that still hopes it works out between you two.”

He held your gaze.

“If there’s even a small chance you feel the same—don’t waste it.”

Then, firm again, “But don’t show up in his orbit unless you’re sure.”

“I’ll be back to get you for the CT scan. If you need anything, press the call button.”

And with that, he was gone.

—

Dana had spent the last several minutes searching—looking for Michael. The constant rush of the ER had kept her moving nonstop, priorities shifting by the second as new cases rolled in. Between the noise, the pages, and the demands of back-to-back emergencies, she hadn’t had a spare moment—until now. Finally able to look, she peeked into each exam room as she passed, also scanning for Michael.

Finally, she spotted him. 

Standing in the doorway, she called out, “Dr. Robby?”

Michael was looking up from the chart he was filling out while Victoria Javadi, the med student currently shadowing him, checked the patient under his supervision.

“Can… I talk to you outside?”

Michael glanced at her, then back at Javadi.

“Hold it down here. I’ll be right back,” he said, giving her a nod before stepping out into the ER floor with Dana.

“What’s up?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest.

Dana swallowed. “Robby, she’s here. Exam Room 13.”

“Who’s here?” His brow furrowed, clearly not understanding.

“She’s here,” Dana said again, slower this time, her eyes locking onto him.

Then it hit him.

His stomach dropped.

You’re here.

“W–what?” he said, hard and sharp, disbelief cutting through his voice.

“The bus pulled in a while ago-"

“How long ago?!” His voice rose, sharp.

“Half an hour—she hit her head. Took a fall during the field trip—”

Michael’s heart skipped, then kicked into overdrive. He didn’t wait for the rest.

He turned on his heel and bolted, weaving through the ER, past gurneys, staff, and startled patients.

He barely registered people calling his name.

Didn’t care about the chart he’d left behind, the patient waiting for him at 7 with Victoria, or the conversation he’d been having seconds ago.

All he could hear was Dana’s voice echoing in his head.

She hit her head.

His hands were already trembling. Thoughts circled like vultures—loud, fast, frantic. He didn’t know how bad it was. Was it minor? Maybe. But probably not—Not if the ambulance brought her in.

And then another thought struck—hard and bitter.

He’d ignored you this morning.

You’d smiled at him. Said, “Good morning.” Told him to have a good day.

And he hadn’t said anything back.

He’d brushed past you like you didn’t matter. And now—now this.

His chest felt tight. His feet moved faster.

Room 13. Room 13. Room 13.

Nothing else mattered. Not now.

Because you were here.

And you were hurt.

 He rounded the corner too fast, nearly slipped—caught himself—nearly crashing into Jack as he stepped out of Exam Room 13.

“WOAH!” Jack exclaimed, throwing an arm out to steady them both.

“Robby—”

“I gotta get to her—I” Michael said breathlessly, trying to push past him.

Jack grabbed his shoulders, holding him in place. “Stop, she’s gone.”

Robby froze. His heart plummeted, eyes going wide as the blood drained from his face. He couldn’t breathe—he just stood there, stunned, like the ground had been ripped out from under him.

Jack’s eyes widened as he realized. “Oh—shit—no! Gone as in, not in the room! I took her to her CT scan!”

Michael’s breath shuddered out of him. He stumbled back a step, dragging a hand down his face.

“FUCK, Abbot!” he snapped, voice hoarse. “Next time, maybe lead with that!!!”

Jack winced, “Yeah. Okay. Fair. Sorry!” He says quickly.

Michael looked like he was about to break. Without hesitation, Jack grabbed his elbow and pulled him inside your exam room, closing the door behind them.

Jack softened. “You want to sit for a second?”

Michael shook his head, jaw tight. “No. Just… give me a minute.”

His chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. He turned away from Jack and leaned heavily against the wall, one hand braced flat against it while the other gripped his thigh. For a long moment, he stayed like that—bent slightly at the waist, eyes squeezed shut—trying to catch his breath and slow his racing heart.

Then, with a trembling hand, he reached under his scrub top and T-shirt and pulled out the gold Star of David necklace he always wore—small, worn, and mostly hidden. He rubbed it between his fingers, clutching it tight in his calloused palm like a lifeline.

With his eyes still closed, he drew in a shaky breath, as if trying to summon strength from somewhere deep inside—something steady, unyielding.

Jack said nothing. He didn’t need to. He just watched, quiet and still, letting Michael have the space to come back to himself.

Michael straightened slowly, collecting himself.

“She’s okay?” Michael finally forced out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jack exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s conscious. Talking. But I’m pretty sure she has a skull fracture—I just don’t know how severe yet. We’re gonna have ro wait on the CT to tell us more.”

Michael’s face went pale. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Jack softened his tone. “Listen, Robby… I know this sucks. It’s scary, but you’re not alone here. We’re doing everything we can, as fast as we can. She’s tough, and she’s got the best care possible.”

He paused, then added, “It’s us. This team, this hospital—we make it work. You know that. You’ve been part of holding it together more times than I can count.”

Michael’s jaw twitched, but his eyes flicked up—just for a second—as Jack continued.

“She’s in good hands. Our hands.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.” But there was no real conviction in his voice. 

Jack glanced at Michael, his expression firm but not unkind.

“There’s nothing you can do right now, Robby,” he said quietly. “I know that’s the last thing you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

Michael’s eyes stayed fixed on the floor, jaw still tight, hands flexing at his sides.

Jack’s voice softened. “And as much as I hate to say it… you’ve got to pull it together and do your job. For now. Until she comes back from CT. We’ll know more soon.”

Michael closed his eyes for a beat, breathing through the heaviness in his chest. Then he nodded—barely.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

Jack glanced around. “It’s busy today. You know how it is—we’ve got to stay on top of everything, keep things moving.”

Michael knew Jack was right. As much as it tore at him, there was nothing more he could do right now.

So he did the only thing he could—he took a deep breath, straightened his spine, and began to shift the panic into focus. Into control.

He would see you when you came back from CT. Until then, he’d do his job. Just like he always had.

Tags: @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @beebeechaos @antisocialfiore @delicatetrashtree @xxxkat3xxx @homebytheharbor @woodxtock @letstryagaintomorrow @livingavilaloca @elkitot @annabellee88 @hagarsays @emma8895eb @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing @jazzimac1967@lafemme-nk @kmc1989 @whos6claire @harrysgothicbitch @trustme3-13 @qardasngan @silas-aeiou @k3ndallroy @ohmystrawberrycheesecake @ay0nha @404creep @dantemorenatalie @obfuscateyummy @steviebbboi @alliegc28 @catmomstyles3 @ardentistella @madprincessinabox @circumspectre @the-one-with-the-grey-color @thatchickwiththecamera @violetswritingg @valutfromlune @baileythepenguin @galmorizethechaos @capj-1437 @airgoddess @nah2991 @interestellarprincess @laurensfilm @peachjellyy @aj3684 @sorryimstupidrn @escapingjune

Across The Hall | (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

[4kozy]

sing a song about me

megan. ( after dark )

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pairing | megan x fem!reader

tw | implied smut, minor language, slight nsfw, idk what else can i add.. men dni, mdni!!

genre + wc | fluff + 903

syn | late nights with your girlfriend, megan skiendiel.

an | can u tell i came up with this last night honeypots?

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You don’t even notice it.

You don’t notice it with the soft glow in the corner of the room, a small plug-in lamp being the only true form of lighting active right now.

It being Megan: topless in your doorway with a pair of purple basketball shorts on that definitely seen better days, holding a glass of water with a lovestruck look in her eyes.

You’re on the bed, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone, humming along with a song that came up on your page, face glowing from the light of the screen and the thin layer of sweat on your body; the bedsheets are scrunched up underneath you, duvet halfway off the bed, hanging for dear life.

But Megan stares at you like you’re a piece of renaissance art, studying you wordlessly, as if she’d never seen you before.

You’re beautiful.

With the marks on body, with hair sticking to your face, with the glassy look in your eyes–all evidence that she was there.

Megan had been inside you, beside you, on top of you, and now she’s left her imprint on you. And nothing felt better than the idea that tomorrow–well, more like later today, people would know that.

People would know that Megan Skiendiel was there.

That she’s the only one you trust with your body.

Her chest explodes with pride. Never in a million years would she expect to get so lucky with somebody like you.

“Baby, I got you some water,” she finally speaks, drawing your attention to her. There’s a sense of awe in her voice as she walks over to you, sliding into the bed with a small thump.

You press a kiss to her jaw, hand grazing hers as you take the glass. “Thanks, Megs. Always so sweet.”

Megan burns. She burns, hot and flustered, stumbling over her words, staring straight ahead. “Uh… You’re welcome.”

You snicker, putting your phone down and bringing your body closer to her, causing her to freeze up with all the grace of a child playing twister. You’re nestled into her side, head on her shoulder, legs resting on top hers; it’s like you were meant to be there all along, bodies fitting not like puzzle pieces, but like clay molded around each other, mixing together where you meet in the middle.

Her jaw clenches, chest tightening up before she panics, stammering like an idiot, ”Hey, wait! You’re still–“

“I see you on stage, Megan,” you roll your eyes in feigned exasperation. “Are you always gonna act awkward like this after we have sex or…?” your voice, once taking on a playfully teasing tone now trails off into laughter.

Megan whips her head down towards you, embarrassment and some other feeling making themselves known on her features.

A beat passes before she speaks again.

“You’re warm,” she murmurs. It’s so quiet that you think it’s a thought that unintentionally found itself outside her head. She glances at you, lovesick look in her eyes, and then double-takes, flustered. “And you’re naked! Get off me..!”

You laugh loudly, scooting just the smallest bit, moving to rest your head against your headboard. “Yeah, I’m naked silly,” you grin, pausing to take a sip. “Remember, Meimei? You’re the one that got me naked… Talking about, ‘oh you got me all hot and bothered, and you need to take responsibility...’ That was you!”

Megan chokes on nothing, face becoming even redder, if that was possible. “Don’t remind me of what I said?!” she hisses, lightly knocking your skulls together.

You lean over to put your cup on the nightstand, movements slow and deliberate, knowing that your girlfriend’s eyes were always on you, regardless of the situation. Megan swallows thickly, eyebrows furrowing with slight irritation and a glint of desire in her eyes.

She just couldn’t stop herself from wanting you all the time, even when you were being annoying on purpose.

“Oh no, Mei. I’m not reminding of what you said. I’m simply… throwing old words in the air,” you say, stretching obnoxiously before crawling over to her.

Megan gapes at you, still staring like a deer caught in headlights. “You’re an asshole,” she pouts. Soft whines of discontent exit her lips at your teasing.

“And you,” you say, pausing your statement with a swing of your leg over her lap, now straddling her. “You’re a dork. My dork.”

She goes quiet, lost in thought for a minute. Her hands find purchase on your waist, her grip so tight that you’re sure marks will form. “Mean it?” she whispers, heart skipping.

“‘Course I do,” you breathe.

The tension is palpable, air changing between you into something so much more passionate.

But never intense-only familiar.

Unspoken words fill the space; not that they were uncomfortable, but the eye contact between you two was enough. You knew Megan now.

Unlike before with the slightly awkward pre-sex conversation, or fumbled fingers, or surprise when learning something new about each other, Megan knew your body like she could draw a map of it from memory, and in vice versa. She knew you.

It was so refreshing–an attentive partner who tried her best to understand you so well that speaking was just unnecessary. All it took was a glance. On stage, on flights, at home. All it took was a lock of eyes.

And the glance now–the stare bouncing back and forth between you was saying the same thing: I want you.

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[weemssapphic]

hello hello hello, i don’t know if your requests are open but listen

okay, imagine larissa while she’s pleasuring an other woman who is on her lap and has her front pressed to larissa’s

reader passes in front of the door where they are doing it and she hears some moans, she slowly opens the doors, just a few inches so that she can observe the scene

larissa makes eye contact with her, she doesn’t stop, no no, she keeps going and going, she brings the other woman over the edge while constantly keeping eye contact with the reader and smirking while the two women moans in each other ears

reader then realizes how wrong the situation is and go back to her room but she isn’t aware of larissa who followed her and i don’t know the rest is up to you💀 if you will ever want to write this, i understand if you don’t like it, it’s pure smut with feelings at te end? or maybe no feelings at all but just friends with benefits? idk change whatever u want!!

-xoxo dear

i love all your fics so much and ily too!

a/n: another older request that i never got to finishing as i start on some newer ones! i'm so sorry but i hope you like it and thank you sooo much, ily!!!

watching her (nsfw)

words: ~3.7k | ao3 link in title accidental voyeurism, slutty!Larissa, slightly dubious power dynamics - enjoy!

Insomnia is slowly driving you mad. It’s been at least a week since you last got more than 4 solid hours of sleep in a row and you’ve taken to restlessly wandering the corridors of Nevermore in an attempt to tire yourself out. 

Last night, you bumped into Principal Weems on your little walk, as she’d been on her way back to her quarters after being out. It had been late, sure, but you hadn’t questioned it — the woman was allowed to have a life outside of Nevermore, after all. She’d invited you back to her office for a nightcap, you’d talked for a bit, laughed even — she’d insisted you call her Larissa and stop with the formalities, it had made you blush and stutter like a fool. 

She’d said you could come by again sometime if you still found yourself plagued by sleepless nights, that she often stayed up late working and could use the company. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t call on her again, she was probably just being nice, you didn’t want to bother her — but, well… why not?

Your feet carry you towards Principal Weems’s — Larissa’s — office and you knock gently, afraid of disturbing her. The door swings open at your knock, it hadn’t been closed properly, and you stare at it, perplexed.

“Larissa?” you call out, peeking your head into the office. 

Silence.

The room is dark, the last embers dying in the fireplace — clearly she’d already retired to her quarters. You should leave… but she should know that her office is unlocked, you have a feeling she wouldn’t like that. 

Her quarters are connected to her office by a door at the far end and you make your way towards it — you’ll just knock, politely explain that you found the door to her office open, and then leave again. Surely she’d be grateful that you told her. 

As you approach the door to her quarters, you find that this one is ajar as well — and, before you have a chance to decide whether or not to knock, the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard in your life reaches your ears.

All of the blood in your body rushes to your cheeks and you freeze in place — was Larissa masturbating? Having sex? There’s another moan, a little quieter than the first, but it sounds close, and you know you should turn around and leave but against your better judgement you lean towards the door and place your ear against it and it opens just a few inches more, so that you’re able to peer through the crack.

It feels like a hummingbird has been trapped in your chest, and even eating sand couldn’t make your mouth feel drier.

The door opens into a small sitting room, with a sofa that faces it, and sitting on that sofa is none other than Larissa herself — with a naked woman on her lap, whose back is to you. Larissa seems to be wearing lingerie, it’s hard to tell from the angle, but it’s more of her than you’ve ever seen before, her long legs spread to accommodate the other woman’s petite frame, one hand on the woman’s hip and the other hand disappearing between their bodies.

The two women are kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths. Larissa’s moans are the softer, quieter ones, and the sound makes it feel as though your whole body is suddenly on fire. Your lips feel chapped, you lick them in vain, you realize you haven’t been breathing. You know you should turn away, sneak back to your own quarters before you get caught, but your legs feel like jell-o and you’re certain that if you tried to take so much as one step, your knees would give out and you’d collapse on the spot.

Then Larissa breaks the kiss, nips at the woman’s earlobe — she tilts her head with a moan and Larissa opens her eyes and looks right in your direction and you almost do collapse on the spot, suddenly feeling more than a little lightheaded, your stomach sinking.

You brace yourself, ready for Larissa to stop everything, to come over and berate you, to unleash her fury on you and send you packing. Her eyes bore into your own, pupils so blown that barely a sliver of blue is visible, and you can’t look away no matter how hard you will yourself to. 

But nothing happens. Larissa’s lips stay firmly attached to the other woman’s neck, her shoulder flexes as her arm appears to move with even more urgency — it’s hard to see from where you’re stood but from the obscene noises that reach your ears, you can only assume that Larissa is buried knuckle deep in this woman’s cunt.

Obscenities begin to spill from her lips as she bucks against Larissa, none the wiser to the audience half-hidden behind the door. Her back arches and flexes and the tendons in her neck stretch as Larissa’s lips assault her pulse point, as Larissa digs her teeth into the smooth flesh, all the while keeping her eyes on you.

You can almost see a hint of a smirk on Larissa’s lips as she brings the other woman over the edge, holding her firmly against herself as she trembles and moans in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. It’s as if Larissa is getting off on having you watch her, her cheeks adorned with a rosy flush and her eyes hooded.

It’s almost too much for you to handle. This is so wrong, not only walking in on your boss during sex but staying and watching like a voyeur. You shouldn’t be here — even if Larissa hasn’t acknowledged you yet, you’re certain that you’ll be fired by morning, when she finally comes to her senses.

You stumble back from the door, moans continuing to spill through the crack. Your foot catches on the corner of a rug and you have to catch yourself on Larissa’s desk — the action snaps you firmly back to reality and you slip out of Larissa’s office as quietly as you can. 

Once you’re in the hallway your feet pick up speed, pure adrenaline carrying you back to your own quarters. You’re grateful that it’s the middle of the night and no one is around, surely people would question why you’re sprinting through the halls as if you’re being chased. You don’t stop until you’ve slammed and locked the door to your quarters behind you, and then your knees give out and you sink to the floor.

The thing is, you like Larissa — a lot more than you should. You probably shouldn’t have even taken the job in the first place, seeing as your crush started during your very first interview for the position. Until now, though, it’s been fairly easy to suppress your feelings. You truly don’t interact with Larissa that much, most of your time is spent with your students and working. Only now, you have no idea how you’re ever going to be able to face Larissa again.

One question gnaws at you, and the more you think about it, the more your stomach sinks. Why didn’t Larissa stop what she was doing? Why did she let you watch, why did it seem like she wanted you to watch? Was it because she has some sort of voyeurism kink? Or was it, perhaps, because she has some sort of feelings for you, too? 

You scoff at yourself — the thought of Larissa Weems finding you desirable is utterly absurd. Plus, if she did have feelings for you, why would she be fucking someone else? Tears begin to blur your vision, spilling down your cheeks, and you press your face against your knees, losing sense of time as you try (and fail) to reign in your emotions.

A gentle knock at your door rips you from your misery, and you realize that you’re still sitting on the floor. Your knees pop as you stand and you quickly wipe at your eyes with your sleeves, trying to make it look like you haven’t been sobbing. Your heart hammers in your chest as you reach for the door handle, wondering who could be calling on you — perhaps another teacher who heard you crying? Or maybe a student needs help?

Oh. 

Oh. 

It’s Larissa.

She stands tall in front of you, looking down at you in a way you’ve never seen before. She doesn’t appear to be angry — on the contrary, there’s a small, playful smile on her lips and her cheeks are flushed a gorgeous shade of pink. She’s dressed, though a bit haphazardly, and a few baby hairs peek out of her updo at her forehead.

“I thought you’d still be awake,” she says, her voice a low purr, and you’re certain your face is as red as a tomato, a lump growing in your throat. You wonder if she’s being sweet on purpose to lull you into a false sense of security, but you quickly shake the thought from your head — that isn’t like her.

Your voice fails you so you nod meekly instead, and that little act of submission turns Larissa’s smile into a smirk.

“Are you alright, darling? You don’t look very well…” Her tone is light and teasing but her eyebrows crease a bit as her eyes track the dried trails of your tears down your cheeks. You nod again, wiping at your cheeks with your sleeve, certain you’ve never looked more pathetic in your life.

“I’m fine,” you lie, the tremble in your voice giving you away, and Larissa cups your cheek, her thumb grazing across your lower lip and sending a spark down your spine — your accompanying shiver doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Was that a bit too much for you, my dear?” she coos, and your breath stutters in your chest as images that you’re trying to suppress come flooding back to you.

“I-I just…” You don’t know what to say. Is Larissa looking for an explanation? An apology? Why did she follow you? Why is she touching you?

“I’m not upset with you, darling,” she reassures you, her tone soft. So you’re not in trouble, but this is uncharted territory all the same. She takes a step towards you, backing you into your quarters, and closes the door behind herself. “Why don’t we have a seat, hm?”

Her gaze flickers to your bed and you can only nod dumbly as you let her lead you towards it with a hand on the small of your back, taking a seat beside you. Her thigh is touching yours, her body heat radiating off of her, and you swear you can smell the sex on her, and it’s making it hard to think.

“Why did you come to my quarters?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep again,” you admit quietly, clasping your hands in your lap and looking down at them to keep yourself from doing something you’ll regret. “Larissa, I-I swear, I didn’t mean to walk in on you, it’s just your office door was unlocked and I–”

“I was hoping you’d come by tonight.”

Larissa’s admission knocks the wind right out of you, and you can’t help but to look up at her, struck dumb by the amusement on her face. “Y-you were?” You hate how breathy your voice has gotten, a spark of hope and something more primal sprouting in your abdomen, but your brows knit together in confusion as you try to make sense of the situation you’ve found yourself in. “But what about that other woman?”

“Just a friend,” Larissa says casually, shrugging. 

“A… friend? Does she know you’re here?”

Larissa smirks. “She does.” Her gaze drops slowly, deliberately to your lips, turning your core to molten lava.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Larissa mocks, and your face turns crimson. She reaches into your lap and takes your hand in her own, stopping your fidgeting. “Tell me you want me to leave and I will.”

“I… can’t do that,” you admit, unable to hear your own voice over the hammering of your heart in your ears.

At that, Larissa takes your hand and places it on her own waist, then kicks her heels off and adjusts herself on the bed so that she’s slowly pushing you backwards until you’re lying flat on your back and she’s hovering over you. “Do you want this as much as I do?” she asks, her gaze flickering between each of your eyes, and you almost don’t answer because you’re so distracted by how soft and right her hip feels beneath your hand. 

“I don’t know how much you want this…” You swallow thickly and Larissa chuckles, the sound like music to your ears. “B-but yeah, I want this.”

Larissa shifts her weight onto one arm, her other hand running through your hair until it reaches your jaw. She hooks one finger below your chin and tilts it up, pressing her lips gently to yours and pressing the length of her body against you.

Her lips are just as soft as you’d pictured them to be (and it’s something you’d daydreamed about often) and your heart is beating so fast you think you might actually be having a heart attack. It takes you a moment to start kissing her back and, when you do, you reach up tentatively to cup her cheeks. The action spurs Larissa on and she flicks her tongue against your lips, silently begging you to part them — you do, without a second thought, unable to stifle the moan that rips from your chest as her tongue tangles with your own.

It’s easy to get lost in a woman like Larissa. Her mouth is hot and wet and tastes like red wine and lipstick, and her body is warm and soft and smells like tuberose and vanilla. She’s got a way of enveloping your senses so that nothing else exists in that moment apart from her, and you’re powerless to stop her — not that you would ever want to. 

She bends her leg and intertwines it with yours, sliding her hand along your jaw and into your hair, her fingers curling behind your ear as she deepens the kiss. The most sinful little sighs and moans spill from her mouth directly into yours, making you soak through your underwear faster than the best audio porn you’ve ever heard.

You think you might be having the same effect on Larissa, because you feel her shudder against you, her hand tightening in your hair as her knee inches towards your center. “I like the way you taste,” she mumbles against your lips, her tongue delving deeper into your mouth. 

“Same,” you murmur, rather pathetically, and Larissa chuckles, nipping playfully at your lower lip — then her knee presses against your core through your trousers, making you gasp. Your head falls back against the pillow and Larissa takes the opportunity to cover your neck in kisses and little bites. Her knee grinds against your cunt and, from this angle, you feel the warmth radiating from her own crotch against your thigh. “Larissa, p-please…”

“Please? Please what?” she teases, pulling back just in time to watch your face turn red, your lips parting but no words coming out. “May I take this off?” she asks, giving the hem of your shirt a gentle tug, clearly realizing she’s not going to get a coherent answer out of you, and you nod eagerly. 

Larissa’s hand is warm against your stomach and your abs contract as her fingers slide up your torso, pulling your shirt along with them and revealing more and more of your body to her. She pushes your shirt over your breasts and you help her to tug it off the rest of the way, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Your bra soon follows, Larissa’s fingers getting to work on the clasp and wasting no time in getting you naked. Her lips replace her hands, nipping at the swell of your breasts, leaving little red marks and tiny bruises, marking you as her own.

“Aren’t you just stunning?” she murmurs as she kisses her way down the center of your abdomen, her hands molding against the curve of your waist, her breath tickling your skin and making every hair on your body stand on end.

You start to squirm as she gets closer and closer to the hem of your trousers, and you feel her smirk against your lower belly as she hooks her fingers beneath the waistband and starts to tug, her lips following your trousers as they get pulled down, then discarded. 

“You’re so wet,” she coos — your cheeks are aflame as you shift your hips slightly and feel how you’ve soaked through your underwear, and then Larissa speaks again and you feel you may combust on the spot. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, darling, you’re not the only one…”

Larissa sits up, unbuttoning the front of her dress — her breasts spill out of their constraints and you realize she’s come here without a bra on. You shiver. She frees her arms from the dress and tugs it down her body, over the soft swell of her lower belly, her hips, shifting to the side to pull it down her legs and toss it aside, along with her underwear, which join the heap of clothing on the floor. In the dim light of your bedroom, you can see her pale inner thighs glisten with the evidence of her arousal, the smell of her growing stronger with no more barriers in place.

“Now, where were we…” she teases, lowering herself again so that her face is level with your cunt. She presses her lips to your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you need her most, and you struggle to keep yourself from bucking your hips against her face. You pray she doesn’t notice this but of course she does — she chuckles, her breath hitting the cool, wet spot at the center of your underwear and making you clench. “Patience, darling.” 

“S-sorry,” you mumble, fisting at the sheets to have something to do with your hands, to keep yourself from squirming and fidgeting as Larissa pulls your underwear down your thighs and then wraps her arms around them, giving you a little tug to get you just where she wants you.

A moan spills from your lips, so guttural that you hardly recognize it as your own, as Larissa runs her tongue up the length of your pussy. She mumbles something about how you taste but her voice is muffled against you and you can’t really focus on what she’s saying anyway as all the blood in your body rushes to your cunt.

You feel your knees bend of their own accord, your body opening itself to Larissa, seeking more of the pleasure she’s giving you. Her tongue dips inside of you, deeper, deeper, fuck, her tongue is long, she fucks you with it nice and slow, thorough, taking her time. When she moans it seems to vibrate throughout your entire body, you bite down on your lip so hard that you draw blood.

It’s clear now why that other woman was moaning so hard — Larissa knows just which buttons to press. Your thighs are already trembling as she thrusts her tongue inside of you, and then she circles your clit with her thumb and you see stars. You want to watch her so badly, you’ve fantasized about this moment and, if the last thing you ever saw was Larissa’s silky blonde hair bobbing between your thighs, you’d die the happiest person on the planet. But it’s so hard to keep your eyes open, every muscle in your body clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm just a little while longer.

You don’t consciously remember moving your hands but they’re in Larissa’s hair now, gripping so desperately that you’re probably hurting her — though, if you are, she doesn’t let on. She doubles down, letting you push her head against your cunt, her thumb against your clit, and you finally can’t take it anymore — your body tenses as your orgasm washes over you, the most satisfying release you’ve ever felt.

Larissa stays in position as you ride out your high and even after, gently and thoroughly cleaning you up with her tongue until you whine and twitch away from her, too sensitive to continue. She releases your legs from her hold, crawling up your body and lowering herself beside you, curling one arm around you and pulling you into her side. You rest your head against her chest, your breathing slowly synching with hers, her heartbeat helping you to regulate your own. You’re sweaty and your cheek sticks to the top of her breast but she doesn’t seem to mind, just runs her fingertips up and down your arm as you come back down to earth.

“You said you wanted this,” she says after a while, her voice quiet and contemplative in the silence of your room.

You grunt in response, still feeling a little dazed.

“Since when?”

A blush spreads across your face, you’re sure Larissa can feel the sudden heat from your cheek against her skin. You can’t believe you’re about to confess to Larissa how long you’ve liked her — but then again you can’t believe she’s just eaten you out either. “I think since I first met you, actually,” you murmur, preparing yourself for a negative reaction.

Larissa laughs, her chest rumbling beneath your head. “That’s quite a long time… though my answer wouldn’t be much better.” That alone makes your heart pound but then Larissa continues speaking and your ears start to ring. “Though I think if I’m being honest, I want a little more than just this.” 

“What do you want?” you whisper, trying desperately to keep your hope at bay. You steal a glance at Larissa’s face and, even though it’s hard to tell from the angle, you swear she has a small smile on her face.

“More than just sex, I mean,” she starts, her fingertips still tracing patterns against your bare arm. “I’d like to take you out, get to know you better… spoil you a little, perhaps.” There’s a trace of teasing humor in her voice, mixed with a vulnerability that you’ve never seen from her before. You nuzzle your face against her neck, your heart in your throat, your voice hoarse when you reply.

“That’s what I want, too…” 

Larissa presses her lips to your head and hums softly. “Then I suppose I’d like to know if you’re free this Friday evening, and if I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes, Larissa…” You prop yourself up so that you can look her in the eye. “Yes, I would love to go out to dinner with you.” Pausing, you reach out to tuck a strand of Larissa’s hair behind her ear, your cheeks warming and your heart thrumming in your chest as you prepare to be brave. You take a deep breath. “But… for now… let me return the favor?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Taglist: @alexusonfire @pro-weems-places @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @fictionalized-lesbian @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @http-sam @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @niceminipotato @thevillagegay @barbarasstar @jadewolf22 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @lilfartbox1 @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @daydream-cement @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @ilovetlcc @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen

Join my taglist here!

[pheelixs]

I FORGOT TO POST THESE... But better late than never!! I might do a reference sheet for em, but idk

[criminalyapping]

we can share one seat

the pitt masterlist main masterlist

pairing: cassie mckay x f!reader

a/n: my first crack at dr. mckay!! i love her i think she's just neat :) and hot :) and listen idk how parole works maybe she can go to a bar? idk!

if you like/want more dr mckay i would be happy to oblige lol

warnings: age gap (cassie is 42, reader is 24), language, suggestive but no smut, she has a freak out about being old and creepy but she is neither and I do not think that!!

based on this lovely anon, i hope you like it!!

Cassie considers herself a good doctor. She got a little bit of a later start to her career, but she finally found a job that she’s passionate about.

If you take away the irresponsible ex-husband, the ankle monitor, and her unfavorable custody arrangement at the moment, her life is going okay.

Dr. McKay, she thinks to herself, proud of her title, is a consummate professional at work, except when her ex-husband’s concerningly younger girlfriend shows up. But that was only that one time.

When she gets off of work in the evenings, she returns home to an empty apartment, desperately wishing her son was down the hall in his room. A room all set up for him that she painstakingly put together, which he’s barely seen. She lies in her bed, lonely and somewhat bitter about her ex-husband getting to play happy family while she rots alone. Somewhat bitter- okay, maybe a lot bitter. But it’s these feelings, the loneliness, the emptiness of her home, that finally pushes her to download an app she promised herself she never would - Tinder.

She overthinks until the time on her nightstand reads way too late. She has scant few photos of herself - who takes pictures of themselves? What does she put in her bio? Multiple times, she throws her phone down on the corner of her bed and gives up. Every time, however, she picks the phone back up a few minutes later.

She finally ends up with a profile she determines is passable. She smirks to herself as she selects ages and genders that she’s interested in. She’s not touching men with a 10 foot pole right now. As for age, she cheekily slides the youngest number way lower than she normally would. If she can find a younger, hotter girlfriend than her no good, creepy ex and stick it to him, maybe that would make her feel even better. As good as a 42 year old on Tinder can feel.

Cassie generally forgets about her late night Tinder escapades while at work the next day, but as soon as she gets home her phone is open and her thumbs are swiping.

She’s under no impression that the mid-to-late 20 something year olds are going to swipe on her, so she does it with little embarrassment. She swipes on women her own age too, of course, but none of the matches have gone anywhere yet.

It’s not totally unusual for her to check her phone briefly when she gets a spare moment between cases, but this time when she does, she sees that she has a new match. She chokes on the sip of water she had just taken, coughing a few times and wiping the stray drops from her chin with the back of her hand.

What is this girl doing swiping right on her profile. 24, absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, with a witty bio and some funny pictures sprinkled in. After catching her breath, Cassie tells herself that there is no way that it wasn’t an accident. With no message from this girl, she closes the app and decides not to think about the mistake this poor girl made.

And yet, when she gets into her car and finally has another moment to check, there’s now a new message, from the girl, sitting unopened on her phone.

Freaking out, she drives home, changes, showers, and eats some food, all while staring suspiciously at the phone she threw on her couch like it burned her the second she walked in the door.

Fuck, is she old and creepy? Chad is old and creepy. That must mean that she is, too, right? She paces back and forth across her living room.

No, no, she finally thinks. Chad is old and creepy because he’s old and creepy. Is she isn’t already old and creepy, then reading and responding to this message wouldn’t make her that way.

Jesus Christ, she thinks, just read the message. More than likely nothing will even happen and, like all of her other matches, this will fizzle out and die, leaving her hopeless and alone, still.

So, she flops on the couch and finally clicks into your message. Just a cute, simple greeting, and definitely not an accidental match like she had thought.

She ends up sending a greeting back, and asking a simple follow up question.

Much, much, to her surprise, the conversation is still going on three days later. The longest conversation she has had on this app lasted maybe a day, making this anomalous to her.

Not only do you propel the conversation forward, asking questions and posing thoughts to her, but you’re funny. Funny and witty and gorgeous, she thinks again after scrolling through your photos for the millionth time.

Cassie kind of doesn’t know what to do with herself about it.

Luckily, you seem happy as a clam to slowly take the steps forward that she is too hesitant to do herself. She breathes a sigh of relief when you finally ask if you can text her, apparently embarrassed by the amount of time you’re spending on the Tinder app. She gratefully sends you her phone number to use instead.

Every time she gets a text from you, she stops and wonders, yet again, what you’re doing texting her. And every time, she refuses to look a gift horse in the mouth and messages you back.

A week later, and with texting you now the highlight of her days, she receives a message from you that has her heart in her throat.

‘when are u going to ask me out? 🥺’

Shit. Shit. Is she going to be able to do that?

Of course she is, her parents didn't raise someone who backs down. Especially not to a 24 year old girl who, for all intents and purposes, seems into her for some reason and is pouting, pouting over text to be asked out on a date.

Cassie decides with a smirk that of course she can handle this girl, maybe even teach her a thing or two.

'Right now Tomorrow at 9?'

'yesssss what are we doing?' you reply.

'Drinks? Movie at my place?' Cassie suggests.

'both is good either is good' you agree.

Cassie is smiling down at her phone, excited and so nervous to see you tomorrow night after work.

Across town, you're jumping around you bedroom, ecstatic that she has finally asked you out. With just a little push from you.

Standing outside the hole-in-the-wall dive bar Cassie had suggested, anxiety has taken root in your stomach and shows no sign of dissipating. Taking a few deep breaths, you enter the bar and look around, spying who you think is Cassie seated at the bar on her phone. Summoning all your courage, you make your way towards her, resting your elbows on the bar.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask with a smile.

Cassie’s head whips into your direction, startled.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” she greets. “Yes, please,” she says, motioning to the stool next to hers. Deciding that it isn’t close enough, you hook your foot around one of the legs and pull it closer to her, perching yourself on top of it.

“You found the place okay?” she asks, her face surprised and pleased as she watches you maneuver your seat.

“Yeah, yeah,” you agree, placing your purse on the bar.

“What are you drinking?” she asks, motioning to the bartender.

“A dirty Shirley, please.” you tell the bartender, who nods.

Cassie chuckles from next to you.

“That is such a 24 year old drink.” she laughs.

“Oh?” you return, “and what are you drinking?” you flirt.

“Vodka martini, extra dirty.” she tells you with a wink.

“Ooo,” you marvel, “so sophisticated.”

“Sure,” Cassie laughs, rolling her eyes. “You want a taste?” she offers, nudging it over to you.

“I’m not going to like it,” you laugh. Despite this, you pick up the drink and look into Cassie’s eyes as you take a small sip.

You can’t help the scrunch your face does as your tongue is assaulted by harsh vodka and salt from the brine.

Cassie laughs, taking the drink back from you.

“You’ll like it when you’re older, honey.” she chuckles.

You give an exaggerated offended look. “Oh, don’t even,” you laugh.

You sit and chat with Cassie, getting along with her just as well as over text, luckily.

Worried you might be disturbing the other patrons by the loud laughter you share, as well as the late time, you suggest moving to Cassie’s apartment. Her eyes widen for a moment, surprised, but her face settles into a smirk as she agrees.

“Honey, wake up,” you hear, pulling you out of your sleep. You grumble, opening your eyes. “I have to go to work.” she tells you, rubbing your bare shoulders to help you wake up.

“What time is it?” you mumble.

“About 6:30.” she tells you.

“Mmm, okay.” you grumble, thinking about what you have to do before work this morning. You sit up, stretching as you look around Cassie’s bedroom. “My clothes?” you ask, not awake enough to form full sentences.

“Here,” she says, holding out a handful of clothes to you. You quickly pull them on, barely waking up as she ushers you out of her apartment with apologies.

“Sorry, I have to leave for work like,” she looks down at her phone with a grimace, “now. I’ll text you, okay?” you promises, giving your sleepy face a hard, dirty kiss that you’re not awake enough to reciprocate properly.

Cassie scurries away with a smile as you order an uber home, not excited for the mad rush awaiting you needed to get to work on time.

It’s only halfway through the drive that you remember a question you had wanted to ask, so you send her a text.

‘what’s with the ankle monitor?’

A few minutes later, you receive an answer from her.

‘I beat up my ex-husbands new girlfriend’

You bite back a smile at the text. You love unhinged.

‘hot’ you text back.

You have to see Cassie again.

tagging: @celiacallsitcausal (i'm expanding my horizons so feel free to tell me if there are things you don't want to be tagged in!)

[aibouart]

i know it's so fuckin late at night rn (my silly nightlight mode is auto turned on so it's past my bedtime) but anyways

i just looked at my inbox on this acc and ..... i've missed SO MANY ASKS on here i am going insane

i feel bad answering them now cuz idk how old they are (i don't have the extension for timestamps on this browser profile oops) and i don't wanna answer shit people sent like a year ago or something and it's awkward BUT ANYWAYS i might answer them anyways cuz i feel really bad they're just there............. and i didn't know/forgot.........

[katebeckets]

THE MENTALIST APPRECIATION WEEK ⤷ DAY 1 ✧ Season 1 or Favorite Character

Patrick Jane & Teresa Lisbon in season one

[cocoabell]

Oldie but goldie

My brother bought me Hades last year and it consumed my soul

[calciferstims]

I swear I’ve been meaning to gif this precious girl ever since we first got her all the way back in 2023, but I just never got around to it, soooo… I guess now you guys just get gifs her as a puppy AND as a big girl 😅 consider it a bonus <33

anyways this is our Bernese mountain dog named Summer and I love her so so much 🫶🫶🫶

please link to this post if you use my gifs!!

[prettymediocrewizard]

Got to start the year off right <3

[governmentmandatedryujinstan420]

I FORGOT TO THROW OUT AFTER THE EPISODE RELEASED NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[meowfountain]

scary

[ssreeder]

Chapters: 25/32 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), others to be tagged later - Relationship Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Aang (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Jet (Avatar), Suki (Avatar), Kyoshi Warriors (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Jee (Avatar), Hakoda (Avatar), Bato (Avatar), A bunch of OCs, Long Feng, Joo Dee (Avatar), Azula (Avatar), Mai (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar), General Fong (Avatar) Additional Tags: Violence, Blood and Injury, War, Minor Character Death, Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Major Character Injury, Amputation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, possible major character death, themes similar to the first two books, Sexism, Racism (like has already been written in first two books), dark themes, Human Trafficking, Slavery, Just a lot of dark war-like themes, there will be a battle, Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Injury Recovery, Healing, Underage Sex - Freeform, Underage Drinking, Animal Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Warnings each chapter, Hopefully some healing for Zuko finally, no promises, but that’s the goal, Reunions, hopefully a happy ending, Sokka gets some healing too, Non-Consensual Drug Use Series: Part 3 of Leaving It All Behind Summary:

-This is the last book of the series LIAB, please go read the other two books before this, or you will be very confused-

Zuko has been taken by the Earth Kingdom army to who-knows-where, and Sokka is determined to get him back.

But he can’t do it alone.

With Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors by his side, Sokka is headed to Ba Sing Se to find Katara and Aang so they can go rescue his fire bender.

Things aren’t as easy as he had hoped. Corruption, lies, and unknown horrors await them inside the city’s walls. None of this is helping Sokka’s mental well-being.

Hakoda and his men face a problem of their own as Azula approaches with the intentions of making it rain fire.

Sokka and Zuko will both find themselves having to reintegrate back into a life they thought they left behind, with people they hardly remember. It isn’t easy for anyone, especially when they don’t recognize the person standing in front of them.

[crovvertti]

me after reading imperial matrimony

started reading at 4 pm… finished in 4 am? LMAO

[francy-sketches]

This is like 3 years old but I just realized I never posted it and I still kinda like it so