Hey :) I'm Cher! I use she/her and I'm 20. I write nsfw, sappy sfw, angst, whatever I'm feeling based on my current fandom diet.
A little about me
I'm a taurus. I loveeeeee hot wrestler women (Rhea Ripley, Garnet, Vi..). I’m a pagan witch (spooky ik) andddd I want to get better at writing longer fics and hopefully start a series this year 😋
What fandoms do I write for exactly?
so many lol but to name a few: Creepypasta, MHA, DID, Haikyuu, Genshin Impact andddd Jujutsu Kaisen.
My requests are currently open!!
if you're unsure whether or not I will write for a fandom not on my list send it in! doesn't hurt to check. Also feel free to js let me know your thoughts, thirsts, hear me outs etc.
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SUMMARY: The 'surgeon' has been making visits across town and everyone is on edge. However, someone seems to be particularly "off" compared to the others.. what's going on with them? As tensions rise a new threat emerges.
PAIRINGS: Eyeless Jack/Jack Nyras x Witch! reader, Brian Thomas, Tim wright, Nina Hopkins, Jeffery woods, Tobias Rogers, Jane Richardson ⋆˚꩜。
WARNINGS: Disturbing Imagery, blood, self harm (demonic ritual), eventual gore and smut
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter was a long time coming. I've been struggling with pacing since this is my first time writing a longer story, but it's looking like we might have closer to 8-10 chapters :)
-ִ ࣪𖤐 Cher
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"Hey, it's ok. I can stay tonight." Your ears ring as the world around you spins. So much has happened in the past week. Not one, but two of your neighbors have been visited by the midnight surgeon.
The name is ridiculous.
'The midnight surgeon,' they had started calling him, as if any of this were even remotely close to medical practice. It's an intrusion, a burglary. It's a violation.
They don't know how he's doing it; the victims never wake up until well after the procedure. They must be drugged; they have to be. How else would Nina completely miss the literal stitches running down her side?
You can't even look out the windows at night without chills dancing along your spine. The angry scar lingers in your mind. As if that isn't bad enough, sleep has been running just outside your grasp. Every time you start to drift off, your eyes fly open as the house creaks and groans. Normal apartment sounds have you clutching at your shirt, throwing yourself out of bed in a frenzy.
You fear that if you fall asleep for even one second he'll get you. He'll drug you, and you won't even be able to wake up and fight for yourself. You'll wake up missing an organ, and there will have been nothing you could do.
It haunts you.
"Did you hear me?" You blink hard, chasing the dark away. Jack.
A hand landing on your shoulder makes you jump, yet as you turn to face him you relax into the touch.
He looks like he's getting more sleep—definitely more than you. His dark eyes lock directly onto yours. His lashes are so long and pretty. You forget your words again. "Ah, um—I—Yes!" He laughs, and despite the fear curling in your gut, butterflies resurface. "I was saying I can stay over tonight. Let me sleep on the couch; I'm the lightest sleeper ever. I'll keep watch for you; won't let anything happen. You need to get some sleep… you look like shit."
A frown bullies your lips. "You think I look like shit?" He laughs again, brazenly, as if none of this unease fazes him. "No, no." His hands are waving in the air. "I mean, your—well, you look great! It's just the bags under your eyes and the fact you look like a zombie that I'm worried about. It's obvious you just need a little rest. Your jaw drops. "You think I look like a zombie?! Jack, this is not the way to get invited over." He smiles, and his hand comes to your face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and rests his thumb against your cheek. It rubs soothing circles into your skin. You let your eyes fall shut, leaning into his hand. He's about to say something, but the sound of footsteps causes him to freeze up, hand flying to his side.
You both scramble to look normal as Jane walks in. She stops in the doorway. "Hey, if you guys want to act fuckin' awkward together, that's fine, but we're all closed up. Everyone else is gone, and I wanna leave too. Go act prepubescent in the parking lot." You and Jack both look to her, then back to each other. Your cheeks burn. "Yeah, sorry, Jane... We'll get going," you mumble it quietly, but she seems to hear what you say. She makes a 'shooing' gesture with her hands, and the two of you hurriedly drop the aprons and grab your bags.
As you step out into the parking lot the cool spring air washes against you. It's not too cold, in fact it's been nice and sunny this week. However, the wind carries a slight chill making the weather feel at least five degrees lower. Leaves are starting to grow on the trees and the grass is looking more lush and green every day. The gravel crunches beneath your feet and you breathe deeply.
You walk Jack to his car. "Can you... Y'know, come over tonight?" he stops, hand resting on his car door. The way he gives you his full attention gets to you. You continue softly, "You're right... I haven't been sleeping. I would really appreciate it. I'll buy you takeout?" He grins at you softly as he unlocks his car. "Yes, I can. You don't need to buy me takeout, though; I have leftovers. I'll be over around seven. "
You're sad he won't eat with you, but you nod eagerly. He takes your hands in his, occupying the space between you. "It's going to be ok." He gives you a reassuring little squeeze. You sigh tiredly, realizing how much you've been letting fear control your life this past week. You wave him goodbye and head to the car, deflating once you're in the front seat.
───────────────
When Jack arrives, it's to a clean apartment. You don't know much about his spirituality, but you don't want to freak him out with all the witchy stuff. You tuck most of it away into corners and cupboards, leaving out only the few books on your shelves. He arrives with a few short raps on your door, and the thump of his shoes against your welcome mat as he takes them off.
Baggy sweatpants and a form fitting T-shirt. Hallelujah. The spirits must be rewarding you for all the stress you've been dealing with.
You welcome him in sweetly, taking his sweater and bag. "So, how were leftovers?" He gives you one of his reserved little smiles. "Delicious, thanks. Sorry I couldn't join you for takeout. It's the kind of stuff I don't like to let go to waste." You give him an inquisitive look. "It's a very rare kind of meat. Expensive… I only treat myself once in awhile. " You nod, pretending to understand. He must be eating Wagyu or something. You wouldn't let that go to waste either. You usher him into the living room.
"Umm, so I set out some blankets for you. Are you sure you wanna..." Your voice drops to a hush. "You don't like… have to sleep on the couch… you could—"
He cuts you off obliviously. "What?"
You shake your head, dismissing the blush on your cheeks along with the idea. "Ah, nothing, nothing. Do you need anything? Water? More pillows?" You look over to find him thumbing through the books on your shelves, fingers glossing over the titles. You follow, hands fidgeting behind your back. "Oh, sorry. No, I don't need anything."
You cringe as you notice the witchy titles still on the shelf, but he glosses past them. "You're quite well read, aren't you?" A smile sheepishly crosses your face at his praise. He pulls out a book by Dostoyevsky, looking through your annotations and notes scrawled on the pages. He pulls out another one... one all too familiar from that night. Quirking an eyebrow at you, he cards through the book. "Demonology?" You laugh awkwardly. "Yup! I like reading about all sorts of spiritualities and topics. It's all very… interesting." You flatten your lips together, mentally face-palming for leaving this book out. Thankfully, he drops it.
Walking back over to the couch, he fluffs the pillow you set for him before falling into the pallet.
He smiles at you. "I'll be just fine here. You go get some rest; we both know you need it."
You reach for the words, attempting to flirt or say something clever, but the exhaustion humming in your skin has rendered you speechless. All you can do is nod as you trail off to your bedroom. He gives you a little wave and a confident smile as you shut the door. What the hell.
As soon as the door is clicked shut, you press your side against the wood and release a breath you didn't know was sitting in your chest. A hand comes up to push the hair out of your face. You sigh. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." You mutter curses as you get cozy and slip into your covers, but your eyelids are already drooping shut.
You don't have the energy to chide yourself right now. It starts to rain outside. You can hear the spring shower tapping against your window and pattering on your roof. The neighbors' wind chime dances in the wind, clinking and sparkling. Your body is weightless and floaty. The last thing you remember as you drift to sleep is Kitty hopping up onto the bed and curling into you, purring and trilling as you both fall into a well-earned rest.
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When you wake up, the house is eerily quiet. Kitty is nowhere to be found, but you smell something delicious wafting from through the cracks of the door. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, you stretch, relishing the feeling of a well-rested body.
You trod out of your room, gently rubbing at your eyes, to see Jack in one of your witchy aprons swaying around the kitchen. He hums softly, totally unaware of your presence. You sneak up behind him, enjoying the atmosphere before tapping his shoulder. You'd think he would jump, but instead he spins around smoothly. He takes you off guard, using his free hand to wrap around your waist as he continues making breakfast with the other. "Yeah, you look so much better when you've slept. You should do it more often." You chuckle, relaxed for the first time in what feels like forever. "Well, good morning to you too."
Kitty pops out from behind a corner, wrapping around Jack's leg and chirping. "You seem to be a crowd favorite. " He lets you go, stooping over to scratch Kitty between her ears. "I think your cat has good taste." Your eyes wander down his firm arms and hands, large and worn from working in the garden. "Maybe we both do…" He doesn't say anything, but his ears turn bright red. "Jack, would you stay? Just until they catch this… thing… I've been so on edge and you jus—" Jack silences you accidentally as he flips the pancakes, and they sizzle.
You don't finish the thought; you know he understands. "Yeah, I can stay as long as you need. Whatever you need, just let me know."
You breathe a sigh of relief and excitement. The high school giddiness that comes with a crush bubbles up inside of you. "I... um..."
He eyes you mischeviously, quirking an eyebrow. "Yes? Your ears are red now; you can tell. Wow, is it hot in here? Your face is hot. You chuckle nervously as you evade his gaze. "Nothing... just... I'm glad that we met. You cringe at your words. You can tell he's naturally nonchalant. Not in the performative man sort of way, but in the way that he doesn't talk about his feelings often. Was that weird for you to say? You drag your eyes from the floor, daring to look back at him. His smile is soft and warm. "Me too."
—
"He said he'd stay with you as long as you need?" You smile stupidly at the flowers you are arranging. "His exact words Nina." She makes a noise caught between approval and reluctance, drawing your attention from the flowers to her sour face. "I mean don't get me wrong I'm all for the you and Jack pipeline, but isn't this a little fast? I mean this is adjacent to moving in together and we've known this guy what?! A month or two???"
You feel a defensive twinge somewhere inside. "I mean yeah, but under the circumstances… I think it's justified?" Nina's eyes narrow. Ouch. You can tell she's biting her tongue. "Ok, whatever, you guys are cute I guess." You both go back to the boquets as a tight silence falls between you. It doens't last. Tim and Brian slice it open, tramping inside as the bell above the door chimes. Their boots track dirt on the floor and they bring with them the smell of earth.
They slough off their gloves and gear, completely unaware of what they've walked into. You can feel their eyes scanning—trying to figure out the lack of conversation. Brian pipes up, "Do you two have any fresh coffee in here? Shit in the greenhouse is like three days old." You smile nervously. Nina sighs in disappointment. She fiddles with the clips in her hair as she chides them. "Of course we have fresh coffee. That's what happens when you don't stay loyal to us... you get weird shit from Toby. You chuckle despite yourself. Nina is funny... and she's right. Whatever the fuck Toby's concocting in there probably isn't coffee. You guys are safer with us anyways." You snicker.
You lead the men to the back room, laughing as you reach for the mugs. Tim mumbles something about betrayal, and Brian bellows a laugh. You pour their coffee black, the way they like it, watching your reflection in the liquid as you talk. "How's work out there today?" Tim shrugs and scratches the back of his head. "Nothing special, but Janey is on one today. She's been running around barking orders all day. Maybe those fuckin' cemicals in the makeup are getting to her." Nina swats him playfully. "Don't be mean," You laugh.
"How about you two? Anything interesting in the floral department? Nina's eyes lock with yours, and you decide to forget about the weird conversation. You smile at her. She takes it as an invitation and wraps an arm around you, rubbing your shoulder as she laughs at the guys. "Nope. Just boring flower stuff for us." All you can do is nod. The bell chimes from the front, and you can tell by the clack of heels that it's Jane. Tim and Brian flinch, whispering to cover for them while they sneak around back.
"Jane! Uh... What can I do for you?
Her bat-like, lacy sleeves flutter as she looks through the order sheet. She looks up from her clipboard, locking eyes with you. "How are the flowers for this funeral? It's coming up in two days. I need to know you guys are on top of it." A shiver runs down your spine. "Oh, yeah, we're working on them right now, act-actually." You point dumbly at the bouquets you and Nina had been distracted from. She checks something off on her list and then scans the store one more time. When she finds nothing else to worry about, she nods, making her way to the door.
Just before she's about to leave, she falters, mumbling something. She seems... worried? "Yes?" Her hand falters on the door handle. You notice an unfamiliar look flash over her face. She recomposes herself.
"Nothing. Nevermind."
With that, she's gone.
A few moments later Nina erupts from the back, face flushed and eyes sparkling. "Good job covering for us; She didn't even notice they were here." You thumb at a stray petal on the counter as she goes on about Tim and Brian. "Hey, have you talked to Jane today?" Nina stops mid-ramble, thoughtfully tapping her cheek. "No, I haven't. Why?" You resume your work on the boquet as you ponder. "Oh, no reason... she just seems kind of off today? Like she's extra stressed. We don't have any big orders right now, so... It's just odd." She smiles sympathetically at you as she also returns to her bouquet.
"I know everything seems tense right now... with what's happening around town, but we're not the only department she manages. Maybe there's some big landscaping ordeal... or a problem with the truck or the greenhouse! You never know. I'm sure she's just stressed in the way managers are supposed to be."
You sigh. "Yeah, you're probably right."
───────────────
Nina was not right. The next week is the most stressful seven days you've ever worked as a florist. No, there were not any massive orders, nor was there any issue with stock. There was, however, an angel of death nitpicking your every movement. Jane went from her usual haughty no-nonsense attitude to a flurry of misery, anxiety, and deadlines.
She hovered over every task you performed, watching like a hawk and asking questions about every move you made. Everything you had to do doubled in time and effort—purely because she was unbearable. This resulted in you and Nina scrambling to meet deadlines and working overnight to finish orders for events that could not be pushed back. There was hardly any point in Jack coming over to help you sleep because you weren't sleeping. You were working on orders, and those fuckass eyebags had returned.
All this schpeel to say that she is currently getting on your last nerve and if—"Jane, so help me gods, if you do not take a step back and let me do what I need to do!" "You will NOT have a florist!" Nina grimaces, and you can tell she's thinking the same thing. Your manager huffs. "As if you would actually quit." You can feel yourself losing your last nerve. It's several hours after close. The darkness outside battles the flickering, fluorescent lights that have your eyes burning. You set down your tools and clench your fists, trying to contain your frustration.
"No, ordinarily I would not. But this week has been hell, and if you don't snap out of whatever psycho mode you've gone into, I will be gone. Gone with the wind. Fucking gone. I did not become a florist to be stressed all the time!"
Jane stutters, and her usually impeccable makeup seems to crack. Her eyes dart to the floor as she crosses her arms. The quiet rings through the room for a moment. "Nina, it's late. Clock out and go home."
Fuck, you're in for it now.
You coyly resume your work, hoping it will be enough to appease her wrath. For all the talk you do, you actually like this job. The silence as Nina grabs her things and punches out is deafening. Every move she makes echoes through the dimly lit shop. When she finally closes the door, your chest becomes tight.
"You're right."
You look up. "Hmm?" Jane's eyes are glassy. She walks towards the bathroom, leaving you alone. For a second you're worried you made her cry and now your fucked. When she comes back you can see her eyes. They're a beautiful blue, but you have grown so accustomed to the massive black sclera lenses that it almost looks more unnatural for her to have regular eyes. "Sorry, I had to take those out. But you're right, I have been acting a bit.. much." Your jaw drops as you make a sound of disbelief. "You think?" She winces and you instantly feel guilty… ( but not that guilty ).
"It's just.. I don't know how to say this…. I think-" She inhales shakily. "I think that thing.. whatever it is- it's after me."
You know exactly what she's referencing.
"What do you mean it's after you? How can it be after you? No one's ever seen it." She bites her lip, teeth bright against her dark lipstick. "I think I have." You drop your tools again, turning to her. "What the hell, Jane? Go on, obviously." She's shaking. "So, last week something broke in through one of my windows. I—Well, I called the police, but they said it was just a large animal like... a coyote or some shit. I know it wasn't. Now I've been seeing th-th-this thing."
She talks so fast she has to pause to catch her breath.
"I've been seeing it! And it's fleshy and gross. It's like a human, but... oh, its arms and legs... they're long and disgusting. I hear its claws on my windows and my roof. I know it's there, but I haven't, like, fully seen it. The police don't believe me." There are tears streaming down her face now. They're muddy with white makeup and black eyeliner. You haven't seen her this way before. It scares you.
You know that despite your nerves this could be the best time to take action. If you can convince the authorities it's real... if you can get it off the streets, everyone will be able to sleep well again. Nina, Jane, your neighbors… You take Jane's hand in yours. "I believe you... I'm sorry you've been going through this alone. Jane, are you sure this thing is what's been taking kidneys?"
She is sobbing now. "I don't know? Does it matter? What else could it be?! All I know is I tried to sleep after that first night and I saw it.. I heard it. I've been sleeping at a hotel the least few nights but.. ev-every time I go home to get something I feel it. It's watching me! The only way I can distract myself is to put everything into work!" Her nails dig into her shoulders as sobs wrack her body. "I know you all think I'm cruel, ok, but every second I spend not thinking about work.. I'm thinking about that- that monster!¹ It wants me! I know it does!"
Poor thing must've been so afraid this whole time. You had no idea. You need to take action, but right now she needs to rest. Ackwardly, you try to hug her. You hush her cries and tell her it's going to be ok. "Hey, hey.. listen. Jack's been staying at my place because I've been scared of this thing too, ok? Why don't you come stay for awhile? You'll feel safer with more people."
—
It doesn't take much to convince her. That night she comes home with you. You help her pack up what she has in the hotel and bring it back to your place. When she's fast asleep on the couch in a T-shirt and bonnet, you hardly recognize her. Sure she's pale, but nothing like how she is at work. Underneath every goth there's flesh. I guess.
Jack stands beside you, rubbing your lower back as he sighs. "No wonder shit's been crazy this week." His voice is raspy with sleep. "Yeah, no wonder..." you echo. You rest your head on his shoulder as you think. "You think she saw it? " He leads you back to your bedroom as he mulls over the question. "No. I think maybe she saw something else. What she described… How would something like that have the delicacy to stitch someone up? "You scoff. "You're suggesting a more terrifying second thing we have to worry about? Seriously, what is going on with this place? What's next, a grotesque tooth fairy?"
He chuckles, but you both know the concern is real. Despite it all, hearing him chuckle makes you swoon. He moves to get up, but your hand shoots out to stop him. "Wait."
"Hmm, what's up?"
"Where are you planning to sleep?" He smiles. "Aw, I was just going to take the floor in the living room. You frown pointedly. "What? No, you're not? What kind of host do you think I am?" The grin on his face softens. He does something unexpected. He leans over, breath tickling your face.
His smell, that earthy cologne, fills your senses. A kiss is planted on your forehead. It's soft and tender, accompanied by a hand holding your face. When he leans back, there's something sad in his expression. "I think you're the kind of host who needs to rest. I am the kind of guest who's going to sleep on the floor. Goodnight. "You wish you could protest, but he takes your words with him as he walks out of your room. You almost forget about the horrors this city is accumulating.
—
The morning greets you with rain again. You wake up well past your alarm to find out that your manager has given everyone the day off. You discover this as you walk into the living room to see her out of drag, sitting cross legged on your couch, eating Hot Cheetos and watching a rom-com. Suppose the girl deserves to relax. You drag yourself to the kitchen to find Jack cooking it up (as he does).
Your favorite sight is his muscles flexing as he makes you breakfast. He flips an omelet, and his back ripples. "You know, you don't have to cook for me every day. I'm grown," you say. Please never stop cooking for me; you're so sexy. "Take me right now" is what you're thinking. He slides the omlet onto a plate, garnishing it. "I enjoy it." The plate slides over towards you, and a fork sneaks into your hand. "Well, if you insist." You sit eating and kicking your legs at the bar. It's a nice morning.
Sunlight streams into your window despite the rain. Your hanging plants are lush and green. Late spring has graced your kitchen. It's almost summer, though, and you're ready to have the windows open all season. It's funny that you can even think of normalcy with everything happening.
Dishes clink as Jack rinses them in the sink. You pipe up: "Hey, it's weird, you know? This second monster isn't even scary because everything seems so surreal." He sighs at you. "Yeah, I think that's a normal human thing. Bad on top of worse becomes fine. "You snort. "Whatever that means... Breakfast is delicious, by the way. You can hear the smile in his voice. "Good." Jane walks in. "Didn't you say you've got a cat? Where's she at? You raise an eyebrow. Why?" Her lips purse. The stereotypes are correct; I'm a sucker for cats.
Laughing to yourself, you stand up from your seat. "Here, kitty. Tch, tch, tch." You walk around the apartment calling her name. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." No response? You check under your bed. Crouched in the back of all your junk is Kitty. Her eyes glow in the darkness. Your boss stands there idly, but all you can do is shrug at her. "She doesn't always like new people. Not sure when she'll come out," she pouts. You smile. Serves her right for what she put you through this week.
Jack suddenly draws the curtains. "I have to go—I forgot. Have to take care of somethin'" Is all he says as he walks out the door. "Okkk, weird day for all of us. Well, Jane, I hope staying here puts your mind at ease. You're welcome to stay until they catch this thing. " She nods, and you almost regret offering. You don't wanna live with your manager. " Will you go back to my house with me to get some stuff? Even in the daylight it... gives me the creeps.
No the hell you will not. There are fuckin monsters an—" "Sure! Let's go." You snatch your keys off their hook, and before you know it, you're on your way. Awesome.
Jane's house gives you the creeps… And it's not just because she hobbies in taxidermy. When she unlocks the door, the whole house groans. It's even worse the second you step inside.
She asks you to stand watch by her bedroom door while she packs. You're afraid to even be in the hallway alone. Perhaps it's a placebo, but you can feel something, some energy watching you. It gives you the chills. You're definitely taking a cleansing bath tonight and making sure your protections are up to par.
You can hear her rummaging around in her room. Drawers open and shut. Something is dragged across the hardwood floor. You sigh, leaning back on your heels.
"This is all your fault-"
"Excuse me?" The words make you bristle. Jane comes into view dragging a suitcase out of her room. "All of this. You didn't have to invite me to stay. I'm your boss; I know it's weird. But… thanks."
You relax at her admission. "Aside from this week, you've been good to me, and anyone would be afraid in your position. I'm glad that I can help." She hoists her luggage up, carrying it toward the car. Once it's all loaded up, she claps her hands together. "Alright, just one more thing. Follow me." You grimace when she leads you back into the creepy house.
With every step you take the scent of unease grows stronger. She leads you down a hallway you haven't seen yet. You swallow hard as the fear grows. She stops at the last door; the hallway isn't lit here, and the shadows seem to circle you menacingly. Gripping the knob, she bangs the door twice before pushing inside. "Rusty old thing. " You look behind you towards the light. You can see the front door from here, the safety of daylight. You turn to face her. "Haha, yeah…" She smiles sympathetically.
You look around at the slim hallway you've walked into. There's a washer, a dryer, and a few cabinets. There's another door directly in front of you. It looks like the garage door. She sighs. "Listen, when it was really bad last week, this is where I heard the scratching. I keep some important documents in a cabinet in the garage. It's never been a problem during the daytime, but can you just watch while I run in there and grab them? I'd feel safer." The words 'all your fault'echo in your mind. "Yeah, of course."
Her fingers curl around the doorknob, and you hear her take a shaky breath. As she opens the door, she beckons you to the entrance. "Just wait here." She slips into the darkness, and you think you've lost sight, but the motion light is quick to turn on. It flickers, dimly illuminating the grey space creeping in on Jane. You watch her pad carefully across the cold floor. When she reaches the cabinet at the back of the garage, you silently cheer. The rustling of the papers echoes throughout the room, and it makes you cringe.
You jump as something else rustles, but when nothing happens, you assume it was just boxes shifting. "Jane! Hurry up!" She shoots you a look and whispers across the room. "Shut up! I'm still your boss." Just as she pulls out the papers she needs with a fist pump, something snaps. A box falls; something moves. Her eyes go wide and she stands for all of a second before bolting for the door.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" She chants as she runs desperately. You see a shadow in the corner, something way too big for you to have missed it. Jane rips inside the doorframe, screaming at you to "Shut the fucking door!" You slam it and watch as she locks it and piles shit against it. Something slams against it from the garage. Nails screech as it scrapes the thin barrier keeping you safe. "Help me move this!" She's on her knees pushing the washer out from its spot against the wall.
You rush over and pull with all your weight until the washer is snug against the door. The scratching gets faster, more furious—you freeze for a moment, drawing a blank on what to do next. All your fault.
A grotesque paw breaks through the door and in the dim light you can see an eye glittering. It's locked onto you. The creature seems delighted by its progress and begins to chip at the half of the door that's not blocked by the washer.
A harsh hand around your wrist yanks you from the hallway and back towards the light of the front door. "Snap out of it!" Hands frisk you, finding your keys and manhandling you into the car. You hear her start the car and feel her floor it as she swerves out of the driveway. It's all your fault. The two of you are well down the road within a minute, but you could swear that in the rearview mirror you make out something. A person that's too tall and too long. Fingers snap in front of your face, and you blink hard. Before you know it, she's slapping you. "I'm here! I'm here! Gods, sorry. I—I wasn't ready. I didn't think—" Jane snorts. "Yeah, the minute that thing started chasing me, you stopped thinking," She's breathing heavily and obviously rattled, but even so, your manager chides you. You sigh guiltily. "Jane, I'm sorry, I—" She cuts you off abruptly. "It's fine. It was terrifying for both of us. But I really didn't think you'd be the kind of person to freeze up like that." You sink into the passenger seat, rubbing your arms.
Every time you blink, you see the silhouette of that thing in your mind. "Yeah, me neither."
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"Ok. So, it's definitely real." Jack raises an eyebrow at you. "You didn't believe her?" You scoff as you try to explain. "Well, I thought it was some perverted freak running around playing doctor. I didn't expect it to be an actual fucking monster." He sighs, leaning on his elbow and tracing circles into your skin.
This is the closest you've gotten him to sleeping in your bed, and you're sure that once you go to bed, he'll slip right out. The closeness is reassuring; you think he knows that. "I've never told anyone this, but the reason I skipped town and moved out here is because I saw something like that. "You inhale softly. "What happened?" He sits up straight, and you lean into the crook of his arm as he gathers his thoughts.
"Well, I was in college, believe it or not. I was seeing this girl. I mean, we weren't dating, but I really liked her. She and her friends liked to hang out by this cave, but one night there was this freak storm. It was genuinely the worst storm I've ever experienced. I woke up, and I just knew somehow… that she was in the cave. I had to warn her."
You feel a twinge at the mention of another girl, but you nestle closer. You can tell this is a painful memory.
"So, I ran through the woods to this fuckass cave. I show up and I can see, even from a distance, that something isn't right. All of her friends are there, and they're all in robes. They were chanting a name, summoning something. I see them grab this kid. They start doing awful stuff to him. I watched them rip out his eyes and pour shit into them. Then I saw it. Whatever they did, whatever sacrifice they made. They summoned a demon. He was horrible. I couldn't stay in that place afterwards, not knowing that he was there. Not after everything I saw. So, I left."
You look at him as he finishes his story. His face is beautiful, but for the first time you notice how hollow it is. You see a fear, or sadness, in his eyes that you hadn't noticed before. It's permanent, barely noticeable, and always there. You lock fingers with him, squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry that happened, and you had to watch that. You act so strong all the time; I would've never known." He smiles halfheartedly. "Yeah, well, I guess monsters are everywhere, huh? Can't keep running; every new place has its demons. Besides... I found somethin' worth staying for." He kisses the top of your head. You groan as he stretches and starts to get out of bed. "Jack. Stay tonight."
He pulls you into bed and tucks the sheets around you. "Not yet." He leaves the room, shutting the door with a soft click. Crickets hum through your window, and windchimes play as you stare at the ceiling. All your fault. Jack has seen this before, and it was when someone was trying to summon a demon. All your fault. You turn hotly, burrowing your head into the pillows to try and quiet your mind. It's all your fucking fault.
—
The next day at work isn't great. Ok, the monster's at Jane's house. Nobody else knows about it, and no one else will know, because you don't need to stress them out. Great. But you do know. You are stressed out. You have an order due tomorrow, and you are super behind because the shop was closed yesterday and Jane's anxious nagging set everyone back. Additionally, Nina cannot seem to arrange in peace. She has something to say. Peachy.
So you're still living with him? You aren't scared? Has he done anything weird or like... I don't know what vibe you are getting. "You cut the stems off the flower, sharply exhaling as you peel your eyes away from your work. Nina, I—" She sighs before you can even get a word out. "Hey, you can't blame me! I understand you don't care, but he's a complete stranger; he could be a creep. " You can't help the feeling of unease that creeps into your voice as you respond. "Yeah, but I'd rather take my chances with him than whatever is out there cutting into people." All your fault .
Nina sighs, pushing her bouquet away and facing you. "Sweetheart, I say this in all honesty, not to fearmonger… For all we know, he could be the thing cutting people up. I just think you should be careful." Your hand slips on the stem that you're cutting the thorns off of, and you feel the sting pricking your skin. All your fault. You falter, an unexplainable anger surfacing in your gut. "Ok, I know he's maybe a bit socially awkward, but you don't know him like I do. You can't just judge someone because they don't have the same constant upbeat attitude as you. Jack would never—he—"
Nina has her hands out as if trying to calm a skittish animal. She inches toward you as you grow increasingly bewildered. "I'm not saying anything! I just think it's weird that all this started right after he moved here. We don't know who we can trust right now. I'm the one who's been cut up; I think I have a reason to be skeptical. "You chuff at her baseless accusations. "And you really think who or whatever this is… is just out in society living a normal life? It's probably camped out in the woods or something. With that logic... for all I know, you could be the psychopath cutting people up." All your fault. You point an accusatory finger at Nina, and she flinches. "Girl, it's obviously not—" You round the counter, gripping the marble for stability. No. What evidence do you even have to accuse Jack of that?! You're just making things up because you can't stand to see me happy." Nina tries to respond, but you storm into the back, dropping your apron and whipping your bag off the hook. "Can it, Nina. I can't handle this right now. Tell everyone I went home sick." She makes sounds of disbelief as you storm towards the door. "Wait—" slam!
You press your back against the door as you breathe heavily. Your fingers scrape into the wood, chipping at the paint as you ground yourself. Gods… Why does this hurt so bad? It's like every word she says against Jack is pointed towards you. You know she's not being crazy… It's a reasonable concern.
Pressing off the door, you take a clarifying breath as you stand up straight. You can hear muffled voices. You hear Tim's boots as he stomps in and the consoling tone he takes with Nina. You also hear the disbelief in her voice as she relays a sob story you can't quite make out. Well, Jane's going to find out about this one way or another, so you may as well go home. Fuck the order.
All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your fault.
It replays in your head as you drive. You know why you're upset. You know, but you don't want to admit it. You've known since Nina was in the hospital. It's been lingering in the back of your mind. Then, when that thing tried to hurt Jane.... You could feel the energy seeping off of it. It was familiar. You knew what it was and where it came from.
All your fault. All your fault. All your fault.All your fault.All your fault All yourfaultAllyourfault.
Finally, with Jack's story- you realized the reason everyone is in danger is you. It's your fault. You summoned it. You brought this into the mortal realm. You've been trying to hide from it, to play civilian. You turned a blind eye. You couldn't sleep at night - not because you were scared it was after you, but because your subconscious couldn't handle the guilt. You wanted to give up on witchcraft, to believe the ritual didn't work. You brought this here. It's your fault that Nina's kidney was stolen and that Jane can't sleep at night. It's your demon. It's your responsibility to get rid of it.
Notes: yayaya If you made it to the end of ch 2! Taglist is still open! Comment to be added :)
Hey guys, ch 2 of Roots is out on ao3. This one took awhile bc I really struggled with deciding how I wanted to pace this story and how much would be in this chapter.
I'm still making my header and doing all the cute stuff before I put it up here, but it is out! I'll have it on Tumblr soon :>
─────────────────────────────── ready to start - arcade fire
── .✦ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.
CONTAINS NSFW, MINORS DNI
✦ . Summary: (No correlation to other parts, only prologue) The bottle lands on Tim.
✦ . Characters: Tim Wright (Masky) x Reader
✦ . Warning: Alcohol, cigarettes, erotic asphyxiation, breath control play, semi-public sex, dirty talk, oral fixation, blowjobs, choking, risky sex, nicotine high, dizziness, hair pulling, fingers in mouth, spit, oral sex, rough oral sex, first time blow job
✦ . Words: 12.1k
✦ . Note: Please do not hang me and kill me for how long this took to post. Apologies! Hopefully the length makes up for it! School is officially over, so now I can dedicate my time to writing more, so be on the lookout! For all my blow job lovers (I see you and I appreciate you), this is for you!!!
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It was ironic watching your fate be decided by a lousy beer bottle you hadn’t even gotten to drink out of yet.
But everything in this lousy mansion is out of your hands anyway.
The bottle spun on the coffee table, wobbling through the leftover alcohol and cigarette ash stains before it slowed and finally stopped.
It landed on—
You looked up.
Tim.
Before the room could go completely silent, Jeff let out a loud, ugly laugh.
“Well shit,” he crowed, leaning back on the couch and covering his face with his hands. “Looks like Timmy gets the consolation prize. Try not to bore her to death in there, old man.”
Tim didn’t snap back. He just stared Jeff down from across the circle, his eyes dark and narrowed. There was something almost smug in the way he tilted his head, like he already knew exactly how much this was eating Jeff alive, how he could practically see right through his asshole demeanor.
He stared at Jeff long enough for the boy to sink back into himself a little, but not without rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he broke the stare down to glare out the window.
But then Tim turned and walked straight past you, his boots thumping on the floorboards as he headed down the short hallway toward the closet like he had all the time in the world.
You stayed seated for a beat, your heart suddenly kicking harder than it should.
Nina wasn’t having it. She popped up behind you with a bright, mischievous laugh and hooked her arms under yours, hauling you to your feet.
“Nope! Don’t be a baby, babe. Go on!”
She gave you a firm shove toward the direction Tim just went. A couple of the others whistled and clapped as you stumbled forward, but as you looked back one final time in anxiousness, all you saw was Jeff’s wide eyes watching you fade around the corner. In amongst the distraction, Brian had moved from his spot and was now leaning against the wall nearest the hall towards the closet. As you approached, he rummaged into his jacket pocket and fished out a silver flip lighter, pushing it into your hands before you could pass.
You looked down at it, feeling the cold weight in your hand, before looking at him—only for the blond to give you a very confusing nod before he let you go. You shoved it into your back pocket.
Tim was already at the closet door. He yanked it open, reached up, and pulled the chain for the single bare bulb dangling inside. Weak yellow light spilled out over the hanging coats and junk boxes, flumes of dust floated out, and you had to wave the air in front of your face to keep from coughing. He stepped aside, one hand still holding the door, and tilted his head toward the inside.
You hesitated. “Tim, I can just—”
“Get over yourself,” he cut you off, keeping his face flat and unreadable. Before you could retort again, he stepped in close, using his body to herd you forward until you were inside the cramped space. The door pulled shut behind him with a final click.
The muffled music and laughter from the living room dulled instantly, only the floorboard thumps under your shoes to keep you company.
Tim reached down and fiddled with the dials on his wristwatch, setting the timer with a few soft clicks. Seven minutes. The little hands began ticking immediately.
You both stood awkwardly about a foot and a half apart, your backs pressed against opposite walls of the cramped closet. You kept your eyes glued to the floor, occasionally fiddling with the hem of your shirt or picking at your fingernails. Tim, on the other hand, didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was watching you. His gaze was steadily honed on you, occasionally flicking toward the closed door like he was listening for footsteps or somebody snooping outside. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, digging around until he found his trusty pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and slid it between his lips like he always did.
Then he started patting his other pockets.
“Shit,” he grunted under his breath. “Left my lighter with Brian.”
“Oh, wait.”
You hesitated for a second before reaching into your back pocket and pulling out the worn silver lighter Brian had given you moments ago. You held it out to him without a word.
Tim’s eyes flicked down to the lighter, then back up to your face. A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took it from your fingers, his hand brushing yours.
He flicked it open, lit the cigarette, and took a long, deep drag. The tip glowed bright orange in the dim light. He exhaled a thick plume of smoke toward the ceiling, watching it curl and drift in the stale air, pockets of smog dancing like little ghosts around the lightbulb.
You raised an eyebrow. “You really think it’s smart to smoke in a closet this small?”
Tim shrugged one shoulder, completely unbothered. He took another drag, then lowered the cigarette, smoke pooling from between his lips as he spoke.
“Probably not.” His voice was gravelly. “But I've already decided to be in here with you. Might as well add this to the list of bad choices tonight.”
You laughed.
He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes never really leaving you. The smoke continued to drift lazily between the two of you, filling the small space with the sharp scent of tobacco.
You shifted your weight against the wall under the intensity of his stare, your arms loosely crossed. The smoke was already starting to make the small space feel even stuffier.
“Do you think Jeff’s gonna retaliate at all?” you asked one-offedly, reaching for anything to conversate about.
Tim took another slow drag, then exhaled through his nose. “No.”
He sounded sure. Almost bored.
“Jeff’s emotional and jealous and got a nasty fucking temper,” he continued, flicking ash onto the floor. “But if he’s actually mad, he’ll turn that shit on somebody else. He’s too scared to come at me.”
You let out a laugh, nodding. “Yeah… that sounds about right.”
Tim tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Why’re you concerned?”
“No reason,” you said quickly, shrugging. “Just… you two seem like you’re in some kind of secret competition. It’s weird.”
Tim went quiet for a long moment. He brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking two slow puffs while he thought. Smoke curled up between you like a hazy curtain.
“Maybe we are,” he finally admitted.
You shook your head. “You’re not the type to do childish shit like that.”
Tim let out a short, rough laugh, almost like he was surprised by your response.
“For the right person?” he said, “I might.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than moments before. The muffled noise from the living room seemed to fade even further away, only the cadence of the speakers thumping enough to let you know the party was still happening. You were both just… looking at each other.
Then Tim pulled the cigarette from his mouth and held it out to you, offering it between two fingers.
You took it carefully. When you brought it to your lips, you could still feel the warmth from his mouth on the filter. You took a puff, the smoke filling your lungs with that familiar burn.
Tim’s gaze stayed locked on your mouth, watching the way your lips wrapped around the same spot his had just been. His head tilted slightly, something unreadable shifting in his face as he tracked the motion.
When you lowered the cigarette and exhaled, he was still staring. So you stared right back at him, no longer pretending to study the floor.
Tim looked… different tonight, even if only slightly. His clothes were his usual thick jacket and jeans, but they were cleaner than normal, no random gunpowder smudges, no dirt or dried blood. His hair was a little more put together, and that ever-present stern, gruff expression sat heavy on his face like it always did.
It was nice seeing him without his mask amongst so many people, but that also meant that he couldn’t hide behind it, that he had to face you and everyone else with his whole self—no Masky there to save him.
“You’re being tense,” he said bluntly, breaking the silence.
“Well, yeah,” you answered, letting out a short breath.
Tim shrugged one shoulder, reaching out to take the cigarette from you and promptly taking two deep drags. “We’ve been alone together plenty of times before. This isn’t any different.”
“It is different,” you countered. “This isn't a mission or some supply run or something. This is… this.” You gestured vaguely at the cramped space left between you.
“I didn’t know context mattered that much to our relationship.”
You let out an awkward little laugh, shifting against the wall. “It’s funny you’re even calling it a relationship.”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
You just shook your head, laughing again under your breath, unsure how to answer. He was being so blunt tonight, more direct than usual, like the straightforwardness was a shield. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw kept flexing, but he wouldn’t relax. It was like he was ready to punch you and run at any moment, if he wasn’t going to yell at you first.
“…Are you nervous?” you asked quietly.
Tim didn’t answer right away. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist, studying the little ticking hands.
“Six minutes left,” he said instead, completely sidestepping the question.
You let out an awkward laugh and shook your head.
“It’s okay if you’re nervous, you know,” you told him. “This is weird, but it’s just a stupid game to embarrass everyone. It’s not serious.”
Tim’s eyes narrowed. “I know that.”
He passed the cigarette back. You brought it to your lips and inhaled, mostly just to give your hands something to do. The smoke filled your lungs, but it did nothing to ease the thick tension sitting between you, even if it did make you a little lightheaded.
The two of you kept staring at each other.
You finally spoke again. “Are you only playing because Jeff egged you on?”
Tim let out a dry laugh and looked down at his boots for a second before his gaze returned to yours.
“No,” he said simply. “I’m playing because I wanted to.”
“Why would you want to play something like this?”
“Why would you?” he asked, turning the question right back on you.
The air felt heavier. You swallowed. “I’m… not sure.”
Tim’s eyebrow lifted slightly.
“Really?” It seemed like he was almost teasing you.
You held his gaze for a long second, then let out a breath.
“No.”
He took the cigarette back when you offered it, but he didn’t bring it to his lips right away. He just kept watching you, smoke curling slowly from the tip.
The timer on his watch continued its quiet ticking. Five minutes left.
Tim finally spoke again. “Good. At least we’re being honest now.”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“You think I’m not being honest?”
Tim shook his head slowly. “Not with yourself.”
You let out a short, disbelieving breath. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re not being honest with what you want.”
“Oh, so you know what I want now?” you shot back, irritation rising fast. “You know what’s best for me?”
“Yeah,” he said simply, like it was obvious. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
That irritated you more than it should have. You pushed off the wall slightly, glaring up at him.
“You’re just being rude now, man.”
“You’ve never had a problem with my rudeness before.”
“Context,” you muttered, reiterating the idea he couldn’t seem to grasp.
“Ah, yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Context.” He took one last drag before dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his boot. “Like the context of Jeff pretending he’s got some kind of claim over you… and you going along with it.”
Your stomach twisted. “Jeff does not have a claim over me.”
The words had barely left your mouth before Tim took a single, big step forward.
The already cramped closet shrank instantly. He loomed over you, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the weak light from the bulb overhead. The smell of smoke and pine and that familiar warm scent that always clung to him filled the air between you, almost overwhelming you. You pressed your back against the wall once again.
He stared down at you, almost looming.
“Then who does?”
His face was close now, close enough that you could see the thick stubble on his jaw and the tired lines at the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t touching you, but the sheer presence of him made your back press harder against the wall.
You glared up at him, your heart kicking against your ribs as the silence stretched, but after a long moment, you finally answered.
“Nobody.”
You caught it.
For just a split second, Tim’s dark eyes flicked down to your mouth as you said the word, watching the shape of it on your lips. He snapped them back up to yours almost immediately, probably hoping you didn’t catch it. But you did.
You swallowed, then added, “Not even Slenderman.”
Tim let out a short, rough laugh.
“He wouldn’t like hearing you say that too much.”
“Well…” you tilted your head slightly, still staring up at him, “he’s not here, is he?”
This time, Tim didn’t even try to hide it. His gaze dropped to your mouth again and stayed there longer. You watched his jaw flex, the muscle ticking under the skin as his eyes traced the curve of your lips.
It felt like it was getting harder to breathe.
When his eyes finally dragged back up to yours, they seemed darker than before.
“No,” he murmured. “He’s not.”
Before you could say anything more, Tim reached into his jacket pocket again, pulling out the same pack of cigarettes.
You huffed. “Seriously? It’s been, what, two minutes since your last one. Can you really not take a break?”
He didn’t answer. He just shook another cigarette out, lit it with the same silver lighter you’d handed him earlier, and took two puffs. The tip burned bright orange, and exhaled the smoke through his nose.
Then his hand moved.
He reached out and clasped your jaw firmly, his thick fingers pressing into your cheeks and smooshing them together until your lips puckered. Your hand flew up on instinct, grabbing his wrist and tugging down, but he didn’t budge an inch. His grip was strong.
“Tim—” your voice was a little muffled against the strain of his grip. For a second you wondered if you’d actually pissed him off.
“Open.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Open your mouth.”
You searched his face, looking for any sign that he was joking, but there was nothing playful there. You didn’t know if you could laugh out of caution of making him more mad, so… you did what you were told.
When he was satisfied, Tim leaned in and placed the lit cigarette between your puckered lips, then used his thumb to close your mouth around it.
“You know what to do,” he murmured.
He didn’t let go of your jaw.
You had no choice but to inhale. You took a normal, comfortable drag, the smoke filling your lungs before you exhaled it through your nose. You stared up at him, confused, waiting for some kind of explanation. Was this supposed to be degrading? Some weird power move? Or some weird one-off joke that you’ve never known him to make?
But his grip stayed firm on your cheeks, and his expression didn’t change. He didn’t look satisfied.
You started to squirm, pawing at his arm. “Tim—”
“More,” he said.
You tried to speak around the cigarette, fumbling the filter between your teeth. “What’s happening right now—”
He stepped even closer, one of his boots planting between your feet so your legs were forced to part slightly. His other hand came up to tilt your chin higher, making you look straight up into his face. The overhead light cast harsh shadows over his stern features.
“Keep going,” he grunted.
You furrowed your brows, but obeyed, taking another drag. Then another. He watched every inhale with utmost interest.
“C’mon,” he said quietly, almost coaxing you. “Don’t stop.”
You inhaled again, deeper this time, pulling harder on the cigarette. The smoke burned hotter going down. Your head started to feel light.
“Again,” he continued. “As much as you can.”
You kept going, breath after breath, the nicotine hitting harder with every pull. Your vision began to swim. A heavy, dizzy fog rolled over your mind as the rush flooded your system. Your knees felt weak. The hand you had on his arm tightened, trying to steady yourself as the world tilted slightly.
Tim’s grip on your jaw stayed iron-still, holding you in place while he watched your face closely, seeing every detail of your flushed cheeks and drooping eyes and your steadily relaxing muscles.
“That’s it,” he muttered, soothing, almost. “One more. Big one.”
You whimpered softly around the cigarette, head spinning badly now, but you did it anyway. You pulled long and deep until your lungs were burning and the dizziness crashed over you like a wave. The nicotine buzz was overwhelming and sharp and heady, and making everything feel floaty and too warm.
Tim finally pulled the cigarette from between your lips.
You immediately exhaled hard, right into his face—a thick cloud of smoke rushing out as you tried to empty your burning lungs. The motion triggered a coughing fit. Your eyes watered, your vision became blurry, and you felt completely dizzy and messy, probably looking a little disheveled.
But Tim kept his hand firmly on your jaw, holding your face in place. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched you struggle, not out of malice but he was clearly satisfied now.
Your head was still swimming badly. You tried to steady yourself, taking shaky, deep breaths of the thick, smoggy air in the tiny closet. The nicotine buzz was intense, making everything feel too floaty and too warm and too out of your body.
“Tim… I feel really dizzy,” you managed, a little breathless.
You heard him chuckle, “I know.”
His thumb slowly dragged across your bottom lip, wiping away the spit that had gathered there from coughing and your heavy breathing. His eyes followed the motion.
Then, without warning, he brought the cigarette back to his own mouth, took one long, final drag, and dropped it to the floor. He crushed it under his boot right next to the first one.
Before you could even catch your breath, Tim leaned down and kissed you.
He grabbed both sides of your face with his rough hands, holding you firmly as he brought your faces together. Your hands shot up and pressed against his chest, bracing yourself against the embarrassment that was breaking through your mental haze. This was ridiculous. It was some weird, controlling kink thing… but your brain wasn’t working well enough to care.
All you could focus on was how warm his hands felt against your cheeks and how good his mouth felt on yours.
Then his tongue pushed past your lips, and he breathed the smoke from his lungs into your mouth.
The sudden rush made your head spin all over again. You let out a muffled groan and gripped the front of his jacket tighter, your fingers twisting into the thick fabric. Tim responded by dropping his hands to your waist and yanking your body flush against his.
Oh.
He was hard. You could feel him clearly through his jeans, pressed against your lower stomach. For a split second, nervousness flared in your chest.
Should you be nervous? Probably.
But the thought dissolved almost as quickly as it came.
Fuck it.
You kissed him back harder, desperate to feel something solid amongst all of your dizziness. Tim groaned in his throat and tilted your head, kissing you like he was starving for it, like this was all he’d ever wanted.
It became too much.
The smoke, the nicotine, the heat of his body—you couldn’t breathe. You pushed against his chest with both hands. Tim pulled back just enough for you both to gasp for air.
Thick smoke wafted out of both of your mouths, curling between your faces and up into the muggy air. You noted how Tim’s face looked, how the smoke parted around his jaw and up above the dark hair in his head. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. His hands stayed locked on your waist, but his chest rose and fell rhythmically under your palms.
It was getting hard to tell if Tim had always looked this good, or if the overwhelming amount of nicotine in your bloodstream was making your brain go numb.
But after a minute of panting, you felt your senses returning—most notably, the loud pulse of the music from the living room vibrating through the walls and into your shaky bones. You slowly started regaining your steadiness, the dizzy fog beginning to lift. Tim slid a flat palm up your back.
“Deep breaths,” he hums.
You obeyed without thinking, too deep in whatever headspace he’d pushed you into to pretend it didn’t feel ridiculously good. Each inhale felt almost euphoric, your chest rising and falling as you breathed in the thick, smoky air. You gripped the shoulders of his jacket, and after a moment you noticed he was breathing in time with you, drinking down fresh air as you did.
You glanced up at his face. The usual stern mask he wears had fallen into something lazier, almost hazy. He looked a little lost just staring at you with his half-lidded eyes.
When you blinked long enough to reset your vision, you met his eyes again, and he began to lean in toward your lips, his eyes dropping to your mouth in time with his movement. You let him come to you, tilting your chin up to meet him—
His watch started beeping sharply under his sleeve, knocking the moment right off kilter.
You both jerked back, staring at each other like you’d completely forgotten why you were even in the closet in the first place. Whatever obnoxious spell you both were under vanished. From outside, the music in the living room suddenly cut off. You could hear laughter and the sound of people scrambling down the hallway toward you.
Tim stepped back, putting space between you again. He adjusted his jeans, and tried his best to smooth his jacket out. By the time the door flew open, you were both standing roughly where you started with your backs against opposite walls, trying (and failing) to look casual.
The closet door swung open and you were immediately hit with fresh air and very nosy faces.
Toby’s was the only one you registered, though. The thick cloud of smoke rolled out past them into the hallway. He wrinkled his nose dramatically, grimacing at you two.
“J-Jesus, man,” he laughed. “You’re really smm-smoking in h-here? In a fucking clo-closet?”
Tim just blew air through his nose, clearly unimpressed. He shoved Toby’s head to the side and stepped out, brushing past the group without another word. He didn’t even glance back at you before heading down the hall.
You tried to follow, but Toby’s eyes locked onto you and he let out a shrill laugh.
“Ho-ly shit. You don’t loo-look too hah-hot right now.”
“Shut up,” you groaned, brushing past him as he started firing off questions.
“What’d h-he do? D-Did he make yo-you cry? Why do you smell like an ahh-ashtray? Wait—did you guys actually do an-anything or—”
You ignored him and made a beeline for the kitchen, desperate for something cold to drink. Your head was still swimmy and light, the nicotine making everything feel slightly tilted as you stumbled through the still-trashed house.
You passed Tim on the way. He had already found his usual spot right next to Brian, the two of them leaning against the wall like they were physically incapable of being more than three feet apart for more than ten minutes. Tim’s eyes flicked to you as you walked by, but he didn’t say anything. Brian, however, didn’t take his eyes off of you as you passed, gathering all the information he needed just from the state of you.
You yanked open the fridge, grabbed the first beer you saw, and popped it open. You drank nearly half of it in one go, the cold yeasty liquid soothing your raw throat and helping ground you a little.
Unfortunately, you weren’t alone for long.
Toby wandered in after you, Natalie right beside him and EJ trailing quietly behind them. The three of them formed a little triangle, watching you like a very nosy, very abrasive little troupe of bastards.
Most of the party in the living room had devolved into loud chugging contests and some money-gambling version of Go Fish that involved way too many rules and even more yelling. You were grateful almost everyone else was too distracted to notice how obviously rattled you were—except for these dipshits.
Toby leaned on the island counter, grinning wide enough to make your blood boil a bit. “So… you guh-gonna tell us what hah-happened in there or do w-we have to guess?”
Natalie tilted her head. “You look like you just got punched in the face… but, like, not in a bad way.”
You opened your mouth, ready to snap something mean and defensive, but before you could get it out, Brian walked into the kitchen.
“Alright, that’s enough,” he waved a hand at the trio. “Move along. Go have your little orgy somewhere else and leave people alone.”
Jack let out a raspy little laugh, which was rare enough that it surprised you into laughing too. Toby whined dramatically but let Natalie tug him away. The three of them shuffled out, Toby still throwing questions over his shoulder until they disappeared back toward the living room and out of your field of vision.
Once they were gone, Brian opened the fridge, rummaged through the junk and pulled out a beer for himself, then popped the tab. He leaned against the counter across from you and took a sip as he studied your face, which you were trying very hard to make seem normal.
“You alright?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, sipping at your beer if only to give your hands something to do. “Yeah… just a little… shaken up.”
Brian gave an understanding nod. “Tim can be a little intense sometimes. He’s either completely honed in or not interested at all. Sometimes he forgets that not everybody is like that, too.”
Your face burned with embarrassment, but if there was anyone you could talk to about this, it was Brian. He knew Tim better than anyone.
You tapped the cold glass of the bottle in your hands for a second, then asked, “Do you think he only did it because he was pissed about Jeff?”
Brian shook his head immediately.
“Nah. Tim doesn’t work like that. Jeff’s just an annoying, loud mouth kid to him. He doesn’t lose his head over shit like that.”
You stared down at your beer, chewing on your lip. “Then… why?”
Brian took another sip, then jerked his chin toward the back door.
“He’s out on the porch right now. And—he’s not smoking.” Brian raised his eyebrows. “When Tim’s not smoking, it means he’s thinking. Thinking real hard.”
He pushed off the counter, nodding toward the fridge.
“Go take him a beer. That’ll ease him up.”
You watched Brian disappear back into the living room, then immediately pressed the cold beer bottle against your forehead and closed your eyes. The chill helped a little, but your stomach was still doing nervous flips. Not scared-of-Tim flips. Just stupid, schoolgirl-crush, heart-in-your-throat flips. Barf. It was embarrassing as hell.
“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself.
You popped open the fridge again, grabbed the last beer, and started heading for the back porch.
But the second you reached the kitchen doorway, you froze.
Jeff was standing there, leaning against the frame, and blocking your path. He didn’t say a word. Just stared at you. And it was so… unreadable. His eyes flicked over your face, your slightly messy hair, the flush still lingering on your cheeks.
You stared right back.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. For a moment it felt like neither of you would move, but for as much ruckus as Jeff had caused tonight, you were more-than-willing to be rid of him right now. You had bigger things on your plate.
You squared your shoulders and shoved past him, knocking his arm out of the way with your shoulder.
He didn’t try to stop you.
You moved quickly through the hallway, the noise of the party fading behind you as you pushed through the back door and stepped out onto the wrap-around back porch.
The night air was cooler out here compared to the thick mug of coffee alcohol and smoke inside, trading the damp smells for fresh pines and wet dirt. Most of the party had moved or stayed inside, so the porch was vacant for the most part. But at the far end, where the railing curved into shadows and no one could see if they didn’t come outside, stood Tim.
He was leaning forward on the railing, staring out into the dark tree line like he was looking for something. He didn’t turn when he heard the door open. He didn’t glance over as your shoes creaked across the wooden planks. But you knew that he knew it was you.
You walked up and stopped beside him, setting the unopened beer on the railing near his hand, little beads of condensation dripping onto the wood.
For a few seconds, there was only the sound of crickets and the low hum from inside. You looked out into the treeline too, seeing how the dark shadows gave way to a black void beyond where the porch lights could reach. There were so many creatures and monsters out there, but none of them even came close to shaking your nerves like the man standing right next to you.
“Hey.”
Tim finally turned his head, his eyes sliding over to meet yours.
Tim’s stare had always been like iron, so sharp and guarded and prickling with intensity that kept almost everyone at arm’s length. But right now it looked… weary? Tired in a way that seemed deeper than just the late hour and the shitty beer.
Then his gaze dropped to the bottle in your hand.
“What’s this?”
“Peace offering,” you said, pushing it toward him a little further. “You looked like you could use one.”
Tim looked at you again, then at the bottle, before taking it. He twisted the cap off and took a long pull. Almost immediately his face twisted and he huffed through his nose.
“Jesus Christ, that’s awful.”
You couldn’t help but smile as you took another drink from your own. For a while, the two of you just leaned against the railing side by side, listening to the crickets and the distant rustle of the woods. The party noises inside felt miles away.
Eventually Tim huffed again, almost like he was annoyed with himself.
“I’m sorry for overstepping in there,” he said quietly. “I got lost in the theatrics of it all.”
You shook your head. “I would’ve told you to stop if I didn’t like it.”
…
You both caught it at the same time—the admission, the way it lingered. Your eyes met again.
Tim turned his head fully toward you, that weary look sharpening into something more focused.
“Did you like it?” he asked, and it’s like the words turned to static as they reached your ears.
You looked down at your shoes for a minute.
It had thrown you off, sure. The tightness of the space, the weird dynamic between you two, even the sheer amount of embarrassment from having to play this game at all made your brain feel like mush. But you couldn’t deny it.
It felt good.
The dizziness. The way your head went fuzzy and floaty. The way he took control of you completely and didn’t let you hide from it. The way every thought in your brain is stamped out the moment oxygen is absent from you.
Yeah… it felt good. A lot better than you were ever going to admit.
You took a big drink to buy yourself time for something witty to say, only to realize you’d already finished the entire bottle and there were only droplets left. You sighed and met his stare again.
“It’s a weird question,” you grimaced with an awkward little laugh.
Tim didn’t laugh with you.
He pushed off of the railing and stepped closer, close enough that you were suddenly the same distance apart as you’d been in that stupid closet. And who would’ve thought, but the fresh air out here suddenly became thicker in your lungs too.
His free hand lifted slowly. You watched it rise, your heart kicking off its rapid thumps like shoes in a washing machine once again. His fingers brushed the side of your neck first, and he was sure to feel the goosebumps that were rising there, before they slid from their position to lace around either side of your throat. His palm rested just under your chin.
You stalled completely. Went stock-still.
Heat flooded your face so fast you were sure you looked ridiculous. That familiar, stupid nervousness rushed back over you like a wave, making your breath catch and the tips of your fingers feel numb.
“Do you know your answer now?” he grumbled.
You stared up at him, completely dumbfounded. The words wouldn’t come. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Before you could find your voice, Tim reached down with his free hand and pried the empty beer bottle you’d forgotten about from your fingers. He set it on the railing beside his own, then closed the last bit of distance between you until your noses almost bumped.
His fingers flexed against the sides of your neck, applying the easiest amount of pressure to your airway.
You gasped sharply and your hands flew up on instinct, grabbing his wrist tightly.
“Is this okay?” he murmured.
You didn’t answer right away. The pressure made your breath go shallow, a warm, heavy feeling blooming in your head. It wasn’t painful—just intense. Overwhelming. Your pulse hammered against his palm.
After a second, you gave him a small nod.
That was all he needed.
Tim leaned in and kissed you, his beer-tasting lips sliding to meet yours, while his hand squeezed a little harder around your throat. It pinpointed your senses onto him—onto how labored he was making your breaths, how fuzzy he was making you feel, how warm and mushy and light all at once.
You whimpered against his mouth, the sound embarrassingly whiny and needy as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your fingers tightened around his wrist, doing little to keep yourself afloat as your knees weakened.
Tim’s other hand slid down and grabbed your hip firmly, fingers digging in as he pulled you tighter against him.
You tilted your head up further, sliding your hands from his wrist all the way up to the collar of his jacket. You tugged at him, yanking his chest flush against yours. Tim grunted, growling into the kiss and pushing his tongue between your lips, invading your senses.
Things started to get muggy really quick.
His hand around your throat tightened just enough to make your airway feel suddenly shallow. Every breath came out smaller, sweeter, turning your little gasps and whines into something embarrassingly needy between kisses. The more you whimpered, the more Tim chuckled warmly against your mouth.
He finally pulled back just enough for you to gasp in a proper breath, but his hand stayed glued around your throat firmly. Spit glistened on your swollen lips. You were the picture of bliss right now with your hazy eyes and flushed cheeks and lightheaded demeanor. Tim studied your face for a second, then shook his head slightly, like he wasn’t satisfied.
“You’re still too coherent,” he grumbled.
His hand left your hip and rose to your mouth. His thumb traced slowly around your wet lips, smearing the spit across them until they shone. Then he pushed his thumb between your parted lips, sliding it over your tongue.
You tasted the salt of his skin and sighed.
He gently bobbed his thumb in and out of your mouth, teasing, his eyes locked on the sight. You wrapped your lips around it instinctively and started licking, swirling your tongue under the pad of his thumb like it wasn’t completely desperate and embarrassing.
The effect on Tim was immediate, though.
“Fuck…” He pressed his thumb deeper for a moment, then pulled it out slowly, dragging it across your bottom lip. His hand around your throat flexed again, applying that perfect amount of pressure that made your head swim even more and your blinking grow more rapid.
“You have no idea what you look like right now.” His hips pressed forward against you, letting you feel exactly how hard he was. “How good you look.”
Tim dipped his thumb back into your mouth, sliding it slowly over your tongue. Without thinking, you started bobbing your head, sucking on it with gently eager pulls.
“Good job,” his voice dripped with approval.
The words hit you like a spark to dry tinder. Your stomach flipped, heat flooding low in your belly.
He pulled his thumb out, dragging it across your bottom lip and leaving your mouth open and wet. Then he latched his mouth back into yours, kissing you deeply while his hand squeezed tighter.
You moaned into his mouth, the sound snagged as your air began to dissipate.
The kiss turned heated, your tongues sliding hot and messy, teeth nipping each other's lips, both of you breathing hard through it. Tim growled against you, devouring every little sound you gave him.
He pulled back just enough to speak. “If you wanted this the whole time, you could’ve just asked, sweetheart.”
Then his grip on your throat tightened hard.
Your eyes widened. A sharp, shrill sound escaped you as your airflow suddenly cut off completely. Your hands flew back to his wrist, gripping tight. Your eyes fluttered with tears and rolled slightly as the pressure built fast in your head.
“That’s it,” he kept his voice steady. “Don’t be too loud now, can’t have anybody seeing what a mess you are, now can we?”
In your haze, everything felt overwhelming. The rush of blood making your face burn hot. The tight, rigid tension in your body. The floating sensation in your head. It was turning you on so badly you could barely think, could barely keep tabs on the rest of your body.
So, you gave in.
Your body went a little limp in his hold, trusting him, melting against his chest. Failed little breaths turned into choked, whimpering moans that rumbled against his palm. Your thighs pressed together as heat throbbed between them horribly. Tim groaned in time with your sounds, pressing his hard cock against your hip and grinding away, letting you feel how much this was affecting him too.
“Does it feel good?” his lips brushed your cheek as he kissed you almost tenderly. “You can let go. I’ve got you, doll.”
You were clawing at his wrist now, not to pull him off, but because the pressure in your head kept building at a staggering rate, a bright white heat spreading through your senses, numbing everything else. It felt so fucking good. So freeing. Like every nerve in your body was lit up and floating at the same time.
You felt warm lines of tears roll down your cheeks.
“Awh… poor thing,” he breathed. “Don’t you know anybody could walk around this porch right now and see you? Anyone can see what a… fuck… what a mess you are.”
He stilled up after he said that, like he realized something, like he just had the air punched out of him.
Then he finally let go.
The rush of air back into your lungs hit you like a truck. You coughed violently, your chest doing great swoops as you gasped and choked, desperately trying to pull oxygen back in and getting interrupted by your own coughs. Your legs buckled, but Tim caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you upright against his chest.
He grumbled his support through it, “There you go. Take it easy.”
When you finally felt steady enough, you lifted your head from its position of staring blearily down at your shoes. Your cheeks were wet with tears, and you could still feel the mess of spit on your swollen lips. The embarrassment tries to wash over you, but is ultimately overpowered by the thumping ache in your stomach and head.
Tim tilted your chin up with his thumb, studying your face carefully.
“You alright?” he asked, glancing from one eye to the other, registering how much wider your pupils had become.
You took a shaky second, then nodded. “…Yeah.”
It was silent for a moment, before you both spoke again:
“You satisfi—?”
“Can you do it again?”
Tim groaned. “Fuck.”
He grabbed your arm and tugged you backward along the porch, moving you both around the corner of the house where the wrap-around deck tucked against the wall. It was much more private here—someone would have to step fully outside and round the corner to see you.
The second you were hidden from view, Tim’s hands landed on your shoulders and pushed you down.
Your knees hit the wooden planks without any resistance. The dizziness was back full tilt, so you swayed a little as you settled, fighting the fog in your head to look up at him. Tim towered over you, broad and dark against the night sky, the porch light casting sharp shadows across his burly face.
Jesus Christ, he’s hot as fuck.
He stared down at you for a moment, breathing harder now, his chest rising and falling in big pulses. He brought both hands to either side of your face, cupping your cheeks and curling his fingers under your jaw. His thumbs brushed over your tear-streaked skin, wiping some of it away.
You broke eye contact and looked straight ahead, right at your eye level.
Fuck.
Tim’s bulge was obvious, straining hard against the front of his jeans, the thick outline pulsing slightly with his heartbeat. Your lips parted on a shaky gasp. Even with your vision still a little blurry from the lack of oxygen, it was so evident, you couldn’t look away. Your mouth watered.
You wanted it. Horribly.
Tim slid one hand to the back of your head, cupping it to keep your limp, oxygen-deprived body from tipping over. Your skin felt prickly all over, your nerves buzzing and firing off in little shivers.
You dragged your gaze back up to his face, swallowing hard.
“I want it,” you whispered, your voice so small you barely even heard it.
Tim’s lips curved into a grin, his eyebrows raising in mock question. The sight of it made your stomach flip.
“Yeah?” he murmured, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You want it so bad… then you’re gonna have to take it for yourself.”
Your eyes dropped back down in front of you, then up to his belt. Your hands felt weak, but you raised them anyway and you worked at his belt buckle, the metal clinking as you pulled the leather through the clasps, fighting to get it open.
Tim didn’t help you. He just stood there, letting you struggle with the button and zipper, punctuating every step of the way with little sighs or grunts of approval.
“That’s it,” he said when you finally got the zipper down. “Go on, then. Show me what you want.”
Tim leaned his shoulders back against the side of the house, the wood creaking under his weight as he rolled his hips forward just slightly, like he was offering himself to you—or asking you to hurry up—you weren’t sure.
He was wearing dark navy boxers, and right at the tip of the very prominent bulge there was a small, damp spot where the fabric clung to him. Heart hammering, you shifted higher on your knees. Your hands were still shaky from the lack of oxygen earlier, but you reached up anyway, curling your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. His skin was warm, almost hot, under your fingertips. You noticed the dark trail of hair starting just below his navel, leading down and disappearing beneath the fabric.
You swallowed hard and tugged his boxers down.
The second you pulled them past his hips, his cock sprang free, so heavy, bobbing once right in front of your face.
Oh my god.
He was big. Not porn-star scumbag long, but thick like the rest of his body, girthy in a way that made your stomach tighten with nervous excitement. The flushed head was already glistening with pre-cum, a shiny bead forming at the slit and threatening to drip right there in front of your lips. He was thickest in the middle, the length curving a bit where a prominent vein snaked the underside, throbbing every few moments. You could see it twitch slightly in time with his pulse. All to lead to a dark, messy patch of hair at his pelvis.
Everything felt hazy. You were a little awestruck and more than a little intimidated.
Tim let out a relieved huff when his cock finally fell free, almost like he’d been holding his breath. You could feel the heat rolling off him, smell the musk of his skin and the air from the night. Your thighs pressed together instinctively as another wave of dizzy heat washed through you.
Tim’s voice groveled from above you, “You gonna just stare at it all night?”
There was a punch of amusement in his tone, but mostly it was strained, like he was trying very hard to stay patient while you knelt before him, wide-eyed and visibly overwhelmed.
His cock gave another twitch right in front of you, another bead of pre-cum forming at the tip.
“I… I’ve never… I mean—”
Tim chuckled. “Use your words.”
You swallowed over the lump in your throat, your cheeks burning hotter. “I’m nervous,” you mumbled. “I’ve never done… this before.”
Tim raised an eyebrow, tilting his head so he was looking down the bridge of his nose at you. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Nobody’s used this mouth before?” he asked, almost disbelieving.
He slid his hand from the back of your head to cup under your chin, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip before tugging it down and parting your lips for him. His brows furrowed as he stared at your open mouth.
You licked your lips nervously. “Will you… be easy?”
Tim let out a chuckle, the sound warm in his chest.
“As much as I can be,” he grinned.
Then both of his hands moved to either side of your head, cupping your jaw and cheeks. You placed your hands over his, clutching his fingers tightly as he guided your head forward. Your heartbeat was so violent in your chest you thought he’d be able to hear it.
“Open up.”
You parted your lips wider, your eyes fixed on his tip as it disappeared under your nose and he eased the head past them. The tip bumped your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum spreading across your mouth. You let out a shaky breath through your nose, squeezing his hands harder.
The thick head of his cock slid over your tongue as he pushed in slowly. You opened your mouth wider on instinct, trying to make room for him. He tasted warm and a little gritty, exactly like how he always smelled naturally. Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to relax your jaw, breathing quickly through your nose.
Tim let out a groan above you, “Fuck… so wet,” his voice tight with restraint.
He angled your head a little more with both hands and pushed forward again. The tip bumped against the roof of your mouth, making you jerk slightly. Tim hissed through his teeth.
“Watch your teeth, sweetheart.”
He adjusted the angle and pushed a little deeper. You felt your lips stretch around him as roughly the first third of his length filled your mouth. It was a lot and heavy on your tongue, stretching your jaw in a way that made your head spin even more.
You ran your tongue slowly along the sensitive underside of the head, licking at the leaking slit.
“Shit—” Tim cursed sharply, his hips twitching forward on their own.
He shifted his weight, steadying himself against the wall, then tugged your head back and forth, bobbing you along the first few inches of his cock. The motion was slow, letting you get used to the size and weight of him.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Just like that. Relax your jaw… good. Suck a little harder when I pull you forward—mmh—yeah, fuck, just like that.”
He guided your head forward and back, daring to pull you a little deeper on his length every time.
“Easy now,” he instructed, stroking your cheek. “Don’t try to take too much yet. Just focus on relaxing—good. Yeah. You’re doing good.”
You could feel his hesitance in how he grabbed you, how he was holding himself stiff to not jar you too roughly. But you asked for this, so he shouldn’t hold back for your sake.
So when he pulled your head back, you scrunched your brows and pushed forward instead, taking more of him into your mouth. Tim groaned, his thumbs pressing harder into your cheeks as you stretched your lips wider around his size. Nearly halfway now.
You coughed around him, your eyes watering as he filled your mouth so completely. The stretch burned pleasantly at the corners of your lips and your jaw ached from the awkward stretch, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let go of his wrists. One hand braced against his pelvis, feeling the tense muscle straining there, while the other wrapped around the thick base of his cock and gave a tentative squeeze.
Tim cursed sharply under his breath, his thumbs digging harder into your cheeks. “There you go,” he grunted.
You leaned in and took him deeper, sucking on the first half of his length as best you could. The hand wrapped around his base made it easier to angle him, letting you slide your lips further down his shaft. You bobbed your head slowly, trying to find a rhythm, your tongue pressing and sliding along the underside as you worked him.
Tim's hips tried to buck forward before he caught himself.
“Shit… you sure you’ve never done this before?” he breathed, staring down at you. “You’re a fucking natural.”
He slid one hand into your hair, gripping just tight enough to guide you, and started pulling your head back and forth rhythmically. You let him set it, relaxing your jaw as much as you could while your hand continued stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach. Your spit was already coating him, making everything slick and messy, dripping down his shaft as your tongue ran over every inch you could reach.
Tim’s breathing grew ragged, broken up by low grunts and curses every time you sucked harder or swirled your tongue around the sensitive head.
“That’s it… ahh—fuck,” he murmured when you choked a little. “Who would’ve thought you’d be this good.”
He rocked his hips in time with the movement of your head, fucking shallowly into your mouth while his fingers stayed tangled in your hair. The obscene wet sounds coming from your mouth were the only noise rivaling the crickets and bugs in the woods, besides Tim’s heavy breathing and the mumbled jump of music from inside. Please let it be loud enough so nobody can hear, you thought.
You tried to take more of him, pushing forward eagerly, but the thick head of his cock nudged against the entrance of your throat and you immediately choked, coughing hard around him. You had to pull back, gasping with watery eyes.
Frustration burned in your chest. You wanted this—wanted him—so you tried again, forcing yourself deeper. Same result. Your throat closed up, and you gagged, pulling back with a wet, embarrassing sound.
One more try. You opened wider, shoved your face forward, and immediately choked again. Lewd, messy noises spilled from your throat as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.
Tim’s hands tightened on the sides of your head.
“Easy,” he cooed. “Slow down, doll. You’re pushing too hard.”
He guided you back until just the swollen tip rested on your tongue. You sucked on it obediently, apologetically, swirling your tongue over the leaking slit, tasting the salty pre-cum that kept dribbling out. Tim let out a moan, gritting his teeth as he watched.
You tried again anyway, your jaw aching in protest as you shoved forward, furrowing your brows in concentration. The wet sounds that came out of you were filthy. Tim groaned again, but this time he pulled you off completely, his cock slipping from your lips with a slick pop.
You gasped for air, spit and tears smeared across your chin and cheeks as you recollected your senses. Tim wiped at your face with his thumb, smearing the mess even more as he looked down at you.
“You’re doing perfectly,” he strained. “What’s the matter?”
You swallowed, still catching your breath, staring at his throbbing, spit-slick cock hovering in front of you—which you wanted so desperately.
“I want you to go harder,” you choked over a hoarse voice.
“You’ve barely started. You need to get comfortable first—”
“I don’t care,” you cut in, looking up at him with watery eyes. “I want you to use me. Like how you choked me earlier… I want to feel that. I want you to make me feel that way.”
Tim stalled, staring down at you. His cock gave a big twitch right in front of your face, drooling another thick bead of pre-cum that slowly dripped down the shaft. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the careful, controlled part of him warring with raw want.
Then something in his expression shifted.
He reached down and planted his hand firmly on the crown of your head, his fingers curling tight into your hair. He jerked your head back so you were looking straight up at him. His face was dark now, eyes laden with lust.
“I’ll tell you what to do,” he gripped. “But you listen to me. You fight me and you’ll hurt yourself. Understand?”
You nodded quickly, your heart racing.
Tim gripped the base of his cock with his other hand and pulled your head forward. He tapped the glistening tip against your bottom lip a few times, teasing the spit that gleamed there.
“Open.”
You parted your lips obediently, slipping your tongue out to meet him. He slid the head into your mouth, letting you close your lips around it. Then his hand moved to the back of your head, planting a base there.
“Relax,” he ordered. “Don’t fight it.”
Before you could even nod, he pushed forward, sliding deep in one smooth thrust until the head bumped the back of your mouth and pressed against the entrance of your throat. You gagged instantly, but he pulled back just as fast, only to push in again, setting a relentless rhythm.
“Oh, there we go,” he grumbled through his pleasure. “Good fucking girl. Just let me use this pretty mouth.”
Tim didn’t hold back anymore.
He tightened his grip in your hair and started fucking your mouth with punctuated thrusts, his hips snapping forward to push deeper into the wet heat of your mouth with deep grunts and growls. You grabbed onto his jean-clad thighs for balance, digging your fingers into the rough fabric as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best not to fight the constant intrusion despite how your body wanted to.
Every forward snap of his hips made his belt buckle jingle beside your ear. Lewd gags and choked little noises escaping you with every thrust as the thick head of his cock battered the back of your mouth.
“Fuck…” Tim hissed through gritted teeth, tugging your hair. “That’s it—just take it. Christ, your mouth feels so goddamn good.”
He moaned when you gagged harder around him, his hips stuttering for a second before he pushed in again, a little deeper this time.
“Shit—easy, sweetheart, easy,” he panted, even as he kept thrusting. “I know it’s a lot—mmh—but your choking is so pretty. C’mon, try again.”
You grunted around him with every deep push, spit dripping down your chin as your throat convulsed. Tears slipped freely down your cheeks now, but you didn’t pull away. You held onto his thighs tighter, trying to take deep breaths of air through your nose whenever he pulled back.
Tim cursed under his breath, half at you, half at himself.
“Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this to you… not like this—ah, shit—” He groaned loudly as you swallowed around him. “But you feel too fucking good. This greedy little mouth… sucking me like you were made for it.”
Tim slowed his hips, easing you forward until just the thick middle of his cock rested between your lips. He let you suck him slowly, dragging your wrapped lips from the middle of his shaft all the way up to the swollen, leaking tip.
“Relax,” he sighed. “Don’t fight it. You’re gonna take all of me.”
A sharp jolt of nervousness shot through you like electricity, but it only made the heat between your legs throb harder. You blinked slowly with glassy eyes, and nodded around him.
He cupped the back of your head firmer. “Lean your head back a little… yeah, just like that. Open wider for me, doll. Relax your throat. Let me give you what you want.”
You did as he said, tilting your head back and opening your mouth as wide as you could, sucking gently on the tip while your tongue swirled around it.
Tim started pushing in again. This time he didn’t stop where he had before.
You felt the prominent vein along his shaft slide over your tongue as he fed more of his thick cock into your mouth. Your jaw ached from the stretch, especially when he reached the widest part of him. You coughed around his length as the head pressed firmly against the tight entrance of your throat.
“Easy… easy,” Tim breathed, holding you still. “Just breathe through your nose.”
He abused that spot, shallowly fucking the head of his cock against the beginning of your throat with small, insistent nudges that made you gag and choke wetly around him. Spit dripped down your chin in messy strings.
“Relax your throat,” he grit out. “Let me in. Come on, sweetheart, open up for me. I know you can take it.”
You whimpered around his cock, tears slipping down your cheeks again, but you tried—focusing on his voice, on relaxing your throat even as your body instinctively fought the intrusion, on every buzzing nerve in your head.
He pushed forward again, feeding more of his thick cock past the uncooperative ring of muscle at the back of your throat. The stretch burned, and you choked around him, again and again, but Tim didn’t pull back.
“C’mon,” he growled. “Let it happen.”
You tried. God, you tried. But the deeper he went, the harder it became. It was like he was pushing into your brain. You couldn’t tell if you were more frustrated that you weren’t being choked on his cock, or that him choking you like this wasn’t working.
“Look at me.”
You forced your watery eyes to peel open and up to his. The intensity in his stare was almost too much—you had nowhere else to look. Only his tan skin, dark hair, and everything you never knew you wanted so badly.
“Just focus here,” he muttered. “Keep lookin’ at me.”
He kept pushing, inch by inch, until the widest part of his cock forced its way past that tight ring. Your throat spasmed violently around him. You coughed and gagged, your body jerking and trying to pull away, but Tim held your head firmly in place, refusing to let you pull away.
“Shh. Relax… just relax,” he growled, trying to be soothing even as his own breathing grew ragged. “You’re doin’… so good. Takin’ me so deep. Fuck, I can feel your throat squeezin’ me…”
Finally, with one last slow push, he bottomed out.
Your nose pressed flush against his pelvis, buried in the coarse patch of dark hair. His length throbbed deep down your throat, completely cutting off your air. The fullness was overwhelming to an alarming rate.
Tim let out a long groan, his hips jerking and settling as he held you there.
“Jesus Christ… all the way. You got every fuckin’ inch.” His voice was hoarse, something you’d never really heard before. “Good. Such a good fucking job for me.”
You were getting lightheaded fast.
The world blurred at the edges, a warm, floaty haze settling over everything. Your throat fluttered and squeezed around the thick length of Tim’s cock, every tiny twitch and throb pulling another noise from him. But underneath the strain, the ache, the burning stretch… you felt nothing but bliss.
He’d bottomed out completely. The heavy head of his cock nestled deep in your throat like it belonged there. It felt like a bell had rung somewhere inside your skull—a deep, resonant thrum. The pressure, the fullness, the way your body fought and then haphazardly surrendered… it was overwhelming in the best way. You couldn’t breathe. You were gagging softly around him, tears streaming down your face, but none of it mattered. It felt too good. Like being choked from the inside out. Like something filthy touching a part of you no one else had ever reached.
Tim’s hand slid tenderly over your wet cheek, his thumb brushing away some of the tears as he looked down at you.
“So pretty,” he rasped. “So warm.”
His hand drifted lower, cupping under your jaw for a moment, petting you almost sweetly. Then it kept going.
You felt his palm settle over the front of your throat.
Your dazed eyes blinked into focus.
Tim’s fingers curled around your neck, squeezing with a good amount of pressure while his cock stayed buried. Your hand flew up and gripped his forearm where you felt it. A muffled whine vibrated around his length as your vision began to tunnel, black creeping in at the edges. Your head felt like it was floating, pulsing with white-hot heat, but the lack of air made everything sharper and softer at the same time. Everything was contradictory.
“Settle down… I’ve got you,” Tim murmured. “Look at you. You’re doing great.”
He kept the pressure steady, not crushing, but firm enough that every shallow, failed attempt at breath turned into a weak, pathetic gag that made your head strain further. Your body trembled. You felt like you were burning alive—every nerve lit up, body aching, head spinning so badly you thought you might actually pass out.
And you didn’t care.
It felt too good. The numbness, the heat, the overwhelming fullness, how Tim was looking down at you like you were the only thing in the world… it was addictive.
Tim’s thumb stroked over the front of your throat, feeling the way his own cock bulged there as he held you pinned.
You gazed up at him through puffy, tear-blurred eyes, barely separating where his face began and the porch lights ended. But what you could see was flushed raw, his stern mask cracked open to leave nothing but visceral need.
He gave one involuntary bump of his hips, nudging just a little deeper, and cursed sharply under his breath.
“Shit… I’m not gonna last like this,” he growled.
Then something shifted in him. Anxious, restless energy took over, and his hands moved to either side of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he carefully dragged his cock back. You felt every thick inch sliding out of your throat—the sudden rush of air, the wet, obscene pull, the way your throat shuttered and clenched around nothing once he was almost all the way out.
You barely had time to breathe before he thrust back in.
Fuck.
The stretch burned as he pushed deep again and bottomed out. Then he did it again. And again.
Tim started fucking your throat in earnest.
He was growly now, almost animalistic with deep, frustrated grunts escaping him with every rough snap of his hips. He’d pull back halfway, just enough for you to feel the head drag across your tongue, before slamming back in, forcing himself past that tight ring and burying his cock to the hilt.
“Fuck—that’s it,” he rasped, voice breaking. “Take it. Just fuckin’ take it all.”
Your jaw had gone completely slack, your lips stretched wide around the base of him as he used your mouth. Every thrust punched a wet, choked gag out of you. Spit poured down your chin in messy strings, dripping onto your chest and the wooden porch below. Your hands stayed clenched tight on his thighs, holding on for dear life while he fucked your throat with growing urgency. Your body fought desperately for air that never came, but your brain couldn’t be more happy.
Tim’s hand slid from your hair to your cheek, his rough palm surprisingly gentle as he brushed away some of the tears still rolling down your skin. Then his thumb slipped into the corner of your mouth, hooking inside and pulling your lips open even wider, exposing your tongue for him buried under the weight of his length.
You blinked slowly and let your head go completely lax in his hold. You wanted him to use you exactly how he needed.
“I’m close,” he rasped, groaning as his thrusts turned sharp and frantic. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum.”
You looked up at him through wet lashes. His usually neat hair had fallen forward, dark strands messy and sticking to his forehead, hanging into his eyes. He looked completely undone.
“Shit—fuck,” Tim cursed sharply.
He pulled his cock out of your throat in one smooth motion. You gasped in wet, raw breaths, your chest heaving as fresh air finally rushed back into your lungs. Before you could even steady yourself, his thumb tugged your bottom lip down, holding your mouth wide open for him.
He pressed the swollen, leaking tip of his cock right against your tongue and started stroking himself in fast, frantic strokes. His body shook with how close he was.
You whined loudly around him, the desperate sound vibrating against his tip as you looked up at him with teary, needy eyes, silently begging the best you could.
That did it.
Tim practically growled when he came.
Thick, hot ropes of cum spilled across your tongue and flooded your open mouth. He kept stroking himself through it, gritting his teeth hard to stay quiet, his shoulders shaking as pulse after heavy pulse poured over your tongue. You moaned, the taste so satisfying and evidence of your hard work.
“Ah, God… swallow it all,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Swallow what I give you.”
Even as he came, he kept his thumb hooked in the bottom of your mouth, holding you open so he could watch every rope land on your tongue. His whole body trembled with the force of it, his hips twitching as the last few weak spurts dribbled onto your lips.
“Christ.”
When the last of his release had spilled across your tongue, you closed your lips around the sensitive head of his cock and gently sucked.
Tim’s hips twitching at the overstimulation. “Mmnh… you’re gonna kill me.”
You pulled off, then swallowed, feeling the warmth of him slide down your throat. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, so salty and warm.
Exhausted, you slumped down, your chest heaving as you dragged in deep, full breaths. Your head was still spinning, and you could feel the mess of yourself, all the spit and tears drying on your face. You lifted a hand to wipe at your chin, but Tim caught your wrist and swatted it away.
“I got it,” he muttered.
He slid down the wall, his back pressed to the wood as he tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans, quickly fixing his belt. Then he leaned forward, using his rough hands to haphazardly clean the mess from your cheeks and chin. When he was satisfied, he wrapped his hand around your arm and tugged you forward to turn your back against the wall too, your shoulders leaned against the other’s. The warmth of his body grounded you amongst all the haze.
For the first time you could hear it over the rush in your head, the party was still kicking inside, random yelling and loud music still evident against the quiet out here now.
“You okay?”
You looked over at Tim, whose face was the picture of exhaustion, mental and physical. You nodded, bumping your shoulder against his playfully.
He watched you for another second, then turned his head to stare out through the porch rails into the dark woods. The crickets kept chirping like nothing had happened.
“I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he muttered. “Not out here.”
You let out a tired laugh, leaning your head back against the wall.
“You’re dumb if you couldn’t tell how badly I wanted it,” you said, your voice a lot more hoarse than it had started. “I’m more disappointed you didn’t pull something like that sooner. You clearly wanted it, too.”
Tim quietly chuckled, a bit of light breaking through that dark stormcloud that always hovered above his head. For a moment the two of you just sat there, catching your breath and relaxing again. Then you both turned at the same time, your eyes meeting together. You leaned in slowly, and he did the same, faces drawing closer until your lips were barely a breath apart—
“Whoops.”
You both snapped your heads toward the voice.
Brian stood a few feet away, looking mildly awkward but mostly amused, three open beers clutched between his fingers. He was trying and failing to hide the smirk on his face.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, tone far too innocent.
Tim let out a long, exhausted sigh and dragged a hand down his face. “C’mon, man.”
Brian stepped closer anyway and handed over two of the beers. Tim took them, passing one straight to you without a word. You accepted it gratefully and took a big, long drink. The cold, bitter liquid felt like heaven on your raw throat.
“Toby had a whole stash under his bed,” Brian explained, leaning against the railing across from you. “Party’s kinda revived itself since you two disappeared. People are doing chugging contests again.”
He took a sip of his own beer, eyes flicking between the two of you with barely-hidden amusement.
“So… had a good time mingling?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tim shot him a flat look. “How much did you hear?”
Brian shrugged, the picture of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just guarding the door like a responsible friend looking out for his pals.”
You nearly choked on your beer. Tim just shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he took a long drink from his own bottle.
The three of you sat there for a moment in surprisingly comfortable silence, the distant chaos of the party drifting through the walls while the cool night air brushed over your heated skin and wore off the strain. Brian’s smirk never quite went away, but he didn’t push it.
Tim’s shoulder, however, stayed pressed right against yours.
Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!
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Takehisa Hinawa is a brat tamer? I don't write the rules?
Nsfw below the cut!!
He’s all fun and games when you’re sweet and submissive for him. He loves spoiling his good girl rotten. But Hinawa enjoys, dare I say relishes, when you act up. He gets off on putting you in your place. A gritted: “wait till’ we get home” and a subtle, somehow sultry glare. The quiet car ride back, no hand on your thigh - absolutely nothing.
You’re left with your mind running, thinking of all the things he might do to you. Your thighs rub together and you whimper, wishing he would touch you. Hinawa doesn’t give a shit. He’s pretending you’re not even there, practically holding back laughter at how worked up you already are. It’s like a game to him.
So, you get home and walk through the door without a single word. All he says as he sets his things down is “ten minutes”. You run. You doll yourself up, put on something nice. Anything to appease him, because you know if he stays mad you’re not finishing tonight. You put on the prettiest, laciest lingerie you can find, and spritz perfume all over- the one that makes him feral. You sit on the bed silently, awaiting your reckoning. You hear the click of his dress shoes, watch his shadow underneath the door. You can feel the heated breath he takes before he turns the doorknob, and holy shit your pussy is soaked.
He walks in and still doesn’t even fucking look at you. It makes you restless and desperate. He sits on the bed silently and beckons with two fingers. You know what he wants. You position yourself on his lap. A shiver runs across your skin as his hands ghost over your thighs. He runs his hands over your bare ass, breathing hard, trying to steady himself.
“What do you think you deserve… for that little stunt tonight, hmm?”
You whimper as he cups your pussy for just a second before moving to the small of your back. You reach down, finding a voice somewhere inside you dripping with faux apology, anything to get him to touch you. You know what he wants.
“As many as you think I deserve sir” your voice hitches as he squeezes you harshly.
He inhales and you tense in anticipation.
“You think it’s cute? To act like that in front of the fire force? Do I not satisfy you enough, coming home to this greedy cunt every night?” He clicks his teeth “Tch, tch… couldn’t even handle acting proper for one night… had to rub yourself all over me like a bitch in heat- in front of all those men. You think they didn’t notice? Or maybe you wanted them to. Nasty little slut.”
crack!
His hand comes down across your ass. You feel the sting and the indent it leaves. It’s sharp and painful. Tears prick your eyes, but you can’t help the moan that follows.
“N-no sir! S’ only for you!”
You can’t see him, but you feel the smirk that passes over his face. One word: “Count.”
You sputter in protest, but another harsh squeeze has you crying.
“One!”
His hand comes down again, sharp against the plush skin. Another moan follows as your panties start to fucking drip.
“Tw-two!”
He licks his lips audibly as his hand comes down across a third time. This one is on the other side. You can feel the heat blooming where his fingers made contact with the skin. You know his hand is imprinted in your ass cheek, red and angry. It turns you both on.. his hand prints visible on your skin.
“Three!”
You count seven more, tears streaming down your face, thighs clenching together. You’re desperate. His head comes down to your ear and he whispers. “Now get on your fucking knees.” You slide off of his lap, legs weak. Falling to your knees you wipe at your tears, but he grabs you by the chin and wipes them away with his thumb.
His voice drips with a condescending sympathy as he bends down, bringing his face near to yours.
“Aw, poor thing. Are you ready to apologize? Ready to be a good girl and listen?” He pushes his glasses up on his face and you swallow thickly. Fat tears continue to fall down your cheeks as you hiccup slightly.
“Yes sir, I’m ver-very sorry sir.”
He sneers at you, unbuckling his belt and shoving down his pants. He palms himself through his boxers before letting his dick spring free. The tip is a frustrated red, leaking with pre. He strokes himself a few times before drawing you closer with the hand on your jaw. He squeezes your cute little cheeks together, puckering your lips.
“Why don’t you put that bratty mouth to good use then?”
You whine, nodding with big eyes as you shimmy forward, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. Your other arm braces, gripping his muscular thigh. You give the tip a few kitten licks, tasting the salty precum, before you bring the whole thing into your mouth. You bob up and down slowly at first. Your tongue flattens against his veiny length. Your tears and snot run down your face, it's fucking nasty but you know it turns him on - how pathetic you must look right now. His hand bury themselves in your hair. He moans and you loose your shit at how deep and raspy his voice has become. He palms your hair and grunts as you begin to move faster, hollowing your cheeks.
“Good fucking girl. Keep your eyes on me baby, wanna see them. Wanna see those pretty tears baby, fuck-“
You blink up at him through wet lashes as you moan around him. You can feel the shiver that runs through his body at the vibrations of your voice. He grabs at your hair harder, practically fucking your face at this point. You gag as he hits the back of your throat, and your other hand creeps down to rub your clit through your sopping panties. He grunts and moans, spurring you on. Fuck, he’s so sexy when he’s vocal. He’s about to cum, you can tell.. but he must notice the hand between your thighs because he drags you off of his cock. He pulls your face towards his. He’s breathing heavily, expression as fucked out as yours. However he grins and drags you up on to the bed.
“You wanna cum so bad? Fuckin’ slut… You’re gonna have to work for it.”
He lays back, and you take it as an invitation to climb on top of him. You hold his cock in your hands, stroking him against your folds a few times and sighing at the feeling, before sliding onto him. Rolling your hips, you enjoy the friction this position gives you against your clit. His hands rest behind his head as he watches you with that fuckass evil smirk that’s been in his face all night. You can tell he has no intention of helping you.
"Come on? Is that all you can do? I thought you wanted it?"
Gritting your teeth, you start to bounce, up and down on his length - but you’re already tired. Dinner was long, and after the spanking and face fucking you just want him to breed you into oblivion. You're moving slowly, head lolling at the slight relief, but it just isn't enough. You hardly have the strength to lift yourself off of him, every time you come back down you nearly give up. You whine, pawing at his chest in desperation. All he does is coo at you.
“What baby? What? Can’t do it?”
His brows furrow and he pouts at you, hand coming up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. He looks into your eyes. He hasn't even started to sweat, his glasses still sit snug on his face. It's insult to injury.
“I’m letting you finish tonight, all I’m asking is that you to do it yourself… you can do that for me right baby? You can be a good girl and cum for me?”
You bite your lip in frustration as your vision goes hazy. You grip his shoulders, rolling your hips on his dick because you can’t do much else. The friction is still delicious but it’s not enough. You need him pounding inside of you, hitting that spot. You can’t get it this way.
“Please Hina-“ you choke the words out.
His hands come to rest on your hips and you get excited, but they just stay there. He presses so hard that he leaves marks on your skin, but he doesn’t help. He just watches, nodding in disappointment.
“Should’ve thought of that before you decided to be a slut tonight. Actions have consequences baby. Now if you wanna cum your gonna have to do it yourself.”
(unedited little drabble) (I lied, I do write the rules?)(give me this man immediately???)
tags; smut, 18+. nsfw, overstimulation, semi public sex (not in the bedroom), raw sex :P wrap it before you tap it
MORE FIRE FORCE SMUT BECAUSE IT IS ACTUALLY A NEED, HEHE LOVE YOU POOKIES.
it was a surprisingly quiet day at the Eighth despite a few cases of spontaneous combustion the crew had to take care of. and by quiet you mean no mortal enemies coming to try and take your Eighth babies away to jump start the catalyst or whatever it is.
so considering this was a rare day as of late, you’re currently roaming around, on a mission to find your man. hopefully you can convince him to indulge in some alone time with you, it’s been a while after all.
you know him well so it didn’t take you long to find him, in fact you only looked in one place.
you step into the armory to see him there, cleaning his guns leisurely, though his posture is as rigid as ever. “hinawa, baby” you call in a soft voice, loud enough for him to hear before making your way from the door frame to him.
”hmm” he hums in acknowledgement and wastes no time to stand up and greet you, his pretty lady. he sets the gun part on the table, unassembled and safe, before grabbing you by your soft waist, leaning down to greet you properly with a gentle press to your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.
he tries not to touch you too much, as to not get the cleaning product on your clothes, let alone your skin.
”come spend some time with me, yeah?” you whisper sensually into his lips. you drag your hands down his toned chest to his stomach, before teasing the waistband of his uniform that was tied around his waist with a grin.
”mhm, just let me finish up here, baby” he hums into your kisses before pulling back, getting back to where he was. unfortunately, that wasn’t good enough for you. a day like this is rare and the sun is starting to set, this is the perfect time to wind down and spend some…quality time together.
”nooo, hina, now” you demand. you’re trying your best to not act like a brat but you’re so needy and it’s been just a little too long. you gently push his weapons towards the edge of the table, taking their place in front of him, “c’mon, big guy,” you mummer into his ear, leaning forward to show off your cleavage just a little, “don’t you miss me?” you use your foot to press against the bulge in his uniform that’s been growing since you pressed your soft lips against his own.
he groans lowly, pushing up his glasses that have started to fall and grabs your calf, “not here, princess, we really shouldn’t” but he’s using his grip to push your boot covered foot down harder onto his shaft. he cants his hips eagerly, more desperate for you than he initially thought. he figured he could wait, maybe finish up what he was doing but boy was he wrong. why did he think that? he’s never been able to resist you.
you giggle at his lack of self control when it comes to you, knowing you’re the same way for him. you don’t move your foot when you lean in for another kiss, more like he doesn’t let you, his grip tightens and his hips quicken their pace as you lock lips with his, “fuck, fuck” he curses. his foul language mixed with the gruffness of his voice makes your pussy clench, you don’t get to hear it often as he tries his best to keep it to a minimum with so many kids around on the daily.
you moan into the kiss, bringing your other foot to his thigh in attempts to clench your own together. hinawa pulls away from the kiss with struggle, not wanting to part from you at all. a whine starts up in your throat before he pulls at the zipper of your own orange jumpsuit, ridding your top half of it. he pulls it down until it reaches your ankles, the only reason he doesn’t pull it all the way off being your boots that are in the way (and still pressed into his hard cock).
you pull off the undershirt you had on and unhook your bra, freeing your breasts and your nipples perk up instantly due the to cold air. with one hand still on your calf, hinawa uses the other to grope at your chest desperately, leaning forward to take one of your soft brown nipples into his mouth.
”ah- s-shit, hina” you whine, feeling your cunt clench around nothing, desperate to be satisfied. you grab the back of his head with both hands, keeping his head in place as you push your chest impossibly further into his mouth and he uses his teeth to tug gently. your thumb gently brushes his cheekbone right under his glasses, making his eyes flutter closed.
”baby, you gonna cum like this?” you huff, eager to see him fall apart without even having to take his clothes off.
as much as he wants too, eager to say yes and continue rutting into your foot like some deprived teenager, he’s not going to until you, “put your pussy in my mouth, baby,” he barely pops your nipple out of his mouth to speak, “wanna cum with your pretty cunt in my mouth, wanna taste you s’bad” he’s slurring his words in an attempt to get them out as quickly as possible.
you keen excitedly, pushing your cotton panties down to your ankles with the rest of your jumpsuit and hinawa wastes no time devouring you. fuck, you’re soaked. the smell of your pussy nearly makes him bust his nut right then and there, no joke.
he licks a long broad stripe from your entrance to the sensitive bud that’s your clit, sucking it into his mouth in an instant, making you whine loudly, legs twitching, still in his grip. he moans at your taste, shoving his thick tongue into your entrance without warning, nose pushing into your clit as he gently fucks your pussy with his pink muscle.
you spread your legs wider, trying to fit his broad shoulders in between them as you shove his head deeper into your needy pussy. “fuck, baby—shit!” you moan as he eats you so sensually despite his own eagerness to cum. he moans into your cunt, removing his tongue to suck at your soft pussy lips before taking your nub back into his mouth again.
”angel, y’taste so fuckin’ good—“ his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head but he resists the urge in favor of looking up at you, hair disheveled and glasses crooked from you shoving his face into your greedy center.
he finds you already looking at him, tears of pleasure filling your pretty eyes and fuck—he can’t take it anymore.
he cants his hips up one final time before he can no longer hold off his orgasm. his eyes finally roll back into his head at the overwhelming feeling of finally being able to release after so long. “i’m cummin’, baby, nngh~” he grunts, barely able to get the words out. he moans like a mad man into your pussy as he makes a mess in his jumpsuit, which does nothing to hold in his thick load. he cums so much and so hard it’s spurting out of the fabric in heaps.
his grip on your calf finally loosens as he moves to spread your legs further apart with his mouth still on your wet center. he pushes them up to your chest, exposing all of you, including your sweet puckered hole he’s now suddenly dying to get a taste of as well.
your hands haven’t left the back of his head, needing something to keep you grounded. he looks so fucking good in between your legs, the sight is making you light headed. hinawa wastes no time, spitting on your pussy, making your toes curl in your boots as your hole twitches around nothing. he watches and you feel it drip all the way down to his desired destination.
he gently but firmly strokes your asshole with his tongue making you squeak out an unnatural sound, “hina! fuck—!” you cut yourself off with a loud moan as he sucks, barely pushing the tip of his tongue inside before pulling back out. hinawa runs his tongue up the entirety of everything in between your legs. god he’s so fucking nasty. you missed him so much.
despite the overwhelming feeling of pleasure making all of your limbs weak, you’re guiding his head exactly where you want him. he grabs your ass with each hand, spreading you impossibly further, shoving his tongue back into your cunt. his nose is right back at home on your clit as he continues to fuck you with his tongue to your orgasm.
”shit baby, g’nna fuckin’ nut” you cry out, legs shaking and back arching as you fall back onto your elbows, finally releasing his head, “suck on it, i’m so close, give it to me!”
he groans, the sight itself making him hard effortlessly, twitching in his now stained uniform. he wastes no time following your orders, pulling his long tongue out to suction your swollen into his mouth like he was trying to suck your soul through it. you eagerly push your creamy cunt into his face, rolling your hips eagerly as you tip over the edge.
“yeeesss, fu-fuck! baby—hina!” you ramble, twitching from the overstimulating shocks of pleasure rolling through you. he doesn’t stop until you’re ready, gently pushing his head away, finally unable to take anymore.
he pulls away, face messy with your wetness and cream. fucking filthy.
you glance at the mess he made in his clothes and giggle lightly, pulling him in for a sensual makeout session, letting him know that this is far from over. you straighten out his foggy glasses as you run your tongue against his before gently sucking on it. his cock twitches once again as he reluctantly pulls away.
he thinks about taking you up to your shared room, really he does, but he doesn’t think he can wait any longer. and neither can you. he mentally promises to fuck you properly in bed once you’re both satisfied enough to make it there.
he doesn’t even bother to pull your boots off and neither do you. he just pulls his own uniform down enough to let his cock spring free making him groan in instant relief. the happy trail he hasn’t had a chance to get to makes your mouth water as you make your own mental note to have his cock in your mouth sometime later.
he ducks his head under the uniform around your ankles, trapping himself in between your legs, making you giggle. he huffs out a laugh and smiles gently at the sound of your laugh, the stern, almost angry set expression that’s always on his face nowhere to be found. it never was when he was with you, though.
he leans in to press a kiss on your forehead as you pull his hips towards yours, using the clothing wrapped around your ankles as leverage. the tip of his long cock hits your clit, making you twitch softly. “mmm, put it in baby~” you whine desperately. already one step ahead of you, he’s towering over you, guiding his fat tip to your pussy, running it up and down your folds, getting the breath knocked out of him once it gets caught on your entrance.
”fucking—missed you so much, princess,” the endearing nickname he keeps using makes your heart flutter and your cheeks heat even more despite the raunchy situation already occuring, “haven’t had time to fuck you properly, huh?” he purrs into your ear.
you whine a sound of agreement that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else but him. he pushes you flat onto the desk, broad body hovering over yours as you brace yourself on his toned biceps. he slowly pushes the tip of his cock into your entrance, a moan forcing its way out of both of your throats.
his glasses nearly slip off his face before he grabs them, quickly tossing them to the side of the large desk he’s about to fuck you silly on. thank god he’s near sighted, all he needs to do is lean closer to see your pretty face twisted in pleasure.
he slowly pushes his thickness into you completely, making you moan out like a whore.
”mhm, princess,” he encourages, eager to hear the pretty noises you’re making, “let me hear you.” he ignores the fact the anyone could walk by and hear the two of you, or even walk in. he knows for a fact the kids are busy training on the roof despite the sky darkening by the minute, so no other member of the Eighth will be particularly scarred if they were to walk in, considering they are adults themselves.
his slow, deep thrusts have him nudging into your g-spot, making your thighs tighten around his waist as your back arches prettily off the desk. the happy trail that made your mouth water is now rubbing against your clit in such a delicious manner it makes your pussy gush and cream around him in copious amounts.
”hinawa~” you whine, “fuck me.” your whines and gasps of pleasure make his cock twitch for the nth time that night, desperate for release again. and you can feel it, god.
he leans in to kiss you, maneuvering your hands beside your head, locking his hands with yours as he fucks into your harder, faster.
“like this, baby? hmm?” he smirks into your plump lips, rubbing his nose against yours. your hands squeeze his tight, your soft body bouncing and twitching under his, desperately trying to make sense of the pleasure he’s giving you. hinawa pulls back to watch your tits bounce and belly jiggle, groaning at the sight.
“yes, just like that! m’gonna cum again” you keen, tightening your thighs around his waist to raise your hips and grind your clit into his happy trail again as you moan loudly.
“go ahead n give it to me, princess” he huffs, he needs to feel you cum around him before he even thinks about filling your precious womb with his seed. your pleasure is genuinely his pleasure. he lets go of your hands and caresses your waist, gently coaxing your body to relax and just feel the pleasure he’s giving you.
the power of his thrusts mixed with the sweat covering your bodies make you slide up the desk with each thrusts. he grabs your waist firmly, you think to keep you steady. although you’re proven wrong when he uses his grip to pull your body down in tandem with his thrusts, forcing his cock deeper into your pussy.
”fuck, fuck, fuck!” the tight coil in your tummy snaps instantly as you feel the tip of his cock fuck into your cervix with each thrust. wrapping your arms around his back, you scratch your nails down the expanse of it as your release squirts out around his cock with such force it nearly pushes him out. your warm pussy spasms around him, the warm liquid staining his clothing even more so.
”there you go, sweet thing,” he moans into your neck, biting the skin there hard enough to leave a mark on your soft brown skin that damn near tastes like candy.
no longer holding back, he grips onto your thighs, fucking your pussy unceremoniously, his balls smack onto your ass harshly with each thrust. he lies his forehead against your, sweat mixing together as you moan at the overstimulation. “hina, cum inside baby, give it t’me” you urge, clawing at his ass with your manicured nails, leaving marks of your own on his sweaty skin.
”mhm, gonna fill you up, baby” he huffs, “fill this pretty cunt with my cum.” you clench around him at the promise and fuck he sounds so sexy. you grin, using your hands to squeeze his ass one last time, pushing him into you deeply before he’s cumming. the feeling of your soft hands all over him easily bringing him to his peak.
”nngh—shiiit!” he shudders and his hips stutter as he reaches his peak, “shit” he whispers under his breath, but he’s close enough for you to hear. your energy completely drained, finally full and satisfied, pussy twitching happily.
he reluctantly moves away, pulling you up with him as you lean in for more kisses. you giggle happy and he grins, “c’mon, lets straighten up and head to the room, yeah?”
hopefully no one catches you on your way to question the stains on your clothes or the wobble in your step, you think before the two of you hear a solid knock on your door.
he clears his throat before speaking, “hinawa,” and oh my god it’s captain obi, you realize with horror as you shove your face into hinawa’s neck,” y/n…”
fucking hell.
he so ffiiiiinneeee, these fire force men—MM MM MM. not proof read sorry y’all i be lazy ngl.
it hasn't been letting me update my masterlist for some reason so i'm just going to make another one ugh.
SUMMARY: Out of desperation to prove yourself as a witch you attempt to summon lord Chernabog. You think the ritual has failed, but strange things start happening around town. A stranger shows up, digging into the roots of your once pleasant life as it falls apart. Is it a run of the mill psychopath, or a blood contract with your name on it?
PAIRINGS: Eyeless Jack/Jack Nyras x Witch! reader, Brian Thomas, Tim wright, Nina Hopkins, Jeffery woods, Tobias Rogers, Jane Richardson ⋆˚꩜。
WARNINGS: Disturbing Imagery, blood, self harm (demonic ritual), eventual gore and smut - this is probably going to be the tamest chapter.
WORD COUNT: 10.5K
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote for creepy pasta in middle school and I'm back in the building lol. Everyone except for Jack is written into a Greenhouse/florist worker AU. Jack is mainly cannon. This is my first attempt at a longer fic, still getting used to longer form content, so I hope you enjoy! As of right now I have seven chapters planned for this series. If anyone is invested and wants to be added to the tag list, please let me know! -ִ ࣪𖤐 Cher
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It’s speculated that witchcraft is most often a placebo. The manipulation of the spirit is not concrete enough to measure, and real witchcraft isn’t like the academia and schools of wizardry you might’ve seen in the media. It’s hard, grueling, sacred, and most often- all you have to show for your efforts is a clear mind, a series of unfortunate events, or the occasional infatuation. Who is to say that your magick even brings these things about? You believed your mind was clear, so it was. You placed a hex on those who hurt you, and they just happened to fall down the stairs. Perhaps that man fell in love with you all on his own, regardless of your weaving.
You know that your magick is real. However, you don’t know if it’s real enough for this.
“It has to be how wide?? I don’t know if I have enough pig’s blood for this.” Your familiar, a little gray and white cat, rubs against your ankle reassuringly.
You pull your lip between your teeth as you let fingers glide over the scrawling on the paper. The book is light between your hands. The leather it is bound in radiates energy from its previous rituals. You set the open book on the coffee table, hands dipping towards the mahogany bowl. A pentagram, five points. You spread the blood carefully, making sure the points connect to the circle you’ve already laid out. The metallic smell of the blood stings your nose making your eyes water, a tear or two fall into the circle.. But a little taglock never hurt a spell. You dip your fingers into the bowl, using your nails to perfect the edges of the design laid across your (now empty) living room floor.
Couches and plants are pushed to the side of your small apartment in preparation for the ‘visitor’ you’re inviting to your home. Ritual bowls of salts, pig’s blood, oil, bay leaves, and sage sit in a semi-circle around you. You have several books open, your spells are often a hybrid of the things that other witches have done which resonate with you. The more personal it is, the stronger the connection. Your personal Grimoire is covered in messy scrawl, only legible to its author. Diagrams show exactly what needs to go where and how, tastefully sketched.
You take a deep breath in. Bay leaves, sage and salt mix together in your palms as you hum a chant of protection over them. Once charged you cast them over the circle, thanking the forces for keeping you from harm (in advance, you hope). You light six candles. One for each point of the pentagram and one for the center. Beside the center candle you place a silver dish and a ceremonial dagger, both cool to the touch. The inscription on the side of the blade makes you shiver in anticipation, but you still yourself. You can feel the adrenaline in your body as you take your place.
You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning all the passion and command you can muster. Confidence is supposedly key. Your hands stretch towards the earth, palms spread wide and fingers tense. You push all of the energy that you can muster into your hands, feeling the atmosphere change. Finding a deep voice inside of you, you and draw the words out of your throat.
“Te nomine vero soloque evoco… Zcerneboch!”
Your eyes fly open as your pad to the center of the circle. You reach for the dagger, kneeling over the silver bowl. Your shaking hand hovers above the dish, the reflection dancing across your vision as you try to steady yourself. You press the dagger to your palm, mentally counting down from three. The blade makes you want to jump out of your skin but you need this, you need physical evidence of your work. It’s too late now. At one you slice the blade quickly, feeling numbness at first, and then a sharp sting as blood pricks at the wound. A gasp flies past your lips. You return the dagger, opposite hand coming to wrap around your wrist and squeezing gently. The blood drips into the dish.
plink, plink, plink
The offering of purity. The blood of a Virgin.
Once it is done you raise your hands upwards, towards the sky this time. You reach inwards and find the voice again.
“Fiat sic! So mote it be!”
Your eyes flutter shut again in anticipation. You wait. The house creaks. Your cat meows. The world is absolutely silent. You furrow your brow, expecting some large display of smoke and power. The wind picks up suddenly, throwing your window open and pulling at your hair and clothes with a gust. You let the wave wash over you, and when it dies down your eyes open. As they open you see scattered herbs and blood blown into droplets across your floor. Your bowls are overturned, the sacred silver dish spinning like a top. The offering of purity mixes with pig’s blood and you scowl. Maybe it is farce.. you don’t know, you're angry. The perfect ritual. Weeks of preparation, your hand literally sliced open. Now it’s just a bloody mess in your living room. You kick at one of the wooden bowls in dismay as you grumble about cleaning up this mess.. Your cat meows again.
The utter silence lingers still. You look around, scanning the room for any sign of success before you finally come to terms with failure. You trudge to the bathroom, rubbing your eyes. Whatever the outcome of the ritual it had exhausted you. You felt more drained than you ever had after a spell. You flick on the lights. The bathroom shines clean and white in contrast to the bloody apartment. You sigh at your reflection. Blood is spattered across your face and clothes, your hair is wild from the sudden wind, and your hand looks worse than it feels. Turning on the shower you let the steam fill the bathroom. Relaxing into the heat, you slip off your clothes. A candle or two is lit before you step into the shower. The patter of water across your back calms you, and you envision the dark grime and negativity of the failure washing off of you. Your eyes droop as you gently wash the blood off of your stained skin. Your limbs move, slow and tired, through the motions of your shower routine. You think you might just go to bed and clean up tomorrow…
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When you become conscious of the morning light shining through your eyelids you also become aware of the pounding soreness in between your eyes. The headaches that sit at the front of your head are always the worst. You sit up with a groan.
Pillows and blankets are strewn across your bed and floor haphazardly, and you feel anything but well-rested. You must have been tossing and turning all night. You slide out of bed. Walking out of your room you are greeted by neatly stacked bowls, organized grimoires and books, and your ceremonial dagger sitting neatly atop the silver dish. You raise your eyebrows at the scene, looking towards the kitty batting at a forgotten bay leaf. You were pretty delirious with exhaustion last night, maybe you cleaned it up before heading to bed and had simply forgotten. You thank your past self as you gather the bowls up in your arms, whisking them back to the kitchen. Kitty follows at your heels, meowing and trilling as she wraps around your ankles. At least someone is in a good mood.
You slide open the checkered curtains in front of your sink, allowing fresh sunlight to seep into the room. You start the coffee pot before coming back to the sink to give each bowl a cursory wash as you put them away. The clinking of dishes and humming of the coffee pot does make you feel slightly better. Once the washing is done you take a painkiller or two with your coffee.. You look down at the cat, crouching to stroke her back.
“Ayayay.. All of that wasted supplies for what.” Kitty looks at you innocently.
“Meow!”
“And this…”
You hold up the hand, a fresh bandage plastered across the wound. Kitty takes it as an invitation to brush her cheek across your fingers. At least she seems to have enjoyed the ritual. You scoop her up into your arms like a baby.
“Well, your mother has to get ready for work so let’s get moving little lady.” You tap the tip of her nose with your finger as you carry her back through the apartment. You pick out your outfit for the day. Typically, you try to dress flowery and flowy as a florist. You think it gives the customers a better impression. You say a little glamour chant as you get ready out of habit. Tote bag in arm, you grab your keys and wallet as you say goodbye to your cat.
The nursery and garden center you work at is only a short drive from the building, which sits at the edge of the city, and you find the sunlight rejuvenating as you drive into the countryside. You like this job specifically because even though you only work in the floral department, any dying herbs, flowers, and plants are often up for grabs. You like to dry them and store them for spell work. Additionally, working with nature is just up your ally. As you step into the little shop the bell chimes, and your coworker welcomes you in. “Good morning!”
You smile at the girl already bustling about the front counter, actively drawing flowers on the little chalkboard sign that reads the daily discounts and deals. “Morning’ Nina.”
You slip into the back room, setting your bag on a hook and tying an apron around your waist. The dark green contrasts nicely against your outfit. You tie it snugly, finishing it with a bow as you yawn. Nina skips in, high pony tail bobbing. You think a scene queen working at a flower shop is such a contrast, but you love her style. She always has great chats with the customers and the flowers seem to like her. “Rough night?”
“Yeah.. you could say that.”
Nina reaches for your wrist, pulling your hand into her own and gasping. “Girl, what happened to your hand?!” You grimace, trying to come up with an excuse quickly. If anyone was gonna pry it was her. “Ooooh um. I tripped over Kitty while I was chopping vegetables. I'm really ok though. You think it’s gonna be busy today?”
Nina returns your hand begrudgingly, walking to the front counter as you follow. She chips at her nail polish and sighs. “About as busy as it always is..”
You chuckle, flipping on the lights in one of the flower displays. A little knock on the front door and another bell chime draws your attention. Brian, one of the gardeners, steps in. He clicks his work boots together on the entrance mat before he walks into the store, careful not to track dirt.
“Morning.”
It’s gruff and short and you roll your eyes. Nina pops out from behind the counter, waving excitedly. “Morninggg! We’ve got the coffee on in the back if you want some!”
He nods in approval as he trudges to the back of the store.
You continue humming to yourself as you arrange the flowers in the display, making note of which ones are starting to wilt so you can mark them half off later. You think Brian is a nice guy. Taller, blonde, and scrappy. He’s easy enough to get on with. Most of the people working here had been here awhile, so the group is pretty tight knit. Brian is no exception. He’s serious at work, but every so often he’ll bring in donuts— and when you all go out to drink he’s fun.
“By the way, Toby said to come see him when you get a chance. Kid has some herbs for you.”
You jump a little bit, not hearing Brian come back out as you were lost in thought. You can tell he’s chuckling at your surprise. He sips his coffee out of a green mug that reads ‘plantaholic’. You swat at his shoulder gently, giving him a half hearted glare. “We’re going to have to put a bell on you.”
He gives you a grin and you notice the second cup of coffee in his hand. He offers it to you and you hesitate, debating if you really need two coffees today, before caving and taking it.
“Thanks. I’ll go see Toby later. Where’s thing two?” He grunts, gloved hand coming up to scratch at the stubble on his face. “Tim? Haven’t seen him yet but ya’know.. He’ll be around eventually.” You shoot him a glance. “Something wrong? You two are usually attached at the hip.” Brian nods his head. “Nah, we got a shipment early this morning.”
Tim, the landscaper, was also responsible for unloading trucks and moving plants around. Your gaze softened as you realized that both men had probably been here early, Tim unloading and Brian making room for new plants and checking their health. You notice the dark circles under his eyes. He keeps blinking and you can tell he’s trying to chase the sleep away with coffee. Tim must be exhausted too.
“In that case I’ll go find Toby and bring Tim a cup of coffee while I’m at it.”
“K, js’ be mindful.. Could be one of those days.”
Tim is a nice guy and an excellent landscaper, but he has his moods. You assume it has something to do with the pills. No one here faults him for it. It doesn’t happen often but you all just try to avoid him and let him do his work when it does. You nod thoughtfully, shooting Brian a smile as you sip out of your mug. “I will be, thanks for the coffee Bri.”
You pour a bit more coffee into a to-go cup, popping the lid on and telling Nina you’ll be right back. When you step out the back door into the garden you are instantly washed with fresh air. The main stepping stones that wind through the garden lead towards the greenhouse, where you know you’ll find Toby, but there are several little paths that shoot off spiraling around patches of flowers, wheelbarrows, trees, saplings, and garden decorations. Trellises littered in vines cover the main path and you hear the water fountains babbling off in the distance. Tim could be anywhere in the garden or greenhouse, so you take your time down the path, admiring some of the new decorations that have come in. Out of the corner of your eye you catch movement, and you stop to look over. “Tim?”
You stalk over to the spot where you notice the rustling, not wanting to bother him in case he’s having one of those days. Messy brown hair comes into view, but it’s not Tim’s. It isn’t Toby’s either.
You clear your throat, not knowing exactly what to say. “Hello?” You step pass the foliage and the mystery man comes into full view. He turns, and his dark eyes meet yours. He’s pretty - almost too pretty.
The man sitting in the dirt is completely foreign to you. His brown hair waves and twists perfectly around his face. His skin is pale with a grayish-olive undertone that sounds odd in theory, but makes him look like a Greek statue in practice. His dewy eyes are black and soulful. You can’t help the little gasp that leaves your lips when he turns to look at you. He’s on his knees in the dirt, apron riding up around his jeans. The tight, white T-shirt he has on does little to hide his built torso, and his shoulders ripple as he digs into the soft dirt.
He nods at you in acknowledgment, brushing the dirt off of his apron as he moves to stand. A large hand with painted black nails is extended to you, you look down at the coffees in both of your hands, mourning the loss of shaking this beautiful man’s hand. You hold them out awkwardly. “I- uhh. Hands are.. A little full.” He chuckles and you nearly swoon. Who is this man?
His hands fly clumsily to his pockets and he rocks on his heels. “Oh, my bad. Yeah, I see that. I’m Jack.. Jack Nyras. I just started here as a gardener.” That’s funny, Jane has been worried about the need to let someone go due to your profits.. Why would she hire another gardener? But then again, the workings of your gothic manager are mysterious and ever-changing. You shrug it off. Telling Jack your name, you beam about how lovely of a place the Nursery is and how he’s going to fit right in. “Do you live in town then?”
Jack nods and a hand comes to scratch the back of his head. “Something like that, I just moved here. Still getting used to everything.” You nod at everything he says dumbly. “Well, if you need anyone to show you around just let me know!” He assures you he will before he starts talking about how he should get back to work or something. You don’t know. You wave giddily at him as you leave. Walking down the path lost in thought about Jack, you nearly run head first into Tim.
“Oh, hey! Sorry. I’m a bit lost in thought today, but I brought you coffee! Heard you guys had a truck early this morning.” Tim is not amused. He quirks an eyebrow at you, taking the coffee before you can spill it. “Thanks.. What exactly has you lost in thought?” You blush and look towards the floor, not wanting to admit you were schoolgirl-crushing on the new guy. You're honestly embarrassed, you never act this way over men. You shake your head vigorously, dispelling the sudden infatuation. “Nothing. Just a lot going on. Anyways, truck good?” Tim allows a tired smile to pull at his lips. He brings a hand to his neck, rolling his head in a circle. The stretch looks like it does little to relieve him. “Yeah, it’s all taken care of. Been here since four in the morning, just wish Jane would let me leave early. Thanks for the coffee kid.” You give him a sympathetic look. He swats at the air, gesturing for you to quit pitying him. “I’m a grown man, an early morning never hurts anyone. By the way, Toby’s looking for you.” You nod, sipping out of your mug. “Yeah, I'm on my way to see him now. If I see Jane I’ll put in a good word for you.” He’s already walking away. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” His own special way of saying thank you. You know he’s a big softie.
You continue down the path until you come to the greenhouse, one of your favorite places on earth. You wish you were working the greenhouse checkout instead of Toby. It is massive. As you walk in you are met with wooden structures above your head, lined with hanging flowers and plants. Raised wooden boxes stretch on for what seems like forever, full of different plants, herbs, flowers, and vegetables. The quiet buzz of nature makes you smile as you walk down the path towards the back.
You find Toby bent down, scrounging about underneath the counter for something. When you say his name, he audibly bumps his head. He stands up to greet you, rubbing at the sore spot where he hit himself. Toby looks like a teenage boy, and he’s not much older than one. He has that boyish charm. His hair is messy and brown and freckles bloom around his cheeks and nose. He wears a patch on the side of his mouth, says it covers up a birth defect he never got fixed. He’s a nice guy. Has a few screws loose, but nice nonetheless. He catches your eye and gestures you over. You slip behind the counter with him and see that he is holding a few drawstring bags. He shoves them into your arms before you have time to ask any questions.
“Dried these js’ for yo-you. I know, I know. You don’t *snap* have to thank me.” You open one of the bags, sniffing the contents. Dried rose petals. Another one contains lavender, and a third basil. “Dried herbs for little ol’ me? You shouldn’t have.” Toby curses involuntarily, a symptom of his tourettes. “I did. You’re welcome.” You roll your eyes at his smugness, pushing him playfully as you mumble something about not leaving Nina alone in the shop. You call out to him as you leave “Hey! If you see Jane, tell her me and Tim want to talk to her!” Toby cups his hands around his mouth. “What???” You sigh. “IF YOU SEE JANE, TELL-”
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When you finally return to the flower shop to do your actual job you can’t wait to talk to Nina about the new guy. The sudden infatuation that came over you seems to have faded, but you are still full of questions. First and foremost, why did he make you feel like a hormonal highschooler? It's like the moment you saw him there was a pull — or a connection. It almost seemed unnatural, but it was probably just the fact you hadn't been with a guy, well… ever, and Jack looked like a model. Second and second most, why on earth would Jane hire another gardener? You bustle into the shop, slipping behind the counter and instantly busying your hands with the batch of wedding table bouquets Nina is working on. It’s silent for a few minutes.
“Hey.. have you met the new guy?”
Nina gives you an inquisitive look without slowing her work. “New guy?”
You hum in response, gently spreading the petals of a flower a bit further apart. “Jack, I think it was. New gardener. I thought Jane wasn’t hiring anyone else?” Nina nods, angling her body towards you. “No, she shouldn’t be. Not the way she’s always complaining. 'Who is he? Is he hot?”
Your cheeks flush and your eyes fix on your work. “I mean yeah… The first minute of talking to him I felt hormonal and sweaty. He’s really the definition of a pretty boy.” Nina sighs. “Not as pretty as that truck driver.” You visibly recoil. “Ew, Jeff? Not this again.” Nina has been crushing on the company truck driver that supplies your neck of the woods since she started working here. You suddenly remember your difference in types. “Nina, I love you, but that man is not hot. He also doesn’t know who you are.” Nina groans and plants her head on the counter. “I got here early to help with the truck just so I could see him.”
You purse your lips, stifling a giggle. “How noble. Did you actually help, or did you just hang off of him the whole time?” Nina starts to fake cry. “Jane made me actually helpppp.” You pat her back in a comforting gesture. “There, there. You always have next time. Maybe you can actually ask him for his number next time and he’ll give it to you.” Nina rolls so she’s half laying on the counter, facing the ceiling idly. “You don’t understand! There’s a strategy! I’m playing the long game.”
“Right, that’s why you're having me stalk him on Instagram for you so he doesn’t see you viewing his stories.” She stands up abruptly, going back to her work like nothing happened.
She changes the topic curtly, “Anyways, the new guy.” You smile at her antics. “Yeah, new guy. Why was he hired? I need you to see him so I can confirm if he’s actually hot or if I’m just delusional.” She picks a red flower from your pile, incorporating it into the pinks and whites of her bouquet. “Well we both already know the answer to that. You're delusional as they come.” You raise your eyebrows and her eyes widen. Before she can stop you, you take a deep breath, summoning a loud voice. “NINA LOVES JEFFERY WOODS.” No one can really hear you, but she scrambles to cover your mouth, shushing you in panic. You giggle as she wrestles you into silence. “I am not the delusional one.” She concedes with a sigh and you both return to your flowers once more. The store bell jingles. You both look up.
“Ladies.” Jack stands in the doorway and you feel that wave of Disney knees and butterflies wash over you. Nina chuckles and you elbow her under the counter. “I was told that you two supply the coffee.” Nina nods and gestures to the back. “That’s correct! We have our own little coffee machine and a mini fridge with some different creamers and stuff. Help yourself!” Jack smiles blindingly and makes his way to the back of the counter. It takes everything in you not to whisper ‘I told you so’ to the girl next to you. Jack hums as he starts the machine, the low timbre of his voice resonates in your chest and you sigh.
Nina looks at you knowingly, and whispers. “But someone from work, really?” You frown. “But you’re obsessed with Jeff, you can’t talk.” She just returns to her work and continues the conversation without eye contact. “It’s just for fun, a little crush. Nothing’s going to actually happen. I know you, you aren’t satisfied with little crushes.” You roll your eyes and look away as Jack walks out of the back with a steaming cup of coffee and a pleased look on his face.
Jack approaches Nina, holding out his hand. “Ah, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting…” She shakes it, responding: “Nina.” He grins, giving her a firm shake. “I’m Jack, the new gardener. I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you two as long as you supply caffeine.” Nina giggles and you can tell his charm isn’t lost on her. When he leaves you nag her about how handsome he is and she’s inclined to agree. You can’t help but think that she’s right though, you should leave it at a little work place crush.
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The next few days pass on pleasantly. You hardly remember that stupid failed ritual, and despite the disappointment- it doesn’t stop you from practicing your craft. Glamour spells when doing makeup, protection stirred into your coffee. You had to use all of your self discipline to keep yourself from making a spell jar for Jack.
The Garden Nursery seemed more pleasant these days, sunnier. Tim hadn’t had a bad day in ages and even Jane was lightening up on the gothic reckoning of being a manager. Then there was Jack.
It started with your little crush. Your eyes would linger on him as he passed, hands brushing purposefully as you would bring him and the twins (as you call them) coffee every morning. You couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles rippled as he pushed a wheelbarrow across the soil. Could not stop yourself from getting lost in thought watching the sun hit his pretty face. It was manageable though, a true workplace crush. For the purpose of making work more fun, and for that purpose alone. That is, until you swore he was doing the same to you.
At first you were imagining it for the sake of your own delusion. He made eye contact with you today! He smiled at you! He may as well be confessing his love. It felt like having a senior crush in high school that you would mourn when they graduated…. or a celebrity you would rave about on twitter. Nothing serious and nothing reciprocated. Then, as time went on you begin to notice the feeling of being watched. Often you will turn around to see Jack staring a hole into you. His hands begin to linger. He begins to lose his words as he speaks to you. You start to think maybe taking it past a workplace crush wouldn’t be so bad. How much could it really hurt to date a hot gardener? Nina chides you when you voice this aloud.
"We've just met the guy. He's kind of suspicious, where did he even come from? He never goes out drinking with us, and doesn't shows up to the group meetings. I don't even think he's in the work group chat." You make a mental note to add him to that. Jane could be forgetful. Nina continues on her rant. "Then, what happens if you break up? Things are going to be weird, too weird. This place is perfect, we all have good chemistry. We're like family. Dating him would be like friend group incest." You frown at the term she coins. You make her stop talking about friend group incest by dismissively agreeing with her. As you get home your still thinking about it. Despite your admission that it would be weird, you can't get the possibility off of your mind.
You stop when you realize that you should at least give it more time. Nina is right about one thing, your imagining that you are in love with a man you don't even know. You're obsessed with the idea of him. Relationships hadn't always worked out for you, in your high school years you'd dated some real freaks. Every time you got close to a guy you'd feel trapped and scared, like you were afraid to put a label on things and then endure whatever it was you signed up for. Daddy issues or something. On top of that, you had used your own blood for the sacrifice of purity. You obviously hadn't gotten very far relationship wise. You aren't sure if you really like Jack, but you like the concept — the personality you imagine that he has. If you are going to entertain this you at least need to get to know him better. Problem is, he's always acting like a loner. As you slide into bed for the night you resolve to make an effort to pull him into the friend group. You start by adding him to the group chat before you shut your phone off for the night.
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The morning is bright and sunny after a night of rain. Dew rests on the plants and flowers, and birds chirp pleasantly. The whole world is hazy and soft. The truck is here late which means you and Nina get to help. The two of you zip around the flower shop, making enough coffee for yourself and the boys. You slip them into carriers, eight total, before sliding out the back door and into the garden. As you walk with Nina you laugh about Jeff being late. “I’m sure Jane put him in his place, she always does.” She sighs in agreement. “If I’m not the one who gets Jeff it’ll be her. They have an enemies to lovers thing going on.” You give her a sympathetic look and elbow her gently, careful not to unbalance the coffee. “I’m sure if you would literally just make any sort of move you would get him. You are genuinely so hot and sexy, and in the nicest way possible, he is a rat. Plus I think Jane is a lesbian.” She giggles as she skips down the path ahead of you. “I don’t know about the rat part, but maybe you’re right.”
As the gate comes into view you can see bodies moving boxes and plants through the wire. Nina opens the gate for you and you slip through, hands full of coffee. You hear a grating voice. “Bought’ damn time!” You mentally groan. You saunter up to the driver's seat of the truck, the window is rolled down and Jeffery Woods hangs his arm out the side of it. His messy hair is all across his face, dark black in contrast to the white hoodie he insists on sporting. You give him a fake smile. “Jeffery. Nice to see you as always.” He grins. You’ve always found his unnaturally wide smile creepy. “Come on doll, pass a man some coffee, I’ve been driving all night.” You’re about to give the man coffee against your better judgment, but a sharp voice stops you in your tracks.
“Do not give him coffee until he gets out of that damn truck and helps.” You spin around to see your goth manager in all her glory. Her dark hair falls around her face in a style that reminds you of black and white movies. Her white makeup and dark lips stand out against each other, and the contacts she wears to make her pupils big and black make you think of something otherworldly. You like to brag about your boss. You brag about Nina too. You like when stores hire alternative people.
Jeff groans loudly. “Come on Janey, I’ve been driving all night for youuuu!” Jeff pleads, and you know the pet name is only going to fuel her wrath. She has a box against her hip and is obviously not taking his shit today. “You were five hours late. We have customers this time of day. The absolute least you can do is get off your ass and help.” Her tone is stern and he hangs his head in despair. You chuckle at his expense. “Come on Jefferey, you can have coffee as soon as you get out of the truck.” Picking a coffee cup out of the carrier you wave it in front of is face. He begrudgingly opens the door and hops out, snatching the coffee from you as he rounds the truck. You sigh.
You distribute the coffees to everyone else working… Tim, Brian, Toby and Jane. Nina circles back to get one from you after helping with a few boxes, and you take one for yourself too, so that leaves… Jack. “Have you seen Jack around?” Nina starts to laugh and chokes on her coffee a bit. “I think he’s in the shed making space for new boxes. Go give coffee to your man girl.” You slap her playfully as you roll your eyes.
When you approach the shed it’s silent, not a single sign of life. Suddenly there is a loud crash and a groan of pain. You rush inside to see Jack on the floor, pinned down by two boxes. Several more boxes surround him. You set the coffee down, pulling the boxes off of him and helping him up. “Are you ok?” He smiles, clearly embarrassed to be caught like this. Rubbing at his arm where a box had fallen on him he responds hoarsely: “Yeah, yup. Just a little caught off guard.” His voice sounds odd and as you step back you notice the state he’s in. Dark circles paint themselves across his eyes, and his skin has taken on a grayish complexion. His hair is slightly stringy, and he looks all together sick. Before you can stop yourself you reach to press the back of your hand against his forehead, he stands there in surprise. “Jack, you’re absolutely freezing. Are you sick? I know Jane can be scary, but if you talk to her she’ll give you the day off.” He just sits there for a moment, not knowing what to say. You hum the question again, and he waves his hands in defense, pulling your wrist down from his forehead and holding it between his fingers. You blush. “Thank you for your concern, but I really am fine. It’s just allergies. Spring always gets to me.” You eye him warily. Something is wrong with him. His body feels lifelessly cold. You know illnesses can make temperatures drop but you aren’t sure what to make of this.
“Alright, but at least take some coffee. I was actually trying to find you to give you one. Everyone else already got some.” He takes it gratefully, thanking you for your help as you turn to leave. He shoots you a little wave and it makes your stomach flip. God, that fine ass man. Somehow he's even hot when he looks like the walking dead.
You return to the truck, informing the group that you think Jack might be under the weather and that you all should use extra hand sanitizer just in case. Jeff makes a joke wishing the Garden employees good luck with that problem before he eventually speeds off. You lean over to Nina to whisper to her as you walk back towards the gate. "Did you get his number this time?" Nina rolls her eyes. "Strategy, patience."
───────────────
The next day Nina is exhausted. She walks in looking the same kind of sick that Jack did. It makes your heart drop. You really hope that whatever is going around won’t get you, especially since you had foolishly been all over Jack yesterday. Every time you had seen him you’d doted on him, checking his temperature, telling him to go talk to Jane and go home. You’d even made him some tea and thrown some salt and a simple healing spell over it. Now Nina looks the same way, if not worse.
“Nina, you look like hell. What happened, are you ok?” She hobbles past the counter and grabs an apron. “I don’t know. I was fine last night, but woke up today feeling like bloody murder.” She slips the apron over her head, wincing as she ties it around her waist. “My side is especially sore, it must be bruised or something. Maybe I hit myself when I was helping with the boxes yesterday.” You feel her forehead, it's warm but not feverish. “You know if you’re feeling sick you can ask Jane about going home. I can handle the shop for a day.” She sighs. “No, no, no.. I’m fine. Just sore. Not like it’s gonna stop me from playing with flowers.”
She says it lightly, making fun of the situation. However, when she comes in the following day she looks even worse. You have her sit in a chair by the cash register all day, only allowing her to take orders, while you handle everything else around the shop. She looks like a frail old lady. Her high pony tail droops and she's exchanged the wild scene outfits for something simpler and cozier. You don't think you've ever seen Nina out of alternative stuff. The sickness must be really affecting her. The bell rings, Jack walks in. You expect him to look worse than Nina at the rate she’s progressing, but he’s practically glowing. His skin is vibrant with color, his eyes wide and awake. If anything he looks better than he did before.
You wave him over to the counter. “Hey stranger. You’re looking better.” He nods and explains that it was just allergies and he’d gotten on some medication. “Well, allergies or not - whatever you have, you gave it to Nina.” He looks over to the girl curled up in blankets, sitting Indian style in the foldable chair you brought for her. A grimace frays at his face. “I’m not sure allergies work like that, but if I gave something to her I feel awful. I’ll bring her some tea and goodies tomorrow.” You smile gently - imagining what your parents might say.. ‘Such a thoughtful young man’.
“That’s sweet of you. I’m glad you're at least feeling better.” He toys with a pen on the counter. "Yeah, maybe I recovered so quick because of all your fussing yesterday." You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm mothering her too. You all whine but you can thank me when the sickness is gone." Nina drags herself out of her chair and over to your side. “What are the two of you talking about?” You steady her as she stands. “Oh, nothing. Go back to your chair.” She huffs in defiance, mumbling about feeling left out. Jack gives her a look of sympathy. “I’m sorry you’re feeling sick Nina. Hope you feel better soon.” She sighs in exasperation. “It’s not even sickness, it's just so much soreness and my stomach’s funny. Feels like my gut’s been rearranged.” You both frown at her. Jack pipes up, "Maybe you sprained something? You could try seeing a physical therapist? Have you seen a regular doctor yet?" Giving him a dry look she shakes her head. "It's going to pass on it's own, I can tell. No use taking off of work or wasting money." She turns to go back to her chair and hisses at the slight movement. “I mean seriously, is there a massive bruise here or what?” She lifts up the shirt around her waist and you gasp.
“What is that?” You blurt. Nina looks down. “What’s what?” She twists in circles, trying to see what you’re seeing. When she finally catches sight of it she has to grip the counter for stability. Along her tummy runs a freshly stitched wound. It snakes around her side and down towards the middle of her stomach. The stitches are red and angry, no wonder she’s been feeling like shit. “Did you have surgery recently?” Nina looks up at you, her eyes are wide and panicked. She whispers it, barely audible. “No.” Your stomach drops. “What do you mean ‘no’? You have stitches, what happened?” She can’t stop staring at them and honestly you can’t either. “I mean that I didn’t even know this was here… someone did this to me without me knowing. I don’t… I can’t-” She looks like she’s going to hurl.
You instantly call Jane. Explaining the situation over the phone… none of it sounds believable. The proof is there, in front of your eyes, as real as it can possibly be. “Ok, hold on. I’m on my way. I’ll take her to the ER and get her checked on, I need you to stay and run the shop.” You don’t want to leave Nina alone, but you know Jane has it under control. She pulls her car round back and you help Nina through the door until Jane takes over. She hooks her arm under Nina’s, steadying her as they walk towards Jane’s truck. You call after them. “Call me if anything happens!” All you receive from your manager is a nod. You trudge back inside as you hear the truck roar to life and crunch over the gravel. Jack is gone. You sit in the chair you brought for Nina pondering what just happened. How did she not notice the scar? How would someone have operated on her without her knowing? Could she have hurt herself and someone patched her up? Why would she forget that though? The thoughts spin around your head, making you dizzy.
You carry out your job in a daze. Around two you get a call from Jane and you nearly jump out of your skin. The customer you are with notices your urgency and offers to wait while you take it. As you scramble to the back you pull the phone to your ear. “Hey. Any news?” Jane sounds tense over the phone. “Yeah, the doctors have seen her. She’s fine, but it looks like someone operated on her. Removed her kidney.” A chill runs down your back. “What the fuck? It wasn’t like a surgery? How did it happen?” She fumbles over her words as she talks. “Nina doesn’t have any memory of it and there are no records of it happening at a hospital. We called around. The doctors say it was done well, that whoever did it knows what they were doing.” You can’t hide your disbelief. “So what, some psychopath just crept in, stole her kidney, and sewed her back together?” You can hear the lurch in her throat. It’s unnerving to the both of you. “We don’t know, the police are on their way to talk to her. Whatever the case, a surgery like this requires days of bed rest. She’s going to have at least the next week off.” You nod to no one in particular, taking in the information. You and Jane wrap up the call, but if anything your mind is fuzzier than it was before. You struggle helping the customers as your thoughts race.
Who could have possibly done this? Is it someone you know? Could it be someone here, at the garden? Is there a man on the loose in your city, preforming freak operations on people? You have to sit down for a minute and mentally coach yourself to handle the rest of the day. Right now, Nina is safe. That is what matters. You need to push this out of your mind and focus on doing your job.
───────────────
The next week passes in a blur. Police are crawling around the place. Each of you is questioned. They search her house. There’s nothing. No unusual fingerprints, no trace of the operation left behind, absolutely nothing. Jack starts to help in the flower shop. You think he can tell that you're spiraling. The Nursery didn’t really need that many gardeners anyways, so Jane didn’t mind. He's kind, helping you when you forget forget your words and trying to keep you hydrated. You’re thankful for the extra help.
To your disadvantage things are just going plain wrong. A lingering suspicion in your gut ties it back to you. Everything has you on edge. Your monthly full moon ritual is intense and you banish as much negative energy as possible. You sprinkle sale around the edges of your house and draw sigils on the doors and windows. The possibility of a person sneaking into your house and digging around in your guts without your awareness felt so invasive. You almost begin to fear it more than death. It's terrifying. You visit Nina a few times and Jack comes too. He delivers on that promised tea and goodie bag. She's doing better and promises that no one should be worried. No matter how hard you try to push it out of your mind, you can't shake the fear that whatever happened to Nina might happen to you next.
Luckily, Nina makes a full recovery. Things don't go back to normal, but they get better. She returns to work where the whole group dotes on her like a baby. Toby pops in with snacks, drinks, and little trinkets he finds here and there. Brian doesn't say much, but his hands are always there, hovering as she walks up the steps or moves around to recklessly. The best way you can describe him is as a safety net, there just in case. Tim makes a daily round to the flower shop, checking in on her while pretending not to care. Even Jane is softer towards her. Additionally, Jack is becoming a bigger part of your little family every day. He starts to come out on weekend nights, hitting bars with the group. He never stays long, but his presence is nice.
On one such night you and Nina close up shop early. It's a typical weeknight and business is been sparce. You bustle through closing activities in anticipation for the Hibachi meal Jane had promised on the condition of raised sales. It was a condition she didn't actually think would be met. The group didn't think it would be met either- it had happened purely by accident. Hibachi is hibachi though, and a tasty meal would be perfect to distract from the lingering horror of Nina's misfortune. As you run out the door you catch sight of Jack walking to his car. You tug on Nina's sleeve and the two of you skip up to him, cheeks flushed. "Hey! Are you coming tonight?" Jack smiles at you both and gives you an inquisitive look. "Coming to what, exactly?" You mentally face palm, remembering that Jack hadn't been here when Jane made the exasperated promise. Nina cuts in before you can explain. "Months ago, before you started working, Jane said if we raised sales she'd treat us all to a hibachi dinner. Apparently we accidentally did it. Toby figured it out and now she's actually following through! You should totally come!" Jack's smile wavers and he rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. "I don't know, I'm pretty busy… I-" You cut him off. "Busy with what? Come onnn you never hang out for long. Just one night! It's free food!" You lock eyes with him, pouting ever so slightly. The blush that tints his cheeks doesn't go unnoticed. "Ah- fine. I'll go. Text me the address?" You jump excitedly as you pull it up and text him. Nina grins. "We'll see you there!"
As you leave him she shoots you a look. You bite your lip and raise your eyebrows, a silent plea to 'wait till we get in the car'. You had picked Nina up before work that morning so the two of you could drive together. As you tumble into the front seat she's giggling. "Oh my god, what happened to workplace crush????" You thumb at the steering wheel as you start the car, turning on the heater to clear the condensation on the windshield. "Nothing! I haven't done anything! That's all him." She elbows you as you back out of the parking-lot and you yelp. "I know I was opposed… but if you actually get together I want to be the first to know." You roll your eyes at her as you speed down the country roads back towards the city. "Trust, it's not like I'm going to be gossiping to Brian about it."
The hibachi grill is warm and inviting. The orange lights strung across the ceiling make the air feel comfortable, and as your group shuffles in you smile. When everyone is sitting around the table laughing and joking you feel at home. Somehow Jeff had conveniently timed his truck run to overlap and had coerced Jane into letting him come (he'd just shown up after hearing about it from Toby). So now Jane and Jeff are playfully bickering as Nina laughs at Jeff's awful comebacks. Tim, Brian, and Toby are talking garden stuff and you can't help but just enjoy the surrounding conversation. This is your family. Jack is yet to show up and you worry that you might've been too pushy when inviting him. Whatever the case these are your people, wasting time thinking about him won't do you any good.
"What do you think?" You're snapped out of thought by Toby's question. You look up to see the three men looking at you expectantly. "Sorry, what was the question? I spaced out." Brian chuckles and you give him a look. Toby repeats himself. "Is it easier to work the greenhouse or the at the florist?" You furrow your brows in thought. "Well I mean, you lift heavy stuff but we've got tons of orders. We supply weddings, party's, tons of custom stuff. We literally have to sort out every flower and make sure it looks perfect. I say florist." Toby laughs incredulously. "Not true I have just as many orders as you. I handle the orders for plants and hardware, tools, decorations.. et cetera. You even know how much shit farmers buy?" You use your hand to mimic his talking, earning a chuckle from Brian. Tim cuts in with his own opinion. "You lot have it easy. Me and Brian are the real workers. We're in the dirt every day. I'm get hired to haul ass and take care of yards all over town and Brian is the one keeping your gardens nice. We're the ones doing actual manual labor." You and Toby both respond in protest and Brian just laughs, neither confirming nor denying his stance.
"Yeah! Me, Brian, and Jack doing alllll the work around here. Keeping it looking nice and pretty so customers actually want to buy your leaves." A voice behind you all joins in. "Sorry, we're doing what?" The four of you spin around to see Jack standing there clueless behind you. Brian starts laughing harder. He's in a good mood tonight you suppose. "Jack!" Tim exclaims. "I was just explaining to these kids how we're indispensable and carry the Nursery." You retort quickly. "Yeah well even if you grow all the plants in the world you need us to sell the stuff. Your not exactly all there in the social skills department." Toby shouts in approval of your comeback. You divert your attention to Jack. Sitting on one side of you is Nina, but there's an open seat on your right. "Hey. Glad you could make it, saved you a seat." You pat the high top chair awkwardly, and he grins as he shuffles in. You've only seen Jack outside of work a few times, but you never get over how handsome he is in everyday clothes. It's nothing crazy, a ribbed black turtle neck, jeans that sit low on his hips with a smart belt, dress shoes. He looks the way you imagine dark academia men do. It suits him. The conversation dims around you as he takes the seat. His arm brushes against yours and your breath hitches. Heat blooms across your face and butterflies swarm against your skin.
"Weren't sure you'd make it." It's quiet, spoken under your breath. You're not even sure he's heard it. He turns towards you making direct eye contact. His eyes are consuming, you feel like he might swallow you whole the minute they're on you. It makes you squirm. "Wouldn't miss it." There's something under his voice - an invitation. No, you must be crazy. You turn back towards the boys, pulling Jack with you into the group conversation. The night continues on. The chef puts on a good show, attempting to shoot vegetables into Toby's mouth - who takes it so seriously that he sabotages himself. Brian catches one and the table cheers. Jane catches one between her teeth and Nina calls her mother. Jeff tries to do the same and chokes on the chunk of food. Nina still whispers 'daddy' under her breath and your caught between gagging and laughter. Jack's hand rubs against yours every so often and you'll turn to make eye contact, only to look away with a blush on your face. It's quiet, comfortable, homey. As the food comes in rounds you all eat your fill. Toby is the first to make a joke about unbuttoning his jeans and everyone follows suit, laughing about the fullness that follows the impressive show.
At a certain point in the night Jack leans over to whisper to you. "Thank you for inviting me. I'm glad I came, but I do have to go soon. Not that I don't want to be here (with you), but I really am busy." You look into his eyes searchingly and you can tell he's not lying. You notice his skin isn't as warm as it once was and the circles under his eyes have returned. Is it just those allergies again or sleepless nights? You wonder what he's busy with, but you don't pry. "If you have to leave… Can I walk you back to your car?" The ghost of a smile pulls at his face, he looks like a little kid hiding a grin, He remains composed. "I'd like that." You both stand. Jack gives some half-hearted excuse for why he has to go. He ears several groans and 'drive safe's. You smile and offer to the bustling table that you will be right back. You don't miss the knowing looks a few of them shoot you. Jane winks. *Lesbians*. You roll your eyes at the few who are catching on and run after Jack to catch up. It's not cold outside, but you shove your hands into your sweater pockets as if it is.
You leave the store, stepping into the night air and breathing deeply. "It's just over this way. Not far." You nod giddily. "So, did you have fun? I know we can be pretty tight knit, but I think the group's warming up to you." Jake smiles honestly, without any attempt to hide it. He ruffles your hair, a gesture that takes you by surprise. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to you. "Why are you trying so hard to involve me?" You blush and look towards your shoes. Thumbs fidget against your sweater as you attempt to cook up a response. "I… I know how hard it is to find an in sometimes. I always had a hard time making friends, but this group is really great. You work here now, your one of us. I guess I just want you to feel like your apart of the family." Jack nods, listening intently. "That's the only reason?" You begin walking again, nearing his car. Your voice drops in volume. Your afraid to be bold with him. "I suppose there could be one other.. thing." His car lights up as he unlocks it. He stops once more. "Mhm, and what could that be?" He's got a smug look on his face, but it's gentle. He knows what he's asking, yet he's not mean about it. You can tell he feels something too. "I could want you around for my own reasons."
Jack is standing right in front of you now, his closeness is paralyzing. He smells of earth, pine trees, and a hint of vanilla. His head dips down and yours tips up. You can feel his breath against your face as you stare at each other. "I suppose I could be showing up for my own reasons as well…" He says it low and breathy. Your breath freezes and your face grows hot. He leans in. The air you're breathing is recycled. The second it leaves your lips it's his. His mouth ghosts over yours. The sweater you have on is too hot, yet you're so, so cold. You're shivering where you stand. One of his hands wraps around your waist, the other comes to the side of your face. Your own hands grasp his shoulders out of instinct. You feel lost to the sea, it's as if he is the only thing that can keep you afloat. You grip tighter. "Jack.." He breathes your name back to you. He leans in further, you close your eyes in anticipation. Nothing ever comes. He pulls away — gently, not all at once. His hands leave your body and come to rest on your fingers which grip the shoulders of his coat. "We-" He stops himself. "I shouldn't. it's not.. We shouldn't-" You cut him off with a sad smile. "I know. You're right. It could mess everything up. The reason I keep inviting you is because I want you to feel like you have a home with us too. I won't jeopardize that." He looks like he has more to say, but only nods in response. You remove your hands from his shoulders and take a step back. "Get home safe Jack." He looks towards the pavement underneath his dress shoes. "You too. Goodnight."
───────────────
You stay at the grill with your coworkers awhile longer, but the melancholy of your interaction with Jack weighs you down. Nina notices something and asks what's up, but you brush it off with a smile and a laugh that you must've eaten something that disagrees with you. You decide to stick to that excuse and gather your things, asking Nina if she's ok to get a ride with Jane. She nods enthusiastically and walks you to your car. You keep the smile plastered onto your face until your in the car and at least a mile down the road before you let the overthinking consume you. When you pull into the apartment parking you sit there, hands patting against your head in frustration. "Stupid, stupid, stupid…" You need a bath to clear your mind. You step out of the car and a cold wind that shouldn't be there hits you. It nips at your still warm cheeks and pulls at your bag, almost pushing you up the stairs. You stumble, gripping your purse as you envision what herbs you might add into your bath tonight. Should you focus on clearing your mind or banishing the negative energy of the experience? What Is going to make you forget how awkward that was? A flashing light in the parking lot you just came from catches your attention. What are the police doing here? Sirens ring, the wind blows harder, the world feels off. A shiver of anticipation runs up your spine. The reason is unclear.
You creep further up the stairs, wanting to be out of sight and in your room if the cops going to be all over the place. As you fumble with your keys Kitty meows from the other side of the door. "I know, I know baby. Hold on." You can't seem to find the right key and the wind is blowing you even harder, pushing hair into your face and making it hard to say the key ring. The meow sounds again, but it's not coming from inside your apartment. You look behind you to see the neighbor cat, Lucy. What's she doing out here? She howls desperately, clearly lost and afraid of the wind. A groaning, creaking sound draws your vision. You look over to the sound, wondering if you've made it up. You're neighbors door is wide open. That's odd. "Come here Lucy baby, let's find your mamma."
You shove the keys in your pocket and scoop the cat up, inching towards the open door. The police you were hoping to avoid are milling about inside. Your next door neighbor is a middle aged woman, divorced - single. She keeps to herself and doesn't bother you much. you know she sees her kid every so often, shared custody. Aside from that she's as much of a cat mom as you. Lucy wouldn't be out here if she were ok. You slip into the apartment quietly. A woman in uniform notices you, nodding to you and gesturing to stay there. You plant your feet awkwardly, stroking the cat in what you hope is a calming reassurance. After a few moments the woman approaches you. "Ma'am I'm officer Cortez, what is your relationship to Diana Birch?" You frown at the mention of your neighbors full name. So something had happened to her. "Nothing really, I'm just her neighbor. I found her cat outside my door. Can I ask what happened?" The officer looks at her notepad, then back up to you warily. "I suppose we're going to be asking you some questions anyways.. Tonight someone broke in and operated on Ms. Birch in her sleep. One of her kidney's was harvested and taken. She has no recollection of the event." Your heart drops and your throat becomes tight. A sense of dread washes over you. "Do you know anything about this?"
Notes: Yayayay if you made it to the end! Tag list is open, comment to be added!
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"The knight who is posted outside your door, sworn to protect the princess. Yet he cannot protect himself from the sounds that grace his ears as your restless fingers slip between your thighs."
PAIRING.⟡ - Knight! Gojo x Princess! reader
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You lie on your side, face turned into the pillows in an attempt to keep yourself silent... one that isn't working. You know it's awful, and he can probably hear you, but you can't bring yourself to care.
Maybe you even want him to hear. You want him to know how desperate you are. For him to walk through the door right now. You want him to see you with your hands between your thighs, to call you a dirty little slut, and finish the job that your own pathetic fingers can't.
With growing unease throughout the kingdom and an assassin on the loose, it's only natural that security should be heightened. The king had declared that every member of the royal family should have a guard stationed outside their door. However, it's been over a month, and you have... needs. It doesn't help that the knight posted at your door was so fucking fine. You've been repressing yourself for far too long, and out of pure desperation, you don't care anymore.
Oh, but he cares.
He hears every moan and whimper, every shift of your body across the sheets, and he curses under his breath at the thought that it's your hands between your thighs and not his. He envisions you dragging your fingers across your puffy folds, the slick that spreads between them as you furiously rub your clit in a desperate search for release. His breath is heavy in his chest, and his armor is far, far too tight. You have created hell on earth for him, and you don't even know it. The poor, sweet princess with her fingers shoved in her pussy.. whining in frustration. He could do it so much better for you.
This routine goes on three nights in a row. Each night, Satoru bears the aching heat of hearing you. Come morning, he is released from his position, and the very second he is back in his quarters, he peels his armor off. He paws at the fabric of his tunic, hand gripped around his cock, thinking of all the delicious sounds you'd made all night. If only, IF ONLY it were him. He cums every time with the breath of your name on his lips.
Tonight, something is different. He's barely had any sleep, and the other members of the guard can be so incompetent. He can tell you feel it too as you stride towards your room with a furrow in your brow and your eyes towards the ground. You storm into the room, and he hears you through the door, tossing clothes around and brushing your hair with agitated vigor. The night progresses, and once again he begins to hear your sounds, but he can tell you're still frustrated. Your whines and whimpers turn into pitifully angry groans. They stir and abate as if you can't seem to get yourself all the way there. So close, yet he can tell you're trying again and again to no avail. After the long day and the lack of sleep- maybe he's delusional, but he holds his breath as he knocks on your door.
You nearly jump as you pull your night dress down and gather the sheets around you, sitting up in bed.
"May I help you?" You croak.
He chuckles to himself at the question. He should be the one asking that. He begins to have second thoughts but your voice is treacherously soft and he knows he's already to far gone.
"May I come in, princess?"
You swallow in anticipation and embarrassment as heat floods your cheeks. It was mortifying.. yes. However, you've been so very, very pent up. You've given up trying to keep yourself quiet. Perhaps you do want Satoru to hear. You couldn't help but notice him as he sparred with the younger knights on the castle grounds. Broad shoulders, large hands, and that hint of feminine charm that makes men unreasonably attractive. You bite your lip.
"Yes. You may."
The door opens with a soft *click* and Satoru steps in. You hold eye contact for almost a minute before he sighs and removes his sword from his belt, placing it against the door.
"Sir Gojo."
"Look, princess. I know what you do these nights." He taps on the wall. "These are paper-thin."
You look towards the ground, unable to hold his gaze as he moves toward the bed, stepping out of his armor until he's in a tunic and the loose pants that he wears underneath. Your eyes drift towards the noticeable problem he faces between his legs, now visible through the thin fabric, and you feel your mouth water.
"I can make you feel so good. Take care of you, give you what you need. I know you think about it. I think you want me to hear you. Want me thinking about that pussy. 'Bought how good you taste... How well you could take me."
Your eyes lift to meet his again, and he is inches away from you, standing at the foot of your bed with one knee on the mattress, the other still planted on the floor, as if he's waiting.
"Would you like that, princess? Would you like me to help you? Reach all those spots that you can't get?"
You nod shyly, drawing the sheets further around you.
"Fraid' I can't give you what you want until I hear you say it M'lady."
"Yes, Sir Go-"
"Saturo," He whispers.
Yes, Saturo.. please help me"
It comes out as a breath, barely a whisper. But that's all he needs. He's on the bed in an instant, hands coming to cup your face as his lips crash against yours. You allow the weight of the kiss to push you back into the pillows as he cages you with his body. He's so fucking big... I mean, he's a knight for a reason. His body completely covers yours, making you feel so fucking small. He takes hold of your wrists as he moves to place open-mouth kisses down your neck. He pauses to smile against your skin as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and slides the other along your neck. He chuckles, and you feel puffs of breath against the wet skin, making you shiver.
"Feeling protected yet? You know what the king would do to me if he found me here?"
He moves to look directly at you and puts a finger to his lips.
"You're going to need to stay quiet for me princess. Quieter then you've been these past few nights."
You nod, rubbing your thighs together and wiggling in his grasp.
"I will, I promise.. just please.."
Tears prick your eyes with the desperation that weighs in your voice. Nights of unsuccessful attempts at taking care of yourself have you willing to do anything.
"Impatient, aren't we?"
He sits up, pulling his tunic over his head to reveal rippling muscles and a toned torso. His hands pull away the sheets you've gathered around yourself to see the disheveled state you're in, and he leans back to take it in. Lacy pink panties hang loose around your ankles. Your night gown is bunched up around your thighs, and he catches a glimpse of your pussy from beneath it. Your cheeks are flushed, your hair is tousled, and tears prick your eyes. To think he'd ever see the princess in such a state.
"Aw, poor baby. You've been trying to get off all night, haven't ya? I'm sorry I left you waiting so long, sweet thing."
Fingers creep up your thighs, moving to take your nightgown off.
"I'm here now. Let me make it better.."
He savors each inch of skin that is revealed. Once you are bare in front of him, his hands trace your curves, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He rubs your thighs, nails digging into the plush skin as he moves your legs to sit around his waist. Leaning in, he whispers
"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."
Calloused fingers cup your breasts as open-mouth kisses trail across your collarbone. You arch into his touch instinctively. His mouth draws its attention to your nipples, taking one into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it as he looks up at you through hooded eyes. He sucks and laves at the bud, coaxing soft noises out past your lips. Your hand goes to his hair, carding through the white strands and pulling his head back ever so slightly to get a better look at his face.
"Toru..." You whine.
Satoru mumbles something, squeezing your breasts together and taking both nipples between his teeth. Heat pools in your tummy as he works. You're growing impatient. You push his forehead away, and he groans in protest.
"Satoru. I've been trying for hours... I need it."
His lips tug into a smirk as he pulls away, trailing his fingers down your waist.
"Patience, your highness. I ought to go back out to that hallway and resume my post. But I'm here.. let me take my time on you."
His hands come back to cup your tits.
"So soft."
You squirm against him, bucking your hips against the fabric of his pants, trying to find some sort of friction. He abandons your chest and moves his hands down to squeeze at the plush of your inner thighs. He trails his finger closer and closer, finding the inner crease of your thigh and stopping there. His eyes dart back to yours, unwavering.
"Can I taste you?"
You hesitantly nod. He moves back to lie on his chest, pulling your legs over his shoulders and finding a snug position between your thighs. His fingers press into your waist as his breath fans across your pussy lips. His eyes look up to yours again, searching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort, before gluing themselves back to your dripping cunt. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and you clench at nothing. Your body burns under his gaze. You screw your eyes shut in anticipation.
His tongue flattens itself against your pussy, licking a fat stripe up from your aching hole to your buzzing clit. You shudder at the unfamiliar sensation. One of his hands leaves your waist to intertwine his fingers with yours and clutch at your hand. He returns to your puffy, sad clit- sore from attempt after attempt to get yourself off, yet so deliciously sensitive. You can't seem to stop the moan that slips past your lips. Satoru mumbles something about being quiet into your cunt, but the vibrations only serve to draw more cries. His lips latch onto your clit as his free hand comes down to test your entrance. They circle once, twice... before one finds its way in.
He begins pumping his fingers inside you, curving them in a way that hits justttt righttt. Butterflies explode in your stomach, the long-awaited pleasure taking your breath away. His lips release your clit with a wet pop, and he grins.
"Feel good, baby? I fucking bet it does..."
His fingers hit a particular spot, and you have to cover your mouth to muffle the sound that leaves your body.
"Need you to cum for me. Can you do that?"
You hardly register the words, but you manage to repeat:
"Yesyesyesyes."
You chant the word over and over again like a mantra.
Your eyes squeeze shut once more as you anticipate the sensation pooling in your core.
"So close Toru' I need it!"
Satoru smiles against your cunt as he lowers his face to suckle at your clit again, the added stimulation pushing you towards the edge.
"I can't... fuckkkk! toru' I'm-"
Hands bury themselves in his hair as you reach your climax, thighs trapping him exactly where he wants to be. He removes his fingers, tongue lapping up your release and easing you down from your high. Your body trembles and you fall limp into the pillows, blissfully dazed.
He chuckles as he crawls up your body to plant a kiss on your lips, and you taste yourself on his tongue.
"You did so good for me, pretty girl."
Toru drags his face away from yours to slide down the fabric still left on his body. When his dick comes into view, you choke a bit.
"Ready for it?"
Your jaw hangs open ever so slightly, eyes wide.
"Toru, that's not going to fit in me."
He chuckles. The comment goes straight to his ego, despite how often he hears something similar. Every fair maiden wants to fuck a rugged knight. He knows it will fit. It always does.
"Yes it will pretty. Shhh, don't worry 'bout it. I promise I'll go slow for you. Gon' make you feel good."
His hands come up to caress your face before traveling down between your bodies. One hand rubs distracting circles against your clit as the other lines his leaky tip up with your twitching entrance. He kisses you on the cheek before directing you to keep your eyes on his. Those piercing blue eyes bore into you, clouding your mind. You muster all of your courage not to look down, but you can tell just from the tip tapping on your pussy that it's going to be a fucking stretch.
He nudges the tip inside, and you sound something ungodly as a cry is wretched from your throat. You burrow your face into his neck, holding him close as he continues to push inside of you bit by bit. He stops about midway.
"Fuck- *hah* You.. you ok baby? How you doin'? You wan me to stop here for a m-inute?"
His voice is breathy, and his chest is heaving. The stretch burns the slightest bit but it's overwhelmed by the pleasure spreading up inside of you. The thumb on your clit doesn't stop, and the idea of having him fully inside of you is becoming a necessity.
"No.. no please Satoru. Keep- keep going please."
"Need you to relax for me." *shit* He pants as he continues to push on. "It's ok baby, it's just me. It's just me."
You force yourself to relax as he pushes further towards your core. He finally bottoms out and just rests there with you for a moment, peppering kisses against your face as he adjusts your leg to allow a better angle.
"Is it ok for me to move?"
Your words die in your throat, and all you can offer is a desperate little nod. Lucky he's as desperate as you are, or he might've forced the words out of you, but he just sighs with a smirk and offers you an:
"All right then."
His hips pull out slowly, and you whine at the loss. He takes you in for a minute before thrusting back in - still slow. He continues like that, allowing you to adjust to his length before he picks up the pace. Gradually at first, until he's pushing your legs towards your shoulders, leaning in to grasp your hand as he hits a spot that makes you sob. Tears of relief streak down your face. Tears of finally getting fucked exactly the way you need. He coos at you as his hips slam against yours and laps the tears off of your cheeks, kissing you so you can taste the salt on his lips. The noise of skin against skin is wet and lewd, and Satoru's pace has become unrelenting. Through dizzying pleasure, worries of being caught prick the back of your mind. The thoughts are gone before they even surfaces as you submit yourself to the absolute force of nature that is Saturo Gojo.
"You're doing so good for me, baby. So fucking good. Yes, you are *fuck!* yes you are.”
His hand brushes your hair out of your face as he babbles praise into your ear. His hand returns again to your clit as he coerces you towards the edge once more.
“Ta-aking me so- so fucking good. Such a good fucking girl."
Your breathing quickens and your body tenses as you feel it brewing in your stomach. Your hands grip Satoru's back. Clawing their way across his skin. They hardly make a dent in the broad knight's skin. You mewl and whine as the tip hits a spongey spot inside of you that you didn't know existed. His thumb rubs furious figure eights into your cunt, and your eyes fly open, drawn to his.
"Toru' I'm close. I'm so c-close." you sob "wanna- wanna cum with you."
He grunts as he angles his hips.
"Oh, really?" He intends it to come out smug, but you can tell he's as far gone as you are.
"You wanna cum with me?"
He hits that spot again, and you choke out a whiney "Yes, Saturo, I need it- need it p-please ", his thumb on your clit, making your head fuzzy.
"F- fucking do it then. Don't run from i-it. Cum for me, pretty."
Your head tips back, and your lips part in a silent scream as you reach the brink. He leans down to roughly kiss you as the wave of release crashes over you. He moans into your mouth as he feels liquid pooling beneath you and running down the base of his dick, dripping down his balls.
"Holy shit, princess."
The sight of you squirting on him sends him over the edge, and his hips stutter as he pulls you into his body. He hums into the crook of your neck and his grip tightens. Thick ropes of cum fill your cunt, leaving a frothy ring around the base of his dick as he shallowly thrusts a few more times to ride out his high. He stays inside of you like that for a minute, panting. His eyes search your own as the aftershocks of both your realeases wash over you. Your face is molded into a hazy, fucked-out smile. Satoru grins, gently poking at your forehead.
"Should've been doing this since night one..."
He huffs as he pulls out, and you shiver at the loss. Your pussy drips with your mixed releases. He lies next to you on his side, propping his head up on one arm. You sigh and turn to face him. He sits studying your face for what seems forever as you regain your senses. Finally, after some time he teases:
"Were my... *services* as a knight well suited to your needs, your highness?"
You turn your face into the pillows to hide, the realization that you'd just allowed a knight to fuck you in your quarters rushing through your head.
"Satoru, this absolutely cannot get out." Your voice comes muffled through the pillows.
The knight chuckles.
"Don't worry, princess, I'm not the one who has a problem keeping their mouth shut."
You huff and throw a pillow in his general direction without looking. You hear a thud, and Satoru's laughing falters, so you assume success. He smiles softly at your buried face. He's already contemplating the next few nights at his station. If there really was an assassin loose, wouldn't the best way to protect you be staying as close as possible anyway?
"Return to your post, Sir Gojo. Before someone notices you're gone."
You hear Satoru shift, and a hand against the side of your cheek lifts your face from the pillows. Your flushed face burns against the cool air, and his expression grows smug as he recognizes the effect he has on you.
"As you wish, princess."
--
Sir Saturo Gojo's list of duties spans on. He trains the younger knights, holds a post at the palace gates, escorts royal officials on their comings and goings, and guards the princess's door by night. His favorite duty on this list, however, comes to be keeping her royal highness' pussy stuffed full in the following nights. Slipping into her room as soon as he knows he won't be bothered. Letting their bodies collide as he urges her to keep quiet. This is the best way to protect the princess after all. How much closer can he be to her?
If anyone asks, he's defending her from a presumed ruthless assassin and definitely not from a rumor he made up in hopes of getting closer to her majesty.
Kirishima who is so sweet. Practically made of sugar.. until your behind closed doors.
He’s so nice to everyone. Such a little angel! Your friends are always telling you how lucky you are to have such a sweetheart on your hands. They all coo as he walks by, telling you how lovely you look today and dropping a kiss on your lips before slipping away. They assume he’s an angel in the bedroom too. You only smile and nod.
When he does finally get you alone he’s cruel. He has you on top of him, meaty hands gripping your hips and leaving red indents in the plush skin. He slides you up and down his cock, chuckling as you whine.
“S’ too much Eiji. Can’t- can’t-“
“Can’t what sweet thing? Can’t get enough of my dick?”
You're on your nth orgasm of the night and holding on for dear life. At first you were eager to ride him, but when your fucked out little body couldn’t take it anymore Eijiro took it into his own hands. He flips you over onto your back and you nearly fall asleep, exhausted. However her lines himself up with your entrance and thrusts into you, wrapping his thick fingers around your neck to wake you up.
“Practically begging for it, wearing that slutty little skirt out. *hah* fucking animals couldn’t keep their eyes of-f you”
You whine in response as you feel him hitting all the right places inside you. His hands move to push your legs back and he hits even deeper, leaning down to mumble in your ear.
“I know what you wan’- fuckin pretty slut, jus begging to be filled up.” *hah, fuck!* he grunts. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
His breath is hot on your neck and when one hand slips down to draw circles around your clit you mewl. You know what he wants to hear but it’s so much. His cock bullying your hole at a brutal pace, his fingers on your clit, his breath on your neck. He’s all around you and inside you, it’s all Eijiro. He fills your senses. You’re stuffed full of him. You feel your high approaching and you whine. The question is long forgotten. He kisses your cervix with each stroke and his fingers rub deliciously sloppy circles against your clit. You feel yourself arching off the bed, nails clawing down his back. You moan languidly.
“Eiji I-“
Just like that it all stops. He pulls out, pulls away, just entirely separates himself from you.
“Let’s try that one more time.”
Your whining at the loss and your eyes slip to the floor. He grabs your chin forcing your gaze to meet his.
“Who's this cunt belong too?”
“You Eiji! S’ all for you!”
You can’t help but sob.
“See, that’s what I thought. Wasn’t so hard was it baby?”
He’s kissing away your tears and cooing at you as he pushes his way inside you again. His voice is soft in stark contrast to the way he manhandles you like a doll. His mouth attaches itself to your collarbone, and he groans into your skin.
“This pussy's all mine. Need you t' take this dick like a good fucking girl. I know you can. Know you can do it f'me.”
You sob as you once again approach your release.
"I can! I c-an! Wanna take it for you! Need you to fill me up pleasepleasepleaseEijipleaseohmygodddd."
Eijiro chuckles at just how fucked out you are. He holds your cock-drunk little face in his hands and he can see the stars dancing behind your eyes as you approach your high. He reaches down to again press circles into your bud and you grip him like your soul is leaving your body. He groans in your ear.
"I'm almost there baby. Gon' give it all to you. Fill m-y girl up.. put a fucking b-baby n you. You want that?"
Your chanting his name like a prayer, can't even register what he's saying.
"Cum with me baby."
Your body goes rigid and you arch your back, trembling, as the waves of your release wash through you. Eijiro's hips stutter once, then twice as he cums inside of you, cradling your body and burying his face in your neck. He rides it out with a few more gentle strokes, rubbing your clit a few more times to push you through your orgasm, before he comes to a stop. He rests there comfortably inside of you for a minute. You sigh exhaustedly and go limp into his touch, letting him cradle you as you both catch your breath. A smirk graces his lips as his eyes travel down your body, landing on your sopping cunny.
"Oh no sweet thing you made such a big mess. Looks like I need to clean you up..."
He slips down to settle his face between your thighs, and grins at you sweetly, before hoisting your legs over his shoulders and settling his hands on your waist. He pulls your dripping pussy towards his mouth. You pant heavily as your hands find purchase in his hair. He laps up the mixture of cum and squirt dripping out of you and tongue fucks it back into you as you squirm at the soreness.
"Such a mess.." He moans into your folds, sending delicious shivers through your spine. Your pussy flutters. Your fingers card through his hair as you moan his name.
"Eiji *hah* you're gonna drive me crazy I can'tttt"
He continues to tongue your cunt, lidded, glassy eyes holding contact with yours.
"I don't really care baby m' gonna make you"
Eijiro Kirishima is all smiles and sunshine until he has you to himself.
ᓚᘏᗢ TAGS: Fem reader, fingering (receiving), reader's first sexual experience, unprotected piv, implied yandere Flins. MDNI; ageless and blank blogs don't interact.
ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: Finding yourself in an unfamiliar room, you soon discover it's thanks to a kind ratnik who came to your rescue. Just in time before you died. However, there's a constant feeling that there's more than meets the eye regarding your hospitable savior.
ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 6k+
ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: oh...oh lord.....this oneshots long overdue since it was part of last years kinktober.........😭i think this is the longest oneshot ive written recently :'D i finished faster the parts i thought i would struggle with and the ones i thought would be easier........i struggled a little :'D idk why haha but its here finallyyyy | ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ . . . GENSHIN MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 2025 MASTERLIST
A sting jolted you awake from your slumber, eyes seeking the origin of it.
It first lands on the hand holding a gauze, using it to clean the wound on your abdomen. All that your drowsy mind allowed you to do was to blink, any sense of urgency akin to faint murmurs in the back of your head.
Next, they traveled upwards, past the black sleeve of his coat, the silver belts near his shoulder… You lingered a second longer than necessary on the general visage of his face before you ended your journey in his pale yellow irises. Both eerie from the unusual color to the lack of a visible pupil.
That’s when the urgency that lay dormant during previous minutes burst into your chest, urging you to sit up and stutter questions you can’t formulate yet.
Despite your clumsy attempts at grasping at what clues you could to understand your current circumstance, the gentleman who had rescued you amidst the frigid fog removed his hand from you and waited for you to calm down.
“Miss, please, you’ll open your wound if you keep tussling like that.”
That was all it took for you to stop.
Right. Now that he mentioned that, bits of memories came back to you.
You just wanted to take a stroll, but the Wild Hunt appeared and attacked you. You thought you were gone for good, and shortly after, you lost consciousness.
With a different perspective on the circumstances, you glanced once again at the man sitting on a chair next to the bed. Your heartbeat had returned to normal, and your fingers weren’t trembling anymore. Instead, you now recognized the distinctive uniforms ratniks used.
“I’m—I’m sorry for making a scene. I didn’t recognize you or this place,” a subtle ticklish feeling arises in your ears, embarrassed by how you reacted. “Thank you…for helping me.”
“This is simply part of my duty as a Lightkeeper,” seeing as you weren’t in a mood to fight anymore, he leaned closer. “I’ll continue to clean this wound here. Is that okay? I’ve got to ask, lest you start a wrestling match against an invisible force again.”
He said that last sentence with a playing cadence. Perhaps to soothe your anxiety with a banter like that of a friend, or to veil the frustration of having to deal with the quite tricky patient you turned out to be.
“Ah, yes, you can continue.” you laughed nervously.
After a few minutes of monitoring this ratnik tending to your gash, the more at ease you were. Despite being a stranger, you felt secure with how he treated you, his poise, and his manners. It was a rather unusual notion to be soothed by someone whose identity you didn’t know yet.
“What’s your name?” you blurted out after contemplation.
“For simplicity’s sake, you can call me Flins.”
“Flins,” you repeated, delighted to know the name of your rescuer. It matched him. Like the source of a flame ablaze in the middle of a dense mist, or—in a less poetic manner—like the flint burning inside the lantern attached to his polearm. Wait, could flint stones cause flames of that color? “I feel indebted to you. Tomorrow, let’s go eat something tasty!”
You expected him to smile or show a hint of gladness in his eyes; instead, his lips didn’t curve upwards a single inch. However, he didn’t furrow his eyebrows, so your comment didn’t displease him either. You weren’t sure what went through his mind.
“Tomorrow…Hm. I’m vexed to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m afraid heading back to the city tomorrow is too soon for you. You’re at risk of it opening if you travel that far.”
So that was the root of that odd silence.
“Right. It’s okay, I can wait. Of course, it is in my best interest not to hurt myself again, ha... Then, when I’m all healed up to leave, let’s go eat somewhere nice.”
Although a bit delayed, this time, a smile appeared.
“Of course.”
In the meantime, you had to be content with what he brought you to eat.
For a thunderstorm that made the worn-down walls inside the lighthouse frigid, a soup was fitting for the occasion. It wafted off the soft aroma of firewood and broth into your nostrils when Flins handed you the bowl.
“Did you already eat?” you asked before Flins retreated from the room. You wanted to ask him to eat here with you, to keep you company. The room, sparsely decorated and furnished with the basics, wasn’t the idea of coziness, to be precise.
“I did.”
You were a bit dejected, looking forward to more of his company, but you didn’t want to be a burden, so you brushed it off.
You hadn’t realized until now that you were starving and downed up the soup.
Once you were done with it, you left it on the small nightstand on your side. You didn’t want to bother him further; he had been beyond helpful so far. It’s a matter of time before he comes back to retrieve the bowl. Besides, you doubt he’d be able to hear you if you shouted in the middle of this downpour. Lightning and thunder illuminated the sky.
With some effort, you sat up straighter again to look at the state of your injury. Fighting back against the discomfort, you managed to prop yourself up enough to gain an eyeful of it.
The swelling was fresh, the clean sutures held the raised skin together. You couldn’t remember what happened then, but whoever landed an attack on you didn’t hold back. When you breathed, you could feel the pull the sutures evoked.
You thanked Flins in your mind for being sensible and not allowing you to leave in this state. It was the perfect recipe for disaster.
The sound of Flins turning the doorknob and entering made you redirect your attention to him.
“I hope the soup was to your liking. Given how isolated this island is from main supply routes, sustenance’s variety is rather limited,” Flins grabbed the bowl.
“No complaints, at all. I’ll sleep like a baby.”
Flins offered a succinct chuckle.
“That puts my mind at ease,” as Flins was about to leave, he looked at you over his shoulder. “If you need anything else, I’ll be by the room next to yours.”
With that, you were again alone in this dim room, the air tinged with sea salt. For a moment, you considered turning the candle on the nightstand off and heading off to sleep.
For some reason, the room you stayed in intrigued you.
If you closed your eyes and remained in silence, you could hear the faint sound of waves crashing into the rocks.
You’ve heard some ratniks spent their whole life in a place like this, which you couldn’t wrap your mind around. Living in a place like this, despite being surrounded by the sea and being close to a beach, seemed rather solitary. Nod-Krai’s climate didn’t provide much of a warm, vacation-like spot in this location.
The worn-out wooden floor creaked when you placed a foot on it.
You used the wall for support, heading in the direction of the shelves. It took you time to reach there, considering the wound on your abdomen, but you handled it well. You didn’t rush towards it, you took deliberate, gentle steps.
You wanted to find something boring on this shelf to read and see if that aided you in falling asleep faster.
That’s when you wondered: was this his room?
You shook your head at the thought. Why would he allow a stranger to sleep in his personal space? This had to be the guest room, or something like that.
If you tried to reach the books placed on the sections that surpassed your height, an immediate pain would immobilize you. Thus, you stuck with the ones at your eye level.
You skimmed through the book spines, searching for the one whose title sounded the most boring.
NodKrai Coastal Lighthouse Regulations and Emergency Protocols, Shipping Routes and Beacon Signals: A Reference Compendium, Standard Maintenance Procedures for Coastal Lighthouses (4th Edition), Essential First Aid for Coastal Work Accidents…
Well, finding a book that sounded uninteresting proved to be an effortless task here.
Your hand hovered over the first one you saw, but you couldn’t look away from that last title. It was an odd one, wasn’t it?
After one more speck of hesitation, you stayed truthful to your main justification for nosing around the bookshelf and ended up pulling the one about coastal regulations. Besides, you didn’t want to get in trouble.
You made it back to bed, book in hand, and opened it up on a random page. The more sentences you read upon walls and walls of text, the drowsier you became. Before long, your sight grew blurry, unable to make heads or tails of what you read, and you fell asleep with the book sprawled across your lap.
First thing in the morning, the dull pain from your injury greeted you before the sunlight did. The window lacked any curtains, and the first rays of sunrise were enough to pull you out of your rest. You groaned, trying to turn around to sleep facing the opposite side, but the ache in your abdomen impeded it.
Seeing as it was useless trying to go back to sleep with the sun blazing across the sky, you got out of bed and headed outside in search of Flins.
“Flins?” you asked, and raised your fist to knock on the door, but when you saw it was ajar, you gave it a light push.
This room sure was messier than the one you were using.
It was crammed with shelves and file cabinets, folders and papers tossed on a large desk that barely fit between said shelves. Amid this chaos, the sole thing with a sense of order was a twin-sized bed cornered in the back, the sheet and pillow in their place.
You were about to step back out when Flin’s unexpected appearance behind you made you flinch.
“My apologies. I was about to greet you, but it seems you beat me to it,” Flins said with a polite smile, but the amused hint in his voice revealed more than that. “Good morning, by the way...”
Despite the underlying tone of amusement laced in his voice, his presence and overall demeanor were benign, treating you with the same hospitality he did last night.
You couldn’t pinpoint what’s with this knot in your stomach, however.
“This room was meant to be used as a guest room,” he continued, “but since visitors hardly stayed long enough to need it, I ended up repurposing it into a storage room.”
You realized you might’ve given off a judgmental gaze at him without realizing it.
“Ah, no. I was just—”
“No need to apologize. I discerned your curiosity and sated it, that’s it,” He waved it off. “I presume you were looking for me because you are hungry.”
This man was adept at reading people. It was scary.
With little else to add, you wanted to follow Flins to the kitchen. He insisted you stay in bed to rest, but you were tired of being cooped in there and convinced him to let you accompany him.
You took the handrail leading down the spiral staircase, but Flins offered his arm instead.
“Allow me to help you.”
His firm arm now provided you with support while you descended the stairs.
In view of the proximity, you noted the lack of warmth he exuded, even if he wore layers. Not like you were expecting him to be something akin to a human furnace, though the realization made it difficult to ignore.
Once in the kitchen, it resembled the overall aesthetic of the lighthouse’s interior: a reduced space, its walls with traces of saline humidity, and the basic amenities that should be in a kitchen. The lighthouse, it’s built with utility in mind. Nothing else.
You sit on a chair as you chat with him, knowing him better. Until your recovery, this was the singular person you would interact with.
“Are you the only lightkeeper here? Or do you rotate your stay with other coworkers?”
Yet again, another detail you couldn’t ignore. Being stuck in a small piece of land like this, in the middle of a cemetery and all alone, sure sounds depressing.
“It’s just me,” Flins said as he lit the stove.
“That sounds hard. How do you deal with loneliness?”
“I have visitors, on occassions. Aside from that, my light-keeping duties keep me occupied as it is. Oh, and the ghosts that roam the island are quite entertaining individuals.”
He was messing with you, right…
Now that the conversation has ended up on a bit tense note, it wasn’t the first time something in your guts bothered you. Aside from the wound, that is. There was a chance you didn’t notice them yesterday given the novelty of your situation, but now you are in better condition than last night.
The longer you surveyed him while he was busy, the more that turmoil grew.
“Here.” Flins placed a warm grain porridge on the table. You expected him to have breakfast too, but he didn’t.
“Are you not having breakfast?”
“I ate a few hours ago.”
He was about to leave, but, unlike yesterday, you did speak your thoughts.
“Could you keep me company? I don’t like to eat alone…”
Flins walked back again to the table.
“Why’s that? Are you afraid any of the ghosts will bother you?” he pulled the chair out and sat. “They won’t harm you. If anything, they’ll scurry away before you get close.”
Again, with the ghost thing. You suspected he wasn’t joking anymore. This lighthouse was in a cemetery, after all.
“I’m not scared of them.”
However, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that he wasn’t human. That scared you.
“It’s the first time I’ve ever spoken to a lightkeeper. Excuse my curiosity, but what does a day look like for you?”
“Most of it is spent monitoring the coast and the sea in search of any abyss or Wild Hunt creature that’s roaming. Few routes navigate around here, but part of my duty is still to be on the lookout for any shipwreck that may arise. I also fuel lamps, wind the clockwork, and maintain the tower,” His voice was steady and candid, not an ounce of irritation in it.
“And…the ghosts?”
“You wonder if they’re frightening? Not at all. Most of them were former ratniks like me. Some of them I knew before they fell in battle. Some are unruly, but they’re harmless, nonetheless.”
The conversation proved useful to get more familiar with him and soothed you of your turmoil for the time being.
You followed Flins around, at least as far as your injury allowed you to. True to his words, Flin’s schedule followed what he described. For the following week, you even got to see him in action dissipating the hordes of abyssal monsters and aiding those sailors that were lost.
That’s how life with Flins went.
The situation made it easy for you to grow fond of him, as he was the single face you’d seen on a day to day basis. The first one to greet and the last one to say goodnight to. You grew used to his schedule, to his routine, and it being vice versa was true. It has been a mere week, and that sense of familiarity was ingrained already.
You had a life to go back to. People who waited for you to come back. You had sent a letter to your closest ones, reassuring them that you were in good care and you would get back as soon as possible, but that wasn’t enough. Walking short distances and making it down the stairs wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was time for you to part.
You left the change of clothes Flins lent you on the bed. You now wore the clothes he had found you in first. Flins was always doing something; it was a mystery for you to figure out when he took the time to wash it. Unless he slept less than the recommended amount, that was.
You found Flins occupied in the maintenance room, fixing an auxiliary lamp.
“I’m leaving.”
Flins tightening the bolt was your immediate answer.
“—You may not.”
You paused your steps in front of the door.
He didn’t even bother looking at you when he answered—didn’t bother to drop the wrench he was using.
“…Why?”
“Seven days is not enough for an abdominal laceration to withstand a trek to Nasha Town,” at last, he raised his head to look at you. It was his turn to halt his movements, redirecting his concern to you. “The discomfort of walking over small periods of time might have calmed down, but you need more rest.”
You’re not surprised this was his reaction. He was the best host you’ve ever met, and he took seriously his determination to nurse you back to health.
“I really need to go back, though. If only my family weren’t worried about me, I would take it easy, but knowing they’ve been restless these past days, I need to return.”
Flins left the wrench on the floor and abandoned his crouched position to stand up and walk close to you. You craned your head up to meet his gaze, devoid of urgency.
He wasn’t looking at you, though. Instead, he centered on the glove he was removing from his right hand. The glove was slick with oil, from fixing the lantern. You’d never seen him without them until now.
“I promise I’ll be fine. Besides, I promised to treat you to a nice meal—ow!”
You winced, that sharp and unpleasant pain from your wound throbbed when Flins poked it. With calculated force, he had tapped it. Not jab, not thrust. A tap. It was gentle, but firm enough for you to feel it.
“On the outside, the skin has started to close. Everything else beneath is still swollen and sensitive. You won’t make it outside of this isle without the pain debilitating you.”
For a second there, you felt you needed to insist, but the wavering pain from Flin’s poke made you reconsider it. So far, you had walked short distances, but you hadn’t tried a longer one.
“I’d suggest you wait, at the very least, another week. Even then, you would need to take breaks in between.”
Somehow, the wait for another week to pass was long for you. Even though your host provided you with everything you needed, that didn’t deter boredom from reaching you. On certain days, you would keep company, spending hours chatting with him while guarding the coast from the top of the lighthouse, or be content with watching him repair the complicated mechanisms integrated into the tower.
Against all odds, your additional source of “entertainment” was him.
You didn’t want to muse too much about whether he was a human or not, and you didn’t dare ask him. That would be rude, wouldn’t it? No, don’t think about that.
Thus, you pushed those inferences to the deepest nooks of your mind and tried to find a pastime with what you had available.
You stared at the bookshelf.
It’s not much.
Fingertips grazed along the book’s spines, searching for a title that would pique your interest, if any.
Civilian Observation Records.
Right. The first time you found yourself in this exact position, you avoided that one. You also remembered that day you found the book you took the night prior back in its place. When you woke up, you had left it on the bed. That meant Flins picked it up and returned it to the bookshelf.
He knew you were snooping around his books. Yet, he didn’t reprimand you for it. Maybe he didn’t mind?
Because technical manuals filled the rest of the shelf. You were bored out of your mind, Flins was asleep, and you, on the other hand, couldn’t—you reasoned that it wouldn’t hurt to peek.
Log #345
Weather: Overcast, light snow
Visibility: Moderate
Civilian Presence: Two individuals
Subjects crossed the shoreline path heading west. No deviation from established routes was observed. No signs of distress.
Operational impact: None
Action taken: None
Log #357
Weather: Windy
Visibility: Reduced after dusk
Civilian presence: Three individuals
Unfamiliar with terrain. Adjusted course after environmental exposure increased.
Operational Impact: None
Action taken: Provided directions. No further contact.
Well, you hoped you’d find something interesting here, but so far, everything was innocuous. You felt a bit silly. What were you expecting to read here?
Log #483
Weather: Calm
Visibility: High
Civilian presence: One individual
Subject remained within the perimeter longer than average. Behavior is consistent with previous observation. No approach deemed necessary.
Operational impact: None
Action taken: Continued observation
You pushed the book back into its place. It was as boring as the others.
The good news was that you were drowsy enough to go back to sleep. First, though, you needed a quick trip to the bathroom.
It has been two weeks since Flins has taken the responsibility of aiding your recovery, and you were still to getting used to how hollow the hallway was at night. During the day, it wasn’t as long and desolate as it is at these hours. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it was the mind’s ploy at work, the human brain masters the art of filling in the blanks with information that clouds the rationale. While you walked to the bathroom, you hugged yourself, seeking a sliver of warmth amidst the low temperature.
Your breath hitched when a metallic sound reverberated from a room down the hallway. A hard lump you swallowed, both intrigued to investigate and ready to run back to the room at the slightest out-of-place occurrence.
When you peeked through the ajar door, you discovered it was Flins. His back to the door. Wasn’t he supposed to be asleep?
You strained your sight more, fighting to discern the figure shrouded in the dimly lit room. Unable to distinguish the details of what was on the table, you squinted more. A sudden purplish light emerged from the front, which you couldn’t tell its source, given Flins blocked out the view without knowing.
That should’ve been your cue to leave. To turn back and move on.
Stretching your neck a little, you unearthed the reason Flins didn’t share a meal with you. He never sat down to eat with you during the morning, the afternoon, or the night.
The bluish purple light emerged from the lamp Flins never failed to carry around with him. It formed a consistent path of light from its core to the plate on the table. What was on the plate, you didn’t bother with the details, too entranced with what he was doing instead.
This answered your questions about whether he was a human being or not.
You should feel unnerved at such a bizarre display. What kind of creature consumed sustenance in this manner? Notwithstanding the unsettling exhibition, you couldn’t find it in yourself to disregard his kindheartedness and the time he has invested in helping you solely because of this. However, your stomach formed a pit at this discovery. It was a rather conflictive clash of emotions.
For the remaining two days before you could make a safer trip, cohabitating with Flins took on a more bittersweet feeling for you. You did treat him as you had been doing before you saw him do that the previous night, still chatted…but looking him straight in the eyes became strenuous. Once again, you’d grown vigilant whenever in his presence and realized the reason for some of his habits. Why he didn’t eat with you, didn’t ask you for help even if the task was minimal, why he waited for you to step aside before entering a room… Those were things aligned with what you’ve heard and read about fae.
The day of your departure arrived at last.
“I see you’re ready to leave.”
Flins offered one of his usual tranquil smiles. When he found you tying your shoelaces, supporting your foot on a stool because your injury wouldn’t allow you to kneel yet, he wasn’t shaken or surprised.
“I can’t stay here any longer. I don’t think it’s fair. I’ve taken too much of your time and…resources,” you switched onto your other foot. Even though the stool was a great help, a slight discomfort was present.
“That was never a problem for me.”
There it was again. You were thankful for his unending kindness.
That’s why you couldn’t take advantage of it—of him.
“I’d feel more at ease if you could, perchance, wait another week? That way…”
“I can’t.” You knew where it was going. Done tying your shoelaces, you straightened your posture to face him. “Flins, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. I promised I would treat you to something nice. Wait for me, please. I promise I’ll be back.”
He was silent for a heartbeat longer than you expected, and that catapulted yours into a frenzy.
“I understand. Then I’ll be anticipating your return soon.”
You weren’t lying when you said you would come back, but it wasn’t in your plans for it to be soon. Regardless, you didn’t bother making that correction and said your farewell to him.
As you walked away, the lighthouse cast a shadow that fell over the path you followed. Its towering presence sent a swarm of memories, even if you weren’t looking at it. The sea salt, which had been present in the air since the first day, diminished the further you made it until its existence turned into mere recollection.
You made it back home. Your reunion with family and friends is buoyant, cheering your return, safe and sound. Routines, schedules, everything that represented your life fell back into place.
It was miserable how unfulfilled you felt, however.
Two weeks have passed since you returned, but you itched to go back to that island. To the lighthouse. To Flins. You couldn’t shake him off your mind, no matter how you fought to do it.
You missed him.
Three simple words that burdened your heart with an indescribable weight.
It didn’t take long for you to retrace your path back to Flins.
He was outside, performing his daily sweep of petals, twigs, and blades of grass that found their way to the tombstones.
“Where are you taking me to eat?”
Flins’s back was towards you, yet you could hear the upward tilt of his smile seeping through his voice.
“You did something to me, didn’t you?”
“Perchance, you mean acting as a medical staff and healing your wounds?”
“Way beyond that,” with decided endeavor, you stepped closer to him. You didn’t shy away from his gaze this time, you faced him straight on. The one that made you alert the first time you saw them now unleashed butterflies in your stomach. “You’re a fae. You enchanted me, and now I can’t shake you off my head.”
With this, Flins stopped what he was doing and came closer to you, standing right before you. His gloved hand found your cheek, his thumb on your cheekbone, as he tilted your face upwards.
“Does this frighten you?”
Did he mean how close he was, how he held your face like a lover would, the catastrophe he sat loose, or what he did to you if your suspicions were correct?
You shook your head no and leaned into his touch.
When the flutter in your insides turned from a pit to a warm sensation that spread through your heart, you didn’t know. It didn’t matter anymore, following Flin’s steps to the privacy of his bedroom, where he held your face with those gloved hands and kissed you until breathless. You were yet to discover if his body exuded any warmth at all, but did those lips and tongue of his set yours ablaze. His lips subdued yours lovingly, hands not abandoning your cheeks and seeking more of you. He would scarf everything down until there was nothing left for anybody else.
Unfamiliar with having someone caress you this way, you did what you thought was natural to do in this situation by roaming your hands across his back, albeit the rest of your body was stiff. Not from rejection, but hesitation in your own actions. Was it alright if you touched his hair? What if he didn’t like it? Would it be too soon if you wrapped your legs around his hips?
His wet tongue abandoned yours, sensing the tension present in your actions. Not with the intention of impelling you or to complain. Flins was being attentive.
“It’s the first time I’m doing this,” you beat him to it. You saw the question regarding the tautness of your body coming.
A hand abandoned its place on your cheek and sought yours instead, gripping it with tenderness.
“To entrust me with something this vulnerable…I’m most honored.” His lips fluttered over your knuckles.
After he shrugged off the outer, heavy layers of his upper clothes and went back to his position on top of you to undo your pants. Once he slipped the article off, he slid a hand beneath your underwear, fingers nudging your hole. Until today, you were familiar with using your hand for this, and now that you felt what it was like to be stretched by something bigger, his touch ignited feelings, unlike another.
“Does this feel right to you, or am I going too fast?”
Too slow, if anything.
You trapped his wrist before he pulled away.
“More.”
Both endeared and amused by your demand, and with a chuckle, Flins heeded your words.
“Flins,” you moaned and spread your arms open, signaling for him to embrace you. “You’re far.”
Whether you were confusing your own body’s temperature or you had unveiled Flin’s warmth when he leaned down to wrap an arm around you, you took delight in it, regardless. His chest snug against yours, and you longed to remove more of your clothing, but the intensity of his measured movements into your insides and thumb stroking your clit made you forget about it fast.
In no time, Flins had you thrashing from pleasure on his bed as he worked your pussy open, making the insides of your thighs sticky from how much arousal dripped. You held him tight, your breath quick against his shoulder.
“Look at me, my dear. No need to be so bashful,” Flins’s thumb grazed your chin, prompting you to look up. Those pale-yellow irises that startled you at first didn’t feel as empty as they did back then; they brimmed with adoration instead. You lacked the clarity to take in every detail of Flin’s expression when your eyes met, since small droplets of tears clouded part of your sight. At that, he kissed them away. “There we go. To ensure that this is as enjoyable for you as it is for me, I need to see you.”
The more he rubbed your clit, even if it wasn’t hasty, the more you melted into him. With measured movements, it was enough for you to feel closer to finishing.
With a moan, you came undone. Your heat squeezed him, along with your hips seeking more of him when you did. Flins kissed you, muffling your sounds, far from stalling so you could ride your orgasm to completion.
By the time Flins pulled away to let you breathe, your surroundings seemed to spin from the intensity of your release. It took you a moment to regain your bearings, that desire not yet quenched. Desire to which you answered by hugging Flin’s hips with your legs, spurring him into giving you more.
You could tell Flins found your disposition endearing, abiding by your demand.
Once he unzipped his trousers...it was rude to stare, and you really didn’t want to, but you couldn’t help sneaking some glances at his cock. You lacked the experience to compare him with others, but you didn’t need to be an expert to know he was above average, in girth too. However, you weren’t afraid to take him in, given he had prepared you for it.
…Well, maybe you were a little nervous. When the warmth nudged your entrance, the contrast in size became more evident for you.
“No need to fret, love,” Flins intertwined your hand with his, providing a sense of security with how it enclosed yours. “If you sense the need to stop, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Although your heart thumped fast, you didn’t want to stop.
He eased the tip in, a slick sound following it when he did. You could feel the way your walls opened to adjust to his size, and when he pressed forward to fill your pussy with more of him, it became even more apparent. The pressure was far from painful, which allowed him to thrust another couple of inches without causing you discomfort. When more than half was in, though, you did feel a bit of tension on your part. You didn’t back away, though. Not even when Flins halted for a second, your immediate response was to tighten your legs around him.
His pelvis met yours, and the overwhelming fullness let you know that the entirety of him was inside. Flins massaged your hip, coaxing your body into relaxing. With the other, he brought your still interlaced hand to brush a kiss on your knuckles; thrusts rhythmic and controlled. Every now and then, you would catch a soft, pleasured sigh from him, and it affected you. Maybe a little too much.
Something beyond the visages you’ve seen on him prior to this day, you unraveled a new type of gleam in his eyes—desire. They were half-lidded, an obvious craving. Thinly veiled in how he absorbed the sight in front of him.
“I see you’ve adjusted.” It tickled you when he skimmed his kisses from your hand to your wrist. “Shall I take that as permission to move a little faster?”
“Yes—”
At your approval, Flins brought you closer by the hips, angling them in a position where they weren’t touching the bed anymore. You arched your back to accommodate the position. The change made it impossible to ignore how deeper his cock went, the sheer size jabbing at a spot inside that drove you closer to the edge. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to go, the vehemence with which he thrust to the point the bed creaked. Despite it being faster, the pace wasn’t sloppy, as Flins controlled his pace.
You tried to vocalize your impending orgasm. That was your intention, but the constant waves of pleasure impeded you from it. In no time, a strong shudder took hold of your senses when you came, squeezing Flins’s dick. At the realization of his own approaching orgasm too, he captured your mouth with a kiss. His tongue slid against yours mid-thrust, and soon after, he spilled inside. He lingered there as it ended, ropes after ropes of cum brimming your hole.
Thoughts muddled and drowsy, you couldn’t quite catch what Flins whispered against your skin. He didn’t pull away; instead, preferred to hold you for a while longer. Living in an isolated place like this made it easy to forget someone’s warmth. Warmth, which was incomparable because it came from you.
You drifted off to sleep, lulled into rest thanks to Flins brushing your disheveled locks of hair away from your face.
my favorite works of my own BUT ALSO my fav fics by other creators RAGJSGSHS the ones that had me (s)creaming, sobbing, kicking my feet and giggling, ripping my heart out, etc etc. minors and ageless blogs dni!
FAV FICS I'VE WRITTEN
Frustrated After a Long Day - BEGGING GROWN, JACKED IZUKU TO USE YOU (nsfw obvs) it's my most popular fic for a reason.... 😋😋
To aid the princess - Princess x knight trope WITH GOJO but with a twist and the twist is he's eating you out. (nsfw)
Itto W/a chubby S/O - I struggled with my weight growing up and now I have a healthy view of myself and think bigger body types are hot in general BUT IT WAS A JOURNEY so I'm really glad this fic made some people feel seen.
oral fixation - uhh nsfw? ish? no comment. ts hot.
𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
FAV FICS FROM OTHERS
( consider taking a peak at these other creators :))
'The Galaxy is Endless' - (sfw) OH MY GOD THE MOST GUT WRENCHING KUROKEN ANGST YOU WILL EVER EVER READ I CANNOT. PLS READ IT W THE PLAYLIST. They did make it to where you have to be an AO3 member to read :( But it's so worth it.)
Take A Bite(nsfw) - short and sweet. something about religious trauma and a literal god complex with Venti.
Initiation(dark) - (nsfw) w bakusquad. I have the attention span of a goldfish.. this is the longest oenshot I think I have ever read and it doesn't stop getting better? Also it’s evil? The ending is cunt. The writing is sososo good.
Something Reckless (nsfw) - RAFHFHUSHJK Brothers best friend au with Tohma guys guys guys guys guys js go read it yourself.
Giving minimum wage clerk Laios sloppy - umm nsfw (self explanatory I fear?) idk I REALLY like that autistic blonde man and I want to give him head in an alley soooo this is in the top ten for me. The writing is good. captures the essence of minimum wage. The pic of Laios w the hat is my fav part.
The Sawdust Men: Destiel Angst w a happy ending (allegedly). Im only half way into this one and it's so good and it hurts ughhh I love it.
A Little R & R - (nsfw) creepypasta fic the proxies fingering you after a long day at work hits. I love this. All of this creator's work is delicious.
that's it! If you have any recommendations let me knowwww. I'm always looking for sappy slow burns to build my attention span :>
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My own little collection of fics centered around mental illness and insecurities. It's no substitute for therapy, but this sort of stuff helped me when I was going through it so I hope these bring some comfort xx
Waves - reader with sensory overload
Itto w/a chubby s/o - pure fluff!
The days are long - comfort w/ your fav after a long, evil day.