The first thing everyone notices about you is the color pink.
Pink scrubs. Pink pens. A pink clipboard covered in tiny pastel stickers—hearts, flowers, and a little cartoon bandage with a smiley face on it.
The second thing everyone notices is that you aren’t afraid of Ghost.
Which, according to the entire base, makes you either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.
You hear the warnings your first week.
Soap leans against the med bay counter one morning while you organize gauze rolls, watching you with mild disbelief. “Ye know who that is, right?”
You glance up from the gauze rolls. “Who?”
“The big skull mask bloke who walks around like death himself.”
Gaz laughs from the doorway. “Lieutenant Ghost. Terrifies recruits for fun..? Breaks doors instead of knocking. That one?”
You blink once.
“Oh.”
Soap waits for you to react properly.
You simply shrug. “He seems nice.”
Soap nearly chokes.
The truth is, you’ve already met him.
It was two days ago. He walked past the med bay after training, boots heavy against the tile, gear slung over one shoulder. He’s massive—broad shoulders, tall enough that the overhead lights catch on the edges of the skull mask he never takes off.
You looked up from your desk.
And you smiled.
“Good afternoon..” a pause to look at the name Velcroed to his chest “Lieutenant Riley.”
He stopped walking.
People don’t greet him like that. You could tell by the way the hallway went quiet.
He stared at you for a moment through the black eye sockets of the mask, eyes dark and unreadable.
“…Afternoon.”
His voice was low. Almost.. hesitant?
You nodded politely and went back to writing on your clipboard.
Like it was completely normal.
After that, you greet him every time you see him.
“Hi, Lieutenant.”
“Morning, Lieutenant!”
“Hope you’re having a nice day Lieutenant.”
He never smiles—at least not that you can see—but he always gives a small grunt of acknowledgement. That’s enough for you.
What you do notice is that he never shows up to the med bay.
Which is a problem, because everyone is required to attend a monthly checkup.
Soap comes in complaining the whole time. Gaz jokes through the entire exam. Even Captain Price shows up on schedule.
Ghost?
Doesn’t come at all.
Three days after his appointment passes, you spot him turning the corner of a hallway and nearly run into his chest.
You stop just in time.
He looks down at you slowly.
Up close he’s even bigger.
You smile.
“Hi, Lieutenant Riley.”
“…What.”
You check your pink clipboard.
“You missed your checkup.”
He stares at you through the mask.
“…No I didn’t.”
You turn the clipboard around so he can see the neat list written in pink ink.
SIMON RILEY — MISSED APPOINTMENT
He exhales slowly through his nose.
“Not goin’.”
You tilt your head a little. “Why?”
“Don’t need it.”
The tone clearly says the conversation is over.
So you write something on your clipboard.
“Okay.”
He seems surprised by that. Like he expected an argument.
He steps past you.
Then you add sweetly, “I’ll just have to keep finding you until you do it.”
He stops walking.
Slowly turns his head.
You’re still smiling.
“…You serious?”
“Mhm.”
You tap the clipboard. “You’re overdue.”
He studies you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking.
You aren’t.
So over the next few days, you keep finding him.
In the hallway. Near the training room. Once outside the armory.
Every time, you smile.
Every time, you remind him.
“Your checkup is still overdue, Lieutenant.”
By the fourth time, he finally walks into the med bay himself.
You look up from your desk and brighten immediately.
“Oh! Hi, Lieutenant Riley.”
He sits in the chair like a man being sentenced.
“Do it quick.”
You nod happily. “Of course.”
You move through the exam like you would with anyone else. Pulse first. Your fingers rest lightly against his wrist while you count.
His skin is warm.
“Heart rate’s good,” you murmur, jotting the numbers down on your pink clipboard.
You reach for your stethoscope next. “Deep breath for me.”
He obeys, shoulders rising slowly.
The med bay is quiet except for your pen scratching across paper.
You don’t rush. You don’t treat him differently.
He’s just another patient.
“Alright,” you say gently after a moment. “Next I need to check your throat.”
He goes still.
You pause.
“Oh—right. Mask.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a small moment of silence before you ask softly, “Would it be alright if you lifted it just enough for me to see?”
You wait.
Most people would probably push him. Demand it. Try to force the issue.
You simply stand there patiently.
Eventually his hand lifts to the mask, pulling it up just enough for his mouth to be visible.
You don’t react. Don’t stare.
You lean a little closer with the small penlight. “Open please.”
He does.
You check his throat quickly, professional and calm.
“All good.” you say a moment later.
He lowers the mask again.
The rest of the checkup is quick—blood pressure, reflex test, a few more notes on your clipboard.
When you’re finished, you smile.
“All done.”
He stands from the chair.
There’s a brief pause before he gestures toward your scrubs.
“…Pink’s not regulation.”
You glance down at yourself.
“I know.”
“Why wear it then?”
You shrug. “Because I like it.”
He stares at you for a quiet second longer, eyes unreadable behind the skull mask.
Then he turns toward the door.
Halfway out, he stops.
“…Thanks.”
The word comes out rough. Quiet.
But genuine.
You watch him leave before looking down at your clipboard and writing the final note beneath his name in pink ink.
summary: Jack doesn't feel "jealous" after watching you complain about another first date gone wrong.
pairings: younger resident!reader x jack abbot
contains: jealous, possessive and borderline toxic jack (if you squint?), fluff, medical inaccuracies, lots of flirting + romantic/sexual tension, dennis catching strays (im sorry king i had to sacrifice you as a plot device)
word count: 2.5k
notes: JEALOUS AND POSSESSIVE JACK ABBOT RAHHHHHHH!!!!! not the best thing ive ever written but idgaf . also a little Yes, Chef easter egg towards the end :3
Jack Abbot is many things. a military veteran turned swat physician and an adrenaline junkie to name a few things. another thing about Jack Abbot is that he is not a possessive, jealous man. at least that's what he tries to convince himself when he sees you come into work early with a full face of makeup, a short skirt and a pretty blouse,
“Woah! Where’d you come from?” Lena exclaims. you walk over and throw your arms over the desk, leaning down till your forehead hits the surface,
“I just came back from the worst fucking date of my life, like I genuinely think I’m done with boys and dating.” you lift yourself back up to face Lena. you don’t notice Jack standing nearby looking up at the board, pretending to look for a patient,
“And get this, Lena, not only is he late, but all he did was talk about himself. Like I actually don’t think I said anything about myself until the bill came.”
“Did he at least pay?” Lena asks. you groan and put your head back onto the desk. “And you didn’t walk out?” you shake your head, still face down on the surface,
“No! Please remind me to never waste my time on a stupid date before my shift.”
Jack raises his eyebrows in curiosity as he eavesdrops in on the conversation. Lena turns her head towards Jack, finally noticing that he’s been lingering around for longer than he should,
“Doctor Abbot, did you need something?”
“Nope. All good.” Jack walks away once he’s been caught.
Jack doesn’ t get jealous, especially not over his younger resident’s dating life. he thinks you could do much better though, rather than wasting your time over stupid, immature boys. if it were him, he would be sure to pick you up a few minutes early with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, wine and dine you at some expensive spot, then if everything goes right, he’d kiss you sweetly as he dropped you home. it’s not something he thinks about often though, except maybe on his drive home after seeing you for over 12 hours and sometimes right before he falls asleep. there was also that time he thought about it when he saw a bouquet of pink flowers at the grocery store; he knew you’d love them. other than that though, he’s never really thought about it,
“You good?” Doctor Ellis snaps Jack out of his daydream.
“Yeah, go ahead and page the OR again and let’s move her up as soon as a bed opens.” Jack says. the night shift has barely started and Ellis can tell he’s off his game tonight. she doesn’t try to pry and lets Jack excuse himself from the conversation. he takes a deep breath as he pulls the rubber gloves off, throwing them out. Jack enters the break room to grab another coffee when he suddenly hears,
“Seriously? I love that movie!” you say excitedly nearby in north one.
“Yeah? Here lemme show you.” a male voice replies. Jack puts his mug down and decides to stroll past to check on you. he was overdue for a quick check up on all his residents anyways. he walks over to north one to see you leaning over to look at the phone of your patient. you’re practically cheek to cheek with him, smiling in awe of whatever he’s showing you. Jack lets out a fake cough, breaking up the moment.
“Doctor Abbot, sorry. This is Joshua Harris, he’s got a left fibula fracture, currently waiting on x-rays to come back,” Jack nods, waiting for a further explanation on what he walked in on. “Joshua works in the film industry and was just showing me a picture of him and Harrison Ford!” your patient turns his phone to show Jack.
“Wow…” Jack tries to come off as interested but anyone can tell he really couldn’t care less, “You mind if I steal her for a minute?” you stand up to follow your attending out but Joshua is quick to intervene,
“Maybe, we could see that new Harrison Ford movie sometime? I’ll have a lot of time now that I’ve got this thing on.” he says gesturing to the boot you put on his leg. you exchange a glance with Jack and awkwardly laugh, “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize you guys were…” Josh waits for one of you to complete his sentence. neither you or Jack say anything. you stare at each other waiting for the other to define what this is. he could easily shut down the accusation by saying that he was your attending, but Jack lets the idea of you two dating linger in the air,
“Sorry, I legally can’t accept since you’re my patient. Plus I’m just not really looking for anything anyways.” your words come out in an awkward tone, desperate for the conversation to end.
you consider Jack as your coworker, your boss practically, but you always fantasized that there could be something more between the two of you. there was no denying that he is incredibly handsome and that you’ve always had a little crush on him, but who didn’t? Jack puts his hand on the small of your back as he guides you out of the room and back into the break room,
“Everything okay? Is this about my GSW victim in South 18?” Jack picks up his previously discarded coffee mug and takes a casual sip,
“She’s fine, she just went up to surgery. You just didn’t need that conversation.” Jack says nonchalantly as if he’s not boiling with jealousy. your eyebrows raise,
“I’m perfectly capable of handling my patients if that’s what you’re implying.” Jack takes a small step forward. it’s small but enough to make your breath shallow, enough to make you avoid eye contact with him.
“I know you’re capable. More than anything, anyone here.” Jack says lowly, “I just think if you’re gonna go out with someone that it should be with someone who isn’t gonna waste your time.” your eyes finally look up to his, realizing that he overheard your conversation with Lena.
“Do private conversations not exist in this hospital?” you say as your heartbeat quickens. You swear Jack can hear it as it thumps hard against your chest.
“Not when they involve my favourite resident.” Jack is quick to answer.
“Oh, so I’m your favourite?” the sudden praise brings back a bit of confidence in you. “So, if I’m your favourite then you’d know what’s best for me right?” Jack tilts his head up slightly, smirk slowly growing on his face. Doctor Shen casually walks into the break room, stopping in his tracks when he sees you both,
“Am I interrupting something?”
“Nope. Was just grabbing a coffee.” you say taking Jack’s coffee mug from his hands. you take a small sip of his coffee, keeping eye contact with him.
“Alright…” Shen says throwing his Dunkin’ cup in the garbage. he leaves quickly hearing his name come from a nearby room. you put the mug back on the counter,
“Well, if you’ll excuse me Doctor Abbot, I have a patient with a broken leg waiting on me to push some painkillers.” you say walking back out towards north one.
Jack walks around the ER with pride after his encounter with you. damn right he knows what’s best for you. it’s selfish of him to be greedy with your attention, but he didn’t care. he felt like you were his, even if it wasn’t explicitly said yet. you’re charting your latest patient’s info when Doctor Ellis rolls her chair next to you,
“Hey, so what’s up with you and Abbot?” your eyes keep focused on the screen ahead,
“What do you mean?”
“I mean like, why is he being so….” Parker can’t find the words to describe whatever the hell has been going on tonight. you look over at her as she tilts her head quickly, pointing towards Jack’s direction. you follow Parker’s tiling head to see Jack already staring right at you. he smiles at you before continuing his conversation with one of the nurses.heat floods your cheeks suddenly as you look back down at your screen quickly.
“Shen thinks you guys are fucking.”
“What!” you say louder than expected, grabbing the attention of Jack and surrounding patients. you dip your head back down making yourself small, “We are not… fucking.” you whisper.
“Might as well be with the way he’s been looking at you. Seriously, he looks like he wants to eat you alive.” she stands up, grabbing a tablet and walks away to her next patient.
he looks like he wants to eat you alive replays in your head a few times. you gnaw on your lip at the thought, oblivious to the sight of Jack approaching behind you. he bends down and looks over your shoulder reading your charts,
“31-year old male complaining of lower right abdominal pain, diagnosis appendicitis, patient admitted to surgery,” Jack mumbles close to your ear.
“Very good.” Jack stands back up straight as you spin your chair around to face him,
“You’ve been very distracting tonight.” you say pointing at him.
“Just doing my job.” your eyes widen in disbelief at his response. despite being annoyed at him, he thinks he might die if he looks at your big, doe eyes for any longer.
“If doing your job includes being on my ass tonight, Abbot, I would say you’re doing great at it.” you say spinning back around to face the screen. Jack pulls up a chair sitting close to you.
“Didn’t I tell you that you were my favourite earlier?” he says.
“If being your favourite means you’re looking over my shoulder for every patient and chart, I don’t wanna be.” you say with your focus still locked on your charts.
“Way too late for that.” Jack mumbles. you stop typing to meet his satisfied smile.
“Incoming trauma, cardiac arrest, 5 minutes out!” Lena calls from the desk. Jack stands up and heads towards the ambulance bay.
𝜗ৎ
you’re dragging your feet when the morning shift starts to roll in. the regret of getting up early for that date yesterday is really taking a toll on your body and you’re ready to head home,
“For someone who just worked 12 hours, you look great!” Doctor Whittaker starts as you walk together to your patient.
“Really? Thanks, I had an awful date right before my shift. Never doing that again.” Dennis lets out a small empathetic laugh.
“Dating or getting up early before your shift?” he asks.
“Both.” Dennis laughs a bit harder at your response.
“If you ever wanna talk about it, we could get coffee? Bond over bad first dates or something.”
from a distance, Jack watches your face change from casual into a surprised expression at Whittaker. he turns to Santos who’s also observing,
“What’s going on over there?”
“Huckleberry’s asking her out. I think he’s had a little crush on her for a while since Amy dumped his ass.” Santos replies amused at the sight. you’ve gotta be kidding me Jack thinks.
“Do you think she’s gonna say yes?” he asks. Santos shrugs,
“What’s it to you anyways, Abbot?” he rolls his eyes at the comment. to Trinity, it’s just Jack trying to pry and gossip, when in reality, he’s spent all night showing you that you deserve better and Jack was better. sure, maybe Dennis was closer in age to you, but Jack knows he can’t take care of you the way he can. before he can think, his legs start walking towards you and Dennis. he’s so blinded by jealously that he doesn’t even realize his body is in autopilot,
“Dennis, I think you’re great, but I don't think-” Dennis jumps as a pair of hands grab his shoulders,
“Whittaker! I've got a special patient to introduce you to. You're with me.” Jack's grip tightens on Dennis and pulls him away from you. you stare and watch as Jack takes him away towards the ambulance bay. your eyes lock with Trinity’s from afar, staring at each other in confusion. Trinity shrugs and carries on with her rounds.
slowly, you’re starting to puzzle the pieces together. all the sudden flirting, fleeting touches, always showing up right in the middle of an awkward disaster, Jack was jealous. he wanted your attention all to himself and you liked it. you enjoyed watching him have his way and not letting anyone stop him. doubt crosses your mind for a split second, there's also a possibility you could be wrong about all of this. surely he’s just been looking out for you tonight and all the alleged flirting was you mistaking it for something more than just kindness.
whatever, you’d have to deal with it tomorrow night.
Jack is finally free from the last handoff of the night. his leg is sore, head pounding, and all he wants is to see you one last time before he heads out for the day. he circles the ER one last time and doesn’t see you anywhere. Jack swears he just saw you at the workstation desk a second ago, did you leave without saying bye?
“She left a few minutes ago.” Santos says as she passes by with an amused expression. Jack glares at her, too exhausted to ask why she knew who he was looking for. Jack knows that he’ll see you tomorrow night but he was hoping to see you before you left so he could savor the way you looked at him for a bit longer.
the elevator dings to the top floor of the parking lot. the sun is just about fully risen and the soft sunrays peek through the clouds. as Jack walks down the lot, he sees you putting your bags in the trunk of your car, letting out a deep sigh as you shut it,
“Was looking for you.” you spin around hearing his familiar voice.
“You were?” Jack nods in response. he doesn’t want to leave. he’s exactly where he wants to be, even after being in the ER for twelve hours. you give Jack a tired smile as you both stand silently, lingering in each other's presence,
“I’m gonna head home in a minute, but here's what I think should happen,” Jack starts. there’s a bit of raspiness to his voice that catches your attention.
“On Friday, I’m gonna pick you up a little before seven and I’m taking you to North and Vine.” you tilt your head, brows furrowing in confusion,
“I’m working Friday.”
“You’re not anymore, and neither am I. I’ll take care of it.” Jack is quick to respond, like he was expecting your reaction. a smile slowly forms on your face,
“Was a little jealousy all it took for you to ask me out?” you say with aching cheeks.
“I don’t get jealous.” Jack replies with an unamused expression. your smile still big, finally proving your jealousy theory,
“Right… I’ll see you Friday night, Jack.” you lean up to press your lips to his cheek lightly, finally breaking his straight face.
Pairing: Benjamin Pointdexter x Reader
Summary: Your life has always been one inconvenience away from falling apart, but those problems seem to dissolve away as Benjamin Pointdexter enters your life. You call him your angel, he never bothers to correct you.
♡ Warnings: mentions of harassment at workplace, abuse of power, implied stalking, morally grey dex, unhealthy relationships, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess), obsessive behavior, smut, piv sex, oral (f!receiving), belly bulge, dryhumping
☽ Went insane writing this lol, proofread but there r still some mistakes here and there prolly. Enjoy <3 and feedback is much appreciated. 8.8K WORDS
You knew your day was going to be absolute shit the moment your landlord called before seven in the morning.
The sun was barely peeking through the cracks of your lace curtains when you woke up hissing, rolling over in bed as if ignoring the persistent ringing would magically make it disappear.
You let the ringing prolong a bit more, dragging out your internal torture because you knew a call before half the working population even woke up meant absolutely no good. Nobody called before seven in the morning with good intentions and news. Not your mother. Not your boss. And certainly not Mr Rodriguez, who was more pressed about your overdue rent than he was on his late wife’s passing.
You finally caved in, turning over to attend the call
“Morning,” he said.
Ugh, you hate him- his oily voice, his timing, everything about him.
You tune out of the conversation before it even starts and only allow yourself to catch snippets of it. Something about “final notice” and “end of the month” and “I’ve been more than patient”- the usual
Click.
The lines goes dead.
Well, fuck you too.
Your head drops back into the pillow.
What a great start to your morning.
.
Everything just seems to get worse from there.
You couldn’t drift back off to sleep all thanks to Mr Rodriguez, so you shake yourself awake and stagger out of bed with all the grace of a zombie.
You head straight to the kitchen to brew up a cup of coffee, stopping midway when you realize your coffee machine had broken and given up on life. You had forgotten to get it fixed - or buy a new one.
I fucking hate my life, you decide.
You were just one of those poor souls still indebted to college loans and struggling to make ends meet with a shitty job and even shittier colleagues. Did i mention the boss was a complete stuck up, pretentious, arrogant, absolute manchild?
Yeah well, now you know.
To kill time you decide to fetch your clothes from the building laundry room two floors down, as your waffles cook in one of the only smart-appliances your broke ass had decided to invest in.
You step out of your apartment with a basket to hold your clothes in, trudging down the building stairs because of course the elevator was out of order the third time this week.
The laundry room was tucked away in the basement. A depressing little concrete box filled with rattling machines that groaned and moaned all the time, smelling of lingering detergent and a curious mildew smell that always seemed to haunt that area. You pulled your clothes out of the whirring machine hastily, not wanting to spend more time than was necessary here
You stumble back to the lobby and come face to face with the spawn of the Devil himself, Mr Fucking Rodriguez.
.
The argument had been going for seven minutes. Dex knew because he’d checked his watch twice.
Mr Rodriguez was red in the face. You were red in the face.
“And where exactly do you expect me to get it from?, I told you, give me one more week!” You snapped. “You think I’m hiding stacks of cash underneath my mattress?”
“I expect you to pay your rent, it’s already been long overdue!”.
“I expect you to shut the fuck up before eight in the morning, but I guess neither of us are getting what we want.” Rodriguez spluttered at that.
“You have until Friday,” Rodriguez barked. You laughed a sharp, throaty sound.
“Great. I’ll go print some money.”
Dex had noticed you’d looked exhausted. Your hair was a mess, one sleeve hung slightly off your shoulder, dark circles etched permanent bruises underneath your eyes. Yet you still fought.
That, more than anything, was what kept him from interrupting the argument and demanding the payment Rodriguez owed Fisk.
That, despite looking like life had spent the last decade kicking you down the stairs, you still hadn’t learnt when to accept defeat and shut your mouth.
In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t noticed the stranger leaning off the rickety doorway, silently observing, and had disappeared up the stairwell with your laundry basket tucked beneath one arm. Dex much preferred it that way.
.
Neither man spoke until your footsteps faded.
”Crazy girl,” Rodriguez scoffed.
“Hm”
He turned around to find Dex leaning off the door, and paled.
“How long have you been standing here?. Sorry for ailing you, she was holding me up”
”Who is she?,” Dex didn’t want to sound too curious
”Her?- don’t worry about her. Good for nothing brat. Late on rent. Always having some excuse up her sleeve, Late on everything. Thinks she can talk to me however she wants” Dex watched as Rodriguez ‘s face flushed a light red at the mere mention of you.
Dex didn’t respond- let the silence simmer a little. The landlord immediately regretted opening his mouth.
”What?” Rodriguez muttered.
Dex stepped a little closer. Enough to make the older man aware of the distance.
“Let’s discuss the money you owe Fisk.”
Rodriguez visibly trembled, “There’ve been complications.”
“There always are, it’s been months.”
“It’s not that simple, you need to understand!” Dex could hear the creeping hysteria slither its way in Rodriguez’s voice.
“You have until Friday” Dex really couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit about Rodriguez. The orders he’d received were simple; give him til Friday or blow him up, hes too complicated.
The landlord blinked. Friday?… The exact same deadline he’d given the girl. Coincidence? Probably.
“You understand me?” Dex asked.
Rodriguez nodded immediately.
“Good.”
Dex started toward the exit and the relief weighed heavy on Rodriguez’s face.
He stopped in his tracks, turning around.
“The girl isn’t your problem”
Cold dread filled the landlord once again, “What?”
“The tenant”. Rodriguez blinked.
”I-“
“You seem very focused on her, Rodriguez”
The older man could feel tendrils of cold sweat flowing down his back. Dealing with Dex was like dealing with a land mine, “She owes me rent”.
“And you owe Fisk,” Dex tilted his head slightly, “I’d recommend prioritizing”
Understanding flooded Rodriguez’s face. Dex wasn’t telling him to outright forgive your debt, he was reminding him which debt could get him thrown into a river tied up in a sack.
.
Your week at home had gone remarkably…uneventful. Shockingly so. Friday had come by, and still no Mr Rodriguez in sight. You had collected enough money to pay the rent, too, but still no Mr Rodriguez pounding at the door the entire week. Had he fallen down the stairs? Developed a conscience? Had God, in a rare moment of mercy, remembered you existed? Wow, you wanted to laugh. Or cry.
Instead, you sat in your kitchen and waited for the other shoe to drop. Because it always fucking did.
Your boss was a complete dick. He wanted the girls working at the shop to have a smile covering their face at all times, until you resembled a half assed Joan Cornella’s painting.
However, he had lately reached new heights of unbearable.
He’d pulled you aside during slow hours when you were in the middle of serving an order for a man covered in all black; face obscured by a baseball hat.
You wiggled out of his grasp.
”What do you want?” You snapped. Gods’ you hated the rotting smell coming from his mouth.
“You’d sell more if you showed a little more… sensuality,” he’d remarked.
“Excuse me?” The audacity of this man.
“Unbutton the top a little. It’ll bring in customers”. He grinned, his blackened teeth on display, two of them knocked out. Eyes curving down to the sliver of cleavage your button up had accidentally exposed.
What the fuck?
A slow burning hatred settled into the pits of your stomach. You hated him so much it made you sick. But you could never bring yourself to say anything, you knew your boss was involved with...wrong company. And you didn’t want to end up on some sort of hit list in your twenties.
How were you to tell him the reason for the lack of customers was maybe, just maybe the failing AC compartments, the graffitied entrance, and the ripped leather seats?
Right. Fuck him, man.
You didn’t notice how long you stood there afterwards. You were pulled back in a cycle of horror, the one you’d desperately tried to escape after a week of not seeing your landlord threaten you actively for not paying rent you worked so hard for.
And in the corner booth across the shop, the man clad in a dark jacket clasped his hands around the coffee he barely touched, watching nothing in particular, but listening to everything anyway.
A few moments later you compose yourself and sigh, turning back to the customer you were serving, only to find the table empty, coffee untouched and receipt folded under the sugar packet.
You sigh once again. Now it’s just you and the silence.
.
Your boss is in a worse mood the next day. Which is saying something because hes always fucking angry and ready to explode, but this time he never explicitly blows his anger on you. Shockingly.
This continues for the next week.
He isn’t actively pulling you aside, making snide comments about your appearance or blaming you for slow hours.
That’s a first.
He stays in that dingy office most of the time now, not that you’re complaining. But its certainly odd.
Whatever, you really shouldn’t question these strange blessings.
You’ve just been really lucky these last weeks. Maybe you have an angel watching over you. You scoff, why’d it suddenly start showing up now?
.
You think the first time you noticed him, you were tuning out of what Anne was complaining about- something about her ex while the two of you sat crammed at some cheap diner a few blocks from work.
You were nodding along, pretending to listen, when your eyes drifted towards the window.
A man sat alone outside on one of the patio tables.
Dark jacket, baseball hat, coffee in front of him- full incognito. Something about him tugged at your memory.
You forgot about him thirty seconds later when Anne launched into another rant.
The second time you saw him was when you’d treated yourself to a nice sandwich after work and decided to sit outside once instead of returning straight to your apartment to stare at your peeling walls.
The weather was beautiful, light wind nipping at your exposed shoulders.
Your gaze wandered halfway through lunch and landed on that same guy. There he was again.
A different jacket but the same hat, same posture. Sitting on a bench a short distance away, talking quietly on the phone. You stared for a moment and he looked up.
You immediately looked away, embarrassed. Yuck, now you look like a pervert.
The third time you think you saw him, you were leaving a pharmacy.
You shoved the plastic bag underneath your arm and stepped back onto the sidewalk- and immediately almost toppled over when someone brushed past you.
You glanced up. Dark jacket. A glimpse of his side profile.
Gone before you could properly connect the dots. Now why the fuck do i keep seeing this guy everywhere?
.
The fourth time, however, was a little harder to ignore.
You had stepped out of your building for a smoke during the weekend, when you spotted Mr Rodriguez standing near the curb. This was your first time seeing him after weeks of his absence. It had worried you during the initial week, but indulging in conspiracies of what had happened to him had become a fading pastime.
You turned on your heel, ready to bolt your ass out of there in case he noticed you and picked up a fight over absolutely nothing.
Unfortunately, that senile old man noticed you first.
Before he could start his usual bullshit, another man stepped into view. Black windbreaker styled jacket, baseball hat, familiar face…
Mr Rodriguez looked strangely tense when the man muttered something. You watched as Mr Rodriguez nodded, and the man turned away.
Coincidences happen. Hell’s Kitchen was full of people. Maybe he was another tenant? Mr Rodriguez owned several buildings throughout Hell’s Kitchen. Maybe he worked for the city. Maybe he was Rodriguez’s accountant. His lawyer. His tax guy. Whatever.
Who cared. Certainly not you.
You had another week to survive and exactly 120$ in your savings account. And adding paranoia to the ever growing list it wouldn’t help you. Other people’s business certainly wasn’t your problem.
.
You’re exhausted.
It’s nearing midnight and you leave your shift, begrudgingly entering the convenience store to grab a snack before you head back to your apartment.
Every muscle in your body is aching with overstrain and all you want to do is huddle up in your blankets, no matter how cheap they are. You walk down the food aisle, intending to pick out a sandwich when you inconveniently bump into something. Or more accurately, someone.
And there he is.
The not so unfamiliar stranger. What the actual fuck? That’s it, you’ve reached your breaking point.
“Are you following me?” You blurt out. His eyebrows lift in surprise.
“Thats a serious accusation,” He seems calm?
You're immediately embarrassed. What were you thinking? You probably sound insane.
“i just-” you inhale, “I keep seeing you.”
He stares at you for a while. Gaze fixated right on yours.
“Funny,” he says, “I was about to say the same thing”
You blink at him. Is this actually happening?
“Benjamin,” he says eventually, extending a hand, after letting the silence prolong for a while.
“Most people call me Dex.”
You hesitate a little before shaking his hand, offering your name, and you see the corner of his mouth twitch in a subtle smile.
You smile at him in return and awkwardly step around to head to the counter and he follows.
You buy your sad little sandwich and he his energy drinks- enough to kill a small horse - and step out.
You’re a little intimidated to be honest, suddenly conversing with a stranger you’ve been keeping an eye out for weeks.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. You shuffle around on your feet a little before perking up. “So what do you do? For work, I mean”. A boring question, really, but you can’t be bothered to keep up a conversation when you’re so tired.
Dex stares at you for a moment once again, and you awkwardly blink.
Such a normal question. Dex has spent weeks learning everything he could about you, yet you don’t know anything about him. The imbalance is delicious.
“I work for the FBI,” he says simply, not dwelling further.
Your jaw drops open, “Holy shit, that’s a cool ass job.”
“It really isn’t, gets boring after a while” He smiles.
“Respectfully, I think you’re lying.” A quite huff escapes him.
“Wish i had a cool job like yours”, Dex notices you look a little miserable- He has to play along. He hopes you don’t remember him from the that time he visited your shop on a whim.
“What do you do?” He asks.
“i work at a coffee shop”
“Do you like it?”
“No.” You bark out a laugh.
“Why not?”
“Well, there’s a lot of things that contribute to me absolutely despising my job. My boss, for instance,” You shake your head, “Like genuinely. Cartoon villain levels of asshole, he’s evil”
“What did he do?”
You scoff.
“What didn’t he do?”, You breathe out, “Lately, however, I’ve noticed he’s being a little … weird. Like he isn’t tugging at me and hovering over me all the time. It’s creeping me out”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” He tilts his head.
“No, because now I’m waiting for the catch.”
“You think there’s a catch?”
“I think my inconvenient life has conditioned me to expect one.”
“Maybe somebody noticed.” He says. You frown, “Noticed what?”
“That he was treating you badly,” His gaze lingers on yours, as if trying to convey you something.
What a cryptic guy, you think. Could he not elaborate further?
“I guess, but who would really care for a person like me?” You knew you were self pitying at the moment, and it probably did little to elevate your image in his eyes, but so deep into the night with little to no company these past few months made you want to rattle on about every single thing about your life to the first person willing to listen.
“There’ll always be someone around who cares, trust me”
“You sound like a tired suicide prevention hotline worker” You giggle a little at your own joke, and raise an eyebrow when he looks at you with a bit of skepticism. “What?” you ask.
He averts his eyes, “Nothing.”
You notice the air around his demeanor has shifted a little and use it as your cue to leave. Glancing down at your mobile, you check the time and sigh.
“Well, I think it’s my time to go. It was really nice meeting you, Dex”
“Likewise,” he smiles.
As you turn to leave he clears his throat, you glance over your shoulder to see him averting his eyes as he says, “Could we exchange numbers?” He seems nervous, probably the most emotion you’ve seen him show the entire conversation.
Oh.
Well… he’s really handsome, not to mention you’ve been bumping into each other these past months so it must be fate that led you two to intertwine right? He seems polite too, “You don’t have to,” he adds.
”Sure”, and you watch as something akin to relief spreads across his face, he hands you his phone and gazes at your side profile as you type your number on the screen.
“Text me when you get home,” he says.
You blink, “Why?”
“Its late.”
You snort at that, “Are all FBI agents this paranoid over someone they just met?”
”We’ve been bumping into each other for quite a while, I wouldn’t say we’re exactly strangers.” His answer comes a bit too quickly, you laugh it off.
“Goodnight, Dex.”
“Goodnight.”
You walk away without looking back.
.
Dex was surprisingly a very fun texter. Over the course of a few weeks, texting him became part of your daily routine.
║8:37PM You: Just made it home. Boss is still alive, ugh.
║9:10PM Dex: My condolences.
He was fun. His texts were-no-bullshit, all to the point. You loved his bluntness.
He’d grown on you. You’d bump into each other every now and then and grab a quick bite on your breaks from your shift. Sometimes, he’d even initiate meeting up and grabbing a coffee, though it was pretty rare and those meetings never had a label.
You slowly forgot at what point you started texting him whenever something good or bad happened. Extra shift? Coffee machine out of order again? Updates on your boss? What you ate for breakfast? Your hands are already subconsciously reaching out to text dex.
You weren’t flirting, no god forbid. You didn’t want to come off as a creep to dex and ruin what weird connection you’d built over one-sided-trauma dumping and him listening intently to your boring rambles.
You know he cares, or he wouldn’t be dropping by on your shifts to bring you snacks. He wouldn’t remember tiny things that even your best friend wouldn’t be able to tell.
Like last time when you were eating a greasy burger and he’d said nonchalantly “i thought you hated pickles” and watched you freeze. You don’t even remember when you’d mentioned that to him. And then even before that, when you’d forgotten your wool gloves in the chilly autumn winds, and he’d dropped off at your work with a new pair and a resigned sigh at your carelessness.
.
You think it was month 5 when you’d subconsciously leaned in each other’s personal space without the other minding. Normal things that felt too intimate for some reason. He’d walk you home sometimes, and your hands would gently intertwine with his, your palm slotting perfectly with his.
Or in other quiet ways where he’d keep you away from the sidewalk whenever you’d be walking to the bus stop together. Or when you’d extend an earbud to him and he’d compliment your music taste, watching as you dozed off against his shoulder.
He was the perfect guy, really. He listened, he was reliable. He always picked up at odd hours of the night whenever you couldn’t sleep. He’d always appear when the tiredness would settle into the nook of your bones and you’d be too drained to drag yourself out of bed- coaxing you out of your messy nest and holding you close.
.
Dex thinks he couldn’t possibly fall any harder than he already has, but the ache and longing in his heart every time your message appeared across his screen negated that immediately. How much longer could he go without pretending like you weren’t driving him insane, to the point where every single thought from his waking breath to the lull of his dreams were plagued by you?
Was this love? He hoped it was. Certainly felt like it.
He couldn’t understand it himself. It started off as a quiet solidarity to your unshakeable vigor, as curiosity. And turned into a spiral of obsession he was all too familiar with, turned into something uglier- needier.
Dex falls in love harder and harder whenever you treat him like a normal human being- not an assassin, not fisk’s weapon, not a monster- but him. He hadn’t realized how badly he craved the quiet domesticity you’d brought with you.
You complain and whine about your boss, about the waffle you dropped on the sidewalk, about the cat that bit you while you were feeding it, about your landlord and how he’s so nice to me now its unnerving. You called him your angel and said he was your good luck charm. Dex spent the next hour staring at the message. If only you knew.
Dex always listened to you speak with rigorous attention, every single sentence you spoke already memorized and stored to the back of his mind to replay at night.
If love is mapped by the crease of your eyes whenever you smile at him, if it’s mapped by the sound of your laughter, by the image of your hair dancing to the rhythm of the cool autumn winds- then he’s so maddeningly in love. All he can do now is to not fuck up the best thing that has happened to him.
.
Slowly, but surely, your relationship with Dex turns into something more. Something that turned less platonic after he asked you to visit his apartment.
Neither of you ever sat down and discussed it, nor was it a grand confession, but a slow realization built over a period of time that led you two to fall into a cycle of comfort with each other. The first time he invited you over, you’d expected something depressing. Bare walls, maybe? or a mattress on the floor. Maybe a folding chair or two. He was usually away for his work, so you thought maybe his house wouldn’t really be furnished.
Instead, his place was nice. Far nicer than yours, though comparing anything to your apartment felt a little unfair. Your place wasn’t exactly built for competition.
Everything was organized, books were lined alphabetically, counters were spotless, the furniture looked expensive and barely lived in. He always did seem extremely bothered when he’d entered your messed up apartment, always cleaning out your shelves, offering to arrange your books. You’d immediately ruined the atmosphere by leaving your shoes in the middle of his hallway.
“Sorry,” you’d muttered, dragging your shoes to the stand near the doorway.
“For what?”
“Messing up the cleanliness in your apartment.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, “You don’t need to apologize, not with me”
From that day onwards, you’d regularly visit his apartment. Sometimes he texted you, sometimes you boldly invited yourself over, sometimes you’d show up carrying takeout and immediately make yourself comfortable on his couch like you paid rent there. You didn’t, obviously, you could barely afford the rent at your own place.
Physical touch was scarce. Though there was the lingering kiss you placed on his cheek every now and then, the moments where you’d sprawl all over him while watching a movie late into the night. Sometimes you got the feeling dex was hesitant in initiating physical touch with you, so you took matters into your hands. You’d reach for his hand out in public, and watch as the stiffness in his shoulders relaxed. You’d swipe the residue crumbs left on his mouth and took notice of how he shuddered every time just a little.
.
║9:25PM dex: Come over? I bought your favorite snacks, we could watch the movie you were talking about.
You were lounging in your apartment after a long day at work when your phone pinged with dex’s message.
Even for yours and Dex’s ungodly habit of appearing at each other’s apartments at random hours, this was pretty late.
Normally, you would’ve declined at such a late hour, but since it was the weekend you didn’t really mind, and dex had mentioned your favorite snacks. You quickly shot him a text and dressed comfortably before heading out.
From there, it was routine.
The walk to his apartment, the methodical press to his apartment floor on the elevator, the familiar walk down the hallway.
The sound of the lock clicking open before you even had the chance to knock.
“You know normal people wait for their guests to knock first,” you chastised him as you stepped inside.
“You texted me when you got here.”
“That’s not the point.”
Dex stepped aside to let you enter.
“I think it is.”
You rolled your eyes. He wasn’t one to back down from an argument.
The smell of buttered popcorn wafted through his apartment and it was enough to ease your mind off any worries about the upcoming week. You hastily leaned down to remove your shoes near the doorway and your bag landed somewhere on his couch, disturbing the systematic cleanliness of his apartment.
“You’re leaving your stuff everywhere.”
“This is my nesting process, you should get used to it”
You settled comfortably into the couch, tugging the blanket that hung over its side over your shoulders.
Dex trudged over with the popcorn and drinks tucked in the crook of his elbows. You didn’t bother asking if he needed any assistance, because he would never allow you to lift a finger whenever you were in his vicinity.
The movie started ten minutes later, or at least it tried to. Because of your annoying habit (endearing, dex would argue) of blabbering whenever you could, you lasted twenty-three minutes before starting commentary.
“That guy is absolutely the murderer.”
“He isn’t.”
“How can you be so sure? He literally has murderer eyes.”
Dex looked away from the screen.
“Murderer eyes?”
“You know exactly what I mean, you’re an FBI agent…” you gave him a suspicious look.
“I really don’t.”
The bickering didn’t stop until the credits rolled. Even though you had dozed off quite a few times during the movie, you still found it in yourself to argue with dex at any given moment- just because you loved annoying him so.
Your head felt heavier, and your eyes even more so.
At some point during the movie, your shoulders had brushed and neither of you pulled away. A little while later, your head was fully resting against his and his arm had settled around your waist.
Neither of you had acknowledged it.
The movie had ended twenty minutes ago,
You should probably go home, it was nearing midnight. But you couldn’t deny yourself this small comfort, and judging by how dex was clinging to you, you could say the same for him.
The television cast a faint glow across the apartment, painting everything in shades of blue and silver.
You tilted your head back slightly to glance at him. Big mistake.
Dex was already looking at you, which wasn’t unusual for him. He looked at you a lot, but this felt different.
The air shifted and your heart picked up speed.
“Dex?”
His eyes flickered briefly to your lips before returning to your gaze, the movement so subtle you almost missed it.
“Hm?”
Suddenly every thought abandoned you.
A slow smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, as he caught onto your dazed expression.
“You forgot.”
Heat immediately crawled up your neck.
“Shut up.” The smile widened slightly, you hated how much you liked seeing it.
The silence settled again, full of something soft.
Your eyes drifted to his mouth before you could stop yourself.
When you looked back up, his expression had changed. Something that made your stomach tighten.
The hand resting against your waist shifted slightly, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. His grip was light enough to give you room to pull away.
You could tell by the way he was breathing, he really wanted this. And you would be a fool to deny him.
He inched his lips closer, and you met him halfway.
The kiss was tentative at first, dex pulling you close enough that you straddled his lap, it was soft, inviting. The second you pulled away, he searched you for any sort of displeasure or regret, but when he found none but growing lust he crashed his lips against yours with more rigor.
Every push of your tongues, raw and powerful, unleashes another muffled groan into each other’s mouth. The smell of his cologne, your shitty supermarket perfume you sprayed on today as a whim. Your hands tightened around his sturdy biceps, pulling another groan from him.
Sweet, he thinks. Your lips taste sweet. Like the times he dips a spoon of honey into his tea.
He moves his lips so deliciously against yours, so dextrous, so demanding, that it makes you weak in the knees.
You curl your fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots, pulling him close enough you’d be mistaken for one being. The kiss breaks off into bouts of panting, a thread of saliva that quickly snaps between your and his lips. You needed more, you could feel dex searching your eyes for confirmation.
A nod later and your shirt was being tugged off, your bra unclasped and thrown off into the distance. You hastily reciprocated his actions- pulling his loose shirt off him, before smashing your lips against his once more.
Your hands wandered down to his chest, feeling the taut skin on the ridges of his defined abs, tracing light scars and gun wounds he no doubt got from his time working at the FBI.
You could feel his breath stutter as your hands traced a particularly gruesome wound, he could sense your curiosity about the question you were longing to ask, so he worked to make you busy.
His mouth latched onto the sensitive skin at the corner of your jaw, sucking harshly enough that all rational thought left your mind. His lips traced their path down to your collarbone, biting and licking to claim his mark on your skin. He trailed kisses of fire between the valleys of your breasts, sucking a harsh purple mark there.
He enveloped one soft bud between his mouth, groaning as the salt from your skin flooded his taste buds. You felt like you could cum just by his heady ministrations, practically feeling your core begging to be relieved.
You grinded on his thigh, trying to find a good enough rhythm to get that familiar high.
“God, goodness, you are so soft,” He took in a deep breath, trying to find a semblance of composure because lord, you’d really throw him off the rails if you continued to act this fucking lewd.
His hands engulfed your hips, moving you back and forth on his thigh as he suckled on your breasts, groping the other and tweaking the nipple between his calloused fingers. He bit into one and you groaned at the pained pleasure, feeling as he soothed the skin with a stripe of his tongue, swirling it at the tip of the bud. He was panting just by being able to taste the soft skin of your tits.
Needy, he was so needy. You could feel his frustration evident in his growing erection. You, yourself, were practically drooling at the mouth as you palmed him, watching him sigh as he closed his eyes shut.
Not for long though, because Dex was on a mission, and he was not one to back off a challenge easily. His lips smashed against yours again, and you could feel the steely resolve rolling off him.
He lifted your hips just enough so that he could tug off your shorts with ease, peeling them away from your legs, slowly lowering you down to lay your back down on the couch- never once parting his lips from yours.
Once he was sure you were comfortable, he pulled back, smiling at the agitated whine that accompanied your lips. God, you were going to be the death of him.
He sat on his haunches to look at your disheveled state in all its glory, raking his eyes down your form embarrassingly slow. His eyes seem to glue somewhere in your nether regions, particularly your pussy glistening shamelessly wet from your white linen underwear, your folds visible from the way your arousal had made it see through.
“All this for me, sweet girl?” Fuck, he couldn’t stop the embarrassing whine that pulled out of his chest from seeing you so eager, he loved seeing you like this, but he couldn’t help but tease.
He lowered himself down a little, kissing his way from your ankle to your thighs treacherously slow, peppering open mouthed kisses and little suckles here and there. He paid particular attention to your inner thighs, sucking bruises on your skin and soothing them with soft licks, never straying towards where you needed him to, but close enough for him to smell your sex.
You were a moaning mess by this point, all you wanted was for him to touch you where you wanted- no needed him the most, or you would lose yourself.
“F-fuck, fuck, Dex, just give it to me already!” You couldn’t stop the broken moans that pulled from your lips, god you would beg on your knees if he wanted just so he could relieve some of the horrible ache, you could feel your arousal leaking out of you and glistening on your thighs, streaking downwards as Dex caught them with a swipe of his tongue.
“Wont you show some patience, baby? I’m busy here” You could feel his smirk as he continued his lapping of your thighs, the lilt of his voice when he was teasing you, sucking color wherever he could reach.
Every part of you burned with need, “please, please? Please, dex. I need you, please” your breath caught in your voice as he practically lunged to your pussy, grinning wildly from ear to ear at your eagerness.
He huffed out, “All you had to do was ask sweetly, princess,” before diving straight to your clothed clit.
“O-oh, oh Dex!” He pressed sweet kisses to your mound, relishing in the sweet taste that leaked out from your core, lapping it up like a mad man. He swiped kitten licks wherever he could reach, practically making out with your pussy.
“Ngh, fffuck,” you were in too much bliss.
Your underwear was now practically glued to you, sticky with his spit and your arousal.
Eventually, he decided this was not enough. And he could feel you were growing frustrated too if your whines were anything to go by. Your eyes were teary, lip swollen and puffy and frustration for the lack of release evident in your scrunched up eyebrows. Heavens, you were adorable.
He peeled your underwear off and stuffed the wet cloth in his back pocket, pushing your legs to your chest so he could take a good look at his meal.
Your puffy clit was just begging for attention, if your drenching wetness was enough of a hint, glinting lewdly in the dim yellow light. Fuck, his cock was straining against his pants at the erotic sight.
He hunched back down, huffing out soft breaths against your pussy to watch you squirm. He pressed another soft kiss at your bare core, before indulging you. He drags his long index finger from your entrance all the way to your clit, watching as you squirm your head against the armrest. He would be distracted from the sight of your perky tits heaving up and down due to your irregular breathing only if he didn’t remember he had a mission to complete.
“Mm…p-please Dex”
His finger pushed into you experimentally, and you’re gasping, eyes twitching from the pleasure his one finger brought. He laughs cruelly at your gasping form, before slowly pumping it in and out of you, giving you a little time to adjust.
His mouth lowers down once again and settles onto your sensitive core, sucking harshly, while simultaneously fingering you. He pushes another rough finger inside, watching with his pupils blown out how easily you take him because of the mess of arousal and spit your pussy had become. He feels your legs thrash around his head-rebelling from their position tucked to your chest, so he slings a strong arm over them to keep them in place.
His fingers take up a fast tempo, curling them and hitting that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling and back arching off the sofa.
“D-dex, n-ngh, god it’s so good” You could see white when his tongue flattened against you, filthy noises erupting from his chest at the taste.
His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles on the aching nub- feeling you tighten around his fingers as trickles of wetness roll from you, his tongue greedily lapping it all up.
“Baby, your pussy’s going crazy right now, so fucking tight” he’s huffing out a snicker as he steps up his tempo, slamming his fingers repeatedly to that cushiony spot he’s practically memorized by this point, grinning as you warble out incoherent cries. Bullseye.
What threw you off the edge was when he hums against your core; sending vibrations to your center and tingles all over your body, you come undone so violently you feel your eyes rolling back and you swear you see god.
He keeps fucking you through your high, never once faltering in his lewd ministrations, keeping a tight hold of your legs as your legs buckle, clamping shut around his dirty blonde head, threatening to keep him trapped between your thighs.
You sigh when you come down from your high, feeling dex still suckling out all the wetness you had spilled from your entrance. You were too sensitive now, your hands tugged lightly at his hair to get him off of you but he didn’t so much as budge.
“Let me.. let me taste, baby” he was practically glued to your pussy, but the sensitivity was getting too much.
“‘M too sensitive, dex, get off,” he grunts before pulling away, eyebrows furrowed and a pained expression painting his face as if it physically hurt him to be away from your pussy.
He was about to fucking burst in his pants just by looking at the mess you’d made between your thighs, the juices there winking devilishly at him under the lights, all too tantalizing.
You needed more, you needed more of him. You wanted to reciprocate the mind numbing pleasure he’d brought you. So you reached forward to unbuckle his belt, and he helped you pull him out of his trousers.
The painful bulge lining his boxers made your mouth water, and you palmed him through his briefs. He closed his eyes at your teasing.
“Let me taste you, Dex” You looked at him from under your lashes, trying to get him to agree. You wanted to show him the same pleasure, but it seemed Dex was too impatient to waste another second not burying himself to the hilt inside of you, because with a shake of his head your hand was shrugged off and your back towards the couch.
He hooked a thumb under his briefs and slowly pulled it off, snorting at your dumbified expression. You knew he was big, you knew it from his hard outline, but seeing his cock out in the flesh was a god sent experience .
“Ready, baby? how do you want it?” You nodded vigorously, hoping to convey him the sense of urgency you felt.
“Raw, m on birth control, Dex”
“Raw it is” He smirks.
He doesn’t waste a single second strewing your legs over his broad shoulders, before aligning himself to your slick entrance, rubbing himself upward, circling his tip around your clit in a way that had your hand shooting up so you could grip onto his arm. He taps his finger against your core a few times, before pushing himself in with no further loitering.
You grabbed at anything for purchase, his biceps, his neck, the sofa, anything. Because nothing could have prepared you for the fullness that his cock brought. God, you felt him in your tummy, with the way you could see the bulge forming as he penetrated you. You were so full.
He kept your legs hooked tightly over his shoulders, before fully unleashing hell on your pussy. He’s moving precisely enough to hit that spot over and over and over again, you feel the tears streaking down your cheeks as he rams into you, holding you tightly enough that you don’t inch away from his onslaught of fury against your pussy.
“L-lord , oh lord. I feel so f-full” your tears cloud your eyes now, and one of his hands move down to caress the outline of the bulge that appeared every time he pushed in.
He won’t stop moving now, the sofa is creaking under his brutal and almost feral movements. You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but claw at the rippling muscle of his back, and gasp when his hand traces over your abdomen to your clit, giving you feather light, teasing flicks as he rams into your body. You just lay there and took it.
You could feel the slick of your recent orgasm drip from you and cling to your skin each time he pulled his hips back, and each time he pushed back in.
“Baby you’re doing so good, so perfect.” He muttered praises to your mouth, never stopping once.
He bends your legs to your chest, keeping them in place as he pulls out slowly before ramming back in, repeating his motions over and over again until your resolve resigns and all you can do is claw at his neck.
“Say my fucking name, sweet girl. Tell me how fucking bad you want me.”
“Want you,” you whine, trying to get just a little more friction. “Fuck, Ben, I want you so bad, I need you-“
He’s pounding into you now, the echo of skin against skin reverberating around the living room, and you’d worry if the neighbors could hear if you weren’t so fucking dumbified.
His mouth found yours, tongue slipping into your mouth in a sloppy kiss. You whined against it, and God, the moan he released in response had your toes curling and your stomach tensing. So quickly, so soon.
His heavy balls smack against your ass every time he pushes in, and you know you’re going to be sore come tomorrow morning, but you hardly find it in you to care when he’s fucking you so good. His finger trailed down to rub torturous circles over your clit.
Your jaw slackened, but no sounds could escape you, not when you did not feel as if you could inhale, or even exhale. Breathing seemed unattainable from how lost you were in this pleasure. And he seemed to notice, “Breathe, baby, breathe- you can take it, you can take what I’m giving you.”
You exhaled shakily, feeling your legs tremble around his hold as the knot in your belly began to untwist itself. Your second orgasm came without warning. White lights dotted behind your closed eyelids, and you felt your thighs convulse against him.
He just kept fucking you through it, kept you in that prolonged state of bliss. He chased his own high as he watched you sob from the pleasure, bending down to lick a stripe of salty tears from your cheeks and groaning at the taste.
He whispered a curse as your walls clenched around his length once more, finally throwing him over the edge. His sperm shot out of him in white ropes, spilling deep in your tummy and leaving you bloated from how much he came.
For a moment, you both slumped against each other. He was still buried to the hilt inside you but yoh allowed each other to catch breath. He’d never felt so light before, so free as your fingers brushed over his cheek, and you pulled him down against you.
“You okay?” He whispered against you, didn’t wanna disturb the fragile silence that coated you both.
“Mhm..’m okay” you could barely string together coherent sentences after being fucked so good, despite being full to the brim you wanted more, but were embarrassed to ask more of him.
He rest his head against your chest, slowly lowering your legs to his waist. After a while of quiet, comfortable silence where he tracked your irregular breathing back to normal, he started pressing kisses to your sweat glazed body.
He only stopped when you grasped at his arm, gazing up at him with bright eyes, whispering, “Please,” again.
He could only smile, tenderly, leaning down to press his mouth against yours in a brief kiss.
“Are you ready for me, again?” he asked, though he knew the answer.
.
You’d visited Dex’s apartment enough times by this point that it had started feeling less like his apartment and a little more like yours too. Your favorite snacks lived in his cabinet, an extra blanket was strewn across the couch because you always complained about being cold, the fridge was stocked with your favorite food and leftovers.
He had asked you out a few months ago, winter had passed and spring was just around the corner.
Being in a relationship with Dex was extremely domestic, should’ve terrified you, but instead you found it embarrassingly comforting.
Which was why after waiting outside his apartment with food tucked under your arm, you’d called dex to open the door and he’d given you the location of his spare keys and told you to let yourself in as he finished something at work.
Nothing unusual. Just Dex and his top secret stuff holding him up. He never liked to talk about his work, anyways, and you learnt to never ask him about it.
You found the spare beneath the potted plant, and the apartment greeted you with the same familiar silence. You headed straight to the kitchen to place the food, hung your coat near the doorway, and remembered midway that youd forgotten your phone charger in Dex’s bedroom last week.
Twenty minutes of searching later, you found yourself kneeling in front of a cabinet you’d never bothered opening before. Mostly because Dex was weirdly organized and you preferred not disturbing whatever system his FBI brain had concocted.
You tugged the latch. No charger. Instead, a black cardboard box, with a thin satin ribbon tied on top. You hesitantly reached out, dex would surely be very mad at you for going through his things. but you were his girlfriend, right? You had a right on his things just as he did on yours.
Curiosity killed the cat. Fortunately, you weren’t a cat.
You lifted the lid, and felt your stomach drop.
A pit seemed to form in your stomach, tendrils of horror curdling deep in your belly.
Photographs. Hundreds of them, stacked methodically. Ripped journal entries. A dried flower, pressed and preserved that you’d given him back in spring as a joke.
Your fingers trembled as you picked one out of the stack. It was of you.
You. Leaving work, catching the bus, walking home with groceries, your apartment door, your bed, you in that bar you frequented, you serving another customer during work hours. You, laughing. You, in that park you always sat in during weekends. The pictures seemed endless. None of them were sexual. But they still felt invasive.
It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.
Maybe this isn’t what it looks like? Should you confront dex, or leave? You tried to assure yourself, tried to make up excuses that would justify this.
It would be too easy for dex to find you, no matter where you went. He knew where you frequented, he knew your friends, and you knew it would be child’s work for him to trace you if you stayed at a motel.
You could feel a burst of nausea, staring at pictures older than your relationship, older than your first date, older than your first meeting.
The front door creaked open and you dropped the photographs in fear. You could feel your vision blurring, and your heartbeat seemed to thrum in your ears with every drawled breath. You hastily dropped to your knees, gathering the photos even as your legs steadily gave up.
Footsteps approached you. Steady, and so achingly familiar.
The silence that followed was enormous, neither of you daring to speak.
“Dex.”
Your voice sounded strange,small, very unlike the girl with fire and determination blazing through her veins.
”Hey, love”
He sounded so normal.
You couldn’t believe it. How dare he call you love as if he didn’t stalk you obsessively before you even knew who he was?
For once, you seemed completely drained, “What is this?”
He didn’t respond. He kept staring at you, not daring to step closer to you in this fragile state. In case you punched him, or worse, left.
He couldn’t lose you. He’d go insane, he’d lose his only anchor and go berserk. He was going to fix this, even though right now he felt wrong and foreign and upside down.
You stared at him expectantly.
”Does it matter?” Ambiguous. A trait you always admired in him, how easily he deflected your questions with another question, but right now you felt as if in one more vague answer and youd slam your head against the wall.
He was breathing ragged as he leaned closer to you, kneeling down to where you were sprawled across the floor; trying to regain your composure.
“I made sure nothing happened to you, baby”. He seemed so certain, as if you’re life was his to decide.
You couldn’t stop the disbelieving laugh that rippled out of your chest, and you wiped the haze of tears from your face.
“I thought you were…” you start and stop yourself midway.
Because you don’t really know what word fits anymore. You thought he was safe. You thought he was yours. But reality has a cruel way to crash down any fantasies, just when you thought youd met the love of your life, the man of your dreams.
You watched as Dex inhaled sharply, averting his eyes from yours for the first time.
”I’ve always admired your fire. Youre so sure of everything, you’re so different from what i am baby. You can change me, i know you can. You need me just as i need you,” He was rambling now.
“Need you? I was doing fine on my down, dex! I was doing just fine! You were fucking stalking me, stalking me!”
”No, you weren’t doing fine. You were behind on rent, and Rodriguez was already finding another tenant to replace you, you think you wouldn’t be thrown to the streets if it wasn’t for me? I made him extend his deadline and was the one who stopped your boss from harassing you. You wouldn’t be anywhere without me.” His words were cruel, so cruel, so unlike him. So unlike the man you knew.
“So it was you? The one behind Rodriguez? Behind my boss?”
You watched him scoff, but he didn’t answer.
Suddenly, the hundred impossible coincidences didn’t feel so impossible anymore.
Your landlord, your boss, the bad luck that kept disappearing. The way Dex always seemed to show up exactly when you needed him. The amount of times you’d run into him, where you’d kept on chalking it up to being coincidences. Or your paranoia.
You looked down at the photographs again, then back at him, and watched as his eyes trail your actions. He didn’t look regretful, he didn’t look guilty, he didn’t look scared. His composure was too perfect, given away slightly by his erratic breathing and the wild look in his eyes. You had called him your angel once, your good luck charm.
For the first time since meeting Dex, you found yourself wondering whether you had ever been lucky at all.
༘⋆ pairing: (timeskip) stressed student!reader x katsuki bakugou
༘⋆ tags: oral (f!receiving), cum eating, he kisses you after eating you out, implied sex!
༘⋆ wc: 1.2k
༘⋆ summary: Katsuki helps you de-stress the only way he knows how.
Sticky.
That's the only word you can think of to describe your current situation. You were currently being crushed by the weight of your boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou , his head resting comfortably on your chest.
It isn't unusual for the blonde to be clingy, especially after sex. His body always seems to seek out yours in those quieter, more intimate moments.
Though he would never admit it.
What was meant to be a quick stress reliever somehow turned into two hours disappearing before you noticed. Your laptop sits open on your desk, taunting you with overdue assignments. The moment you notice it, the calm in your chest dissipates, stress creeping back in without hesitation.
Reluctantly, you attempt to shift him off, your bodies sticking together from the lingering warmth. He grumbles incoherently when the mattress dips, his arms now holding your pillow captive in exchange for you.
You move off the bed and put on his t-shirt, your bra and panties not being an option as they rest underneath his hips where he's sprawled out like he owns the place.
You settle into your desk chair with a sigh. It was difficult not to feel a little jealous as you glance at his frame. Katsuki's lips are parted, soft snores resounding in your bedroom as he sleeps like he doesn't have a single responsibility in the world.
Meanwhile, your screen stares back at you.
You try your best to focus on the work in front of you, but the mere size of your to-do list makes your chest tighten. Half-finished assignments, readings you haven't touched.
You've never been particularly good at handling stress.
"What're you doing?" he mumbles, eyes squinting from the brightness of the lamp on your desk. Your back is turned to him, his t-shirt draped over your body. You feel his eyes drilling holes in your back, clearly confused as to why you abandoned him under the sea of blankets.
"Answer me".
Annoyed, you huff. Eyes glued to the screen in front of you.
"Katsuki, just go back to sleep."
There's a short pause before he responds. Long enough for him to analyze your form, the way your shoulders are tensed, your hands bracing your head the form you take on when you're overwhelmed.
"Thought you were taking a break," he mutters, ignoring your attitude.
By now, he's fully sitting up, reaching for the pink water bottle on your dresser. He glares when he's met with silence. The only sound being the clacking of your fingers against the keyboard.
"When's the last time you even drank any water-"
"Katsuki," you start, turning the chair around to finally meet his gaze. "I have a lot of shit to do, so please just let me finish, and I'll come right back. I promise,"
You feel a pang of guilt the moment the words leave your lips, not just for snapping at him but for brushing off the concern evident on his face.
Red eyes bore into yours, as if he doesn't even believe what you're saying.
Silently, he makes his way towards you, standing between your legs. His hands come up to caress your face, small circles placed on your jawline as he looks down at you. He grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you back to the forest of sheets. There'd be no point in fighting him. When Katsuki wanted something, he rarely took no for an answer.
Your quiet protests fall on deaf ears as he guides you toward the bed, sheets welcoming your tired body.
"Twenty minutes," he mutters, dropping back onto the mattress and pulling you down with him. His body weight rests on you once again, his head resting heavily on your stomach. His hands wander the sides of your body, trying to ease some of the tension present in your body.
"Fine. But I'm setting a timer," you say.
After a few taps on your phone, your hands absentmindedly drift into his hair. His steady breathing bringing your mind a moment of peace. Your eyes feel like they have weights on them, body relaxing as his mindless circles left on your hips at the forefront of your mind. Reluctantly, your eyes shut. Sleep desperately grasping at your senses.
Katsuki notices the way your body resists, allowing your eyes to close before you force them open again. The stress of assignments and deadlines clearly on your mind. You clearly just needed to relax, and who was he if not a good boyfriend?
Shortly after, his hands are no longer so obedient. The gentle touches from over the shirt soon shifting to your bare thighs.
"Suki," you warn, hands coming up to grip his wrists. "No sex. You only have 15 minutes now."
Red orbs flick up to meet yours as he moves your legs to his shoulders. Cool air fanning over your heat, your hips twitching at the stimulation.
"Don't worry, won't even take me 10," he smirks, lifting the shirt to rest on your stomach. You roll your eyes at his comment, hands making their way into his hair once again.
Your hips lift off the bed from the feeling of his tongue against your folds, grinding against the feeling of the muscle. His eyes stay glued to your body, watching intensely as you writhe from the stimulation.
"Fuck, Katsuki," you moan, heels digging into his back as he continues unrelentingly. His nose nuzzles into your clit, head shaking as he buries himself deeper between your thighs. His head stills as you move your hips along his tongue, drool seeping from his mouth from the view. He smiles at your actions, proud of the way you use him in the way you need.
Your thighs clench around his head, the feeling of his tongue bringing you closer to your release. He brings his thumb to your clit, the pad of it pressing down on the bud.
"Good girl, just relax," he says, as he laps at the release on his tongue. His tongue continues to move even after you cum, only removing himself when your hands push at his end. He snickers softly before planting a small kiss on your clit, smiling at the way your hole flutters in want.
His hand reaches for your phone, the countdown of the timer shining in his face. He pauses as he stares at the numbers on the screen.
5:36.
"Seems there's only 5 minutes left, princess," he says, flipping the device around to show you. A picture of the two of you showing up on the screen. "We should probably stop, huh?"
You reach a hand to his face to pull him into a kiss, lips brushing against his. His hand travels between you two, rubbing small circles on your clit once again. You moan against his mouth, the taste of your fluids now seeping into your taste buds.
"2 minutes."
You push his hand away, your phone dropping into the valley sheets.
"Fuck the timer."
He laughs.
Because he knows that for the first time all night, your mind is finally quiet.
a/n: this is lowkey a bit self indulgent cause i'm stressed so i'm sure some people will appreciate this! Likes and reblogs are very appreciated, mwah! 💋
Synopsis. Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, landlord! Nanami (kinda), oraI (male + fem), cúmplay, reader’s a tease, unprotected, creampíe, down bad FERAL Nanami, spítting, bréeding, messing up his glasses, pantý-stealing, he’s sweet but fúcks so MEAN, mentions of Higuruma, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.8k (wild)
A/N. Decided it was high time I feed my Nanami girlies hehe.
“Just get the money and go.” Nanami deadpans, like a mantra. Giving a rapt knock on your apartment door, “I swear m’making him buy me lunch for this.”
Now, it wasn’t that Nanami was exactly upset about taking over Higuruma’s landlord duties for the day - no, in fact, he was the first one at his friend’s door with a bag of prescription medicine for the other man’s fever and the suggestion to take the day off.
But it was the thought of finally coming face-to-face with you - that mysterious new tenant that’d just moved into his building. The one that had Nanami wondering whether you were really as “sugary sweet n’ irresistible” as Higuruma raved you were.
Though, he can’t imagine you’d be particularly happy about being woken up at 10am on a Sunday for overdue rent - he certainly wasn’t.
Seriously, he had no idea how Higuruma managed to do this every-
Click!
“Higu- you’re not Higuruma.”
Oh, and suddenly, Nanami gets it.
If he got to see this view, too, then he might just become the landlord himself.
It’s as if you knew you’d be playing with his sanity as soon as you opened that door, dressed in a fitted t-shirt that did absolutely everything to show off every bit of skin he shouldn’t be looking at. Your lips curving into a sinful little smirk when you notice his eyes dancing off that excuse of fabric you call “shorts”.
“Um…” you hum, after a few moments of silence. Leaning against your wooden door frame to give the tall man an appreciative one-over, “Nanami, right? You’re Higuruma’s friend?”
It’s as if the sound of his own name jolts Nanami right back into his senses, clearing his throat as he readjusts his glasses. “Y-yes. Nanami Kento.” And he winces, fuck he’s never stuttered like this. Never, even in the toughest of board meetings. Yet, here he was - making a fool out of himself.
Knowing he’s completely fucked when your delicious grin only widens, he bows politely, “Apologies for barging in like this, ma’am. But Higuruma’s sick n’ m’here to collect the rent in his place.”
You wave off his formality, introducing yourself. “Ah, of course. I’ve seen you around, always been too nervous to come up and say hello, though.”
And, suddenly, Nanami’s glad you never came up to him to talk out of your own volition, he thinks he’s rather put off embarrassing himself for later. Coughing softly, “I apologize, s’my fault. It was rude of me to not introduce myself first.”
“Well, better late than never, right?” you continue in your smooth tone. Before your eyes catch down his broad shoulders, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clipboard held between his long, long fingers. “Right- the overdue rent. I swear, Higuruma’s always such a sweetheart, he doesn’t bother to remind me.” Opening your door wider to give Nanami a good look inside your cozy apartment - something forbidden. “Come in come in, I seem to have lost my wallet somewhere in here though, maybe you can help me find it.”
Oh?
And Nanami knows this is dangerous. He knows this is much more than his simple plan earlier of just “get the money and go”. He knows that little glint in your eye certainly does not bode well for him as soon as he steps through that door.
Yet, he answers anyway, “Of course, lead the way.”
Every bit of small talk in your sultry voice has Nanami gulping, loosening his favorite yellow tie while he follows you inside. Averting his eyes from the curve of your shorts, he takes in the neat state of your apartment.
That is, until-
“Here we are.” you lead him to a towering pile of clothes piled unceremoniously on your tv room couch. Gesturing airily at the mess, “I’m sure I left my wallet in one of my pants, so you can just sit here until I-”
“I’ll do it.” Nanami’s quick answer stuns the both of you momentarily. But before you can resist, he’s shrugging off his jacket, ignoring the heat of your gaze when he bunches up his sleeves to reveal strong, veined forearms. “It’s only fair, since m’bothering you so early.”
You chuckle, “Oh? What a gentleman, we can do it together then, handsome.”
So here he was - sat on your cramped couch, your thighs flush against his, tackling your laundry. This was definitely a far cry from getting the rent and leaving - but, alas, Nanami can’t find it in himself to complain when he neatly folds up your clothes.
Whereas you were hastily throwing them god-knows-where, hissing, “Where- is it-”
“Patience.” he’s humming, placing another t-shirt on your coffee table. “Higuruma’s in no hurry, he can barely get out of bed right now.”
You click your tongue in frustration, “But you, Nanami-”
“-are perfectly fine helping you out.” Nanami cuts in, flashing you a gentle smile. Your eyes widen at the sight of a soft dimple at the corner of it. Which makes him tear his gaze from that pretty pout on your lips to turn back to his dwindling half of the pile, “Besides, it would be a shame if such a nice apartment was messed up by- by-”
Fuck.
Was that what he thought it was?
His fingers tremble, looking so fucking big wrapped around that those tiny strings of hot pink. Sinful. Obscene. Shit, if he tried he could just rip it to pieces with his bare hands right now - even if you’d been wearing it.
“Hm?” you’re gasping at the sight of the man before you, body stiff, ears a guilty red, gaze hardening at where he was holding onto one of your panties. Oh, shit. You pluck the offending piece of material from his hands, “Oh- whoops. Um- that can’t really be folded.” Throwing a wink at the flustered man - and the lingerie right back at him. “Evidently.”
It was all too much for Nanami, and he’s bringing a hand up to cover his blush - before ripping it off like it burned when he realized it was the same hand he held your panties with.
Somehow, he manages to choke out, “Maybe- maybe we should try looking somewhere else.”
And it was true - the few messy clothes now leftover (and…Nanami couldn’t forget, your underwear) didn’t show any signs of hiding your wallet.
“If you say so~” you muse, getting up from your seat - only to get down on your knees. Right in front of Nanami’s manspread legs.
“Wh-what are you-”
“Under the couch.” you interrupt, enjoying this way too fucking much for the poor man’s sanity as you flash him a cheeky grin. And he smacks himself mentally for letting his imagination be toyed by your teasing whims. “I might’ve dropped it under the couch, so won’t you be a dear and help lift it while I look?”
He couldn’t get up fast enough, almost stumbling over his long legs to crouch down beside you - just anywhere away from this scandalous position. “Ready?” Nanami rasps, biceps bulging tight against his button-up when he easily tilts over your couch.
“More than.” you take a second longer to admire him before going back to your mission.
Which - whatever’s left of the rational part of Nanami’s brain really thinks might just be to drive him insane instead finding that fucking- what was it- wallet?
“Hmmm seems it’s not here either, right, Ken?” He doesn’t know what he’s reeling at more - the fact that you used his first fucking name or the way you were arched so teasingly like that. On your knees, spine curving into a delicious little bend that has the crotch of his pants growing just a bit tighter. And- shit he was wrong. So, so wrong. Because those weren’t a sinful pair of shorts like he’d initially thought after all, instead, they were more like underwear. Flimsy and thin, bunching up perfectly at the crease of your hips.
You were captivating.
At his heavy silence, you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Oh? Was it the name? Sorry, Nanami, you’ve just helped me so much that it ah- slipped out. I won’t do it again.”
“No.” he grits out, the both of you surprised by the ragged hitch in his answer. Already so disgustingly missing the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. “I’d like it if you called me that- ‘Ken’ that is, if you want.”
“Well then, Ken.” you brush up unnecessarily against his sculpted body as you move to get up and dust yourself down. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wallet’s not down there.”
Shit, he thinks, looking down at the empty spot of carpeted floor for the first time. You little tease, you knew what you were doing.
Grinning unabashedly as you tug on his arm, “Come on! There’s one more place to look.”
As you pulled him along to the kitchen, Nanami had held out the hope that maybe - just maybe - this would be an actual attempt at finally paying off your overdue rent. Maybe he could walk out of this unscathed and holding onto whatever’s left of his dignity (and lacking the raging boner that was threatening against his slacks right now).
But every feeble hope of that was thrown out the window the moment you instructed him to hold the rickety, certainly unsafe chair propped up in front of your counter steady.
“I swear I must’ve left it somewhere up there.” you grumble. Not wasting a moment before climbing onto it and rifling on top of your high cabinets. “No harm in trying, right?”
He gulps, palms getting sweaty on the wooden back of the chair with the effort to keep it still. “Are you sure you left it on top of there?”
“Huh? Yes yes, of course.” you answer absentmindedly. Your shirt snagging on your arms as you raise them even higher, “Think you can see something from down there?”
If Nanami could see the top of your shelves, then he didn’t want to find out - not when one glance upwards blessed him with a forbidden glimpse right up your t-shirt. All it took was a flash of skin before he was hit with the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra.
“Ken~”
“Fuck!” he breathes, when he looks up involuntarily at the sound of his name. Face burning when you raise a brow, “U-um, m’not sure.”
Yeah, he sure could see something - hell, he wanted to see more.
He urgently swipes at the sweat slowly beading at his forehead, immediately regretting his actions when the chair tips ever-so-slightly. “Shit, I apologize, n’ I also apologize for what I’m about to do-” He gasps over your soft yelp, before wrapping two warm hands around the small of your waist. Searing. Soft. Planting you softly on the firm floor like some lil’ ragdoll, “-but I can’t let you put yourself in danger this way.”
Before you know it, you’re back in the safety of the ground. Stood right in front of a determined Nanami as he cranes his head up in your stuffy kitchen, backed up against the counter as he takes over looking for your wallet.
“Let me, instead.” he grunts.
But oh even with how genius he thought it was to look instead - even with how he stopped himself from looking at that sinful little slice of heaven - Nanami Kento had another problem.
A problem that presented itself in the way that your body was pressed flush against his muscled chest, two of your thighs straddling his thick ones. Caged perfectly against him, exactly in the way he shouldn’t have been imagining - but did, anyway. And shit if he angled his body just right he could feel the heat of your core - the way your eager front was drawing in closer.
“Ah-” he grunts when your soft palm glides lightly across his pecs. Jaw clenching while he tries to blink his hazy eyes back into the glaringly empty top of your cabinets, “My apologies, seems uh- your wallet isn’t- here-”
Each word is wrenching out of his pretty, worry-bitten lips, a ragged gasp with every accidental brush of the pads of your fingers at the hem of his tight pants.
“It isn’t there, hm?” you purr, a low honeyed tone that has all the blood in Nanami’s body rushing to his fat cock. “Well what do you suppose we do about that, Ken? Since I can’t pay the rent?”
Nanami doesn’t know whether you’re talking about the rent or that massive tent in his pants he really couldn’t explain away. Instead, he spits, “You knew what you were hah- doing, didn’t you, you lil’ minx? You don’t have your fuckin’ wallet here.”
And the air is so thick, so heady that he can only bring himself to pull away mere millimeters from where he was hovering near your face.
But even that was too much - and in a split-second, you have your deft fingers wrapped tightly around his speckled tie. “And if I did?” Pulling close enough to ghost your lips against his, “You’re smart, Ken. So m’asking once again, what do you suppose we do about that?”
As if to draw out the answer from him, you’re giving a long, hard drag of your hot cunt along the outline of his swollen cock. You could almost feel every throb and nudge of his veins along the side, and it made you salivate.
“I suppose…” he answers, guttural, like some dark, primal part of himself is peaking its head out with each hot breath fanning your face. A large hand coming up to squish your cheeks into a pretty pout, pursing your lips perfectly for him. “That you hit me if you don’t like this, darling.”
And fuck for all how much of a gentleman Nanami acted - he kissed the exact opposite. All but ruining your lips in such a messy clash of teeth and tongue and him. Devouring you.
“Fuck- shoulda known.” he’s letting out a humorless laugh, swiping his tongue across your glossy lower lips. “Should’ve known when you invited me in. Such a tease.” Drinking in your breathless moans, sucking on your tongue, “Such a- ngh- horny lil’ thing. This what you wanted all along?”
You hum into the kiss so drunk, “Maybe.” Dancing your hands all across where his toned muscles were fighting against the restraints of his shirt, “But you really can’t blame me.”
And maybe it was true - maybe this was inevitable. Either way, Nanami didn’t know, nor did he really care - not when you were letting out such sweet gasps when he bites down on your bottom lip - just a little punishment. Kissing his way down your heated skin, giving a languid lick at where he suspected that secret sensitive spot on your neck would be.
“Oh! Ken.” you moan. Bingo.
He’s unbuttoned his shirt now - or maybe it was you. Fuck, either way you couldn’t tear your eyes off of his pretty washboard abs. Curving and dipping like he was sculpted meticulously.
And that’s all it takes for your already-dripping cunt to grow impossibly wetter, and he could feel it leaking through those flimsy cotton shorts of yours. Forming a messy sheen right at that damp spot of precum on his pants.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet, my love.” Nanami murmurs, swiping a thumb down that sopping wet slit of yours through your shorts. Just marveling at the way that simple touch makes another wave of your sweet sweet juices bead through the fabric. “Hah, absolutely dripping. This all f’me?”
At your half-delirious nod, he flashes you a smile so handsome that it only makes you squirm more impatiently. “How sweet.” Giving your nose a chaste peck, “So good to me. So needy.”
“You’re the same, though.” you accuse, hotly.
And it’s true - Nanami couldn’t deny the aching need of his cock, the way he all but moans in response, “Then tell me- hngh tell me what you want. I’ll give you- anything-” Managing to get out through hot, sloppy kisses planted right on your wobbly lips, “-anything.”
But, ah, you always did manage to surprise him. And instead of an answer, you’re getting right down on your knees in front of him like you did not too long ago - though, this time, you’re reaching up to fumble with his belt.
“Wan’ taste you.” you huff when his expensive notches prove too stubborn. “Wan’ feel you in my mouth so bad, Ken.”
“Oh yeah?” he chuckles darkly, easily loosening his belt and his pants along with it. Rock-hard cock sensitive and just smearing a pool of precum where his fat head springs up to hit your lips. Such a pretty shade of gloss. Nanami laces his hand on your scalp to guide you forwards, slowly, “Then take it. Take it f’me, pretty.”
He was so pretty that you possibly couldn’t not - a delicate blushing red at his very tip, glistening and absolutely soaked in precum down the long path to his creamy base, his heavy balls. So girthy that it made your cunt clench in anticipation.
And then there’s no more talking. Hell, you barely get enough time to admire Nanami’s massive cock before he’s bullying it between your lips. Wetting his thick, angry tip with your saliva, just enough to eye down at the way your lips bulge so prettily around him.
“Gonna hafta open w-wider if you wanna take me, pretty. Open hah- yeah jus’ like that.” He’s reeling your head back, all the way till you were just kissing at his thick, angry tip. “Now spit on it, my love.”
Despite being the one to say it, Nanami’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief when you’re readily decorating his swollen length with a steady stream of spit. Your soft palms smearing the saliva along his length.
You’re slurring, “After all, I still haven’t found my wallet, right?”
And oh he doesn’t even have to ask for what comes next - doesn’t even have to make a noise.
Immediately, you take him in inch by fucking inch. The deliciously salty twang taking over your senses, and he’s so hot and heavy over your tongue. Veins pulsing in a dizzyingly throb! throb! throb! against the roof of your mouth.
“Are you- are you sure you can-” You shut up his doubts by rubbing your hot tongue along every sensitive ridge you could reach. Bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless little pace to milk his pretty cock for all he’s worth.
Nanami’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Was this what heaven felt like?
“F-fuuuck, oh you-” his words are catching in his throat with each flick of the tip of your tongue against his sensitive slit. Just the way he liked it. “-ngh guess that sharp mouth of yours wasn’t just hah- good for teasing, huh?”
He’s running his mouth a mile a minute - the complete opposite of the reserved man that’d come knocking on your door. Hips grinding up into your warm tongue mindlessly, slow. Languid - like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Oh you feel so heavenly- so fuckin’ good it should be illegal.”
You can’t help but bat your teary eyes up at him in response, blinking away the lustful haze to drink in that utterly obscene sight above you. Nanami’s neat, blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled, stray strands sticking to his furrowed brow. Only deepening with each wrecked sigh that leaves his plump lips every time his abs flex with the movement of his fat head hitting the gummy back of your throat.
He looks so pretty it makes you moan.
Those electric vibrations going all the way down that wet divot on the tip of Nanami’s painfully hard cock to his heavy balls.
“Oh shit- shit shit shit feels too good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you gag around him. “Don’t do that don’t-” This only makes you drag your sloppy mouth down him deeper, syrupy moans sticking to
him all the while.
“Fuck!” Nanami shudders. And he’s pulling you down - hard - barely letting you get a feverish little breath out until your nose is hitting the neat patch of blond at his base. Rubbing up against his toned pelvis.
Still moving in deep, relentless thrusts inside your gummy cavern. “S’real fuckin’ hard to treat you as nice as I want when you act like that, my love.”
And, of course, the only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles as you take him in faster. Cheeks hollowing to massaging his every sweet spot. Your jaw grinding against his twitching balls with each smack of his hypnotized hips against your mouth, fucking into you the way he wished he could do with your cunt. Frenzied. Sloppy.
Yeah, this was heaven alright - but you were the fuckin’ devil.
Of course, you wanted him to treat you like such a slut - so he does.
Just dragging your stubborn mouth off of his twitching cock, Nanami only reaches down to place an accomplished peck on the pout of your mouth before hoisting you onto the counter. “What? You think I’d really ngh- cum before my darling girl?”
He’s groaning into your mouth, licking at the seam of your candied lips as two strong arms of his spread your legs so far apart it burned. “F-fuck, Ken-”
“Aw look. You’ve got another slutty pair, huh?” he gestures down at the drenched scrap of fabric you so proudly called “panties.” Sliding a thumb underneath to glide it underneath your puffy pussy lips. He’s echoing your sentiment from before, “Said you can’t find your hah- wallet, right?” Well, ya better start makin’ up for that now.”
In all of two seconds, Nanami’s hooking two fingers over your underwear - pulling - ripping. He was right - Nanami takes a moment to admire your dripping cunt, glistening and needy for him - he could rip those panties right off of you.
With just one hand pinning you to the cool marble of your counter, the other thumbing open your puffy folds, he’s giving all of your pussy a hot, open-mouthed kiss.
“Mmm fuck-” he spits into your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Letting it form a saturated little pool of your juices, before surging back nose-deep with a pained grunt. Again. And again. And again and again- “Jus’ as sweet- as sugary sweet ngh-”
Nanami didn’t think Higuruma knew about this little treasure trove when describing you - though, if he did, then he was well and fully intent on tongue-fucking every little thought out of him right now.
“Hngh! Shit-” you’re keening when his greedy tongue laps up every bit of your syrupy sweet slick. Alternating - methodically, indecisively - between rolling over your throbbing clit and just dipping into your awaiting entrance. “It feels so- so good, Ken.”
“Yeah that’s right.” he gasps, wrapping those pretty pink lips of his to suck on your clit. Harsh. “Say my name- no, louder. Louder.”
It’s all you can do to not just scream out his name without your neighbors filing a noise complaint. Dragging your sopping pussy all over his mouth - glistening and obscene right down the bottom half of his face all the way up to smear against his clear glasses.
Such obscene squelches ring through your kitchen as Nanami keeps making out so messily with your sensitive nub. Ringing in your fucked-out brain, so obscene, so addictive that you barely even register the thick fingers dipping their way around your hole.
You jolt when the cool metal of his glasses kiss your skin, “O-oh Ken what-”
“Shhh shhh, darling.” he soothes. The tip of his manicured index circling around your elastic muscle. Hypnotic. “M’gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good-” With this, he’s bullying his fingers inside, “-care of you.”
Tears crinkle at the corners of your eyes at the sheer stimulation. Because for how sweet Nanami was talking you through this, he was absolutely ruthless on your cunt. Not half the man he was this morning - animalistic. Feral, even.
His sharp jaw grinding against your skin, fingers almost a blur with how depraved they were pumping in and out of you. Massaging every hidden corner of your plushy walls, yet you get the feeling that they were calculated. Nanami’s darkened eyes drinking in every whimper and twitch of your body over the glasses inching dangerously downwards. Searching, waiting for that one-
“Ngh!” You worry you’d have fallen off the counter if it wasn’t for Nanami holding you down. Body jolting at sudden electricity running through your veins, “Oh- fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god Ken, there. Right there–”
But before the sentence has even left your heavy lips, he’s hitting your g-spot once more. Easily finding the bullseye that has you bucking and arching into his mouth like such a slut.
And this time - Nanami lets you use his mouth all you want. The fingers splayed out to pin you down moves to toy with your puffy clit. Rolling between his fingers while he hisses out syrupy sweet praises, “Shit, never liked m’name that much- ngh- but it sounds so pretty on your lips. So sweet. So- oh-”
The sight of your cunt just beading with need has him kissing it once more. All over your sensitive nub, your ravaged hole, hell, even down to the mess of slick dripping down at your thighs. Faster. Sloppier. No rhythm or rhyme anymore.
“M’so close.” you whine, weaving your fingers through his blond hair to help ride his face easier. Jolting with each purposeful flick of his tongue. “Gonna cum, Ken.”
“Cum then.” he answers, simply, grinning a guiltily glossy grin, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, right?”
And then you do - stars behind your eyes and that little nickname you’d made Nanami in your mouth. Over and over while he tonguefucks you through your high.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” you whine, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks eat time he swiped at your sensitive spots, dragging it out longer. Until your soft whimpers were drowning out the squelches from below. Until you were blinking your spotty vision back. Until you were squirming your hips higher up the counter to pull away from Nanami’s unforgiving tactics. “M’too sensitive- Nana-”
He tuts, interrupting your orgasm-drunk babbles, “Tha’s not what you call me.” Pulling away just enough to hum, “All I did was eat this pretty cunt out, darling n’ you already forgot my name?”
You shiver - both at his mean little tone and the absolutely sinful sight between your shaky thighs. Nanami’s lips plump and irritated, eyes foggy - glasses even more so with all the sloppy dredges of spit and your slick.
Shit, you think he’s never looked prettier.
“Is that so?”
It’s all you hear before you’re hit with his glasses being gently placed onto your nose bridge - followed shortly by the realization that oh, you said that out loud. But Nanami basks in your sudden shyness, giving your lips a chaste, lingering peck. “You dirtied my glasses, y’know. Now you have to make up for that on top of the rent.”
And by the feeling of his thick tip kissing at your pussy lips, you had a very good idea about how you’d be making up for it. Making a mess. Sliding the curve of his head up and down. Up and down up and down up and-
“B-but don’t forget.” you manage to grit out by the time he’s nudging his divot against your clit. “You have to make- hah- make up for-”
In a fluid motion, you’re reaching your fingers to dig into the irresistible tan skin at his hips, all hard muscle and the thick fabric of where he’d pulled his pants down just enough. You press down on his bulging back pocket, smirk growing at the familiar flash of hot pink you could spy, “-my panties.”
The moment the obscene little accusation leaves your lips, you give a soft tug forwards. Nanami’s towering body being pulled easily to push his weeping tip past your puffy folds.
“F-fuck.” he’s throwing his head back at the feeling. “You hngh- saw, huh?”
Oh, if he hadn’t been imagining this the moment he’d stepped inside your apartment then Nanami thinks he might’ve just passed out right then and there.
Because you were so warm, so addictive wrapped around his cock - even when he’s barely even in. That he just has to keep going - after all, it’s for the rent, right?
It’s what he likes to think.
It’s what he whispers - over and over into your open mouth as he bullies his thick cock past your gummy entrance. Letting your plush walls suck the ever-loving soul out of him with each lazy, lingering grind just to fit himself inside.
“O-oh! Shit-” your nails leave jagged red marks down Nanami’s broad shoulders when he stuffs you full. Desperate. “Y-you’re so big, Ken–”
At this, you feel Nanami’s girth grow even wider, stretching your walls until it felt like he was molding your poor pussy to the shape. Just reaching into your lungs. You squeal, “Wait- you got bigger- what-”
“I know I know, You got it, my love.” he’s soothing your cries with sugary kisses at the corners of your mouth. Drawing slow, methodical circles on your clit in time with his experimental thrusts. “You got it. You can take it. Shhh shh-” He’s drinking in your cute mewls, cupping your pretty face with his free hand, “You’ll take it right? All of it, like my good girl? You’ve gotta make up for it, right?” At your delirious nod, “Words, pretty.”
“Yes, please.” You buck your hips in a sultry tandem matching his, the cool frame of his glasses still kissing at your skin. “M’gonna take it all like your good girl, Ken.”
Shit, he can feel himself growing even bigger just halfway into you, “Then-” Angling your teary face down to watch the mess down below. The way your greedy cunt was trying to milk each and every inch of him like it was delicious. “-look.”
You can’t tear your eyes away as he delves into you so filthy.
Not waiting for your pathetic whines about him being “too big” - no, Nanami’s only pulling you back from escaping like some sextoy - his favorite one. Still toying sweetly with your clit while he pushes against that feeble ring of resistance. Once. Twice. Thrice.
“Ken!” you’re yelping out when he finally bottoms out. Your swollen folds meeting his drenched hilt, blond tufts of hair brushing up against your pelvis. Sighing, ”Finally.”
“Finally?” he’s dragging out his words with an already-crooked, pussydrunk grin. Eyes wild - bewildered almost at how well you were taking him. “S-seriously? Did you say ngh- ‘finally’, my girl?” Each word has him tapping more strength behind those thrusts, faster. Harder. Spitting out so contendly, “Finally- hah. Such a slut f’me, hm?”
He’s plunging into you like such an animal right now, so harsh that it was almost difficult to pull back. To dare subject himself to not be buried inside your dripping cunt for even a split-second.
In response, you lick a long stripe up the sensitive area of his neck, splaying out a hand to squeeze Nanami’s pec - and the rapid heartbeat you felt beneath it. “You’re not- ngh- any better.”
“I know.” Nanami leers, unabashedly kneading at your sore tits now. Fucking you harder and harder into the counter. Connecting his sweaty forehead with yours to look you right in the eyes as he gruffs, “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pretty cunt as soon as you opened that door, y’know.”
You feel his cock twitch wildly at the confession, dragging against your gummy walls with his tip. Hitting - oh-so-expertly - that one sensitive honeypot of nerves. Which makes Nanami’s mouth fall slack with what a treasure you were.
“Y-you’re such a-” you’re moans are syrupy and slurring together now. Holding onto the larger man for dear life, “such a pervert, Ken.”
Shit, you were squeezing around him so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out. Abs straining to keep up the loud staccato of skin-against-skin, and Nanami’s long, jagged rams inside your wet heaven.
Nanami’s nosing down your pulse, letting his hot tongue loll out to catch the salty drops of your tears, “Mhm, only for hngh- you. Because you’re my girl now, aren’t ya?”
So easy for him to trawl out those addictive moans with each drag of the upwards curve of his fat cock. Thick tip hitting your g-spot, your cervix - as if he was branding his name into your pretty pussy from the inside. Sloppy.
Leaving a bruising little Kento. With his erratic fingers pinching and rolling your clit at the same feverish tempo of his cock bullying inside your cunt - Kento. With his heavy balls smacking against your ass, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure all the way up to his sensitive slit, rubbing up against your succubus walls - Kento. With the way your heels were now digging into those dimples at the bottom of his spine, sure to leave marks with the way you were pulling him impossibly closer. So needy - Kento.
Only getting sloppier. The only thing in your mind right now - Kento Kento Kento-
So, really, it makes sense when that’s the only thing you’re capable of getting out once you cum. It sneaks up on you at first, and then all at once - and before you know it, you’re cumming so desperately all over Nanami’s relentless cock.
Over and over.
Your thighs spasming, such a slutty ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth with each wave of pleasure he’s forcing out of you by targeting your ravaged g-spot. Only a few more of those sloppy, mean thrusts left in the man himself before Nanami’s spilling into your greedy cunt.
Painting your gummy walls white with each painful squeeze of his balls, he’s still thrusting - as if on instinct. Shoving his seed deeper and deeper down your cum-filled hole until he’s sure it’s overfilled.
By god were you a vision, he’s thinking deliriously. Tears pooling at your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, throat to shoot to do anything but whimper when he keeps going in and out in and out in and-
And if he angled his head just right, he could see the hot globs of cum that take to trickling out from your puffy folds, pooling at a mouthwateringly creamy base around his hilt.
“Ah,” Nanami wastes no time squeezing his index into your already-bulging entrance, pumping the cum slobbering out back in. “Better- hah- better not waste any-” He could barely speak right now, cumming harder than he has in his whole life - in fact, his overworked cock was still shooting out wispy spurts of his seed. Like he couldn’t stop. “-after all, y’haven’t made up for all the overdue rent yet, my love.”
A/N. Concept inspired by this NSFW audio by IchigekiVA that my friend sent me <3
Summary: You are a senior editor trying to ignore the rising tension with your younger, arrogant junior editor until a charged Christmas party and one overdue conversation unravel everything you’ve been too anxious to feel.
Pairing: Tyriq Withers x Black Fem!reader
Warnings: smutty smut, explicit language, modern au, workplace romance, age gap (29F + 24M), power dynamic, mutual pining, jealousy, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, virgin!reader, cocky!Tyriq,
Word count: 10.5k (holy shit I got carried away lmaooo)
Part two
For contest winner @tammensah 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
Work distractions were not to be tolerated in the editorial department of a national magazine where everything happened so fast and deadlines always were changing. You sat tucked behind your glass desk in perfect posture, with your slender figure snugly wrapped in a fitted cream-colored turtleneck and a pair of high-waisted trousers that had an intimate knowledge of your body.
Your skin was as smooth as silk, rich and deep brown like freshly brewed chicory coffee, and it glowed softly underneath the office's lighting. Your long curly hair was pinned into an elegant bun; however, a few of the curls fell out and brushed against your cheekbone.
You were known for being serious and very focused; your peers respected the fact you were untouchable.
For this very reason, the universe decided you and Tyriq should cross paths.
He appeared in your doorway like he owned it—six-foot-plus of laid-back arrogance, smile too pretty for someone who hadn’t earned it yet. His skin was a warm light tan, sun-kissed and smooth, and the fitted black sweater he wore clung to him like it was impressed.
“Good morning, boss,” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. You did your best to ignore how his biceps were popping out, his sharp jawline, and how his dimples looked cocky and unbothered.
You kept your eyes glued on your laptop. “Morning, Tyriq.”
“You look nice today,” he said. No hesitation or shame, just straight-up fact. “Like…ridiculously nice. Distractingly nice.”
Your eyes flicked up, then became sharp, conveying a warning. “That’s inappropriate workplace language.”
He grinned, completely unbothered. “I said it respectfully.”
“You did not.”
“I thought it was really respectful, though.”
You blinked once, patience wearing thin. “Tyriq. Do you need something?”
He pushed off the doorway and walked toward your desk, that confident stroll that told the whole floor he’d never been told no in his life. With his fingers purposefully brushing against yours, he placed a stack of drafts on your desk—far too close, always too close.
Tyriq wore a cologne that had warm notes of sandalwood and subtle citrus—fresh, masculine, and impossible not to notice.
“Edited the feature you assigned,” he said, voice softer now, meant only for you. “Thought you might wanna look it over…when you done lookin’ so gorgeous.”
Your jaw tightened the slightest bit, but he caught it. Of course he did. He watched you like it was a paid sport.
“Tyriq,” you exhaled sharply, “stop it with the flirting.”
He tilted his head, fern eyes roaming your captivating face like he was memorizing it. “I’ll stop when you finally admit you like it.”
As usual, you didn’t take the bait. You never did. Your way of dealing with Tyriq’s boldness was by remaining silent and professional. Still, despite your best efforts to be distant, the spark between the two of you was palpable and lingered like static electricity in the air.
The tall man took a step back, hands sliding into his pockets, dimples deepening. “Meeting in ten, right? I’ll save you a seat.”
And with that, he swaggered out of your office, knowing damn well your eyes followed his retreating back even though you refused to turn your head.
You couldn’t go there for several reasons. Tyriq Withers was twenty-four, brilliant, arrogant, infuriatingly fine and absolutely, unequivocally not your business. You recently turned twenty-nine, plus you were his boss. Even though the magazine didn't have a non-fraternization policy, you just knew it wouldn't end well. You had to remind yourself of that every day, and by late afternoon, it got harder.
The conference room was already half full by the time you walked in. Graphic designers were discussing print layouts, marketing interns were scrambling with their overpriced tablets, and the Editor-in-Chief flipped through laminated slides as the fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
You spotted Tyriq immediately. He had claimed a spot near the middle of the long table, arm draped over the back of the empty chair beside him. Silently daring anyone that wasn’t you to take a seat in your chair.
He didn’t acknowledge you at first, at least not verbally; however, the sly smile creeping across his face revealed everything you knew he was thinking.
You cleared your throat and walked toward the opposite side of the table. Tyriq shook his head immediately, firm but subtle enough for only you to notice.
He pulled the empty chair out like a dare. “Seat’s warm for you."
Your heels clicked against the floor as your pulse spiked, and you were relieved that he couldn’t notice your racing heart as you approached, since you didn’t have time to be distracted by his nonsense.
You sat down next to him because it was efficient and logical, not because the proximity did something to you. No one needed to know that sitting next to him felt like being enveloped in a warm hug. You weren’t ready to admit the truth about the way he made you feel.
Especially to him. No way in hell.
You crossed your legs, organized your notes and continued looking straight ahead.
Tyriq chuckled softly to himself as he discreetly scooted his chair closer to you.
You didn’t look at him, but you could feel him. The warmth of his body radiating through that form-fitting sweater, his cologne drifting over with his exhale. Every time he shifted, your elbows almost brushed.
Almost, and you hated how much you craved the touch.
“Good morning, everyone,” Kyle, the Editor-in-Chief began. “I don’t plan on keeping you away from your work for too long, so let’s jump right on in.”
You nodded professionally, eyes focusing on the screen.
Tyriq leaned closer, his voice a whisper against your ear. “You know you can just say you like sittin’ next to me.”
Your breath hitched the tiniest bit—the stupidest betrayal. “That is not—”
“Mmhmm,” he hummed, eyes on the presentation, feigning innocence. “Next time you can take a seat right on my lap, boss.”
It took everything in your power not to respond, but your thighs did clench involuntarily.
During the slideshow, every time you reached for your pen or adjusted your notes, his hand was nearby. Every time he took notes, he glanced at your reactions. When Rachel, an enthusiastic advertising intern, cracked a joke across the room, you let out a soft giggle, and he looked at you like it was the highlight of his morning.
For the most part, you kept your expression neutral, but when Tyriq casually stretched his arm behind your chair—not touching you, but close—you felt your shoulders relax in a way that annoyed the hell out of you because you had to acknowledge the irritating truth. You did enjoy the young man’s presence. You did feel calmer with him near, and you did enjoy the attention way more than you had any right to. You just weren’t going to let him know that….at least not yet.
At the end of the meeting, as people pushed out their chairs and started gathering their things, Tyriq leaned in one last time, lips close enough to brush your cheek if he turned just an inch. You barely registered the marketing executive mention tomorrow’s Christmas party.
“Same seat next time?” he questioned.
You stood abruptly, smoothing your top. “I sit wherever the agenda requires.”
“Yeah,” he tittered, unable to hide the satisfied smirk. “I’m tryna be the agenda.”
As soon as he finished that suggestive sentence, you bolted out of the room, fighting off a smile.
The office settled down after lunch. The modern building was filled with that all-too-familiar soft lull, where half the staff stifled yawns while the other half speed-typed as if their salaries depended on it.
You sat at your desk, engrossed in the revision of a feature article, trying to ignore the warm echo of sitting next to Tyriq in this morning’s meeting. You were focused and determined, back in your zone. Completely locked in…until you weren’t.
In your peripheral vision, Tyriq stepped out of his cubicle. Every bit of tall and handsome, tan skin glowing under the afternoon sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His sweater had been swapped for a fitted white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The veins were more distracting than the gleaming Breitling on his left wrist. He ran a hand over his low top fade casually, obviously in deep thought about something.
You told yourself you were just taking a quick break from the glowing screens. Just a harmless five-second glance to reset your brain. Except it wasn’t a glance; it was a stare. Damn near a full-blown gawk.
You watched the way his shirt pulled across his back, the way his jaw flexed when he laughed at something an advertising intern said, and the way his lips parted slightly as he typed something out on his phone.
Your stomach fluttered and your thighs pressed together, resolve crumbling slightly. It seemed as though your mind over matter mantra wasn’t cutting it today. You did not want to want him like this, but you were growing tired of fighting it.
Of course, that’s when he turned around slowly, like he sensed your gaze and had been waiting to catch you slipping.
His eyes met yours from across the floor, and you froze like a deer caught in headlights.
Tyriq’s brows lifted just enough to say, oh word? Then the corner of his mouth curled into a subtle, devastating smirk.
Like he had just found out he was the winner of the mega millions lottery, he strolled to you with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants and dimples so deep they could compete with the depths of the Pacific.
He sauntered toward you like a man who already knew he owned the moment. You snapped your attention back to the monitors, typing nonsense in OneNote just to look busy, pretending not to notice his presence as he leaned against the doorway.
“Enjoyin’ the view, Y/N?” he asked softly.
You didn’t look up. “What view?”
“Oh, the one you were just studying like it was part of next week’s issue.”
“I was not—”
“Mmhmm,” he teased, stepping closer. “You looked real focused, though.”
You swallowed hard. “Tyriq, if you don’t have important work-related business—”
“Oh, this is extremely important.”
Despite your better judgment, you glanced up into his eyes. They were even warmer than his prescience. Too all-knowing. His green irises locked onto your brown ones like you were the sun and he was orbiting willingly. Second- and third-degree burns be damned.
“What do you want? ” you probed, barely keeping your voice steady.
“I want you.” He admitted. That playful glint in his eyes was long gone, and his tone was the most serious it’s ever been.
“Please be serious, Mr. Withers.”
You knew he was telling the truth, but you were too anxious to speak your mind. He sensed it, too, and shrugged lightly, placing a hand on the edge of your desk to pull his torso closer.
“Just wanted you to know,” he murmured, voice dropping lower, “if you gonna stare at me like that, you might wanna be slicker.”
Your face warmed, and you were grateful to every god known and unknown to man that your complexion didn’t allow others to see you blush.
“Tyriq,” you grumbled in warning.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Get back to work.”
He grinned, tongue pressing against his cheek. “You sure I can’t just finish the last two hours of my shift right here?”
You bit down on your tongue as hard as you could without drawing blood.
“Alright, alright, I’m going. For now…,” he echoed, the tease dripping off the words, but before he walked away, he leaned close enough that you caught another whiff of his cologne, enough to make your breath still.
“And by the way,” he prattled, “I know you want me as much as I want you.”
After that, he just walked away, leaving you to blink at your computer screen as your heart performed inverted cartwheels.
~~~
The hotel's ballroom was filled with golden lights and soft jazz music, making it one of those fancy Christmas parties that you always see in magazines put on by someone who is way too rich and completely clueless. The staff mingled in sequins and tailored suits, champagne flutes catching the sparkle of oversized ornaments.
From the moment that you stepped foot inside, you could feel every head swivel in order to gawk at you.
For once, you weren’t in your typical pants or skirt suit. You wore a deep emerald dress that hugged your slim frame like it was hand-stitched onto your body. Your dark skin glowed rich and warm against the color, your long kinky hair styled down in a soft, stretched twist-out that framed your face like a painting. You never dressed for attention, but it seemed to find you regardless.
Tyriq froze mid-sentence when you walked in. He was in a black turtleneck and tailored slacks, with a fresh fade and heavy cologne. His eyes traveled your body, greedily, like he’d been starving for months and someone finally unlocked the feast.
You tried to ignore his gaze no matter how heavy it felt. You found the chief editor across the hall and accepted the drink he handed you. It was a white cranberry cosmo. It was strong and tasty. Just what you needed to make it through tonight.
A group of department heads joined you, and you laughed politely at their corny-ass jokes. You were hellbent on aiming your attention everywhere but where you felt it dragging.
The pull from across the room where the junior editor stood was deafening. Louder than Wham’s Last Christmas blaring through the speakers, that’s for sure.
Tyriq didn’t look away once since you walked in. Every time you glanced up, no matter where he stood, he was staring at you. Jaw tight, hands in pockets like if he touched something he’d break it because tonight he probably would. He refused to pretend that he didn’t want you, and he was tired of you pretending that you didn’t feel the same way.
Forty-five minutes into the party, you were brainstorming print schedules with a colleague when you felt that warm pressure of someone walking up behind you. They were too close and too warm, and you didn’t even have to turn around because you knew that presence all too well.
Still, you turned around anyway and looked up at Tyriq. His eyes already locked in on your face, looking dangerous in that enticingly arrogant way only young men with too much confidence could manage.
“You look…” He exhaled sharply, bright eyes raking your figure up and down. “Goddamn.”
“Tyriq,” you inhaled softly, fighting the blush.
“That all you got for me?” he asked, stepping closer. “You show up lookin’ like this, and all you can say is my name?”
“Will you keep your voice down?” you whispered even though the colleague you were chatting with had been pulled away by an advertising executive half a minute ago.
“I would,” he sighed, leaning in, lips brushing your ear, “If my manager didn’t show up looking exactly like my Christmas wish list.”
You tried to hide your grin by clearing your throat. “Tyriq—”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were wearing this?” He questioned, his gaze fixed on your painted mouth. “I would’ve prepared.”
“Prepared for what, exactly? It’s a dress.”
He let out a disbelieving chuckle. “You know how long you’ve had me losing my mind? And then you walk in like that?”
You shook your head. “Stop.”
His expression shifted, frustration tightening his jaw enough for you to feel the temperature change.
“For real?” he asked softly. “You still gonna pretend you not feelin’ me?”
Your pulse throbbed under your flushed skin, not from fear, but from the truth you refused to admit.
You stepped back, desperately creating distance. “You can’t speak to me that way, Mr. Withers.”
Tyriq blinked once as something inside him finally snapped.
“Alright, Y/N,” he exhaled sharply. “I’m done pretending.”
Before the rebuttal could slip past your glossy lips, he grabbed your hand. Not rough but firm, silently letting you know he was done being dismissed.
“Tyriq, what are you—”
“We leaving,” he said, jaw set. “We talking and this time, you gonna listen.”
You tried to pull your hand back out of prideful instinct, but his grip tightened gently, not enough to hurt, just enough to tell you he wasn’t letting you run away from him this time.
“Tyriq—” you hissed, eyes wide as you scanned the room for judgmental stares, but almost everyone was drunk or two-stepping on the dance floor. Nobody was paying attention to the two of you, but that barely eased your nerves.
“We leaving,” he repeated, voice low and steady. “We not doing this dance in front of the whole company.”
“Tyriq, I am not—”
He paused and looked you dead in the eyes. “Ain’t no way,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I’m letting you walk around sabotaging what we can have because of this whole ‘I don’t date younger men’ act when I’ve been killin’ myself wanting you.”
You froze, breath trapped somewhere between your second and third rib. For once he wasn’t flirting or joking. That arrogance that always seemed to reveal itself was nowhere to be found. The younger man was done playing games.
“Let’s go,” he said, voice softer now, almost pleading.
The smoke machine blurred behind him, and the music faded into static. You should have said no. You should have told him to stop, and you should have walked back into the party, but you didn’t. You couldn’t move at all. You just stood there processing his words. The little resolve you had was pretty much nonexistent at this point.
Your heels clicked beside his as he led you through the ballroom doors into the quiet hallway, decorated with garlands and soft golden lights.
Your heart rate spiked when your eyes fell on your hand in his. Your anxiousness returned for a moment. “Tyriq, this is inappropriate—”
“What, us talking?” he shot back. “Or you still acting like you don’t have feelings for me?”
You swallowed hard, unable to come up with a clever remark. Tyriq was surprised by how much louder your silence was than your protests. He pressed the elevator button, jaw flexing as he tried to keep it together.
You let go of his hand, immediately missing the warmth, and folded your arms, trying to look unaffected, but you were breathing too fast, chest rising and falling in shaky, shallow pulls.
The elevator dinged and held the door open.
“Y/N…come on,” he beckoned softly. “Just get in.”
Your feet stayed rooted to the floor for two seconds too long, then a shaky, defeated breath slipped out of you, and you stepped onto the elevator. Tyriq followed, and the doors slid closed. The hum of the elevator descending filled the small space. The silence was as thick as maple syrup. You stared at the glowing floor numbers, and he stared at you. The tension was building as words went unspoken.
“You’re mad,” you accused without looking at him.
He let out a dry laugh. “Nah, I’m done.”
You immediately turned your head toward him, confusion painted on your face. "What do you mean, you done?"
“Done letting you act like you don’t feel what’s happening every damn day we work together.” His voice was quiet but sharp. “Done lettin’ you shut me down because your ex hurt you.”
You didn’t mean to flinch, but he noticed your reaction when he mentioned your ex-boyfriend.
“Y/N…I’m not him.” His expression softened, and the firmness of his tone eased the tiniest bit. “I don’t need to lose you to recognize how brilliant you are. I see you shine every single day. I'm tired of only getting to see you at work.“
Before you had a chance to respond, the elevator arrived at the ground floor and the doors slid open with a whisper. He stepped out first, then turned, offering his hand again. You didn’t even bother fighting it this time and placed your hand in his.
You let him lead you to the valet podium, your hand still in his, jaw tightening as you tried to regain control. The valet recognized him instantly and jogged off to retrieve his car.
“Tyriq…” you began as you searched his face, tone hushed. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to stop thinkin’ and just feel,” he corrected gently. “I got us tonight.”
Seconds later, a sleek, black Acura TLX in pristine condition rolled up, city lights sliding across its polished surface.
He opened the passenger door for you, a smile matching the softness in his eyes. “Y/N…get in the car.”
You raised an eyebrow, silently telling him to watch his tone.
“Please,” he added, chuckling quietly.
After a brief pause you climbed into the vehicle, and Tyriq softly closed the door as he went around to the driver’s side and slid in as well, taking a deep breath that sounded like a mixture of shock and relief.
Once he pulled onto the street, the fluttering in your stomach returned. Your fingers were knotted in your lap, and his grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles pale against his skin. You couldn’t tell who was more anxious at the moment.
After a long beat, he stated. “I know you gonna make it seem like the end of the world, but I’m runnin' shit tonight.”
You blinked, completely caught off guard.
“You’re my boss,” he continued, voice steady and low. “I respect that. Hell, I enjoy it way more than I probably should…but outside of work I’m takin' care of you. You can relax. You’ll always be safe with me.”
You took a deep breath through your nose and crossed your legs, thighs clenching tight.
“I know I’m five years younger than you, and I tease you a lot, but I’m serious about this. About you. Us.”
You stared out the window, city lights reflecting across your deep brown skin. You felt every word, and the goosebumps scattered along your skin were enough to know your body agreed. All you could do was let out a breathless “…Okay.”
Tyriq relaxed just enough for his shoulders to drop.
He turned into an underground garage beneath a luxury downtown building. It was sleek and upscale.
Your eyes widened in surprise, instantly impressed. “You…live here?”
He smirked, cutting the engine. “Yeah. I told you I’m more than the arrogant young man you think I am.”
You were speechless. You realized that you had completely underestimated him.
He stepped out of the car, went around to the passenger side, and opened your door. “Come upstairs.”
You nodded nervously and followed him into the private elevator that lifted you straight to his condo. Tyriq unlocked his front door, pushed it open, and stepped aside for you to enter. You hesitated on the threshold for half a second, not due to fear, but because walking into his space felt far too intimate for someone you had spent months pretending you didn’t want.
You stepped across, and the beauty of his place made you gasp in disbelief. It was modern and surprisingly warm. It felt very homey. Nothing like the bachelor chaos you expected from a 24-year-old man.
Soft recessed lighting glowed along the ceiling, bouncing off warm tan walls and polished concrete floors. A massive charcoal-gray sectional sat in the middle of the living room atop a textured rug. His kitchen gleamed with black marble countertops and matte cabinets with brushed-gold hardware. He had healthy plants lined up by the windowsill.
Your brows lifted before you could stop them. “This is…nice as hell.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, locking the door behind you.
You took a few curious steps further inside.
A tall bookcase filled with novels and photography books stood against one wall. A record player sat beside a neat stack of vinyls. Mostly old R&B and neo-soul. A salted caramel candle burned softly on the counter that subtly wrapped around you like a hug.
There was nothing immature or reckless about this place. Everything screamed grown man.
“Didn’t expect this?” he asked from behind you.
“Well…” You crossed your arms, cheeks warming. “It’s not like I had expectations.”
He raised a brow, smirking. “So you never thought about what my place looked like…?”
You rolled her eyes, but your lips twitched. You definitely daydreamed about his place once or twice.
He walked past you toward the kitchen, pulling off his coat and tossing it neatly over a chair. His white turtleneck fit him too well, hugging every line of his frame.
“Wine?” he offered.
“No,” you answered quickly. “I’m here to talk.”
“Cool,” he replied while effortlessly pouring himself a glass of water. “Let’s talk.”
You hated how calm and collected he looked. You were screaming internally even though you felt so comfortable in his space already.
You walked deeper into the condo, looking anywhere but at him. “You really live here all by yourself?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Got this place last year. Saved up. Signed early.”
“That’s…impressive,” you admitted, your voice gentler than intended.
His eyes softened. “Y/N, you always act like I’m a kid.”
“You’re twenty-four.”
“And a grown-ass man,” he countered, stepping closer. “A disciplined one. Focused. I didn’t get this place by fucking around.”
You looked away again, partly because you believed him and partly because it scared you how convincing he was.
Tyriq watched you walk toward the far wall. He watched you take in the giant windows, the city stretching out behind you like a glittering ocean.
“Come here,” he motioned.
“Why?”
“Cause there’s something I want to show you.”
You turned cautiously, curls shifting over your shoulders. “What?”
He nodded toward the wall behind you. The one you walked right past. “Look.”
You frowned and turned. It was a gallery wall full of framed magazine covers that must have been his favorites. Your pulse thumped harder when your eyes landed on the two issues with your name on the mastheads.
You edited more issues than you could count, but these were the ones you poured yourself into the most. Your best work…right there on his wall. In the privacy of his home. Your breath caught as your chest tightened and your hands trembled before you could play it off. You stepped closer slowly, almost afraid to touch the frames.
“Tyriq…” you whispered incredulously. “You have—how—why are mine up here?”
He leaned against the counter, watching you with the softest eyes you’d ever seen on him.
“Because,” he confessed, “You’re the editor who made me fall in love with this job.”
You couldn’t speak or move, completely at a loss for words. Too many thoughts spiraling inside your head, making you overwhelmed.
“Y/N…” He stepped toward you cautiously, tone sincere. “You’re the reason I’m here. I’ve been studying your work since college. You don’t even know how many times I reread these issues.”
Your throat tightened. “No one’s ever—”
“Because no one sees you the way I do.”
You turned toward him then, shaken. “Tyriq…”
The air between you became heavy and charged.
You stood there in front of those framed issues like they were mirrors you never asked to look into. Your breath trembled in your chest, hands fidgeting even though you tried to hide it. You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to see this. You weren’t supposed to KNOW. Because knowing meant you couldn’t lie to him or yourself anymore.
Your voice came out small as you whispered. “Tyriq…this…this is too much.”
He stepped closer, slow and careful, like he was approaching something sacred. “I didn’t put these up to pressure you,” he admitted softly. “I put them up because you inspire me.”
Your chest tightened painfully. “No,” you exhaled sharply, fighting down the panic, backing up half a step, palms out slightly. “No, Tyriq…this isn’t—I didn’t think—”
He frowned, confusion crossing his features. “You didn’t think what?”
“That you actually felt this way,” you snapped. Not because you were angry with him, but angry at yourself, your own unraveling. “I thought you were just…playing. Fuckin’ around. Teasing me.”
“Fuckin’ around?” he echoed, hurt flashing in his eyes for the first time.
You ran a shaky hand through your coils, pacing once, twice. “This is why I didn’t want this,” you whispered harshly. “Why, I never encouraged it. Because I can’t do casual.”
He blinked. “Who said anything about casual?”
You let out a breath that cracked halfway through. “Tyriq, you’re twenty-four,” you enunciated. “A whole five years younger than me. Plus, I’m your senior editor. And I—I’ve been through things you don’t know about. I got my heart broken in ways you haven’t lived long enough to understand yet. I can’t be with another man who only sees me as arm candy.”
His jaw tightened in offense. “That what you think I want?” he shook his head in disbelief. “To hit it and quit it?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted, voice trembling. “Probably because I don’t trust myself to read anyone right anymore and I can’t just—I can’t risk—”
You stopped because you couldn’t find the words, and your vision began to blur a little. You looked away in embarrassment and inhaled sharply, like you could will the panic out of your lungs.
He took a single step toward you. “Y/N,” he muttered, voice low and grounding, “Look at me.”
You didn't move. You couldn’t face him right now.
“Y/N,” he repeated, tone softening. “Please, baby.”
Your eyes lifted slowly, painfully, to meet his. You didn’t see the typical arrogance and playful smirk. All you saw was sincerity and heated devotion. A single look from him was all it took to stop you from spiraling and take a calming breath.
“Just cause I’m young don’t mean I’m some fuckboy,” he asserted, voice barely above a whisper. “I want you.”
You forgot how to blink.
“All of you,” he stressed as he shook his head. "Not tonight. Not for a week. Not until I get bored.” He took another step toward you. “I want you tomorrow. Next month. Next year. I want you when we're grey and complaining about high cholesterol.”
Your bottom lip twitched in amusement. “Tyriq—”
“—And it’s okay if you scared,” he added softly. “I get it.” He moved close enough for you to feel his warmth soak into your skin. “But don’t twist what I feel into something small just because it scares you.”
“It’s not that simple,” you whispered.
“It is,” he countered, stepping close enough that your back almost brushed the wall. “You makin’ it complicated because you’re afraid to let yourself want me back.”
You froze because that was the line. That was the truth you’d been running from the second your brown eyes locked onto his green ones.
Your eyes dropped to his chest, unable to hold his gaze, and you sighed deeply before admitting. “I didn’t think you cared.”
He lifted your chin with two fingers, so tenderly it made your knees weaken. “I’ve cared,” he confirmed, gaze locked right back on yours, “every single day.”
You shook your head, tears prickling your eyes. This all seemed too good to be true. “Tyriq, I don’t know how to do this.”
“Yes, you do,” he said, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone in the softest touch you’d felt in years. “You let me cherish you.”
Your breath trembled, and the anxiety-filled pit in your stomach eased. You lifted your hands slowly and settled your palms against his chest, freshly manicured nails curling into the fabric of his turtleneck.
He leaned in, breath warm against your lips. “Tell me to stop.”
For once, you didn’t hesitate. There was no point in fighting your feelings anymore. Not admitting how much you wanted him was no longer a priority.
“Kiss me.”
He inhaled sharply, eyes darkening, jaw clenching like he was holding back everything at once. He damn near couldn’t believe his ears. He pressed his lips to yours in a long overdue kiss. It wasn’t aggressive or rushed. It was slow and certain. Like a deal being sealed.
The second his mouth captured yours, something in you snapped. For once it wasn’t fear; it was relief. All that tension, all that restraint, all those swallowed feelings you forced down for months… rushed straight to the surface like they were clawing out of you.
You kissed him back with a hunger you forgot you had. Tyriq made a low sound in his throat, something primal and barely restrained, like he’d prayed for this exact moment and didn’t trust it was real. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer with a confidence that felt earned, not assumed.
The kiss started softly and tenderly as you were both testing each other, but the passion quickly began to boil over. He backed you up against the wall, brushing your hips, sides, and the curve of your waist like he’d memorized your shape months ago.
“You don’t know,” he groaned against your mouth, “How long I’ve wanted this.”
You didn’t answer; instead, you just pulled him closer, fingers curling into the collar of his sweater, dragging him deeper into the kiss.
He groaned again, louder this time, finally letting himself lose a little control. His tongue slid against yours, making you gasp softly at the stroke of it, and he swallowed the sound like it was the last source of oxygen. Your back bounced against the wall, his body pressing into yours, but he held your face gently. Subtly making it known you were something he respected, adored, and worshipped.
His thumbs swept across your cheeks and your jawline and down the length of each side of your neck with reverence and tenderness. Your hands moved from his collar to his chest, sliding down the rigid lines beneath the fabric.
“You taste…” he panted softly, breath hot against your lips, “…even better than I imagined.”
Your thighs clenched, and you realized your restraint was long gone. It probably evaporated the moment he touched you and you no longer cared.
“I want you,” you whispered, voice trembling but more honest than ever.
Tyriq exhaled shakily, forehead resting against hers. “Say that shit again.”
“I want you.”
His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened with heat. He kissed you again, deeper this time, guiding your chin up, tongue sliding into your mouth like he’d earned the right.
A desperate whimper escaped your lips, and that sound alone unraveled him. His hand slipped down to your thigh, lifting it around his hip. You gasped at the warm bulge pressing against you, nails digging into his shoulder.
“Let me take care of you.”
You nodded. “Yes, please.”
Tyriq lifted his head slightly, eyes blazing with desire and devotion. “I’m gonna take my time with you,” he promised, voice low enough to vibrate through you. “I’m not rushing through this.”
Then, without warning, he lifted you smoothly and confidently, big hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he carried you down the hallway toward his bedroom.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders instinctively, fingers playing with the hair at his nape as you kissed him again and again until you were breathless. You were no longer confused. You didn’t want to run anymore. You were ready, and Tyriq felt it as you surrendered in his arms.
“Good girl,” he praised against your lips, pushing his bedroom door open with his foot. “That’s all I needed.”
He sat you down on the bed gently, then sank to his knees in front of you like a man who’d waited months to worship you properly. He stayed on his knees in front of you, panting a little hard from how much he was holding back. Your dress had ridden up your thighs, the emerald fabric bunching beautifully around your hips. Your legs trembled just from the way he was looking at you. His normally bright eyes darkened with pure need, lips swollen from kissing you, and hands resting on your knees like he was praying at an altar.
“Lay back,” he commanded, voice low and gruff.
You leaned back on your elbows, curls falling around your face, chest rising in soft, shaky breaths. He slid his hands up your thighs, tan palms slowly caressing your deep brown skin like he was touching something he’d never thought he’d be allowed to have.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he admired, thumbs brushing your inner thighs. “Been dreamin’ about touchin' you like this.”
You gasped softly when he pushed your legs farther apart. He paused, looking up at you like he was memorizing every expression.
“You good?” he asked gently.
You nodded, breathless already.
“Say it.”
“I’m good, baby.”
That was all he needed to hear. He hooked his fingers in the sides of your panties, eyes never leaving yours. “Lift up for me.”
You raised your hips, and he pulled them down slowly and slipped them off your legs, dropping them beside the bed. His gaze dropped to your glistening pussy. His mouth watered at the realization he was finally going to taste what he had been dreaming about for months. He cursed lowly, breath hitching.
“Damn, boss,” he teased, mouth watering. “All that for me?”
Your thighs squeezed together instinctively, embarrassment rushing to your face.
“I’ve wanted to see this pretty pussy for so long.” Tyriq shook his head as he pushed your knees apart again. “Don’t hide from me.”
He leaned forward and placed the softest, slowest kiss on the inside of your thigh, just above the knee. A feather-light brush that made you inhale sharply. He placed another kiss, higher this time and you moaned in anticipation.
“Relax for me,” he instructed right before he licked up your slit, tongue warm and pressure soft, savoring every taste like he’d been starving for you. Your hips jerked, and he held you steady with gentle hands.
“Easy,” he cooed against you. “I got you, baby.”
He circled your clit with his tongue, each motion slow and calculated.
You gasped, head falling back against the pillows, “Yes…that—”
He smiled against you and closed his mouth around your clit, sucking gently. Your whole body tensed. You hadn’t been touched in so long you were going to come embarrassingly fast, and he felt it.
“That’s it,” he hummed, voice vibrating against you. “Let it happen, baby.”
Your orgasm built too fast; your thighs trembled as you panted harshly. “Tyriq, slow do—ohfuckohfuck—I’m—”
“Cum for me,” he growled into you. “Let go.”
You broke with a sharp cry, thighs clamping around his head. He held you there, licking you through every wave, softening his tongue only when you started to shake too hard.
He wasn’t done though. Nowhere near being satisfied. He pulled back just enough to kiss your inner thigh again, wiping his mouth lightly with the back of his hand.
“One,” he blurted.
You blinked at him, dazed. “One?"
His smug grin returned. “I said I was taking my time.”
He lowered himself again, this time tugging your clit gently, tongue pressing in insistent strokes. Your eyes rolled back as your hands grabbed at the sheets, the pillows, and then his head. “T-Tyriq—”
“That’s it,” his encouragements came out muffled. “Hold onto me.”
He slid two fingers into you carefully, curling them upward at the perfect angle. You came again, the second orgasm more intense than the first. Your thighs shook violently as blissful tears spilled from the corners of your eyes. He wanted to kiss them, but his lips were preoccupied.
“Two,” he counted as he eased up, kissing your knee.
You tried to close your legs, overwhelmed, but he gently pushed them apart again.
“Baby,” he whispered, looking up at you with insatiable eyes, “I’m not done.”
“Tyriq…please—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he murmured, lips brushing your swollen clit. “You’re doing so good for me…”
He sucked your clit harder this time, fingers curling deeper, and the pleasure was so sharp you choked on a sob, hands flying to your mouth to stifle the sound.
"Uh-uh," he scolded, his long arm reaching up to grab the wrist of one of your hands and pulling it away from your mouth. "I wanna hear every noise that comes outta that pretty mouth."
Your third climax ripped through you. The pleasure, unstoppable and overwhelming, tearing through you like an electric shock, jolted you into a series of spasms and left you breathless, tears rolling down your cheeks, whimpering his name. Tyriq held your thighs open, kissing you through every tremor and tear.
When your body finally slumped against the bed in total surrender, he rose and immediately wiped your tears with his thumbs. He kissed your cheek, your jaw and finally your lips. Each smooch soft and reverent.
“You were so good for me,” he praised. “So fuckin’ pretty when you cum on my face.”
You knew he meant every word.
Your dress was pushed up around your waist, curls scattered around your face, and eyes heavy with pleasure and trust.
Tyriq hovered above you, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. “You okay?”
You nodded weakly, a soft, overwhelmed hum escaping your throat.
He kissed your lips again like he wanted to bring you back into your body. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes closed, hands framing your waist.
“Y/N…” he took a deep breath. “I want you so bad it hurts.”
Your breath hitched as you felt the bulge in his slacks press against the inside of your thigh. He was hard, thick, and throbbing. He could’ve taken you already. Anyone else would’ve, but he didn’t push. He waited.
He gripped the bottom of his turtleneck, but your fingers curled into the fabric, breath trembling as your nerves returned.
“Tyriq…wait.”
“Hey.” His eyes widened in concern, stilling instantly as his green irises searched your face. “Talk to me. What is it?”
You swallowed, cheeks hot, lashes wet. “I need to tell you something.”
He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing lightly beneath your eye. “Anything.”
Your chest rose and fell in a shaky rhythm. You looked up at him and whispered. “I’ve never…done this before.”
He went rigid with disbelief. “You mean…” he exhaled sharply, like the admission knocked the wind from him.
You looked away, embarrassed. “I know it’s stupid. I know I’m too old to be—”
“Stop,” he muttered immediately, gently guiding your chin back to face him. “Don’t say that about yourself. Not to me.”
Your bottom lip trembled. “I just…I didn’t want you thinking I was inexperienced or… too much work—”
“Baby,” he sighed, shaking his head, forehead pressing into yours, “You being a virgin doesn’t change how I feel about you, and it definitely doesn’t make you a burden.”
His voice dropped lower, deeper, and softer. “It is drivin' me crazy though, I’m not gon' lie. I hope you know you never gettin' rid of me….”
Heat rushed through you, and you fought back a smirk. “I guess I didn’t tell you because…I thought you’d see me differently….my ex was weird about it.”
He kissed you again. “I do see you differently,” he grinned against your lips. “But in the best fuckin’ way.”
He exhaled sharply. “Fuck…I’m honored you’d even let me be the one.” Then he pulled back, green eyes dark but tender, expression softening.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he vowed. “Tonight is all about you.”
His hand slid down to your thigh. “You ready?”
You lifted your hands to his cheeks, guiding his face back to yours.
“I’m ready,” you whispered against his soft lips. “I want you inside me.”
His eyes darkened as he barely suppressed a groan. “You sure?”
“Yes,” you promised. “I want you to be my first.”
“Then I’m going to make it perfect,” he promised. “Gonna give you all I got.”
For the first time all night, you weren’t scared. You felt safe. Safe enough to let go completely and safe enough to let him in.
Tyriq hovered over you for a moment, just taking in your beauty. The way your curls spread across his pillows, your kiss-swollen lips, and the way your skin glowed under the soft gold of his bedroom lamp. He exhaled shakily, brushing a curl from your cheek.
“You still ready?”
You swallowed, nodding. “A little nervous, but yes.”
He smiled warmly at you. “I am too.”
“So you’re not—oh, I don’t know—overly confident about taking me down?”
“Oh, I’m confident,” he teased softly, kissing the corner of your mouth, “but I’m not tryna pretend I might not bust nine strokes in.”
You giggled, cheeks warming as the tension in your shoulders eased.
He kissed you again, coaxing and patient, before murmuring, “Let me undress you…slow, okay?”
You nodded, and he sat up, hands moving to your dress, fingers sliding beneath the fabric at your hips. He paused, giving you a look. “Tell me if you change your mind.”
“Okay,” you agreed.
He pulled the zipper down your back, the dress loosening around your body like it was sighing. He helped you sit up so he could slide it down your arms, kissing each shoulder as it fell. When the dress pooled at your waist, he pulled back to really look at you.
“Goddamn,” he whistled. “You deserve to be worshipped.”
You laughed softly, flustered. “Stop…”
“I can’t,” he chuckled, brushing your thigh. “You’re too beautiful.”
He eased the dress completely off you, leaving you in your bra, with six-inch heels still strapped to your feet.
He grinned when he noticed. “You leaving these on?” he asked playfully.
“I didn’t really think about—”
“Nah, leave them on,” he said quickly, pupils darkening in mischief.
You covered your face with your hands, giggling again, nervous but comfortable.
He gently moved your hands aside. “Stop hidin' from me.”
You exhaled, calmer now, letting his presence sink into you.
Then he leaned back on his knees and finally began undressing himself. He pulled off his turtleneck first, slowly, revealing light brown skin and a chest that made you inhale sharply.
“Oh,” you bit your bottom lip, shamelessly gawking at his impressive physique.
He smirked. “Oh?”
“You know what you doing…”
“Maybe,” he teased, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants and briefs down, kicking them to the side. “But your face makes it worth it.”
His dick was long and girthy, tip glistening with precome. No wonder he had a little arrogance to him.
Holy shit, he was going to split you open.
“Tyriq—”
“You like what you see?” he asked cockily, leaning forward again, lips brushing yours.
“Shut up.”
He laughed against your mouth, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as his hands gripped your waist.
“You ready to lie back?”
You nodded and reclined onto his pillows again, curls haloing around your head. He followed you down, bracing himself on his forearms, bodies aligned, warmth radiating between the two of you.
His playfulness subsided and his eyes softened when you looked up at him. “We go slow. You tell me if anything feels wrong.”
“I trust you.”
He kissed you again, lips lingering as he tasted you slowly. Your hands slid up his back, fingers tracing the lines of muscle. “Wrap your legs around me.”
You obeyed, and the warmth of your thighs around his hips made him release an unsteady groan against your neck. He reached between you, guiding his length to your dripping entrance with careful precision.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he whispered, nose brushing against yours. “I want to see that pretty face.”
You let out a shaky breath, heart racing as he eased forward just enough for you to feel him, the thick heat of his fat tip pressing against your slick slit.
“You okay?” he asked because you stopped breathing. You didn’t even notice how long you were holding your breath.
You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. “Use your words, baby.”
“I’m okay,” you assured. “Keep going.”
He exhaled, relieved. “Whatever you want.”
He kissed you again, keeping your mouth occupied as he slowly pushed deeper—half an inch…another…stopping every time your breath caught or your nails dug into his shoulders. At the slight sting, you hissed softly.
He froze instantly. “Talk to me.”
“It’s okay,” you whispered quickly. “Just…new.”
He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes soft but intense. “Breathe with me, baby,” he instructed. “In…and out…that’s it…”
You followed his pace, your chest rising and falling with his. When you relaxed beneath him, he pushed deeper, muttering praises until he finally sank all the way inside you. Your lips parted in a breathless moan, grip tightening on his shoulders as your eyes fluttered shut. “Oh…fuuuckkk…”
He groaned into your neck, voice ragged. “You squeezin’ the fuck outta me…so warm…so wet,” he breathed. “Better than all the scenarios I imagined.”
You whimpered at the praise, and he lifted your chin with gentle fingers, forcing you to face him. “Look at me.”
Your eyes opened slowly, vulnerability shining through.
“Relax,” he coaxed. “I got you. You don’t have to hide from me.”
He pulled out an inch and slid back in. “How’s that feel?”
“Good…” you whispered, voice cracking. “Really fuckin’ good.”
His expression shifted, desire mixing with awe. “That’s what I want. No pain. Just you letting me make you feel good.”
He found a slow rhythm, deep but gentle, steady and tender, his hips rolling into yours with patience instead of hunger. His hands cradled your face, brushing your cheeks, tracing your jawline like he needed to memorize all of your expressions.
Every time you gasped, he kissed you. Every time your breath trembled, he slowed down. Every time a whimper escaped your throat, he flooded you with praises.
“Mmm,” he grunted softly. “You feel so good, baby.”
Your body softened under him, tension melting away as pleasure warmed every inch of your skin. You lifted your hips slightly, trying to take more of him without thinking.
He groaned deeply in surprise. “There you go,” he rocked into you a little deeper, and you moaned into his mouth, your legs tightening around his waist in instinctive want. “Give me that pussy.”
Your bodies moved together, a one-of-a-kind rhythm only the two of you could create.
“Goddamn,” he moaned, shifting the angle of his hips slightly before setting a faster pace. “You takin’ this dick so good, baby.”
“You feel so—fuckfuckfuck—Tyriq pleaseee!”
“Please what?”
“I—“
“What you want from me, hmm?”
You couldn’t even respond. The choked-off sobs and the squelching sounds of your pussy getting wetter and wetter were answer enough. He was fucking you so good, too good. You felt dizzy, and you had the overwhelming urge to giggle like a madwoman. You didn’t expect your first time to be this pleasurable, this fulfilling.
His hand slid up your body, squeezing your breast while the other bounced freely. The heightened intensity of the pleasure washed over you until it was all you could feel pulsing through your veins. He was fucking you so good. Your thighs began to quiver, and your moans boomed as another orgasm approached.
“Fuuck,” you gasped sharply. “Tyriq, please don’t stop.”
“I’m not stoppin’, baby. You feel how deep I am?”
“Yessss!” you cried out, squeezing your legs around him and holding onto his shoulders as he fucked you fast and deep. “Ty—shitshitshit—I’m gonna cum,” you breathed shakily, toes curling as your eyes snapped shut.
“Mmhmm, I feel it,” he grunted loudly, restraint slipping as he felt your walls contract around him. “Cum all over this dick.”
Your orgasm ripped through you, and your mouth fell open in a loud scream. This one was more intense than the first three. Your head was spinning so fast you had to close your eyes for a few seconds.
The moment you came down from that blissful first time high you surprised yourself by laughing softly. A satisfied, full-blown laugh that was warm and loose. You finally felt free in your own skin again.
Tyriq brushed a thumb over your cheek, smirking down at you. “That good, huh?”
You nodded, still breathless, still melted against the sheets. “More than good.”
He raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”
You turned your head to look at him fully, deep brown eyes soft but shining with a newfound confidence.
“So…” you trailed off, a little teasing lilt in your voice, “You good? Because you definitely didn’t finish.”
His breath hitched at your boldness, a low sound that made his eyes darken instantly.
“You worried about me now?” he teased, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.
“A little,” you gasped as he moved inside you, still hard. “Actually a lot.”
He chuckled warmly. “Say what you want, baby.”
You bit your lip softly. “Can we try another position?”
Tyriq blinked and then let out a low, appreciative whistle.
“Ohhh,” he hummed, brushing his nose against yours. “So the shyness is gone now?”
“Completely,” you shrugged, smirking.
He grinned back, a spark of pride lighting his whole face. “Come here then.”
Before you could react, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you effortlessly off the bed, your legs instinctively hooking around him as a surprised giggle burst out of you as his dick slipped out. “Tyriq!”
“What?” he teased, kissing your jaw as he carried you toward the tall window overlooking the city. “You not even heavy, baby.”
“You showin’ off.”
“I am,” he admitted shamelessly. “You don’t seem mad.”
You definitely weren’t. Not in the slightest. You tucked your face into his neck, smiling. “I kinda like it.”
“Oh, you do, huh?” he asked, voice deepening as he stopped in front of the glass.
“Mmhmm.”
He set you down gently so your palms met the cool window. The city glittered beneath you, your reflections caught in the glass, your curves, your heels still on, his hands smoothing up your sides.
He leaned in behind you, breath tickling your ear. “You sure you can handle another position?”
“I know I can.” You nodded, looking at him sideways through the reflection. “I like the way you fuck me.”
His breath stuttered, a soft sound that showed how much he was holding back. “Turn all the way around.”
You turned the rest of your back to him slowly, instantly finding his eyes in the reflection as he gripped your hips and bent you over into the position he wanted.
He trailed hot kisses down your back as he stroked himself. “You look so pretty like this,” he praised, voice warm and reverent.
You glanced at his reflection with a tiny smile. “You look kinda good yourself.”
“Kinda?” he tsked, swatting your asscheek playfully.
“You alright.” you taunted, snickering as he pulled your ass closer.
“Yeah?” he quipped as he lined his tip up with your soaked entrance. “Let me see if I can change your mind.”
You held your breath as he plunged in, sweet heat blooming through you again as he sank further. He tightened his hold as he rocked back into you, circling his hips a few times before setting a pace that wasn’t too rough but harder than the previous position. He held your hips firmly but lovingly, moving with you like you’d been doing this forever.
It didn’t take long for you to match his rhythm. You braced your hands against the window, locking your knees back, heels helping you perfect your arch as you met his thrusts, fucking him back.
“Oh shit—that’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ about,” he groaned deeply, smacking your ass cheek, pace growing more relentless with each desperate sound you made. “Use that dick, baby."
His hips snapped over and over again, rigid muscles slamming against your soft cheeks, and his hand gripped your shoulder and yanked you back to meet his sharp thrusts, controlling you in a way that made your eyes roll back. You cried out, warm breath fogging part of the window, thighs shaking as pleasure built up faster and faster inside you.
“You got one more in you, baby?” He asked, panting harshly as he felt his own orgasm approaching. “Be a good girl and cum one last time on this dick.”
As if that was all the permission you needed, you came one more time. Harder than ever, gasping against the window as your pussy clenched around him so hard it made him hiss out several curses. “Oh shit, baby—fuckfuckfuck—I’m gonna cum. Whe—where you want it?”
“Cum inside me, Tyriq. Ple—please don’t stop until I’m full of you!”
“Goddamn,” Tyriq moaned in response, his large hands moving back down to grip at your waist as his hips smacked against your ass cheeks, pounding into you even harder, balls slapping against your sensitive clit as he chased his release. “I’m cumming, baby.”
He let out a loud, guttural moan as he shot hot white ropes of come into you, hissing sharply as you clamped down, milking him of everything he had.
When you both finally came down, bodies warm and pressed together, the city stretching out before you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and possessively hugged you from behind.
“You alright?” he asked, tenderly kissing the side of your neck.
You nodded, smiling as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder.
“Better than alright,” you boasted.
“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning into your skin. “Me too.”
The two of you stayed there for a long moment, pressed against the cool window, his arms wrapped around your waist, your back resting against his chest. The city glittered below you like it was applauding.
Eventually, Tyriq kissed your cheek, lips lingering before turning you gently in his arms.
“Come here,” he grunted softly, lifting you easily again, carrying you back toward the bed like you weighed nothing.
You snickered softly into his shoulder.
“You really like picking me up, don’t you?”
“It’s convenient,” he claimed, smirking as he set you down. “And you cute when you pretend you don’t like it.”
You shot him a look. “I do not—”
He raised a brow.
“…Fine,” you muttered. “Maybe a little.”
He grinned, dimples deep, green eyes soft. He plopped beside you and pulled the duvet over both of you. You relaxed against his chest, curls spilling over his forearms, your breathing slowly returning to normal.
His hand stroked your back lazily, drawing shapes. “You feelin’ okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Never better,” he sighed deeply, kissing the top of your head.
The two of you stayed like that, warm skin against warm skin, the afterglow settling around you in waves. You traced circles on his chest with your fingertip, shy but not scared anymore. He played with your coils gently, twirling one around his finger.
After a while, you broke the silence. “Tonight was…a lot.”
He hummed. “Good or bad?”
“Good,” you assured quickly. “Really good. Just…new.”
He lifted your chin gently with two fingers. “New isn’t bad.”
“I know. It’s just—I guess I wasn’t expecting all this. Us. You.”
He leaned in and kissed you, soft and slow this time. When he pulled back, his thumb brushed your bottom lip.
“Y/N,” he said quietly, “I’ve been in love with you since you corrected my first draft and told me I needed to learn humility.”
You burst into a full-blown cackle at the memory. “Oh my God—”
“Nah, for real,” he said, eyes warm and amused. “I was sittin’ there like, damn, she fine AND she right.”
You slapped his chest lightly, still laughing. “Shut up.”
He caught your hand, threading your fingers together.
“No,” he objected. “I’m done shuttin’ up. I’ve been waitin’ months to say this.”
You froze a little, looking up at him.
Tyriq sat up straighter, cupping your face with both hands, thumbs sweeping along your cheekbones. His eyes were certain—no second-guessing, no hesitation. “You’re my woman.”
You blinked. “Tyriq—”
He shook his head slowly, cutting you off with a soft kiss to your forehead.
“No questions. No maybe. None of that ‘we’ll see’ bullshit.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You. Are. My. Girlfriend.”
Your breath caught only for a moment, but he continued before you could spiral. “And I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Because I’m serious about you. About us, and I’m not letting you ignore what we have anymore.”
You stared at him, chest tight, heart thudding in the best possible way.
“You want me to be your girlfriend,” you asked softly.
He gave you that slow, devastating smile. “Oh, you already are. I just needed to make sure you on the same page as me."
You swallowed, happiness flooding you in a way you hadn’t felt in years.
“…Okay,” you agreed. “Then I’m yours.”
His eyes softened in a way you’d never seen before.
“Good,” he breathed, pulling you into his chest like you were something he’d been waiting to hold forever. “Because I’ve been yours.”
summary: One secret changes everything. As the Cody family’s carefully buried truths come to light, you find yourself caught between running from the people you love and fighting for them. In the end, loving Pope Cody doesn’t just change your life, it changes the entire family. andrew ‘pope’ cody x f!reader / cw: sexual content/smut, abusive relationship (not andrew), bestie!deran trope, not timeline specific, fix it fic, some parts are dark, mentions of SA/grooming, parental abuse, smurf and baz, manipulation, j redemption arc, murder, violence, major character death, canon show themes, substance use, drinking, gun use, possessive!pope, jealous!pope, soft boy!pope, discussions of mental health, warnings are chapter dependent. total word count: 110.1k amalia’s love note: finally started a masterlist for this series lol, love yall. this masterlist is ever changing and parts are being added inbetween updates as i go!! NOTE! this fic does not have a taglist, to be notified of updates pls follow this blog and turn on post notifs <3
doe-eyed running to my tranquility (smut, angst)
After escaping your abusive boyfriend, you get pulled into the dangerous world of the Cody family and unexpectedly become the center of Pope Cody’s obsessive attention. As dark secrets unravel around you, Pope grows fiercely protective, pulling you deeper into his chaotic life until the line between safety and danger disappears completely.
take what you want (smut, fluff, angst)
After a job goes wrong, Pope disappears for four days, hiding his injuries and burying himself in silence. But when you finally confront him, you realize his biggest problem isn’t violence, it’s that he doesn’t believe he’s allowed to want or need anything. So you show him exactly how badly you want him to take what’s his.
i love the sick (angst, dark)
What starts as a simple night watching Lena turns into something far more dangerous when Baz leaves you at Smurf’s overnight. As Smurf slowly tightens her grip, quietly isolating you from the outside world, J is the only one who notices the pattern for what it really is and for the first time, he steps between you and his family. The night cracks open the fragile balance you’ve built with the Codys, exposing a darker, more volatile side of Pope Cody that leaves your relationship hanging by a thread and forces long-buried truths dangerously close to the surface.
all my morals shot (smut, dark, angst)
One secret sends you running from the Cody family, but escaping Pope Cody proves impossible. As buried truths come to light and old wounds turn into reckless choices, you’re forced to confront the feelings you’ve been trying to outrun. Meanwhile, Smurf realizes too late that you’ve become a threat, not because you’re using Pope, but because you’re the first person who truly chooses him. And no matter how hard you run, Pope always finds his way back to you.
mirror (fluff, angst)
Vignettes from your years-long friendship with Deran Cody, and the long-overdue conversation that finally puts the pieces back together.
nothing at all (dark, smut, angst)
A phone call from your father cracks open wounds you thought had long since healed. As you struggle to keep yourself together, Pope shows you the terrifying truth about loving a man who would do absolutely anything for you.
siren sounds (angst, smut)
Smurf draws a line in the sand, and suddenly everything you love is at risk. Forced into an impossible choice, you tell a lie that could cost you everything to protect the person who matters most.
jealous type (smut, angst)
Jealousy isn’t your best look. According to Pope, though, it’s definitely your hottest. A harmless night out quickly turns into a game neither of you has any interest in losing.
boy (fluff, angst)
For the first time in your life, Craig Cody is speechless. Beneath the jokes and bad decisions is a man standing at a crossroads, trying to figure out whether he’s capable of becoming someone different than the people who raised him.
honeybee (angst)
For someone who’s spent their entire life expecting loss, happiness can feel just as frightening as heartbreak. As your relationship with Pope deepens, you’re left navigating the uncomfortable reality that the more you love something, the more there is to lose.
stranger danger (dark, angst)
Life. Death. Maybe the line between them was never as wide as people liked to believe. Sometimes it all comes down to a single choice, a single second, and when the dust settles, one person gets to keep living while another doesn’t.
did you miss me? (dark, angst)
Some moments divide your life into two parts: the person you were before, and the person you have to become after.
Time, You & Me (dark, angst)
You always imagined forever would be enough. You never considered forever might end six feet underground.
note: i saw this outfit on caleb and became so obsessed that this is what came of it… another example of something becoming way longer than i intended, but.. i was lost in the sauce!! okay, i hope you enjoy cuties. i luv you!
contains: caleb/reader, he has praise kink if you squint, you give him a handjob • MDNI
i did proofread, but i did get a little lazy soo… fingers crossed that it’s good!
“uhh… pips,” caleb calls to you from inside your shared bedroom, his echoing voice packed with a familiar lighthearted uncertainty that you’ve learned to identify over the many years together. “you sure you got me the right size? this seems a little… i dunno… tight?”
your boyfriend was in need of some new clothes. desperately. and for some reason, the same man who caters to your every need, who fulfills your every desire without hesitation, who gets you any and everything you could ever possibly want and need, seemingly refused to take the time to go out and buy himself a few articles of clothing to spruce up—what you comically call—his very dated wardrobe. it’s been the same recycled outfits over and over for a little while now, long enough for you to notice and suggest overdue change. you ultimately decided that if he wouldn’t do what you felt he at least deserved for all that he does, it only made sense for you to take matters into your own hands and do it yourself.
so, you used your morning and early afternoon while he’d been at work, traveling between a handful of stores inside the two malls you visited to purchase him a decent variety of items that you hoped to have done a fair job in selecting. seeing as he’s liked everything he’s modeled for you so far, you could confidently congratulate yourself for a job well done.
“let me see what you’re talking about, ‘leb,” you encourage with a subtle excitement, setting your phone down on the couch in preparation for him to fully open the door left ajar and give you another 360 turn like he’s done with every piece he’s tried on.
you already knew exactly what he was talking about. it’s precisely why you bought the item he questions in the first place. it’s also why you had no shame in the heat pooling in your stomach for what was revealed when he finally stood before you in the doorway.
from his wide and broad shoulders made more prominent by the black turtleneck greedily clinging to his muscular frame, strong forearms on display, and the black slacks that he continued to meddle with the silver buckle of, caleb was a prime representation of what one would surely classify as walking sex.
“see what i mean?” he huffs as if the perfection bestowed upon you was some kind of issue, arms falling to his sides to give you a proper look with him unmoving. oh, you were seeing alright. his nipples peaked beneath the material and the defined outline of his abs were giving you something beyond 20/20 vision.
“baby,” you exhale with your thighs pressing together, gaze trailing from his pink lips pursed in thought to the front of his pants that keeps one of your favorite things about him confined. “you look… really fucking good.”
his eyes widen and immediately does his cheeks grow rosy at your unfiltered compliment, that signature awkward laugh you adore making a cute addition to it all. he rubs the back of his neck shyly. “really? ya like it that much?”
“mhm,” you promise. “i’m literally throbbing in my panties right now, are you kidding me?”
“oh, c’mon… you’re playin’ with me, right? no way this is turning you on.” he gestures to his outfit and can barely attempt to act unfazed by your lustful appreciation, not when you shift your hips ever so slightly after watching his bicep flex from running a hand down the toned length of his stomach.
“caleb, have i not made it known that every single thing you do makes me want to pounce on you?” your tongue swipes across your bottom lip as you stand. “i mean, can you blame me? i do have a really, really, attractive man in the sexiest outfit i’ve ever seen, standing in our living room after all.”
his eyes never leave yours the closer you get in your approach. “i must admit, i did size it down. figured you’d make it look good and it seems i was very right. but do you like it?”
“it’s… different. i’m not too sure yet. buuut, i do like the way you’re lookin’ at me when i’m in it, more than anything,” he admits, inhaling sharply through his teeth when your hands begin to caress his pecs over the shirt and make a swift sweep past his sensitive nipples.
“yeah?” you whisper. “can i see how much you do?” he misses the opportunity to answer as your actions do it for him when you slowly undo his pants with your gazes working hard to hold one another captive. the gentle clink of the metal unfastening makes the insistent ache in your pussy intensify and the breath in caleb’s body work double time to gain a semblance of control. much to your delight, the turtleneck gives you a captivating display of it all.
your fingertips graze pass the fine hair that starts just beneath his belly button and you follow the roadmap it offers to something that you’ve already grown quite accustomed to as you slip past the white band of his underwear before you make contact with his hardening cock. it’s hot and so, so heavy in your palm when you firmly wrap your hand around him.
“my sweet baby. seems you weren’t lying, huh?” he nearly came from your praise right then without shame.
his eyes flutter shut at the inebriating pressure you apply and his body shudders when you start to stroke him in agonizingly slow tugs. “you should know that i really like it, ‘leb. love it, in fact. you look so handsome, so strong…”
“p-pipsqueak…” your boyfriend mumbles, ears ringing from the way you smear the thick precum spilling from his tip around with your thumb and make a mess you internally promise to clean. with that and the loving kisses you press to his ticking jaw and right under his chin, caleb seemed to have developed a newfound appreciation for fashion in that moment. “please don’t stop… oh s-shit that’s… mmph—what about… just… l-let me touch you, too…”
“you wanna touch me?” you coo, grinning with a kiss to the pulse thumping in his neck. “soon.”
“please…” he murmurs before helplessly falling into you and burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep inhale of relief as your scent adds to his bliss. your pace never falters, never increases and never slows. you simply play the desperate man like a fiddle that’s begging to be used. “s-so good… ‘m gonna—”
“awe, already? just a little more for me, caleb baby… you’re so pretty like this.” he can’t think straight. not at all. and it only grows more difficult when he can feel his balls tighten and cock twitch from how close he is. “let me hear you say it?”
“s-say what?” the muffled whimpers in your neck that accompany his question gathers more slick in your panties.
“that you’re pretty. that you deserve to look and feel this good all the time.”
“mm—i’m p-pretty… fuck pips, just wanna look pretty for you…” he can’t help himself, licking and sucking on your heated flesh the best his body allows in the midst of his words. “i deserve it. i d-deserve this…”
“there you go…” your hand snakes up his flexing muscles and into his soft hair with a firm grip. “we have to make sure you believe it, hm?”
only then do you stroke him faster, grinning as his choked moans after your unexpected efforts grow louder and louder. you wince when he gently bites your shoulder, feeling the pleasure of the sting immediately reach between your legs.
caleb captures your mouth soon after, kissing you hard and impatiently until his body jerks and warm sticky spurts of cum spill into your hand that doesn’t stop even when his legs are close to failing him after something so intense.
a comfortable silence surrounds you while you give him the time he needs to recover with even more presses of your lips to his slightly sweaty skin.
“i like this one the most,” he breathlessly chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “aaand… i’m ready to show you how thankful i am.”
creds to @/anitalerina for the orange line divider, @/thecutestgrotto for the star divider, and @/asiatic-apple for the username banner!
