#but this job makes me want to drive off a bridge

[paranorahjones]

realizing that it might actually be time to quit my job. it's a terrifying thought because a lot of people are depending on me but i actually don't think i can handle this constant stress for much longer.

[bunnihearted]

🐰🌧️

[j-esbian]

personally i feel like we should start reframing wages by how much you actually take home after taxes. i don’t make $16/hr. i make closer to $13/hr

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You want a field trip to North Island for your class, and Bradley is determined to deliver. He loves how you decide to show him some gratitude. He'd love it even more if you stayed and never left.

Warnings: Fluff, language, unprotected sex, oral sex, smut, Bradley in love, 18+

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley's alarm really pissed him off on Thursday morning. First of all, it went off an hour earlier than it usually did. And second, he had been sound asleep with your body tucked right up against him and his fingers laced with yours. When you began to stir as well, he kissed your ear and started to pull away from you. 

"I'm sorry, Baby," he murmured, voice laced with sleep and something intimate that he never remembered treating anyone else to. "Go back to sleep."

You rolled over so you were facing him, and your lips found his immediately. You kissed him softly as your fingers pulled through his hair, and he wanted more than anything to stay here with you all day. "I can't go back to sleep," you whispered. "Not when I get to spend a few extra minutes with you."

In the very short time you and he had been officially in a relationship, he had let himself indulge in the idea that you'd be around forever. That you wouldn't change your mind about him. That you'd love him and let him love you back, like equal partners. And right now all he wanted to do was keep holding you while he also couldn't wait to get to work and try to start sweet talking his superior officers.

"I can't be late today, Gorgeous. Not if I'm going to try my best to make a field trip for your class happen."

Your eyes lit up and you squeaked softly. "You're right. Get the fuck out of here."

He laughed and then groaned. "It shouldn't be sexy when you have a potty mouth." He gave you one long kiss before finally pulling away so he could get ready for work.

"I'll make you breakfast," you whispered, climbing out of bed completely naked before reaching for his discarded sweatshirt on the floor. It was yours now in his mind, and he couldn't wait until it and you were both permanent fixtures in his bedroom. That was going to have to wait a bit though unless you brought it up first. He'd already dropped the idea that he wanted to marry you in front of your class.

"You don't need to make me anything," he said as he started to pull on his clean flight suit, but you were already walking out of the room. 

Bradley finished getting ready as quickly as he could in your tiny bathroom, and when he made his way to your equally miniscule kitchen with his overnight bag, you were spreading cream cheese on a bagel and filling a purple travel mug that said #1 Teacher with coffee. "I'll see you tomorrow night?" he asked before taking a bite out of the bagel when you held it up for him.

"I mean... yes, I'll come right to your house from work tomorrow, but you'll see me before that." When he raised an eyebrow while he chewed, you shrugged and added, "I was planning on sending you a dirty picture while I get dressed."

Now both of his eyebrows were raised. "Yeah? How dirty we talking?"

All you said in response was, "I trust you to keep my job intact," before you kissed him and ushered him toward your door with his breakfast. "Go to work, and you'll find out soon. I love you."

"I love you, too, Gorgeous."

He would never get enough of your pretty face. He thought about it while he fought traffic going into San Diego and while crossing the bay bridge toward North Island. This drive sucked, but he'd do it every morning if it meant he got to spend the night in your bed with you. He also wanted to ask you to sleep over at his place during the week so you could test out traffic heading north.

When he finally parked on base, he didn't have to imagine your face any longer. He got to look at it in the picture you sent him twenty minutes ago. Along with your tits. Exchanging photos had always been a huge part of getting to know you while he was deployed, and he was delighted to find that the tradition continued.

"Oh my god," he groaned, needing to sit in his Bronco for a few extra minutes while he enjoyed the photo before ultimately saving it to his phone. Then he texted you back with a smirk before heading to the locker room.

Damn, Gorgeous. What I wouldn't give to spend a week in bed with that face and those tits.

Of course a honeymoon would be the perfect opportunity for that sort of thing. He dropped his bag off in his locker and made his way out to the hangar, running his hand over his face as he tried to push that thought to the back of his mind. As soon as he spotted Maverick, he made a beeline in his direction.

"Rooster," he greeted, barely glancing up from the clipboard he was holding. Bradley knew it was such a longshot, but he had to just go for it at this point.

"Hey, Mav, you have a minute?"He glanced up over his aviators and said, "Always. What can I do for you?" Bradley cleared his throat and tried to make sure he sounded as relaxed as possible. "

I was wondering if a fourth grade class could visit base for a field trip one day? Do a tour of the hangars and the tarmac? Maybe sit in a cockpit? Just an educational trip for some kids who are studying aviation."

There was a brief pause before Maverick asked, "Are you sleeping with a teacher?"

Bradley groaned, head tipped back as he rubbed his eyes and tried not to laugh. "Yeah. She's my girlfriend though, so it's a bit more involved than that."

Maverick sighed. "If I give you special permission for this, then everyone is going to want me to do the same for them. You know that." Bradley started nodding in defeat when Maverick took his sunglasses off and asked, "How many kids are we talking?"

"Eighteen," he replied immediately, straightening his back like he was standing at attention.

"Which school?"

"Mira Mesa Elementary."

Maverick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me see what I can do. Now get your helmet on and get to work."

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

You were finishing your lunch at your desk, about to send Bradley a text, when your phone rang in your hand. He was calling you in the middle of the day which was definitely odd.

"Bradley."

"Hey, Gorgeous," came his voice along with a ton of background noise. "Any chance you can bring your class for a field trip next week?"

Surely you misheard.

"Next week? You already got it approved?"

"Yeah." The deep, raspy rumble of his voice made you shiver. "Next Thursday work for you?"

You were on your feet, doing a little dance as you said, "You got it approved! I'll make it work. I'll type up permission slips right now. I'll call everyone's legal guardian tonight if I have to. We'll be there!"

"Perfect. Email me your complete class list so I can get visitor badges printed."

"Okay," you told him, glancing around like you didn't know where to start. "Right."

"I love you, Baby. Talk later."

He ended the call without another word, and you tucked your phone away before running a lap around your classroom. You wanted to go gloat to all of the other fourth grade teachers, but you wouldn't. You were absolutely certain that this only worked out because you were in a relationship with Bradley, so instead you got to work on the permission slips.

By Friday afternoon, your kids were beyond excited about their upcoming trip to North Island. You had secured eighteen permission slips, three chaperones and a school bus to take everyone down to Coronado next week. But today, you'd be driving there yourself to see Bradley. The traffic after work didn't even bother you as you drove to his house with both your overnight bag and your work bag. You had some quizzes to grade, but he promised you he didn't mind if you brought them along.

When you parked in front of his house, you grabbed your things and ran up to the front door which swung open before you could even knock.

"I just got home," he said with a laugh in his sexy khaki uniform and boots. "I was thinking about giving you a key in case you beat me here one of these days. Oh, shit."

You set your bags down just inside his front door and then had your hands tugging down his pants zipper before you leaned up to kiss him. As you pulled his cock free, you whispered, "I just wanted to thank you again."

You bunched Bradley's shirt up around his abs and dropped to your knees while the front door was still open, and he grunted before quickly closing it. "You don't have to thank me," he rasped as you kissed his cock, and he started to grow hard.

As you ran your nose along his length, you glanced up at him and asked, "You don't want me to give you a blowjob?"

His pupils were wide as he shook his head. "Could you imagine a world in which I didn't want you to give me a blowjob? Because I definitely couldn't."

You laughed and parted your lips. "Then let me say thank you, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

His big hand settled on the back of your head, giving you an eager push, and you took him deep as he groaned, "It's my pleasure, Baby. In so many ways."

He was velvety soft and warm, fully hard now, and you gagged as he bottomed out. You let your tongue glide slowly along his length until you pulled him free, saliva already dripping down to his balls. Then you took a deep breath and let him push you again, bobbing your head as your eyes watered. His balls were heavy in your hand, and your mouth watered more as you thought about tasting him.

When you looked up at his handsome face with your mouth full of his cock, he stroked your cheek with his free hand. "So gorgeous. So perfect." He was flushed pink, and you vaguely thought for a second about how funny it would be if Vanessa showed up right now to see this happening.

You let your hands settle on his hips, and you bobbed your head until he was tapping the back of your throat again. Bradley's sharp gasp just made you go harder, and his fingers digging gently into your hair made you go faster. "Fuck," he whispered, eyes glued on your lips as you let him pop free. You licked a swirl around his tip before going deep and sucking until your cheeks were hollow, and you could feel him throbbing with need.

"I'm really close," he crooned as you squeezed his hip. You listened to him panting as you stroked his balls with your thumb, and then you sputtered when he came. You swallowed him down as you wrapped your fingers around his base and jerked him off until he had his hand braced on the wall for support. Every drop of his cum was swallowed down, and you kissed his cock when he was finished.

"Come here," he whispered, reaching for you before doing anything else, and as you stood, he scooped you into his arms. His lips collided with yours, and you sighed as he tasted himself in your mouth. "That was hot."

Bradley's nose bumped yours as he kissed you harder and started to walk you further into his house. "We could always do it again later," you whispered with a laugh as you ran your fingers along the sheen of sweat along his hairline.

"I have other plans for you for later," he promised, voice deep and dark.

"Tell me," you whispered, but he shook his head.

"You'll find out after I cook dinner."

"Can I have a hint?"

He glanced to the side and nodded as you walked through the living room with him. "Another couch date. Kind of."

"I love couch dates."

"I love you."

Bradley made you a grilled cheese sandwich, and he made two for himself, and you stood in his kitchen with him while you ate and sipped a beer. He didn't even bother to finish zipping up his khakis after tucking himself away, and he kept you in his grasp as he told you all about what he wanted to share with your class during the field trip.

"I can take them on a tour of the hangar," he murmured, kissing your cheek. "Let them listen in on air traffic control. Do you think they'd want to sit in my cockpit?"

"Bradley," you said with a laugh. "Of course they would want to! I want to!"

"Yeah?" he asked, running his mustache along your neck. "Maybe you can sit on my lap in my cockpit? I could show you my throttle."

Your face felt warm as you whispered, "You'll get me a lifetime ban from North Island."

"Can't have that," he said solemnly, shaking his head. "When you're on summer break, I'm going to want you to come visit me at work all the time."

Butterflies erupted in your belly as you pictured yourself in six months. Visiting him at work would be incredible. You could stop by with a coffee like he had done for you, and maybe you could take one for Natasha as well. But you were also thinking about how he casually announced to your class that he intended to marry you in the not so distant future.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and felt the front of his unzipped pants through the fabric of your shirt. "I'm not driving back and forth to Coronado every day during my break, Bradley."

He smiled at you and said, "Understood. You can just spend the night as much as you want. I'm right by the beach, so you can sunbathe all day until I'm done working, and then I'll take you out to Salvatore's or cook dinner for you."

"Or we can just hang out on the couch," you whispered, your lips brushing his.

"Speaking of the couch..."

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

"Harder."

Your voice filled the living room along with your little grunts and moans as Bradley held your hips in place. You were bent over the arm of the couch with your ass up in the air, fingers digging into the cushions while he fucked you. For as sweet as you were, he loved you like this just as much. Loud and needy for him.

The sound of his body slapping against yours was already obscene, but if you wanted it harder, he'd let you have it. He was yours in every sense of the word, and he would make sure you knew it. "Does that feel good?" he crooned, watching your pussy grip his cock. "It looks fantastic," he grunted.

Your response was unintelligible but enthusiastic, so he kept going until he was close and your legs were shaking. The blowjob you gave him earlier seemed to take the edge off, because as soon as he started rubbing soft circles on your clit, you came for him, but he wasn't quite there yet. He slowed his pace down, let himself enjoy the feel of you shaking and squeezing him. He could have probably gone longer, but then you turned and looked up at him over your shoulder.

"That was so good," you said with a shaky voice, "I saw stars."

"Oh hell." He came inside you as you chewed on your lip and looked at him like you'd never get enough. "Come here." You stood with your back pressed against him while he was still buried deep. "You want to snuggle?"

"Always," you whispered as he peppered kisses to your shoulder. And then the two of you ended up on the couch, and it was sweet again as you curled up mostly on top of him while he drew shapes on your palm.

And that's how the whole weekend was. On Saturday, the two of you spent a few windswept hours on the beach, wrapped in a blanket together, talking and laughing. But after the sun set and the sky turned that pretty pretty color that looked both blue and orange at the same time, your lips found his.

"Gorgeous," he groaned, hands on your thighs, feeling your warmth through your jeans.

"I love you," came your immediate response, and Bradley could barely contain himself. He wanted everything with you, but he was afraid of moving any faster than this already pretty blistering pace. But even thinking about the nights this week when he'd have to fall asleep without you and wake up alone were creeping into the back of his mind.

He pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, "I love you too, Gorgeous. And I'm just going to say this one time, and then I'll let you bring it up again if you feel like it."When he paused, you said, "Okay," in a soft voice, and he took a deep breath.

"If we ever reach a point where you think you want to move in with me, that would make me very happy. You already have a key now, but if you want it to be even more permanent, I would love that."

"Oh," you gasped, and he suddenly wished he hadn't said anything about it. "My lease ends in January."

"January," he repeated, like it was a word he was unfamiliar with.

"Mmhmm. In about two months." You kissed his cheek and wrapped his hand up in yours. "That seems reasonable, don't you think?"

Bradley let you push his shoulder playfully until he was laying on his back, and then you were in his arms just like you were on the first date. "Yeah, that seems reasonable," he whispered as the sound of your soft laughter mingled with the crashing waves.

"At least give me a chance to test out the commute to work," you said with a kiss.

"I'm not in a hurry, Gorgeous. I'm just in love."

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

You didn't get home from Bradley's house on Sunday night until almost eleven, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it. He helped you grade your quizzes, and he read over your lesson plans like it was a bestselling novel. Then he made you a snack after dinner and went over the plans for the field trip.

"I'll take care of everything this week," he had promised. "I'll get visitor's badges for everyone, and you'll just need to go through the security checkpoints when you arrive. Your kids will have a blast. Just wait until they get to watch Marty work on an engine rebuild."

"The kids are going to lose their minds when they see your Super Hornet," you had promised. "And I will, too. I was already falling for you when you sent me the cockpit photos, and now I'm head over heels."

After that, Bradley carefully folded up your lesson plans and put them in your bag while you tried to hide your smile. And that's why you got home so late. Because the two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other for more than a minute.

But it made for a long Monday. And your Tuesday wasn't much better. By Wednesday, even the phone calls and texts with Bradley were barely enough to keep you going. You hated thinking about his next deployment, but it was always at the back of your mind. He wanted you to move in with him, but even his beautiful house in Coronado wouldn't save you from feeling devastatingly lonely the next time he was on an aircraft carrier. Nothing would.

He told you he wanted to drive up and spend the night with you on Wednesday, but he was yawning nonstop over the phone, and you knew he would have to get up earlier if he came up to your apartment. "You sound as exhausted as I feel, and I'm going to see you in the morning anyway," you told him as you curled up in your bed." Actually all nineteen of us are going to see you in the morning."

"I love my pen pals," he said with a laugh. Then he repeated your words from so many weeks ago. "Do you still want me to kiss you as soon as I see you?"

"Bradley," you moaned, rolling onto your side. You were melting, and he wasn't even here. "I always want that."

"Good, because I don't think I could... Oh shit!" he shouted, and it sounded like he dropped his phone.

"What's wrong?" you asked, jolting up in your bed. "Bradley?"

"No, no, no," came his voice, but you could tell he wasn't right next to his phone speaker. He actually sounded scared, but you couldn't fathom what could possibly be going on, and then he said, "There's a fucking spider on my bedroom wall!"

"Oh," you replied, letting out the breath you'd been holding.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?! Why aren't you here?!"

"Bradley, just squish it with some paper towels," you told him, trying not to laugh at his panicked voice.

"You want me to take my eyes off this fucking thing to go to the kitchen? I don't think so!"

You pressed your lips together and composed yourself before asking, "How big is it?"

"It's huge! The size of a quarter!" he shouted. "It's moving!"

"Bradley, pick up one of your boots or a shoe and smash it," you told him as calmly as you could. "You can do this."

"Okay. Okay, right. Yeah," he said, and his voice sounded even more distant. "I can do this." There was a terribly loud thump, and then he said, "I hate this so much."

"Is it dead?" you asked cautiously.

"Yeah, but I'm too scared to sleep in here now. What if its family shows up for revenge in the middle of the night?"

You snorted and collapsed back onto your pillow. "That seems a little dramatic."

"Does it?" he asked. "Because this is something you should be taking care of for me. I'll take care of anything else, but this one thing is on you, Baby."

You started to pull your shirt off as you asked, "Would you feel better if I sent you another dirty photo?"

"I would feel a lot better if you sent me a dirty photo," he said, and now you could tell he was smiling.

"Hmm... you think you'll be able to get some sleep if I do?" you asked, tossing your shirt aside.

"A full eight hours."

You held your phone up, smiled sweetly, and snapped a picture. "Let me know when you get it," you said as you texted it to him.

A few seconds later, you giggled as he groaned. "Got it. You look like perfection, and I love adding these to my top secret folder," he muttered. "Thank you."

Now you were yawning as you pulled your sheet up to your chin. "You're welcome. I'll see you in ten hours. I love you."

"Love you, Baby."

-------------------------- You thought you were prepared for the field trip to North Island. You had bus snacks, and responsible chaperones. You had copies of all of the required paperwork that the Navy insisted you fill out ahead of time in a folder. You even had a list of all of your kids for the guard station officer which Bradley reminded you to bring. But nothing could have actually prepared you for the excitement that all nineteen of you clearly felt when the school bus pulled up to the gates with the airstrip directly in front of you.

"Whoa!" said Jayden, trying to hang out the window for a better view. "There's a jet taking off!"

All of your kids scrambled to the right side of the bus to get a better look, and you did too. The aftermath of the takeoff was loud, and you signaled for everyone to cover their ears as they all watched the aircraft soar into the sun.

"Do you think that was Lieutenant Bradshaw?" Nia asked excitedly as your heart raced.

"No," you replied as you watched the jet fly off into the distance. "He said he would meet us after we parked in the visitors lot." When the bus started moving up to the guards, you waved your hand for everyone to sit down again. "But if you're all really well behaved, I'm sure there will be some surprises for us today!"

When it was your turn to talk to the guards, you climbed out of the bus and handed over all of your paperwork. They double and triple checked everything. As they looked at your school ID and driver's license, one of them said, "This location requires top clearances. We hardly ever see field trip groups. Someone on base must really like you."

You thought about Bradley and his kisses and his couch and how he wanted you there to share his bed and always take care of the spiders. "Yeah, that's pretty accurate," you told him with a smile, and he handed you a bundle of lanyards. Hanging from each one was a visitor's pass for each of your students as well as four for you and the chaperones. "Thank you."

Even as you handed each kid their pass and told them they needed to wear them at all times, your heart raced in anticipation. They were all looking back at you with wide-eyed excitement; these were the faces of kids who had learned a lot in your classroom already this year. They were as eager to learn more about aviation today as they were months ago, and you were so happy that Bradley had been a big part of this whole experience.

As the bus driver parked, you saw your boyfriend through the window, standing tall next to the building. He was in his flight suit, and his back was ramrod straight. There were two other officers with him, and they had even more pins on their uniforms than you remembered seeing on his. You needed to reel in your expectations, especially in front of the men who you assumed were Bradley's bosses. But when you smiled, Bradley smiled back. And when you led your students down the steps and over to the sidewalk, his posture relaxed.

"Welcome to North Island," he told your kids with a grin. Then he looped one arm around your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you in front of everyone. "I can't wait to show you everything."

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

The field trip of my dreams! Okay, so we are definitely going to see Marty at work, but what else should the kids get to experience? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 16

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[yandere-daydreams]

Hear me out hear me out on this concept idea

Southern gothic small town pastor Geto AU

tw - non/con, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, financial abuse via organized religion, and implied kidnapping.

wait that would actually be so hot of him actually.

i don't know what is about geto but he just,,, radiates scummy religious figure energy to such an atrocious degree. like, couldn't you just imagine him moving from small town to small town, posing as a country-values pastor to scam his ever-growing congregation out of their life's savings and retirement funds before smuggling himself away and moving on to fresher meat? if he works quickly, the whole operation takes a little less than six months, and he's got such a charming smile and such a soothing voice - no one's ever so much as thought twice about trusting him, not really, not unless they wanted to be the next town outcast.

well, no one aside from you, of course.

it's cute - just how suspicious you are of the man who has your chronically truant parents sitting in the front row of his chapel twenty minutes early. you'll tell anyone who's got the time to listen that you don't like his hollow expressions, that you don't find his sermon-topics appropriate, that you don't trust how quickly he showed up after your last pastor suddenly went missing. no one listens to you, of course. you burnt that bridge when you decided to move away to some big, new-age city and attend some expensive, self-aggrandizing university. like him, you'll only be in town for a few months, just until the start of your next semester, but unlike him, you actually care about what's going to happen to your neighbors after you leave. the fact that you stopped going to church entirely after he took over doesn't help. in a town like this, you might as well be signing the warrant for your own social exile.

you make an effort to keep your distance, but he just can't seem to pay you the same courtesy. in a town like yours, it's can be hard not to run into familiar faces, especially when he seems to stop in at the general store where you picked up a summer job every other day, when he mentions to your mother that they could really use an extra pair of hands at the church's monthly bake sale or tells your father that he might want to bring a helper the next time he comes to fix up a few things around the sanctuary. you're always so flustered around him, always so brooding - like you think someone's going to believe you just because you cross your arms and pout. he savors any chance he gets to touch you - whether it's his hand ghosting over the small of your back as he moves past you in a narrow hall or your body pressing into his after he forgoes your offered handshake in favor of a nice, tight, neighborly hug.

and, when you come to him, he thinks he might finally know why people try so hard to get into heaven. it goes without saying that you're irate, shouting at him from the steps of his parsonage as you demand he return the tens of thousands of dollars that your mother so generously donated early that day, but it's not hard to convince you to come inside, to get a glass of wine into your hand under the pretense that, if you really drove all this way just to yell at him, it's the least you deserve. things devolve from there - your glass looks a little empty, why doesn't he top you off while you tell him what a terrible person he is? you've already finished that bottle, but he's got a gorgeous vintage red, and you're just starting to slur - he's sure it'll be fine. and, oh, well, you're far too drunk to drive yourself home, but don't worry, his bed's big enough to share. and oh, look at that, don't you feel lucky to wake up naked and sore in an unfamiliar bed, the handsome young pastor's cock still buried inside of you? he's sure your parents will be elated when you two tell them about your new engagement (because, of course, you can't just sleep with your local pastor and expect to come out of it without a ring on your finger, can you?), even if you seem a little upset right now.

it's only as he watches you sob into his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist and his cum still dripping out of you, that he decides he might be able to stay in this particular small town for a few more months. just long enough to find a way to take you with him, when he leaves.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Free Use Jail Cell, Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: you're arrested and held for 24 hours by 8 police officers at the local police station / reader has her fantasy play out.

Word Count: 3k (part 1)

Chapter Summary: Officer Seo Changbin arrests you and has some one on one time with you before taking you to the station. You meet the other officers. (This chapter is Changbin focused, but a little bit happens at the end with the other officers.)

a/n: This fic will be in multiple parts because I get too impatient not to share what I’ve written so far. There will be two, possibly three installments turns out it will be more like 6 (tag list is open).

I refer to the officers as “Officer Hyunjin”, “Officer Minho” etc just to make it quick to identify the characters. 

The whole premise is planned and explained in the fic. The story is purely fantasy, but please be mindful of content warnings, as it has potentially triggering content. I want you to be safe here on my blog.

CW: planned fantasy role play, police arrest, nudity, unprotected sex in a semi public space, pain kink, roleplay pain, anal play, blow jobs, cum eating, name calling (both praising and degrading), reference to sexual acts, imprisonment, restraints (handcuffing).

🚨🚨🚨🚨

The lights of the police patrol car reflect in your rear view mirror, signaling for you to stop your car.

“Dammit.” You sigh as you pull your car over to the side of the road.

You watch in your side mirror as a police officer emerges from his patrol car, and your heart rate increases when you see the well built figure approach your window. 

“Everything okay, Officer?” You say innocently.

“I’m gonna need you step out of the vehicle, Ma'am.” He says sternly.

“But I wasn’t speeding.” You protest as he opens your car door and pulls you out.

“Ouch! You’re hurting me!” You writhe against him, but he’s too strong.

“No. But you’ve just resisted arrest, so you’re in big trouble little bunny.” He slams you front first against the side of your car and proceeds to handcuff your hands around your back.

“You’ve got the wrong woman, Dude!” You cry.

“That’s Officer Seo Changbin, to you.” He tears you away from your car abruptly and tugs you towards his police car. “In.” He throws you in the back of the car like a rag doll.

“But my car!” You wail, as he slams the door and hops into the driver’s seat.

“Shh. It’ll be impounded. Now not another word.”

“But you haven’t read me my rights! You can’t do this!”

But Officer SEO Changbin ignores you as he drives away.

After half an hour of you demanding he explain what you’ve actually been arrested for, and half an hour of being met with silence, Officer Changbin pulls off the main road and parks his car in a deserted space under a bridge.

Alarm bells go off in your head as you look around. The area is absolutely deserted. You frantically try to formulate a plan to escape. But even if you did escape, you’re fucking handcuffed.

The Officer opens the back door and slips in beside you, holding a tablet and stylus. “Y/n. Twenty five. Female. Submitted a ‘free use jail fantasy’. That is you, is it not?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

You stare at the man, but remain silent. Isn’t that one of your rights?

Changbin sighs. “This is your contract. I need you to understand the terms of our engagement.”

He holds the tablet in front of you so you can read exactly what you signed yourself up for. 

I, y/n, agree to being held prisoner in a police station setting, where eight men have the right to use my body how they see fit. This includes: degradation, humiliation, spanking, oral sex, vaginal penetration, anal penetration (includes use of fingers), double penetration, rough sex, use of props and restraints. 

Please read below for further details.

You scroll through the rest of the pages. Details of the acts that may take place, photos of the men and their role, special interests and skills. They are fucking handsome as hell too.

What the fuck have you signed up for? It sounded good in your head. It sounded good when you applied. But now it’s real.. You gulp and look at the Officer. 

“Sign here.” He points to the space at the bottom of page 12.

“Umm…”  you nudge your head towards your restraints.

“Oh yes of course.” Changbin releases your cuffs, opting to secure them in front of you instead. You take the stylus and sign on the dotted line.

You only live once right?

“Great. So as of now you belong to us. Well, for the next 24 hours.” He says matter of fact.

You suck on your lower lip. “So, like right now you could get me to do…things?” You say in a small voice.

“Yes, that’s right. I could instruct you to do things. Or, I could just do things to you. Free use, remember?” He takes the tablet from you and places it next to him in the seat. Your eyes fall on his thick bicep and you feel an ache between your legs. He sits back, slouching against the backseat, and his eyes drop to your bare leg.

A heavy silence fills the car. 

Changbin reaches out to squeeze your thigh, just above your knee and you hold your breath as his hand slowly slides up under your skirt.

“Show me your panties.” He whispers, lifting your skirt up. You open your legs for him. 

His plush, pink lips part slightly.  “Take them off.” He instructs.

You shimmy your panties off and wait for your next instructions. 

“Unbuckle my belt.”

The chain of the handcuffs rattling, and his heavy breaths are the only sounds as you bring your hands to his belt. “Uunzip my pants and take out my cock.”

Your heart begins to race, and your mouth becomes dry, as anticipation and fear bubble in your stomach. Your fingers shake as you unzip his fly and pull his length through the opening of his boxers. Fuck, he is so thick. Your eyes flick up to his.

“Suck it.” He says, staring at you.

You take a deep breath and bring your mouth closer to the fat tip, wondering you you’d even be able to stretch your mouth around it. You kiss the slit. Changbin hisses. “Don’t tease.” He says with a gravely tone. 

You swirl your tongue around the tip, then along the shaft, moistening it up. But Changbin is impatient, and he presses his hand on the back of your head, indicating that he’s had enough of your chaste ministrations.

You stretch your mouth around his girth and sink your head down over him. God, he’s not going to fit. You’re going to choke. 

“C’mon, deeper.” He pushes your head, coaxing you to take more of him. Your eyes immediately water, but you do your very best to suck him enthusiastically.

You feel his hand slide down your back and over your ass. You whimper when he lifts your skirt up and he spanks you on the ass. “Deeper.” He moans. 

You lift off and take a big breath before taking him back in your mouth, forcing yourself to take even more of him. His fingers finds your pussy, sliding them  through your wet folds. He gathers some of your arousal and brings the pad of his finger to your asshole. 

“Hmm… you feel like you’re gonna be so tight. The boys are going to have fun stretching out this little thing. You won’t be able to sit for a week.” He chuckles. 

You moan at the thought, excited to be used.

Changbin’s finger breaches the tight ring of muscle as he presses inside. It’s just to the first knuckle but it’s making you hungry for more.

“That’s enough for now.” He decides, withdrawing his finger and pulling your mouth off his cock. You sit up whining at the loss. “Are we going to go to the police station now?” You inquire.

Changbin scoffs. “Greedy little thing. Can’t wait for what’s in store for you.” He strokes your tear stained cheek. “We’ll go soon. But not until you ride me. Climb on.” He nods towards his cock. “I want first feel of your pussy.”

You straddle Officer Changbin, wrapping your still cuffed hands around his neck, and he holds his cock steady for you as you lower yourself down on him. “Fuck!” You squeak as you feel the tip against your entrance. “You’re so big Officer. I’m not sure I can take you.” 

You swallow, looking into his eyes. There’s lust there. You can see it. He looks like he could hurt you, but there’s a kindness in his expression too, and you wonder if the other men will be like him?

“If you can’t take my cock, how are you gonna take two at once?” He whispers. “Sit on it. I want to feel your walls wrapped around my dick.”

“What if I say no? What happens?” You challenge him.”

“‘No’s not your safe word.” He grips your hips and slowly lowers you down onto his length. “Just keep your eyes on me, sweet thing. Shhh. I know Binnie’s thick.”

You shake your head. “It’s too big.” 

“It’s gonna feel good. I promise. Let me stretch your tight little walls.” He breathes against your cheek.

You feel yourself stretching for him, slowly relaxing to accommodate his size. Inch by inch you feel him fill you. 

“You are tight aren’t you? Fuck, like a vice.” He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breath.

You push yourself down all the way and pause. 

Changbin opens his eyes again and lifts your skirt so he can see where you’re impaled on him.

“See. Look at that.” He says in awe. Your eyes follow his as you lift up slightly and lower yourself again, watching him disappear inside you. 

“Bounce on me. Show me what a good little girl you are, and I’ll put in a good word in my report.”

He digs his hands into your ass cheeks, spreading them and using his grip on them to bounce you.

“I need you to scream for me. No one’s gonna hear you, but I want you to scream your lungs out anyway.”

He grips you tighter, and as though you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and slams you down. You cry out. “Again!” He growls as he slides you up his cock, and drops you back down. “Scream.”

You cry out, screaming loudly.

“Hurts doesn’t it, bunny?” He uses his hips to fuck up into you ferociously.

“N-no…feels goo-”

“Say it hurts. Scream like it hurts.” He growls and throws  you off him and pushes your face into the car seat. He lifts your hips to meet his cock and thrusts into you forcefully. Every thrust is deep and hard. Your pussy feels stretched to its limits. 

He’s relentless, pounding into you harder and harder. The sound of your bodies colliding filling the car. The windows are steamed up, and you're certain the car is rocking wildly.

“Stop… please… too hard…it hurts…” you scream. But you don’t use your safe word. It actually feels incredible.

“Is Binnie too much, hmm? Poor little cunt struggling to fit me?” He mocks you.

You scream louder. He picks up the pace. 

“Fuck…I’m coming!!!” You let out the loudest scream your lungs can muster, as you clench your walls around Changbin’s cock.

“That’s it, so nice and loud for me.”  He helps you ride out your orgasm and then withdraws from your still quivering cunt.

“Good, compliant little bunny. Come, drink up.” He strokes your hair as he helps you turn around so you can wrap your lips around his cock again. He pumps the length a few times until you feel his hot, thick cum coat your tongue. 

“Open. Show me.” The tilts your chin as you present to him your mouth full of semen. “Swallow it up for me.”

You keep your eyes locked on him as you swallow the thick, salty substance, and then open back up to show him.

“Good girl. We need to get you into your cell.” He smirks and gets back into the front of the car.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

It’s almost dark when you get to the police station and you’re feeling incredibly nervous about what lies ahead. 

Changbin helps you get out of the vehicle, leaving your panties on the floor, and escorts you up the front steps of the building. It actually looks like a real police station too, and you wonder how on earth they managed to have access to this place.

The seven other men are waiting for you. They eagerly stand up from their desks as Changbin walks you past until you reach the cell at the far end of the room.

“In.” He grunts, removing your handcuffs and pushing you inside and slamming the door closed behind you. You quickly take in your surroundings. There’s absolutely nothing in your cell except a mattress with two folded blankets on top.

“So this is the sweet thing we have to break?” One of the men jeers. 

“This will be fun.” Another adds.

You turn back towards the men, who are all lined up on the other side of the bars. They watch you. So many eyes. On you. Some look mean. Others look kind. You recognise each of them from the photos, and you know from your research you need to watch out for the ones named Seungmin and Minho. 

“Y/n. Come meet the officers.” The Chef, Chan you believe his name is, says firmly.

You take a step forward.

“No.” He stops you. “First, strip.” 

“Oh!” You squeak. You hesitate. Are you really ready for this? But there’s something thrilling about this situation, and you know, deep down, even though you’re nervous, scared even, you don’t want to stop. Your hands tremble as they grasp the hem of your top and you pull it over your head. Leaving your top half In merely a flimsy sheer bra.

“Fuck. She’s hot.” One of them men whistle under his breath.

“The skirt too..” Chan barks.

“B-but-“ you remember you’re not wearing underwear.

“Skirt. Off. I don’t like repeating myself.” Chan snaps.

You lower your eyes as you peel your skirt down and let drop it to the floor.

“No panties. What a slut.” Minho smirks.

You can feel all eyes on your bare pussy. 

“Look at the officers before you y/n.”

You lift your head and look at the men.  

“For the next twenty four hours these men own your body. They want your cunt? You let them have it. They want to fuck your ass? It’s theirs. They want to take you two at a time? Tie you up, use restraints? You do not resist. They feel they need to punish you? You take it willingly. They want to degrade you, humiliate you?” 

Seungmin laughs at that.

“They can. If they want to treat you nice, be sweet, they’re allowed to do that too. But you don’t come without permission. They control your orgasms.”

Chan basically recites  your submission request back to you.

“Alright. Come forward to meet the officers who will be taking good care of you over the next twenty four hours.” 

You take a step forward. “On your knees.” Chan corrects you.

You drop to your knees, the floor is cold and hard, and you crawl over to where the men wait.

The one named Minho comes forward and presents his erect cock to you, sliding it through the bars. “Come say hello, kitten.” He says coldly.

You look up at him as you wrap your mouth around him, and he immediately takes hold of the back of your head to keep it still while he fucks your mouth. You hear several belts being unbuckled around you.

So this is the introductions then?

“Changbin and I will leave you to it.” Chan informs the group and he and Changbin leave you with the remaining six officers.

From what you can tell from the way Minho holds your head and watches you with intense eyes, is that the man can read your limits. He pushes in just enough to make you gag, but not quite making you choke. His rhythm is smooth and consistent, and when he cums you know he’s holding back a pretty moan. He’s definitely a dom, but one that really understands a sub.

Felix, the pretty and gentle blond, is careful with your face, he doesn’t push too far, and he lets you use your hand on him. But there’s a glimmer in his eye that tells you he doesn’t mind the kinkier side of things, or that he might like seeing you in pain.

Hyunjin. He doesn’t even have to speak and he’s got you blushing. Just the way he’s looking at you, his tongue licking his pretty lips, has you dripping down your legs. The man is beautiful, sensual, and  the way he’s working with you as you work his cock, moving with your mouth and hand, makes you believe he finds sex to be about connection. You’re not entirely sure how that will play out.

Jeongin. Seems sweet and innocent, but his entire expression changes to demonic once his tip hits your throat. You’re not sure what he has in store for you, but you know it’s not going to sweet, and you find yourself imagining all sorts of scenarios with him.

Jisung is next. Confident, demanding with his cock. Mumbles “slut” a few times, and thrusts his hips erratically. He’s unpredictable, and you splutter when he pushes far too deep for you. A flicker of fear and concern crosses his features, and you get the urge to help him stay in the character he’s trying to portray. You moan enthusiastically, and he quickly recovers, fucking you without restraint.

Seungmin is last. He’s cruel with his words, and careless with his thrusts. He’s energy is cold, and you know that if you need to be punished, he’s the guy to give it to you. That is until he comes back with an oversized shirt and a tray of food, and asks you if you have any questions about the agreement.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

You sit alone in your cell and eat your dinner, wondering what the night will hold. You don’t have to wait long though, because Chan is walking towards your cell. 

“Y/n. It’s time for your interrogation with Detective Minho and Officer Seungmin.”

Fuck.

↣↣ up next, interrogation time with 2min here

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[freedomfireflies]

Off the Shelf*

Summary: The second part to 404*

The one where you hate working with Harry and can’t ever seem to agree.

Except on one thing.

Word Count: 3.9k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)

“And what seems to be the problem?”

Instantly, you and Harry are at each other's throats.

“I told him two fucking times to check his email for confirmation—”

“She wouldn’t shut up about the goddamn code—”

“—like that’s somehow my fault when he’s never on time—”

“—already in the middle of fucking rewriting the last sequence—”

“—which is ridiculous because I already told him—”

“—can’t do fucking anything when she’s yapping in my ear all goddamn day—”

“Okay, okay, all right,” Mr. Prescott sighs, raising his palms in surrender. “Let’s just take a breath—”

“She’s fucking up our project,” Harry interjects before leaning back. “Sir.”

Mr. Prescott rests his arms on his desk and glances between you. “From what I remember, the two of you agreed to work on finalizing the AI program. Comb through the bugs and whatnot.”

“Yeah, well, that was before he decided it was a waste of his time,” you retort, ignoring Harry’s obvious glare.

“That’s not what I said,” he huffs. “I said that we need to be working on expanding the GUI—”

“Except that wasn’t a part of our job, so—”

“Oh, and what? I can’t try to make the program better?”

“Maybe if you knew how—”

“I got hired for the same fucking job you did—”

“A job you don’t even want to do—”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t do it—”

“Oh, bite me, Harold—”

“All right, all right,” Mr. Prescott interjects, running a hand down his cheek. “Listen, the two of you are more than qualified for the position and perfectly capable of executing the sequence you were designing. I understand it can be hard to collaborate, but this is what you agreed on—”

“I don’t mind collaborating as long as he does what I need him to do,” you correct while Harry scoffs and uses his knuckle to shove his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “He just doesn’t like to listen.”

“If what you were saying was worth listening to, maybe I would,” he agrees. “But until then, I’d like to handle my shit and you can handle yours.”

Stuck without much dispute, you bring your attention back to Mr. Prescott, eager for his response. 

The poor, older gentleman crosses his arms and studies you both, seemingly unconvinced but perhaps too exhausted to fight it. “That’s fine by me. As long as you’re reporting your progress to your supervisors – and to each other – I don’t see why you can’t work on different aspects of the sequence.”

“Thank you, sir,” you exhale, glancing toward your partner who’s already turning around on his heel. “Uh, we really appreciate it. And we won’t cause any more trouble. We swear.”

“She swears,” Harry calls, already halfway out the door. “I don’t swear anything.”

Biting back a snort, you scurry after him and toss Mr. Prescott one final, “Thank you again!” before the door falls shut.

Harry is rounding the corner when you finally catch up, hands shoved into his dark jean pockets, and shoulders slightly tense. It’s not unusual, you suppose. He’s always tense. Muscles rigid beneath his clothing. Lip perpetually stuck between his teeth as he gnaws on the pink fibers until they tear and bleed. And glasses that are always about halfway down his nose from the bouncing of his knee.

He’s striding through the lab like he’s got somewhere important to be, and it drives you fucking mad because he’s technically done for the day. The only thing the two of you have left is a staff meeting with your supervisor before everybody is allowed to head home, and that shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.

But you don’t like when he walks like that. You aren’t sure why, but it’s always irritated you. Like he thinks he’s so goddamn special – so important. Like his presence is so valuable. And even worse, he’s always walking away from you. Like your presence isn’t.

However, instead of going straight to his desk – his favorite hiding spot – he rounds another corner and disappears into the next hall.

You pause, unsure whether or not to follow. He had to have known you were right behind him, so is he leading you somewhere? Or is he simply trying to escape you?

Either option seems likely.

Curiosity outweighs logic, and you continue after him until you manage to find where he’s disappeared to.

He’s hiding in the shadows of the abandoned walkway, lurking near a door you don’t recognize, his eyes now on you.

You skid to a stop, confused and a little cautious of the smirk on his face. “Uh…what? What are you…the hell are you doing?”

“You are so fucking annoying, you know that?” he scoffs, nodding his chin at you. “‘Oh, Mr. Prescott, Harry’s being mean to me. Oh, Mr. Prescott, Harry won’t do what I want.’”

Your eyes narrow at the falsetto tone of voice used to mock you. “Fuck you, I’m just trying to get our shit done and over with so we can move on—”

“Clearly,” he hums, but it’s riddled with sarcasm. “No, yeah. You wasting time going through the same data I’ve already been through is a great use of our time—”

“I’m going through it because I’m trying to make it better—”

“I made it. It was already better—”

“God, you are so fucking dumb—”

“Yeah, and you’re a cunt,” he retorts before he’s reaching for the door and swinging it open. “Get in.”

A bit stunned by the sudden and strange command, you blink. “...what?”

“I said, get. In. What, are you deaf and stupid?”

“Harry, it’s the middle of the goddamn day—”

“Get in the fucking closet, Tinkerbell, before I come over there and make you.”

Your eyes roll but you aren’t about to pretend you aren’t intrigued. Despite your revulsion for him, he seems to be in possession of the cheat code to your sex drive. All it takes is a look or a suggestive comment (or a rather rude demand for you to get inside a tiny storage closet) for you to fall victim to his intentions.

And it’s been that way since you met him. 

Which only makes it that much more infuriating.

You obey – with a pointed scowl – striding past him and into the small space as he follows suit and pulls the door shut.

A light flickers on overhead, allowing you to see Harry’s amused expression as you huff, “Now what—”

He kisses you. Instantly and without a single moment of pause. His palms quickly press to the wall beside your head, caging you between his arms as he takes your tongue between his lip and sucks. 

His glasses are cold against your face. You remember how they used to scratch you when the two of you first started this little arrangement but they don’t as much anymore. You think he might have changed the frames for this very reason, but you aren’t sure.

After all, that would be nice, and Harry isn’t nice.

“Harry—” you pant during a quick gasp for air. “We don’t have time—”

“I’m making time,” he counters, pressing his hips into yours while his mouth moves to your neck.

You want to snort your exasperation, but you’re too far lost in the feel of his body. “I thought you had shit to handle.”

“I do,” he replies smoothly, his hand now curving around your cunt until he can squeeze it tight in his grasp. “This is me handling my shit.”

His touch is unforgiving but incredibly welcome, and you whine softly before quickly reaching for his hair. “I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he says, sucking bruises into the space below your ear. “But there’s something about the way you stomp your little foot and tell on me that gets me all hot and bothered.”

You yank on his curls until he hisses, although he’s still much too smug. “So this has nothing to do with the girl who dropped by earlier? Or the fact that you apparently couldn’t finish?”

His eyebrow raises but he’s biting back a smile. “What girl?”

“Ha. Very funny. Are you gonna fuck me or are you gonna try to be cute?”

“Why can’t I do both?” he retorts, grinning wildly before pressing his lips to yours once more. 

It feels familiar, this routine. This dance you’ve so quickly memorized, and it becomes increasingly easier to play along as you scratch your nails against his scalp and tug on the loop of his pants.

His hand slips into your jeans, the tips of his rough fingers smoothing down the front of your panties. A teasing touch, and you jolt in his hold before grabbing onto him harder.

“Harry,” you sigh, lashes fluttering as your head falls back into the wall behind you. “God, just…hurry. Please—”

“No.” It’s an easy response. Cruel, almost. But he’s focused on you. On your body and the way it responds to him. “I’m working right now, Tink. Leave me to it.”

He crouches down, pulling on the fabric around your legs until it pools near your ankles. He seems tantalized by the way your pussy sits so close to his face. The way it looks behind the pale blue cotton with the tiny bow. 

He surges forward and presses his mouth to you. Lapping at the material until there’s a rather obvious wet patch – either from you or him, you can’t really be sure – while making your eyes roll back.

“Shit,” you whimper, once again grabbing onto his curls for stability. “God, Harry…we don’t have time for this.”

He smirks against your cunt before dragging his tongue over your covered clit. “D’ya want me to stop?”

Your lips form around the word, “Yes,” but what comes out is a very strained and breathless, “No. Please, no.”

He grins, large palms kneading on the flesh of your thighs to keep them spread before he lands a firm smack to your leg. “Good girl.”

His technique is sinful. Ruthless yet mesmeric, and you look at him with a kind of wonder you can’t explain.

Harry isn’t anything like what you expected. He’s incredibly smart and focused. He cares about his work to a point of obsession. He’s a perfectionist, through and through. He’s diligent and has a great attention for detail.

And yet this man has the most insatiable appetite for sex. 

His list of kinks is a mile long. He’s out almost every night at bars, at clubs, at parties. He likes degradation, he likes pain, he likes bondage. He likes to bend you over your desk and spank you until your skin is raw and red. He likes to yank on your hair and drag his teeth down your throat. He likes to go deep – likes to go hard and slow. 

You aren’t sure why you assumed he’d be docile and a bit vanilla in bed. Perhaps it was the glasses or the way he always corrected your grammar. Which you know wasn’t exactly a fair assumption, but you didn’t have much else to go on.

Well…until the first time.

“You’re holding your breath,” he murmurs from beneath you, forcing your attention back. “Stop doing that.”

Sucking in a quiet inhale, you oblige. “Sorry.”

You have a rather dangerous habit of taking in large gasps for air when he’s eating you out or making you feel good and then forgetting to release them. Which is all fun and games until you begin to feel a bit lightheaded and nearly pass out. In fact, one time you almost did, and it had scared Harry so bad, he refused to touch you for about a week.

Glancing up to make sure you’ve obeyed, he nods once. “Attagirl.”

Your cheeks warm slightly at the praise – another nasty habit you wish you could break – before he’s diving back in.

Despite the way the seconds are ticking by on your watch, Harry continues to revel in the taste of you, even through your panties. He hums until your legs shake, head bobbing to accompany his mouthing at your pussy.

He enjoys eating you, even like this. He always has and you can’t say you quite understand it. Perhaps it’s the power it gives him. The way you whine and whimper. The way you grab at him and give him everything you have to offer. The way you fucking hate him…yet you still let him in.

“Harry, please,” you nearly groan, tugging on him again. “If you’re gonna fuck me, then fuck me already. We don’t have time.”

He makes a tsking sort of noise before nudging his tongue against the front of your underwear. “God, you’re no fucking fun, you know that? And to think I was actually gonna take my time with you.”

Your expression is playfully unamused, but you can’t deny you’re somewhat curious.

He lands another spank to your leg and stands back up. “But that’s not what you want, huh? You just want me to be quick. Want me to fill you up and send you on your way. Don’t want me to play with you.”

You watch as he flicks his belt open and steps closer to you, a rather salacious look in his eye.

“And wouldn’t that be a shame?” he whispers, long fingers sweeping up the inside of your thigh. “For you to go into that meeting with my cum dripping down your leg? When you can’t do anything about it?”

You feel your breath catch, throat going dry at the way he drags the tip of his nose along your jaw. You want to resist him – you should resist him. And yet… 

“Maybe it would be,” you reply coyly. “If you could get it up.”

To accompany your taunt, you reach down and press your palm to his cock, smirking when he sucks in a sharp hiss through gritted teeth.

“Seems you’ve gone soft on me,” you murmur, squeezing once more for good measure before releasing him. “That’s the real shame.”

The hand beside your head smacks against the wall. “S’cute, Tink. Real fucking cute—”

“Is it because of her?” you ask, straightening up until you can ghost your lips along his. Close, but not close enough. “Could she not take your tiny, little dick down her throat?”

You notice the way he swallows. The way the muscles in his arm flex beside you. The way his lashes flutter angrily from behind his glasses.

“Or could you not get yourself off?” You reach for him again. He's already beginning to harden from your touch – your voice – and despite yourself, your ego swells. “Was it when you were fucking your fist in your car this morning? Were you thinking about her? Is that why you couldn’t get hard?”

Something finally snaps, and instantly, you feel his fingers slipping around your throat. Just hard enough to make you grin. “What if I was thinking about you?”

“Mm. I don’t think so. Said it yourself. If you’re thinking about me…you’re always hard.”

He’s amused by this, squeezing your neck before surging forward to kiss you again. “Naughty little Tinkerbell.”

You smile.

With this, he spins you around and tosses you toward the empty and somewhat dusty bookcase in the corner of the closet. His touch is firm and unrelenting. Perhaps even a little cruel. The way he tugs on your hips as though to punish you. The way he shoves you until you’re bent over the shelf, allowing him access to your body like it’s his right.

And you don’t mind. This is the kind of dominance you’ve come to expect from the quiet yet horny man you work with.

Your underwear is yanked to the ground, the sound of a ripping stitch echoing throughout the small space. You frown but you don’t comment.

His palm smooths along your pussy, cupping it somewhat gently before his thumb flicks across your clit. He just wants to see you jump. Make you whine and push back into his touch. 

You hear him chuckle. “Easy, princess. Gotta make sure you’re ready first.”

“I’m ready, just go,” you huff, staring down at the dust beneath you. 

His finger slides inside your cunt, feeling you out for only a moment before retreating. “I don’t know. Seem a little tense.”

“If I’m with you, I’m tense,” you retort, making him smile. “Go already.”

“Now, now,” he warns, slipping in a second finger. “You wouldn’t rush Picasso, would you?”

You groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry—”

“What?” He’s enjoying himself. “I’m the painter, and you are my art.”

“No, you’re fucking irritating, that’s what you are.”

“Oh, come on, I thought girls liked sappy analogies like that.”

“No, they like to get fucked. So, hurry up already.”

He lands another smack to your ass before dipping down to whisper, “As you wish.”

You hear the sound of him pulling himself out before you feel the tip of his cock dragging through your arousal. Collecting every drop while slowly pushing in.

He’s right, you are tense. And the stretch that accompanies his large size is enough to make you wince, yet…you love it.

Despite the slight pain, it feels good. Full in every sense of the word, and you focus on the deep breaths you’re taking as your nails begin to curl into the shelf. 

Through clenched teeth, Harry calls, “You okay, Tink?”

“Mhm,” you hum, lashes fluttering shut. “This is easy. In fact, you could go faster, actually.”

He exhales a strained laugh, readjusting his hands on your hips. “Funny.”

“Yeah, I’m hysterical.”

He pushes in a bit further but still slow. He knows your body well enough to know what it can handle. And he understands his size is a touch above average. 

Although he never lets you forget it.

“Being so brave,” he coos with a playful air of condescension. “My brave girl, yeah? Taking it like a champ.”

“Bite me, Styles.”

“Yeah? Just tell me where.”

You get ready to respond, but your remark is ripped from your throat when he suddenly drives in to the hilt. Ripping off the band aid and giving you exactly three seconds to adjust before he begins to fuck you.

The push and pull is everything. The pace, the anger, the pain. His hand is against your scalp, keeping you bent and pliable to his intentions. He’s grunting softly, slowing down just to speed back up. He listens to the noises you make, the way you clench around him. And he uses that to decide what he does next.

Your heart is hammering in your chest and your stomach is doing cartwheels. It’s as though this is the first rush of relief you’ve felt in weeks. Your hands can’t do it. Your vibrator can’t do it. Not even the guy you met at the bar could do it. 

Nobody can do it like he can.

And you fucking hate it.

He lets go of your hair to reach around and slip his hand up your shirt. Finding your tit and giving it a nice squeeze before slapping his palm along the tender flesh. “Oh, you like that, princess, don’t you?”

You nod faintly, whimpering from the subtle sting, silently requesting he do it again. 

So, he does. “S’cute how much you love when I hurt you. Makes me think you might even like me.”

You manage to scoff between unhinged whines. “Shut up, Harry.”

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” he continues. “You like me more than you think you do. That’s why you always do what I ask. Like a good girl.”

You sneak a glimpse over your shoulder, studying the crooked angle of his glasses, and the slight smirk on his face. 

He’s cute, you think. He’s always been kind of cute, but he’s especially cute when he’s ripping you apart from the inside out.

He meets your eye and travels his fingers down to your clit. “Need more, don’t you?”

But you don’t just need more. You need everything. 

He pinches you tight and readjusts his stance to make sure he’s fucking into you at just the right speed. Just the right place to make your back arch and your toes curl. 

“Gonna have to cum for me,” he grits, the graveled request woven between your anxious moans. “You wanted quick, so be fucking quick.”

You nod your agreement, the pleasure at the base of your spine building until it becomes your singular focus. 

You hadn’t realized you were this worked up. Hadn’t anticipated being so close to release after such a short amount of time but maybe Harry was right about something else. Maybe fighting with him is your aphrodisiac.

The first few sparks explode behind your eyelids, taunting you with more as he begins to groan softly from behind you. 

“Fucking shit—” His hips are slapping into your ass, the sound of your arousal being fucked into you by his cock like music to your ears. “There you go, princess. Just like that – keep squeezing me. Yeah…fuck.”

He’s close and you clench around him to get him closer, needing to feel him fill you more than you need air in your lungs. 

When he does, it tips the rest of the dominos. One after the other until everything is falling apart. The warmth of his cum inside of you, the pulsing of his cock in your pussy, the scattering of pleasure between your thighs.

And he sounds so beautiful. Rough and exceedingly desperate. The most perfect, delicious sound and it makes your stomach flip in the most excruciating way. You could listen to him for hours. Could get off to his voice alone, the way he grunts and moans for you. The way he says your name through a heated curse and spanks his hand along your ass.

“S’fucking good, Tink,” he exhales, tightening his hold on your waist to keep you upright and steady. “Milk me, baby, come on. Fucking take it.”

You can feel him dripping down your legs. Can feel the heat and the soreness already settling but you thrive off it. Indulge in the way he takes care of you for a moment more before finally pulling out and turning you around.

He checks your face for signs of distress. Brows furrowed and expression scrutinous from behind his glasses. You can tell he’s got another sarcastic comment locked and loaded but before he can fire it, you reach up, and slip the frames from his nose.

Then, you kiss him. Hard and with fervor. It’s oddly passionate – perhaps filled with the lingering frustration from your previous altercation. But you don’t mind. It feels like him.

After a minute or two, you pop off his tongue, return his glasses to nose, and shove him back. “And now we’re gonna be late.”

He smiles to himself, stepping closer once more to run his thumb just beneath your eye. Collecting what you assume are dried tears and runny mascara. “Oops.”

However, before you can pull your jeans back on, Harry is crouching down and grabbing onto the material for you.

He pulls your panties up and secures them around your hips, ignoring the sticky cum beginning to seep out of your pussy. 

Confused, your eyes narrow. “Har—"

“I told you,” he says calmly while zipping your jeans. “You’re gonna go into that meeting with me inside you.”

You feel your heart skip.

“But maybe if you’re good,” he whispers before looking up with a devious wink, “…I’ll do something about it.”

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Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics

[queenimmadolla]

Summary: After making a scene and storming out of Eddie's trailer, you're left to wonder if you even have a boyfriend anymore, since he hasn't spoken to you in three days.

a/n: congratulations. you bitches wore me down. you all know how much i HATE angst with no happy endings so enjoy me fixing it.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

word count: 3.3k

  It’d been days since the fight in Eddie’s trailer. Days.

  You were mad as hell when you’d left, so mad you almost appeared calm. You’d angrily cried on the drive back home, hot tears leaking steadily past your lashes as you scowled and you were sure they left a trail of mascara behind.

  You’d dodged your mother when you got home, unwilling to face the barrage of questions she’d  send your way that would no doubt trigger a breakdown. The last thing you needed was anyone asking if you were okay.

  Besides, you thought you’d be fine. Eddie would get the point, come to his senses and be at your front door a little past dinner to apologize for hurting your feelings.

  You’d composed yourself to the best of your ability while you ate, forking the food on your plate down with the excuse of having not had lunch when your mother started questioning you and then hurried back upstairs to your room.

  Your landline was plucked from its place on your nightstand drawer and set on your bed in front of you. When half an hour passed, you assumed Eddie was still wrestling with his pride. When half an hour turned into an hour and a half, you started wondering if maybe he was still cooling down from the argument. He’d call.

  By 2 a.m., the tears were back and speeding effortlessly from the corners of your eyes, down the bridge of your nose to meet your pillowcase as you realized he wasn’t going to call.

  He didn’t call the next day, either. Or the day after that. 

  The two of you weren’t in school anymore, so you couldn’t track him down in the halls but you didn’t want to go find him. You wanted him to come find you, you wanted him to chase after you when you left his trailer, you wanted him to call you and tell you he loved you and you wanted him to not bring girls who wanted him the way you did over to his trailer. 

  You wanted Eddie. But you wouldn’t go crawling back, your heart may have been wailing in agony but your pride was howling at you, wounded and bleeding.

  Were you broken up? You hadn’t intended for your exit to be the end, but by day three, you were starting to get the feeling it was over.

  And despite how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t rot in bed. You had responsibilities, a job. You’d called into the arcade the first two days but you couldn’t put it off forever, couldn’t avoid leaving your house because you feared running into Eddie.

  Yes, you were desperate to see him, but under your specific conditions. What if you ran into him and he confirmed the two of you were over? What if he was with that girl you’d seen leaving the trailer? He said he’d given her a deal for flirting with him, had it progressed? Was he rebounding?

  The more you thought about it, the more sad you got. Samantha Stone, your former lab partner and current co-worker had stepped in to awkwardly comfort you when you kept dipping into the back room to cry and eventually sent you home with the promise she could handle the riveting crowd of three plaguing the arcade.

  You’d kicked off your shoes and thrown your bag onto the floor the moment you got into your room, but you hadn’t changed, just fell face first onto your bed as your tears mingled with your comforter.

  And that’s how you found yourself thinking about how long it had been since that damn fight. Maybe you were overreacting. Sure, Eddie had been a little intimidating in high school, but he’d also had no trouble in the romance department. He’d told you he’d been cynical about it, since it never went beyond sex, but he’d also said that had been before you had looked twice at him. 

  Unfortunately for you, the stupid ass curse that comes with having a boyfriend struck you. Now that Eddie had a girlfriend, all of a sudden he was a wanted man, even more so than he had been in the past.

  You’d seen girls overstep, had been waiting for him in the van during a deal while you watched one reach a hand out to caress his arm and it had taken everything in you to not storm out of the van to tear the offending appendage off and beat her silly with it.

  Maybe you really were just blowing things out of proportion because of your jealousy. Maybe you owed Eddie the apology. Would he even accept your apology? It had been days, after all. Maybe he’d take you back if you groveled. Tears were a no brainer, you were pretty emotional and aware you were in a somewhat manic state, so they’d come the moment you caught sight of him again. Your feelings, your love for him, and this stupid mess would overwhelm you.

  You glanced at your phone, still poised on your bed and taunting you without a single ring. Your mother would have mentioned it if he called. He hadn’t.

  You wanted Eddie.

  That singular sentence plagued you, wrapping around your heart over and over again, constricting like a boa until you felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were about to have a heart attack. You could hear the loud and insistent banging that was your heartbeat, beating in time with your much too fast breaths.

  Eddie was the last thing you thought of before you shut down, body allowing exhaustion to overcome you to stop your impending panic attack.

  You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, eyes prying open to your room shrouded in darkness. A lazy glance at the window confirmed night had fallen and you sagged further into your bedding, sighing when you remembered you’d fallen asleep in your work uniform which meant you couldn’t slip back under the veil of rest and peace until you’d gotten out of it.

  You sat up, fingers gripping onto the hem of your shirt to lift it. 

  A flash of movement at the foot of your bed caught your attention just before you raised your shirt over your head and you nearly had a heart attack as you fell back, quickly reaching for your lamp.

  The warm glow of it illuminated the room and revealed Eddie standing near the foot of your bed, hands up to show he meant no harm.

  “Sorry,” he gave a brief huff of laughter, mouth pulled into a nervous smile, “didn’t mean to scare you. Your mom let me in.”

  Your heart calmed instantly at the sight of him, but your anxiety made its presence known, sinking into your belly.

  He’s here to break up with you, it whispered.

  You pulled your shirt back down, smoothing it out to give you something to do. Suddenly, you were incapable of words, nonverbal as your mouth refused to part. Your heart had won the battle with your pride and was desperate to beg him to forgive you for overreacting, would say anything to get him to hold you but you were paralyzed.

  Eddie cleared his throat, a hand reaching up to scratch his head before he sat down on the edge of your bed and you took him in.

  The most apparent difference in his appearance was the dullness of his eyes and the bags under them. Eddie was usually so full of life, an eccentric being buzzing with a sort of energy at all times, even when he was pretending to be the cool, collected bad boy. Now, he looked tired. And he had a light dusting of scruff on his jaw and cheeks.

  Eddie never had facial hair. Hated it. He’d tried it out once, he wasn’t fond of not being able to feel your kisses directly against his skin, and it made him itchy so it didn't last long.

  He shaved everyday to make sure he could feel your lips on him and the reminder made tears pool at your waterline once more.

  “Look, I─”

  “I’m sorry!” You rushed out, cutting him off as emotion muddled your voice and made your throat thick with it. The tears followed, just as you’d predicted they would when confronted by Eddie, “I’m so sorry, you were right, I was overreacting! I was just jealous, you can bring whoever you want to your trailer, I know it’s just business. I was just stupid and jealous and upset, you were right to not call me, and I’m sorry!”

  Eddie’s mouth parted, eyebrows rising in bewilderment.

  Then he was kicking off his shoes and climbing onto your bed, softly hushing you as he pulled you into his arms and you sobbed against his shirt, relieved to finally have Eddie back.

  You hadn’t thought he’d ever hold you again so you clung to him like a lifeline.

  Eddie held you tight, hand rubbing comfortingly over your back as he pressed kiss after kiss to your head and nuzzled his face there, trying to make sense of what was happening.

  After you’d left, he’d trashed his room. Well, more so than its usual state. He’d wanted you to come right back after you stormed out, was hoping you would—but like an idiot, Eddie just stared at the door as his mind replayed the entire conversation, emphasizing the moment he’d crossed the line. By the time he finally snapped out of his stupor and ran out after you, you were gone.

  Eddie was frustrated with himself, so he took it out on his room. When that was done, he’d grabbed a beer from the fridge, a joint from his stash and got crossed on the couch out front as he thought about the fight.

  He had no interest in anyone who wasn’t you. None. And for some reason, you didn’t understand just how much he loved you, how not a singular fucking person on this giant rock could compare to you. Not Cindy Crawford, not Pam Grier, not Irene Cara, not a single member of Metallica, no one.

  You were Eddie’s favorite person. You were his person.

  And he made you feel like shit. The longer he thought about it, the guiltier he felt. It was easy to write off your behavior as jealousy, but your jealousy hadn’t been unwarranted.

  He couldn’t see the big deal about having her pick up weed from his place since she’d phoned to let him know she was already in the area, but when he imagined some random guy coming out of your home, you walking him out?

  Eddie saw red. The thought alone knocked the air out of him and it was a feeling he was keen to not experience.

  But you had. And instead of just owning up to his slip of the mind, he’d stuck to his guns and had promptly shot himself in the metaphorical foot, not before hurting you. You were upset, and you lashed out when you got like that. Eddie had realized a long time ago that you only made digs like that because you wanted him to tell you you were wrong without having to ask him.

  Only, Eddie hadn’t told you that no, he didn’t give her a deal for being ‘pretty and flirty’ as you’d accused. She had been flirty—yes, he felt even more guilty when he thought about it—but he’d been blunt and brief, exchanging the bag of nugs for cash before he was sending her back the way she came. You’d just been on the other side of the door when he’d opened it for her to leave.

  It looked fucking terrible. How the hell was he supposed to make this up to you??? He’d spent the remainder of the night lingering near the phone, picking it up and then putting it back on the receiver. Nothing he could think of was a worthy enough apology for you, and he assumed you didn’t even want to see him. Fuck, you’d been so upset.

  He ended up passing out on the couch.

  The next few days went the same, he tried to figure out what to say, how to to explain himself and dove for the phone anytime it rang. It was never you, but of course it was when Eddie was desperate to hear your voice on the other end of the line that all his usual customers had run out of weed and other things.

  And she had called. 

  Eddie wasn’t stupid, she’d smoked with him and a group of friends at a party once, she hacked up her lungs and coughed herself into delirium after one pull; there was no way she’d finished what Eddie had supplied to her that quickly. It certainly didn’t help that she knew Eddie had you, and she still kept up the flirting. You were right, Eddie knew what she was trying to do and he was a shit boyfriend for not turning her down outright. Eddie had nipped that problem in the bud over the phone.

  In his desperation, he’d done multiple drives by the arcade, too. You were never behind the counter, only that gothic chick that liked to curse people was.

  He got anxious fast, hoping like hell that you hadn’t broken up with him. When it became too much for Eddie, who missed seeing your beautiful face, he caved in and drove to your house, despite the fact that you might not want to see him. When your mom let him in instead of throwing pots and pans at him like he’d imagined she would, Eddie figured you hadn’t told her about the fight which gave him hope.

  Maybe you did still want him.

  There was no light under your bedroom door and when he knocked you hadn’t answered but Eddie walked in anyways, heart clenching at the sight of you sprawled on your bed asleep.

  God, how he’d missed you.

  Eddie found himself blinking back tears as he stared down at you. It was selfish of him, but he really wanted to wake you up, touch you, hold you, kiss you.

  And then he realized he was at your house uninvited, in your room, watching you while you slept. Could he get any fucking creepier? Jesus…

  Eddie had been in the middle of pacing a circle in your carpet, trying to play out how this conversation would go when you stirred and he froze.

  Then you sat up and he got a little excited when you started taking your shirt off, but Eddie was aware of how bad this could go if he didn’t announce his presence.

  You hadn’t started yelling at him like he expected, no. What you did was worse. You were apologizing. 

  He’d been inconsiderate, he’d put himself in a situation that would look bad to literally anyone who saw him knowing he was in a relationship, had hurt your feelings—even more so because you’d apparently been waiting for him, wanting him this whole time and he’d just been holed up in the trailer, phone in hand but never dialing. 

  “Baby,” he mumbled against your head, leaning back and moving his hands to frame your face, thumbs wiping your tears away as he angled your head up at him so you could see the sincerity on his face, in his eyes, “you have nothing to be sorry for.”

  You hiccuped and started, “But I─”

  “Shh, no. Let me say this okay?” Eddie waited for you to nod and when you did, he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead and another to the tip of your nose.

  “You didn't overreact or do anything wrong, sweetheart. You were right. I knew exactly how she felt, and while I promise you I had no intentions of letting anything happen, I still shouldn’t have had her over. If the roles were reversed, I would’ve been jealous, mad, and really hurt. She called, tried to come over again and I told her I’m in love with you and I’m not interested in her. If she needs to replenish her supply, she’ll have to get it from Rick from now on. And I’ve never given her a deal. The only person who gets free weed is you, pretty girl.”

  You sniffled and his thumb stroked over your cheek once more. He added, “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I wanted to, so badly, but I didn’t know what to say or if you even wanted me to. I've been dying to see you, drove past the arcade a ton of times just to see if I could get a glimpse of you—your coworker, the scary one, flipped me the bird whenever she saw me, by the way.”

  That got a laugh out of you and Eddie grinned victoriously, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours, “I love you. I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.” Your gaze dropped from his eyes, the brown in them now swirling with warmth, to his lips, “Can I kiss you?”

  “Oh, baby. You don’t ever have to ask.” Eddie didn’t wait for you to make the first move, closing the small distance to press a deep, chaste kiss to your lips. Once you were returning his kiss, he got a little more insistent, you realized this was Eddie’s way of asking for reassurance and you were more than willing to give it to him, parting your lips so your tongues could meet again.

  The two of you made out on your bed at a leisurely pace as you reaffirmed your love for each other. When things got heated, and you soon found yourself on your back with Eddie on top of you and between your legs, he pulled away from your mouth with a smack, and winced.

  “I really want to have makeup sex, baby, but I’m about to pass out. I haven’t been sleeping well.” Rarely has Eddie slept without you, add in you being upset with him and he could barely sleep at all. The last thing he wanted to do was pass out while he was inside you and leave you unsatisfied. 

  You laughed, pulling him down for another kiss, “That's okay. We can fuck in the morning.”

  Eddie let out the most pornographic moan at the mental image and you laughed again as you shushed him, “Eddie! My mom will hear you!”

  Reluctantly he rolled off you to undress, yanking off his pants while you shimmied out of yours, pulled your shirt off and discarded your bra. When Eddie yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it towards the ground, you’d intercepted it and pulled it over your own head.

  Eddie gave you a very appreciative onceover before he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will his hard-on away, “Down, boy.”

  You snuggled up to his side, and he pulled you into his arms, throwing your blanket over the both of you and letting out a sigh of content as you nuzzled your face into his neck, “Fuck, I missed this. Missed you.”

  “Missed you, too, Eds.”

  “Next time you get mad at me, I’m sitting on the hood of your car so you can’t leave.”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  “Or maybe you can just kick my ass instead of leaving.”

  “No, I like it too much.”

  Eddie’s chest shook with quiet laughter and you smiled, eyes fluttering shut. 

  This time, when sleep finally overcame you, your heart wasn’t in pain or beating loudly in your ears. It was nestled against you, and snoring into your hair. 

[lifemod17]

thoughts on 'Unaired EP'

IN THIS ESSAY I WILL-

below the cut in case you don't want spoilers <3

Nobody's Soldier

THE FUCKIN FALSETTO IS DRIVING ME INSANE ITS LIKE HE LACED THIS SONG WITH CRACK

"Benzos and gasoline" line is WILD (it is so hot for no reason wtf Andrew)

the little break that happens at 1:43 with. i don't even know what that is? like a sort of distorted / reverbed guitar bend / riff? either way, LOVE THAT.

also lets give it up one time for the organ, that is SO GNARLY, YOU CANNOT DENY IT!!!

hearing the live version vs. this recorded one is different, I literally went "OMFG WHAT IS THIS PART" starting at 2:53 when he gets all whisper-y WHY IS IT SO HOT

Listen man, I am a sucker for a good pause, and that pause after the bridge has me UNWELL.

SLOWING IT DOWN for the ending will never not be iconic. you don't see that happening a lot!

the intake of breath on the outro??!! tumblr user lifemod17 is NOT FARING WELL

July

so full of hope and promise and really just about having that thing or that someone to look forward to. The definition of "postpone that funeral"

THE SYNTHS??? FORGIVE HIM FATHER FOR HE HAS SYNTH!!!

"JUST KNOWING THAT'S GETTING ME THROUGH"?!?!?!? I wanna throw up. that is a Tonee-ass line. yeah 'July' is DEFINITELY taking the crown. This is my favorite from the EP.

i WAS right! he says 'prada' because it just made so much sense with the 'wore me out' line.

the whole second half had me in SHAMBLES. the lyrics were already insane but also throw in his soft voice mixed with the FUNKY & GROOVY beat?? I fear it is so over for me (I was genuinely screaming into a pillow and needed to sit down even though I was already sat and also I didn't know what to do with my person so I was just laying there and looking up at the ceiling while fighting off tears. I was SHOOK.)

It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and makes me want to roll downhill a field and pick flowers to give to strangers

Have I mentioned the pen game? Because it is on level 9000. His pen was on fire when he has writing this

B A S S O U T R O GOT ME ACTING TF UP

That You Are

I was not expecting the lyrics to be "that I'd be anywhere that you are". im sorry but that is devastatingly beautiful and rips my heart out brb sobbing

my wig quietly and peacefully ascended from my head.

it's a lot more raw, production wise. the vocals aren't super clean, but I actually really like it this way!!! it makes the song that much more precious, gentle, intimate

Bedouine's vocals NEVER DISAPPOINTS!! She always has a way of transporting you with her music- makes you feel like you're floating above water

I needed to sautee the yearning for this one, its so pretty but hits you right in the feels

The fact that this is speculated to be the contender for the spot of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' I'M GONNA CRY AGAIN Andrew please do an EP breakdown cuz I need to know!

that little instrumental interlude towards the bridge is so lovely and the entire song really! I think they did a good job of splitting the vibe 50/50 <- I say this because I listen to Bedouine a lot and the vibe of her songs is definitely here. it just really shows that they both wrote this together. its not a feature, its a collab

We're all gonna cry and then afterwards we're all gonna hug cuz this song just inflicted so much emotional damage upon all of us

[tightjeansjavi]

Congrats on being here writing for one year!!!

🦋Can I please request a little mini drabble for Javi G?

And since you know I love my little bad boi/soft boi - can you please make him a little naughty? He's not a big, mean man, but I think he can be spicy when he wants to be.

xoxoxo

Patti, anything for you my darling 💗

Thank you for taking my Javi G v-card ;)

-

Tease

A/N: spicy, spicy, spicy! 🥵🌶️

~word count: 1.3k~

Summary: being Javi Gutierrez’s personal assistant comes with many perks.

Pairing | Javi Gutierrez x f!personal assistant reader

Warnings: smut with no plot, power imbalance (boss/employee) reader is ballsy and bold, mutual pining, unprotected piv, fingering, teasing (like HELLA) seductress reader, noncon/dubcon (reader is naked in his eye-line on purpose) javi is respectful till he’s not, dom!javi, reader can understand Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, no age gap (no mention of age) +18, minors dni!

translations:

¡Mierda! - Shit!

Querida - darling

Ten piedad de mí, joder - have mercy on me, fuck

Hermosa - gorgeous

Chica mala - bad girl

translations done by @angelofsmalldeath-codeine & @yoongi-tangerine-22

Being Javi Gutierrez’s personal assistant came with…many perks. Javi was always a generous man, and even though he was your boss, and you knew it was shameful to be attracted to him, you couldn’t help it.

But what’s a girl to do with an assumed one-sided attraction? Tease the shit out of him till he simply can’t take it anymore.

It started off innocent, light touches here and there. Fluttering of lashes, giggles, and asking him questions about himself that did not pertain to the conversation at hand.

You loved to see him stutter over his responses and rub the back of his neck, or card his fingers through his luscious, soft curls.

He never acted upon his desires and urges. He always was respectful, polite, and boy, did that often drive you up a wall.

You were desperate to know what kind of man Javi Gutierrez was in the bedroom.

You started wearing revealing clothing around him. Short skirts, low-cut tops that had your tits practically staring him in the face. Flowy sundresses that allowed for easy access to your bare cunt.

He found you purposely bent over at times, with the seam of your pussy exposed—puffy, dripping a droplet of arousal like the sweetest fruit a man could ever taste.

Tempted by the bared fruit of Eden, he was. The urge was there, but never satiated. You were his assistant, and he was your boss. It would be shameful.

-

The sun was hot, blistering, boiling on your skin. One of the perks of living at Javi’s coastal home, was your free access to his inground pool. As long as you did your job, you could spend your free time lounging poolside for hours.

Today you decided to spice things up a bit more than usual knowing the exact time that Javi would come down for his afternoon swim. You would be there, waiting for him.

At first, he didn’t notice your naked form sunbathing on your stomach, ankles crossed in a relaxed position on the poolside chaise lounge. His mind was elsewhere: a new screenplay idea.

He whistled, throwing his towel down on the chair beside you, stretching his arms above his head, giving you a tiny peek at the happy trail at the top of his very tight speedo.

Your sunglasses tip down over the bridge of your nose as you shamelessly drink him in. Salivating at the look of his bronzed, golden skin that you absolutely would love to sink your teeth into.

“Mr. Gutierrez, so nice of you to join me.” You giggle softly, waving your fingers in a teasing motion.

He does a double take when his eyes finally gloss over your naked body. His pupils expand, and he nearly stumbles over his two feet.

“¡Mierda!” He exclaims, covering his eyes and shaking his head. “Querida, why are you naked?!” The harmless nickname slips past his lips, his eyes going wide behind the cover of his hands when the realization hits.

“Aw, Javi! I’m your darling? Wow, you sure know how to get a gal feeling flustered!” You giggle again and slowly roll over onto your back, thighs falling open over the side of the lounge chair, just enough that he can see the outline of your cunt. “It’s far too hot to be wearing anything, Javi. My skin is absolutely boiling.” You said with a soft, airy sigh, letting your hand drift southwards to rest along your stomach. Inching—

Ten piedad de mí, joder. He thinks.

He doesn’t respond, feeling flustered as a hot flush spreads across his face. He averts from making eye contact with you and tosses his sunglasses onto his towel. You swear you hear him curse under his breath just before he dives into the refreshing pool.

Darn.

-

Javi finally loses his cool when the second draft of his new screenplay is rejected. He’s been so distracted with you and your antics that he hasn’t been able to focus! Well, he’s about to show you just how frustrated he truly is with you.

You don’t hear him approaching at first from where you’re bent over the sink, focused on washing the dishes and the song playing in your AirPods.

Your hips are swaying to the side, loose and flowy and from where Javi is standing in the opening of the kitchen, he’s practically burning holes into the back of your head.

Fucking tease.

He stalks forward, coming up behind you and nearly rips the earbuds from your ears, tossing them onto the countertop.

“Hey—” you start to say, losing your voice in your throat when you feel Javi’s palm slip between the apex of your thighs, fingers just barely brushing between the seam of your cunt.

“You’re a dirty fucking tease, querida.” He growls against the shell of your ear. His freehand yanks you back by your hip. He inhales your scent, familiar—his fucking cologne? “Naughty fucking tease. Are you—wearing my cologne?” He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering up your apparent arousal, sticky and wet for him. “Dripping all over the freshly washed tiles, hermosa.”

“Fuuck—” you whimper, pressing your ass directly against the growing bulge in his cotton shorts. Your head lolls to the side, falling back against his shoulder. “I’m your dirty fucking tease, Javi.” You spread your thighs further for him as he continues his ministrations, “Wearing your cologne, sir. Stole it from your room because I’m a bad, bad, girl. I wanted you to smell yourself on me.”

He nips at your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin, sucking harshly on your pulse point as he eases two fingers inside of your sopping cunt, knuckle deep. “Fucking always wearing short skirts around me. Those goddamn sundresses. Lost my mind when you were sunbathing naked, cunt on full display without a care in the world. You’ve made it so, so hard for me to keep my hands to myself, querida.”

“Javiii!” You whine, “please don’t keep your hands to yourself, baby. Please. Have your way with me, sir. I’m all yours.” You don’t give a flying fuck how desperate you sound for this man, you’ve been pining after him for far too long to care.

“Yeah? You think I should, hermosa? Think I should give you my cock? That’s what you want, right? You want my cock? I don’t think you deserve it, querida. Not after you’ve driven me up a fucking wall. Naughty little teases don’t get rewarded.”

He begins to shallowly pump his fingers, knuckle deep, curling them inwards. You can feel the bite of the cooling touch of his expensive rings against your hot skin. “Please, Javi! Give me anything—I’ll take whatever you give me! Your cock, your fingers!” You cry out.

“Yeah? You’re that fucking desperate for me, querida? You want my cock that fucking bad? Look at you, dripping all over my fingers…” he hums, pressing the hardening length of his cock against your ass. “You want me to fuck you so bad, little tease? Take my cock out then, hermosa. Fuck yourself on it.”

You waste no time to reach behind and blindly search for the waistband of his shorts. You let out a frustrating whine when he pulls himself back slightly just so you have to work for it a little harder. He hisses between his teeth, working his fingers inside of you faster when you finally pull his cock free through the opening of his shorts.

He’s heavy in your palm, tip weeping an angry bead of precum when you pull him back in just as he slips his fingers out. You're both a mess of breathy moans when you ease him into your wet heat, tight pussy hugging him like a fist as he bottoms out.

He’s thick, girthy, and it’s overwhelming to have all of him stuffed inside of you. It’s a delicious sensation: being stretched open by Javi’s cock.

“You’re enjoying this too fucking much, hermosa.” He keeps a firm grip on your hip, his other snakes around you, dipping between your thighs so he can thrum your sensitive clit. “Fuck yourself on it, chica mala.”

And so you do.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 💗

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[v3nusplanetofluv]

camp

i; fishbowls

｡･ﾟﾟ･atsumu x fem! reader

｡･ﾟﾟ･college and 90s au

description...

atsumu miya was the bane of your existence growing up. always making it his job to tease and taunt you daily. as time went on you detached yourself from the neighborhood kids, your frequent, unwanted presence merely becoming a thing of the past. however, the summer of '98 causes you and atsumu to face the past.

content!

2.1k words

"ma, when yer son comes home from college yer supposed to keep him in not kick him out!" atsumu groaned as his head fell onto the cold kitchen counter, "especially when i'm your favorite-"

"what-"

it was finally summer vacation, and all the miyas were back in their nest. the formerly eerily quiet kitchen was once again full of life; the sweet smell of vanilla filled the air as pancakes were flipped on the electric griddle; the bright sun warmed the table cloth that covered the glass dining table; and loud hearty accents were doubled in sound as the two boys were back.

"both of y'all are gettin' kicked out," the older woman places the now finished pancakes onto a plate. "it just so happens that samu listens to what I have ta say, and chooses where he wants ta go ahead of time."

the grey haired twin smiles up at his mom with a 'thanks' as she places a stack of pancakes in front of him. "i'm goin' to grandma and grandpa's farm ta help out at their cafe," he sticks his tongue out at atsumu making him roll his eyes.

"whatever," his arms crossed over his chest, "I don't like that stinky farm anyway." atsumu flinches as he feels his mom yank upon his ear in disapproval.

"good! ya won't have ta 'cause yer workin' at a summer camp!" mrs. miya smiles as atsumu's jaw practically reaches the depths of hell. "our neighbor suggested it--"

"which neighbor so i know whose lawn koda can piss on--OW!" mr.miya strikes the faux blond with his now rolled morning paper.

"language," the older man sits beside his son, coffee now in hand. "y/n's mother came up with that great idea--the girl's been working there since high school--ya remember her right?"

"yeah, i remember fishbowls--OW!" osamu was now on the receiving end of the sunday morning paper, the boy now reaching for his battered forehead. the action instantly stifled atsumu's laughs.

the faux blond covers his head, "ya want me to go work with that freak for the whole summer?" he asks through gritted teeth, actively guarding his head.

"y/n is a beautiful young lady who is doin' great things," mama miya points her spatula at the boys, "she's actually in school studyin' biology to become a doctor now!"

"oh, who would've thought that fishbowls was gonna be in a nerdy major?" atsumu comments, sarcasm dripping in his tone, making osamu snicker.

osamu sits up straight, "'do ya wanna come over and see my new experiment?" he mocks a nerdy accent as he pushes his fake glasses up the bridge of his nose making his brother burst at the seams in laughter.

"come on! y'all haven't seen the girl since she changed schools in middle school," the older miya says as he sips his coffee.

"yea cause she was always cooped up in her room readin' or some shit," atsumu mumbles as he messes with the pancakes in front of him.

"well, i guess this summer will be the perfect time ta give her a chance!" mama miya smiles as she brushes her hands off on her apron, ignoring his groans, "and ya better get packin' 'cause ya leave next week."

insane in the membrane by cyrprus hill blares through the stereo setup of the 1989 lexus is 400. osamu's sunglass rest upon his nose as he drives through rural hyogo, fingers tapping on the steering wheel to the beat. atsumu sits in the passenger seat mumbling along to the lyrics, hand resting outside of the window.

atsumu furrows his eyebrows as he looks over at his brother, "is it too late for me ta come ta the farm with ya?"

"...ya called it stinky--"

"but a whole summer--three months with fishbowls--sounds like i'll be slittin' ma wrist with a spoon," atsumu groans as he sinks further into his seat.

osamu chuckles as he glances over at the drama queen, "think positive! what if she's like hella fine now?"

the two look between each other before bursting out in laughs.

"i'll miss yer goofy ass this summer 'samu!" he says as he wipes a fake tear from his eye.

not even thirty minutes later the sight of tall trees completely consumed the car. the smell of marukawa bubble gum was replaced with fresh water and earthy cedar trees. the road got bumpy as atsumu poked his head out of the window, finally seeing the massive sign marking the entrance of the summer camp: ' firefly valley.'

as osamu slowed the car atsumu instantly started to scratch, "i think i'm allergic ta this place."

"they're called mosquitos--now get outta my car!"

"we won't see each other for almost three months and this is how you wanna say goodbye?" atsumu fakes a pout as he unbuckled his seatbelt making his twin roll his eyes. as osamu pulled his bag out of the car, atsumu looked up at the trees that never seemed to end; and down at the dirt that somehow already got onto his white sneakers.

the feeling of his duffle bag shoved into his chest grabbed atsumu's attention as he looked up to be met with the flash of osamu's digital camera. he sighs with a smile as he pulls the camera from his face, "man, grandma is gonna love this! might even hang it on the fridge." he snickers making atsumu glare but the frustrated feeling is instantly dropped as osamu pulls him into a hug.

"ya better not come back with headgear and a new love for readin'" he teases making atsumu laugh.

"no promises!" he says as he pulls away, "call me when ya get ta the farm."

"i will," osamu waves one final time as he gets into the car, driving off leaving atsumu at the camp. dirt kicks up from the wheels making the faux blond flinch back, unfortunately bumping into someone. he swiftly apologizes as he turns around but he's quickly dismissed as the man doesn't seem phased.

"ya must be atsumu miya," the man smiles, "welcome to camp! i'm kyo," he sticks his hand out and atsumu shakes it with a tight lipped smile. "follow me and i'll show ya the leader cabins and around camp along the way."

with wide eyes, atsumu looks around the camp in awe. even though he just moved to a bigger and busier city--tokyo--he hadn't realized how much he missed this. he was instantly transported back to his earlier summers spent at his grandparents' farm. the bright blue sky created a stunning gradient into the shimmering lake. the trees looked as if they could go on forever--as if they were reaching for the sun. the oh so familiar smell of sunblock attacked his nostrils as the smaller versions of his volleyball nets made a smile creep upon his face.

atsumu looked ahead at the sound of kyo's voice, directing him to his cabin that he would share with other leaders for the next three months. the faux blond thanked him as he rested his bags on the floor beside his bed. the brown-haired man was about to leave before he remembered something.

"make sure to stop by the main office to get yer shirts and badge--someone should be in there to help ya out!" and before atsumu could ask him where exactly the main office was, he was gone.

he sighed as he hooked his sunglasses onto the collar of his t-shirt,. atsumu made his way out of the cabin, looking around intently for any resemblance, or sign that could possibly lead him to his destination.

after about ten minutes of wandering around, the dark green and white building came into his view. one could tell it was old with the way the paint was chipping--the intense weathering it endured was evident.

he opened the screened door to be met with a welcomed blast of air conditioning, a content sigh left his lips as he looked around. the sound of a voice caught his attention leading him to follow it around a corner and into what looked like a waiting area.

the back of a spinny chair was what atsumu first saw. the back of an occupied spinny chair! a finger peeked out as it twirled the cord of the phone, looping and unlooping as you talked on the phone.

"yes, ms.tanaka i will personally make sure that hiro has easy access to his inhaler..." you smiled into the phone, adjusting in your seat completely unaware of the nearly drooling simpleton behind you.

he couldn't see you but he could just tell that you were hot. maybe it was the way he could imagine your perfectly manicured nails combing through his hair as you whispered sweet nothings in his ear with your heavenly voice or maybe he was simply deluded.

"of course, you know i've never let anything happen to hiro--i figure you'd want him back in one piece at the end of the summer...yes yes of course! it is my job," you laugh softly making atsumu's heart skip a beat, "feel free to call back if you have any more questions...alright, I can't wait to see hiro!...have a nice day , bye bye."

as you hang up the phone atsumu can barely contain his excitement as dozens of scenarios run through his mind of what he would say to you--a grin kept sneaking up his lips which he quickly pushed away to keep up his cool facade.

he quickly gets into position as he rests upon the desk, instantly grabbing your attention as he knocks down a pen holder. you whip your head around only to feel the wind get stuck within your throat.

it suddenly becomes hard to breathe as you're unable to say anything let alone move, and you think that you could use hiro's inhaler right about now. your horrified expression makes atsumu's heart drop as he quickly scrambles to pick up the mess he had made.

"h-hey it's alright, i can get it cleaned up real quick!" he awkwardly laughs in nervousness and embarrassment as he realizes he had just made a fool of himself in front of one of the prettiest girls he's ever seen. he tries to fight off the blush on his cheeks, and runs through excuses in his mind--the heat!

you finally manage to catch your breath and look up at him. the boy who made your adolescence a living hell. the man who is now invading one of your safe spaces.

"what do you want?" your tone is harsh, but not harsh enough in your opinion. however, the blond doesn't take much notice as he stares down at you with a goofy look on his face.

"atsumu miya," he sighs dreamily, "name please," he grins, completely oblivious to your look of disgust and the incoherency of his sentence. your eyebrow raises and confusion coats your face. you think he must not recognize you and it's a fair assumption considering you made it a mission to avoid the miyas and the other neighborhood kids once you hit puberty to preserve your sanity...and dignity--what was left of it.

on the other hand, it was as if you had no chance to erase his face from your memory. hell, the universe never gave you a chance to.

"look at the twins! they're committing to that powerhouse school!"

"did you see that atsumu's the best high school setter in japan?"

"can you believe that atsumu's ready been offered to join msby?"

"atsumu looks amazing in his media pictures for msby don't ya think?"

you allowed your expression to soften, "so...you don't know who I am?" you cross your arms over your chest, leaning onto the desk making the blond's hands grow sweaty.

"the girl of ma dreams," he bites down on his lip to hide his smile.

you deadpan before rolling your eyes making atsumu straighten up, "o-or i'd like ta get ta know...if ya let me." he suddenly feels bashful? something the faux blond is greatly unfamiliar with...maybe you were a witch.

you look him up and down, making his cheeks heat up all over again, "i think you'll freak when i tell you." you narrow your gaze at him, unknowingly feeding his supicsions.

in one of his boldest moves of the day, he leans down towards you, "try me," he smirks.

you look up at him through your lashes, quickly thinking of all of his possible reactions. your lips begin to twitch up into an almost wicked smile, "do ya really wanna know?" he you lean up closer towards him, making his heart rate increase.

"more than anythin'," he breathes out, tuning out the sound of his beating heart.

your gaze darkens, "does fishbowls ring a bell?" your sickening smile doesn't dare to falter as you watch atsumu flinch back in confusion, his face twisting into multiple emotions as he tries to process the sound of the cruel nickname leaving your lips.

he leans forward a bit to look at your face, looking for any features that may have resembled his insanely nerdy neighbor.

"...y/n?"

"in the flesh."

notes !

☆ mr. and mrs. miya adore y/n. they have always admired her manners and academic ambition. that led to them always urging the twins to hang out with her and also partially ignited their disdain toward the girl.

☆ y/n never picked up the hyogo accent even though she lived there her whole life. immersion wasn't enough as her parents didn't speak the dialect either. this further isolated y/n from the neighborhood kids.

☆ when y/n said her name atsumu didn't buy it at first until he looked at her closer and noticed the scar that she had on her eyebrow. the same scar that he gave her after throwing a ball at her too hard while trying to be funny. the ball broke her glasses and they cut into her face.

☆ y/n honestly thought she was gonna pass out from lack of airflow to her brain when she saw atsumu again in person after all of those years.

i hope you enjoyed! this is a draft from my wattpad that i'm reworking :) if you'd like to be tagged just let me know!

dividers by @plutism

[jolapeno]

xi. hold her, and tell her everything's gonna be fine

javier peña x f!reader | chapter eleven of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: sad!reader, talks of jobloss, comforting!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love ✨ wordcount: 3.3k. an: i know, when will jo stop changing the banner, but I love this so much and feel it encompasses everything for these two.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

I have one last thing to research and then I’m all yours.

have you eaten

There is a piece of fruit in my hand, as I research.

you said you were gonna order

In my defence, I’m not super hungry.

if I was there id hide your notebook and make you eat tamales my mama taught me to make

Make me, ay?

oh baby normally i would be so down to talk dirty with you and make you blush but only when youve eaten

I really want this job, baby.

i know but i really want you to not be ill

Because you really really really like me?

i heard that in your voice and yes because I really like you

In the last few days, the two of you have managed to complete three crosswords. Something he’s impressed with and you’re disappointed in.

“So, another one—I’m still unsure what this even means.”

Laughing, he hears you crunch another piece of fruit—thankful to hear you eating. “What’s the clue, baby?”

He’ll never tire of it, hearing you call him that. A sweet sound, all wrapped in kindness—floating down the phone line all the way to his ear.

“‘Not a company man’, six letters,” he says, fingers rolling the bridge of his nose.

“Hermit,” you say, calm, casual. “Or, you know, me if I don’t get the job.”

“Baby,” he warns, pen scratching the paper as you try to laugh.

Then you asked to change the conversation. Something he was more than happy to oblige, capping the pen, shoving the book away, leaning on the counter as you tell him about a new recipe you like. Talking fast, busy—almost far too energetic, but he knows why.

It’s all because of today.

The interview—the things he’s heard you jump through hoops for—arriving sooner than he could have relaxed you for.

You’d practised elements of your presentation and called him more than you usually would. Something he liked, enjoyed. The feeling of being needed. That his opinion mattered. It all weaving within him, stitching the parts of him that had weakened since the goodbye, since the drive home—alone and without you.

After a quick text in the morning, Javi had known not to expect to hear from you for a while. Likely not even immediately post your interview, probably needing a coffee—a breather.

If he lived there, where you were, you’d likely need him. Meet him outside, coffee in hand to give to you, a comforting hug, your breath on his neck as you let the tension out.

But he wasn’t there.

And he had thought he might have heard from you an hour later.

let me know how it’s gone baby

Javi tries not to be needy.

A battle he finds easy to lose when it comes to you. Digging his phone out the back pocket of his jeans periodically, ignoring the animals nuzzling their noses at him for food as he checks his battery, texts, calls…

Then the hour bled into two. Your interview was two-hundred and thirty-nine minutes ago, to be precise.

By now, he’s expected to have heard something, anything.

you still want me to call tonight

He tries not to worry. Even as his tasks dwindled, the sun beating down, his stomach growling and sweat building in parts of him that he should shower off.

But a part of him thinks if he goes inside, it’ll layer on top of him: the loneliness. The thing he feels, but pretends isn’t there.

Because normally, he’d have heard from you at lunch—if not more frequently throughout your day. The silence expected, very out of character. Which turns some cogs in him that twist and tighten, forcing his throat to burn and his stomach to flutter with a nervousness he can’t explain, except that:

Javi wants you.

Not just in the sense that he wants to run his fingers up and down your side, to crush his lips over yours, to bury himself inside of you as he feels himself falling, freely, and happily. But more that he wants to wake next to you, see you smile and laugh amongst the field, show you the water’s edge—feel some contentment there rather than boiling anger at the boats.

You could wear your jacket as the weather cools, and spread your warmth from the photo strip to the rest of the ranch.

youre doing that thing where you make me worry, baby

Eventually, after much internal fighting, he heads in and showers.

Hands washing the day as he hopes the water will take away his worries too. Pressing his palm flat to the tiles, he allows the water to beat down on him—eyes occasionally glancing to the phone on the windowsill, willing it to light up.

He suspects it’s why he stays in a bit longer.

Allows the soap suds to have long since vanished down the plug hole, letting the water begin to go cold as he uses all of the water up.

It’s only when he’s dried off, thrown some comfier clothes on—sunk into his usual chair, does he rotate the phone in his hand. His fingers slid along the underside of his chin, eyes fixated on a photo of him and his parents—their faces beaming, smiling, his hands in theirs.

even got me using punctuation and everything

Please, he whispers.

To no one. Not his Pop in the next room, some show bleeding into the air. Just to himself, as he works the spot on his forehead.

You don’t text him back, but you do call bang on time.

He’s spent the last half an hour pretending he wasn’t loitering, while his pop pretended he wasn’t coming in to make drinks to check on him. Giving him that look, the one Javi had seen so often when he’d first come back from Cali.

All concern, all deep lines embedded with worries as he ticks, tick, ticked.

This was different. Something in his gut telling him that you weren’t okay, a need inside of him to get to you—pack a bag, head to the airport and hope there was a flight or something.

He only hadn’t because a part of him, small—but loud—hummed that it could be him. He could be the reason, the cause. It all too good to be true. His fingers pressing keys to read back his texts, see if he can find the cause—the moment it all began to spoil and undo.

The last hour of investigation led him to nothing. Irritation threading into his muscles until he heard the phone ring—loud, punching holes with its noise into his unravelling.

Smirking, he wipes his hands on his jeans, cocking his head around the doorway—checking for the flickering television and no lurking pop, before he unhooks the ringing phone from its place.

“Took you long enough, was about to ring you and ruin—”

“J—Javi?”

Sniffle. A sob. The beginnings of you splitting in two.

That’s what he hears—clear as anything. It cuts straight through his attempt at teasing and slices through him as though the sound was laced with the edge of a knife.

It’s instant, barely explainable, the way his stomach falls to his feet. His smile vanishes, stolen and robbed, as another sob expands in the space of your two’s silence, making his throat dry, and the phone crunches a little under his grip.

“Baby. Talk to me, what’s happened?”

You swallow, all thick, as though it's a struggle. “I… I—I didn’t g-get the job-b.”

Slowly, his eyes close. Hearing you cry again, louder, less restrained and more freely, them rolling and rolling from you like a wave. The depth of it travels freely down the phone, in the same way, he usually craves when it’s your voice, noise, or presence.

“I’m… cariño, I’m so—”

“—I’m s-sorry, Javi. I’m so sorry…”

Frowning, he slides the fingers down his nose as you continue to apologise—them merging with your hiccups and tears.

“Cariño, wait. Stop.”

And you do. Your sniffles all of a sudden ceasing, more restrained—practically swallowing another one back. Trying to keep it on your tongue, rather than let it escape.

“Why are you apologising to me?”

You’re quiet for a moment, a second. Then you seem to let out a strange noise, before clearing your throat. “The job… I… we’d have been seeing each other more, and I’ve ruined it—I ruined-d it all.”

Frowning, he opens his mouth. Confusion there, all evident and brimming. Because he hasn’t got a fucking clue what you’re talking about. His brain runs, dashing through the notes it’s been making, the snippets here and there you’d spill about your day and your work.

“It was-s in Houston. I’d have been able t-to move. We’d have been c-closer.”

And then it lands.

The realisation. What it would have meant.

It appears in front of him before it slams straight into him. Forced his head to drop, sight lowering to a mark on the wall as his chest tightens. His eyes fixated, unable to tear his eye from the stain on the off-yellow wall—one likely made from him sitting on a stool or chair, maybe even his knee when he’s stretched, when minutes have quickly tumbled into an hour.

Even if he’s reeling, your ramblings have continued. They’re all in various pitches, spluttered and painted in painful cries and strangled sniffs.

“—I—I didn’t want to tell you at first, in case we didn’t, you know, get on.” You continue, some words slamming into the next as you try to level out your cries. “Then I didn’t want to tell you in case you got excited, and I fucked it up—and I did, didn’t I? I fucked it up. And now we won’t live closer, and—“

“Baby—“

But you’re tumbling, rolling right off the emotional cliff you’d been on the edge of. Thick, horrid sobs that shake his foundation and dart cracks through all of him continue to travel from you.

And it hurts. Makes him feel both horrid and weak—helpless. Unsure what he can say, do.

So he offers, “They’ll be other jobs.”

And as soon as it unfurls from his tongue, he wants to drag it back. Swallow each syllable, and letter, and never let you hear them again.

Because he’s sure you cry harder, louder. Even if it appears like you pull the phone away so he can’t hear how deep they go.

And you keep trying to spill out his name, a sentence here and there, trying to form as he pushes the phone against his ear, palm flattening against the wall—balling his fingers up—

“There won’t be…”

Sighing, he lets you take a breath. “Baby, of course, there will be. You’re good, I can tell, alright? And you’re brilliant and just cause those fuckin’ idiots can’t see—“

“I quit, Javi.”

The words he’d been about to say, fizz out on his tongue, die, fade. And it seems to only make you cry harder. His mind trying to catch up, to follow on with what is happening as you explain, in broken sobs, how your entire life seems to crumble apart all around you.

“I… I couldn’t take it. The reason, the explanation. How they gave it to the new guy, the one who doesn’t even know how Houston operates—and I just saw red, Javi. And I quit. Me? I… I just packed my desk up, left….”

He bites the inside of his cheek, listening as you take a breath—it sounds so much like defeat has replaced your sorrow.

“Then I just wandered. A box under my arm… and… I wanted to reply, but I didn’t know where to start. Like, ‘I miss you so much, but by the way, I didn’t get that promotion, and I snapped because they treat me like shit, so I quit. That my best friend is so excited because they’re paying for her to move this month for her new job, and my lease on my apartment is coming up’ and…”

“And what?”

It’s your turn to sigh, it more shaky and still embezzled with sniffles—fluttering down to his ear. “And…” you pause, his pulse suddenly quickening, waiting, mouth opening and then closing. “And, the person who would make me feel better isn’t even in the same State as me—because, I know this sounds crazy, but as soon as I heard why I didn’t get that job, all I wanted… well, all I wanted was you.”

Me?

His lips curl, sliding up into his cheek. His eyes look up, dancing around the marks on the wall as he straightens his spine, and swallows back whatever lump had been forming.

“I just…” you continue, “wanted to be back in that hotel room. Curled up in your arms.”

“You….” Clearing his throat, he tries again. “You know how we could solve that? You could come here—clear your head… just for a minute. Get all the hugs you want.”

You let out a noise, low, shifting it from it to a breath in record time. “Well, I wouldn’t be much fun. I’d just spend it in your bed.”

“That doesn’t sound all that bad, baby.”

“Sleeping and crying, do it for you, charmer?”

He grins, before rolling his lips. “Not if it’s not from how good I make you feel, no. But. I just—want you to have options.”

You go silent, far too quiet for his liking, until he hears the sound of movement, shuffling. His ears honing in, trying to work out what it is you’re doing, could be doing.

“What am I actually gonna do, Javi?”

Fuck. It suddenly dawning on him how unequipped he is for this. For comfort—for being there for another person. He barely looked after himself before, never mind since he came home. He hasn’t got a fucking clue what to say to even begin to make someone feel better, never mind someone who means as much to him as you.

“I… I quit my job. Without even finding another one—that’s… that’s crazy, insane—I don’t do these things and-and—“

Rolling his head on his neck, he ran a hand over his face. Trying to buy a second or two, digging deep for an answer—something comforting that would help.

“You, baby, are gonna get some sleep, and tomorrow we’re gonna sort it.”

He hears you swallow. Loud, followed shortly after by a sigh.

“We?”

You say it quietly, full of disbelief.

Because only you still wouldn’t realise how deep he is in with you. If he could, if he could risk hijacking the moment to explain, he’d tell you how worried he’s been, how he’s been obsessively checking and clicking, to the point he’s pretty sure he’s taken some life of his phone battery for it.

Swallowing, he bites his lip, nodding to himself. “It’s you and me, ain’t it, cariño? You’re not… you don’t have to figure this out alone, is all I mean.”

It’s soft—the way you reply, okay. Delicate. He’s hopeful it’s accompanied by a smile, one with a nose scrunch.

“Javi?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“Can you… can you stay on the phone with me?”

Pulling a stool over, he sits himself down on it. The ache in his chest widened, a lump in his throat forming. “Sure, baby. You want me to talk about anything in particular?”

“Not sure…”

“What would you do if I was there?”

He swears he hears you smirk.

“I would cook you almond saffron chicken.”

Shifting on the stool, he adjusts the phone in his hand. “Yeah? How come?”

“It’s the first dish Aish taught me to make, and I think you’d like it. And, I’m quite hungry, I… I didn’t really feel up to food before. But maybe, y’know, if I came to see you, had the chance to cook, maybe over a long weekend?”

Smirking, he lets out a content breath. “I like the sound of it already…”

“Because of me cooking in your kitchen?”

Laughing, he rolls his lips. “No, because it would mean you were here, cariño.

Morning baby, hope the cows aren’t trying to eat your shirt.

morning hermosa why are you up so early

Well, I thought of having a lie in but decided to grab a coffee, print off some CVs and not look as desperate as I feel.

if it makes you feel better im pretty sure my pop would hire you in a heartbeat

Bet I’d look real good in dungarees.

fuck baby

Could even wear your shirt, tie it so it’s a crop.

youre killing me

I’ll leave you with that, I have a list of places to beg to give me a chance.

wouldnt need to beg me

Stop, baby. Save it for later.

He’d barely dried himself off before your text came through.

Javi had found that the one upside to you being unemployed was the amount of time you had to reply or call—something he wasn’t complaining about in the slightest.

In a way (a small, acceptable way), it felt like a taste of what it would be like if the two of you lived closer. If there weren’t towns, cities and states between the two of you. If you lived close by, or better yet, on the ranch with him.

Across the last few days, while you’d seemed upbeat through text—just as you were when the two of you were in Houston—he quickly realised how much of a mask that was when he had you on the phone.

If not for the fact that when you ended the call, you seemed more yourself than when it started, Javi would have already begged someone from a ranch or two over to help, and book a flight out to surprise you.

“Hello, charmer.”

Grinning, he runs his hand over his chin. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Well, I have good news.”

“What’s that then?”

“Remember when I said I had to meet with someone in Houston, from imports? Well, apparently, they’ve been trying to get hold of me at work—one of the few nice people there let me know, even passed my details on.”

It begins—right in his stomach. A nervousness, a bubble—it rising and rising, sliding into his heart as it makes it beat just that much quicker.

“He wants to meet with me… apparently, I impressed him?”

“That’s—fuck, that’s amazing, baby.”

Javi can almost hear your grin as you laugh—can even picture you hiding your face in your hand at his happiness.

“Yeah,” you say, more in a sigh than anything else. “It’s obviously just an interview—maybe even a chat, but it’s something.”

Tracing the back of the phone with his finger, he runs his fingers up his neck, up his chin—

Pulse thumping in his neck. “I could… Could always drive up, see you after?”

“Oh… um?”

Oh? He thinks. The noise suddenly on repeat. It’s all he can hear—that little surprised noise rips from your throat and punctures his ear. His own fingers scratching at his cheek.

And then you clear your throat, and he grits his jaw. “Well, if you wanted, once I’ve had my meeting with him, I was going to ask if I could come to Laredo, see the ranch… and you?”

Just as quickly as it came, the earlier shame from your ‘oh’ vanishes. It bursts, erupts into a thousand pieces of nothing as the edges of his lips begin to curl up.

“For a second, didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

You don’t laugh, don’t ridicule his confession, and if you were here, he’d imagine you’d have tilted your head in that way you do.

“Javi, of course, I want to see you. I…” you take a long pause as though battling with yourself. “Baby, I’ve been trying to find my way back to you since the moment I left you. There’s nothing I want more than to see you. I promise.”

His shoulders descend from his ears, a smile spreading across his face so large—he’s not sure anything could take it. Something inside of him shifted, sliding back together.

“So, do you mind if I come to see you on your ranch? Bother your animals, let me admire your fence work?”

If he hadn’t been sure before, he’s sure now he would have kissed you. Grip you by your cheeks and crash his mouth to yours, stealing that question mark from the air and using his lips to remind you that with him, you never need it.

But, since he can’t, he finds words. One’s that are more eloquent than ‘fuck, yes’, but are close in family to it.

Because, of course, he wants to see you. He never wanted to let you go in the first place.

an: we have next weeks and then an epilogue, and LNT 'main story' will be done. honestly, thank you for all the love as we've gone on this journey. i never expected this for one second, and i'm so emotional right now at how well loved/supported this story has been. i'm gonna miss it, so much.

[jewish-vents]

I'm so tired of antisemitism in every fandom space I am genuinely starting to feel detached from reality. My entire job is working with victims of violent crime (I identify bones and causes of death/bodily harm). I should be able to talk about Stardew Valley or Pokemon without seeing people talk about how much they hate us and want us dead or make edits of Pikachu on Palestine's flag - which, frankly, feels insulting to Palestine since human lives are a smidge more important than your fictional electric rodent. I should be able to see someone post a meme without people going, "ew Bernie Sanders meme" and "death to zionists" and "all eyes on Rafah!" in the comments. No one in Rafah is helped by this bullshit and no one here is either bc after a long 10 hour shift at work identifying the remains of a human trafficking victim buried in a shallow grave, I don't get moved or inspired by "zionists kys". I just sit there and go, "really? I can't even post about liking Dedenne more than Pikachu without seeing antisemitism?"

My therapist keeps saying not to focus on things outside of my control and to do grounding breathing exercises. Lately I've been dissociating when I do those exercises and even though I can feel my mental health getting work, I can't take time off. We need all hands on deck for this human trafficking murder case. I can't just walk away from work. But I can't unwind after work. Video games that used to bring me joy just remind me of all the people who have made it clear I'm not welcome in any of those games' fandoms. It feels like the walls are closing in all around me.

Yesterday a police officer I (unfortunately) had to interview made some snide remarks about my nose and last name and I told him, in detail, the probable causes of death for the child whose skeleton I've been studying, and ended it with, "and I don't think being antisemitic is going to bring her back, so you might want to focus on the murderers and traffickers operating in your town under your watch instead." I was reprimanded for taking things too personally. And I laughed in a kind of breaking-down-audibly kind of way. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was taking things personally to want to focus on the dead child we're investigating and not my nose. How frivolous and emotional of me. Aren't I silly? /s

Every day on the drive to and from work I look at spots on the bridge I draw over where I could easily climb up and jump off. I am falling apart and I can feel it and no one cares. Just do breathing meditation and don't think about what you can't control. Don't think about how you can't exist without it being a problem even online. Don't think about how above 250 feet, the survival rate drops to less than 1% and you could easily jump that. Mindfulness of the breath. Don't think. That's all I get for comfort.

.

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Cream Filling: Chapter Two

Warning: abusive ex partner/stalking

(Abusive ex appears and scares the mc, but nothing happens)

This is part two of a series. You can find part one here!

Elle felt a sense of relief wash over her when she turned the sign to closed. Once she locked the doors, she picked up a broom and began to sweep.  Humming softly, she paused when a shadow loomed over her. Turning, she looked up at the face of her coworker. 

Wrecks drummed his fingers together, his face pensive. 

“Hey.” She set the broom against the wall as Horac came through with a pile of dishes, grunting and snorting with the effort. 

“Shepard.” He began. 

“Please, call me Elle.” She interrupted, feeling her cheeks flushed at the last name. It was better than Elodie, but only just barely. They’d been working together for nearly four weeks, and he still acted so formally. 

Then again, she had terrified him the first day.

“Elle…” Wrecks drew out the syllable as if the single sound baffled him, before scowling. Clearing his throat, Wrecks removed his spectacles and wiped them off. 

“I have a favor to ask. And I’m terribly sorry to put you on the spot.” He patted at his pockets, before producing a carton of cigarettes. 

“I need a smoke. Join me?” 

They exited through the kitchen, with Wrecks lighting up. He offered the pack to Elle, but she shook her head. 

“I’m not sure how up-to-date you are on Drider culture.” Wrecks began, taking a long drag. Silvery green smoke floated up toward the sky in thin tendrils. Whatever was in the cigarettes wasn’t tobacco or cannabis. 

Elle shook her head. “Not really. I didn’t want to be rude and badger you on the job about it.” The scent of the smoke made her nose itch. Earthy, with a strange dankness. 

“Well.” He sighed. “Normally I don’t ask anyone this, but I’m in a tight spot.” Another drag. “The Festival of Arachne is coming up, so a lot of Driders are going to be swarming this part of town.” 

“Need a date?” Elle asked, before chuckling at his flustered expression. 

“No.” He said sharply, dragging out the vowel and making a slicing motion through the air. The smoke danced at the reaction. 

“Quite the opposite. I need to be far, far away from all of it.” He sighed. “I still have to work, since we’re shorthanded, but…”  

Inhaling sharply, he pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his spectacles up to his forehead. “I called around. I can’t stay in a human hotel without paying an exorbitant fee. And all the local ones are going to be filled to the brim with attendees.” Swallowing, he stubbed out the cigarette and stuck it in the breast pocket of his vest. 

“Can I stay at your place the week the festival is being held here?” He clasped his hands together. “I’m not saying I’ll be by myself while you’re at work. I’ll still come with you to the morning shift, but I want to… Minimize my exposure.” 

“Horac has his kids, and they’re terrified of me. Ram has his own place, but it’s too close to… All this. Night shift is going to be busy…” 

“Wrecks…” Elle bit her lip, “I live in a studio apartment, in the Leviathan district.” She felt her cheeks burning. “We’ll be in close quarters.” 

“I will pay half your month’s rent.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his wallet. “And I’ll buy groceries and pay for anything I use.” 

The one thing she couldn’t refuse. Money. 

Wrecks’ cheeks flushed, his pleading expression making it hard to say no. 

“You can’t smoke inside. Landlord’s rules.” She was trying to figure out how to fit him in her car when Horac bellowed for them to come back inside. 

“It’s bad enough when Spinner is rushing out for a smoke every hour.” The Boarman chastised when they came back in. “Don’t you slip into the habit, too.” 

Elle sighed, rolling her eyes and picking up a rag. He was right, but it still made her nervous to even fathom losing the job. She was going to make up for it by cleaning so well, they’d see reflections on every surface. 

***

Wrecks was silent on the drive back. His suitcase fit in the front seat, and he took up the entire back. His legs pushed the button to roll the window up and down. The breeze stirred Elle’s hair, making a few strands tickle the back of her neck. She kept her eyes on the road, but the sound was starting to get on her nerves. 

“You’re going to break it.” She warned him. “I’ve got the AC on, why do you keep messing with the window?” 

“Sorry.” He rolled the window up. “I’ve never been in a car before.” 

The statement baffled Elle so much she nearly pulled over to look at him. But traffic was too good to slow down. 

“How do you get around?” 

“I generally walk. Or swing.” He cleared his throat. “Webbing has many uses. I used to have a bridge from my place to the restaurant until some kids burnt it.”  

“Hopefully not while you were on it.” Elle frowned. 

“Arachne, no!” He shook his head. “Caused some damage to a local shop. The poor owner had to shut down for two weeks. Ramses paid for it all.” Sighing, he set an elbow on the armrest, rolling down the window. Eyes wide, he quickly rolled it back up. 

“Because he takes good care of his employees?” Elle asked, half laughing at the quote, before images of her first day flashed through her mind. Focusing on the road, she tried to ignore the tingling between her legs. 

Wrecks stifled his own laugh. “Yeah.” He looked around. “Can I smoke in the car?” 

“...Let me pull over.” 

“I can wait!” He insisted. 

When she pulled into the complex, the parking lot was mostly empty. Good. The fewer questions she’d have to answer, the better. 

Wrecks fell out of the back seat, unable to get proper footing in all six of his legs. After righting himself, he went to grab his suitcase. 

“I’m impressed you can afford this on your pay.” He remarked, looking at the entire building. "The things I heard about this side of the district made me think it was a shantytown."

Elle shook her head. “I wish.” She pointed at the top floor. “I live in one unit.” 

Locking her car, she began to head for the stairs. Wrecks hadn’t moved from his spot, still taking it in, a look of awe on his face. 

“What kind of place do you live in?” She grabbed his arm and tugged gently. The contact broke him out of the trance, and he began to follow her. 

“There’s a nice area not too far from work, right on the border between the Mammon and Satan District.” Wrecks explained. “A little swampy, but secluded.” He sighed. “But around this time of year, it’s unbearable.” Pulling his glasses off, he rubbed his brow. 

“Like a…” He frowned, trying to find the appropriate comparison. “...Let’s just say I wouldn’t be getting much sleep.” 

When they arrived at the door, Elle hesitated. She hadn’t brought anyone home since she’d moved in. Even with her frenzied cleaning, she hadn’t unpacked half her belongings. This place was barely lived in. 

“Do you… Not want me to come in?” Wrecks’ grip tightened on the handle of his suitcase. 

“It’s a little messy.” She admitted. 

“I’ve seen a nest after a clutch has been born.” Wrecks assured her. “It can’t be that bad.”

As the door creaked open, Elle flicked on the lights, making sure to kick off her shoes. Holding her purse close, she sidestepped to let Wrecks inside the available space in the living room.

The apartment was cramped, with her mattress taking up a third of the available space. At least she’d made the bed before leaving. There was a coffee table next to the bed, her laptop open and switched off resting on it. Bookshelves covered the walls, filled with her favorite texts and various magazines. Boxes filled most of the free space on the floor, with a small line to get to the kitchen, bed, one corner, and bathroom.   

She went to the corner, kneeling next to a small table. Lighting the half-melted candle, Elle counted her tips for the day and placed them in an envelope. 

Once she’d pressed a rune into the wax, sealing it, she set the papers aflame. Before the fire reached her fingers, it flickered away, leaving her hands closing on empty air. 

“I thought you weren’t a mage.” Wrecks was behind her, staring at the table, head cocked to the side. 

“I’m not.” Elle cupped the flame and blew it out, the scent of magic in the air. “I just use it to pay bills and send letters.” 

Wrecks pointedly looked at her laptop, raising a brow.

“When I don’t want them to trace it or bother me.” Elle crawled under his legs, standing once she was behind him. “You know how it is.” 

Going to the bathroom, she undid her buns and started to wipe off her makeup. The thought of dressing in the bathroom for the next week made her nearly groan in annoyance. But at least she’d have money. Even if it was only a little. 

When she came out, Wrecks was picking up various things from the floor and placing them on the coffee table and bed. Her clothes, powerstrips, he’d even gone to the kitchen and seized her empty cups and plates she hadn’t washed. 

“What… Are you doing?” 

He froze, slowly turning and picking a glass he’d just set down back up. “Sorry.” He looked around at the boxes scattered around the apartment, fingers twitching. 

Sucking in a breath, Elle looked around. “Is it going to bother you if my apartment looks like this?” It was an excuse to finally unpack… It had been a month. 

“You see…” Wrecks collected the cups and took them back to the kitchen. “A Drider will make their home kind of a… A nest? Since this place is so small.” He winced apologetically. “I just started…” 

“It’s okay.” Elle found herself smiling and giggling. “It’s actually kind of adorable.” She took a box and set it on her bed. “Help me unpack then?” 

There wasn’t actually much to organize once it was actually done. There was more clean-up than actual unpacking done. 

Breaking down boxes, hanging up and folding clothes, washing dishes seemed to ease the anxiety Wrecks was feeling. He was running the vacuum when she went to the kitchen and pulled out leftovers for dinner. As the container spun in the microwave, she realized. 

“Can you eat human food?” She knew there was a Monster Market down the street, but they closed before sundown. 

“Hm?” Wrecks put the vacuum cleaner next to a bookshelf. 

She pulled out the container when it was finished. “I wasn’t expecting a guest. I’m not sure what you all eat. We can go shopping tomorrow.” He had offered to buy groceries, after all. 

“Hm…” The kitchen became more cramped as Wrecks looked in the fridge. She once again found herself crawling under his legs to escape. 

Pulling out a package of defrosting meat, he sniffed it. “I think I can have this?” Holding it up, he stared at a few stray drops of blood trickling down his fingers. 

“...Sure.” Elle went to her laptop and shoveled down leftover rice and beans, doing her best to ignore the chewing sounds coming from the kitchen. Should she have gotten him a plate and utensils to eat with? 

Booting up her laptop, Elle suddenly remembered what she’d been watching before going to sleep. Her headphones rattled with the moans of a woman. They were plugged in, and she hoped Wrecks’ hearing wasn’t better than a human’s. 

A video of a woman moaning, bent over an altar, as a goat-headed man pounded her from behind flashed across the screen. Elle scrambled, managing to exit from the video in record time. Reopening her browser, she loaded up a TV show. 

Hovering back, Wrecks squinted at the screen. Elle patted the spot on the bed next to her. Slowly, he approached and prodded at the mattress with his front legs, before settling down awkwardly, tucking limbs under himself. 

Raw meat clung to his hands and he continued to eat, lapping at the blood on his fingers, trying to be quiet about it. He seemed transfixed by the show, his eyes wide and focused the entire time. Elle wondered if he had internet at his place. 

Wrecks washed the dishes again once the episode was over. Elle realized he was still in his uniform. 

“Erm, do you want to change into something more comfortable?” 

Wrecks looked down at his vest. 

“I suppose.” He cleared his throat, before rifling through his suitcase and then taking his new attire into the bathroom. Elle focused on the screen as she heard rustling and rattling, followed by noises of discomfort. 

“You alright in there?” She called. 

“Tiny…. Space!” He yelped, followed by a loud thud, and a metallic bang. “Ow!” 

Elle rushed into the bathroom, seeing Wrecks in the tub, the shower curtain wrapped around him, and the rod across his midsection. His legs twitched, running on the air and attempting to find solid ground. 

With a sigh, Elle offered her hand. He took it and she pulled him up, a task she didn’t think possible, then helped him out into the living room. Sighing, Wrecks unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. 

Turning her head, Elle gave him privacy but caught the Drider’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. His upper body was bony, void of any muscle, with a strange spider tattoo across his chest, his veins dark and resembling a web for it to sit on. 

He caught her looking, and sighed. 

“It’s Arachne’s mark.” He placed a hand on it. “I wanted to get it removed, but it turns out that isn’t an easy fix.” 

“Wait, I thought Arachne was the goddess or something?” Wrecks never stuck her as religious. 

“She is. But she still has followers in the material realm.” He pulled a t-shirt over his head, then let undid his braid. His hair fell down around his shoulders in a shaggy white mane. 

Her mind went to when she’d ingested the Admodues fruit, and how she’d tried to kiss him. How he’d shoved her back and tied her up, afraid. The thought cooled her off, and she gave him room to sit. 

At nine, she found herself nodding off. Wrecks was dozing himself, sharply inhaling when his head lulled. 

“I’ve got some extra blankets if you get cold,” Elle explained as she began to pile pillows on the floor. “As you… Saw.” 

Wrecks watched her curiously. “I don’t need them, but thank you. Why are you nesting on the floor?” 

“Because you’re the guest. So you get the bed.” She resisted the urge to suggest they share. 

Reaching down, Wrecks poked the mattress with his smaller foreleg again. 

“I don’t think I’ll be comfortable.” Tilting his head back, he looked at the ceiling. Raising his human arm, he knocked on the wall, placing his ear to it. Nodding to himself, he cleared his throat. 

“Can I make myself my own bedding?” 

“Um… Sure?” 

Elle watched as he used his webbing to create himself a hammock-like structure just below the ceiling, right above a bookshelf. Hopefully, it would hold, but his movements were practiced and confident, so she didn’t ask. 

Crawling back onto the mattress, Elle cocooned herself and settled down for the night. Her alarm would go off in a few hours. Hopefully, Wrecks wasn’t a grump in the morning. 

***

The candle lit. Elle jerked awake and saw the table in the corner glowing with the light of the fire. After a few heartbeats, the flame went from orange to pink. Arching a brow, Elle debated going over and blowing it out. Maybe someone had tried to communicate with a local mage and wires got crossed?  

Slipping off the bed, Elle went to the table and knelt. 

Her blood ran cold at the sight of the figure in the flame. In the magenta glow of the fire, stood a demon. Even though it was obscured by a pink tint, Elle knew it too well. 

Wavy brown hair framed his face, two flesh-colored horns growing from his brow. His eyes were purple, with black sclera. He grit his teeth, showing fangs that she certainly remembered. 

He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, with purple runes and symbols twisting up his bare arms. His hand paused, tracing a pattern in the air, his nails seeming to retract as he lowered his fist.

“Elodie.” He crooned, the name twisting around her with Power. “Let me in, babe.” He leaned against something on his side, eyes coming close to whatever he was using to scry. “I know you’re right there.” 

He pulled back, his hand hovering in the air, offering Elle to take it. She stared at it, seeing the pink fall away, the flesh taking on a peachy color. Despite knowing she shouldn’t, she reached for it. 

Then, Elle had her mind back. Blinking, she scraped her nails against the wall as her hands became fists. She started to stand, but the flame grew brighter, lighting up the room better than any bulb could. 

He was manifesting, his scent overpowering her. Breathing caught in her throat. It was like the berries all over again, the way her body was reacting. No. She had to stay focused. 

“What do you want?” Fear and anger warred in her chest. How could he have found her? No one was supposed to know about her current residence. The table was supposed to cloak her location from any scryers unless she gave permission. 

“Aw. I wanted to see you.” He reached for her, but his hands shook. Small waves of Power rose from the floor. 

A threshold had finally formed… Not enough to keep him from coming through, but he would lose a lot of his power or injure himself to push past it. She thought about rushing back and grabbing her charm, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

“I see you’ve gotten comfortable.” Anger started to creep into his voice. 

Elle took a step forward, about to smother the candle. She reached for the tool on the table.  

“Fuck off, Adrian.” 

She went to snuff it, but he reached through the threshold and put a hand on the douter. His skin blistered and twisted, the runes glowing with heat. Lip twitching, he took another step toward her, the veins in his face contorting. 

Then, his eyes widened. 

“A fucking Drider?” Clenching his jaw, he released the door, reaching for the front of Elle’s shirt. “What, you can’t take a dick anymore? So you have to have someone who doesn’t-” 

A hand shot over Elle’s shoulder and seized Adrian by the wrist. Pink power twisted around, and she saw it glowing brightly against grey skin. 

“Raise your hand like that again, and I’ll throw you into the Underdark.” Wreck’s voice was raspy with sleep. Elle hadn’t even heard him get out of bed. 

Adrian yanked his hand back, teeth bared. 

“Careful who you threaten, Drider.” Rolling his shoulders, Adrian slammed his hand against the barrier. 

“You know he’s never going to give you what I did!” He hit the barrier again, his hands twisting to claws. 

Blood and sparks showered Elle, and she raised her hands to shield herself. A hand grabbed the nape of her neck and pulled. She screamed, starting to thrash as she heard the flame snuff out. 

“Shepard!” Wrecks shook her. “It’s me. Keep your mouth closed.” He produced a rag and wiped her face. “Demon blood is toxic. If you swallow it…” 

Elle’s teeth chattered and she shivered. Wrecks cleaned her face, his expression solemn. 

Putting hands to her face, Elle doubled over and took in deep breaths. 

“You’re shaking.” 

“I’m fine.” She said, with more anger than she intended. Swallowing, she straightened and staggered to the mattress, plopping on it. Wrecks picked up his spectacles and put them on, coming over with the rag and offering it. 

She shook her head, putting a hand to her cheek. It was sensitive, probably burned from the blood. 

“Can you get my work uniform?” 

“You’re going to work after that?” Wrecks asked in disbelief. 

“We’re shorthanded. And if I don’t go, neither do you.” She felt the urge to run, to grab her important papers and flee once the sun came up. 

No… This was her place. She wasn’t going to give it up. All she wanted to do was scream, her eyes going to the corner table. Some cloaking spell. 

Fabric brushed against her arm. Looking up, she saw Wrecks with her uniform folded over his forelegs. He’d thrown on his button-up shirt but had left it undone. 

“Are you okay?” She took the uniform and held it to her chest. 

“I just…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I thought he was going to hit you. It was hard to tell because…” He waved a hand in front of his glasses. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Do you want me to call Ramses?” 

The name made her stomach drop. “No. Leave him out of this.” 

She went to the bathroom, staring at the red splattering on her cheek. Touching it, she winced. It was like a wicked sunburn. At least she could take a petty comfort in the fact that Adrian hurt himself enough to bleed trying to get through. 

Prodding it a little more, she shook her head. It would sting, but if she didn’t cover it up, there was no doubt in her mind word would get back to Ramses. As Elle dressed, she tried to psych herself up. 

Work was good. It was money. And once the last bits of her debts were paid off, she could save up to sever this tie once and for all. 

Her reflection was blurry as she applied foundation. Face stinging, she sniffed and shook her head. She could cover it up all she wanted, but the pain would always be a reminder. Even if he never got physical, Adrian could still find ways to hurt her. 

Once she decided her face was presentable, she exited the bathroom and the apartment, locking the door and deadbolt. On her way to her car, she tossed the candle in the garbage after breaking it into thirteen pieces, as she’d been instructed to. It neutralized the spells it could cast. Saving for a new one… 

Wrecks paused to smoke, but his eyes scanned the parking lot. She felt a pang of guilt in her stomach. He’d been trying to stay out of trouble, and she’d drug him into the middle of it. 

The drive was silent. Elle stared at the road, Wrecks sprawled in the backseat, rubbing his forelegs together in what looked like a self-soothing gesture. The window was cracked, the morning breeze rolling over them both. 

“So, who was he?” Wrecks prodded. 

“An incubus I summoned when I was young and dumb.” Elle sighed. “I didn’t read the fine print.” She shuddered at the memory. “I’d rather not go into intimate details.” 

“Could have stopped at ‘incubus’.” Wrecks laced his fingers together, resting them on his stomach. “He called you ‘Elodie’.” The Power crackled in the air. 

“And he said you didn’t have a dick. Both things we didn’t…” She sighed, shaking her head. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” Wrecks shrugged. “He’s right you know, and-” 

“Don’t.” She warned, before sighing in relief as they approached the restaurant. Horac was there, talking on the phone and rubbing his face. 

“Behave for Mama, alright?” He quickly hung up, giving them a two-finger wave.

“Morning.” He grunted, before watching with fascination as Wrecks attempted to get out of the car. “You alright, Elle?” 

“Rough morning.” Elle went to Wrecks and pulled, freeing him from the vehicle. He stumbled, before righting himself and smoothing his shirt. 

“Uptick in tourists.” Horac pulled the front door open. “Expect a busy day.” 

He fixed a human-friendly coffee for Elle (they were to keep at least one edible meal for her in the restaurant at all times, and to inspect every ingredient that came through) and the sludgy liquid for themselves. 

The coffee helped wake Elle up and stave off the anxiety. She still felt jittery. But the feeling of something about to snatch her away started to dissipate. 

Horac eyed the two of them, before sighing. 

“Look, did something happen?” 

Wrecks looked at Elle, eyes urging her to speak. 

Sighing, Elle looked at her mug. The man had kids. He knew when things were off. 

“My ex showed up this morning. Things got a little heated, but he left.” She looked to Wrecks. “It’s nothing you need to go to Ramses about.” 

“Did you call the human authorities?” Horac crossed his large arms. “Or the Guardians? The Church?” 

Elle sucked in air through her teeth. “It’s more complicated than that.” She rubbed her face. “But he’s a coward. He won’t come after me during the day.” Like all Demons, he was weak to the sun. He’d puff out his chest at someone, but physical fighting was beneath him. And if he saw Horac, he’d never come near her. 

Horac sighed, nodding. 

“Let’s open up. It’s almost five.” 

***

Elle hadn’t seen so many Driders in her life. They chatted as she wove through tables. Occasionally, one would do a double-take at the human serving their pastry or coffee. She craned her neck, trying to see if any had the same marking as Wrecks. 

“So, it is true.” One whispered as Elle scurried by with a tray of dirty dishes. “He does have a human working for him.” 

“Do you think that means the rumors about the intact male working here are true?” 

The phrase made Elle go stiff for a moment, having to mentally tell herself what to do rather than rely on muscle memory. The phrasing was so odd it gave her pause. Suppressing a snort, she ducked in the kitchen and noticed Wreck was further back than normal. He was intentionally staying away from the window. 

And he hadn’t gone out for a smoke since they’d opened. 

There was no way… Elle found her head tilting, but shook herself when she realized the implications. 

The breakfast rush ended, with Wrecks throwing himself out the backdoor for a smoke. Elle picked up her phone and saw it had been blown up with calls and texts from an unknown number. Sighing, she blocked it and wondered if it was time for a new one. 

It would be a shame she couldn’t even celebrate the bonus and extra tips all the customers were passing over. 

“I swear their numbers get bigger every year,” Horac commented, breaking her daze. “I’ve heard rumors they’re going to move the festival to the Beezelbub district next year.” He looked at the freezer. “We’re about cleared out.” 

“The truck’s going to be here tomorrow,” Elle assured him. “And worst case, I can run to-” 

There was a loud thud as something hit the side of the building. The two shared a look of confusion before Elle headed out the front door. As she rounded the building, she saw a bunch of webbing all over the ground and side of the building. 

“-think I can’t smell you?” A voice broke through the air. “What the fuck, Wrecks? Why are you hiding out here?” 

“Calamity,” Wrecks whined in response. “You’re hurting me.” 

Peeking around the corner, Elle saw a female Drider pinning Wrecks against the wall, her human arms holding his wrists above his head. Webbing and threads tangled his legs, so getting away would be impossible. 

Wrecks caught her eye, and he shot back a piteous look. The universal expression of “help me.” 

“You’ve got a duty to your people and Arachne.” Calamity argued. “And you’re wasting it playing chef for a demon?” 

“Excuse me.” Elle approached slowly, her cheek burning. 

Calamity whipped around, front legs flexing. Glittery black eyes stared down at Elle. There was no question she was beautiful, human or Drider. Her features were sharp, each eye glittering like onyx in the sun. Long hair fell around her hips, accentuating her tasteful blouse and scarf. Even her fingers were well-manicured, rings sparkling on each one. It made Elle suck in a breath. 

“Fuck off, human.” She sniffed. “This doesn’t concern you.” 

Elle walked closer, not breaking eye contact. Her legs threatened to give out.

“You’re hurting Wrecks.” Elle struggled to keep her voice steady. “Leave him alone.” 

Calamity snorted, brushing a curtain of black hair from her eyes. She was a lot taller than Wrecks, and towered over Elle. If she whipped her legs, it would send Elle flying. 

“You think because you have a Demon Prince for a boss that means you can order Underworlders around? Because you’re in for a rude awakening.” 

“A what now?” Elle’s shock must have shown, barely registering the first part. Calamity’s expression darkened, silvery drool dribbling down her lips. 

“Enough!” Horac bellowed, voice rumbling hard enough to rattle the windows of the restaurant. “I normally wouldn’t hit a lady, but if you don’t stop harassing these two, I’ll make an exception.” 

He and Calamity glared at one another, before she broke free, slashing Wrecks across the stomach, tearing his shirt and vest open. His cigarette carton fell to the ground. 

When she walked past Elle, the hatred of her expression was palpable. 

Running to Wrecks, Elle pulled at the weaving. The webbing wasn’t just sticky, but it also seemed to have… Something on it that tore at her skin. While it didn’t leave gashes, there were tiny cuts that would be a pain. 

“Ah…” Wrecks winced. “Stop pulling at it.” 

Rolling his shoulders, he yanked his legs free. The motion sent a crack up the wall. They both stared at it with wide eyes. 

Swallowing, Elle offered her hand to him. His fingers wrapped around hers, and she led him back inside. Even though he probably didn’t need it, there was a silent appreciation. 

“Should we call an ambulance?” Would he even fit in one?

“I’m fine.” Wrecks assured her as Horac locked the backdoor. “She didn’t break the skin. Although I did like this shirt.” He tried to hold the tattered ends together frowning when they came apart. 

“This is going to be a bitch to fix.” 

Elle knew it had to be serious. Wrecks rarely even rose his voice. To have him swearing, even if it was a ‘minor’ one… 

“Well, she must have rattled you up pretty good if you’re cursing like that.” She said, grabbing a paper towel and using it to soak up the blood blossoming on her palms. 

“Shepard, I can have a filthy mouth, I choose not to.” Wrecks held this hands over the rip and sighed. “It’s hard finding shirts in my size…” 

Horac sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, tusks wiggling in irritation. “This is the kinda crud that night shift is supposed to deal with.” 

They didn’t reopen for lunch, with a bandaged covered Ramses on the phone with a local contractor. He apologized to Wrecks over and over, promising a bonus, paid overtime. 

“It’s fine, really.” Wrecks assured him. “I’m just sorry for breaking the building.” 

“Buildings can be replaced,” Ramses replied. “You can’t.” He rubbed the phone’s screen against his brow. “We may have to close down for the festival.” 

“Horac and I can handle it.” Elle piped up, not wanting to go back to her apartment. “Maybe only close for lunch so you can prep the bar?” 

“The full moon is coming up, too. We’re out of food until tomorrow… All these thirsty Driders will probably be wanting drinks…” Ramses groaned. “Ugh. Too much is happening at once.” He smacked the heels of his palms against his horns. 

“Perhaps I could help?” A sing-song voice called out. With a crack like a whip, Tanpopo was sitting on the front counter, fanning himself with a menu. 

Ramses put himself between the Kitsune and Elle. He made a fist, the residue on his hands beginning to seep through the bandages. 

“Oh relax, Mammy.” Tanpopo set the menu down, pulling out a proper fan and unfolding it. Waving it, he sighed. “I’m not here to play with your human. I’m here because I want to make a deal.” 

“Want me to throw him out?” Horac asked, popping his knuckles loudly. 

“Oh, call off your Pig, Mammy.” Tanpopo scowled. “I don’t like these Driders anymore than you do. The heat makes them aggressive. The less of them concentrated in one area, the better. Besides.” He smirked. “Having a Demon Prince owe me a favor would be simply divine.” 

“How about you leave before I skin you alive for drugging my employee.” Ramses lip split, red drops spilling on the floor. 

“Oh come now, you can’t put all that on me.” The fan snapped closed. “She didn’t have to eat the cakes I brought her.” He looked pointedly at Horac. 

“And weren’t you supposed to be a deterrent? Shame you chose to leave early that day. Are your Piglets at home doing well? Your Sow?” 

The Kitsune grinned. “Now, if we’re all done being squabbling children.” He tapped the fan to his lips. “I keep a favor on retainer, you get some extra hands.” 

“No.” Ramses shook his head. “Never darken my doorstep again.” 

“Fine. Your loss.” With another crack, Tanpopo was gone. His voice faded slowly. “And here I thought you would want a profit.” 

“Boss?” Horac asked. 

“Go home. I’ll handle things here.” Ramses snarled. 

“Understood.” Horac cleared his throat and was out the door. “I’m gonna pick up my kids.” There was worry in his voice. 

“I’m sorry, Ramses.” Wrecks stuttered. “I-” 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Ramses forced a smile, which made his fangs show. Elle felt a flush of heat go through her. Even if it was fake, the Demon was dazzling. “I knew the risk when you took you on.” 

He turned to Elle. “He’s staying with you?” 

Elle nodded. “For now, until the festival is over.” 

“Good. Head home.” Ramses’ tone left no room for debate. “I expect you to perform up to par or better upon return.” 

“Yes, sir.” Elle nodded, about to turn when Ramses grabbed her arm. Gently, so she could pull free with little effort. Even the slight touch made the liquid start to bubble under the bandages. He kept his face stoic, despite his eyes becoming watery with pain. 

“Are you okay?” He nodded to her hands, his eyes scouring her face. Could he see the marks left by Adrian? 

She pulled herself free before he could.  

“Of course!” Elle forced a smile of her own, before turning to Wrecks. “You ready?” 

***

Wrecks was fiddling with his shirt for what felt like hours while Elle watched him and the show she’d put on. Finally, she dug out her sewing kit. 

“No!” He insisted, “I can do it.” He clutched the shirt protectively. 

“You’re driving me crazy!” She set the sewing kit on the coffee table. “Give it here.” She held out her hand expectantly. 

“No.” He hissed, before crawling up to his mini nest. 

Elle sighed and rubbed her face before she settled back down on the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Nothing to talk about.” He said sharply. “Calamity was a friend. Things changed.” Realizing his tone, he sighed and set the shirt down, descending and sitting next to Elle. 

“Drider women get crazy this time of year.” 

She watched him rock, forelegs rubbing together. 

“And you’re not?” 

Wrecks looked toward the window. “Can’t work, can’t go outside, my mind is racing.” He shut the blinds. “What do you do to relieve stress?” 

Elle raised a brow, pausing the show and closing her laptop. They weren’t watching it anyway.  

“What’s that look for?” 

“I don’t think you’re ready for that answer.”  

His face screwed up in realization. “Shepard!” 

“You asked.” 

He rubbed his face. “I forget humans are always ready to go.” He laid back on the mattress, legs pointed straight up. It was almost comical. 

“How do you put up with it? I can barely weave two thoughts together.” 

Elle rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m constantly humping anything that moves.” She held up a finger when he opened his mouth. “The Asmodeus Fruit was a one-time exception, and I was drugged.” 

Wrecks closed his mouth, eyes rolling to the side as he pursed his lips, before opening it again. “How did that work out, anyway?” 

The memory of Ramses’ hands over her body, his lips on her skin… Elle shook her head. They’d agreed not to talk about it. 

“He had the antidote. I drank it and we were fine.” She answered quickly, cheeks burning. There was some truth to it. “Although I did give him a run for his money.” Her legs clamped together, the sensation of the silk binding them… 

“Your bindings helped a lot.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s one of the first things we learn to spin. It’s pretty easy.” As he spoke, he wove a few strands around his wrist. “And tying things up… It’s a useful skill.” He swallowed. 

“I prefer to use mine to make things.” He paused, braiding the silk into a bracelet and passing it over to Elle. 

Slipping it on her wrist, Elle watched it slide down. It rested above the crook of her elbow, a small silken spider dangling from the braiding. Wrecks looked disappointed at the result. 

“It’s fine!” She assured him, slipping it around her throat. “I’ve always been more of a choker girl, anyway!” 

He stared at the spider, flicking it and giving a slight smile. 

“Last year, I made some clothes for Horac’s daughters. The silk in Ramses parasol? I made that too.” He smiled, “I didn’t really… Pursue my passions in childhood. I was one of Arachne’s chosen, so I was slotted for other purposes.” 

“Oh.” Elle winced. “You weren’t like… In a cult or something, were you?” 

“Depends on your definition.” He shrugged. “Arachne’s followers have their beliefs. A woman was punished by the Gods to become a spider because she mocked and bested them.” He sighed. “And those who were nearby or came to her defense were cursed as well.” 

Taking more strands, he began to weave them around his fingers, making a cat’s cradle. “Talented weavers, but cursed in their own ways. Some Driders follow without taking it to the extreme, but…” He dropped a few strands, forming “witch’s broom”. “If you were one of her ‘chosen’ you’d be in a cage.”   

Elle put a hand to her throat, touching the spider. “Why aren’t you working as like… A tailor or something?” 

Wrecks shrugged. “I’ve always liked cooking, too. The wages for a Drider in the textile business can be… Lower than you would think.” He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “I don’t want to bore you with Underworld Politics, but let’s just say Ramses is rather… Progressive for our kind.” 

Our kind? Elle opened her mouth to ask, but closed it, letting him continue. It made sense demons and creatures of the Underdark communicated and interacted regularly. 

“Anyway, I wanted to make you something. I’ve been wanting to spin all day it’s been driving me crazy. Having someone else give me orders… It’ll help.” He slid more webbing around his fingers. “I guess being a follower never really left my nature.” 

Elle stared at it, before biting her lip. So many uses for ropes… 

No. Focus.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” 

Wrecks shrugged. “I’ve gone to therapy about it. They gave me some good coping mechanisms. But this time of year… It’s hard. Because I want to partake, it’s part of my culture.” His forelegs rubbed together so much, Elle worried they would spark. 

“But I don’t want children. If I father a clutch, any like me will relieve my childhood. And those who aren’t… They’ll grow up in the Underworld or on the fringes of society.” 

‘The intact male…’ 

“I thought you said Driders didn’t…” Her eyes went to where skin met chitin.

“Most don’t,” Wrecks corrected. “An intact male… It’s a rarity.” He inhaled sharply. “Driders are about 75 percent women, with the remaining 25 percent consisting of males, mostly neutered. I couldn’t give you an exact number, but maybe one out of eight clutches will produce an intact male?” 

“Normally, they would give someone like me a little harem or something, never have to work a day in my life. Luxury, wanting for nothing. In exchange, I could never leave the Underworld, and once the Mating Season began....” He let himself trail off, sighing deeply. 

“But I didn’t want that life.” Sighing, he shook his head. “I know this is sounding like a pity party… Poor little privileged Drider complaining about how his perfect life sucked.” 

Elle put a hand on his shoulder. He stared at it, then gave a strained smile. 

“If you didn’t want it, you didn’t want it.” She chuckled nervously. “I understand why you tied me up now.” 

“I generally don’t do it.” He cleared his throat. “When you tried to kiss me, I was worried that some of the berry residues would get on me and it would trigger my mating cycle.” The blush spread down his neck. “I grew up with very aggressive pursuers. And we can be… Violent when mating.” 

Elle slid her hand off his shoulder and put it in her lap. “I’m sorry.” 

“You were under the influence, so I don’t hold it against you.” He stroked her hair. “When Calamity had me tied up and struck me, it got triggered.” Swallowing, he nervously rubbed the back of his head. 

“You see… When Driders go into their cycles, they pair off and mate for the duration of it. Sometimes, there’s combat involved.” 

“Combat!?” Elle sputtered. “Why?” 

“Because we’re predatory. A female needs a strong male to fertilize her clutch. Otherwise, the children born will most likely be neutered, so the legends say.” He rolled his eyes, waving a hand dismissively. “Usually, a dozen or so are born per cycle, but maybe five will make it to adulthood.” 

“Oh.” Elle swallowed, suddenly feeling guilty. This sounded barbaric. She thought of Calamity, her anger. Had she had children that…? 

“It’s… Complicated.” He tucked a few stray strands of hair behind Elle’s ear, the touch making her shiver. “I know you stepped in as my friend and I was looking at you when it got triggered. If you had been a Drider, it would have probably mate bonded us for the cycle.” 

Elle blushed. “I’m not looking for that kind of commitment.” Or another Adrian. The thought made her shiver. 

“Oh. No!” Wrecks waved his hands. “I didn’t mean to imply that! But… When you kissed me that day, even if you didn’t consider it one, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I… Really was flattered. I know outside the Underdark, I’m… Rather frightening. What made me special is common here.”  

He swallowed hard, tongue flicking across his lips, leaving a silvery residue. “And when you came to my rescue, I felt the same pang that I normally would when trying to bond. I know we’re different species, so you probably couldn’t even comprehend such a thing-” 

His face fell, “Not that I’m implying you’re too stupid to, or anything, but-” He inhaled sharply and rubbed his brow. “I have six feet, and I’m shoving them all in my mouth.” 

Elle patted his leg closest to her. “I get what you mean.” 

“Even though we aren’t bonded. Can’t be bonded.” Wrecks explained, “I’m… happy you still came to my aid. And… I do think you’re attractive. And it’s not just the attempted bond talking.” He twisted a section of hair around his finger, staring at it. “I’m not… Good at these types of things.” 

“That’s okay.” She focused on the laptop. “I won’t hold it against you. And I know you’re… Sort of under an influence of your own.” 

Swallowing, he rubbed his hands together. “But it will only last a week or so. After that, my feelings will plummet right back down to platonic. And I do have some self-control.”

She swallowed, closing her eyes. A way to regain control… 

“Why not have fun then?” Elle asked. “You can blow off some steam, and don’t have to worry about a clutch.” 

Wrecks sputtered. “Shepard! I… Look, I know I’ve probably put you in an awkward spot. But, you’re my friend and coworker first. Erm… Well, I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything you don’t want to and…” Realization dawned on him as she shot him a look. 

“Oh.” He paused. “Wait, you… I mean, the incubus was one thing, but-” 

“Do you need a minute to process?” She felt her cheeks flush. 

Lips were on hers. Front legs wrapped around Elle’s hips, pulling them close. Bitter liquid pooled in her mouth.

Gagging, Elle pulled away and spat, seeing silvery liquid on the coffee table. 

“S-Sorry.” Wrecks gave her a rag. “That’s venom. It’s harmless, though. I keep myself on a strict diet to remove the toxins.” He watched as Elle dabbed at her lips. 

Her mouth tingled, but there seemed to be no ill effects.

“Just caught me off guard.” She found herself smiling, despite it all.

“Do you want to stop?” He swallowed, setting her down. 

“It’s fine!” Elle assured him. “Just uh… Warn a girl next time.” 

“Then… Do you mind if I undress you?” 

“Let me do it.” She pushed him against the mattress, straddling him. His legs tangled with hers. 

Grabbing her shirt, Elle pulled it over her head. 

Wrecks stared at her bra, before looking horribly confused. He ran his hands over it, before pulling at the cups and straps. Elle sighed, and reached back and unhooked it, knowing she’d have to educate him later. 

Wrecks reached up, rolling her nipple between his fingers. Then, he leaned forward, circling his tongue around it, teeth grazing the tip. 

More venom dribbled down her skin, the tingling following. The sensation made Elle’s nipples go erect, the arousal fanning inside her. A soft moan escaped her and she ground against him. 

“I guess that means I’m going it right.” Wrecks chuckled, holding onto her hips. “I’ve never felt a breast before. They’re soft.” He held it in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Drider women… Don’t have to-” 

She put a finger to his lips. “You’re not with a drider. You’re with a human.” 

Eyes wide, Wrecks slowly nodded. Hands trailed lower, and Elle slipped out of her pants, smashing breasts to his face to do so. When she settled again, his cheeks were inflamed.

He stared at her panties, frowning as his forelegs tugged at the waistband. It snapped against Elle’s skin, making her yelp. 

“I don’t want to rip it.” 

“Slow down.” She laughed, slipping his shirt off over his head. “I don’t even know where to touch you.” 

“It’s still flesh like yours above the waist.” He guided her hand over his chitin, around where she assumed a human groin would be. There was a slit. It was widening at her touch. Running her fingers over the edges, she felt him squirm under the touch. 

Then, she tried to stick a finger in. 

Wrecks flinched, shaking his head and squeezing her shoulders. “No. That’s not what that’s meant to do.” Elle quickly pulled her finger out, resting a hand on the widening hole. 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m fighting against biology, hold on.” 

“Maybe you could try tying me up?” She suggested. “Make me a conquest?” 

“You wouldn’t be able to stop me, then.” Wrecks shifted. “I could hurt you.” 

Elle leaned forward where his neck and shoulder met. She planted a kiss, then sucked hard on the skin, using her teeth. 

Wrecks yelped, grabbing the back of her head. “You’re going to leave a mark…” He whimpered when she moved across his collarbone. Something slick and hard pressed against her, fluid trickling down her thighs. 

Staring at the mark on the Drider’s neck, Elle ground against him again. 

“You’re drenched. I can feel it, even through your panties.” A leg tugged at the waistband. He ran his lips over Elle’s, before pressing hard to the nape of her neck. Their mouths locked again, and she threw her arms around him. 

One leg pushed her panties to the side, and she felt him pressing. Slick and wet, like a very stiff tongue. She wondered if it would be colored like his skin or the chitin.

Reaching down, she guided him inside. Wrecks gasped, hands and legs digging into her skin. More drool and venom dripped onto her cheek. 

“I keep feeling the urge to attack you.” He winced.

“Do you want to stop?” It pained her to say, but the distress was obvious. 

“Just…” His cheeks were purple, “Take control?” 

“Can you make any webbing?” 

He nodded, and she used it to bind his wrists above his head, using the wall to secure it. The legs behind his cock were bound together, and his legs above it to his thorax. Unlike Calamity’s, his webbing was smooth.

He whimpered at first and Elle worried that he would be reminded of Calamity, but his (black!) cock was drooling and erect, and he nodded in approval. More venom drooled out, but he assured her it was normal. 

Lastly, she bound his neck with a leash so he couldn’t rear up and bite her.  

“You alright? Knots aren’t too tight?” 

“I’m… Fine.” He blushed as his cock twitched. “You’ll have to teach me how to do this.” 

Putting her hand at the nape of his neck, she gripped the leash tightly, holding it in place as she straddled him, slipping back onto his cock. The motion made him gasp, his abdomen rocking so he could penetrate further. 

The length was almost too much to take, but she knew how to work around that. Rolling her hips, she found a rhythm that worked. Resting against his bound forelegs, she planted a kiss on his jaw, which made him shudder. 

He thrust against Elle, the motion sending warmth through her body. She pressed her free hand to the wall, continuing to rock her hips and take him nearly to the base. 

Wrecks moans and whimpers grew louder, and she debated gagging him, but knew it would only make him panic. 

“I have neighbors, remember?” She hissed. 

“S-Sorry. Just feels too good.” He gasped, the bite mark on his neck nearly turning black.

 Tingling on her skin made Elle’s skin pebble, each thrust drowning her in wave after wave of pleasure. Leaning down, she covered Wrecks’ lips with her own. Venom pooled in her mouth, more salty than bitter this time 

The barrage of her mouth and tongue made Wrecks’ body grow scorching hot, the binding suddenly ripping apart, tattered silk flying everywhere. His legs wrapped around hers, spreading them wide. Forelegs pulled them close together, holding Elle against his chest as he began to thrust with vigor, hilting each time. 

“F-fuck, Elle…” 

She couldn’t help it and laughed. 

“What?” He swallowed, brows raised. 

“It’s just… The first time you’ve ever called me by my first name.” And if she had her way, it would be said several more times. 

She stayed close as she felt the pleasure building, her high-pitched gasps filling his ears. The noise encouraged him further and he pushed as much of himself into her as possible, before yelping when she clenched. 

Back arching, Elle shuddered as the orgasm hit. The sudden change made Wrecks flinch. His legs dug into her like nails as his own body trembled, the stimulation too much. His cock twitched, fluid spilling out of her and onto the bed. 

And just kept coming. 

“Ah!” She yelped, trying to disentangle herself and save the blankets. 

She should have laid down towels! What was she thinking? The more she struggled, the tighter Wrecks’ hold became.

“S-sorry. It’s for a clutch, remember?” His legs twitched, holding her in place until he finished. "I'm not holding you like this on purpose." His cheeks flared. "I have to make sure you, uh, get... Fertilized. Even if it's not possible."

Once he released her, she pulled him onto the floor. Switching on her fan, she let the cool air roll over them as they tried to catch their breath. 

“Are you okay?” He brushed damp wisps of hair from her face. 

“I’m fine.” She chuckled, smiling. “I guess that’s one thing off my ‘fuck-it’ list.” 

“Your what!?” 

With wobbly legs, she managed to get to the bathroom and rinse off, barely able to stand for the short shower. 

When she came out, he had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and was trying to clean the comforter with a wet rag. 

And bleach.

“Wrecks!” She about full-body tackled him. 

“I was trying to fix it!” He said awkwardly around the cigarette. His front legs twitched, pulling her into an awkward embrace as they wrapped around her thighs, just under her rear. “Because I wanted to… Try again.” 

Elle felt herself blushing, even more so when she saw the head start to peek out from the slit again. Swallowing, she retrieved towels from the bathroom while he tossed the comforter to the side. 

“Okay. But we’re going to do it right this time. And you still have to smoke outside.” 

Next part here!

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Too Close

Javier Peña x fem!reader

Part two

Series masterlist

Blog masterlist

Eight o’clock sharp, you’re standing in the small apartment lobby, staring at the faded paint on the walls chipping. Your outfit of your first day at your new job is simple and classy—or you hope so, at least. A short, white, plaid pencil skirt combined with formal but comfortable shoes, and a plain white button-up blouse that shows your midriff. Your hair is down, just washed, styled in that way that makes you feel most confident.

You’re still nervous. Nervous off your fucking ass. And the prospect of seeing Javi, of having him take you to work, of spending time with him…It makes you flustered. He’s handsome, he’s witty, he’s kind. From what little you’ve met of him until now, he’s just your type.

But…

But he’s older. He’s much older. He must be what? Thirty-four? Thirty-five? Thirty six? Somewhere in between, you guess. And why would a man like him even glance at you? You’re a kid to him. He’s almost twice your age. What are you thinking?

You hear a door opening and keys jingling. A moment later, Javi walks to the lobby in a red button-up tucked into his jeans, a belt holding them up. He’s wearing a jacket and a tie, and he looks…

Fuck, he looks hot, you think, trying not to think about it.

“Mornin’,” he greets, those dark eyes taking in your outfit.

You feel yourself growing a little uneasy, shifting your weight around a tad. “Is this okay?” you ask of your outfit. “Does it get too cold here?”

He shakes his head. “Your outfit’s fine,” he tells you. “But I might need to take you out into the field with me sometimes, and it would probably be better for you to wear something that’s comfortable in case we need to stay out all day.”

You pause. “You're gonna take me into the field?” Your voice should be afraid; instead, you're delighted.

He chuckles. “No where too dangerous,” he promises. “Just little meetings with sources. Nothing for you to worry about. Besides, I'll be there to keep you safe.”

You smile softly. “My grandpa never let the other agents take me out onto the field. He was too afraid of me getting in harm’s way, I guess.”

“Dealing with sources isn't really that dangerous,” he tells you as he places a hand on the small of your back to lead you to the underground parking lot of the building. Tingles brush up your spine. “Worst parts are when we burst into coke labs or hideouts, stuff like that.”

“They're also the most exciting, I bet,” you say. “I mean, dangerous, obviously. But the adrenaline…”

He chuckles. “It's only exciting if you survive,” he points out. “Usually there are more funerals than celebrations after those kinds of raids.”

You're silent for a second. “I…Yeah, you're right.” Your voice turns soft, pensive. Of course it's not some game. What are you thinking? You're seeing it from a journalist’s perspective, not from a DEA agent’s. Raids make great stories, sure. But having to participate in those raids…

You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re now a member of the DEA, not a journalist. The world isn’t only about telling stories now, it’s about living them.

Javier leads you to his car and opens the passenger door for you. Immediately, you're blushing again, nervous and flattered. You stutter out a thank-you and Javi chuckles smoothly.

He gets in the driver's seat and, oh, God, if you thought he was hot, watching him drive just about sends you hurling over the edge. The way his aviators give him a mysterious hue, the early-morning sunlight shining through the window as he drives you through Colombia…

His nose, his lips, his jawline���Oh, you want to kiss it all. Kiss his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his lips. Oh, those lips…

You realize you're staring when Javi glances at you, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You alright there?” he chuckles.

You blush, snapping your head away, glancing out the windshield. “Y-yeah. Fine. I'm just…trying to get a bearing of my surroundings, y'know. I'm gonna have to drive to the embassy myself eventually,” you say quickly, hoping your voice doesn't quiver as much as you think it does.

“I wouldn't mind driving you every morning,” he says casually, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift. “We leave the same building and get to the same place. Problem would be when we each gotta go our separate ways.”

“Yeah.” You nod. “You work late?” you ask, out of curiosity more than anything.

He chuckles, a sound somewhere between amused and endeared. As if you were a child asking some silly little question. “You…could say that.”

You bite your lower lip, wanting to ask more, but you don't want him to think you're a naïve little girl. You're twenty-three. Not a child.

He's almost twice my age, you think, of course he sees me as a child.

*

Javi glances at you, noticing the slight pinch between your eyebrows. Did he say something wrong? Did he make you uncomfortable? He has the feeling you want to say more, to ask more. What's holding you back?

“I usually don't have a very regular schedule,” he tells you, hoping to ease your nerves. “It depends a lot on the narcos since we gotta take ‘em by surprise and we never really know where they're gonna be. So we gotta seize any opportunity we get.”

You nod. “Right. It's…Is it stressful? Always guessing where they're gonna be?”

“More than stressful, it's frustrating,” he responds. “Every time we think we're close, they vanish like thin air. Especially Escobar. He's a real tough motherfucker. Careful, ingenious. It's like chasing shadows. Every time we go after him, it's as if he already knows it.”

You pause, turn to him as he stops at a red light. “Every time?” you question.

He nods. “Yeah. We've barely even been close.”

“And you've made sure there are no leaks within the DEA? Or the Colombian military? Because it's a little odd that he can always predict your next move.”

Javier's eyes widen. Of course. How could he not think of that? There's probably someone playing for both sides. A mole filtering information to Escobar. But it would have to be someone close, someone who knows all of their plans.

It's not Carrillo. Carrillo is fully trustworthy, Javier is sure of that. But maybe someone on the Search Bloc, someone new…

He gives you a little smile. “Smart thinkin’,” he tells you. “It would've never occurred to me.”

You shrug as if dismissing your great idea. “I'm a journalist. My work depends on sources and info leaks.”

Smart, gorgeous, witty, humble…

Javier tries to keep himself in check. You're everything a man would want.

But not him. He shouldn't want you. You're so young, there are so many guys out there who would be better for you. He knows that. But, God, what he wouldn't give to get a taste of you…

*

The day flies by—no, the weeks fly by. Between doing your investigations, adjusting to the new work environment, getting used to living on your own, learning Spanish, and trying not to think about Javier, a month passes in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly you have an established routine, suddenly you're settled in. Suddenly you understand more Spanish and your accent decreases slightly. Suddenly, Colombia is becoming a home to you.

But the deeper you fall into Colombia, the deeper you realize it's a war zone. A small-scale kind of war zone. Sicarios—hitmen—make people disappear without anyone noticing for days.

Only reason you know is because those people are usually your sources.

Javier was right about the work being more frustrating than stressful. It's like sand, slipping right through your fingers. No matter how hard you try to hold onto it, it just seeps away.

You make progress. You know you do. But most days, it doesn't feel like it. Javier and his partner, Steve Murphy, they both respect you. They appreciate you and your contribution to the team. Carrillo, the Colombian coronel, does too. But other men…they're a little sensitive about having a woman working with them.

They doubt you. They catcall you. They assume you got the job by sleeping with some higher-ups. And it pisses you off. You wanna punch them all, curse them, call them out for the disgusting pigs they are.

But you don't. You keep your calm. You're better than them and you know it—they know it. That's why they're anrgy with you. You threaten them. Your presence, your abilities, make them feel insecure. And that brings you a very much deserved wave of satisfaction.

Every new piece of information you bring in, the prouder you are of yourself. Until you realize Escobar keeps getting farther and farther away from the DEA. He buys and kills his way through life, opening himself a pretty little path, a red carpet rolled out at his feet.

Some days, you're upbeat. You feel you're moments away from catching the drug lords. But other days, you feel like you came down to Colombia for nothing.

Today is one of those days.

Late afternoon, everyone leaving the office after yet another failed raid. The warehouse had been emptied even before the DEA team was on its way there.

There's a mole, you think as you put away files with months’ worth of information. There has to be a mole. Someone is talking. Someone is ratting us out. But who?

You exhale thickly, a dull ache spreading behind your eyes. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fuck,” you mutter, stressed, annoyed, frustrated.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You grab a file with a big, red stamp on the front that reads deceased—one of your sources just recently killed by sicarios—and aggressively toss it in the trash can. As if that would solve all your issues.

You don't realize he's standing in the office until he sighs. “Tough day, huh?”

You turn around, jumping a little, to find Javier there. He looks almost as pissed as you must look. More, probably. He's already been here for years and Escobar is still running free.

“Understatement,” you mutter, turning away from him. You grab another file, open it. You read the name. Some Francisco something. You grab a large stamp and press it onto the front page so the word deceased is now there in big, bold letters. You toss that into the trash too.

Javier approaches you slowly. You can feel his presence burning behind you, like warm sun on your nape, and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Some of us are going for a drink,” he tells you, voice light and casual. “Just in case you wanna join us.”

You turn to him. “Who's going?”

*

Me and you, Javier thinks. Just us.

“Alright, fine. I'm going,” he says, chuckling softly, smoothly. “There's a bar downtown that I like to frequent when I don't have the best days. And you—no offense—but you look like you could use a drink.”

A small smile appears on your lips. He wants to kiss the corner where your mouth curls.

He can see it in your eyes, you're thinking it through. Weighing the decision. Maybe if he tips the scale a little…

“On me,” he adds, giving you a little smirk. “Y'know. Just a little something to take the edge off.”

Your smile broadens and he knows he's succeeded.

“Alright,” you agree. “You're driving.”

You don't have to say it. It's become the default. Even though the embassy finally delivered your own car, Javi keeps driving you to and from work. Unless he knows he's going to have to stay out later or go through with a raid in the middle of the night, he always insists you let him drive you.

You always politely tell him it's fine, that you can do it yourself, but he doesn't want you to do it yourself. He wants to drive you. Wants to have you sitting in the passenger seat of his car. Wants to hear you hum along to the songs on the radio. That's become the highlight of his day—you have become the highlight of his every single fucking day.

And he hates himself for it. What is he thinking? You're half his age, you can do so much better than him. He's broken, tarnished. He doesn't need to drag you down with him.

But the way your eyes light up when you see him. The smiles you give him. The way his name rolls off your tongue.

Good God, how many times has he spent too long in the shower, one hand braced against the cold tiles as the water falls onto his back while his other hand fists his cock? Head down, hair wet, eyes shut tight as he thinks of you, of the way you say his name. Your little skirts and gorgeous eyes. Your soft, sweet lips…

Over and over, he spills his release onto the shower wall, thick white ropes that trickle down the drain. He does it until it hurts, until the warm water runs cold, until there’s no more of his come to spend. And yet, no matter how much he does it, it's never enough.

Nothing is enough. Not cold showers, not jerking off for hours, not sleeping with his usual hookers and imagining you. Nothing does it.

If it's not you, it'll never be enough.

He takes you to a small club. A private, luxurious little place. Both of you are still in your work clothes. He watches you remove your blazer and are left in a pretty top and a skirt. You let your hair down, untuck your blouse from your skirt, and suddenly you look different. You look free. And Javier's heart skips because he now feels like he has the opportunity to take you home. To lead you to his bed. To spread your legs and let himself finally taste you, feel you, fuck you…

He leads you to a booth in a corner, comfortable and a little more private than other tables, and you sit across from each other.

He watches you, saying nothing as you look around, studying your surroundings. Music is playing softly in the background, people are talking, glasses are tinkling. But he can only focus on you.

You turn to him, a small smile on your face, those beautiful eyes almost shining. “So, as a regular here, I bet you know the menu by heart. What drink would you recommend?”

He chuckles. “I like to take my whiskey. Not a big fan of fancy, elaborate drinks.” He eyes you for a second, purposely letting the tension grow. “But I'd suggest you order a piña colada. Something sweet for you sweet, little thing.”

Javier notes the blush that forms on your cheeks and he feels proud of himself. He didn't take it too far, just a small flirtatious comment. And already you're all flustered.

God, the look on your face if he were to fuck you in front of a mirror, if he'd spread your legs to see your wet pussy, if he'd touch you, kiss you…

Fuck.

He starts getting hard, his cock bulging against the seam of his pants. He slightly adjusts his jeans to relieve the pressure a little.

A waitress comes over and takes your order. Your drinks arrive not long after.

“How are you adjusting to life down here?” he asks you, sipping his whiskey. Bitter, cold. Just how he likes it.

You sip your piña colada, removing the little umbrella on it. “Well enough,” you reply. “Only thing I still struggle with is the language a little.”

He nods in understanding even though he speaks Spanish fluently. He grew up with both languages, he hadn't been forced to learn from zero.

“You'll be able to get it,” he assures. “You're a quick learner. If Steve was able to learn, you're certain to nail it.”

You laugh and he chuckles. He likes that too, he realizes. Your laugh, the way the corners of your eyes crinkle, the shine in your gaze, the way the sound resonates from your mouth.

Suddenly it's a little hotter in the club and for the first time in a really long time, Javier feels nervous around a woman.

*

You like the way he looks at you. Those dark eyes taking you in as if he can't afford to miss a single detail about you.

Smiling a little coyly, you take another sip from your piña colada. It's so sweet.

Something sweet for you sweet, little thing.

Butterflies burst in your stomach. You gaze back up at him. He meets your gaze for a moment before looking away.

He reaches for his tie, undoes it with one hand, starts tugging it off.

Good God…

You press your thighs together. The tiniest of gestures and yet he looks so fucking hot doing it.

You wish he'd tie you up with that tie, pinyou to the bed, take what he wants…

Mind out of the gutter, you tell yourself. Mind out of the gutter.

As the night goes on, you both talk about everything and anything. The conversation doesn't dry up. It just flows. It's odd how much chemistry you two have, it's almost like you'd be perfect together.

But you work together. But he's much older. What would people say? What will happen when—if you were ever to be more than coworkers? More than friends?

No, don't think about that. It won't happen. He's just being kind, taking out the new girl to help her. It doesn't mean anything.

But you doubt yourself. The way he's looking at you, those dark eyes, that intense gaze…You could swear there's more to this than mere kindness.

As the night grows darker, the music gets louder. People start moving onto the dance floor, the lights dim. As the sounds rise in volume, you and Javi sit closer to be able to hear one another.

And suddenly everything shifts. Suddenly you're so close, suddenly the atmosphere is different, suddenly you're staring right into his eyes and he's glancing at your lips.

A soft breath leaves you. How many piña coladas have you had? This isn't you thinking, it's not you leaning closer to him. It's someone else, some other girl—confident, bold, she goes after what she wants. It's not something you would do. But this new version of you…

His lips are grazing yours now. You're so, so close to him. You can smell the cigarettes on his breath, can feel the heat of his skin. He smells of cologne and whiskey and smoke and soft musk.

“I was thinking,” you say, voice low, sultry. What's that sound? Is it the music booming or your racing heart? “You should teach me Spanish.”

“Teach you Spanish?” he asks, eyebrows pinching together. He seems confused, unsure about where you're going with this.

You nod. “Yeah. The toughest part is getting my tongue to roll the right way. And I was thinking you could show me…”

His eyes shine with realization. He understands now, you can tell. “Fuck,” he says breathlessly, voice low and thick. “C’mere.”

And then he's kissing you.

His mouth is warm, soft, and he tastes like danger.

One of his hands finds your waist, the other cups the back of your neck to pull you closer. He devours you, lips coercing yours open before his tongue slides in, tasting of whiskey.

When your tongue meets his, he groans quietly, the sound reverberating through you. The hand on your waist tightens its grip, the other one tangling in the hair at the back of your head and tugging slightly.

You gasp. He smirks. Javi pulls you closer until you're just about forced to get on his lap. You're happy to do so, straddling his hips, one hand on the back of the booth sofa to hold you up, the other one cupping his face.

When you lean your weight down on Javier, he groans, a barely-restrained sound that makes you wetter than you already are.

You can feel he's hard, his cock pressing right between your thighs. You get comfortable on his lap, the bulge in his pants right against your clit.

His hands move down to your ass slowly, testing the waters. When you don't complain, he squeezes the supple flesh, groaning into your mouth.

And it's wrong. And you know it's wrong. But you let him.

*

Fuuuuck.

Javier's mind is a blur, his every thought fogged over with the feel of you on top of him.

His cock aches for you. You're on top of him, the feeling of you on his lap is almost enough for him to jizz his pants.

Jesus fucking Christ, you're perfect. All of you is perfect. You feel so much better than he could've ever imagined.

His large hands squeeze your ass and start guiding your movements, making you grind against him. You let out a little sound, a soft, quiet moan and his hips buck up against yours. In response, you whimper, thighs tightening on either side of him.

He keeps guiding you, making you ride him through the fabric of his pants. He can feel the crotch of his jeans grow wet with his precum, his hips starting to move against yours in search of more.

More, more, more.

He wants so much more. He wants to lift up your skirt, move your panties to the side, slide his cock into you. He wants to feel you, your warm, wet pussy clenching around him…

“Fuck,” he mutters against your lips. It's not enough. It won't be enough until he fucks you. Properly fucks you.

One of his hands moves from your ass to the side of your thigh, and then between your legs. He plays with the edge of your skirt and then his hand wanders under it.

His calloused fingertips find the fabric of your panties and his cock twitches. He gently teases your folds through your underwear, feeling how wet you are already.

He pulls moan after moan from you, smirking against your mouth, swallowing your every sound.

“Javi,” you whimper, pulling away from his lips to take a heaving breath.

“Shh, angel, you don't everyone to know what we're doing now, do you?”

You shake your head softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Mmm, n-no. I just—Oh, God.”

He pushes your panties aside, rough fingers finding your bare cunt. It's so wet, the coarse hair on your skin soaked.

You jerk at the feeling of his fingers on your pussy and he chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound.

He gathers some of your slick with his middle and index fingers and spreads it all over your cunt, leaving you nice and wet so his thumb can glide over your clit in soft, neat circles.

A string of incoherent words leave you and Javi smiles. He wishes he had you in his bed right now so he could spread your folds with his fingers, look at how wet you are.

But this will have to do for now.

He slides his middle finger into you, his thumb adding more pressure on your clit as he draws mindless shapes on the needy bud.

You rock your hips against his hand, moaning, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That's a good girl, angel,” he whispers into your ear, kissing the side of your neck. “You're doing so well. I'm gonna add another finger, yeah?”

He slides his ring finger into you as well and you throw your head back, gasping softly. He curls his fingers up to find that spot that makes you clench around his digits and he smirks.

The more he fingers you, the wetter you get, the tighter you grip him. “C'mon, angel. Come for me, yeah? Let me give you what you deserve.”

You mewl, nuzzling your face into his neck as he fucks you open with his thick fingers.

“Shh, shh. You're so close, angel. So close. Fuck, I can feel how tight you're getting.”

His words seem to spur you on because you start riding his hand faster, more eager, as if you can't get enough. And then there's a moment where your body seems to pause, your every muscle tensing, your eyes shutting tight, and then you fall over the edge.

Javi watches as you climax, the sight more beautiful than anything he's ever seen in his fucking life. He doesn't want this to be the last time he sees you like this. He'll die if he can't get more of you.

“There you go,” he whispers into your ear, helping you ride out the pleasure. “That's a good girl. Are you alright, angel?” He kisses your jaw, your neck, inhaling your soft scent.

You nod weakly. “Mhm,” you hum, shuddering a little. “‘m fine.”

“Good.” He kisses your lips softly, tasting you. God, the things he wants to do to you. He pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean, his body aching to taste you. You taste so sweet, so gentle, so fucking perfect.

Oh, what's he fucking doing? You're half his age. You're too good for him. He shouldn't be—

Your hands start moving to the front of his pants, palming his throbbing cock through the fabric, and suddenly Javier forgets himself. He forgets everything.

If it's not you, he doesn't care right now. He'll figure it out later. There will be time later.

So he just gives in. Just ignores everything and allows himself this moment with you.

It'll only be once. Just once, he promises himself.

Cross my heart.

Dividers from @cafekitsune! Thank you again for these beautiful dividers!!!

Taglist

@maiyart @cheesepannini @picketniffler

I'm so inspired while writing this omggg I just need this man so much 😭😭😭

I hope you enjoy babes!!! <33333

[sunnytyun]

UNDERAGE DRIVING

Chapter One of the Marry Me, Officer? series

warnings. minor!reader, mentions of underage drinking, reader is a cutie pie

taglist. @junzitis @xxkhxndlelitexx @channiesleftarm @taylsluvs @skzskzskzskzskzskzskz

not proofread!!

SERIES MASTERLIST

"Do you know why I pulled you over, miss?" The attractive officer spoke, leaning against the open window of your car. He removed the duty cap from his head, sighing as he looked at you. He looked tired.

"No.." You blink at him.

"Your number plate. It's broken."

"Oh." You nodded, toes wiggling inside your shoe as you kept wanting to just drive off. But that'd be illegal. "I'll get it fixed." You gave him a nervous and polite smile.

He raised a brow. "Where are you coming from this late at night?"

"Um.. just out." You nodded, biting your bottom lip. "with some friends." Oh God, why was this man not letting you go? You just wanted to get out of there before he suspected anything else was wrong.

"Drinking?"

"No! I mean," Your eyes widened. "no, I didn't drink."

"Do you have a license?"

"License.." You nodded, chuckling nervously. "Y- yeah, it's probably here somewhere." You turn away from him, letting your guard down and making a scared face once you were facing away from him before regaining yourself, pretending to search for the non existent license.

"Did you find it?"

"I think I-" You turned to him again, taking in a deep breath. "I think I forgot it at home."

He sighed, almost rolling his eyes. "What's your name?" He asked, taking out his notepad and pen.

"Wh- why are you asking?"

"Just answer, miss."

"Y/N."

He quickly scribbles down your name on his notepad, much to your anxiety. "Alright, Y/N, you said your name was? Did you bring proof of insurance atleast?"

"Must be here somewhere." You nodded, turning to search for the papers. Come on, Y/N. Dad must have kept it here somewhere. The officers watches as you rummage through your car, his patience slowly waning. He taps his foot on the ground, making a soft tapping noise. He crosses his arms and tries to keep a neutral expression but can't help but wonder what else you forgot besides your ID and Registration.

"Find it yet?"

"Um, I think-"

"You left it at home?" He completed your sentence with a fed up expression. You pouted, nodding as you looked down. "I need you step out of the car."

"Please just let me go-"

"Miss. I need you to step out of the car."

You tsked, not wanting to piss off the man as you stepped out of the car at once. "Am I gonna be fined?"

"I should fine you."

"Please don't."

"Why not?"

"B- because this is the first time I've forgot my license at home."

He sighed, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Miss, it's my job."

"Please, please, please, officer." You pleaded, squeezing your eyes shut and joining your hands.

"Hey, stop that."

You opened your eyes, still giving him a puppy dog look. His gaze softened at the sight. God, why was he so weak for cute girls?

"You know what? Fine." He sighed, and your eyes widened. "Don't forget your license again, miss. I'm leaving you with a warning this time."

You grinned. "Thank you so much, officer. You're the best!"

Fate certainly was not on your side. If you thought about it hard enough, you'd realise it never really was. Because why the fuck would the wind blow at this certain moment? Why the fuck would your school ID fly out of the open window of your car? Why the fuck would it land in his feet?

"I think you dropped something."

"That's not mine." You nervously chuckled, but it was too late. He was already bending down to pick it up, his eyes immediately scanning the contents of the ID. His expression hardened as he saw your age and the realisation of your true age dawned on him.

"And how old are you exactly, miss?"

"ei- eighteen." You lied again.

The officer's gaze narrowed as he looked at you with a mixture of skepticism and annoyance. "Really? That's not what your ID tells me. It says you're only seventeen. Care to explain?"

"That's old, really! I'm 18 now." You insisted, trying to give him a pleading look.

The officer leaned against your car again, his eyes scrutinizing you. "Cut the crap. You know it's a felony to lie to a police officer, right? Especially the one who happens to be holding your ID in his hand with your date of birth printed on it." He continued to eye you, his jaw clenching as he spoke. "I'm gonna ask you again. How old are you? And don't lie to me this time. I don't take kindly to liars."

You flinched at his harsh tone, realising there was no way out now. "17."

The officer sighed as you finally confessed your age. "Why didn't you just tell the truth from the start? Lying to a cop won't do you any favours, kid."

You quickly put on more pathetic of an expression. "'m sorry, officer."

The officer shakes his head, his expression softening a bit at your apology. "Don't apologise to me. You ought to apologise to yourself for getting into this mess by yourself."

"Let me off this once, please."

The officer huffed. "Listen, kid-"

"Please please please, let me off, officer!" You quite literally begged.

The officer crossed his arms and looked at you, contemplating the situation. He knew he should give you a ticket as per the protocol, but something about you tugged at his heart strings. "Listen, I shouldn't be letting you off this easy, you know that, right?"

"I'll even get you some ice-cream."

He raised an eyebrow at your offer, unable to hold back a small chuckle. "You're trying to bribe a police officer with ice cream?"

"...is it working—?"

"No."

You pouted.

He frowned, looking away for a moment, collecting himself. Maybe he should give in, you were only a kid after all. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yeah, fine."

"How much?"

He glared at you. "I said, fine! I'll let you off with a warning."

"Oh." Yoh nodded. "Oh!" You smiled gratefully. "Thank you, officer!"

He rolled his eyes, nodding slightly. "You know, you're lucky I'm feeling nice tonight. Most officers wouldn't be this lenient, especially with an underage driver."

"Good thing it's you then." You grinned, but stopped when you saw his serious expression.

The officer couldn't help but raise a brow at your cheeky response. He shook his head, trying to maintain his stern behaviour. "Watch yourself, kid. Just because I'm giving you a break doesn't mean you can sass me. Understand?"

"Sorry, sir." You looked down, genuinely apologizing.

"Apology accepted."

"Can you do me one more favor, officer?" You blinked at him, feigning innocence.

"What now?"

"Please don't tell my parents." You pleaded. Dad could not find about this, or your grace would be ready til morning.

"Alright, alright. I won't tell your parents. But you have to promise me one thing." He leaned in a bit closer to you, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "This stays between us, and I mean it. No telling your friends, no bragging to anyone about how you got out of it without a ticket. Do you understand?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. I'm going to give you a warning this time, but understand that this is a one time thing. If I catch you driving without proper documents again, I won't be as lenient."

"Got it, boss." You nodded with a mock determined look on your face.

He rolled his eyes at your playful response but couldn't help a small smirk from crossing his face. "Smartass. Keep that mouth in check, kiddo."

You giggled, and he let out a small smile.

He checked his watch, noticing the time. "Now, tell me where you're headed. I'm gonna follow you to make sure you get home safe."

"Jackson Street." You answered.

He nodded. "Alright." He walked back to his vehicle and got into the driver's seat.

You sighed. Tonight was something, for sure. But funnily enough, you were sure you had developed a little crush on the handsome and kind officer. You smiled to yourself as you drive, looking in the rear view mirror to see him following. God, he was so cute.

Soon, amidst your daydreaming, you reached your house. He pulled up behind you, parking his patrol car next to yours. He shut off his engine and stepped out, walking towards your car as to get out of the driver's seat.

"That's your house, I assume?"

"No, it's my friend's."

The officer rolled his eyes at your sarcastic comment but chose to ignore it. He crossed his arms across his chest. "Very funny. You know what I meant, smartass." He looked at your house before looking back at the cheeky expression on your face. "You seem to get a kick out of riling me up."

"By the way." You wiggled your brows, a smile on your face as you stared at the handsome officer. "Don't you have a wife and kids at home?"

His expression darkened slightly at your question, not expecting the sudden change in subject. He rubbed the back of his neck, a frown crossing over his face. "What kind of question is that? And no, I don't have a wife and kids, if you must know."

"Good." You grinned.

The officer looked at you curiously, sensing that you're upto something. "And what's with the smug grin, huh? What are you playing at, kiddo?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

The question caught him off guard again, a look of surprise crossing his face. He glanced away for a moment, trying to hide his reaction. "What's with these personal questions all of a sudden? Is that any of your business?"

"Tell!" You almost whined.

He couldn't help but chuckle at your persistence. "Alright, alright, nosy brat. Since you're so curious, no. I do not have a girlfriend. Happy now?"

Your grin reached your ears at this point. "Then can you wait?" You asked, a hopeful gleam in your eyes.

"Wait? Wait for what?"

"For me to grow up so we can marry each other!"

The officer nearly choked on his own saliva as he heard your response. He stared at you in disbelief, clearly not expecting such a bold statement. "What the hell, kid? You can't be serious, right? You're 17, for Christ's sake! and I'm a grown ass man!"

Your face fell at his response. It seemed like he wasn't even a bit attracted by the idea, more repelled. "I'll grow up enough someday."

The officer rubbed his temple, trying to wrap his head around your logic. "And what, you think I'm going to sit around waiting for you to age like some kind of weirdo? And for what? So you can marry me at some point in distant future? That's not how it works, kid. You don't even know me!"

"Then allow me to."

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated by your stubbornness. Meanwhile, you could only ogle how his biceps bulged as he did that.

"You are something else, you know that? I'm a grown man, you're a minor. It's not appropriate for us to know each other like that. You understand that, don't you?"

"Do you have a pen?"

He looked at you quizzically, confused by your sudden change in topic. "A pen? Yeah, of course, I have a pen. Why?"

"Gimme."

He reached into his pocket, sighing as he handed it to you. "Here, take it. What do you need it for anyway?"

You took his hand, scribbling something on the palm of his hand. "Here's my number. I'll try not to change it. Call me after four years!"

The officer watched as you scribbled your number on his hand, dumbfounded by your audacity. He can't believe you're actually serious about this. "Jesus Christ, you really are dead set on this marriage idea, aren't you? And what makes you think I'll even be single by then?"

You blinked up at him. "I'd be sad if you're not single then."

He chuckled dryly. "You'd be sad, huh? What if I do find myself in a relationship by then? What would you do then, hm?"

You pouted. "I'll have to let you go."

He shook his head and sighed, torn between amusement and annoyance at your determination. "I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned by your dedication. Just how much are you willing to wait for a guy you don't even know?"

"How old are you?" You changed the topic again, he noticed.

He crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm 26, why?"

"9 years is nothing."

"You say that now. This age difference is a lot. A whole generational gap." He sighed. "People move on, they grow up, they find other partners. You can't seriously tell me you're willing to put your dating life on hold for that long just for the slim possibility of us being together someday?"

You tilted your head. "I have no dating life."

The officer snorted and shook his head, his disbelief growing. "That's not the point, and you know it."

"What's your name?" You finally asked. You should know the name of your future hubby atleast.

The officer paused, hesitating for a moment before finally sighing in resignation. "Chan. Bang Chan. Happy now?"

"Chan." You grinned, saying his name to know how it tasted on your tongue. "Our names would sound so good together."

"Fine, let's entertain this crazy scenario for a minute. Let's say, four years from now, I'm still single and somehow remember this insanity. What then? You seriously think I'm gonna go, 'Oh, yeah! Remember that random underage brat I met on the street four years ago? Yeah! Guess I'll marry her!'"

You pouted as he remained uninterested.

He couldn't help but chuckle at your pouty face, finding your stubborn endearing despite himself. "You should really stop pouting like that. It makes it damn hard to say no to your kicked puppy face."

"Then I should pout more often!"

"You brat-"

"Officer! I'm gonna marry you one day!" You grinned cheekily, saluting him before running off to the door of your house. "Call me after four years!"

He could only watch in disbelief as you sprinted away, still reeling from your boldness. He glanced down at his hand, where your number is written in a messy handwriting. He couldn't believe he was actually entertaining any of this. But then again, you were still just a bratty kid.

"Damn, kid. What am I getting myself into?"