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redhead1180 · 1 year ago

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My So-Called Punishment

About - JJ x fem!reader

Summary - You have been in a mood all day and JJ decides to take matters in his own hands.

Warnings - MDNI, smut, hair pulling, rough housing (?), cursing, fighting, p in v, oral (f rec), let me know if missed anything

A/N - I was having a bad day and decided, I thought a little pure JJ smut would put a smile on my face. Between multiple moots talking about his biceps and the above gif, I had my inspiration. I wanted out faster, but I needed a nap when I got stuck. Then I needed a few cigarettes to get thru the smut. 🙄 Don't judge me.

Credit to original owners of gifs and @saradika-graphics for dividers. 😊

I had been in a shit mood all day. I really didn't know why, yea work was awful, but what else was new. The shit mood started when I woke up. Even JJ's sexy morning voice couldn't make me smile. When I got back to John B's after work, I had at snapped John B, JJ, and even poor Pope, every time they talked to me.

I had gotten a few side eyes from JJ and knew I was pushing my luck with him. The last snarky comment from me to JJ had earned a jaw snap and 'the look' saying I was about to piss him off.

JJ, John B, Pope, and I were watching a movie later in the evening and I got up to get me a beer. JJ asks nicely, I will give him that, to grab him one and I for no reason snap at him "Are you're legs fucking broken?". That was it, he stands up and comes over grabs my hand to drag me to the spare room.

"Somebody's in trouble" John B sings as JJ pulls me through the kitchen to his room.

"Don't be too rough, bro" Pope yells as JJ pushes me in the room.

"Listen, babe, I don't know what the fuck you're problem is today, but I have had it!" He growls at me as he throws me on the bed, slamming the door behind him. I land on my back and my head snaps back up, but I don't waste any time, I turn over and start scrambling to get up and off the bed. I was in for it, I knew it, but I wasn't going down just yet. Maybe this was what I wanted all day, to let off some sexual steam, cause I could feel the heat growing in my core. But I didn't want JJ to know that.

"Oh no, you ain't going anywhere" he snaps as he grabs my ankles, making me slam onto my stomach and starts pulling me back to the edge of the bed. I am trying to grab anything along the way, sheets, pillows, to get leverage to pull myself away. It wasn't doing any good cause they just came with me.

"JJ I ain't in the mood for this" I grunt as I try to kick and thrash at him. He could easily overpower me, we both knew it, but what was the fun in that. He knew I enjoyed trying to assert my dominance, as much as he enjoyed dominating me.

He slaps me hard on my bare thigh and hisses at me "That's for kicking at me". I buried my face as I let out a small moan, hoping he didn't hear it or see the way it soaked my panties. I still wasn't ready to give in, but the fire in my veins was raging. Before I could move, he reaches over me and grabs my shorts and panties, and yanks them both down my legs and tosses them.

"JJ, I swear to God - " I yelp mid sentence as JJ smacks my ass hard, leaving a red hand print. Then leans over me rubbing my cheek to help with the sting.

"You swear what, hmm love?" he teases me in my ear. He stands back up and sits down, hands wrapped around my ankles, attempting to pull my legs over his lap. I am still squirming and thrashing around.

"Stop squirming and being a brat, dammit!" he growls at me smacking my ass again. "You're only making this harder on yourself" I involuntarily let out a moan and feel my hole clench around nothing. I had slowed down enough, his hand wraps around the back of my neck and his other arm wraps around my thighs like a vice grip. I am literally bent over his lap and can't do anything, but squirm a bit. I was getting winded and the fight was getting knocked out of me. He adjusted his arm, effectively pushing my red tinged butt into in the air.

"Is this what you wanted, did you just need a spanking from daddy?" he questions, "Cause from the way you soaked your panties and are dripping down your leg, that's the outcome you wanted." He lets up on his vice grip and I feel him slide his hand between my thighs and pull causing me to gasp as cool air hits my wet hole. I feel his fingers start to run through my folds. I swallow a moan as the fire in my veins starts raging.

"I think 20 slaps are deserved for your brattiness today." he sternly says, "what do you think, princess, hmm?" He continues to rub my wetness around my folds never quite hitting my clit. I stay silent, using the silent treatment against him. I want to growl and moan at the same time. Against my will, I start to move against his fingers, trying for more. He slaps my pussy, making me cry out.

"I asked you a question" he growls. "I can keep this up all day, love."

"Yes!" I huff out.

He smacks my pussy again, drops of my arousal flying through the air.

"Yes what?"

"Yes daddy!" I huff out

"Count for me and don't mess up or we start back at one." He murmurs.

He smacks my cheek hard, I bite my lip and grunt "One." He smacks my other cheek, I feel the back of my eyes start to burn, "Two." He smacks the first cheek again, I let out a small whimper, "Three". He continues to smack my ass, switching cheeks after each one. When done, I am in tears, sniffling, biting and gripping the sheets for dear life.

He gets up and rolls me gently over, laying between my legs, then reaches up and wipes the tears away with his thumbs. "Are we gonna give daddy anymore problems today" he gently asks, as he looks into my eyes, nuzzling his nose against mine.

"No." I whimper out looking back at him, with big doe eyes, tears still in the corners.

"Aww baby I tried to give you warnings, but you wouldn't listen." He mewls as he starts to kiss my tear soaked cheeks. One hand reaching down to rub my hip and thigh lovingly.

"I know," I sputter "I just been in a shit mood all day and I don't know why. Then work was horrible, dealing with kooks harassing me the whole time. I just couldn't help it. "

He brushes some hair off my forehead, chewing on his lip, as if having an internal debate.

"Well I shouldn't ask this, since you were just punished, but you want daddy to make you feel better?" he asks with a little grin.

"Mhmm, please"

He smirks and leans down, kissing me gently, his hand moving from my hip to snake up my stomach, leaving goosebumps in it's wake, and pinch my already hardened nipple. He breaks the kiss for a second to pull my shirt over my head and immediately reattaches his lips to mine forcing his tongue into my mouth. His hand reaches behind my head to grip my hair causing my to tilt up, giving him more access. What was a gentle kiss had turned into a hungry, tongue dominating, teeth clashing kiss that was making my toes curl and forget all about my stinging ass. I let out a whine as I kiss him back just as hungrily.

I desperately start to pull at his shirt, wanting it off, letting out whines and whimpers as he continues his assault on my lips. Desperately needing air, I pull back from the kiss and he starts to place open mouthed kisses down my jaw and neck.

"You have too many clothes on, daddy" I moan out. I hear him chuckle as uses the hand that was on my boob, reaches behind his head, grabs his shirt and pulls it off. His hand going back to its previous spot. I groan loving the feel of his back muscles beneath my hands. His mouth finds a new home on my other tit, sucking and nibbling, until I was pushing my hips up to meet him.

"Is my baby girl a little needy?" he teases as he kisses down my stomach.

"Yes, need more"

"Daddy's got you, I am gonna make you forget all about your shitty mood..." he kissed a trail from hip to hip and then settles on his stomach between my thighs. He uses his fingers to spread me open, blowing gently on my hole, sending a wave of electricity through my system.

"Please daddy!" you gasp grabbing his hair, trying to pull him toward you.

JJ places an open mouthed kiss on you and begins running his tongue through your folds. "God baby you have the sweetest pussy on the whole damn island." he rasps as he starts sucking your pearl. You know you aren't going to last long, the fire running through you going straight to your core. Without letting up his assault on your clit, he slips a finger in and immediately curves it to that sweet spot that will leave you in tremors.

"Fuck!" you gasp out, throwing your head back deeper into the bed, grabbing his hair and holding him to you. He adds another finger and speeds up pumping his fingers in and out of you, your arousal juices running down his fingers and hand, being slung all over your thighs. That familiar pain settles in your core telling you that you were on the edge.

"I'm cum-" you start to gasp, but it turns into a scream as you topple over the edge. JJ removes his fingers and moves mouth to slurp the juices spilling out of you.

JJ sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of hand, "We're not done yet princess" he drawls as he grabs my hips and flips me on my stomach. He rubs my red ass and then puts in the prone position, laying down on top and wrapping his arm around me neck.

Without any warning, he thrusts into me all the way, letting out a groan and starts pounding into me. I grab his biceps and bite him to muffle my scream, the burn from him stretching me almost too much. JJ hisses "Easy baby".

The pain doesn't last long and I become a moaning mess, letting out "uh-uhs" every time he slams into me. JJ's essence is all around me. I can smell salt water, weed and mint. I feel the warmth of his body all over me as he lays on top of me, his sweat mixing with mine as our bodies rub together. The strength of his arm around my neck, so strong, yet so gentle and never hurts me. His other hand on my hip, gripping me to the position he wants. I consume it all into my senses, like a hungry wolf.

"Fuck baby you taking me so good, so fucking tight" JJ moans in my ear. As he speeds up, arm squeezing tighter around my neck, I can hear little grunts and whines coming from him. "Jesus fuck, princess, I love you" he babbles in my ear.

"I love you too, daddy" I grunt out.

JJ pulls my butt up and hits my G-spot, making me cry out. I use one hand to grab the headboard and the other hangs on to his bicep for dear life. My vision starts to go blurry as I see stars every time he hits that spot. I can feel my orgasm building as he slams into me.

"Daddy I am close" I moan out.

"Cmon baby, let go for me" JJ whispers as his hand moves from hip to my clit. He starts vigorously rubbing figure eights on it, helping me reach my high. I feel his thrusts start to stutter, can tell he is getting close too.

"Be a good girl for daddy and cum all over my cock" he rasps out placing his forehead between my shoulder blades.

The praise was all it took for my orgasm to hit like freight train and cause me to clench around JJ, screaming to God and Jesus as the pleasure rushed over me in waves. There is a ringing in my ear, I see stars, and I feel the gush of liquid rush out of me all over my thighs.

"O fuck babe, gonna -shit- rip my -o fuck- dick off" JJ stutters out. He lets out a loud groan as thrusts in me and stills. I let go of the headboard and reach behind me to grab his head holding it close to me.

JJ continues to slowly thrust in me, riding out highs out, then collapses on top of me. My legs are shaking and I am gasping for breath. He takes a minute, catching his breath, then starts leaving kisses along my shoulder blades. He slowly slides out of me and attempts to get up, I let out a whimper and hold tight to his arm.

"I'm not go anywhere baby" he softly chuckles. "Just moving over to the side so I don't smush you."

I weakly turn over on to my back and JJ is on his side, head on his hand, elbow bent, looking down at me. He reaches up and pulls my hair off my sweaty face. He leans down and gives me a sweet kiss.

"Feeling better princess" he smirks down at me.

I smile, a little wobbly, and whisper "Yes." I pause and and bite my finger, look up at him mischievously "I think my shit mood is gone now"

He bursts out laughing, grabbing me for a hug, "God you're gonna be the death of me."

We both hear John B from the living room yell, "Are y'all finally done fucking?"

#jj maybank smut #jj maybank #outer banks #obx #jj obx #jj maybank x reader #jj outer banks #jj mayback imagine #jj x reader #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank x you

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daves-horse · 9 months ago

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Happy To See Me

(David Von Eric)

You decide to take a shower before your husband comes home.

Warnings: Shower sex, dirty talk, cum, my size kink may be showing (slighty), shower, David's arms word count: 888

I threw dinner in the oven, wiped my hands on my apron, and made my way to the bathroom. Once I’ve stripped and started the water, I step into the shower sighing with relief, when I feel the hot water run down my back. I bathe as I usually would, taking small breaks to enjoy the water, it’s like a mini massage for me.

I feel a small breeze against my back giving me chills, followed by large arms practically swallowing me whole. I immediately turn around in fear, my hands balled in fist. “Whoa there, darlin, no need to fight, I've done enough of that today.” I let out a deep breath, when my husband’s voice fills my ears.

“Dammit, David!” I laugh. “You almost took an elbow to the nose.”

He smiles down at me “As if you could reach.”

“Real funny.” I roll my eyes, all the way down to look at his cock. I giggle to myself. “Looks like someone’s happy to see me.”

“Sure am,” He scoops me up in one arm. “I’ve had quite the day at practice.” I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. “Kev was on my ass, real bad today and,” My mind begins to wander off as he softly begins massaging circles on my clit.

“mhm.’ I nod along every couple of seconds or so, so I appear as if I’m attentive to the ‘conversation’. I gasp, feeling the sting of David pinching my clit.

“You ain’t payin’ a lick of attention to what I’m sayin’.” David chuckles.

“I totally am.”

“Is that so?” I nod, breathless. “Really?” He can’t hide his amusement. I mumble a soft uh-huh. he continues massaging my clit “‘Cause I ain’t said nothin’ but gibberish for the last minute or so.”

“I agree” I say drifting back into Lala land. David rolls his eyes, pushing two fingers into me, his thumb still rubbing me off. He presses his lips to mine briefly.

“You’re a dumb little whore, ain’t ya?” David teases

“Yeah.” I breathe, without even processing his words. He laughs at me.

“Alright now, let's get you filled up, before you get too ahead of yourself.” He pulls his fingers out of me and I whine. My complaining is cut short but the feeling of my hole being stretched. I hear David grunt into my ear. “How do ya feel, baby.”

“So full”

“Aww, baby, you’re droolin’” He pushes his tongue into my mouth. He slides me up and down his shaft, and my mind only drifts further and further. He pulls away, but a string of saliva keeps us connected. I look up at him, eyes wide, mouth open, his face is flushed, his eyes are squeezed shut, his bottom lip between his teeth. I couldn’t think of something better to look at, not that I could think at all. I close my eyes and bite down on his shoulder as a way to muffle my screams. “Uh-uh, none of that, I wanna all of Texas, to hear how good I fuck ya.” David taps the back of my head. I do as he says and allow myself to make all the sounds my throat could produce. “That’s right darlin.” His voice is so raspy, God, I could die. “Who's makin’ you feel so good?”

“You.” I Force out. My voice hoarse.

“And what’s my name, baby.” He’s practically growling in my ear.

“David.” I can hardly breathe.

“I’m sorry, But I didn’t quite hear you darlin’” He taunts.

“David.” My voice slightly louder.

“Huh?” He knows what he’s doing.

“DAVID VON ERICH!” It feels like my vocal chords are ripping apart.

He picks up his pace, which I couldn’t believe was possible. At this point his name was falling from lips like a mantra of some sort. It wasn’t long before I came all over his cock, he wasn’t too far behind, as I felt a new warmth spread throughout my abdomen.

He sat me down on the shower bench, both of us breathless. I look at him, face red, his arms swollen from lifting me so long, God, he's a gorgeous sight. The water had grown cold, and began to shiver. Taking notice, David turns the water off. I stand up holding on to the rail, my legs feel like jelly, David laughs “You’re leakin’.” he says picking me back up. I look down, to see that, I am, in fact, leaking. He sticks a finger in me “I should see how long you can hold my load in your cunt.” I cringe at his words.

“You’re so disgusti-” I’m cut off by him shoving his cum covered fingers into my mouth, and I’m comforted with familiar taste of him.

David sets me on the sink counter to dry me off and dress me, he stays in his towel. “So, what’s for dinner? It smelled real good when I came in.”

My eyes widen as I’m hit with realization “Shit!” I say louder than anticipated. He picks me back up and as he opens the bathroom door, we are immediately greeted with smoke. “How’s pizza sound?” I cough. David just laughs sitting me on a chair and heads over to the phone, turning the oven off on his way. “And open the windows while you’re at it, please.”

“On it.”

Hey, I hope you guys like my first one shot, I’m little rusty because I haven’t written in over a year, so give me some grace. Feel free to request, comment, or critique.

k thanks byeeee.

-Lavender

#david von erich x reader #david von erich #david von erich smut #iron claw x reader #iron claw #iron claw smut #harris dickinson #harris dickinson x reader

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moonywritez6 · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 9 Lactation (Reupload)

Character: Dad Mammon x Mom Reader

Reader: Fem Reader!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, small breeding kink, whiney Mammon, unprotected sex, harsh language, tit fucking, breast milk, pet names (Mamma, daddy, honey, etc.),

Wc: 3,298

A/n: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!

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"Hey, now be gentle, S/n!" You whined, feeling your son's tiny teeth starting to nibble against your sore nipple, his bright and innocent eyes looking right up at you. You smile, letting out a small coo as you playfully boop his nose. "You're so lucky you have your daddy's eyes~ I can never stay mad at you~" You gushed, a giggle escaping when S/n reached one of his grubby little hands towards your finger, carefully gripping the digit between his chubby flesh. Your happy thoughts are stopped when a dark and menacing aura emerges from the other side of the baby. You let your eyes travel over to the pouting face of your loving and childish husband, who rocked back and forth in one of the rocking chairs as he quietly chewed on his thumb.

"What's up with you? You're going to upset the baby." You grumble, giving your husband a slight glare as your son squirms in your arms. Mammon scoffs, turning his head away from you, the pout still evident on his face. "He's hogging you all to himself." He growls. It wasn't like Mammon hated his son.

On the contrary, he absolutely adored the little bundle that was a perfect mix between you and him. When you told him you were pregnant, he felt so much joy that he ran around the entire devildom, bragging to anyone he could while buying all sorts of baby items for boys and girls, not caring what it would be as long as it was healthy. However, there was one thing the avatar of greed failed to consider. Having to share his precious wife is the one thing his greedy mind could never handle.

After hearing his words, you roll your eyes at such a childish reason for your husband's sour mood. "Honestly, Mammon, you're ridiculous!" You huffed before turning your attention back to your son, watching as his eyes slowly started to close, indicating that it was time for a nap. You let out a few small hums, allowing him to finish getting his fill for the day. On the other hand, Mammon stared deeply at your tired expression, the bags under your eyes becoming more noticeable by the day, along with your messy hair and baggy clothes. He didn't mind you not dressing up because it just meant that no other guy would be eyeing you with their lustful gazes. The demon's eyes soon fall on your breasts, having grown immensely since your pregnancy, each mound filled with your precious milk. Mammon recalls a conversation with his brother Beelzebub a few days ago.

______

The two watched you from across the living room, feeding your hungry son, who happily latched onto one of your swollen mounds. "I wonder how it tastes…" Beelzebub mumbled without thinking as he stared longingly at your form, a bit of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, eyes hungrily taking in your exposed flesh. Mammon growled at his brother's words, shooting him a warning glare as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Watch it, Beel! I'll kill you, dammit." Your husband growled, feeling possessive of his human wife. Beelzebub puts a hand up in self-defense, his hungry gaze leaving you to look at his brother. "Sorry, I can't help myself." The avatar of gluttony mumbles his stomach, rumbling loudly, causing your baby to pull away with a loud cry.

Mammon quickly looked your way, his eyes catching the brief glimpse of your exposed nipple. His pupils dilate when he takes in the perked nipple, the tiny bite marks from your son's incoming teeth engraved into the tender skin. To his dismay, you quickly cover up as you try to comfort your son while giving Beelzebub an understanding smile as the demon panics while trying to calm his nephew down. Your husband stood there, bangs falling in his face as he went and licked his lips, a new greedy thought appearing in his selfish mind.

______

You let out a small sigh as you exit your son's room, Mammon close behind as he carefully shuts the door. "You look exhausted, mamma~" The demon cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as he nuzzled into your neck, leaving a few tender kisses. You relax at the feeling, leaning closer into his chest as his hands carefully rub up and down your sides, a content hum leaving your lips. "I am tired. I love my cute little S/n, but he just won't sleep properly, not to mention he's been teething a lot more lately, so I haven't been able to feed him properly." You sigh, tossing your head to the side when you feel Mammon's tongue trail up your neck as he places a few kisses against your jaw.

He lets out a slight hum at your words, raising a brow in curiosity as he looks up at you while resting his chin on your shoulder. "I have noticed the little rascal leaving more bite marks on me, but what do you mean you haven't been able to feed him properly?" His eyes trail down to the top of your low-cut shirt, your cleavage highly exposed as the shirt desperately clings to the flesh. Your husband enjoys the view as he backs his lower half away from you, feeling his pants getting tighter at the sight. You blush slightly while glancing in both directions of the hallway, causing the demon to grow even more curious at what you could say. You motion for him to come closer as you whisper in his ear. "Because of his teeth, it hurts too much when he's feeding, and I haven't had time to buy a pump yet." Your words cause Mammon to frown, not understanding what you meant. Seeing this, you bite your lip as you debate, telling your husband more before letting out a small sigh. "My breasts are full, and it's becoming painful, so I need to buy a pump to get the milk out and give it to S/n in a bottle." You mumbled, ears turning red from embarrassment.

Mammon takes a second to process your words, his eyes going wide once everything clicks before a mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. "Oh? Is that right?" He teasingly sings, his hands slowly making their way up your torso. You give a silent nod, too embarrassed to say anything else. "My poor wife~" Mammon playfully cries before his hands lightly grope at your swollen breasts, earning a loud gasp from you, your smaller hands shooting up to push him away from the sensitive flesh. "M-Mammon! Stop it!" You hiss, shooting at him with a warning glare, to which he just smiles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He doesn't budge as he lightly massages your breasts in the hallway, not caring for anyone who could stumble upon his shameless act.

You let out a small moan from your husband's movements before feeling your shirt dampen, causing your eyes to widen as you tried to push him away again. "Come on, if you don't stop, you will ruin my top!" You whined, trying to devise any excuse to escape the embarrassing position. Mammon's fingers came to a quick halt when they pressed against the now wet fabric, his eyes narrowing as he looked over your shoulder, seeing the two soaked spots where each nipple sat. "Y/n…is that what I think it is?" His tone is deep as he whispers into your ear, teeth lightly grazing the skin, sending a shiver throughout your body. He hums at your silence, his fingers teasingly pinching at the leaking buds, making your back arch as your knees give out. Mammon is quick to catch you, his arms wrapping around your waist. He lets out an amused chuckle that slightly echoes throughout the hall.

"Let me help you out mamma~ Your husband has been feeling extra greedy lately~" He cooed before sweeping you up his legs and taking him as fast as they could to your shared bedroom. Once inside, the avatar of greed couldn't keep his hands off you as he sat you on the edge of the bed. "You're such a good mamma, baby~" He moaned as he slowly sucked on one of your clothed breasts, his tongue lightly tasting the milk that had seeped through. You whine at the sudden feeling, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle your weak moans. Mammon sucks at the spot for a few more seconds before moving to the other, leaving darker wet spots. "Is this helping baby? Does it feel any better?" Your eyes soften at how sweet his tone is as you carefully caress the back of his head, earning a slight hum as he glances up at your lips, still sucking on the soaked fabric.

"I don't like the feeling of the fabric." You confess, cheeks pink as you look into his eyes. He pulls away carefully, standing up from his kneeled position, body now looming over yours. "Raise your hands, baby." You do as told, hissing when he starts pulling the fabric off. He shushes you, giving a small kiss to your forehead before taking a step back, multicolor eyes taking in the sight of your swollen tits, a ball of saliva struggling to get down his throat as he tosses the shirt to the side. He caresses your cheek while lightly trailing his fingers across each mound. "Such a good wife just for me." He growls, loving how you were letting him toy with your chest as he goes and scoots you further onto the bed. Once he thought you were positioned far enough, he quickly pinned you, watching your breasts bounce around.

Before you know it, he hungrily takes one into his mouth while one hand carefully squeezes at the other to relieve himself. You whimper at the sudden feeling as you grip the sheets. Mammon lets out a shaky moan when his mouth fills with the milk from your sensitive bud, his taste buds going insane over the new flavor. 'She was keeping this from me this whole time. What a naughty wife.' He thought, glancing up to see the cute face of his lover, all red, your lips slightly parted as shaky breaths filled his ears. He pulls away with a small pop, his tongue darting to lick at any leaked milk. "So tasty your milk is so fucking good, baby~" He moaned, cheeks flushed while caressing your cheek.

"P-please suck on the other one…" You shyly pant, wanting the painful feeling to go away. Smiling at your request, Mammon hovers over your other mound, his mouth open as he carefully squeezes the flesh with one hand. You watch as the white liquid shoots out onto his tongue, causing your insides to feel warm as you lightly press your legs together. Mammon continues his assault on your tender flesh, unable to get enough of your sweet taste. "Fuck… can't wait to brag to Beel about your sweet tits." He growls against the flesh, his greed showing as he refuses to remove his lips when he feels your hand push at his head. You whine at the feeling of your breasts being toyed with as Mammon tries to suck them dry. "M-Mammon honey, you're doing too much! They're really sensitive." You whined, trying to pull your husband from his greed.

Unfortunately, he was too far gone as he pulled away from your sore nipple, watching the swollen bud glisten with spit, his breathing heavy and eyes clouded with lust. "Hey baby…let me fuck them." He breathes as he pulls his pants and boxers down, revealing his erection dripping with precum. You look up at him in a daze, still trying to recover from the pleasure and relief your poor tits were experiencing all at once. "W-what?" You breathe, trying to prop yourself up with an elbow, only for your husband to push you back down, straddling your torso as he slowly pumps his cock. He looks at you hungrily while licking his lips, giving his stupid grin whenever he knows he will get what he wants no matter what.

"Let me fuck your tits, babe; I wanna see just how swollen they are~" He sings while sliding his cock between your breasts, both hands squeezing the mounds together as he starts moving his hips, tossing his head back in pleasure. A shaky growl escapes his throat, followed by a loud laugh. "Fuck baby, your breasts are suffocating my cock~ Just look at it disappearing~" He moaned, completely taken over by lust as his thrusts started picking up. You whine, eyes watching as his leaking tip pokes out at your face, a line of precum beginning to provide a lubricant between your mounds. "Mm, that's right, mamma keep watching~ open that pretty mouth for me, yeah?" He growls, squeezing at your tits and watching them leak under his hands. "Fuck." He cursed, his eyes trailing to your pretty lips as he watched you slowly stick your tongue out to lick the tip as it poked back at you, earning a slight hiss from the demon. "Don't tease." He scolds a slight pout on his lips before bucking his hips forward, this time more aggressively as he goes and shoves his cock deep into your mouth, causing a small, muffled squeak to leave your lips.

"That's right, baby…fuck so good. You're so fucking sexy." He whined while bringing a hand up to his mouth, licking at the milk, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, thrusts becoming sloppier. You just watched him as his cock slipped in and out of your mouth, your pussy dripping with arousal from this sudden change in your husband's behavior. Usually, he was never this horny in bed, but after having tasted the precious milk, his son had been hogging for the last few months, there was no stopping him. Mammon's chest heaves as he cups both your cheeks, a fucked-out expression on his face. "I'm gonna cum all over your sexy tits, my sexy wife~ So watch me, okay? Otherwise, I'll be so upset~" He whines, pulling his cock from your mouth to give it a few more pumps before biting his lip as his hips buck forward, white strands of semen spraying all over your messy breasts.

Mammon sits there, eyes lidded as he looks down at you, his mind all fuzzy from having reached his release. You look up at him, eyes wide in awe as you take in the beautiful sight before you. "Mammon… you're so handsome." You whisper, unable to take your eyes off your demon husband as his chest rises and falls, mouth parted. He looks down at you, cheeks red and eyes practically hearts. "Hmm?~ I'm handsome, yeah?" He purrs, a hand sliding behind him as he reaches into your pants, his fingers instantly coming in contact with your slick eyes widening. He looked back to make sure he wasn't imagining it due to his fuzzy mind as he went and slipped a finger into your pussy with ease, the wet noises echoing throughout the room.

"Fuck Y/n… you're so wet just from me sucking and fucking your tits? Have I been neglecting my beautiful wife?" He coos, slipping another finger inside, watching your expression change as you squirm under his weight. "N-No, just been so busy with S/n…ah~ that I just haven't had any time for t-this!" You cry, feeling Mammon's fingers curl inside, barely brushing against that spot he knows will drive you crazy. A pout falls on his face as he shakes his head, letting out a few disappointed tuts. "That's not good, baby! Why didn't you tell me I would've taken care of you sooner!" He scolded while pumping his half-hard cock, feeling himself more turned on the longer he stared at your cum covered tits. You whine as you try to arch yourself off the bed to no avail because your husband's weight is still on top of you.

"M-mammon honey, please!" You beg, reaching a hand up to him, watching as he lightly bit a finger, his eyes locked with yours. "I-I want you deep inside me before it's too late!" You cry, tears forming in your eyes due to your desperation. Mammon smirks, quickly changing his position as he spreads your legs apart, watching your slick drip onto the sheets. "So, fucking filthy baby…just how I love you~" He chuckles before quickly slipping his cock into your needy pussy, watching as your back arched while you gripped the sheets, a loud moan leaving your lips. Mammon hums his hips, moving at an inhuman pace as he relishes in the pleasure of your walls squeezing around his aching length. "Fuck! Fuck so good, baby~ Your pussy is amazing!" He cries, his eyes landing back on your tits, watching them leak with each bounce.

"So fucking sexy…just look at them leaking~" He laughs while wrapping an arm around your back, quickly lifting your upper half as he had you sit on his lap, hands grasping your hips so tight they'd leave bruises later. He hums, wrapping his lips around a sensitive mound, body shaking as he lets out multiple whines cock still pounding into your abused hole. "Want all of it… it's all mine, dammit!" The last part came out as a possessive growl as he lightly pulled the bud between his teeth, causing a small scream to leave your lips. "S-such a greedy demon…this is for S/n." You scold lightly, hitting him on the head. Mammon growls as he kisses your lips, his tongue invading every inch of your mouth.

"That's right, I'm your greedy husband~ So. Fucking. Greedy!" He emphasizes the last three words, the feeling of his cock hitting the entrance to your womb each time. A few cries leave your lips as you sloppily kiss his neck, leaving minor bruises wherever possible. Mammon hums, his thrusts getting sloppy as he feels your walls clench around him. "Are you getting close, baby? Are you going to cum for the daddy of your baby?" He growls, his grip tightening as he gets ready to firmly press your hips down. He glances at your breasts, his cock twitching with excitement. "Fuck they bounce so good I just can't get enough!" He whined, leaving a few kisses on your lips, unable to handle anymore as he pushed deep inside you. "M-mammon! I'm gonna cum! Gonna cum from your cock so deep inside me!" You cry, wrapping your arms around his neck. Mammon smiles, loving how you cried out from his cock as he went to whisper in your ear.

"Maybe I should make you pregnant again, huh? Keep your tits nice and full for daddy and the kids~" His words have you cumming, hard eyes rolling far back into your head as he shoots his release deep into your womb, letting out a pathetic whine as he kisses your breasts.

"I'll make you a mama forever~"

_____

Mammon hummed happily as he rocked back and forth in the chair, his aura pure and blinding as he watched his beautiful wife feed their son. "S/n mamma, is such a wonderful woman, right?" He gushed to the baby, who looked at him with no thoughts behind those innocent eyes. You roll your eyes, a slight blush on your cheeks as you carefully fix your top when your son finishes his fill. "There, there S/n! Don't listen to daddy, he's an idiot!" You scold while patting your son's back, ready for him to burp. Mammon pouts at your words before his eyes land on your breasts; his mind starts to wander into dark territory before your son throwing up catches his ears.

"DON'T WASTE IT!"

671 notes · View notes

jungkoode · 14 days ago

Text

死 KKANGPAE | #05 死

† medical emergencies †

"There's something ironic about learning to stitch wounds while he's sitting there half-naked, making your heart do things that probably need medical attention. But hey, at least if you stab yourself with the needle, there's a doctor in the house."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 7,5k

rating: mature

content: V being a menace, worried Chaewon, slaps, stitching practice, getting to know the medical chief aka J-Hope, shirtless stormy men and sexual tension.

☠ author's note ☠

DISCLAIMER TIME! I am not, in fact, a medical student. Shocking, I know. My knowledge of medical procedures comes entirely from watching too much House M.D. and falling down WebMD rabbit holes at 3 AM. So if any actual medical professionals are reading this... I am begging you to suspend your disbelief (；一_一)

I did spend like two hours researching stuff though! That counts for something, right? RIGHT? The things I do for accuracy, I swear. My browser history probably has me on several watch lists by now. Between this and the weapons research for chapter 3... Yeah, I'm definitely getting flagged somewhere (◎_◎;)

BUT ONTO THE GOOD STUFF! Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, please welcome our resident grumpy doctor to the stage! My love, my light, the medical chief himself - Jung Hoseok! What are we thinking? Because I'm lowkey living for his whole "I hate everyone but I'll still patch you up while cursing your existence" vibe.

Fun fact: I totally channeled my inner Dr. McCoy from Star Trek for his character. If you know, you know. And if you don't know... well, Spirk are my space parents and Bones is their bratty child. This is the hill I will die on. Do not @ me.

We've still got so many characters to properly introduce though! Remember that info dump in chapter 2? Yeah, we're gonna actually explore all of those personalities. Your girl's got PLANS.

Also, this chapter turned out way longer than expected but like... more content for you guys? You're welcome? I think? Look, my ADHD brain knows no word limits. It's either 500 words or 5000, there is no in between.

Anyways, hope you enjoy this one! Your comments fuel my questionable life choices and enable my caffeine addiction. Much love! (｡♥‿♥｡)

Caffeine addiction can only do so much. Stay tuned! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

You can't help but roll your eyes as V carries you through the castle like some damsel in distress. His confidence borders on cocky as he navigates the maze-like hallways, cradling you against his chest like you're made of glass. Which you're definitely not.

"Any chance we can skip this knight-in-shining-armor bit and just let me limp my way there?" You grumble, acutely aware of how your ankle throbs with each of his steps. "I promise I won't sue if I faceplant."

V's laugh rumbles through his chest. "And rob myself of playing the dashing hero? I don't think so, love."

His grin is infuriatingly charming as he spirals down another identical-looking hallway. The air smells like industrial cleaner and... cinnamon? You wrinkle your nose, trying to place that oddly familiar scent.

"You do know where you're going, right? Or should I start worrying that we're hopelessly lost?" Your tone is dry enough to kindle a fire as V makes yet another right turn. At this rate, you'll end up back where you started.

"I could navigate this place blindfolded," V assures you with a theatrical wink. "Just thought we'd enjoy the scenic route together."

"Scenic... sure." You emphasize each word with as much sarcasm as you can muster. But dammit, there's something about his playful banter that tugs at the corners of your mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, determined not to give him the satisfaction of making you smile.

You shift slightly in V's arms, trying to find a position that doesn't make your ankle scream. Each movement is a lovely reminder of how you got into this mess in the first place. t̶h̶a̶n̶k̶s̶ ̶J̶e̶o̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶

The castle halls are alive with activity, but everything seems to pause as V carries you through. Other members stop and stare, probably wondering why one of the most dangerous men in Kkangpae is playing nurse. Their whispers follow you like shadows.

"If you're trying to show off your navigation skills, I should mention we've passed that painting three times now." You eye him skeptically.

"Bold of you to assume I'm trying to impress you." His grin never wavers. "Though I'm flattered you think I'd go to such lengths."

The silence that follows feels loaded. This little detour isn't just about getting you to medical—it's about something else. A game, maybe, or a message. With V, it's hard to tell where the performance ends and reality begins.

"So what's the real reason for the scenic route?" You can't help asking. It's weird how safe you feel in his arms, considering he could probably kill you fifteen different ways without breaking a sweat.

"Call it... building rapport." His voice drips honey-sweet mischief. "You're quite the talk of the castle these days. Thought I'd see what all the fuss is about."

A laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. There's something absurdly hilarious about being carried through the gang's headquarters by one of its most lethal members.

"Well, don't get too attached." The words come out lighter than intended. "This doesn't make us friends."

His chuckle vibrates through his chest. "Give it time." When his eyes meet yours, they're dancing with amusement. "Besides, isn't this more fun than limping alone?"

More members pass by, their stares lingering a bit too long. You know tomorrow the castle will be buzzing with gossip about this little parade, but somehow you can't bring yourself to care.

"Fun's one word for it." You crack a smile despite yourself. "But just so we're clear—I'm staying out of whatever's going on between you and Jeon."

Something dark flickers across his face at the mention of Jeon, his thorny aura constricting for just a second before relaxing again.

"Wouldn't expect anything else." There's actual respect in his voice now. "You've got a mind of your own. That's rare around here."

The infirmary door finally comes into view. This weird little moment of almost-friendship hangs in the air between you.

"End of the line." V announces with theatrical flair. "I must say, this has been delightfully entertaining."

The wooden barrier of the infirmary looms ahead, but V shows no signs of letting you down. Before you can voice your protest, he shifts you slightly to pull out his digital card, swiping it with practiced ease. The panel blinks green, and he sweeps through the door like he's making a grand entrance at a red carpet event.

You're starting to feel less like a patient and more like a prop in V's latest dramatic production.

"Not you again, V. Get out of here."

J-Hope doesn't even bother looking up from his paperwork, his voice dripping with the kind of exasperation that only comes from dealing with V's antics on a regular basis.

"But it's an emergency, Hobs!" V's pout is so exaggerated it should come with its own spotlight. "This young lady has been severely injured."

J-Hope finally turns around, giving you a quick once-over before fixing V with an unimpressed stare. "That's what you say every three business days."

"Ah, but this time it's different, I promise." V's grin could charm snakes, but J-Hope seems immune.

"And why exactly should I believe you?" He crosses his arms. "You know I only handle council cases and actual emergencies."

V sets you down on the nearest bed with surprising gentleness, his playful demeanor dimming just slightly. "I know, I know. But look at her ankle. It's swollen like a balloon. I couldn't just leave her hobbling around, could I?"

J-Hope sighs but steps closer to examine your injury. His touch is clinical and professional as he assesses the damage. "Fine. But this is the last time, V. You can't keep using the infirmary as your personal clinic for every damsel you distress."

"Damsel I distress?" V laughs, eyes dancing with mischief. "That's a new one. But I appreciate your assistance, Hobs. You're a true friend."

"Don't 'true friend' me." J-Hope rolls his eyes, gathering his medical supplies. "I'm only doing this because it's my job. And because she actually looks like she needs help, unlike your usual guests."

V lounges against a counter like he owns the place, watching J-Hope gather supplies. "Come on, give me some credit. I do bring real patients sometimes."

"Yeah, once every solar eclipse." J-Hope doesn't even look up from his medical kit. His earthy, sandalwood scent mixes with the sharp hospital smell of the infirmary.

V just shrugs, that playful grin still plastered on his face.

J-Hope finally turns to you, all business now. "Let's check that ankle." Then to V: "Get out."

"Think I'll stick around." V doesn't budge an inch. "Make sure she's in capable hands and all that."

"Right, because you're such an expert on medical care." J-Hope rolls his eyes. "Just admit you're bored and looking for entertainment."

V's laugh bounces off the sterile walls. "Maybe. Or maybe I just care deeply about my fellow gang members' wellbeing."

"Ignore him," J-Hope tells you, voice gentler than you expected from someone who looks perpetually done with everyone's shit. "This might hurt a bit."

You try to focus on J-Hope's treatment, but it's hard with V hovering nearby, his thorny aura filling the room. There's something almost fascinating about watching these two interact—like they can't stand each other but also can't help falling into this familiar pattern of bickering.

It hits you then, sitting on this hospital bed with one of the gang's most dangerous members playing guard dog while the chief medical officer patches you up—you've somehow stumbled right into the middle of Kkangpae's complicated web of relationships. And judging by the way V's still watching everything like a hawk, you're not getting untangled anytime soon.

The quiet of the infirmary shatters when the door slams open with enough force to make you jump. J-Hope doesn't even flinch—probably used to dramatic entrances by now.

Chaewon bursts in looking like she just ran a marathon, panic written all over her face. When she spots you on the bed with J-Hope working on your ankle and V lounging nearby, that panic turns to pure rage.

She doesn't say a word. Just marches straight up to V and slaps him so hard the sound echoes off the sterile walls. V, being V, doesn't even have the decency to look hurt. Just keeps grinning like this is all terribly amusing.

"Wow, you're feisty today, Chaechae." He rubs his cheek, still smiling. The nickname only seems to piss her off more.

"You absolute asshole." Chaewon's practically vibrating with anger. "I let you handle cross-training with my division for one day and someone gets hurt? What the hell, V?"

V throws his hands up, the picture of innocence. "Hey now, this one's not on me. Blame Jeon."

"Jeon?" She scoffs like the very idea is ridiculous. "Yeah, right."

You figure you should probably step in before Chaewon decides to slap V again. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but your division chief shouldn't have to deal with assault charges today.

"Actually..." You clear your throat. "It kind of was Jeon. I mean, technically it was my fault."

Everyone turns to stare at you. Even J-Hope pauses his ankle-wrapping to raise an eyebrow.

"I tried to ambush him," you explain, heat creeping up your neck. "There were these weird noises in the forest, then footsteps, and I thought maybe it was an enemy or something. Turned out to be Jeon. And then we found out it was all just V's paintball game."

Chaewon's anger dims a little as she looks at you, but when she turns back to V, there's still plenty of bite in her voice. "Paintball? Again? Are you actually five years old?"

"Guilty." V's grin gets wider, if that's even possible. "But you have to admit, it keeps things interesting around here."

"Can we focus on the actual patient?" J-Hope cuts through the tension, sounding like he's one dramatic moment away from throwing everyone out. "You can kill each other later, preferably not in my infirmary."

Chaewon's shoulders drop a little, but you can still see worry lines creasing her forehead as she moves closer to your bed. Her presence feels protective, almost maternal—which is weird considering she can't be that much older than you.

"You okay?" She asks softly, then shoots V a glare that could melt steel. "I should've known better than to let them handle cross-training. Especially those two."

V just keeps grinning like this is the most entertaining show he's watched all week. He steps back, giving Chaewon space, but you notice he doesn't actually leave. Probably hoping for more drama.

"It's fine," you try to sound reassuring. "Just a sprain. Could've happened to anyone."

Chaewon's face says she's not buying it. The look she gives you reminds you of when your mom knew you were lying about doing your homework. Meanwhile, V's just chilling against the wall, watching everything unfold like it's his personal Netflix series.

J-Hope works on your ankle in silence, occasionally muttering what sounds like curses under his breath. The infirmary fills with an awkward mix of Chaewon's worried sighs, J-Hope's grumpy instructions, and V's unhelpful commentary about proper ankle-wrapping technique that makes J-Hope's eye twitch.

"There." J-Hope finally sits back, your ankle wrapped tight in elastic bandage. "Nothing serious, but you need to rest. Keep it elevated above your heart, keep the compression on. Should be fine in a couple weeks."

Your stomach drops. "I'm sorry—did you say weeks?"

"If you're lucky." He stands up with a scoff that suggests he's seen way too many idiots ignore his advice. "Could be longer if you try to play hero."

You look at Chaewon, hoping she'll say something about how that timeline is ridiculous.

Two weeks of no training?

You'll be behind everyone else, t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶u̶s̶e̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ completely out of practice by the time you're healed.

"I can't just not train for two weeks." The words come out whiny, but you're desperate. Two weeks of doing nothing while everyone else gets stronger? No way.

"Hell fucking no." J-Hope's voice is definite as he digs through medical drawers. "I'm not dealing with Jeon 2.0. You either rest for two weeks or I'll make it two months."

"That's why he avoids this place like the plague." V's still lounging in the doorway like he owns it, looking way too amused by everything.

J-Hope slams a drawer shut. "God forbid that fucker lets me do my actual job." He finally finds what he's looking for—a small bottle of pills. "Here." He tosses them at you with surprising accuracy. "Ibuprofen. One every eight hours. Six if you're dying, which you won't be if you actually rest."

"But—"

"Two. Weeks." Each word comes out like a threat. "Unless you want to become my permanent resident." His scowl could curdle milk. "And you—" He rounds on V, who's still grinning like this is the best entertainment he's had all day. "Get that bastard in here. His check-up's three months late."

V actually laughs at that. "What makes you think I have any control over what Mr. Stick-up-his-ass does?"

"Maybe he'll show up just to spite you." J-Hope's voice is dry as dust.

"Your optimism is adorable."

"Well, hope is literally my name." A rare smirk crosses J-Hope's face before his signature frown returns. "And you owe me, you dramatic little shit."

"As you wish, oh great healer." V throws his hands up in mock surrender, laying the theatrics on thick. "Your humble servant shall attempt this impossible task."

You stare at the bottle of ibuprofen in your hands, turning it over and over like maybe if you fidget with it enough, the label will change from "two weeks rest" to something more bearable. The thought of being benched for that long makes your stomach twist.

Two weeks is forever in gang time. Everyone else will be getting stronger, better, more valuable, while you're stuck playing invalid. By the time you're back on your feet, you'll be so far behind it'll be like starting over.

"Hey." The bed dips as Chaewon sits beside you, her presence grounding and familiar. "I can see those wheels turning. Don't stress. We'll figure something out."

"Actually," J-Hope pipes up from where he's finally managed to shoo V out the door. "You've got cross-training with my division coming up anyway. Could knock that out while you're healing. We always need an extra pair of hands here, and it'll keep you from going stir-crazy."

"Seriously?" You glance between them, hardly daring to hope. Medical training sounds way better than two weeks of staring at your ceiling.

"Makes sense." Chaewon nods, and something in her tone makes you think she's already working out the details in her head. "We can reschedule your Assassination Division training too. They can do individual sessions to work around your injury."

Wait.

Individual sessions? As in... one-on-one training? With V?

With Jeon?

Your brain short-circuits for a second before logic kicks back in. Cross-training exists for a reason—coordination between divisions is crucial in this life-or-death world you've chosen. One wrong move, one miscommunication, and people end up dead. If private lessons are what it takes to stay in the game, then t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶f̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ that's what you'll do.

"Okay." Your voice comes out smaller than intended, but you mean it.

"Good." J-Hope shoves his hands in his pockets, already looking done with this conversation. "See you tomorrow before lunch then."

"See you tomorrow, chief." You manage a smile, even as your mind races with possibilities—both exciting and terrifying—of what these next two weeks might bring.

Chaewon insists on wheeling you back to your room herself. The halls feel longer from wheelchair height, and her silence as she pushes you isn't helping. You can practically hear the gears turning in her head, probably already reworking training schedules around your stupid ankle.

She swipes her card at the elevator before you can even reach for yours. The ride up is quiet except for the soft hum of machinery and your own thoughts about how spectacularly you managed to mess up your first cross-training session.

The elevator dings open to your division's floor, and immediately you hear laughter spilling out from the lounge. Eunchae and Sakura are sprawled across the couch, but their smiles fade as soon as they spot you rolling in like some kind of injury parade.

"Holy shit, what happened?" Eunchae practically teleports to your side, crouching next to the wheelchair with wide eyes.

"Yeah, we heard all this commotion earlier but then you just... vanished." Sakura hovers nearby, her gaze bouncing between your wrapped ankle and your face like she's trying to piece together what went wrong.

You let out a long breath. "So... funny story. I tried to ambush Jeon during V's paintball game because I thought he was an enemy infiltrator or something."

"Oh no." Sakura's face does this thing where she's trying not to wince but totally failing.

"What the hell?" Eunchae's protective side flares up immediately. "Did that asshole body slam you or something?"

"Actually, no." You can't help but laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds now. "He just... countered me. Really easily. I'm the one who fucked up my landing."

"That's rough, buddy." Eunchae squeezes your shoulder, and you're grateful for how normal she's making this feel. "We played it smart—just hid behind trees and watched everyone else lose their minds."

"Yeah, except someone turned out to be weirdly good with a paintball gun." Eunchae nudges Sakura with her elbow. "Better watch out, Jeon. You've got competition."

Quick footsteps in the hallway make you look up. Yunjin bursts into the lounge like she's being chased, pink hair flying everywhere, face flushed.

"I heard voices and—oh my god, are you okay?" The words tumble out of her in a rush. "I couldn't find you after all that shooting started and I got so worried and—"

"Just a sprained ankle," you cut off her spiral with what you hope is a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, really."

Her shoulders drop a little, but she's still hovering like a concerned mother hen. "I got you dinner from the cafeteria. Figured you might be hungry after... everything."

The gesture makes something warm bloom in your chest. "Thanks, Yun. You're the best."

Chaewon clears her throat, reminding everyone she's still here. "Alright, enough chit-chat. Time to get you to bed. Doctor's orders."

Your little entourage follows as Chaewon wheels you to your room—Yunjin with the food tray balanced carefully in her hands, Eunchae and Sakura trailing behind like excited puppies. The scene would almost be funny if your ankle wasn't throbbing with every tiny bump in the floor.

Once you're settled in bed (after Yunjin fusses with your pillows for a solid minute), everyone finds spots to perch. The food smells amazing, and you realize you're actually starving.

"So what happened after I got taken out?" you ask between bites. "Did anyone else get ambushed by grumpy snipers?"

Sakura practically bounces in her seat. "Oh my god, you missed the best part! V did this insane action-movie roll thing when someone tried to corner him—"

"He looked like a deranged raccoon," Eunchae cuts in, making Yunjin snort water through her nose.

You lean back against your mountain of pillows (thanks, Yunjin), letting their chatter and laughter wash over you. Your ankle still hurts like a bitch, and the thought of dealing with Jeon and V for the next two weeks makes you want to scream a little. But right now, surrounded by these idiots who somehow became your family...

Maybe it won't be completely terrible.

t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶J̶e̶o̶n̶'̶s̶ ̶s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶f̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶f̶a̶c̶e̶

Morning hits different when your whole body feels like it's been run over by a truck. Between last night's paintball drama and your throbbing ankle, you sleep through your usual breakfast time. Not that there's much point in early rising when you're stuck playing invalid anyway.

By the time you make it to the cafeteria, the morning rush is long gone. Your beloved croissants are just a distant memory, replaced by sad-looking toast and a fried egg that's probably been sitting under the heat lamp for hours. You grab a cup of earl gray because there's no way in hell you're touching that brown water they call coffee at this hour.

At least Eunchae's still around. She's like Yunjin's louder, bolder evil twin—in the best way possible. While Yunjin's off somewhere being productive (thanks to that whole "new year, new me" thing), Eunchae's happy to keep you company, practically writing poetry about her breakfast sandwich. The girl takes her food seriously, and honestly? You respect that.

When breakfast's done, she insists on walking you to the infirmary. You've swapped the wheelchair for crutches because hobbling around on sticks somehow feels less pathetic than being rolled everywhere like some kind of injured parade float.

You slide your card at J-Hope's private wing, expecting rejection—his space is usually reserved for council members and people who are literally dying. But apparently he's added you to his VIP list because the scanner blinks green without hesitation.

J-Hope actually looks pleased when you walk in, which is weird enough to make you do a double-take. Then again, he probably doesn't get many patients who actually follow his instructions. Must be a nice change from dealing with gang leaders who think they're too important for basic medical care.

Eunchae gives you a warm wave and friendly nod before disappearing, leaving you alone with the medical chief. The quiet efficiency of his workspace and his focused presence makes everything feel weirdly... peaceful.

"Nice to see someone following orders for once," he mutters, not looking up from what appears to be a small mountain of paperwork.

"You didn't exactly make it optional." Your lips twitch into a crooked smile.

"Never do." He grunts, shuffling papers. "Some people are just too stubborn to live."

"Can't you pull rank on them? Being head of medicine and all?" The question slips out before you can stop it.

"Oh, I do. More than I'd like." His voice carries years of dealing with difficult patients. "In here, I'm god. They pull rank, I pull rank. Doesn't matter if you're the supreme leader of the universe—I'll uno reverse card your ass so fast your head will spin."

"Bet that goes over well with the big shots."

"Their faces are always priceless." He actually smirks, tapping a stack of papers into perfect alignment. "Now, ready to learn how to not kill people with medical supplies?"

"Born ready." You settle into a chair, trying not to look too eager. After all, how hard can it be?

The infirmary honestly feels very different from the rest of the castle—all sterile air and quiet efficiency. J-Hope moves around like he's performing some kind of medical ballet, laying out supplies with the kind of precision that makes you think he could probably do this in his sleep.

Which, you guess, he probably can.

"Alright, lesson one." He snaps on latex gloves. "Stitching wounds isn't like sewing clothes. You fuck up, get sloppy with cleanliness, and your patient gets an infection. In our line of work, that's not just inconvenient—it's deadly."

You pull on your own gloves, the latex clinging weird and tight to your fingers. J-Hope picks up a suture needle, holding it between you like he's showing off a prized possession.

"What about when we're in the middle of nowhere?" The question slips out before you can stop it. "You know, during missions when shit goes sideways?"

He sets the needle down, and something in his expression shifts. The overhead light catches the tired lines around his eyes—probably from years of patching up stubborn gang members at ungodly hours.

"Field medicine is different," he says, suddenly sounding more like a battle-hardened mentor than a cranky doctor. "Clean is still better, but sometimes you've got to choose between perfect and alive. When someone's bleeding out in some warehouse, you work with what you've got."

He grabs a bottle of disinfectant, tapping it with one finger. "This? This is your new best friend. Small enough to carry anywhere, strong enough to maybe keep someone from dying of infection in a pinch."

"What about stitches?" The question slips out before you can stop it. The thought of someone bleeding out because you don't know what you're doing makes your stomach turn.

J-Hope nods like he gets it. His usual grumpiness softens into something more teacher-like. "In the field? Use whatever you've got—fishing line, clean thread, even fibers from sterilized cloth. Main thing is getting that wound closed before they bleed out or it gets infected."

He lets that sink in for a moment, fiddling with something metallic between his fingers. For all his crankiness, there's something reassuring about how seriously he takes this stuff.

"But the second—and I mean second—you're back, you bring them to me." His voice goes hard again. "This isn't permanent fixing, it's just keeping them alive until they reach actual medical care."

He holds up what looks like a weirdly curved needle. "This is what we use for stitching. Curved makes it easier to control, especially for beginners." His fingers dance over different types of thread. "Absorbable sutures for internal wounds, non-absorbable for surface cuts."

"Yeah, that means absolutely nothing to me."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Right. Let's dumb it down." He reaches for what looks like a small medical kit. "In the field, you won't have time to play doctor. Your emergency kit will have basic curved needles and non-absorbable thread. Simple, reliable, gets the job done."

"And the other kind? The absorbable ones?"

"Those are for surgery—internal stuff. They dissolve on their own." He waves vaguely at the door. "Out there? Stick to non-absorbable. Quick and dirty fixes until you can get them proper help."

"So it's basically just... sewing someone up?" You try not to sound as skeptical as you feel.

"If you want to oversimplify it, sure." His dark eyes lock onto yours, dead serious. "But this isn't patching up your favorite jeans. You've got to line everything up right, make it tight enough to hold but not so tight it causes damage. And for fuck's sake, keep everything as clean as humanly possible."

You nod along, trying to picture yourself actually doing this in the field. The thought of having someone's life literally in your hands makes your stomach do weird flips.

"What about really bad wounds?" The question slips out before you can stop yourself. "Like, really bad."

J-Hope's hands pause over his supplies. Something in his expression shifts, and suddenly you remember he's probably seen exactly what you're imagining.

"Then your priority is keeping them alive long enough to get to me." His voice goes flat, professional. "Stop the bleeding first. Stabilize what you can. Stitches won't mean shit if they bleed out before you finish the first one." He looks you dead in the eye. "I'm good at what I do, but I can't bring back the dead."

The words hit harder than you expected. It's easy to forget sometimes, working in Seduction, that this isn't just some elaborate roleplay. People actually die in this life.

You watch as J-Hope threads the needle easily, his movements quick and precise. When he turns to what looks like a piece of fake skin, you try not to think too hard about where it came from or why it looks so... realistic.

"Pay attention now." He positions the needle above the practice pad. "Basic interrupted suture—it's your best friend in the field. Simple, reliable, gets the job done."

The way he handles the needle is almost mesmerizing. Each movement flows into the next like he's done this a million times before. Which, considering his job, he probably has. The stitches line up perfectly, neat little soldiers in a row.

"The key is entering at a 90-degree angle," he explains, demonstrating another perfect stitch. "Too shallow, it won't hold. Too deep, you cause more damage."

You lean closer, fascinated despite yourself. It's kind of beautiful, in a morbid way. Like some deadly form of embroidery.

"Your turn." He holds out the needle, and suddenly this doesn't seem so fascinating anymore. "Time to see if you've been paying attention."

Your hand definitely doesn't shake when you take it. Not even a little. And if it does? Well, that's between you and whatever poor bastard ends up needing your stitches someday.

You take a deep breath and try to copy J-Hope's movements. Your hands aren't nearly as steady as his, but he guides you with surprising patience, adjusting your grip here and the angle there. For someone so cranky, he's turning out to be a pretty decent teacher.

"Not completely terrible for a first try." The words sound almost like praise coming from him. "This kind of skill? Could mean the difference between life and death out there."

A soft beep cuts through the quiet, followed by the infirmary door swinging open.

Cool air rushes in, making goosebumps rise on your arms.

You don't need to look to know who it is—there's only one person whose presence makes the air feel this heavy, like the moment before rain.

Jeon walks in, all dark clothes and darker mood. His eyes find yours first, something unreadable flickering across his face before he turns to J-Hope.

"Looks like V didn't hold back," J-Hope says with a smirk.

Jeon just grunts, which seems to be his default response to everything.

"Sit." J-Hope points to a nearby chair like he's commanding a particularly stubborn dog. "I'll deal with you in a minute."

You try not to stare as Jeon drops into the chair, but it's hard to ignore how he fills up the space. Everything about him radiates tension—from the set of his jaw to the way his fingers tap against his thigh. The guy looks about as comfortable as a cat in water.

The contrast between them is almost funny—J-Hope moving around with his usual efficient calm while Jeon sits there emanating pure "don't touch me" energy. You catch a whiff of pine and mint when he shifts, and something in your chest does this weird little flip that you choose to ignore.

You try to focus on your suturing practice, but your eyes keep drifting to Jeon. It's weird seeing him like this—quiet, still, almost t̶a̶m̶e̶ docile. The great Chief of Tactical Assassinations, reduced to sitting in a medical chair waiting for J-Hope like some kind of obedient schoolboy.

He looks... different here. Less like the intimidating force of nature who uses you as paintball bait, more like someone who really, really doesn't want to be at the doctor's. His knee bounces slightly—probably the only sign he'll allow of his discomfort.

The door clicks shut behind J-Hope, and suddenly you're very aware that you're alone with Jeon. The silence feels heavy, broken only by the soft rustle of medical supplies and his measured breathing.

You force yourself to concentrate on the needle in your hand. These stitches aren't going to practice themselves, and the last thing you need is to look incompetent in front of him. But it's hard to focus when you can feel him there.

It's just so strange seeing him hold himself back like this. Usually his presence fills any room he's in, but now he seems almost... contained. Like he's trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable.

It doesn't work though—you're still hyper-aware of every tiny movement he makes.

The silence stretches until it feels like another person in the room. You've never been good with awkward silences, but starting a conversation with Jeon feels about as appealing as pulling teeth. Besides, what would you even say?

Thanks for using me as bait earlier, that was super fun?

"How's the ankle?"

His voice catches you off guard—low and quiet, missing that sharp edge he usually carries. For a second, you're not sure if you imagined it.

"It's... getting better," you manage, your voice too loud in the quiet room. "J-Hope knows what he's doing."

The corner of Jeon's mouth twitches up, and for a second he looks almost human. "Yeah, give that man a white coat and suddenly he thinks he runs the place."

There's this weird undertone of respect when he says it though. Like maybe he actually appreciates having someone who isn't afraid to boss him around. You get it —there's something weirdly comforting about J-Hope's no-nonsense attitude, even when he's being a grumpy dictator about your ankle.

"He definitely doesn't take shit from anyone." You find yourself smiling a little, because it's true. Even the mighty Jeon has to sit and wait his turn in here.

Something flickers across his face and he looks away quickly, like he just remembered he's supposed to be an intimidating gang leader, not someone who makes small talk about cranky doctors.

You go back to your stitching, trying to focus on the fake skin instead of how weird it feels to have an almost normal conversation with him. The silence creeps back in, but it's different now. Less like you're both waiting for the other to attack, more like... well, like two people just waiting for the doctor.

You try to focus on your stitching practice, but something feels off. There's a rustle that doesn't quite fit with the usual infirmary sounds—too careful, too measured.

When you glance up, you catch Jeon staring at... a pastry bag? One that definitely wasn't there when he first walked in. Or maybe it was and you were too distracted by his whole everything to notice.

He's looking down at it like it holds the secrets of the universe, brow furrowed in concentration. It's weird seeing the Chief of Tactical Assassinations, terror of rival gangs, looking almost t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶f̶i̶e̶d̶ uncertain about a paper bag.

What could possibly have the human hurricane so wrapped up in thought? The last time you saw him this intense, he was lining up a sniper shot. But now he's just... staring. At pastries.

Before you can ponder this mystery further, J-Hope bursts back in, arms loaded with enough medical supplies to patch up a small army. The sudden entrance makes Jeon flinch—just barely, but you catch it. His eyes snap up like he's been caught doing something wrong.

Then, in a move that feels almost panicked (if Jeon did panic, which he obviously doesn't), he thrusts the bag at J-Hope.

"For you." The words come out gruff and quick. His tattooed hand extends the bag like he's diffusing a bomb, gaze fixed somewhere over J-Hope's left shoulder.

J-Hope freezes mid-step, and honestly? Fair reaction. If this was V pulling something like this, it'd be normal—probably part of some elaborate prank. But Jeon? The same guy who treats medical check-ups like personal attacks? Bringing peace offerings?

"You know I don't even like croissants, right?" J-Hope stares at the bag like it might bite him. The disbelief in his voice makes you pause mid-stitch.

"It was the last one." Jeon crosses his arms, all defensive posture and clenched jaw.

J-Hope holds the pastry bag between two fingers like it's evidence in a crime scene. When he looks up at Jeon, his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. "What's the catch? Trying to bribe your way out of the physical?"

"What am I, V now?" Jeon's shrug carries enough attitude to fill the room. "No catch. Just thought I'd... you know." He waves vaguely at the bag, looking like every word physically pains him.

You focus very intently on your stitching practice, pretending you're not eavesdropping on whatever this weird interaction is. The silence stretches until J-Hope breaks it.

"Right..." He drags the word out like he's talking to a particularly suspicious child. "Since when do you do random acts of kindness?"

Something flickers across Jeon's face. His eyes meet yours for a split second, and your stomach does this weird flip that you choose to blame on hunger. The scent of pine gets stronger as his irritation builds.

"Since now, apparently." His voice could freeze hell over. "If you don't want it, give it to her. I don't give a shit."

J-Hope's eyebrows climb even higher as he turns to you, lips twitching. "Want a potentially poisoned croissant? I can test it first if you're feeling brave."

Your ears definitely perk up at the mention of croissant. After that sad excuse for breakfast this morning, you're practically going through withdrawal. The smell of butter and fresh pastry wafting from the bag is t̶o̶r̶t̶u̶r̶e̶ tempting.

"I'll risk it." You can't help but laugh a little. "Can't say no to a good croissant, even if it comes from suspicious sources."

Jeon's eyes find yours for a split second. Something colors his face—too quick to catch—before that familiar blank mask slides back into place. He doesn't say anything, but some of that rigid tension leaves his shoulders.

J-Hope passes you the bag, but his attention stays locked on Jeon like he's trying to solve a particularly frustrating puzzle. The pastry's still warm when you take it, and honestly? If it's poisoned, at least you'll die happy.

"Right then." J-Hope's voice goes stern. "Your turn, Mr. I-Can-Walk-It-Off. You're three months late for your check-up." He emphasizes each word like he's scolding a child. "Three months, Jeon."

Jeon responds with his signature grunt, finally hauling himself out of the chair. He moves to the medical bed a few meters away from you, and you can smell the pine notes slowly dissipating. Not that you're paying attention to how he smells. Obviously.

The infirmary suddenly feels smaller when Jeon steps into the medical bed area. There's something about the way he moves—all quiet power and deadly grace—that reminds you of his rank. Every single one of his steps looks calculated, like he's constantly ready for anything.

He shrugs off his leather jacket, and you try really hard not to stare. t̶r̶y̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶k̶e̶y̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶d̶ The movement is unfairly fluid, drawing attention to arms that definitely come from years of training. The kind of definition that makes you think he could probably lift you without breaking a sweat. (You already know he can)

Your eyes drift to his hands—the same ones you've seen wrapped around coffee cups or handling weapons, but never really looked at before. The infirmary's harsh lighting makes the tattoos on his wrists pop, intricate designs disappearing under his black t-shirt like secrets waiting to be discovered. His fingers are long and elegant despite their strength, decorated with simple silver and black rings that somehow make them look even more dangerous.

He grabs the hem of his shirt and—oh.

Oh.

The movement is so casual it's almost offensive, the way he just strips off his shirt like it's nothing. Like he doesn't know exactly what he's doing to your blood pressure right now.

A tattoo catches your eye, peeking above his waistband. "Devil never sleeps" inked in bold letters right above the waistband of his pants, and suddenly you're very interested in what that might mean. t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶s̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶l̶a̶t̶e̶r̶

Your gaze definitely doesn't trail up his torso. You absolutely don't notice the thin silver chain you've never seen before, probably always hidden under that stupid leather jacket. And you certainly don't catalog how the muscles in his chest look strong but not bulky, or how his abs are defined but natural-looking, the kind that come from actual fighting instead of just gym sessions.

And for some stupid reason the pine scent comes back, stronger, and you realize you might be staring. But honestly? If he's going to just casually strip in front of you, he can deal with the consequences. You're only human, after all.

You try to focus on your stitching practice. Really, you do. But there's something magnetic about the way his scars and tattoos map stories across his skin. Each mark feels like a chapter you shouldn't want to read but can't help being curious about. It's not just that he's t̶o̶o̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶ physically impressive—it's the way he wears his battle wounds like armor.

Jeon doesn't seem to notice or care about your wandering eyes. He carries himself with this casual confidence that suggests being shirtless in the infirmary is just another weekday for him. He shifts a bit, settling on the edge of the medical bed.

You snap your attention back to your suture pad so fast you nearly stab yourself with the needle. This is not the time to appreciate how the fluorescent lights catch on his silver chain, or how his muscles shift when he—nope. Absolutely not. Back to stitching.

J-Hope transforms before your eyes, seemingly possessed by professional focus. He grabs his stethoscope with ease, moving toward Jeon like he's approaching any other patient. Not a deadly gang leader who could probably kill someone with his a snap of his fingers.

"Let's check that heart of yours first, Jeon." The words come out clinical, detached.

Jeon just nods, and it's weird seeing him this... compliant. His stormy presence seems to settle into something quieter.

When the stethoscope touches Jeon's chest, the room goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You definitely don't notice how the metal disc sits right above one of his tattoos, or how his breathing stays perfectly steady despite the cold touch.

"Heart sounds good, strong and regular." J-Hope moves the stethoscope, all business.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes because of course his heart's perfect too.

Stupid, perfect Jeon with his stupid, perfect everything.

Jeon stares straight ahead at some fascinating spot on the wall, the perfect picture of indifference. His chest rises and falls steadily under J-Hope's stethoscope, and you definitely don't notice how the muscles shift with each breath. Nope. Not at all.

"Deep breaths," J-Hope instructs, all business.

Jeon complies without a word. The movement makes his chest expand more noticeably, and you suddenly find your suturing practice absolutely fascinating.

Super interesting, these fake stitches. Totally worth your complete attention.

Except it's not.

Your hands are going through the motions, but your mind keeps wandering. The needle weaves in and out mechanically while you try really hard not to think about the way the infirmary lights catch on Jeon's silver chain, or how his jaw clenches slightly when J-Hope's stethoscope touches a cold spot.

You feel like you're intruding on something private, which is stupid because it's just a medical exam. But there's something weirdly intimate about watching someone like Jeon—who's usually wrapped in leather and attitude—sitting here half-naked and compliant.

The needle slips.

"Shit—" The sharp sting makes you jump.

A bright red bead of blood wells up on your fingertip, because apparently you can't even do basic stitching when you're t̶o̶o̶ ̶b̶u̶s̶y̶ ̶o̶g̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ slightly distracted.

"You okay over there?" J-Hope looks up from his examination.

You're about to brush it off when you feel it—Jeon's eyes on you. The weight of his gaze hits like a physical thing, dark and heavy and way too knowing. Like he can tell exactly why you stabbed yourself, and t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶m̶a̶k̶e̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ that's... interesting.

There's something in that look—something that makes your skin prickle and your breath catch.

Is he annoyed? Amused? Or maybe...

He turns away before you can figure it out, but the heat lingers on your skin like a brand.

Jeon grabs his shirt and pulls it back on in one smooth motion. You try not to notice how the fabric clings slightly before settling into place, or how his hair gets messed up for just a second before he runs his fingers through it. Just like that, the mask slides back on—Chief of Tactical Assassinations restored, that glimpse of something more human safely locked away again.

Your finger throbs, a tiny punishment for letting yourself get distracted.

t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶h̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶n̶i̶c̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶s̶ Real professional, getting caught staring like some rookie. In this life, distractions get people killed. Though usually not by sewing needles.

J-Hope's already moving around the room, putting away his supplies. He definitely catches you trying to hide your pricked finger, because suddenly he's there, slapping a band-aid on it with more force than strictly necessary.

"Pay attention next time," he grumbles, but there's something almost fond in how annoyed he sounds. "These needles aren't toys."

Jeon's already heading for the door, leather jacket back in place. He moves like someone who can't wait to put as much distance between himself and this medical checkup as possible.

Can't really blame him—you'd probably bolt too if you had to deal with J-Hope's judgment this early in the morning.

He pauses at the door though, just for a second. Those dark eyes find yours one last time, and something in your chest does this weird little thing that has nothing to do with the pine and mint scent he leaves behind.

Then he's gone, and you're left wondering what kind of storms are brewing behind those gloomy eyes.

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petew21-blog · 10 months ago

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What do I do?!?

I royally fucked up. What do I do now?

I cast a spell that was supposed to swap me and my college friend. I didn't know that your body would change and not your location. What is bad is that I am in the backseat of our family car with my parents driving. What is even worse is that the spell didn't change my body but my little brother.

For now he seems unaware and is still focused on his game, but it's just a matter of time before our parents notice when they stop arguing.

Also Andrew started messaging me that he changed into my little borther and is pissed now. Dammit, I was really looking forward to atleast enjoy Andrew's body for myself for a little while and it's giving me weird thoughts right now.

What do I do?!?

#male body swap #body switch #Brother swap #Accidental body swap

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theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming · 1 month ago

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Nicole Reads A Lot of Fanfiction (and she's gonna share it with you): Week 3

eventually I'll make myself a banner I am making my way though fics that have been buried in my tumblr likes for a long long time (think over 10 years in some cases...) so you'll see a surplus of Sterek from the olden times in the coming weeks :P

Enjoy!

Sterek: 8 and Buddie: 4

The Key by aussiebee | @aussiebee (2019•GA•7.4K)

Eligible bachelor Derek Hale has announced that whomever can take the key from around his dog's neck will be the person he marries. Stiles Stilinski think this is utterly ridiculous.

Hot Pocket Ratio by ShippersList (2016•M•12.3K)

At the threat of the alpha pack, all Derek wants is to keep his pack safe and alive. As the last resort, he tries summoning a demon to help with fighting the alpha pack. He gets a bit more than he bargained for. Or, the story where the classic demon deal of "Will you pledge your firstborn to me?" takes some unexpected turns.

reGuardless by raisesomehale | @raisesomehale (2015•M•3.4K)

The president had been to the point when he explained to Derek the rules of the job. Stiles was in the room while these rules were recited: Never take your eyes off of him in public. That’s how he liked to dodge his last bodyguards. No more than an arm's length apart. He’s more slippery than you’d think. Escort him to and from appearances. Intervene in any situation that might tarnish the Stilinski image... The list went on and on. As did the games of chicken Stiles initiated to test Derek with these rules.

The Key to Your Heart by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) | @halehathnofury (2020•E•35.6K)

Stiles Stilinski has come to the small town of Beacon Hills to write a feature on Derek Hale, son of Senator Talia Hale and one of the most sought after (and elusive) omegas in the U.S. He's got drive, persistence, charm and a plan to get Derek to give his first and only interview about his cunning plan to have his suitors try to win his hand by managing to get the key to his heart from the alpha of his rescue wolf pack. Stiles is most definitely NOT going to fall in love. Nope, not even a little bit. Dammit.

The Wolf Den by BigBadLittleRed (DonnyPhantom) | @star-shuttle-scout (2015•NR•33.6K)

Stiles Stilinski works for the Sheriff's Department in Beacon Hills County. He considers himself a rather invested young father to his only son, Spencer. He knows everything about the boy, except maybe he doesn't. On a day where Lydia's caught up in work for too long, Stiles has to take his son to a weekly event at the library he knew nothing about. He's especially confused when he finds out it's hosted by a young man his age with rather eccentric style, and a service dog. His name is Derek, the kids call him Dee-Dee.

Promise You'll Look After Him by DiscontentedWinter | @discontentedwinter (2015•M•9.9K) [Less Sterek more Sheriff]

Sheriff Stilinski is used to dealing with victims of violent crime. He knows how to approach kids who've been beaten and sexually assaulted. Except this time it's his son. It's Stiles.

Walking Into Darkness by alenie | @alenie (2014•T•6.3K)

Derek hears Stiles before he sees him. There's anxious, wheezy breathing coming from the next aisle over in the grocery store, accompanied by a racing heart and the smell of unwashed sneakers and hair gel. He turns the corner and Stiles is standing frozen in the dairy aisle, knuckles clenched around the metal of his shopping basket.

The Trouble With Falling by o_hoechyeah (2024•GA•3.6K)

Derek has guarded many souls in his time. He didn’t usually care too much about them. He’d witnessed so many in his lifetime that they hardly seemed unique anymore. Except for him. Stiles. Derek found that he was absolutely taken with the little human.

Five Years by aubrey_writes (2025•M•8.3K)

“It’s yours,” Eddie had finally said, looking down at it for a moment before handing the phone to him. “I… There’s a lot of stuff you might want to go through on there.” Buck frowned, confused, but when he looked down at the screen, he saw it. [250 missed calls][635 unread messages] “Wha–” “A lot of people used it as a… A way to communicate with you while you were gone.” Eddie’s voice was tense. Buck couldn’t stop staring, reading the top message from Eddie over and over again, the only one that he could see. It didn’t make sense. “You don’t have to go through it all but… We missed you, ba– Buck.” Buck slowly looked up from his phone, and there was that look again. Eddie had reached out, the same way he had when Buck came back, fingers brushing across his face gently. Buck wanted to melt into it. He did, later, but in that moment, he had to keep himself together. “I want to.” “Okay,” Eddie’s hand had dropped. Buck’s skin felt cold. “Come get me when you’re done.” OR Buck gets blipped. Eddie's left behind. A love story told through what Eddie did in his absence.

here’s my confession (I’m kind of hooked on you) by donationwayne | @donationwayne (2024•M•115K)

Buck is forced to go on a temporary medical leave after getting crushed by a flight of stairs. In the meantime, he works at dispatch while he recovers. One evening after work, Buck hooks up with a mysterious, hot, family oriented DILF. The following morning he’s mortified and a little love sick after discovering said hook-up aka Eddie Diaz is the newest (temporary) firefighter liaison--poached from a house in El Paso, Texas. Buck navigates becoming best friends and eventually work partners with his ex-hookup. In the meantime, he desperately tries not to fall in love. He fails. Cue: An adorable five year old, prank wars, gay offs, break room gossip, a fake dating plot, firefighting shenanigans, a packed summer of PTA responsibilities, karaoke, and copious amounts of cupcakes and thai food OR tldr: the hot dilf from the bar is my new work partner

Not Doing This Alone by carpediaz | @sofa-king-lame (2025•M•27.4K)

Things flow uncharacteristically seamlessly for Eddie over the following weeks. He eventually manages to only feel the need to check in on Christopher once each shift, twice if he’s on a double. Buck feels like part of the family so fast it makes Eddie’s head spin a little, especially when he comes home and Buck is waiting with a home cooked meal and stories of what he and Christopher got up to that day. or The one where Eddie hires Buck as a nanny for Christopher and has to navigate falling in love with someone he shouldn't want (who definitely wants him in return).

I Feel Like a Person for a Moment of My Life by serenelystrange | @serenelystrange (2025•E•13.3K)

“Must have been the wind,” he says to himself, hurrying over to the garage door and locking it closed before heading back towards the stairs. From the dark hiding spot inside the bed of the pickup truck, a pair of yellow eyes blink slowly, watching him go.

#Sterek #Buddie #stiles stilinski x derek hale #evan buckey x eddie diaz #2025 Fic Rec List #Sterek Fic Rec #Buddie Fic Rec

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venny-the-chubbyblack-writer · 6 months ago

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Hello, Miss Ven. Recently found your posts and was curious if you would be up for a short or head cannon of fem reader teasing either of the Shinazugawa brothers into blushing. (Yes I simp for these boys :">...that and Muzan but we won't go there :P) If you are busy, I get that too. Just a quick ask, if you can. Hope you take care of yourself and are doing well :) *hugs from afar*

Sure! Here's a quick headcanon where reader teases both Sanemi and Genya Shinazugawa, leading them to blush:

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Teasing Sanemi Shinazugawa

What was that jerk he did?😳😏

Sanemi is tough, brash, and difficult to crack, but (Y/N) has always had a way of getting under his skin in a way that no one else can. It's not that he’s soft around her, no way he'd admit that. But today, she was pushing him even more than usual.

As the two of them trained together, (Y/N) couldn’t help but throw in a few playful jabs, knowing how easily Sanemi flustered when she was around. He had been giving her pointers on sword techniques, gruff as always, and she took the opportunity to slip in a comment.

“Oh, so you do care about me,” she teased, flashing him a grin as she tilted her head.

Sanemi’s eyebrows furrowed, his usual frown deepening. “Don’t be stupid,” he grumbled, but his cheeks were already tinged pink. He tried to look away, but (Y/N) wasn’t letting him off the hook.

“Oh come on, admit it. You think I’m special, don’t you, Sanemi?”

His jaw clenched, and his grip tightened on his sword as he stared her down. "Tch, quit talking nonsense."

But (Y/N) stepped closer, leaning in just enough to make him nervous. “Your face says otherwise.”

His blush deepened, and he turned away completely, muttering something under his breath. “Dammit, (Y/N), you’re impossible.”

Victory was hers as she saw the rare sight of Sanemi Shinazugawa flustered. He could be as tough as nails, but teasing him was always her favorite way to break through that shell.

---

Teasing Genya Shinazugawa

So cute🥰

Genya was different from his brother. Quiet, a bit shy, but fiercely protective. (Y/N) had noticed how easily he got flustered whenever she gave him attention. So naturally, she couldn’t resist teasing him every now and then.

After a mission together, they sat down to rest, and (Y/N) decided to playfully mess with him. She leaned close, too close for Genya’s comfort, and poked him on the shoulder.

“You’re always so serious, Genya,” she said with a playful smirk. “But I think you’re kinda cute when you get all worked up.”

Genya’s eyes widened, and his face turned a deep shade of red almost instantly. He stammered, trying to find the words. “I-I—what are you saying?”

“Just that you’re cute,” she repeated, her voice teasingly sweet.

He looked down, unable to meet her gaze, his blush spreading across his entire face. “You’re messing with me...”

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug, “but I mean it. Look at you, all flustered. I didn’t know the tough Genya could blush so easily.”

He fidgeted with his hands, clearly embarrassed, but there was a small smile on his lips. He couldn’t help it; as much as her teasing embarrassed him, he secretly liked the attention.

(Y/N) just chuckled, enjoying the rare sight of a blushing Genya. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

His blush only deepened, and he let out a quiet sigh, defeated by her teasing charm.

---

Both brothers were tough in their own ways, but (Y/N) had a special way of making them blush like no one else could.

———

Thanks for your requests babes and yes I am taking care of myself and I always drink water :)

*hugs*

#demon slayer sanemi #demon slayer genya #genya m.list #kny genya #genya shinazugawa #genya x reader #sanemi x reader #kny sanemi #sanemi m.list

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randomyuu · 1 year ago

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the way it follows you home, the stories i never told

My guy Vox once again graced us with lovely Goyuu fanfics, and the way it follows you home, the stories i never told, made me go FERAL.

Time travel? Two Gojou Satorus? Double affection for our sunshine Yuuji? Yuuji sandwich? What feels like possible continuation of (you'll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become???

FUCK.

I need to stop indulging my imagination too much. I should’ve been content with writing long-ass comments but noooooo, my brain goes “you gotta draw it”. DAMMIT VOX, YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITINGS HHHHHH

So… usually I should’ve picked a favourite scene that is within my drawing capability, but I just… love all three chapters??? So I made a questionable time investment? I can’t stop??? Help???

This is probably the most ambitious fanart project I’ve ever done so far. Fair enough, considering I might combust if I keep these welled-up emotions inside from reading Vox’s Goyuu fics. Fuck.

Fic info:

Title: the way it follows you home, the stories i never told

Author: @voxofthevoid

Pairing: YuuGoGo. Future!Yuuji, Future!Gojou, Teen!Gojou

(idk why I laugh writing YuuGoGo. I’m beyond help)

Currently, it is 3 chapters out of 8. And it’s gonna be NSFW chapter 4 onwards, so don’t forget to read the tags first, folks!

The drawings are under Read More, because I have lots of thoughts surrounding each chapter and drawings. It’ll be hella long if I didn’t hide it here. It was a mess down there. A combination of hours before, during, and after I read said fic. I’d say good luck finding the art among the sea of jumbled words but… you’ll find them easily. Don’t worry about it haha

SPOILERS FOR ALL 3 CHAPTERS! I highly recommend reading those first before diving into these drawings!

Also for the comics, read from right to left please!

From here on, I will be referring to the Future!Gojou as Gojou and the teenage one as Satoru.

Overall, drawing all these is fun! Really fun! This project pushed me quite hard, forcing me to test my limit (because I rarely draw this much back to back). Since this is a combination of drawings and comics, the coloring style will not be consistent. In a way, I want to try some brushes I never get to use, as well as try out my new graphic tablet. Drawing these got me giggling because I was finally able to let loose during line art. It's much easier to do so, and sometimes I just get to reread the fic and giggle to myself for the nth time.

CHAPTER 1:

Whooo. Whooooooooo—

Ok, ok, the premise is just that good. It intrigued me, fascinated me, and I just… oomph. I cannot refuse a Time Travel Yuuji Sandwich. Sign me up.

Honestly, there are two scenes that are just… a bit too clear in my mind when reading this chapter. That would be the one I drew above, and the other is when Yaga called Gojou to come outside of the class. I love, loooove how Vox wrote Satoru’s POV. And when Yuuji fucking giggles?

I lost it.

Can you imagine, drawing Yuuji grins, with shiny stuff, maybe some sunlight, just purely happy and indulging Gojou?

Help me, for I am drowning in my love and adoration for Yuuji.

Page 2 is an experiment on using harsh black as shading (kind of?). I really enjoyed colouring Yuuji, and drawing those buffalo skulls! I wish I can grasp the concept of contrast a bit better tho :v

CHAPTER 2:

This is probably the only chapter where I picture still images instead of comic panels. A bit like those cool chapter covers in mangas. The one I really, really want to draw is the scene with Satoru on the table. Can’t pass the opportunity to highlight Satoru being a brat, albeit a really cool brat.

Cool idea drawing always proves to be a challenge, because of course my artistic skill just so happens to be below the requirement. Thank you, Sketchfab, for the chair and desk’s perspective otherwise I’m screwed lmao

The second scene that I want to draw the most is this:

Gojou is one step away from climbing Yuuji. Also, I have a bit of a problem picturing a man pouting that makes him look crazy instead, so please have Gojou pouting adorably instead. Because, as Yuuji said (with love), Gojou is (also) a brat.

This is possibly my favorite art in this project, after Yuuji's in Chapter 1 page 2. It's clean because I don't have to draw background, and I was having a fun time drawing Yuuji. And Gojou's squishy cheek as well.

Oh, actually, there is a “manga” scene in this chapter. It’s when Yuuji said, “I love Satoru.”

I just—

AAAAAHHHHH YUUJIIIIIII YOU AND VOX ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. That secure relationship between Yuuji and Gojou? Satoru’s description of how Yuuji’s smile could blot out the sun??? Not me screaming 💀 I also see bits of hints of possible co-dependency, though I could be reading those wrong, but either way I’m good. Secure and possessive relationships are fun to consume hhhhhh

But yeah. There are too many wholesome Yuuji smiles in this fic, and I… I am not confident enough to draw genuine happiness. It’s too much for me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

For this chapter, another reason why I chose these two scenes is just because I want to try and draw cover-worthy pictures of Yuuji and Satoru, and Yuuji and Gojou (cough)

CHAPTER 3:

We start the chapter with Nanamin. Ah, Nanamin. I forgot what his teen self looked like and was surprised to see his design again lmao

I want to draw Yuuji and Nanami scene because… I just want to, I guess. I have never drawn him before (Yaga as well) so that's an interesting challenge. I got two ideas on how I want to draw it. One is a bit painting-esque, and the other one is like another chapter cover. In the end, I chose the cover one because I want to emphasise the difference between teen!Nanami and the Nanami from Yuuji’s original timeline, and how the watch feels like a connection between the same (yet not) person. It’s a bittersweet feeling? In a way?

I’m not really good at explaining my intention ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

I love Yuuji’s answer to Nanami's question.

AND FINALLY.

A Yuuji SandwichTM scene.

And oh B O I do I love it. Have I told you I like every chapter? I probably have. But this one? Satoru’s curiosity, Yuuji’s on-brand self-deprecation, and Gojou come strolling down to show more of Yuuji to his mini-self. I want to draw this whole scene, from Gojou finding them, feeding Yuuji snacks, bitch-slapping Satoru into the backroom, to Yuuji growling. Them trying to hide a boner from Yuuji’s growl got me cackling so hard I LOVE IT 😭

I love it all. Please love Yuuji in my stead, Satoru and Satonyan :3

Oh! Also! 40-finger Yuuji sounds really, really cool! I’ll be happy with whatever Vox will give us in future chapters, but 40-finger Yuuji… possible scene with this timeline’s Sukuna… my god. The action! The drama! The bloodshed! One can only hope.

However, as much as I love that whole scene, it’s still too much for me :”) I’m still not yet confident in delivering the humour and action. Also my already-long drawing plan had my brain groaning in protest so I can’t push my luck :'D

When Gojou said "He looks sweet, but he's a bit of a beast", I kept picturing Yuuji staring innocently, but there was an edge to his look. As if the moment Satoru looks away, he will pounce. But in the end I just stick with innocent-looking Yuuji because I accidentally drew his eyes that way and I want to keep it in lol

Since Satoru points out how soft and cuddly Yuuji is, I also want to draw soft Yuuji :v

And the last one… is the last scene. For some reason, I read that both Gojou and Satoru share Yuuji’s lap and was having a frustrating yet fun time figuring out how it’s… physically possible, without having their butts on the ground because they both are not small at all. As I lined the art, I reread it again and… perhaps I read it wrong? Satoru is beside Yuuji, and not on his lap? So yeah, this one might be the least accurate, but hey, at least you can view it as a crack drawing or something :v

AAAANNNDDD I HAVE EXCEEDED TODAY’S BRAIN CAPACITY OF FORMING WORDS

Have I told you I love this fic?

…I probably have.

Have an amazing week (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

#yuu's art #jjk-fic-fanart #jjk ship #jjk-ship #五悠 #goyuu #goyu #5u #gojou x yuuji #speedrun this bad boy of a project in 3 days #from planning #now I can sleep in peace

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atlasalexanderwrites · 1 year ago

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IMAGINE...being there with Arthur when he goes to Thomas Downes for his payment and interfering before things can go too far (preventing Arthur from catching TB)

WORD COUNT: 953

WARNING: none that I can think about, Arthur may be OOC some.

OTHER: reader is gender neutral; no gender specifics given to the reader so your choice!

A/N: the brain rot is real with RDR2 and with Arthur Morgan; I've been feeling icky for the last few days and the others in my house are all coming down with stuff so I needed a comfort character aka Mr. Morgan himself.

A/N2: I've been wanting to write an alternative to the scene where Arthur gets sick where...well...he DOESNT get sick. Originally, I attempted writing him as more low honor Arthur and then instead got this instead lol

A/N3: ENJOY!

“Arthur stop.”

“Arthur this has gone on long enough.”

“ARTHUR DAMMIT!”

Your weren't overly, physically strong by any means, but your partner wasn't in his right mind and was swinging blindly at the poor, frail man he had pinned to the ground. Arthur wasn't thinking clear enough that you were able to knock him to the ground and off of the man who immediately rolled to the side and started coughing, blood splattering all over the ground.

You held a hand to Arthur's chest, praying like hell he had the sense not to start swinging on you as well. “Mr. Downes, I am so sorry about this. I…it seems the heat has gotten to my partner. Is there somewhere that we can speak, calmly and peacefully?” The man had been upset the entire time you and Arthur had been there. Whatever reasons he had for borrowing from Strauss, you knew that you and Arthur didn't have even half of the story. And while you ran with the Van Der Linde gang, the last thing you enjoyed doing was swindling poor people who clearly were unable to repay the loan.

“Arthur, go clean your hands off. Now. And stay with the horses.” You demanded, openly glaring at him and silently warning him against arguing with you.

He grumbled and spat at the ground, but knew you well enough not to push his luck.

You waited for him to stomp off before turning back to the Downes family.

They were watching you with hesitation and distrust, which you couldn't blame them at all for, but you could also see something hidden just beneath the surface. Something akin to hope.

You sat with them for over an hour, listening to their troubles and how they had ended up this way. They truly were just misfortunate souls who had landed on bad times that seemed to only get worse.

Mr. Downes was sick. Really sick.

It had affected his ability to work as he once had. Taking aloan from Strauss had felt like the only thing to do at the time. Even if the man knew it was a bad idea.

“Get well, please. You won't hear from myself or my associates again.” You promised, biting back the raw anger building in your stomach for Leopold Strauss. What the hell had that man been thinking loaning to these people?

He's a fraud. Just like the rest of us in the Van Der Linde gang. Liars, cheats, and no-goods.

How could you have expected anything but this?

“Feeling better?” You asked Arthur, coldly, as you met back up with him at the horses.

“Oh don't start with me. What the hell was that back there? I nearly had the payment.”

“You nearly guaranteed your own death, Morgan, don't get an attitude with me. That man is sick, his family is struggling, have some…some compassion. This isnt you, Arthur. You're not a thoughtless, careless asshole who beats up the helpless.”

“Oh what the hell do you know about me?”

You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up into your horse's saddle, “I know you’re better than this. I know you're not meant to be the next Dutch. And I know that all of this eats away at you at night; whether you want to admit it or not.”

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Yeah well, you think you’re so smart, dontcha?”

“Smarter than you’re acting,” you grit your teeth and pulled at your horse’s reins to turn away from him, “Get your head out of your ass, Arthur, and stop trying to act so damn tough. The others might like you like this, but I don’t. And I can think of a few others who don’t either.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur was sitting atop his own horse now and rode up alongside you. He was still upset, but his tone was lower and more gruff than anything else, “I was handling things just fine back there.”

“Sure, Arthur.”

“I didn’t need you to step in.”

“I know that, Cowboy.”

“Will you stop answerin’ me like that?” A sigh slipped from your lips as Arthur’s hand suddenly reached across the small distance between the horses and wrapped around your wrist, keeping you from taking off and trying to force you to pay attention to him. “You’re still too soft on people, ya hear? He knew what he was getting into when he accepted Strauss’ loan.”

Meeting his gaze, you nodded and responded with, “Yes, he did, but people make mistakes, Arthur, and it shouldn’t be met with a stiff fist to the face. He’s ill, Strauss took advantage of that. Thomas Downes and so many more are simply trying to get by. Just as we are. It doesn’t matter now. The debt is settled, I’ll handle things with Strauss.”

It was easy enough to see the look of thought behind Arthur’s blue eyes, and you could tell he was thinking over everything that had happened and all you had said. Finally, he nodded stiffly and let go of your hand. “Alright then, Partner. I’ll follow your lead.”

“Really?” You questioned, brow raised.

Arthur shrugged, “Don’t sound so surprised. Don’t I always do as you say?” His tone had returned to a more teasing nature, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement.

“No, you don’t. If you did, we wouldn’t always end up in these situations.”

Humming, Arthur rubbed at his chin and asked, “Would you have me any other way?”

A laugh escaped your mouth before you could stop it and this time when you rolled your eyes it was out of fondness instead of irritation as before. “No, Arthur Morgan, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Hey! I hope you all enjoyed! If so please consider liking and reblogging! Thank you!

Please stay safe!

~ Atlex Writes

#imagine #imagines #reader insert #creative writing #fandom writing #fandom #red dead redemption 2 imagines #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction

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thesassypadawan · 1 year ago

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So Proud *part 2* (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: (Takes place during the filming of ROTS) You’re so proud of Hayden and you feel like words aren’t enough…that maybe you should show him instead. Hope you lovelies enjoy part 1 as well!

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s just a tiny bit of the smut. Oral (Hay receiving) and, as always…Hayden’s big dick.

Notes: A little something for @jediskywalkerblog! I really enjoyed writing this, made me feel all warm and spicy! Hope you like it! ❤️

- You’re so proud of Hayden! It’s not every day that someone so young is cast into a role so big. And here he was smiling, loving each minute he gets to play Anakin.

- Fortunately, you get to not only witness this magical time in his life. You also get to take part, helping him transform into the dashing jedi knight morning after morning.

- You know you tell him constantly how much you are. Which is almost always accompanied by his cheeks turning red and that shy little smile; so cute and yummy. But sometimes you feel that words aren’t enough…that maybe you should show him instead.

- It didn’t take long to figure out how you wanted to do so and an even shorter amount of time to get it all ready. So with a plan in place, you waited patiently for the perfect moment to come along. And that just so happens to be today.

- “All right, people, that’s a wrap! See you all on Monday! Enjoy your weekend off!”

- Wearing a huge grin, he comes jogging over to you. “Hey, angel! You miss me?”

- You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. “You know I’ve been here the whole time, Hay,” you giggle, swinging your legs.

- “I do,” he laughs. Reaching up to help you down from the crate you were perched on. The tall one he insisted you use, so you could ‘have a good view of everything’. More like so he could have a good view of you. “I just meant; did you miss spending time with me since lunch?”

- So sweet, so cheesy. Back on solid ground again, you rise up on your tip toes. “When you put it that way.” And place a tiny peck on his cheek. “Then yes, missed you.”

- You watch as that grin grows even bigger, making your heart melt. “Missed you too.”

- Wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close against his side. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Now come on. Let’s get me de-anakinized, so we can go enjoy our weekend together.”

- Doing the same yourself, you give him a playful bump with your hip. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

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

- Once you finally ‘de-anakinized’ Hayden, you two return to his trailer. Where he, much to his great dismay, is told that he’ll be showering alone.

- It takes everything in you to not cave in and join him. Especially when he gives you that sad, little pout. “But we always do after work.”

- Despite all of this though, you hold your ground. Because, dammit, you worked hard on this plan and you aren’t going to have it derailed now. “I promise to take an extra long one with you tomorrow.”

- Thankfully your counteroffer was enough. “Fine, but I’m holding you to it.” And when you hear the water turn on, you get to work.

- Fixing yourself up a bit, so you no longer look like too much of a hot mess. Tidying and straightening up the bed, because it was still destroyed from last night; opps. And, finally, slipping into a little something. Something that was black and lacey, and he was sure to love.

- Just as you’re finishing up, the bathroom door opens and out steps Hay. All in his wet hair and wearing only a towel around his waist glory.

- Seeing you, a sly smiles spreads across his face. “What’s all this for?”

- Placing a hand on his chest, you guide him back towards the bed. “To show how proud I am of you…all weekend long.”

- Casually you remove the towel, letting it drop to the floor. Before gently pushing him down onto the mattress. “All weekend, huh?”

- Straddling his waist; you lean forward, brushing your lips across his. “Yes, to show you how hardworking you are.”

- You press tender kisses along his jaw. “How you’re so passionate.” Making him shiver, an ‘angel’ falling sweetly from his lips.

- You nip at his neck, teeth barely grazing over his sensitive skin. “So driven.” Making him whimper all cutely, unconsciously tipping his head to the side.

- You glide your tongue across his collarbone. Then slowly trail down to his chest and further after that. Following the lines of his body, along the path of his happy trail. Taking your time to savor every last delicious inch of him. “So caring.” Making him shudder, goosebumps forming in your wake.

- You come to rest between his thighs. Kissing up and down his shaft, licking hungerly at his base. “So proud of you.” Making him let out a breathy moan, fingers tangling in your hair.

- You pause. Gazing up at him lovingly, you whisper. “Never forget that, Hay.” Before wrapping your lips around his drooling tip and sucking harshly. Making him throw back his head, a low hiss escapes him.

- You’re so proud of Hayden! You know you tell him how much constantly, but sometimes you feel that words aren’t enough…that maybe you should show him instead.

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maudie-duan · 1 month ago

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A/N: Hey guys! This chapter is kind of graphic in the sense that I wanted you to feel like "a fly on the wall" during Marlowe's day. I hope you guys enjoy it and have a lovely weekend!!

Tag List: Always Open

Changes Materalist<-

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: 18+, Language, Smut, Under Age Drinking, Eating Disorder, Body Dysmorphia, Mentions Of Pregnancy, Graphic Check-Up Scene, Mentions Of Abortion, Teen Angst, Emotions. (If I miss anything, let me know.)

I had every intention of going to school on Tuesday, but I panicked as soon as I woke up. I knew it was playing with fire to have unprotected sex with someone, but I did it anyway, and I knew the smart thing to do was to rush to Planned Parenthood and get the morning-after pill.

I know that emergency contraceptive isn’t a good form of birth control, but I had no intention of having sex with Trent after I got off the pill; I had no intention of having sex at all.

I thought I hated it all together and could go a lifetime without it, but then Harry happened. Every time I was around him, my fucking sound judgment went out the door, this whole other me slipping in like a piece of me got to be free, like I finally got to be free. There was nothing to live up to, no goals to meet, or a specific appearance to keep up with.

I know there are bigger things, but this was my life.

When I stepped into the waiting room after calling ahead, I sat there, peering around at the people coming in and out—at the woman trying to console her baby, at the girl who looked the same age as me, smiling over at me as she stood when the nurse called her name, her belly rounding past her small frame. It made my heart sink. Even though I didn’t know her story, she was walking back alone, and something about it felt lonely.

It was the heaviest dose of reality I needed—A hard hitter as I sat there alone, wondering if I should have been honest with Harry about everything and if I had, would he be sitting here next to me now?

There’s no better way to suck the fun out of a carefree moment than to slap it in the face with the truth.

And what about him? I had no clue what his sexual history was like; I mean, I didn’t need a specific number, but how many girls was he fucking with no condom? It seemed strange on both parts—why has neither one of us said a word, and is no condom such a regular thing for him that it doesn’t even cross his mind? Or is he just assuming that I’m on birth control since I’m not walking around with a baby on my hip after two years of sleeping with the same guy?

My mind kept returning back to the day I tossed those pills in the trash, making myself sick at the thought of ever getting pregnant because what would I do? Would they tell my parents? I never pictured a baby in my life; would I keep it? I’ve never been opposed to abortion, but could I follow through with it if the time came?

How would I tell Harry? Because without a doubt, it would be his—and then I’m whipping my phone out of my purse, scrolling back one month…a month and a half…almost two months since I had my period, and I thought my heart would fall straight through my ass.

Had it really been that long?

I sat there trying to wrack my brain, thinking, when was the last time? I can only remember buying tampons that week before I hooked up with Harry for the first time. I remember now because it was like a miracle from the universe that I had just gotten off my period, not even spotting, like my body was just getting back to normal.

Can Plan B fuck up your period? I honestly didn’t know anything about it. My sister just told me to take it in case of an emergency, and dammit, that was an emergency, just like now, and holy fuck, it is so hot in here, and that baby will not stop crying, and would it be okay if I cried? Would that be okay because suddenly I’m freaking out? I don’t want this responsibility; this doesn’t seem fair; why am I the one sitting here panicking, on the verge of spewing up my breakfast?

Should I text Harry, tell him what I’m doing, and hit him with the same menacing reality? Would he hate me? Would this be my fault for not speaking up sooner? Because I think this would ruin everything, and he is so good. I don’t want to let him go yet. Was this the moment I called my sister and told her she was right? That I should have waited to have sex because she was, in fact, right—it’s just as confusing as she tried to drill into my stubborn head before.

Marlowe Asher, the nurse, calls, breaking me from my prisoning thoughts; I drag my palms down my jeans, force a smile, and stand, trying to keep my tears at bay.

The nurse returns the smile, greeting me as I walk through the office door. “Hey there, I’m Hilary. I’ll be your nurse today,” she says, her friendly tone somewhat setting me at ease.

“Okay, we’re just going to get your weight,” she says, leading me to a scale, and I pull my purse over my head, planting my keys and purse in a chair close by.

“It looks like we have 115,” she says out loud, making my heart slam into my chest. The last time I weighed myself, I was 130lbs. I didn’t think I had lost that much weight.

I wasn’t even trying this time.

“Wow,” I breathe, stepping off the scale.

Hilary is writing on her clipboard, unbothered by my shock, “And how tall are you she asks, glancing up at me, “5’4,” I tell her, collecting my things and follow her to the exam room.

When I called ahead, I told them that I wanted to schedule a routine check-up and screen for any STDs. Before we even started, she handed me a plastic container with a lid. “So this is routine; we’ll need you to pee into this cup. We normally run a quick pregnancy test before we proceed with any forms of birth control if that’s what you end up choosing.”

I take the cup from her hand, familiar with their whole spiel because I’ve been here several times, and this always seemed like the easy part. Luckily, I had to pee, so I filled the cup, washed the outside of the container, then my hands, dried it off, and placed the cup in the assigned bin.

Hilary led me to exam room 8, and as soon as we stepped in, she had me sit for a few follow-up questions:

“So this is a list of questions we like to ask, you know, just to get a background on our patients. If at any time you feel uncomfortable and would not like to proceed with any further questions, please let me know, okay.” She says,

Easy enough, right?

“Okay, so we’ll start with the first question and move down the list, and it’s okay if you are unsure of any answer. They don’t need to be spot-on or super detailed. We just need a general idea.” She nods at me, eyes surveying my face, then looks down at her clipboard, the tip of her pen skimming down the page:

“When was your last period?

The first question seems the hardest because I know as soon as I say it, it’s going to sound bad, “I would say about a month and a half ago,” and Hilary peeks up then.

“Is that normal?”

“I’m not sure. It’s been kind of random lately.”

“About how long do they last?”

“I think the last one I had lasted almost a month. I just stopped taking my birth control.”

Do you ever bleed or spot between periods?

“Not lately.”

Do you have any other medical conditions?

“No.”

What medical problems do other members of your family have?

“None that I know of…”

Are you sexually active?

“Yes, recently,” I answer, my mouth going dry, and I swallow hard.

Have you ever had vaginal, anal, or oral sex?

“Yes, all three, but I’ve only done anal once.” and my heart is starting to race. I’m not sure if I needed to clarify that detail because now my face is beginning to burn.

What gender(s) of people do you have sex with, and what kinds of sex do you have?

“Umm…just males,” I tell her, then clear my throat, “And I think it’s just like normal sex…I’m not sure how to answer that.”

Is sex ever painful?

“With the current guy that I’m having sex with…it was more painful than before…I guess at first, but maybe that’s because it had been a while.” And Hilary must sense my nervousness because she looks up then.

“I think that can be normal, Hon. You’re doing great. Just a few more questions, and I’ll set everything up and let the doctor know you’re ready…Okay, so—” she starts again as I nod my head.

Do you bleed during or after sex?

“The first time I had sex, which I know can be normal, and the first time I had sex with my current guy…like after, I noticed it when I peed, but it didn’t last long.”

Are you using birth control?

“No.”

Do you think you might be pregnant?

“No, the last time I had unprotected sex with this current guy. I took Plan B, like that next morning. So maybe that’s why I haven’t started my period. Maybe it threw everything off..”

Do you want to get pregnant?

“Definitely not,” I tell her, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips.

“Perfect, and okay…last one,” Hilary says with a smile on her face:

What do you do to prevent STDs?

And I shake my head, pressing my feet to the ground. “I haven’t done anything with this current guy to prevent anything…”

Hilary is silent, jotting her last few notes, and my eyes shift to the ground, embarrassed that I’ve put so much faith in Harry, but if he does have an STD. Hopefully, it’s treatable, and moving forward, I will not be such an idiot. That’s what this is—One big scare to put me on the straight and narrow. I’ll get tested and get back on birth control, and all of this will be behind me, and I can move forward with my life.

Happy and free of any burden.

Hilary rushes around the room, laying a dressing gown on the exam table. Then, she finishes setting up the exam cart with the various items she collected for the exam. “Alright, so I put the gown on the table. You’ll just need to undress from the waist down. The doctor will knock before entering; you should be set from there. Do you have any questions?” she asks, reaching for the door handle.

“No, you were very informative. Thank you for your time,” I answer, trying to sit up straight like I’m not scared out of my fucking mind, hoping I’m not walking around with some kind of STD.

As Hilary exits, I peek at the clock on the wall. It’s 10:45 a.m., and I stand, unbuttoning my pants to prepare for the exam.

When 15 minutes pass, I don’t think too much of it. I saw that waiting room. There were a lot of patients waiting, and sometimes they were understaffed.

By 11:15 a.m., I lay back on the table, closing my eyes, trying to calm myself. I thought of everyone at school and how I should have just gone and put this off for another day. I was already dying to see Harry.

Just a glimpse would have been enough.

I pictured his eyes searching for me when he didn’t see me after my Biology Class, the one time a day that I got close enough to reach out and touch him, graze his arm, and no one would have a single thought. I couldn’t believe how amazing that weekend was. Aside from the emotional stuff, we seemed to hit it off, able to co-exist in one another’s company for days.

My first thought this morning was how strange it was, hanging with a guy, the most sleepovers I’ve had in a row. I had never stayed more than a night with Trent. I felt like a grown-up, wondering if this was what life would be like in college—and then a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” I say, sitting up. The doctor comes in, reading her chart, then glimpses up with a pleasant smile. She seems in good spirits, even though they’re obviously slammed, because when my eyes flick to the clock, it’s 11:32 a.m.

“Hello, Miss. Asher, I’m Dr. Cooper. How are you this morning?” she starts.

“I’m not bad. I just thought I would have a little check-up. Make sure everything is sound. I leave this summer for school, so I might as well tie up some loose ends.”

She smiles, “Well, I like that you are taking the initiative with something as important as your health—”

Another knock sounds on the door, and Dr. Cooper turns to grant their entrance; Hilary peeks her head in with a smile and then says, “I did get those results—” She conveys.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Cooper says, turning back to me. The lab was a little backed up this morning.” Then she stands to retrieve some paperwork while Hilary stands by reading over her shoulder.

Hilary doesn’t close the door behind her, so all the noise from the hallway is drifting in, a cold draft drifting over my bare legs hanging over the exam table, making me feel exposed, with only a thin paper gown covering my lower body.

The draft sends a chill up my spine, making my teeth clatter, and I clench my jaw and watch the two women. This time, Hilary reaches over Dr. Cooper’s shoulder, pointing to something on the page.

Hilary’s eyes dart to me, then back to the page, “I can stay—” she suggests, finally stepping back to close the door.

As soon as the door closes, my heart starts hammering in my chest, the loud thud, pounding in my eardrums, the chill turning into a noticeable shake as I wipe my cold, clammy hands over the paper gown, that continues to slip down, clinging to my hands, so I clutch them in front of me as Dr. Cooper pulls the rolling stool towards her, and takes a seat.

Hilary is standing behind her, hands clasped in front of her, sending me a faint smile when my eyes flit to her and then back to Dr. Cooper, and god, it is so cold in here because I can’t stop shaking—the shudder coursing through my torso, and I think I might be sick, I think that stomach bug is still lingering. I should open my mouth and tell them about it, but the way they’re looking at me now says otherwise.

Dr. Cooper clears her throat, and already my eyes are stinging with tears; then I shake my head, swallowing hard, and as soon as the tears spill over, she looks to Hilary. They don’t even exchange a word, and out of instinct, Hilary moves next to me.

“Is it okay if I put my arm around you?” she asks, and as soon as I look at her, my face crumbles. I am sitting here alone with two strangers who I know are about to tell me something that will change my life forever.

The wheels of Dr. Cooper’s chair sound as she rolls forward, the hard plastic effortlessly sliding across the shiny linoleum floor, concern etched between her brow, or is it pity?

I can’t tell.

“Miss Asher, Before we can proceed any further, I want to go over the results of your pregnancy test—” And I hear every word that she’s saying, but every couple of seconds, she becomes a blur, tears running down my face uncontrollably, dripping past my chin, and into the cleavage of my tank top, becoming an irritating soggy mess of tears pulling between my boobs.

The same tank top I questioned wearing because when did my boobs get this big? And so sore? How I wrote it off, thinking I was about to start my period, you know, like that’s why I’ve been so emotional, pre-menstrual precursors.

It’s all normal.

“So, I’m sure Hilary explained that we have to perform a routine pregnancy test, and looking at your results now—” And she scooches to the edge of her seat, handing me a piece of paper.”

My eyes skim the page until I find the word “results.” But I didn’t need the paper to figure it out; all she had to do was look at me. I didn’t say anything, mostly because I was in shock, but I didn’t think I knew what to say because I couldn’t even see the paper anymore. All I could see were the tears spilling onto the page, one by one, a foggy blur when a tear splats over the word “Positive,” and I shake my head.

Maybe I’m taking too long to reply because Dr. Cooper speaks up then, “Marlowe—” and she uses my first name now. “Do you understand what you’re reading?” And all I can muster is a faint whimper because my throat is aching, a knot so tight that it hurts to swallow.

I couldn’t look up; I just kept wiping my hand over the surface of the document, now creasing between my thighs—the once crisp paper rippling in small wet blotches across the page.

I am so fucking stupid.

I am so stupid and careless, and how could I be such an idiot? All I can think about is that damn Plan B pill, I took it, I took it, and then it’s spilling out of my mouth, “But I took Plan B,” announcing it like it’s going to change anything like the results aren’t exactly what they are.

“I took—I took it…right after, I swear,” promising because I feel like a fool like a child being coddled with Hilary’s arm around my shoulders; I thought that was the right thing to do.

“I thought I did the right thing—” I tell them, “I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I thought I fixed my mistake—”

And now I feel crazy because what was the point of that, “I’m not allowed to make mistakes—Oh, god—” I panic then.

“Are you going to tell my parents—?”

Dr. Cooper puts a hand on my knee to calm me down, but I can’t breathe; I can’t breathe when every breath is a sob stealing my breath, and I am all alone—I’m that girl in the waiting room, all alone, her big round belly holding her future.

“Marlowe, try and take a breath for me—” Dr. Cooper coos, trying to console me, “Everything will be okay…you have options, Honey.”

And I suck in a hard breath, peering down into Dr. Cooper’s deep blue eyes as sobs shudder through my chest, then I’m holding my breath, trying to calm myself down, and when I close my eyes, all I see is Harry’s face, and I hold onto that image—every touch, the kindness he gives so freely, and it seems to be working.

I draw a small breath through my nose, my chest quivering in the aftermath of the fading sobs, “By law, we are not allowed to tell your parents. Now that you’re eighteen, whatever you decide moving forward is entirely your choice.” Dr. Cooper explains.

“I want an abortion—” I tell her, no thought, just decision because that is absolutely my only choice.

“Yes, that is an option, but maybe we can go over the rest so that you have a clear perspective on your decision.” She explains, but I know the other options and don’t have time for anything else. We have three months left of school, prom, and graduation—I’m moving away this summer. I can’t stay in the place another year, being this person, this fucking people pleaser, because I’m so fucking tired—I’m exhausted, and I need something to hold onto, something to look forward to.

“I don’t need time to think—” I tell her, straightening my posture, attempting to clear the whine from my voice, “Can we do it today?” I push.

Hilary squeezes my shoulder, then steps away to start resetting the space. “Marlowe, why don’t you take a few days to think this through? This is a huge decision that could majorly impact your life.”

“I don’t have any other choice…everything is already planned—” I tell her, waving my arms around, “Like my whole future for the next four years—”

Dr. Cooper interjects, “Trust me, I understand that, and we will support anything you choose. But why don’t you go home, take a day or two, and make the appointment if you still feel certain about your decision?”

“Here’s the thing—” she says, “If your period was a month and a half ago, we still have plenty of time to make an adequate decision. Even if it feels like a rush, trust me, there’s not, okay? Whatever you choose, right now, you have plenty of time to make a sound, healthy choice. Listen—I’m a mother. If my daughter were sitting here today, I would hope someone gave her the option I’m giving you—”

She places her hand on my knee again, “I know whatever you’re feeling is extremely scary—” And the tears are back, blurring her face. “But don’t make the mistake of not thinking it through. It sounds like you made the smart decision to take Plan B, and for some odd reason, it didn’t work, and I’m sure that feels scary too, but in that moment, you made the right decision. Today, you made the right decision to come and take power over your choices in life. That was so brave and so smart, okay?”

And all I can do is nod because I just want my mommy, “And Marlowe, we have a great support team. We are here for whatever you need or have questions about, and Hilary will set you up with some helpful brochures that can guide you in making the best choice possible, it’s all entirely up to you, and whatever you choose. This is a safe, judgment-free zone. We’re here to support each other in one another’s choices—”

Hilary gives me a sympathetic smile, but I believe what Dr. Cooper is communicating, so I nod and draw in a deep breath, stretching my spine so that I can take in more air, “Do you have any questions?” she asks as Hilary handed over a few brochures.

“Nope…” I say, pushing out a deep breath, “Thank you for your time.”

Dr. Cooper pats my knee and stands, giving Hilary a slight nod. “Alrighty, Hon. Why don’t you go ahead and get dressed? If you have any questions before you leave, we’re happy to answer them. Go ahead and take your time; there’s no rush, Sweetie.”

As Hilary finishes resetting the room, I wonder if she’s ever been on the opposite side of her role, sitting in a spot similar to mine. Or was she smarter, always playing by the rules like I was supposed to??

I thought I did everything right before this, so why is this happening to me?

I didn’t take my time getting dressed; I shoved my legs through my jeans in a fury, pushing the stupid pamphlets to the bottom of my purse, forcing my foot into my boots, readying myself for the walk of shame, knowing I’d have to walk past all these people.

Would my face give it away? I was so thankful I didn’t wear make up this morning, could you imagine the mess?

As I stepped through the exam room door, I pulled my oversized flannel around my body. I walked at a pace that wouldn’t draw attention, trying to remember the route we took. I held my breath every time someone peered my way as heat rose to my cheeks, the shame almost unbearable. Was Hilary the kind of nurse to walk out of the exam room and gossip to the fellow nursing staff?

Keep your eyes forward was all I could think, walking down an empty hall, pushing my way through the door into the waiting room, don’t make eye contact with anyone—don’t focus on the baby crying, try and avoid the toddler running out in front of you on your way to the exit, oh shit, did this little fucking kid drop his toy in my path? Do I pick it up?

The toy rolls to my feet, and I bend down to retrieve it, “Here you go…,” and I crouch down, reaching out with the toy. His tiny fingers wrap around the toy hesitantly, his big green eyes so innocent. He grabs the toy and then runs back to his mom as my eyes follow. She sends me a gracious nod, rubbing a hand over her protruding belly. She looks tired, like she’s already spent all morning chasing that tiny kid around, and I smile, eyes dropping to her belly, a brief nod of recognition.

Then I’m out of the waiting room doors into the chill of the morning, the fog of my breath drifting past my vision, forcing myself with every step to keep it together long enough to make it to the car.

I went straight home, knowing my parents would be at work—well, at least my dad. My mom has a strict workout schedule throughout the week. Today was water aerobics, a class that she usually takes with my grandma, but I knew she wouldn’t miss a day, even if my grandma was out of town.

I run up the stairs, huffing and puffing as soon as I reach the landing, and bound to my room. I went straight for the trash can and fell to my knees, reaching for it, but the trash can was empty, and I fell to my butt. My heart beat thudding in my chest, a rapid whoosh filling my ears, vibrating out. My lungs ached with every breath that I took in, the realization hitting that my mom emptied my trash and yet another stupid move.

My eyes dart around the room, looking for any changes, then they land on my perfectly made bed, and there lies the empty Plan B packaging, waiting in a neat pile—waiting for me to stumble upon it because, of course, this is the one time my mom wants to be passive. Why didn’t she just call me? The gesture confuses me, but it’s the least of my concerns right now.

I pace over and swipe the empty box off the bed, flipping it around in my hands until I fumble across the date—Expired—the fucking pill was expired by two years. Had I really had it in my drawer that long? Does medicine really expire? I thought it was just a suggestion.

How many times can one person read and reread the same label? with the same expiration date—ignoring my phone buzzing in my back pocket because whoever is calling can wait?

Whoever it was had tried to call three times, and on the fourth attempt, I pulled my phone from my pocket and flipped it open. “What, Sienna?” I blurted into the phone.

“Jesus, Marlowe—Chill—” My sister snaps back, “What’s your deal?”

I exhale, pulling the phone away from my mouth, attempting to decompress the onset of rage filling my lungs. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I was in the middle of doing something, and you kept blowing my phone up.”

“I’m sorry—mom said you didn’t go to school today…”

“You talked to mom—?”

“Yeah, why? What’s going on? She said you’ve been distant lately—”

“I haven’t been distant—” I tell her, raising my voice, “I’ve just been house-sitting for grandma—”

“Marlowe—chill, dude, I’m not coming for you. I’m just checking in. I know I’ve been busy, but usually you call. Is everything okay?”

I roll my eyes, still on the defense, “I’ve been busy, too—” and I try and keep my voice calm, but I can hear how it’s still coming out, and I can’t control this mood swing; it’s like it’s taking over me.

“Okay…?” Sienna says, and I don’t respond because she’s the one calling me. If she has anything to ask, then she should just ask it.

“Lowe—” She nudges, of course using my nickname, the name she gave me since birth, when “Marlowe” was too hard for her three-year-old brain, and decided she hated it, and even though that’s changed, she’s never stopped calling me “Lowe.”

“Did mom tell you?” I ask flatly, clearing my throat.

“Of course, she told me, but why didn’t you tell me?” Even though I should probably have felt freaked out, a sense of calm washed over me because, at this point, the worst had already happened.

“She left the Plan B package on my bed…” I tell her, rolling my eyes.

She clicks her tongue, “Dammit, I told her not to do that. She thought it would be like an open invitation…in case you wanted to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about—plus that shit is passive as fuck. It makes me want to do the opposite, actually—”

Sienna’s laugh muffles into the phone, “I know! That’s what I told her…”

“She should have listened to you,” I admit.

“I mean—that’s what I’ve been telling you guys for years—”

“Shut up—Sienna, don’t be annoying…” And I roll my eyes again, falling back onto the bed.

“That isn’t all she told me…”

“Okay…” I say, pausing for her response.

She clears her throat, “That there was a weekend that you didn’t come home, like didn’t even call—which is strange, by the way…and she told me that you came home in a hurry—Mom said she heard you while cleaning the kitchen—anyway…she said you came home in Harry Styles hoodie…like the one you had that major crush on in Junior High—”

“I know who he is, Sienna—”

“I’m just clarifying for details because you haven’t breathed a word about him since then.”

I sigh, “I don’t tell you everything—”

“Bullshit—you haven’t even said anything, and I know you’re about to lie to me.” She starts.

“Was that the same weekend you took Plan B? Because that’s what mom thinks, and that seems plausible?”

I snap then, “What are you guys working together or something? What the fuck, Sienna, whose side are you on?”

“I’m on your side—but it’s hard to be on your side when you’re not talking to me.” She retorts, then goes silent.

“You guys always—”

“Don’t say always, Lowe, because you know that isn’t true.” she interrupts.

So, I sit there, trying to think of a way to rephrase the sentence, “I just feel like, most times…instead of just asking me…it seems like you go straight to each other, and I told you how that makes me feel.”

“I promise it wasn’t like that. I swear Mom only called because she was worried…we were not trying to gang up on you.”

I ponder her words for a moment, trying to decide what I should tell her, but instead of confessing to everything. I start projecting all my life problems onto her.

“Listen, Sienna, I’m sorry if Mom bothered you. I know how busy you get, okay? I know that you have a life outside of me; you’ve told me plenty of times—” I spit.

“Marlowe—”

“No—Seriously—I feel like it’s always going to come down to whether or not Marlowe is living up to Sienna’s potential…because heaven forbid, I step out of line for one fucking second—”

“Mar—”

“Seriously, Sienna—” I continue knowing that every word that falls from my mouth is just to hurt her, and I don’t know why I’m doing it because, really, I just want to confess to it all; because I know she wouldn’t judge me, she would have the perfect advice because she’s such a good person.

“Did mom get scared? Call you thinking—god Marlowes about to ruin it all, Sweetie, please make some time in your busy schedule to call your pathetic sister??”

“Was that it? Sienna, was I slipping? Was one of my million flaws showing because I’ll never be as perfect as you!” I yell, I fucking yell, and then everything around me goes silent, except for the sounds of the whooshing still pulsing through my ears.

Sienna’s sniffle fills the line, and I hate myself the second she opens her mouth, “Marlowe, one day—” She croaks out.

“I hope one day you see that all those years you thought I was outshining you—I was just trying to give you space to be you—you know, the opportunity to just be yourself, that all those years that mom and dad were riding my ass, you were the one that got to explore yourself, make the friends, go to the concerts, date the cute boy because you liked him. My whole life has been a show, Marlowe. Have you ever thought that maybe I wanted to be like you?

“I’m nothing—” I force, tears streaming.

“You’re everything—but what you just said hurt me, Lowe…”

“I didn’t mean it…” I cry out.

“I know—listen—I’m here for you always. I’m never too busy for you…I don’t know what’s going on, and clearly you don’t want to talk about it—”

“I just—” I try.

“No—Marlowe, it’s fine. I’m here, okay? And if you need me to come down this weekend, I can shift some things around. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sienna, I’m sorry.”

“Just call me, okay? I have to go—” Then she hangs up, and I crawl under my blankets and sleep until I open my eyes, and the room is dark, except for the glow of the moonlight, casting a shadow of the window frame across my bedroom floor, and then I roll back over, and closed my eyes.

The following day, I woke to an empty house and a note on the table. My mom telling me she was out running errands, which normally meant getting her hair or nails done.

When I checked my phone, I found two missed calls from Harry and a text message from him checking in on me since I had missed two days of school.

Want to take a guess at how many messages Trent sent.

ero.

I gathered some more clothes and drove to my grandma’s house, wanting to be totally alone and isolated from the world around me. I didn’t know how many hours I had just slept, but all my body wanted to do was sleep, so I crawled into my grandma’s bed and hugged her pillow—her scent still lingering in her bedroom, and I drifted off to sleep.

The doorbell woke me, and I slumped down the stairs. When I peeked through the side blinds, Skylar was standing on the porch waving when she spotted me, and I opened the door.

“Hey—what are you doing here…” I ask squinting my eyes, the world a little too bright.

She shrugs nonchalantly as if this was already boring her. I hate this side of her. Sometimes she can be extremely present, and others, she’s a self-absorbed drone, moving through the motions of our friendship, a lot like Trent.

“Just checking on you,” she says, looking around, “I forgot how cool your grandma’s house is…”

“Yeah—” I breathe.

When I push past her on my way to the kitchen, she follows. “I brought your homework…” she tells me, and I glance back, catching sight of the strap slung over her shoulder.

“That was nice of you…Thanks,” I say, forcing a generous smile, placating her a little. I feel like Skylar’s up to something, a weird twinge in my gut. Things have been off between us lately, so this feels a little off-putting.

“You want a soda?” I offer.

Skylar shakes her head ‘no’ then slings the bag onto the counter, “I’m shocked they’re still giving homework to be honest,”

“I mean—when you’re in all honor classes…it would make sense,” she combats with a laugh.

“I guess…” I agree, bringing the can to my mouth, eyeing her every movement. She seems nervous, barely making eye contact, and when she feels my gaze on her, she looks up.

“Why are you being weird?” she accuses.

I match her indifference, “I’m not—”

“Mmmm…” she hums, reaching for my can. Then she takes a drink. Actually, I changed my mind…” she laughs.

“I do want a drink.”

I raise a brow, “Take it, I’ll get another…” I say, rolling my eyes, and as I turn to the fridge, she says:

“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been acting really strange for the last couple of weeks…and you ditched my party—”

“I didn’t ditch your party—I was sick—” I lie.

“Marlowe, you were fine most of the night—”

“And then I wasn’t—” I voice, my tone sharp.

This shuts her down, her eyes moving to the label on the can, “And what about all the texts and calls? You haven’t been messaging me back…it’s just weird—”

“I told you I was sick over the weekend…”

Her voice raises, “It’s not just this weekend, Marlowe—”

“Look, Skylar…I don’t know what you want me to say…I could say the same for you…” And she shakes her head.

“That night of the party. I tried talking to you so many times, but you kept blowing me off, and then you and Trent were up each other’s ass…”

And her eyes whip to mine, “Oh come on, Marlowe, like I want to steal your boyfriend. If I wanted your boyfriend, then I could have had him—”

“I never said that…and what the fuck does that even mean?” My eyes roam her face then, taking in her stiff posture, searching for clues. My eyes dart to her throat as it contracts, a slow, shallow, her lips parting, and when I shift my gaze back to hers, she looks away.

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I know that you two are friends. I’m just saying I have tried talking to you…”

She shrugs her shoulders, visibly uncomfortable by this conversation. She keeps fidgeting with the can, scraping a fingernail over the cuticle of her thumb. I know her, and this is what she does when she’s nervous, “Okay—whatever—let’s just drop it—”

I pop the tab on the new can and bring it to my mouth, pulling my phone from my back pocket. Harry messaged again, asking if he could see me tonight, and I bit back my smile, sending him a quick text, telling him I’ll call once Skylar leaves.

When I glance back, Skylar is watching me, “Trent text you?” she questions.

“Yeah—” I mumble, shoving the phone back into my pocket.

“So things are good between you two?” She asks.

I shrug, “Yeah—I don’t know why anything would be wrong…” I tell her, fainting ignorance. Then she turns, looking out the window, and I glimpse a hickey on her neck. When she turns back, my eyes move back to her face as her hand comes up to her neck.

“You never told me you were hooking up with someone…” I pry.

She smiles then, “I don’t know…It’s nothing serious…just like casual. He’s kind of preoccupied…” and I arch an eyebrow.

“Plus—He doesn’t go here—” she quickly adds.

“So you mean he has a girlfriend?” I push.

Skylar rolls her eyes, “Not everything is so black and white, Marlowe.”

I just stare at her because she has a point, I’m in a messy enough situation; I have no room to cast judgement.

“Anything good happening at school?” I ask, trying to find some commonality because this conversation feels like pulling at teeth.

She lights up then, “Oh—! Yeah—dude—yesterday, Harry Styles came to school with the biggest hickey on his neck….and now everyone is trying to figure out who the mystery girl is…like no girl is coming forward—”

“Hickey’s must be a trend…” I say, scowling, thinking about the hickey on Trent’s neck, the one he claims is a “rash.”

I call bullshit.

“I guess…” she says, checking her phone and smiling.

“Harry’s probably seeing some girl from another school…” I tell her, but she’s typing away on her phone, not acknowledging a word I’m saying.

“What did you say?” she finally asks.

“Nothing—”

“Hey, I have to jet. I was just dropping by to give you your homework,” she explains, grabbing the empty bag and leaving her can on the counter in her wake. She must be in a hurry and she’s out the door before I can even open it for her, and I watch her get into her car, peering down at her phone grinning, then I shut the door and call Harry.

I know this is how I got myself into this mess, but as soon as Harry walked in, my worries went out the door, if only for a short while, long enough for me to grab his hand and lead him to the guestroom, and that’s how easy it was to forget everything.

How easy it was to take off my clothes and get into bed with him, to feed on his carefree energy as his playful hands groped my body. When he pushed his way inside of me and whispered, “I missed you,” I closed my eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, while he pressed his mouth to mine, kissing my cheek, my nose—A kiss on the neck, kissing everywhere his mouth decided to roam.

And when I came, he came with me, that easy because now it didn’t matter, now he could come inside me every day until I rid myself of this leech sucking away at my life; because this would all be over soon enough. Everyone will go their separate ways, and I’ll never have to see any of these people again.

I didn’t have to tell Harry anything because why burden him with this? He deserves to be happy; he deserves to be as happy as he makes me, and I can do this. I don’t need to burden anyone with this, not Harry, not my sister, definitely not my mom because I don’t think she could handle this. A pregnancy would be too much for her.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks, stroking my cheek with his thumb, my head on his chest.

“I don’t know—everything…” I answer.

He laughs, “Everything?” and the rasp of his voice echoes through his chest, and I press my ear against him, listening to the rhythm of his slow breath.

“Yeah—everything—” I tell him, closing my eyes because the sound of his heartbeat is lulling me to sleep, and he lightly pinches my cheek.

“Don’t go to sleep yet…I haven’t got to see you in two days…”

I laugh then, “Two days, Harry?”

“Yeah, two school days,” he clarifies, and his chest rattles with laughter, and I lift my head.

“My mom told me to go to the doctor—” And I sit up, crossing my legs in front of me, still facing him.

Harry traces a line across my calf, “And how was that?”

“I don’t know—” I shrug, “Exactly what it is. A stomach bug.”

He looks at me then, “Luckily, it hasn’t hit me…”

“You are very lucky—trust me…” I tell him, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

“Hey—” he says, pushing himself up on the bed, “Can we talk? I just thought we haven’t really talked about anything—”

And my heart drops then, “Like what?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“Like—I don’t know—” and he scratches at the back of his head, a nervous grin spreading across his face.

“I don’t—I’ve been like thinking about it, and I just wanted you to know that you’re like…the only girl I’ve ever, like, not used a condom with.”

My eyes dart to his, “Really?”

“Yeah…I promise, and maybe it’s shitty, but I figured Trent was the only guy you’ve slept with?” he says, but it rings like a question.

I smile then, “Well, Trent, and now you…”

“And you’re like on Birth Control?” he asks, nerves creasing at the brow, but all I can do is stare at him.

“Marlowe?”

“Harry—I lied to you—” I blurt.

“When? I’ve never asked you…” he straightens in the bed, all ears now.

“Today—just now—I lied?”

He laughs, “About which part? Who you’ve slept with? Marlowe, I don’t care—”

“No—about the doctor’s appointment—” Then his face falls.

The lines between his brow deepen, “What about it?”

“I really went to Planned Parenthood…”

“You did? by yourself?” He asks, reaching over to grip my leg. I draw a deep breath through my nose, trying to get it all off my chest before the tears start coming because my throat is already growing tight, and the worry growing on his face is scaring me.

“I think I need to start from the beginning, and if you hate me after all of this, I’ll understand—I just—

“It’s okay…take your time…” he says, leaning down to look into my eyes, and I nod my head.

“Before we had sex—I guess you should know that I stopped having sex with Trent, and since I wasn’t having sex with Trent anymore, I stopped taking my birth control…”

Harry nods, swallowing hard, but lets me continue, “I just want to be clear that the first time we hooked up, that was not my intention—”

“I know—” He tells me, and he squeezes my leg to resume.

“That day when you dropped me off at home. I ran straight to my room and took the Plan B pill that I stashed away for emergencies because that was definitely an emergency…

And Harry nods his head up and down, the muscles along his jaw tightening, “I took the pill, everything was cool. I didn’t think anything, then I saw you at the party—”

“Marlowe—I know that part—” he says, impatience tugging at his tone.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—” I tell him taking his change in demeanor like a scolding, feeling the emotions simmering at the surface.

“No—Lowe—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” He apologizes, cupping my cheek.

“Why did you call me Lowe?”

He shrugs, a shy smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “I don’t know…it’s how I saved your contact in my phone…I just thought it was cute.”

I smile, “Only my sister calls me that��”

“Do you want me to change it?” He asks lowly, his voice like a warm hug.

“No…” I whimper out because I was such a bitch to my sister earlier, and all of this is a fucking mess, and he is so kind and sweet, and now our time is over, and I’ll never have this with him again.

“Hey…don’t cry okay…I’m not mad, I’m just nervous—because I think I know what your about to tell me.” I bit down on my lower lip and nodded my head.

“Are you pregnant?” And I nod my head again as the tears cascade.

Harry blows out a shakey breath, tears filling his eyes. “I bet that was scary, huh?” he says, forcing himself to blink away the tears.

“Yeah—” I whisper.

“I’m sorry that you had to do that alone…” And everything he says is so genuine, and it hurts even more to watch him try to keep it together for me.

“Listen, I need to take a little walk—” he says, rubbing his palms over his eyes. I just need to clear my head…I promise I’ll be back. I just need a little air.” He tells me, pressing a long kiss to my forehead. Then he stretches past me, dragging the sheets with him.

I don’t turn around.

Shame is roaring its ugly head, and I don’t think I could look at him. I don’t want to see the pitiful look in his eyes when he no longer sees me the same or feels the same feelings as before—See the look on his face when reality sets in and everything changes—

where we change from who we are in this very moment because it’s inevitable.

“Lowe?” he calls from the doorway, but I don’t turn to face him.

“I’ll be back okay—?” and I nod my head, listening as he lingers in the doorway. Then the door clicks shut as darkness engulfs me, and I press my head into the pillow and close my eyes because as soon as I open my eyes again, everything will change.

A/N: Okay...so that's happened...now what?

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