#and he started drawing like how *he* wanted. not just how he felt he needed to draw. and he kept his drawings messy and unpolished and

[leo-in-the-pitt]

What's Next

This is Chapter 4 of the Beginning to End series !

Summary: You just started as a night shift attending but, one choice made the night you and Jack got engaged may change everything you had planned. But for better or worse?

Warnings: Pure fluff, pregnancy, 10k words of Jack being the sweetest man on the planet

WC 10.1k

What's Next

“I think we need to go buy some tests.”

Jack froze like a deer in headlights. “Shit.” His eyes widening as his jaw practically fell to the floor at the weight of your words. “No, we’re in a hospital, you can just get blood work done, it’s more accurate.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, your heart pounding hard against your ribs. “Jack, no. I love everyone here but, no. I don’t need any of them drawing my blood right now.”

“Let me do it.”

You blinked hard at him “Jack, what?”

“Let me draw your labs. I’m not waiting for you to pee on some stick when I can do this right now and get an answer. Right here, right now.”

You shook your head, already stepping towards the bathroom door. “No, Jack. No, no, no, no.” You tried to leave, but before you get around him, he moved fast, slipping in front of you and gently placing his hands on your arms to stop you.

“Hey, come on. I know you’re scared but so am I, okay? But if we do this now we’ll know we were getting ourselves into sooner rather than later.”

Felt as though there was a lump in your throat. You could feel his pulse through his fingertips where he touched your arms, grounding you in a moment that didn’t feel real. The light of the hospital bathroom buzzed faintly overhead, and the muffled sounds of monitors and voices outside the door reminded you where you were—and who you were trying not to be right now.

“You can’t just walk my blood over to the lab Jack.”, you said quietly. “Basically all of this hospital knows that we’re engaged, I don’t need them knowing that you got me pregnant too.” 

Jack’s mouth twitched into something between a wince and a smirk. “Look, we’ve been together for over 2 years, obviously we’re having sex. That’s not going to be much of a surprise to anybody.”

“Okay yeah but, maybe I don’t want to know if I’m pregnant or not.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean you don’t want to know? If you’re pregnant, we have much bigger conversations and decisions that have to happen. And soon.”

“Jack, I don’t want to pee on some stick or get my blood drawn or — “ You took a deep breath. “anything. Please, just give me a second to process the fact that I might be pregnant right now. I could be growing your child right now and I don’t know how to feel about that yet.”

“Look, no matter what happens, you know that I’ll be right by your side right?” He tilted his head down he get a better look at you.

“I know Jack. I know. We should probably get out of here.” you said, glancing toward the door. “Before someone comes knocking.”

Like a cue from the universe itself. A knock on the door.

“Shit.” You whispered. “What do we do?”

The door handle jiggled.

“One second!” Jack yelled, just as you shouted, “In here!”

“Oh my fucking god Jack. They’re going to think we’re having sex in here or something!”

“Okay look you leave first, then I’’ll leave.”

“That’s worse,” you hissed. “Like you were tucking it back into your pants or something. We should just leave together. We’ve been in here too long already.”

Without waiting for his reply, you pulled the door open and walked out, your face burning as the hallway came into view. Too many eyes turned toward you. Nurses at the desk, a resident walking passed, even one of the janitors paused mid-mop. Your chest tightened. The hallway a spotlight.

Jack followed close behind. You could feel his presence at your back, steady and maybe a little sheepish.

Standing right outside the door was Dana.

“God I thought I was going to piss myself. Take it home next time kids.” She said jokingly. 

Jack immediately lifted both palms like he was surrendering to the police. “My pants were on the whole time, I swear.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Jack, really?” You didn’t wait for a response. Just shook your head and walked away, almost breaking into a run.

Behind you, you could feel Dana and Jack exchanging awkward glances. 

“You guys doing alright?” Dana asked softly, her usual teasing tone gone.

Jack’s voice was barely audible. “Um, ye—yeah. I think so. Ha—have a good shift, Dana.”

Moments later, you heard his footsteps speeding up behind you as he jogged to catch up.

You didn’t speak right away. Just kept walking, staring straight ahead, feeling everyone’s eyes start to drift back to their own work. Eventually.

Jack fell into step beside you, close enough that your arms brushed.

Neither of you said anything for a while. But in the quiet, in the closeness, something else passed between you.

A storm was coming. But at least, for now, you weren’t facing it alone.

“Can we just go please?” You practically begged him.

“Yeah come on.” He put his arm around you as you both walked to the car in silence. 

The car radio the only sound filling the space between you two. 

He missed the turn to the apartment.

“Jack, where are we going?” You shifted in your seat.

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Thought you wanted to buy some tests? You don’t have to take them yet but, at least the option will be there whenever you decide you’re ready. Okay?”

“That’s fine…” you slumped back down. 

The drive felt eternal. Each streetlight turned red like it knew you needed more time. The silence between you grew heavier with every block, like gravity itself was trying to pull the truth closer.

Eventually, he pulled into the quiet parking lot of a 24-hour pharmacy. It was only 8am. You both go in slowly, not speaking, the air thick with the weight of what you might be walking toward.

Inside, the store was nearly empty. A single bored cashier scrolled on her phone behind the counter.

In a quiet corner, beneath flickering fluorescent lights, the two of you stood in front of a wall of pregnancy tests. So many options. Pink ones. Blue ones. Some boasting "99% accuracy." Others promising results "6 days before your missed period."

Your fingers were threaded together, but your palms were damp. The silence between you wasn’t comfortable anymore—it was stretched thin.

“Which ones are the most accurate?” you murmured, scanning the shelves with narrowed eyes.

“How am I supposed to know?” He was clearly overwhelmed.

“You’re the doctor here.” You snapped back at him.

“You’re also a doctor…” He sighed heavily.

“I don’t know. I don’t do this all the time Jack.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Neither do I.”

“Let’s just get the digital one. I don’t want to have to argue about if we see one or two lines.”

“God. What if it’s positive?” You felt your eyes begin to water. 

Jack didn’t answer right away. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before gently resting his hand on your back. “Then we’ll figure it out babygirl. It’s sooner than we wanted, but—we’ll be okay.”

Your eyes flicked across the shelves again, avoiding his gaze. “We said we’d wait. We had a plan. Get married. Buy a house. Travel. Maybe in two, three years. This wasn’t supposed to happen now Jack.” You turned your head slowly toward him. He was already looking at you, his eyes filled with something warm and gentle. The tears spilled over despite your best effort.

“Plans change all the time.”

“How are you not scared?”

He smiled faintly. “Not scared? Babygirl, I’m terrified. But not at the possibility of becoming a dad. Not about starting a family with you. I’m scared of you feeling like I’m dragging you into something you’re not ready for.”

“You’re not.” You whispered. “Jack, you’re the only part I’m sure of.”

He put his arm around you. You lean into him and reached for the box on the shelf. “Maybe we should just buy a couple?” you murmured, lifting 2 more boxes. “Just to be sure?”

Your steps were slow, deliberate, as if the ground beneath you had suddenly become fragile.

The cashier didn’t look up from her phone until you placed the boxes on the counter. Her eyes flicked between you and Jack, then down at the pregnancy tests, then back again. 

She didn’t say a word—just scanned them and bagged them with a blank expression that somehow felt merciful.

Back in the car, you sat in silence again. The bag sat in your lap like it might explode. Jack kept his eyes on the windshield, hands resting on the steering wheel even though the car was in park.

“So,” he said gently, “do you want to do this now or wait a little longer?”

You leaned your head back against the seat, closing your eyes and took a deep breath. 

“I just need a little more time,” you said quietly. “Just one more day. To breathe. To pretend nothing’s different. Like nothing’s going to change.”

There was a long pause, the kind that says more than silence usually can.

“Okay,” he said finally. “One more day. But whatever that test says—I'm not going anywhere. No matter what you want to do. We'll face it together. Always. Until the end.”

You turned to look at him. He was already watching you.

And for the first time that morning, your breath didn’t feel so heavy. You didn’t feel alone.

————————————————————

The Next Morning

The apartment was still, silent in that fragile way it only ever was before the day truly began. Outside, the clouds had settled low and heavy, casting a soft gray hue through the blinds. Rain tapped gently on the windows around you.

Jack had gone out not long ago to get breakfast, coffee—something to do to distract himself from the possibility of you both becoming parents. You hadn’t told him yet that you were ready. Not really. But the moment the door clicked shut behind him, the stillness had grown too loud, the questions too sharp.

The unopened pregnancy tests sat in front of you on the coffee table, They stared back at you, innocent and terrifying all at once.

You couldn’t sit still.

You were pacing the living room now, arms folded, bare feet quiet against the floorboards, eyes flicking to the window every few seconds. 

When you finally saw Jack’s car pull into the lot, your heart skipped a beat. He moved through the rain, hoodie already soaked, carrying a brown bag in one hand, the coffee tray in the other. The normalcy of it almost broke you.

The door creaked open, and there he was—dripping rainwater and bringing in the smell of fresh coffee. He kicked off his shoes and set everything down on the kitchen counter, glancing up at you with a soft smile.

You were standing still again, but everything in you was moving around you.

“Breakfast has arrived,” He looked into your eyes. He knew something was coming. “What happened?”

You swallowed hard. “I took them, Jack. The tests.”

His whole posture changed. “Wait, when? What’d they say?”

“I don’t know yet,” you said, quickly, almost breathless. “I took them maybe 20 seconds before you walked in. I just,I couldn’t wait. I didn’t want to sit here thinking about it anymore. I needed to know. I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you.”

He stepped closer, water still dripping from the hem of his sleeves. “No, no, it’s okay. I didn’t need to see you pee on a stick. I mean, I’m glad you did it. How long do they take? Three minutes, right?”

“Probably like a minute left.” You stood facing him, the air thick with tension. 

“One more minute,” he whispered.

Your eyes glistened, tears not yet fallen, and in that moment, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you. Your body folded into his, cheek pressed to his chest, and his hand found the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair.

“We’ll be okay, babygirl,” he murmured. His voice was steady, but his heartbeat was the opposite. It pounded against your ear. 

You didn’t think about the rain anymore. You didn’t think about breakfast. The outside world, gone in an instant.

Thirty seconds.

He kissed the top of your head.

Twenty.

You closed your eyes, grounding yourself in the way he smelled—like rain and shampoo from his morning shower.

Ten.

You pulled back slowly. His arms stayed around you. “Should we go look?”

He nodded, taking a breath that sounded more like a gulp. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t let go of your hand.

Together, you walked through the apartment, slow steps across the cold wood floor. Each one felt like it carried the weight of an entire future. 

The morning light had shifted slightly—gold now, warmer, filling the tiny bathroom. The test sat there, small and silent, the screen face-up.

Neither of you looked at it yet. You were still watching each other.

“Okay,” you said, voice soft, shakey. “Let’s look at the same time.”

He nodded, breath unsteady. “Three… two… one.”

Your eyes dropped to the test together.

Pregnant.

You didn’t breathe. Felt as if your heart stopped in that moment.

Jack stared at it, unmoving, then slowly looked back at you. His face was pure shock.

“I think we’re gonna have a baby,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. 

His eyes glued to the test. Not blinking.

“Jack…”

He looked up at you. Down at the test again. Then back up to you. “Are you- are you sure? Should we maybe take another one? Just to be sure? Don’t we have two more tests?”

“I already did,” you said, reaching out with a shaky hand to lift the box from the counter, taking out the other tests, reading them carefully. “I took all of them. They all say the same thing. Pregnant.”

His mouth parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. And then, the corners of his lips curled upwards while his eyes lightened. “We’re gonna have a baby…I’m gonna be a dad?”

A slight laugh came out of you. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

He stepped forward and pulled you into him, lifting you off the floor just enough to spin you once in the tiny space. You laughed again, a real one this time, your tears began to fall onto his shoulders. He set you down gently, holding your face in his hands, kissing your lips.

“You’re gonna be a mom,” he whispered. “And you’re gonna be so amazing at it.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed and in love and terrified and full of something so much bigger than all of it. “We didn’t plan this,” you said. 

“I know,” he said. “But plans change sometimes, and that’s okay.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “I’m scared,” you admitted.

“So am I,” he said. “But I’m more sure of you than I’ve ever been about anything.”

And with that, the storm outside faded to background noise.

And somehow, it felt like exactly where you were meant to be.

———————————————————— 

You both left the bathroom. The three tests still sitting on the bathroom counter. 

The word sat between you like a fragile truth: Pregnant.

Jack held your hand as you walked back into the kitchen.

“I keep thinking I should be saying something,” he said softly, voice catching in his throat. “Something comforting. But all I can think about is how everything going to be changed.”

“It doesn’t feel real yet,” you whispered.

“I know.”

You stepped back against the kitchen counter. Head down, eyes staring at the tiled below. 

“What do we do now?” you asked, your voice quieter than before, almost like you were afraid of the answer.

Jack didn’t speak for a moment. He just looked at you—the woman he was going to marry, the love of his life, now maybe the mother of his child. 

“We eat breakfast,” he said finally, with a softness that made your chest ache. “And the we talk. We figure out the next step. One step at a time.”

“That’s your plan?”

“That’s the only one I’ve got right now, because if I start trying to plan out the next nine months, or twenty years, you’ll be taking me back to the ER.”

You exhaled, laughing through the tears. “Okay. Breakfast.”

“Come on. You’ve got a baby to feed now.”

The rain was still tapping lightly on the windows. Jack opened the brown bag, unwrapped a breakfast sandwich, setting it gently in front of you.

“Let’s go to the couch.”

You sat together on the couch, side by side. The world around you still at a stop. 

Jack turned toward you, his arm resting along the back of the couch. “Are you okay?”

You chewed slowly, nodded once, then looked at him. “I think I will be. I’m still scared. I don’t think that’s going to go away for the rest of my life now. But I know I’m not alone.” You smiled softly at him. 

“Never,” he said. “You’ll never be alone in this. Or anything for that matter.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder. For a few minutes, you just sat there in silence, the rain against the window the only sound.

And then, quietly you murmured, “I don’t even know where to start Jack.”

Jack’s hand found yours again, squeezing gently.

“Look, we just need to talk. About everything. And anything. You can’t shut me out. Tell me what you need, when you need it. You’re carrying my child now. Whatever you need, I’m there. I just need to know what’s going on in that head of yours. Okay?”

You nodded gently. Your hand lightly on your stomach—instinctively, like it was already a habit.

His eyes followed the movement, and he reached over to rest his hand gently over yours.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice quiet but steady. “Do you think maybe this is what was supposed to happen? I mean nothing we ever planned went our way. Maybe this is  just what the universe has planned next for us.”

You looked at him for a long time. Saying nothing while thinking everything.

“Maybe,” you whispered. “Maybe this was exactly how the rest of our lives was meant to begin.”

———————————————————— 

Business as Usual

A baby wasn’t going to stop you from going to work. Not even Jack breathing down your neck any chance he got. 

He watched you like a hawk ever since you saw that one little word of the test a week ago. 

“Hey babygirl, how are you guys doing?”

You looked to the left and right, ensuring no one was close enough to hear the words that just came out of his mouth. “Jack I told you to stop saying that. Someone is going to hear you.”

“Sorry, just a habit already I guess. You excited for later?”

Your first OB appointment. Jack pulled some strings. Afterall, he has gained some respect since delivering multiple babies himself in the ED. One call, and you had a visit with the best attending OB in the hospital. 

“Nervous, excited. Everything really. Mostly want to know how far along I am. Want to know which time it was.”

Jack gave you that half-smirk he always did when he was trying not to look too proud of himself. 

“Well, you’ll know soon. He is the best OB around. He’s calm under pressure and blunt as hell. You’ll like him.”

“Well let’s hope he can keep a secret. You’ve been ready to tell everybody and anybody all week. 

Jack raised both hands. “I’m just excited. Sue me.”

You paused, the soft echo of nurse chatter coming closer to you two. You could feel the weight of the night dragging—the long hours, the fake smiles, the secret growing inside of you.

“Just keep it cool, okay?” you said, your voice quieter now. “I haven’t wrapped my own head around it.”

Jack’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do this alone. Whatever happens today, I’ve got you.”

That stopped you.

You turned to look at him. Really look.

“I know,” you said. 

The office was on the other side of the hospital. You two would need to find a way to sneak upstairs without anybody seeing which direction you had gone. And day shift was a lot busier than your regular nights.

“Just pretend you’re going to the bathroom in the corner. I’ll sneak over there to get you and we’ll go through the back.”

“Not going to work but, fine.”

You left first, avoiding anybody at all cost. He soon followed without stopping to talk to anybody. But Jack didn’t need to open his mouth to be seen. 

“Where are those two going?” Langdon nodded over to Dana across the nurses station. 

“No idea. Been acting weird all week since I caught them in the bathroom together.” 

“That’s what the on call rooms are for.” Dana shot him a side eye that could be felt throughout the entire ER. “Or so I’ve heard.”

————————————————————

First Appointment 

The walk to the OB floor felt longer than usual. Jack stood beside you, unusually quiet, hands stuffed in his pockets. Maybe he finally sensed how real this was starting to feel.

You glanced up at him. “You know we’re going to have to do this a lot right?”

He scoffed. “Good, I’ve gotta get my steps in. Besides, I’ve seen enough ultrasounds—I want to know if I’ve still got the eye for it.”

“Jack,” you warned, giving him a sideways glare.

“What? I’m just saying.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Soft pastel prints of sleepy newborns lined the walls. 

You wrapped your arms across your stomach, unsure if you were protecting something or hiding it.

At the front desk, the nurse glanced between you and Jack when he gave your name.

“He’s with me,” you said quickly. She didn’t ask questions.

A few minutes later, you were in an exam room. Cold paper crinkling beneath you. The hum of a fetal monitor you weren't sure would pick anything up yet.

The nurse comes in, takes your vitals, and then leaves. You both sit quietly for a few minutes until the doctor enters.

“Wait, it’s a HIPAA violation for them to say that they saw us up here right?” 

“Yeah of course, just calm down nobody saw us. And even if they did, let them talk. This is between us for now and it’s going to stay that way until we decide otherwise.”

Then came the knock.

The doctor entered like he owned the hospital—smart blue eyes, white coat already half open, clipboard in hand. He looked up and smiled politely. 

“You must be the ED doc.”

Jack grinned. “Guilty.”

He raised an eyebrow. “He better not have promised anything I can’t deliver.”

You spoke for the first time in several minutes. “I just want to know what’s going on. How far I am. And that everything’s okay so far.”

His face softened. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do today.”

The screen came to life. Cold gel. Wand pressed just below your pelvis. Jacks hand never leaving yours. And then—There it was.

A flicker. A rhythm.

Jack leaned forward, lips parting like he wasn’t sure how to breathe. You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your own breath until it came out in a shaky laugh.

He pointed. “There’s the heartbeat. Measuring about…seven weeks. Everything looks good so far.” His eyes bounced around the screen.

You felt your eyes sting.

Seven weeks.

Jack whispered, “Holy shit…”

You didn’t say anything. Not yet.

But you squeezed his hand tight. 

“I told you...”

Jack lightly laughed. 

“Were we taking bets on how far along you are?” 

“Something like that.”

“Was there a special occasion 7 weeks ago if I may ask?”

You said nothing. Just held up your left hand to show your engagement ring.

“Ah. That’ll do it. Trust me your not the first, definitely won’t be the last. Everything’s right on track so far. Take as long as you need in here. They’ll schedule your next appointment up front.”

After the doctor leaves the room, Jack leans back in the chair, arms crossed, clearly trying to hide his pride.

"So, seven weeks, huh? You hear that?”

You said nothing just shook your head at him as you sat up straight. “All because you couldn’t control yourself.”

Jack let out a laugh for the whole office to hear. “Well you did technically tell me to put a baby inside of you that night. Not like we’ve been doing anything to avoid this anyway.”

“I didn’t think it would actually happen though. Jack you literally finished inside of me once and now I’m going to have to push a baby out of me.”

“What can I say, I’ve got strong swimmers. You’re officially on the clock though.”

"It’s real now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it’s real. And I have to say, I’m glad I didn’t mess that one up." He grins, trying to lighten the moment.

You smile at him, but there's something deeper in your gaze. “You’ve been a mess this week. But I’m glad you’re here."

His smile fades slightly as he meets your eyes. “You know, I’m not going anywhere, right?

"I know." You reach out, giving his hand a small squeeze. “You've made that pretty clear." You said as you looked down at your ring.

You started the walk back out. Once the elevator doors shut, he turned to you.

"So, what’s the next step? Do I need to start buying baby stuff yet?"

"Maybe wait until we get past the first trimester? But you’re right, we should probably start thinking about it. I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, you’ve got the doctor on speed dial now. And I started looking where to buy a crib.”

Rolling your eyes, “Of course you did.”

Back at the apartment, a familiar sense of calm falls over you as the door clicks shut behind you.

"I’m still trying to process everything."

He follows you in, kicking off his shoes and rubbing his face.

"Same here. You know, I’ve seen so many ultrasounds, but that one—seeing it flicker like that—there’s something about it, right? Its different when it’s real."

Sitting down on the couch, your hands resting gently over your stomach.

"It’s like it’s not just a picture anymore. It’s a baby. Our baby. It feels like everything changed in an instant."

He sits beside you, glancing at your hand over your stomach, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You’re right. Everything is different now. And I’m not saying it’s all going to be easy, but I think we’re going to be okay."

"I think we’re already figuring it out."

"I’m in this with you. Whatever comes next—every moment of it—I’m here."

"You sure about that? You know this is going to get crazy, right?"

"I’ve seen the chaos in the ER. I’m sure. You’re going to be a great mom. And me? I’m going to be an even better dad."

“Jack, what about the wedding? We’re supposed to go look at venues next week but, I don’t know if I want a big wedding now.” You glance down at your stomach. “You know with the baby and all?”

“So we’ll do something smal, intimate. I’ll take you to the courthouse and marry you right now if you really want.”

“Maybe not that small.” You laughed. “Maybe a dozen of our closet friends. The most important people in our lives, the ones that brought us together.”

“You tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

——————————————————————— 

One Month Later

Making your way through the ER, trying to act normal. The usual chaos of the hospital surrounds you, but it feels quieter today. You catch Jack’s eye across the room, and he gives you a wink. You smile back, heart racing for a different reason now.

As he approaches you, his voice drops low. "You okay?"

You glance around, ensuring nobody's listening before giving a small nod. "Yeah, just tired. But I’m okay. It feels weird not saying anything yet."

"Yeah. But we’ve got time. We don’t have to rush. You’ll tell the world when you’re ready. Just one more week until the first trimester is over. And you can tell whoever you want to tell. You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you both."

Feeling the weight of his words, you step closer to him, allowing the brief moment of connection to ground you in the middle of the chaos.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"Probably lose your mind. Good thing I’m here to keep it together for you."

"Yeah. Good thing."

——————————————————————— 

13 Weeks Down 

You sit with a cup of coffee in your hands, feeling the weight of the decision you’ve been avoiding. It’s time. Jack's been saying you should do it, and now you know you can't hide it forever. The quiet hum of the lounge is filled with your thoughts as you look around at your coworkers.

He leans in, “So, you’re gonna do it, right?"

Raises an eyebrow at him, trying not to give away the nerves creeping up your spine. "You’re not making this any easier."

"You’re the one who wanted to wait. Now you’re just stalling."

Glances at the clock, taking a deep breath before standing up. Your hands are a little clammy, but you press on. You’re doing this. It's time.

You walk into the break room, where a few coworkers are hanging out, sipping on their drinks. Langdon, Dana, Mel all chatting. 

Langdon looks up from his phone as you enter. “There she is. How’s the baby-making project going?"

You freeze for a second, biting your lip. You can hear Jack’s voice in your head telling you not to hide anymore. You take a step forward, giving him a look before turning to the others.

“What’d you just say?”

“Well you guys were locked in the bathroom together a couple weeks ago. Figure that was the whole idea.” 

"Actually, that’s a - that’s what I wanted to talk about."

Pauses mid-bite, eyebrow raising as she studies you closely. “Are you serious right now? You’re pregnant?" Said Dana. 

You nod, a small, shaky laugh escaping you. "Yeah, I am. Thirteen weeks actually.” Your hand going up to rest on your stomach.

His eyes widen as a grin spreads across his face. “Well, hell. Congratulations kid! You know I’ve got all kinds of dad jokes ready to go for you." Langdon jumped out of his seat coming over to give you a hug.

Mel looks at you, her expression softening. "You’re really pregnant. Wow. You okay? That’s a lot to take in at work.”

Slightly chuckling, trying to hide the nerves. "Yeah, well, a little bit of a secret for the last couple of weeks. But I wanted to share it with all of you."

"Don’t worry, we won’t make it weird. Besides, I’ve seen the baby fever in the ER. It was only a matter of time before one of us jumped in."

Jack steps into the conversation, his usual cocky demeanor returning. “Hey, don’t act like you didn’t know. She’s been glowing. You know the signs. Not like we were trying but we also weren’t not trying, if you know what I mean.”

Dana tilts her head, eyes narrowing with a smile. “Huh surprised you kept quiet for this long Jack.”

Shrugs, hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t say a word.”

“Yeah except for saying “how are you guys doing?” when it was only her around.” 

“I told you you were too loud. But really thanks, you guys. It’s a lot, and yeah, it feels like everything is changing. But I’m glad you’re all supportive. I’m still figuring it out, but I wanted you to know."

“Alright so I can’t keep that a secret forever. So, what’s the plan? Are you telling anyone else yet?" Said Mel excitedly as she sat back down.

Glances around, your stomach flipping just slightly at the thought of telling the rest of the hospital. “Well we’re heading to Robby’s office next, just wanting to tell you all before anyone left for the night.” 

Jack leaned against the doorframe. “He’s gonna be mad he wasn’t first to find out.”

Langdon looking like he’s got an idea brewing in his head say, “Well, now that we know, when do we get the reveal party? You know we’re going to throw one, right?"

Laughs softly, shaking your head.

"Wait, what about the wedding?”

"Well we actually want to keep it small, maybe a dozen or so people. Probably soon actually. So maybe now’s a good time to pick out outfits.”

The walk over to Robby’s office was silent. Jack was taking the lead on this one. 

“Hey brother! You heading out of here soon?”

“Stupid bureaucratic bullshit to wrap up first.” He glanced up at you both. “Why do you both look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you saw a ghost.”

“Well, we’ve a- kind of have some news to tell you. Pretty big news actually.”

Robby looked over to you. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

You smiled. “How’d you know?”

He started to get up from behind the desk. “Been doing this long enough to tell. Come here you guys.”

He hugged you first. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

Then he turned to Jack, pulling him into a hug too.

“Brother, I’m happy for you. You deserve this. All of it.” With his hand on both of your shoulders, he said, “That kids lucky to have you both.” 

“Thanks man, means a whole lot coming from you.” 

“Not to ruin the mood but, the wedding?”

As you walk through the ER, feeling lighter, you catch Jack’s eye again. This time, there’s a quiet reassurance in his expression.

"So, how was that? You feel okay?”

Sighs, smiling softly. “Better than I thought actually. I was scared, but they’re all in. Just feel a lot better about everything now"

Leans in slightly, a knowing look on his face. “Told you. You’re never alone in this."

Smiling as you walk side-by-side. “I know that now.” 

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, the wedding. We’re thinking small. Couple close friends really.”

“Probably sometime soon,” you added. “Before everything gets too crazy.”

Robby smirked. “So you’re telling me you’re going to try and pull off a wedding and prepare for a baby? That’s some serious multitasking.”

“You act like we haven’t worked in this ER for years,” Jack shot back with a grin.

“Fair,” Robby said, raising his hands in surrender. “Just don’t expect me to wear a tux. I’m not sweating through one of those things in a park somewhere.”

You laughed. “Noted. No tux. You’ll be lucky if we even go as formal as khakis.”

Robby leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, still smiling. “I mean it, though—whatever you need, I’m here. Baby stuff, wedding stuff, moral support when the hormones kick in and Jack starts crying about everything little thing.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I don’t cry man.”

You nudged him playfully. “We’ll take all the help we can get.”

Robby pushed off the desk. “Then consider this my official offer to be whatever you need during the next couple months.”

Jack gave him a look then glanced over at you and took a deep breath. “We really do appreciate it, brother.”

As you two walked out of the office, finger intertwined, you turned to Jack. “What happened to asking him to officiate our wedding?”

“Next time.”

———————————————————————

Planning 

The next morning, the two of you sat on the couch, takeout containers scattered on the coffee table, your laptop balanced between you.

“So,” Jack said, stretching an arm behind your shoulders, “Do we want to get married before you start showing or after?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I won’t look as good with a baby bump?”

He smirked. “The opposite actually. People won’t be able to look away.”

You laughed, nudging him. “Nice save. I think before. I mean always wanted a fall wedding anyway and its the middle of October so why not do this as soon as we possibly can?”

He grinned. “Perfect timing. Fall leaves, crisp air, soft sweaters—you in a dress and me not sweating through a shirt for once.”

You chuckled. “I’m not making any promises about the weather.”

Jack clicked something on the screen. “Okay, so venue, you really want to ask Robby and Collin’s if we can use their backyard?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “She’s already got the twinkle lights and fire pit. It’s cozy and it feels like us.”

He nodded. “And we get built-in charm from the trees turning.”

You reached over and jotted something in the computer. “Add extra blankets. Maybe a hot chocolate bar?”

Jack looked impressed. “That’s dangerously festive.”

“It is October Jack, almost Halloween. Just nothing scary” you said with a grin.

He laughed. “Food?”

“I’m sure we could find a caterer on short notice. But something seasonal—gourmet grilled cheese, tomato soup, maybe even apple cider donuts.”

Jack let out a happy sigh. “Marrying you just keeps getting better.”

You bumped his shoulder. “What about the ceremony? You still want Robby to officiate?”

“Yeah,” he said, without hesitation. “He’s got the right mix of sarcastic and sentimental. I’ll talk to him when we go back to work.”

“You could just call him now, stop procrastinating. You missed your chance last time.”

“Alright, let’s just finish this, then I’ll call.”

You were quiet for a moment, listening to the wind brush the windows. Then Jack asked, “What are you thinking for your dress?”

“Something simple I guess. I don’t know I just always imagined some type of fairy tale wedding in my head. Just going to scale it down into something less magical now.”

“You are magical,” he said, leaning over to kiss your temple. “I’ll wear whatever matches your vibe. Just not a tux.”

“Deal,” you said with a laugh. “And no heels for me. I’m not falling in the grass.”

“God, I love you,” he said, dead serious.

You looked over at him, your heart full. “I love you too.”

He tapped the laptop, eyes back on the screen. “Okay, so: backyard, hot chocolate, donuts, and Robby’s officiating. That’s basically everything.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. 

“We’re gonna pull off the coziest, most chaotic October wedding ever aren’t we?’

He smiled down at you. “And our kid’s going to hear about it every fall for the rest of their life.”

“Now call Robby.”

Jack had his phone on speaker, resting on the coffee table between you, laptop closed now that most of the planning was done. 

“Is this a medical emergency?” Robby’s voice came through, dry and unmistakably tired. “Because if it is, I’m hanging up.”

Jack smirked. “Nope. No emergencies. Just your favorite engaged couple calling with an exciting proposition.”

There was a beat of silence. “If this is a weird sex thing, I’m hanging up faster.”

“It’s not a sex thing, Robby.”

“Good. Because I’m not that kind of friend. What’s going on?” 

You could hear Collin’s laughing in the background.

Jack leaned forward. “We’ve got the wedding mostly planned. We’re aiming for 2 weeks from now actually. Uh- wanted to know if we could borrow your backyard?”

“And we want you to officiate,” you added, watching Jack’s face light up as you said it.

There was a longer pause this time.

“And I want you to be my best man.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Jack said. “We want someone who knows us. Who’s been through a lot with us. And honestly, someone who won’t turn the whole ceremony into a cheesy rom-com script.”

Robby was quiet for a moment. “Well… shit.”

You smiled. “That a yes?”

“That’s a hell yes to all of it.” he said, voice softer now. “You sure you want me standing up there?”

“We couldn’t picture anyone else,” you said.

“You’ve seen us at our worst,” Jack added. “It makes sense you’d be the one to see us at our best too.”

There was a brief pause before Robby spoke again, and this time, you could hear the emotion just beneath his usual sarcasm.

“I’d be honored. Just tell me what to wear and what not to say.”

“Something warm, and please don’t lead with a joke about our sex life,” Jack said.

“No promises.”

You all laughed, and for a moment it was just easy—friends on a call, something steady and joyful settling into place.

Robby cleared his throat. “Alright. Guess I better start writing something. This kid’s going to want to hear the story someday, right?”

You looked at Jack, who was already looking at you.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “They will.”

After talking for a few minutes, you two hung up.

“Now call Langdon.”

“Why am I calling Langdon?”

“Because he’s obviously going to be your maid of honor.”

“First of all, it’s man of honor, and fine I’ll call him.”

Langdon picked up before the first ring even finished. “Hello my favorite night shift attending.”

“Lang,” you said with a laugh, “Jacks right next to me.”

Jack muffled his face in a pillow, chuckling. Langdon exhaled loudly. “Okay, okay. You’re still my favorite. But what’s up? What can I do for you guys?”

You smiled. “I want you to be my man of honor at the wedding in 2 weeks.”

Silence. Which, for Langdon, was a rare and powerful thing.

“NO. Stop. Are you serious?”

“Very,” you said. “You’ve been in my corner since day one. You’ve heard every doubt, every freak-out, every detail of this whole thing. You held my hand during too many of my bad moments. And I want you to walk me down the aisle.”

There was a sniff on the other end.

“Langdon?” Jack said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’M FINE,” Langdon said, clearly not fine. “I’m just—ugh. Damn it. Why’d you have to make this emotional? I was already picturing myself in navy linen and now I’m crying on my couch in pajamas.”

You smiled. “So that’s a yes?”

“It’s the biggest yes I’ve ever said without a ring involved,” he managed, voice thick. 

“God. You guys are gonna ruin my mascara that day.”

Jack leaned in. “At least it’ll be waterproof, right?”

Langdon scoffed. “Please.”

You all laughed again, and for the second time in an hour, something clicked into place—another piece of your heart, chosen and confirmed.

“I love you both,” Langdon said, softer now. “Thanks for making me part of this.”

“You always were,” you said.

After a few more minutes of chatter and enthusiastic wedding suggestions, Langdon did bring up matching socks to Jack, you hung up.

Jack looked over at you. “Feeling good?”

You nodded. “Feeling really damn good.”

The circle was forming. And with each call, the day felt a little more real, a little more beautiful, and a lot more yours.

———————————————————————

The Day Before 

The night before the wedding, everything felt like it was humming with anticipation—quiet, yet brimming with energy. You both had decided to spend the night and Robby and Collin’s place but, on opposite sides of the house. Though the last few hours had been filled with final touches, decorations, and excited chatter from your friends who’d gathered around to help, there was a peacefulness to it all. 

It was just you now, sitting in bed, the soft glow of the lamp warming the room.

Jack had already gone to bed—he was giving you your space to unwind, but there had been something he wanted you to have before the morning came.

You heard the soft creak of the door behind you.

“Hey,” Jack’s voice, low and careful. “You still awake?”

“Barely,” you answered with a soft smile, catching his reflection in the mirror. He was standing in the doorway, holding something in his hand.

“What’s that?” you asked.

He stepped closer, looking almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how to present it. “It’s the note I shoved back in my pocket the day I proposed to you.”

You sat up higher in bed, taking in the sight of him—his silver hair a little messy, his eyes still bright despite the late hour. He had a nervous energy about him, the kind you hadn’t seen in a while.

“What’s in it?” you asked again, your voice quieter now, sensing the significance of the moment.

Jack held up a folded piece of paper, the edges frayed. “I- I actually wrote it right after we met. It’s from when I realized how I felt about you. My therapist wanted me to write down my feelings. I just turned them into a letter.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. "What do you mean? Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?"

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” he said with a little chuckle. “It’s just, I thought maybe it would be something you'd want to read now. I don’t know. Couldn’t give you this in the beginning. You would’ve thought I was crazy.”

He placed the note in your hands and stepped back, giving you space. His gaze never left you as you carefully unfolded it.

The writing was messy, a little rushed, but it was undeniably Jack—the thoughts were raw, honest, and vulnerable in a way you hadn't expected.

Dear You,

I don’t know if you remember the weather that day, or any of the cases you worked or saw. But I can recall every single moment from that initial day. The day that changed everything.

It was a Monday—though in the ER, days of the week don’t mean much. Everything was loud, alarms blaring, overhead pages, a trauma code already in motion. I had just finished his night shift, brain running on caffeine and muscle memory.

Your hair pulled back in a messy braid, eyes locked onto Robby giving the same speech he does to every group of interns.You weren’t trying to be noticed. You stayed to the back of the group. You kept quiet, letting everybody else do all the talking. But something about you made everything in me stop all at once. You smiled at something someone said — a quiet laugh, the kind people save for inside their own mind — and I remember thinking, God, I hope she does that again.

We barely spoke that first day. Just enough for me to hear your voice, just enough for me to wonder how someone I’d never met could already feel so familiar. I didn’t know your name yet. Didn’t know your story, your laugh, your quirks. I didn’t know you were the kind of person who would stay after a code just to make sure your team was okay. That you’d memorize every nurse’s birthday. That you’d carry every loss quietly, but feel every win like it mattered. I told you that your excitement to be here would be short-lived but, just as you always do, you proved me wrong. 

I didn’t fall in love with you all at once. It was slow. I fell more in love every time you called me out when I needed it, and every time you stood next to me when I didn’t deserve it. Every time we passed off patients like a well-rehearsed dance. Every time your shoulder brushed mine at the nurse’s station and it meant more than it should have.

I fell in love with the way you carry your strength—quiet, unshakable. And the way you let yourself fall apart when no one else is looking, trusting me enough to see it. I didn’t realize how deep I was until I couldn’t imagine walking into a trauma bay and not looking for you first. Until every shift without you felt off.

And now, here we are. One night before we promise each other everything. But I think, in a way, I promised you a long time ago. In that first look. In that first nod. In all the moments in between.I don’t need vows to tell you I love you.I’ve been loving you this whole time.

But that day, it’s funny to think we were strangers that morning. Because now I can’t remember what it feels like not to know you. And maybe you didn’t notice anything. Maybe for you, it was just your last medical school rotation. But for me? It was the beginning of the rest of my life.

So, thank you for choosing this hospital. For being exactly who you are, without knowing you were changing someone else’s life just by being in the building.

I think my heart knew you before I did. And it’s been choosing you every single second, minute, and hour ever since. And it will, until the end.

Love,

Dr. Jack Abbott

You smiled softly, brushing your fingers over the handwriting. The words felt like a reflection of everything you’d come to understand about Jack over the years—his deep, unwavering certainty that what you shared was fate.

“I had no idea you wrote this,” you said, voice full of wonder.

Jack shrugged, the smile on his lips softening. “I didn’t want to forget it. And, uh- when I was trying to think of the right words for tomorrow, I thought this was a good place to start.”

Your heart squeezed as you stood, crossing the short distance between you and him. 

You kissed him softly, tenderly, before pulling away just enough to look up at him.

“I think you’ve more than proved it,” you whispered, your hands resting on his chest.

Jack’s hand came up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I meant every word, you know. Still do. I’m still here. And I always will be.”

You rested your forehead against his, eyes closing as a sense of peace washed over you. The weight of the moment, the years that had passed, the future waiting for you both—it all felt perfect.

“I love you,” you whispered.

He smiled again, pulling you in closer. “And I love you.”

You leaned into him, your heart full, your mind racing with everything you’d already been through together. And tomorrow, when you stood in front of everyone, ready to promise forever, this was only the beginning.

“Stay”

He pulled his head back. “What?”

“I don’t care about all the superstitions about seeing each other before I walk down the aisle. I want you to stay with me tonight. Please.”

Jack stepped closer, like he still wasn’t sure if you meant it. “You sure?”

You nodded. 

A pause. Then the softest smile broke across his face.

“Of course I’ll stay with you tonight.”

You lay there in silence for a while, your hand finding his under the sheets.

“You know,” you whispered, “I remember the first time I saw you, too.”

He turned slightly, his breath brushing your hair. “Yeah?”

You smiled into the dark. “You looked exhausted. Like you’d carried the whole ER on your back all night. But you still paused just long enough to see me. No one else did but, you stopped.”

Jack kissed your forehead, and it felt like everything in the world slowed.

“I guess I’ve been stopping for you ever since,” he murmured.

And together, in that borrowed room, you drifted into sleep—not alone, not apart. Just together.

Exactly where you were always meant to be.

———————————————————————

The Wedding Day

The backyard was glowing from the upstairs window. Collins, Mel, and Dana had all helped you get ready. 

Twinkle lights were strung between trees with fiery orange leaves, flickering gently as dusk settled in. The scent of hot chocolate, and woodsmoke hung in the air, mingling with laughter and the soft rustle of shoes over fallen leaves.

You stood in front of the mirror in your dress, the one that you tried on first. You took a deep breath, admiring the way the fabric fell around you, the intricate lace that made the whole thing feel just a little bit magical.

The room had been full of movement and chatter just moments ago. Collins fussing with your veil like she was prepping a sterile field, Mel fixing a rogue strand of hair with the same focus she’d use to suture a laceration, and Dana kneeling at your feet, carefully adjusting the hem of your dress as if it were something sacred.

“You know,” Dana had said with a half-smile as she fastened your bracelet, “this might be the first time I’ve seen your hands not in gloves.”

Mel snorted, still holding a bobby pin between her teeth. “I’m just impressed we got her to sit still for more than three minutes.”

“You try keeping someone still when she’s about to marry Jack,” Collins said, adjusting the veil one last time. “Man looked like he was going to pass out when I saw him downstairs this morning.”

They laughed—and so did you—but there was something underneath it. A shared understanding. These women had been with you through the long nights, the traumas you never talked about, the break room breakdowns and post-shift breakfasts. They knew what it meant for someone like you to find someone like him.

Mel came to your side and offered you a tissue, dabbing the corner of her own eyes with a teasing, “If you cry now, I swear we’re redoing the whole face.”

You laughed—really laughed—and felt the nerves shift. Not disappear, just settle. Like everything else today, you didn’t need perfection. You just needed to be present.

Dana glanced out the window. “Lights are on. They’re ready.”

“Are you?” Collins asked.

You turned back to your reflection—three women behind you, leaves glowing outside the window, and the promise of him waiting just beyond it all.

“I am,” you said, voice strong and sure. “I really, really am.”

They left you so you could have moment to process before going downstairs.

Behind you, no bridesmaids, just Langdon, dressed in a navy suit with a matching pocket square. 

But it was Robby who stood next to you, his eyes soft, his hands steady as he helped you adjust your veil.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, looking you over one last time.

You smiled, a little nervous, a little excited. “I think I am.”

The air felt charged with expectation, and even though you hadn’t seen Jack yet, you could feel him nearby, his presence comforting.

Robby handed you a small, folded piece of paper. “You’ll need this.”

You glanced at it, unsure. “What’s this?”

“It’s the vows you wrote,” Robby said, his voice teasing but affectionate. “Since you were about to forget these upstairs.”

You laughed softly, tucking the note into the pocket of your dress. The warmth of his hand on your arm steadied you. “Thanks, Robby. For everything.”

He gave a rare, soft smile. “Always.”

Outside, you could hear conversation, the last-minute adjustments being made. Your heart raced as you took one more breath, finally feeling the full weight of the moment.

The music shifted, the soft notes of your song playing through the speakers as you took your first step toward the door. You looked at Langdon, who gave you an exaggerated thumbs up, and smiled back.

Then, you stepped into the dwindling sunlight.

Jack stood at the altar, his back straight, his smile crooked as he turned to look at you. 

The crowd was still, waiting. 

The soft rustle of the wind in the trees was the only sound as you walked toward him, every step feeling like it was in sync with your heartbeat.

You locked eyes with him the moment you stepped into view, and it was like time slowed down. His expression was soft, full of love, of awe. You could see the way his lips twitched as he tried not to smile too widely, his eyes welling up just before his tears started to fall.

You took the final steps to stand beside him, your hand trembling slightly as you placed it in his. He squeezed your fingers, grounding you.

Robby cleared his throat before speaking in his usual dry tone, but you could hear the emotion behind it.

“We’re gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of two extraordinary people. Their journey together has been nothing short of remarkable. It has been filled with laughter, tears, challenges, and triumphs. But today is the moment where you commit to each other in front of the people who love you, to continue building a future together, hand in hand.”

You could feel Jack’s hand tighten around yours, and you turned to him, meeting his gaze.

He glanced between the two of you. “Jack, you once told me you weren’t the marrying type. And then, one night after a shift, you started talking about someone. And you didn’t stop talking about her. For months. I don’t even think you noticed. That was when I knew—this wasn’t just a crush. It was a shift. A reroute. A knowing.”

Then he turned to you, eyes soft. “And you. You always knew who you were. But Jack helped you rest in who you were. You didn’t shrink. You expanded. He made space—and you filled it. With grace, stubbornness, and that exact tone of voice that can make an intern cry and a surgeon back down.”

More laughter.

“But seriously,” Robby said, quieter now. “What you two have, it’s rare. You’ve already seen more life and loss than most couples do in a lifetime. You’ve seen each other covered in blood, exhausted, snappy, sleepless. And yet, you chose softness. You chose coming back. Over and over again.”

“Since you’ll be reading your vows to each other at a later time in private, I guess we can get to the most important part of the day.”

“Jack,” Robby said, turning to him. “Do you take her to be your partner in life, in love, and in all things, to cherish her, to support her, and to continue growing with her every day, no matter what the future holds?”

Jack took a deep breath, his voice steady but filled with emotion as he said, “I do.”

Robby turned to you. “And do you take Jack to be your partner in life, to laugh with him, to comfort him, and to support him, even when it’s hard? To love him fiercely, just as he loves you?”

You felt your chest tighten, but you smiled, nodding as your voice came out a little shaky but clear. “I do.”

Robby smiled, a little choked up himself. “Then, by the power vested in me by the internet, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss the bride.”

The moment Jack leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, everything felt like it fell into place. 

The cheers from your friends and family around you filled the air, but you barely heard them. 

The world, for that moment, was just the two of you—together, as it had always been meant to be.

When you pulled away, your foreheads rested together, and you could feel his heart racing in the same rhythm as yours. The crowd was still cheering, but it was as if you were in your own little world.

Jack whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, “I love you. You were worth the wait.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread 

through you. “I love you too. And I always will.”

———————————————————————

After the Ceremony

The reception was everything you could have hoped for. Filled with laughter, stories shared, and friends and family gathered together. There were toasts, dancing, and endless smiles, but underneath it all, the knowledge that you had just taken the first official step of a lifetime together.

Later, as the night wound down and the last of the guests trickled out, Jack found you outside under the stars, admiring what you two had pulled off in just two weeks. He took your hand, pulling you into his arms as you both gazed at the sky.

“I think this was the perfect day,” you whispered. Jack kissed your temple, holding you a little tighter. “It’s only the beginning.”

Your heart knew that everything, all the love and promises, had led to this perfect moment. You had found your person. And together, you would face whatever came next.

And somewhere just beneath the joy and laughter, a tiny flutter in your belly reminded you: the best part was still on the way.

———————————————————————

Hope yall enjoyed this one! Pretty sappy. Think in the next chapter were gonna see how the pregnancy hormones kick in. Don't know, Jack might have a little bit of a pregnancy kink, who knows.

Let me now what you think down below please!

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

The Ones Who Survived

***

Jackson looked like something out of a fairy tale when you arrived — snowy rooftops, warm chimneys, laughter in the streets.

But no one told you how cold it could feel when people didn’t want you there.

Not because of who you were.

But because of where you’d come from.

The Colville camp.

That name carried weight.

People in Jackson knew it. Knew the stories.

A place ruled by fear, violence, cruelty.

A place where decent people didn't survive.

So if you had made it out of there?

People whispered that maybe you weren’t so decent after all.

They didn’t know you were a prisoner. That you’d barely escaped with your life.

They didn’t know how many nights you spent hiding in crawlspaces, how many times you thought you were going to die.

They just saw the mark of that camp on you —

and assumed it meant something dark.

It was Joel who first talked to you like a person.

Not a rumor.

You were restocking shelves in the storage barn, head down, trying not to draw attention.

He came in quiet as anything, picking through boxes.

“You’re the one who came from Colville.”

It wasn’t a question.

You stiffened, bracing for more judgment.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s me.”

He didn’t respond right away.

Then, gently: “That place was hell.”

You blinked at him, surprised.

Joel’s eyes were tired but kind. He didn’t look afraid of you.

Didn’t look like he thought you were dangerous.

“I knew someone who died tryin’ to get outta there,” he said. “He wasn’t the only one.”

You nodded slowly. Your throat felt tight.

“I almost didn’t make it either,” you whispered. “I only got out because—”

You stopped yourself. Too much. Too fast.

Joel didn’t push.

“Don’t gotta tell me,” he said. “But you don’t need to explain yourself to people here. Not to me."

You stared at him.

“Why do you care?”

Joel paused.

“’Cause I know what it’s like to have blood on your hands you didn’t ask for.”

Something unspoken passed between you in that moment.

It wasn’t friendship. Not yet.

It was understanding.

***

Days turned to weeks.

You started going on short patrols. Joel made sure you were paired with him. Said it was because you were new, needed someone experienced.

You knew better. He just didn’t trust the others to treat you right.

You didn’t talk much on the first few rides.

But Joel never made you feel like you had to.

When you did open up — late one evening while setting up camp — you told him a little about Colville.

How they’d forced you to work for them.

How you’d watched them hurt others.

How you’d kept your head down, done what you had to, even when it made you hate yourself.

Joel didn’t flinch. Didn’t judge.

He just nodded slowly, staring into the fire.

“You did what you had to do to stay alive,” he said. “That ain’t weakness. That’s survival.”

You weren’t sure when you started trusting him — but once you did, it was like something in you unlocked.

Joel was quiet. Steady. Brutally honest.

But he was kind, too. In the little ways.

Carrying extra water. Making sure you had gloves. Letting you ride ahead when the stares in Jackson got too heavy.

One night, after a long patrol, you saw it. A man muttering something cruel as you passed.

Joel stopped walking. Turned.

“What’d you just say?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.

The man went pale. Mumbled an apology.

Joel didn’t respond. He just rested a hand on your back and steered you away.

You were shaking.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.

“Yeah, I did,” Joel replied. “And I’ll do it again."

You didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then, so softly he almost didn’t hear it—

“Thank you.”

Joel looked at you like it physically hurt him to see you carry this weight alone.

“You’re safe here,” he said. “And I’ll make damn sure it stays that way.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

And for the first time since arriving in Jackson, you believed it.

Not because of the town.

Because of him.

***

The snowfall was lighter now. Spring whispered through Jackson’s trees, and for the first time since you arrived, you felt like you were part of something.

Joel helped with that.

You still weren’t one of them. Not exactly. But you weren’t just the girl from Colville anymore.

People nodded at you now. Some even smiled. You’d gone on enough patrols, helped enough with the food stores.

You were building something. A new life.

And then he showed up.

His name was Micah.

You hadn’t seen his face in almost a year, but you remembered it like a brand. Sharp jaw, a scar down his right cheek, eyes cold as ice.

You’d seen him at his worst — ordering executions, smiling while people begged.

He’d been one of the top men in Colville. And now he was standing in Jackson’s main gate like he belonged.

You were in the greenhouse when you saw him.

You froze, your hands trembling above a crate of sprouting carrots.

He caught your eye. Smiled.

Your breath vanished.

Joel found you fifteen minutes later, curled up behind the tool shed, white as a sheet.

“Hey, hey—what is it?” he crouched in front of you, hands steady but voice tight. “You hurt?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t speak.

He sat beside you. Waited. Gave you time.

When you finally forced it out—when you said his name—Joel’s face changed. Hardened into something ruthless.

“He what?” Joel demanded. “He’s here?”

You nodded, staring at your dirt-covered hands. “He saw me. Smiled like—like it was some kind of joke."

Joel stood so fast it startled you. His fists clenched.

“I’m going to talk to Maria.”

“No—Joel—” You grabbed his wrist. “I don’t want trouble. If he doesn’t—”

He turned, sharp and low.

“If he breathes wrong in your direction, it’s already trouble.”

He looked you over like he was checking for bruises.

“You're okay though? Did he touch you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “But Joel—he knows things. Things about me from back then.”

Joel crouched again, calmer now. His hand cupped your cheek.

“There’s not a damn thing that man can say that’s gonna change what I know about you. Not one thing.”

Your chest cracked open at the gentleness in his voice.

That night, Jackson held a council meeting. Joel was there. So was Maria. So was Micah.

Joel stood and said: “This man comes from a camp that tortured people. The woman he tormented lives here now. He’s not staying.”

Micah tried to protest. Said you were the one with secrets.

Said you weren’t as innocent as you looked.

Joel didn’t flinch.

He said, “I’ve fought beside her. Bled beside her. She’s got more strength in one hand than you’ve got in your whole body.”

In the end, Maria made the call.

Micah was denied entry.

He left that same night, but not before finding you one last time. He waited by the edge of the fence, just outside town.

“You always were good at running,” he sneered. “Got someone else to fight your battles now?”

You didn’t answer. You just stared him down, silent and steady.

Behind you, boots crunched snow. Joel appeared at your side like a shadow.

Micah flinched.

“Leave, now.” Joel said, deadly calm, “before I decide you don’t get to.”

Micah took one last look at you, but his confidence was gone. He turned and vanished into the dark.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. Just walked you back in silence, his hand firm on your back.

When the gates shut behind you, he finally spoke.

“You’re not running anymore,” he said. “You’ve got a home. You’ve got me.”

You didn’t cry. Not then.

But later, when he wrapped his arms around you in bed, you held onto him like he was the safest thing in the world.

[floriso]

✿ celebrating mama — ּ   ִ  𐑺ִ nct dream

PREMISE ─── how the dreamies celebrate you on mother’s day as the love of their life and the mother of their baby .

( 내용 ) ─── pairing : dad!nct dream x fem!reader. genre : fluffy fluff. warnings : ( not a warning ) baby is referred to as ‘little love’ in all. wc : 1.2k

✿ lani’s note ! little something for mother’s day (,,>ヮ<,,)!

mark :

he wakes up before the sun ( and earlier than the baby for once ), groggy but determined, because you deserve something special. tries to cook breakfast, fumbling through making pancakes. burns the first one, laughs quietly, and starts again. by the time you stir awake, he walks in with a tray of breakfast ( messily made, but full of love ), a cup of juice, a flower in a cup, and a hand-drawn card he helped your toddler make. the card colored in your favorite color was adorned with scribbles, hearts, and ‘i luv mama’. “i told little love to draw flowers but…i think that’s a dinosaur? or something?” he grins, kissing your temple. the kid crawls into your lap, mumbling “happy mama.” mark just watches, his heart full, hand on your back, whispering “happy mother’s day babe. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me…i don’t know how i got so lucky.”

renjun :

he plans the whole day like it’s a sacred holiday. the first thing you feel is his fingers brushing your back and his voice, soft against your ear. “happy mother’s day, angel.” he lets you stay in bed while he slips away to get your favorite breakfast started. he’s already got your usual mug waiting beside the coffee maker. the baby’s giggling as he carries them back to you, dressed in a shirt that says ‘mama’s no. 1 fan.’ a tiny flower clutched and twirling in their little hand. renjun helps them hold it out, grinning when you tear up. he keeps sneaking photos of you all day. some of you rocking your kid, smiling, and by the end of the day, he hands you a little album: “your first mother’s day. for you to remember how loved you are.” his eyes stay glassy all night.“i know we say it every day, but today…i want you to hear it louder. you’re everything. to me, to little love too. thank you for all of it.” he keeps looking at you like you’re art, every hour, every moment, committing your beauty to memory.

jeno :

he holds the baby while you sleep in, padding around the house on quiet feet. even when you wake, he’s still holding the baby. shirtless, with bed hair and sleepy eyes, bouncing them gently in his arms while whispering to them. “mommy’s sleeping, yeah? she deserves to rest.” he smiles when he sees you awake and walks over to kiss your forehead, pressing the baby into your arms like it’s your reward. he leaves them with you as he grabs the flowers from the kitchen, bringing them back with a soft smile. he won’t let you lift a finger all day. he’s changing diapers, cleaning, feeding, just watching you with warm eyes and calling you “my superhero.” he dotes on you too. massaging your feet, giving you space and quiet when you need it. that night, when the baby’s finally down and you’re curled into his chest, he murmurs, “you made our life whole. i hope today felt even a little like how you make us feel every day.”

haechan :

you wake up to chaotic whispering. “don’t wake her up, don’t wake her up!” and the sound of feet scrambling in the hallway. he comes in pretending nothing happened, grinning way too big you wake up to him whispering “happy mother’s day, mama,” against your neck, your child snuggling up between you both. he’s been teaching them how to say it, so when they babble it back ( half-right ), he grins like the sun. “we tried to make breakfast, and by we, i mean little love supervised and i burned the waffles.” the day is playful and full of laughter. bubble baths with your toddler, a living room dance party, all his teasing affection. but there’s a softness in his voice when he says, “little love’s lucky. got the most beautiful, caring woman to be their mom.” at night, once everything’s quiet, he wraps his arms around you from behind and says, real soft, “you’re doing so well, baby. i know some days are hard but…you’re the heart of this whole family. and i’m so in love with you.”

jaemin :

jaemin is in awe of you daily, but today? he’s in full worship mode. he planned it for weeks. the matching outfits, the homemade brunch. he sets up the picnic in the backyard or the living room and films tiny snippets of your laugh, your baby resting on your chest, your sleepy smile. “i want them to see just how incredible their mom is.” the photos he takes of you cuddling the baby with morning sun washing over your face making him smile. this was exactly how he wanted the day. just you and the baby, happy and calm. and he doesn’t stop touching you, kisses to your forehead, your shoulder, your hand. he brings you a necklace with the baby’s birthstone, clasping it gently behind your neck while whispering, “you made me a father. you gave o little love the gentlest love i’ve ever seen. i fall in love with you more every day.” later, he lays the baby on your chest and kisses your shoulder. “they’re safe because of you. they’re home because of you. and we both love you so much, angel.”

chenle :

he doesn’t go the flashy route this year. instead, you wake up to quiet jazz in the background, the scent of something warm baking, and chenle rocking your toddler near the window, both of them still in pajamas. he makes your morning coffee just right and brings it to you in bed with the kid snuggled against his chest. “morning, mama. happy mother’s day.” he didn’t buy anything fancy, just had a photo of the two of you printed and framed, the one where you’re laughing while holding your baby, your eyes crinkled and glowing. “we had a team meeting this morning. decided you’re the best mom in the universe,” he says with a smirk. but you catch the softness in his eyes, the way he stares like he still can’t believe how lucky he is. he gives it to you without a word, then kisses your forehead and says, “i want them to grow up seeing you like this. happy. loved. everything.” and he can’t help himself, taking you out to dinner later in the evening.

jisung :

he’s been nervous about doing everything right—googling gift ideas, asking the other members what to cook, pacing around the day before. when the morning comes, he’s a little awkward but trying so hard. he holds your baby like they’re made of glass and whispers “say happy mama day, okay? mama’s our everything.” he brings you a tray with toast, fruit, and a little cup of coffee, all balanced awkwardly as your toddler trails behind him. he writes you a letter. shy, rambling, sweet, and folds it into a card he decorated with stickers and glitter with your toddler. he helps them climb into bed with you and then lays beside you, chin on your shoulder. “i don’t say it well but…you amaze me. every day. you gave little love life, and you gave me everything.” his hand finds yours and doesn’t let go for the rest of the morning. by nighttime, he’s curled up with you and your baby in his arms, whispering, “thank you for choosing this…for choosing me.”

[guiltyandashamed]

shared by the twins pt. 2

18+

afab reader

3.8k words

beelzebub x mc x belphegor

content: one at either end, bj, dp, overstimulation

Belphie didn’t waste a second. His fingers curled around her wrist, tugging her up and onto him with a quiet, impatient grunt. MC let him pull her, the oversized shirt she wore — one of Beel’s — sliding up her thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. Belphie’s hands found her hips easily, the weight and heat of his palms firm and claiming. He pulled her down against him, settling her right where he wanted her, his grip tightening when he felt just how bare she was underneath.

"You really weren’t planning to behave, were you?" he murmured against her skin, voice low and rough as he dragged his mouth along her jaw. Above them, Beel watched from where he sat on the bed, his breathing heavy, his hands restless on his thighs. His shirt hung off her frame, the hem riding higher and higher as Belphie slowly rocked her hips against his, guiding her into a slow, teasing grind that made her bite her lip to muffle a sound.

"Not gonna last long if you keep doing that," Belphie muttered, half in warning, half in encouragement, his fingers pressing bruising patterns into her hips. He leaned back lazily against the pillows, hands loosely gripping her thighs now, thumbs rubbing idle circles into her skin. His violet eyes were half-lidded, a satisfied little smirk playing on his lips as he watched her.

"You're doin' fine," he drawled, voice thick and slow with pleasure, "Go ahead... I'm not lifting a finger." Typical Belphie — the Avatar of Sloth, leaving her to move at her own pace while he just laid there, enjoying every second of it. His heavy-lidded gaze raked over her, appreciating how she moved for him, how the shirt clung to her and rode up with each roll of her hips. She grounded herself by putting her hands on his chest, and slowly, she rocked back and forth.

Every now and then, he'd give a lazy thrust upward, just enough to draw a sharp gasp from her, but otherwise, he was content to let her do all the work. His hands slipped under the loose hem of Beel’s shirt, palms hot against her bare waist, but even that touch was unhurried — teasing, languid, meant to make her feel every inch of contact. His hands crept up lazily to palm her breasts, cupping and squeezing.

"You're so pretty like this," he murmured, tilting his head back with a soft groan. "Keep going, baby..."

Behind them, Beel watched, still hard, still needing, but waiting for his turn again, his hungry eyes following every slow, sultry movement. MC didn't forget about Beel. Between the slow grind against Belphie, she'd reach out — touch, stroke, tease — giving Beel just enough attention to make him groan low in his throat, to make him shift restlessly on the bed, fighting the urge to jump in too soon. Belphie noticed. Of course he did.

He felt her body start to slow, distracted, and that familiar little burn of jealousy flared in his chest — lazy by nature, sure, but not when it came to her. His hands tightened on her waist and he gave a sharp, purposeful thrust up into her, stealing a gasp from her lips.

"Focus," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly near her ear. "You're with me right now." Before she could respond, he shifted his weight, grabbing her wrists and easing her back onto the mattress, pressing her down. He kissed her, deep and slow, his body rolling into hers with more urgency now, stealing her breath away before she could even think about Beel again.

But Beel wasn’t going to be left out for long.

While Belphie moved over her, keeping her pinned with his body and attention, Beel repositioned himself. He settled near her head, his heavy hand cupping her cheek as he guided her mouth toward him — a silent, needy invitation that she accepted without hesitation. The mattress creaked under the weight of all three of them, heat and hands and low, needy sounds filling the room like a heavy fog.

Her groans vibrated around Beel, making him shudder and grip the sheets beside her head, his restraint slipping fast.

At the same time, Belphie drove into her from below, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, losing the lazy rhythm he'd started with. His hands roamed up her sides, feeling every quiver, every arch of her body as he pushed her closer to the edge again.

The sounds of her, muffled against Beel, only spurred Belphie on — the soft, desperate noises, the way her body squeezed around him. "You're perfect," Belphie muttered against her ear, voice rough and ragged now, his hips snapping up to meet her with an intensity that left them both gasping.

Beel growled low in his chest, hand tangling in her hair, guiding her a little faster, a little rougher, matching the way Belphie was using her from below. She was caught between them, overwhelmed and trembling, and they weren’t planning to let her go anytime soon. Beel noticed the tear slip from the corner of her eye, his brows knitting in concern for just a moment — but the way she clung to him, the shudder of pleasure in her body, told him she didn't want to stop.

Still, he moved carefully, adjusting his angle, cradling the back of her head with one big hand while the other helped steady her waist. He pushed deeper, but slower now, filling her in a way that made her breath hitch and another helpless moan spill out around him.

Belphie, meanwhile, was anything but gentle. He gripped her hips, bruising and possessive, pulling her down onto him over and over again. His rhythm was relentless, fueled by the tight heat of her, the way she whimpered and gasped between them.

He leaned up slightly, his mouth brushing her ear, his voice a dark purr. "You're doing so good, baby," he murmured, tightening his hold to thrust harder, deeper. "Keep taking us so well." She was trembling now, wrung out between the two of them, every inch of her overstimulated, overwhelmed—and craving more.She shuddered, caught helpless between them.

Belphie gave a deep, low groan, pulling out at the last second. Hot and thick, he spilled across her stomach and chest in messy streaks, his breath ragged. She barely had a moment to catch her own breath before Beel shifted — the hand at the back of her head tilted her chin just slightly, angling her for him.

With a low, desperate sound, Beel pressed deeper past her lips, and she accepted him without hesitation, letting him slide against her tongue. His hand was gentle but firm as he held her there, and when he finally spilled, she swallowed around him instinctively, the weight and heat of him flooding her throat.

The sounds she made — soft, broken, overwhelmed — stirred something primal in both of them.

Beel stroked her hair after, slow and almost reverent, as she licked her lips clean, tasting them both. Belphie, still sprawled back on the bed, watched through heavy-lidded eyes, a lazy but satisfied smirk curving his mouth.

Belphie nudged Beel with his foot lazily, a silent signal between the two of them. Beel chuckled under his breath and stood, making his way to where Belphie was, easily lifting MC in his arms and setting her down again — this time with her stomach against the mattress.

The sheets were cool against her flushed skin. She barely had time to adjust before hands were on her — one set strong and steady, the other slower, teasing.

Beel's palms skimmed up her sides while Belphie moved to sit beside her. He traced the curve of her hip with featherlight touches, watching the way she squirmed under them. Beel leaned over her, a quiet rumble escaping him as he kissed the back of her neck, his body blanketing hers for a moment before he pulled back. Belphie settled beside her, one hand tangled lazily in her hair, the other brushing her lower back, down her spine.

"You're not tired yet, are you?" Belphie drawled, though he already knew the answer — she was exhausted, but willing, wanting. That was enough.

Beel lined himself up with agonizing slowness, hands gripping her hips again, anchoring her to him. MC braced herself, clutching the sheets, as they claimed her all over again — slow, deep, and overwhelming, the kind of rhythm that promised neither of them were close to finished yet.

Beel adjusted his grip, his large hands wrapping firmly around MC’s hips to tilt her up, adjusting the angle just enough. She gasped — the shift let him sink even deeper, stretching her beyond what Belphie had, his size unmistakable, filling her entirely.

The bed creaked under the pressure, the air thick with the sound of skin meeting skin, wet and breathless. Beside her, Belphie shifted lazily, still flushed and half-hard again despite himself. He sat back against the headboard, reaching for her hair. His fingers tangled in it, giving a light, almost taunting tug to tilt her head toward him.

He grinned wickedly when she looked up at him, dazed and pliant. He tapped the tip of himself against her cheek, a teasing slap of warmth against her flushed skin, smearing a bit of himself there before finally guiding her mouth to him. "Go on," he murmured lowly, his voice a lazy slur of pleasure and demand, "Don’t leave me waiting."

Beel rumbled in approval behind her, his pace steady, deep, almost possessive, feeling every slight tremble in her body as she worked for both of them at once.

Her soft, choked sounds reverberated around Belphie, the vibrations making him groan low in his throat. His hand tightened in her hair, fingers curling hard enough to sting, using the leverage to guide her rhythm — slow, then faster, pushing her down onto him, setting the pace he wanted without a care for how desperate it made her feel.

The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, slick and unfiltered. It was messy, loud, shameless. Behind her, Beel was relentless, his hands gripping her hips like he could mold them to fit him better. Occasionally, one broad palm would lift and slap against her ass with a sharp smack, leaving faint pink prints behind. She jolted with each strike, gasping around Belphie, the vibrations pulling a sharp groan from him.

Beel's pace grew heavier, the bed rocking beneath them, and MC was caught between their twin desires — every breath, every sound, every tremble, wrung out of her like a symphony meant only for them.

Beel's mouth was hot against her back, teeth scraping and biting in deliberate patterns, leaving blooming red marks and sickly bruises in his wake. He trailed them from her shoulders down to the curve of her spine, each one a claiming mark that made her shudder beneath him. His tongue would follow after, soothing briefly before he bit down again, rough and possessive.

Then he shifted his grip, pulling almost completely out — leaving her gasping and empty — only to slam back in, deep and brutal. The force rocked her forward on Belphie, making her choke around him, the wet sounds intensifying with each merciless thrust.

Belphie, meanwhile, rolled his hips upward in a lazy but calculated rhythm, grinding into her mouth. His fingers were still tangled in her hair, tugging her head just the way he wanted, guiding her speed and movement.

The twins fell into a devastating, relentless pace — Beel pounding into her from behind, Belphie rocking against her from the front — leaving her no space to catch her breath, utterly surrounded and filled by them.

The both of them pulled out with a low growl, finishing over her — warmth splattering across her back and thighs, dripping down her flushed skin. She trembled, barely able to stay upright, mind hazy and body raw from the intensity.

But before she could fully process it, they moved — almost like they'd communicated silently. Hands gripped her, shifting her easily, and suddenly Belphie was flat on his back, pulling her over him to straddle his lap. She wobbled, thighs weak, but he steadied her with a lazy but firm grip. Then she felt Beel behind her, crowding close, his much larger body radiating heat against her slicked back.

Her eyes widened in realization as she glanced over her shoulder, seeing Beel stroke himself back to full hardness. "W-wait... b-both of you?" she stammered, heart hammering, but already feeling herself clench in anticipation."You got two holes for a reason," Belphie muttered against her ear, voice thick and lazy but dripping with hunger.

She barely had a moment to catch her breath before Belphie adjusted her hips and sank her down onto him. A gasp tore from her throat — he was thick, and she was still so sensitive. Before she could even adjust, Beel's hands spread her cheeks, lining himself up, slow but determined. She'd already been slick from before, so easing in wasn't difficult.

The pressure was immense — a burning, stretching sensation that made her whimper helplessly. Belphie groaned low in his throat, feeling her tight around him, while Beel grunted as he pushed forward, relentless but careful.

They were slow, giving her time to ease into it. Beel's large hands, one on her ass, the other on the small of her back, trying to comfort her. Finally, when Beel was fully seated behind her, they both moved, a slow devastating rhythm that made her cry out, overwhelmed and completely, utterly full.

Belphie groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillows, the lazy smirk never leaving his lips. He swore he could feel Beel through her — the slight push and pull, the faint grind of their movements synced together inside her. It sent a shudder through him, a low rumble of pleasure he hadn't expected.

The thought filled him with a twisted sort of pride — knowing he was sharing MC with Beel, that they were both inside her at once, using her, overwhelming her. She belonged to both of them right now, and the intimacy of it, the possessiveness, made him tighten his grip on her hips.Besides, like this — no one filling her mouth — they could hear everything.

Every sweet, broken sound she made spilled into the room. Breathy little gasps. High whimpers. Deep, desperate moans. It was addicting.

Beel grunted low behind her, his large hands keeping her steady as he rolled his hips, slow at first, then picking up a punishing rhythm that made her voice crack into sobs of pleasure. Belphie couldn't help but match him, their bodies driving into her together, relentless.

He cracked one eye open to look at her — hair stuck to her sweaty face, lips parted, eyes glazed over with pure bliss — and the sight alone nearly undid him.

"Fuck," Belphie muttered, voice thick. His thumb traced slow, messy circles on her hipbone. "You’re so good for us, baby..." Beel only rumbled in agreement, the sound vibrating against her back as he leaned down, teeth grazing her shoulder before he bit, just hard enough to leave another mark.

MC cried out at the sensation, her body clenching down around them so tightly that both twins groaned — lost in her.bIt was a long time before either of them gave in — dragging it out, savoring every desperate little sound she made, every tremble of her body against theirs. They stayed pressed against her, moving in tandem, feeling each other through the thin walls of her body until, finally, the tension coiled too tightly to ignore.

Belphie was the first to break, a low, drawn-out groan tearing from his throat as he pulled her hips down hard against him and emptied deep inside her. Beel wasn’t far behind — a rough growl rumbling from his chest as he slammed in one last time before he pulled out, spilling across her lower back and thighs, his release sticky and hot on her skin.

Both brothers took a moment — panting, catching their breath, watching her between them. MC trembled slightly, legs exhausted and shaky from how long they’d kept her suspended between them. She let herself fall forward, catching herself on her arms, chest heaving.

Belphie sat up lazily, swiping his thumb through the mess on her back just to see her twitch. "Look at you," he said in a slow, approving drawl. "Perfect." Beel's hand was heavy and warm as it smoothed over her spine, gentle now in contrast to how rough he’d been moments ago.

But neither of them were done. They exchanged a look — the kind only twins could — and silently shifted again.

Beel tugged her up by the waist, pulling her onto his lap now, her back flush against his wide chest. His hands roamed slowly over her hips, her stomach, holding her steady. Belphie, already smirking, stretched out in front of them, reaching to guide her forward onto him, lazily stroking himself to hardness again.

She blinked, still catching her breath, dazed and flushed and so utterly pliant. "You’re not tired yet, are you?" Belphie murmured, voice low and teasing, while Beel’s mouth brushed against her ear, whispering something about wanting to feel her again.

MC could only whimper — because tired or not, it didn’t matter. They were far from finished with her~

~The world narrowed down to sensation. The wet slap of skin on skin, the obscene stretch of her body trying to accommodate both of them, the way every nerve ending seemed lit up and overwhelmed. Her body quaked between them, a fragile thing bracketed by relentless hunger and sleepy cruelty.

Beel grunted lowly against her shoulder, his mouth brushing her skin as he adjusted his grip again. His hands were hot and huge, spanning her hips easily, tugging her back harder onto him as he thrust up. The force rocked her into Belphie, whose own thrusts were slower, teasing, but somehow made it worse — made her tremble harder because she could never predict who would move when.

Belphie had settled into a smug rhythm now. He’d stopped kissing her to lean back slightly, his dark lashes half-lowered as he stared at her with heavy, satisfied eyes. He watched her face intently, greedily, catching every twitch and shiver, the way her mouth parted, the little broken sounds she couldn't hold back.

His hands mapped over her body, cupping her breasts roughly, thumbs teasing the swollen peaks. He palmed her, kneaded the soft flesh with a slow, almost lazy possessiveness. As if he was claiming her body one handful at a time.

When he rolled his hips up, he did it deliberately slow, savoring the way her entire body jerked in response, the way her nails scrabbled against his chest, leaving faint red trails. His mouth quirked into a lazy smile as she whimpered helplessly against his neck.

Beel’s pace, on the other hand, grew rougher, needier. Every thrust was a deep, shuddering impact that forced moans from her throat. His fingers dug bruises into her hips, grounding her as he lost himself in the feel of her, his breath hot and heavy against her ear.

The sounds between them were filthy — wet and needy and raw. Her body slick with sweat, their scents tangled in the air thick enough to choke on.

Beel leaned forward and pressed his forehead against her back, groaning deeply as he thrust harder. His large hands moved up from her hips to her waist, sliding to her belly to feel the way his cock bulged inside her, both of them inside her. The sensation made him groan again, deeper this time, something primal.

Belphie smirked against her breast and nipped at the sensitive skin just above her heart, leaving a fresh mark there. He suckled at her, then pulled back to admire the fresh bruise blooming under his lips.

“Pretty,” Belphie murmured, voice rough and low with pleasure. She could barely answer. She was dizzy, overwhelmed, clinging to Belphie’s shoulders for balance while Beel used her body mercilessly from behind. Her legs shook violently from the effort of staying upright, but they didn’t let her fall — they held her exactly where they wanted her.

A particularly deep thrust from Beel made her sob out loud. She would’ve collapsed if not for Belphie’s hands steadying her, dragging her down harder onto his own cock while Beel slammed into her from behind.

Her vision blurred, her thoughts disintegrated. There was no room for anything but feeling — the thick, hot stretch of both of them inside her, the sharp bites of teeth on her skin, the ruthless rhythm that never let her catch her breath.

Beel muttered something low in his throat — something she couldn’t make out, too wrecked to process — but Belphie caught it and snickered under his breath. Whatever it was, it made Beel’s hands tighten again, almost lifting her off Belphie’s cock before slamming her back down.

Her entire body jolted with the force of it. The stretch burned sweetly, almost too much, but she could only moan brokenly in response, her walls clenching around them both helplessly.

Belphie hissed through his teeth, feeling it, his hips jerking up involuntarily. “Tighter,” he muttered, one hand sliding up to grasp her throat, not squeezing, just holding her there, feeling the frantic thud of her pulse under his palm.

She whimpered his name, voice cracking. Her body felt like it was going to split apart, but there was no stopping now — they had found a brutal rhythm between them, her body nothing but a toy caught between their greed.

Beel’s teeth found her shoulder, biting hard enough to leave marks, to anchor himself as his thrusts grew erratic. His growls vibrated through her skin, rumbling deep in his chest like a beast barely holding back.

Belphie’s hips rolled up into her just as Beel slammed down, their cocks grinding against each other inside her in a way that had all three of them gasping and swearing.

It built fast after that — her body tightening impossibly, every nerve drawn taut. She didn’t even know whose name she screamed when she came again, walls spasming around both of them, her body trembling violently in their hold.

Belphie cursed sharply, feeling her clamp down, and Beel wasn’t far behind. Beel let out a roar of pleasure, grabbing her hips in a bruising grip as he thrust deep one last time, flooding her with a hot spill of cum that pushed Belphie over the edge, too.

Belphie groaned low against her neck, his hips jerking up erratically as he spilled inside her at the same time, filling her even more. For a long moment, none of them moved. She was a shivering, whimpering mess draped over Belphie, Beel slumped behind her, both of them panting like they’d run miles.

Slowly, carefully, they withdrew, leaving her a wreck — shaking, sore, dripping with their combined mess.bBeel kissed the side of her neck softly, almost apologetically, before collapsing back onto his bed. Belphie didn’t move at all, just lazily ran his hands over her thighs and waist, smirking in satisfaction.

"You're ours now," he murmured against her heated skin, possessive and sleepy.

Beel hummed his agreement, eyes half-lidded but burning.

She was too wrecked to argue — not that she would’ve even if she could.

[zeisoul]

⌗ 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊

肖德俊  xiaojun  x reader ⋮ xiaojun’s always been soft with you — teasing, playful, a little possessive at most. but when he catches the way his roommates look at you, when he sees their stares linger a little too long, hears their voices dip when they say your name — something in him snaps. so he decides to remind them exactly who you belong to. and he doesn’t care if the door’s unlocked.

→ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 ━━━ +18. mdni — established relationship, cowgirl, dom!xiaojun, overstimulation, possessiveness / marking kink, voyeurism ( accidental ), humiliation, degradation kink, mention of breeding, minor exhibitionism, other wayv members overhearing ( and seeing. uhm. )

┃ㅤ𝑧𝑒𝑖’𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ⋆  i know it’s only been a few days but it felt like weeks.. i missed posting :( dug through my drafts, rewrote some stuff that was collecting dust, and here we are again !! hope u enjoy this little piece of my brain ♡

it starts with his hand on your thigh.

just that — nothing more at first. resting there like it belongs, fingers splayed just beneath the hem of your shorts, like he's testing how far he can get away with touching you in plain sight. the tv’s playing something you’re not watching, and the others — kun, ten, yangyang — are somewhere around the living room, half-distracted by the movie, half-aware of every little shift happening beside them.

xiaojun knows. that’s what makes it worse. better.

his thumb draws slow circles into your skin, warm and deliberate, and when you glance at him, nervous, you catch the look in his eyes — dark, lazy, smug as hell. that look alone makes your breath catch.

“you feel tense, baby,” he murmurs close to your ear, lips brushing your skin, his voice low and sticky sweet. “you want me to help with that?”

his hand slides higher. you twitch, thighs pressing together, but he just smirks and leans in like he’s sharing a secret.

“i’ve been watching them,” he says, voice dipped in something sharp. “kun when you stretch. ten when you wear those little shorts. yangyang—fuck, that kid doesn’t even try to hide it.”

you shift in his lap, heat flooding your cheeks, but the way he says it, the calm of his voice, the ownership in it — it makes your stomach clench.

“i don’t blame them,” he whispers, pressing his lips just beneath your jaw, slow and careful. “you’re fucking irresistible. always walking around like you don’t even know what you do to people.”

your breath catches. “jun…”

“shhh. not mad, baby.” he kisses down the side of your neck, right where it’s sensitive. “just think maybe they need a reminder.”

before you can ask what he means, he grabs your hips and shifts you onto his lap like it’s nothing. your legs straddle his, knees digging into the couch cushion, and the second you settle, you feel him — hard already. not even shy about it.

“mm,” he hums, dragging you over him once, slow and deep. “see that?”

you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders.

“they can’t make you feel like this,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat. “they can’t make you whimper just from one grind of my cock.”

your eyes flutter. you try to move back, play innocent, but he keeps you there, fingers digging into your waist.

“nah, baby. no hiding now.”

he rolls his hips up again, and you bite your lip to stop the sound that bubbles up — too loud, too obvious. somewhere in the room, someone shifts on the couch. another cough.

he grins against your cheek. “that’s right. let them hear.”

his hand slides between your legs, pushing your shorts aside just enough to press two fingers against your panties — soaked. you flinch, hips stuttering forward.

“fuck,” he laughs under his breath. “you’re soaked for me already?”

you nod, shaky. he pulls his fingers back, just to slide them over the wet patch again, slow and teasing.

“i should fuck you right here. should make you ride me like a good girl in front of all of them. you want that?”

you shake your head. lie.

he tsks. “you say no, but your pussy’s saying something else.”

he tugs your head down, lips brushing yours but not kissing you. “say it.”

“say what?” your voice is barely there.

“say who you belong to.”

you hesitate, and he grinds you down again, just enough pressure to pull a choked sound from your throat. he hears it. they hear it.

“i belong to you,” you whisper.

he cups your jaw, smile turning dark. “louder, baby. don’t be shy. i want them to hear.”

“jun…”

“you belong to who?”

“you,” you say, louder this time, breath catching. “i belong to you.”

he hums, satisfied. his fingers slip under your waistband now, bare skin on bare skin, and he kisses the corner of your mouth like a reward. like he hasn’t just ruined you without even pulling his cock out.

“good girl,” he breathes. “now ride me nice and slow.”

you blink, lips parting, but he leans in one last time, whispering against your ear like he owns you.

“they’re still listening, baby. don’t disappoint me.”

you can barely breathe. your head is spinning, skin flushed and hot and trembling where his fingers are teasing between your thighs, slipping just under the edge of your panties, knuckle-deep in temptation. your body is already leaning into it, rolling down against the hard press of his cock underneath his sweats — slow, desperate, like you need to give him a show.

you do.

his other hand pushes up the back of your shirt, palming the curve of your waist, then sliding higher — dragging his fingers along the line of your spine until you shiver for him. he loves that. smiles when you twitch like that.

"you're so fucking responsive,” he murmurs, voice low and smug. “can’t even touch you without your whole body shaking. what do you think they'd do if they saw you like this? if they saw the mess you make for me?”

you try to look away — but his grip tightens.

“no, eyes on me,” he growls. “not them. not anyone else. you're mine.”

he slides two fingers down, then in — no warning — just the slick sound of your arousal pulling him in like you were made for him. your breath stutters, a sharp gasp catching in your throat as your hips jerk forward, trying to ride it out already.

“fuck, baby, you’re soaking.” his voice goes dark, low in your ear. “you got this wet just from grinding on my cock? you want it that bad?”

"yes," you whimper, jaw falling open, lips brushing his cheek.

he curls his fingers inside you, slow and deep, just enough to make your head fall forward on his shoulder. he lets you hide there for a second, lets you pant against his throat while he fucks you with his hand — slow, deliberate strokes, every thrust angled perfectly toward that soft, spongy spot that makes your thighs tremble.

but he doesn’t let you stay quiet for long.

“no hiding,” he murmurs, tugging your hair back so your mouth parts in a gasp. “you wanted this, didn’t you? you wanted them to hear who makes you feel like this.”

his fingers thrust faster. your hips chase it. your thighs are already shaking.

“say it.”

you blink, dazed. “say what?”

he pulls out — all the way — and slaps your pussy with his soaked fingers once, sharp and wet, before slipping them right back in.

“say who owns this tight little cunt.”

you cry out. not loud. but loud enough.

he grins. “louder.”

"you do," you gasp. “fuck, you do.”

"yeah, baby,” he breathes, curling his fingers again, voice turning ragged. “that’s right. your pussy’s mine. your mouth, your moans, every single drop that drips down your thighs—it all belongs to me.”

you feel it building now — thick and heavy in your stomach, the tension winding tight as your hips roll on their own, trying to chase that high. and xiaojun can feel it too — he knows your body better than you do. he knows what your breath sounds like when you're close. what your thighs feel like when they clench. what that little sob in your throat means.

so he stops.

you freeze, body thrumming, painfully close.

"what—?”

he grabs your chin, makes you look at him again.

“you wanna cum, baby?”

you nod. frantically.

“then ride me.”

your mouth parts, brain glitching. but he’s already tugging himself free, dragging his cock out from the waistband of his sweats, already hard and dripping, head flushed dark pink. your breath catches.

you don’t even hesitate.

you line yourself up with shaking hands, panties still pushed to the side, and sink down slow — inch by inch — choking on a soft moan when the stretch hits you full. his hands grip your hips, eyes locked on the way you take him.

“fuck,” he hisses. “that’s it. take it all, baby. let them hear you.”

you rock forward, then back — slow at first, testing — and he just watches, blown out and stunned, like he wants to burn the sight of you onto his skin.

you ride him slow, slick and messy, the obscene sounds of it echoing between the soft moans you try and fail to bite back. he lets you build it yourself, lets you take your time bouncing on his cock while his hands roam your body, pulling your shirt up, kissing your chest, sucking at the skin beneath your collarbone where the others won’t see—but will definitely hear.

“you sound so fucking pretty when you ride me,” he groans, voice thick now. “you gonna cum on my cock, baby? gonna soak me in front of them?”

“yes,” you gasp, grinding down with more pressure. “yes, jun, please—”

he grabs the back of your neck, yanks your mouth down to his again.

"then do it. cum for me, baby. let them hear what it sounds like when you fall apart on something only i get to touch."

that’s all it takes. the words, the pressure, the angle — you break with a strangled moan against his lips, pussy clenching around him as your thighs tremble. and he holds you through it, arms wrapped tight around your waist, whispering filth into your ear the entire time.

"look at you. such a good girl. riding my cock like it’s the only thing you know how to do."

you slump against his chest, ruined.

he isn’t done.

he thrusts up into you once, slow and deep, and groans.

"you think i’m gonna stop now?" he growls. “nah, baby. not when you’ve already made a mess all over me.”

"j-jun, they’re still—"

"let them fucking listen.”

he kisses your throat, then thrusts again.

“you’re not going anywhere until i fill you up.”

you’re still trembling when he flips you forward.

not rough — no, xiaojun’s never rough without reason — but enough to catch you off guard, to drag a breathy sound out of your lips when your chest hits the couch and he spreads your legs from behind. your panties stay pushed to the side, the fabric now soaked and sticking, and your thighs are glistening where your orgasm spilled down them.

he growls at the sight. "you ride my cock and make a mess like that,” he mutters, gripping your hips, “and you think i’m gonna stop there?”

you can’t even respond. you try — a weak sound, a wordless protest — but then he sinks back into you, thick and hot and already pulsing, and your mouth falls open on a silent moan instead. he doesn’t start slow this time.

he fucks into you hard, steady, deep enough that the slap of skin against skin echoes down the hall. you try to move, to muffle the sounds, but he leans over you, voice dark and filthy at your ear.

“stay still. take it like a good girl.”

his hand tangles in your hair again, yanking just enough to arch your back. his cock hits deeper that way, and you sob into the cushion. it’s too much — the angle, the filth, the fact that any second now, someone could walk past and hear you being ruined like this.

“you love that, huh?” he pants. “being fucked stupid right where they can hear it. right where they can smell it next time they sit down.”

he’s feral now. his cock is coated in you, soaked and sliding deep with every thrust, the slap of it loud and messy. and you’re already close again, dizzy from the stretch and the pace, from the way he doesn’t even try to be quiet anymore.

“you think they’d fuck you this good?” he growls. “huh? think they’d ruin this pussy like i do?”

you cry out, helpless, hips pushing back into his without thinking.

he slaps your ass, hard. then does it again, groaning.

“answer me, baby.”

“no—fuck, jun, no,” you sob. “only you—only ever you—”

“that’s right,” he growls, voice breaking. “only me. always me.”

he grabs your jaw, drags you back by the throat to kiss you, still pounding up into you from behind as your moans catch in his mouth. you’re trembling now, whole body jerking every time he thrusts deep — and then, just when your knees nearly give out, he stops.

right on the edge.

“you wanna cum again?”

you nod fast, tears threatening.

“then tell me what you want.”

"wan' you to fill me," you gasp. "please, baby, wan' your cum—"

he groans. “yeah? you want me to breed this pussy, baby? stuff you full and let it leak out all day? let the boys see it dripping down your thighs next time you walk past them?”

you’re gone. brain-dead. nodding like a mess, whining.

and he snaps, his thrusts go brutal — hard and punishing — one hand between your legs now, rubbing your clit in tight, messy circles, and you explode within seconds, clenching so hard around him that he chokes on a moan.

he follows with a broken sound — spilling deep inside you, warm and thick and filthy, cock twitching as he thrusts all the way in and holds it.

“fuck—take it, baby. take all of it.”

you feel it flood you. feel the way he doesn’t pull out. feel the way it drips out slow and hot the second his hips finally roll back.

you didn’t hear it at first — not over the slick, obscene sound of xiaojun’s cock dragging in and out of you, or the way his breath is coming in sharp, ragged gasps behind your ear, his body pressed flush against your back, one hand curled tightly around your throat while the other is still rubbing messy circles into your clit like he’s trying to milk one more orgasm out of you.

but then it happens — a shift in the air, the quiet creak of the hallway floor just outside the room.

and just as he’s pushing all the way in again, groaning as he spills inside you, the door clicks open halfway, unnoticed at first… until a sudden, very deliberate cough slices through the thick, sex-heavy air.

your entire body goes rigid.

xiaojun stills behind you, his cock still deep inside, still twitching with the aftershocks of his release, and you both freeze — flushed, tangled together, your panties pulled to the side, your bare ass on full display to the open doorway.

your head turns slowly. you don’t want to look — don’t even want to breathe — but you can feel the eyes on you, the weight of someone very much standing there, watching, seeing everything.

and then that voice — light, teasing, laced with too much amusement to be anything but intentional.

“you done marking your territory, jun?”

ten.

you want to scream. or cry. or disappear.

but xiaojun doesn’t even flinch. instead, he laughs — low and lazy — then shifts his hips forward slightly, just enough to make you jolt and gasp where you’re still impaled on him, enough to make a wet, filthy squelch fill the silence as his cum begins to drip slowly out around the base of his cock.

he doesn’t pull out. he doesn’t even cover you. he just looks over his shoulder and grins, voice smug as hell.

“depends,” he says. “you want a closer look?”

a pause.

then ten hums, unfazed, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even from behind the doorframe.

“nah,” he replies. “you’re doing a great job showing off already.”

and with that, you hear the soft pad of footsteps retreating back down the hallway. leaving you shaking, face-down on the couch, thighs trembling and sticky, completely full of xiaojun and more humiliated than you’ve ever been in your life.

and him?

he leans down, presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, then bites it with a smile.

“guess that answers your question, baby,” he murmurs. “they definitely noticed.”

[dina-winchester]

All Tied Up

Pairing: Dean x Reader - Established relationship

Summary: It’s late. The bunker’s quiet. You’ve been teasing Dean all night—subtle looks, the way you bent over that book, how your tongue slid over your bottom lip. And he warned you. Told you with that low, gravel-thick voice: “Careful, sweetheart. You keep that up, and I’m gonna have to remind you who you belong to.”

Warnings: PURE. SMUT. Y’ALL, bondage kink, praise, good girl kink, Dom!Dean, Sub!reader, no use of Y/N

A/N: Let me know what y’all think! Also, this is hella long and intense so please proceed with caution… I guess?😂

ー

You’ve already been kissed senseless, already flushed and aching, and now…

You heard the soft clink of metal before you felt it—cool leather wrapping around your wrist, Dean’s fingers sure and unhurried as he fastened the cuff with practiced ease.

“There,” he murmured, almost to himself, eyes dropping to where your wrist now tugged gently against the restraint. “That’s one.”

Your breath hitched. Not from fear. From the way his tone slid over your skin, rich and low like a warning wrapped in silk.

The second cuff came next. He fastened it just as slow, his fingers brushing the inside of your wrist on purpose, watching your pulse flutter beneath his touch.

“You know,” he said, looking up at you now, his voice rough with heat, “I warned you, sweetheart.”

You barely managed to speak. “Warned me about what?”

Dean gave a short, dark laugh as he pushed your arms gently above your head, hooking the cuffs into the headboard, just tight enough to keep you there, not an inch of wiggle room.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he drawled, hands sliding down your sides, “licking your lips, bending over in front of me like you don’t know what you’re doing…” His voice dropped lower, lips brushing your throat. “Yeah. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding.

“And now?” Dean leaned back just enough to look at you—eyes hot, jaw tense. “Now you’re mine to play with.”

Dean’s hands were firm on your waist as he settled you back against the bed, the soft scrape of the cuffs overhead already tightening your breath. You were spread out beneath him, wrists bound, heart hammering as he loomed above—still fully dressed, while you were down to nothing but your underwear and shirt.

That didn’t last long.

With a slow, deliberate tug, Dean pushed the fabric up, baring your stomach, then higher. He didn’t rush. He knelt back on his heels, eyes dragging over every inch of skin like it was the first time he was seeing you.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he muttered, voice thick, rough with want. “You laid out like this for me… tied up, squirming already and I haven’t even started.”

You bit your lip, breathing shallow as he pushed the shirt higher still until it bunched above your chest. And then he just stared for a second. No words. Just heat in his eyes, his hands flexing on your hips.

Then he leaned in.

The first kiss was soft, barely a brush of his lips over the swell of your breast. Then another, slower, open-mouthed, teeth just grazing before he pulled back and blew a warm breath over the damp skin. You shivered.

Dean grinned.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured. “You’re already sensitive, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Your body said everything—arching into him, straining at the cuffs when he leaned in and finally closed his mouth around one of your soft nipples. You gasped, the sound ripped straight from your throat.

His tongue moved slow at first, teasing, circling, then pulling the bud gently between his lips and sucking just hard enough to make your hips twitch. Your fingers clenched instinctively, wrists tugging in protest—you needed to touch him, needed more but all you could do was lie there and take it.

Dean groaned low against your skin, clearly feeling the way your body responded. “You’re gonna be a mess before I even get down there,” he muttered, switching sides, giving the same attention to the other bud, drawing soft, desperate gasps from you with every drag of his tongue.

Your back arched again, hands twisting in the restraints, the need to touch him so intense it was almost painful. “Dean—please,” you breathed, voice cracking.

That earned you a smirk. “Oh, you wanna rush this? Not how it works, sweetheart.”

He slid a hand down your thigh, squeezing. “When I say you get to come, you thank me. When I say beg? You beg. You give me everything.”

His hands slid under your back, lifting you slightly so he could mouth across your chest, down your ribs, his stubble leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Each kiss lower sent a wave of anticipation rolling through you but he still didn’t go where you were begging for him to go.

He was drawing it out. On purpose. Making you writhe, whimper, fists curling tighter with every second.

And Dean? Dean was eating it up.

He bent down, kissing the inside of your knee. “Understand?”

You nodded, breath catching. “Yes, Dean.”

His eyes flicked up, voice low. “Try again.”

Your voice came out smaller, but no less sure. “Yes, sir.”

That made him pause, made something dark flash in his eyes. His hand slipped between your legs, barely touching, teasing, dragging slow circles that made you squirm.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

Then he pulled away, just enough to shrug off his shirt. Muscles flexing, body golden and solid in the soft light. He looked like sin and salvation all wrapped into one.

And when he leaned back down, mouth hot against your collarbone, one hand bracing the bed beside your head, the other trailing fire down your ribs, he whispered, “now hold still, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time breaking you in.”

You tried to breathe steady but that was a joke. Not with Dean dragging his mouth over your skin like he owned every inch of it. Not with your wrists bound above your head, muscles tightening every time his hand moved lower, then not quite there.

He was making a damn show of it. Warm, calloused fingers skimming down your stomach, sliding just under the waistband of your underwear just enough to make you arch.

“Easy,” he murmured, palm pressing lightly to your hip to still you. “You don’t move unless I tell you to.”

You let out a shaky breath, fingers flexing in the cuffs. “You’re being mean…”

That earned you a deep, wicked grin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

His hand disappeared altogether, leaving you empty and aching, but his mouth—his mouth kept going. He kissed his way down your ribs, biting gently at your side, sucking at your hip just long enough to leave a mark.

Then he sat back, just watching you. Chest heaving. Skin flushed. Legs twitching from all the attention and none of the relief.

“Look at you,” he said, voice low, approving. “Tied up and needy already. I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“You have,” you whispered, squirming a little.

He tilted his head, that sharp little smirk returning. “Not where you want it, though. Not where you’re dying for it.”

Then, finally, he hooked his fingers in your underwear and dragged them slow down your legs, leaving you completely bare under him.

But instead of going straight for what you were begging for, Dean paused again, his hands gripping your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow circles just to keep you twitching.

“You want me to touch you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, Dean, please.”

“You want me to ruin your pretty pussy with my fingers?” His voice dipped, hot and slow. “Get you soaked just from that?”

You whined, unable to stop the sound. “Yes. Please. I’ll do anything.”

Dean leaned down, nose brushing the inside of your thigh, breath ghosting over your clit, but still avoiding it.

“No, baby,” he murmured. “Tonight you don’t do anything. You just take it.”

He moved then, one hand sliding under your thigh, pushing it up and out, spreading you open so he could settle between your legs. He kissed the inside of your thigh again. Another kiss, closer. Then another one, even closer.

You whimpered, trying to rock your hips up but his grip tightened instantly.

“What’d I say about moving?” His voice turned sharp, commanding. “Wanna be good for me, or do I need to tie your legs too?”

That made you stop breathing for a second. Dean felt it. Smirked. Nuzzled just above your clit, maddeningly slow.

“Say it,” he ordered, looking up at you from between your thighs. “Tell me you’ll behave.”

Your voice came out broken, desperate. “I’ll behave.”

“Good girl.”

Then, finally, his mouth lowered, and that first, devastating swipe of his tongue sent you straight into a spiral.

You gasped at the first stroke of his tongue, head falling back, wrists instinctively yanking at the cuffs above you. But the leather didn’t budge. You were bound tight, completely at his mercy—and God, he knew it.

Dean hummed low against you, smug, satisfied. “That’s right… squirm for me.”

You let out a broken moan, body twisting, fingers curling into helpless fists. All you wanted was to reach down—bury your hands in his hair, pull him closer, do something—but the restraints held firm, a cruel reminder of who was in charge tonight.

Dean glanced up, watching the way your arms flexed, how your hands clenched and uncurled. He dragged his tongue slowly across your pussy, then pulled back just far enough to breathe:

“Wanna touch me, huh?”

You nodded frantically, voice cracking. “Yes, Dean, please, let me—”

“Nah,” he rasped, licking his lips. “Not yet. Not ‘til you’re shaking for me.”

Then he leaned back in, mouth warm and firm, tongue moving in slow, devastating patterns against your clit. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, thumbs digging in, holding you open like he owned you.

You cried out again, wrists tugging harder, nails biting into your palms. “Dean, please—”

“Shh,” he murmured, voice low, wrecked. “You just lie there. Take it like a good girl.”

Your whole body trembled, nerves drawn taut, each flick of his tongue a tease and a promise. And through it all, your arms ached with the need to reach for him—your fingers desperate, shaking, fists clenching like they could somehow will him closer.

Dean growled low in his throat, felt your whole body react to it and then wrapped his arms under your thighs, holding you tighter, pressing his mouth harder.

You let out a strangled, wrecked sound—so close it hurt, completely at his mercy, and loving every damn second of it.

His mouth was everywhere—lips dragging and sucking at your clit, tongue teasing, every motion purposeful, like he knew how wrecked he was making you. Like he was proud of it.

You were so close, the pressure inside you coiling tight, your hips starting to twitch in rhythm with every stroke of his tongue. Your breath hitched. Your fingers clenched into fists against the cuffs.

And then he stopped.

You let out a broken sob. “Dean—why—”

He looked up at you, mouth slick, eyes dark and steady.

“What’s the rule, sweetheart?” he asked softly, like he wasn’t already driving you insane.

You whimpered, squirming in frustration. “I have to ask.”

“That’s right.” His thumb slid down your clit slowly, pressing just enough to make you gasp. “So ask.”

“Please,” you breathed, chest heaving, “please can I come, sir?”

His smile was wicked, but there was warmth in it too. Approval. Possession.

“Attagirl.”

Then he was back on you—tongue working fast and deep, fingers pressing and curling inside you with perfect, punishing rhythm. It was too much, too good, and when you finally shattered, it was with a cry you couldn’t hold back, your whole body arching into the release.

Dean didn’t let up.

“That’s it,” he whispered, voice thick with pride, mouth never leaving you. “That’s my girl.”

He held you through it, hand firm on your waist, grounding you as you shook and gasped and whimpered his name like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

He stayed between your thighs a moment longer, just breathing against your skin, listening to every soft, broken sound falling from your lips.

And then he pushed up onto his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving your face.

“Still tied up,” he muttered, voice low and ragged. “Still shaking. And you think I’m gonna be gentle now?”

You didn’t even have time to answer, he was already undoing his belt, already freeing his cock with a low, desperate groan. You caught a glimpse of him in the low light—thick, flushed, hard—and your body clenched in response, still twitching from the aftershocks he’d pulled from you.

“Dean,” you whimpered, “I can’t—”

“Yeah, you can.” His hands gripped your hips, fingers sinking in. “You’re gonna take it, sweetheart. Just like my good girl should.”

And then he pushed in—slow but deep, every inch dragging through the slick heat he’d worked you into. The stretch made your back arch off the mattress, wrists straining in the cuffs.

You gasped. “Dean—too much—I’m too sensitive—”

“I know,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder as he bottomed out, his breath warm against your skin. “I know, baby. And you feel so fuckin’ good like this.”

He pulled back, just to slam back in again, hard enough to shake the bed frame, and your moan was ragged, high and helpless.

He set a rhythm then—relentless, deep and steady, hips rolling with power and control and a hunger he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You hear that?” he rasped, one hand cupping the side of your face. “That’s how wet you still are for me. That’s how much you need me.”

Your fingers clenched into fists again, shoulders tightening.

“Please Dean, I need to touch you—baby, please.”

He groaned, deep and guttural, and then, finally, he leaned over you, his hands finding the cuffs and releasing one, then the other, lips brushing your cheek as he worked.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured. “Grab on. I wanna feel you hold onto me when you come for me again.”

Your hands were on him the second the cuffs gave way, fingers curling into his shoulders, nails dragging down his back. And God, the sound Dean let out—deep, guttural, wrecked—it only spurred you on.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rocking into you harder now, deeper, your legs trembling around his waist. “Hold onto me, sweetheart. Just like that.”

You were still so sensitive, every thrust sending sparks skittering down your spine, but it didn’t stop you from pulling him in closer, moaning against his jaw, whispering breathless praise into his skin.

“You’re so deep, Dean, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was strained, thick with effort. “You’re takin’ it so goddamn well.”

Your hips rolled to meet his, greedy and desperate, and his hand slid between your bodies again, finding your clit with the kind of precision that only he had.

You cried out, tightening around him, and he felt it—head dropping, breath catching.

“Fuck, baby, do that again,” he grunted. “Squeeze me like that—shit—”

You were gone. Overstimulated, gasping, dizzy from how much he gave you but still chasing it. Still needing more.

Dean kissed you hard, deep and messy, swallowing your whimpers as he kept pounding into you, no sign of stopping.

“I can feel you,” he rasped against your lips. “Clenching like you wanna come again. You gonna do it for me?”

You nodded wildly, hands in his hair now, tugging, anchoring.

“Then look at me when you do. I want your eyes on mine when you fall apart again.”

Your breath caught. Your body coiled tight. And when it finally snapped, it was with him, his name spilling from your lips, your hands gripping him like a lifeline as your whole world went white.

And Dean—Dean lost it with you, hips stuttering, a low growl tearing from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt and finally gave in.

“Good girl,” he breathed, voice rough, reverent, his body shuddering with the force of it. “So fuckin’ good for me.”

Your breath was still catching in little gasps, your thighs trembling, your body boneless beneath him but you managed to tip your head up, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice all wrecked and warm and sweet. “Fuck, Dean… thank you.”

His chest rose with a sharp breath—and he smirked, slow and smug, like your words went straight to his cock. Still twitching inside you.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his nose brushing yours, hand cradling your cheek now. “Always so polite after I’ve fucked you stupid.”

You let out a breathless laugh, arms tightening around him, and he shifted just slightly—still inside you, still thick and hard and unmoving—just to watch you gasp again.

“You keep sayin’ thank you like that,” he drawled, “and I’m not gonna last ten minutes before I start thinkin’ about round two.”

You smiled against his throat. “Good. That was the idea.”

He kissed your temple, one hand stroking your thigh lazily. “Then I hope you’ve got more gratitude left in you, sweetheart… ’cause I’m not done earning it.”

[s0fter-sin]

rewatching s1 and in ep2 w*ndigo, dean makes a joke about not bringing provisions into the woods just to pull out a bag of peanut butter m&m’s and stick with me here, it’s why the later seasons’ “goofy dean” loses me

this moment is clearly a joke but if you think about it too much, it also makes some sense; a family size bag of peanut m&m’s is calorie dense and even the high sugar is good to keep you moving which they need on an overnight hunt. it also shows how due to their upbringing, they’ve had to eat lower quality food, things they always had access to that was cheap and also in bulk

what does dean eating ghost pepper jerky then tipping water on himself exist for other than to be a cringy joke? what does smelling old chinese food, testing to see if it's still good then shaking his head with cabbage hanging out his mouth when it isn't serve? it's just to make him look stupid and contrast sam's healthy/clean diet (and superiority but that’s another conversation) which has always existed but it used to be nuanced and natural

we see dean as a child give up the food he wanted to eat so sam could eat it. (“i’m sick of spaghetti-os,” “you’re the one who wanted them,” … “i want lucky charms!” “… there’s only enough for one bowl and i haven’t had any yet!” proceeds to give them to sam, 1x18) we know he hustled and stole food to ensure sam ate. (“so, what’d he take?” “get this- peanut butter and bread.” 9x07)

we also see throughout the early seasons dean teasing sam about his salad or healthy choice while he eats some form of burger or other fast food (or notably, cheerfully eating prison food that sam won’t touch, 2x19). it's typical sibling teasing but it also shows that it isn't new for sam to eat like that and for dean to know he eats like that

sam being picky isn't just a character trait they chose for him, it's a result of how dean raised him; he raised him to like and want healthy food and be food secure enough to reject food he didn't want

but dean eats anything he is given and seeks out unhealthy - cheap, plentiful, filling - food

he is the opposite of picky to the point of it being a consistent bit; they show him multiple times eating when it's socially frowned upon to do so eg. questioning a grieving victim when they're trying to be discreet (1x14, 2x15, 2x18)

a similar moment to the chinese food is in 4x19; dean wakes up in the car while sam brushes his teeth outside and is hungry. sam says there's a sandwich in the backseat, dean smells it and recoils bc it's an old tuna sandwich. the moment is funny on its own but it also exists as a comparison of their lives to adam's; he has a loving mother, goes to school and importantly, a steady stable childhood

it’s a joke with a purpose

it also supports dean's food insecurity; he wakes up and is immediately hungry, enough to complain about it and seek out food before anything else

dean is always hungry bc he never has access to nutritionally rich foods bc he got used to using the money he earned to buy sam's more expensive food. he got used to his cheaper, denser foods and grew up with (and continues to live with) intermittent access to said foods. think of how long it takes to drive from one state to another; how many hours it can take to see another town that offers food, if you arrive at a reasonable enough time for anything to be open. also think how they can’t keep any food beyond what fits in an esky; nothing that needs defrosting, nothing can be heated up. it’s bags and jars and take out for as long as they can trust it

then they get the bunker which has its own kitchen

dean even describes himself as "nesting" when he decorates his room, something he hasn't had since he was four years old, and he uses said kitchen to cook a burger from scratch that he is proud of. he is food secure for the first time in his life and it shows in how often he cooks for both himself and sam

so these moments where they have him acting goofy regarding food are no longer character driven and only exist as a joke which is why they come across as cringy and out of character compared to similar earlier moments

a lot of my issues with dean's characterisation started when they introduced the bunker. the argument can and is made that the reason these jokes happen is bc he feels safe in the bunker, that bc he now has a home he can relax and unmask but that still doesn't feel sufficient. they crank up these sillier moments for both of them, giving them a sort of playing house comedy vibe of two roommates with completely different personalities but it doesn't feel like an authentic progression. it feels forced; an attempt at humour for humour's sake

food stopped being an informed part of their characters and their trauma and instead became flanderised; sam is the judgy vegetarian health nut and dean is his borderline slovenly carnivore counterpart

[tohruies]

hi hi mrs yao !!!! christmas is coming up, are you going to celebrate anythinf with xiangli ? :33 btw, since miss coco doesnt have a tree, here's a little something to say thank you for being one of my lovely moots 🥺

oh! 😁 hi hello mr puppetgear! 😁 christmas celebrations with xiangli you ask! 😁 well actually! 😁 you see, i was th— *dies upon seeing the image you’ve attached to this ask* 😳😲🤯😱😱😱😵💀🪦

[simcardiac-arrested]

an artist’s struggle

[mildcicada]

[freakalot]

gojo hates condoms ☆

not even in an ‘i can’t feel a thing’ frat-fuck way either. he just wants to be close to you. he’s touch starved as it is and being inside of you is quite literally the closet he can be to you. why would he want a barrier between his achy length and your silken walls?

he hates condoms. hates them like they’re pointing south on his moral compass. hates them like they hurt to use—which they do, in a way—the mental anguish feels real to him, at least. he picks up a fuss in the grocery store when you pull a pack of ribbed condoms from the shelf to try because why would you seek pleasure from artificial ridges when the protruding veins of his cock would feel just as good if not dressed in a condom?

sometimes he eats you out for twice as long as usual to get you really fucked out and dumb. he’ll make you cum hard and fast and so much that your mind is a mess in the hopes that you’ll forget all about your safety precautions and let him feel you from the inside out. but you always catch on. with a tsk and a finger pointed to the draw where he keeps the horrid things out of sight.

so when you let him fuck you raw for the first time, gojo is reeling. it’s on the condition that he promises to pull out, and promise he does—with a pinky finger hooked around yours and his lips to his thumb—he promises to pull out.

he decides on missionary, because as much as he loves the hundred different positions he knows how to wrangle you into, he wants to connect with you. to make love, not fuck.

and even your wetness against his tip is enough to jolt his stomach downwards. collecting your glossing over his angry head as he rubs himself up and down your folds—he would cum just like this if he wasn’t so stuck on feeling all of you. you’re warm and wet and tight as he pushes against your entrance and oh god he’s going to cum already.

“oh,” he stills, eyes deadset on yours as he slides into you. his tip is rubbing against that spot that makes your back arch upwards and it takes everything in you not to laugh at the distraught look on his face as he says “i have to pull out.”

“you’re joking, right?”

“i really wish i was baby,” he looks pained. he’s never felt something so heavenly and ungodly at the same time. he wants to do bad things, to fuck you into the mattress and breed you full of himself until you’re too weak to care about the aftermath of such recklessness. “i can’t pull out.”

“what?” you laugh, his balls tighten at the sound.

“if i move—” satoru has never looked so serious, “—i will cum. this was a bad idea. why would you let me do this?”

“you’re the one always—”

“actually don’t argue with me, you know what it does to me.” he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on anything other then the way you feel around him. he does math in his head, thinks about the people he’s killed, how much he loves you… how pretty you look right now… growing old with you.

“i swear you’re getting harder inside of—”

“imsorryiloveyoubutpleasebequietorelseyouaregoingtogetpregnant.”

it takes him a minute of mental gymnastics to feel confident enough to start slowly sliding out of you, but all hope dies when the heel of your foot presses against his ass and with a smile made of sin you pull him deeper inside of you.

he opens his mouth to protest, to tell you he is not joking and all that comes out is a beautiful strangled moan that makes you tighten around him. for a man who claims to be the strongest he is rather weak-willed when it comes to your pussy. he needs to cum so hard that it hurts, but a fear of maybe ruining your life and relationship digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“don’t do this to me,” he whines.

but you’re smiling. you’re so tight and wet and beautiful and everything he’s ever dreamt of having and holding and you’re smiling. “satoru,” you say, and he’s weak. “cum inside.”

anything for you. it’s gorgeous: the way he lets loose, falling forward to press all his weight into you as he groans and his balls release in hot spurts that you can feel painting your insides white. it’s the connection, the intimacy, the tears that prick at his eyes.

and he doesn’t pull out. no, he presses his hips forward to fuck his cum as deep into you as he possibly can and he vows to throw out every condom in the goddamn house.

god he hates condoms.

part 2

[snekdood]

bitches prolly out here psychoanalyzing my old art on behalf of my abuser to cushion their belief that im a Horrible Person but then dont see the irony when I point out the shitty things my abuser has drawn and how I see it as clear evidence of their mindset and beliefs (of what's okay to do and how to treat people) descending and pairing that along with everything else they've done and it paints a clear picture of how this person got to the point of thinking it was okay to abuse me the way they did and then the people looking for reasons to hate me through my art will act like "they're just drawings !!!" about their art. which one is it. does someones art say something about them or not? or does it only say something about them if you hate them?

[nanaslutt]

!! minors and ageless blogs dni, you will be blocked !! 18+ only !!

virgin!sukuna who makes you sit on top of him and take him yourself for his own entertainment because he knows how big he is compared to your hole, but what he doesn’t expect is how insanely tight and hot it is inside you when his tip pushes in

his expression would give nothing away, he would want you to think you’re the one getting tortured by this, but inside his brain completely blank and his eyes are transfixed on the way your tiny hole stretches around him and swallows him up so greedily. bliss like he’s never felt tickles down his spine, and his balls draw up, already preparing to cum inside

he’s secretly grateful you need a break once you get it all in, disguising his own impending orgasm by chastising you for needing a break saying, “you are such a weak human” and “that’s all you could take?” when really, if you so much as rolled your hips down on him he would blow his load

he takes the opportunity to rub your clit while you stay sitting on him, once again trying to torture you with the intense pleasure, but he’s just trying to get you to come first in case he isn’t able to hold back when you start moving. once your orgasm crashes over you and he feels your walls squeeze around him and your insides somehow get softer and wetter, he realizes his jaw is seconds from cracking from how hard he’s biting down on his teeth trying not to explode at the most immense pleasure he’s ever felt

[yukioos]

hello! So far you have made really good post, and it made me think, what if you made one about bakugou x y/n, they JUST started making out and started this thing where after class and even the cafeteria hours they would go to the roof top and make out, and then come back to class and act like nothing ever happened. Also somtimes he would throw a paper and secretly desk her under the desk where they would meet up. 😍

when katsuki wants to make out during class

something soft hit your back, causing some giggles to be heard from around you. you raised your eyebrow, and when mister aizawa faced the chalkboard, you turned around to see nothing. a hand waved in front of your face, kaminari’s hand, to be exact, and his finger then pointed at the ground.

a crumpled-up ball of paper lay on the ground, so you bent over to grab it, opening the paper under your desk. maybe it had something in it. on on page, nothing was there, so you turned it to see the words ‘ask to fill up your water bottle’ with a little explosion drawing at the end, which is how you figured out it was katsuki who wrote the note.

you grinned and raised your hand, throwing the paper into your backpack.

mister aizawa finally turned back to you and asked, “yes?”

“can i please fill up my water bottle?” you held it up and shook it, and when no sloshing around was heard, he nodded.

you picked it up and walked outside the classroom, katsuki soon followed behind after he asked to go to the bathroom. he stomped after you, placing your water bottle next to the fountain before giving you a sly smile and gripping your hip. he shoved his lips onto yours and softly groaned, kissing you repeatedly, strings of saliva still connecting your lips after parting for a short period.

he lifted up your thigh, pressing it against his hip as he continued to kiss you. words haven’t even been spoken yet, but it was clear what the two of you needed.

even after that, he continued to ask you to leave during class or lunch to spend time with you. he didn’t just love you for your body, he didn’t just want pleasure, he wanted you as a person. katsuki knew he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions or love for people in a healthy way, but this was the only way he felt he could do it. it would always leave the two of you breathless, red, and even more in love.

to him, this was one of the most intimate acts someone could do, and he loved you with his whole soul. he never regretted skipping class to make out with you, besides when you heard a loud yell and chuckle from someone across the hall.

an annoyingly familiar voice rang in your ears, “hey, class 1-a! did you know two of your students, bakugo and l/n skip class just to make out in the halls?” monoma loudly chuckled, “class 1-b would never—“

he would always be smacked in the head by kendo, who would apologize and ‘leave the two of you be.’

that was one of the only times katsuki had felt embarrassed after making out with you.

hope you enjoyed this! i’m so happy you love my writing, your compliments mean the world to me. also, i gained around seven asks in one night so im trying to catch up, i apologize that i am not posting as often

[missdynamighttt]

i wholeheartedly BELIEVE that bf! katsuki would make you sit on his lap and help you do your eyeliner when you struggle with it sometimes.

you were sitting at your vanity, getting ready to go out with katsuki to meet some friends. but you were struggling with your holy grail: your eyeliner. normally you'd be able to do it perfectly but something just felt off about today.

no matter how many times you tried, the pen (or maybe your hand) just wouldn’t cooperate. the wing was either higher or thicker than the other, and it seemed noticeable.

you wipe what feels like the umpteenth failed attempt with a sigh, catching your boyfriend's attention as he lounged on your bed.

katsuki noticed the frustration on your face, silently watching as you rubbed your eye for a few seconds before finally speaking up.

"havin' trouble?" he asked, his voice monotone as usual. from his spot on the bed, he could see just how annoyed you were.

you let out a frustrated sigh as you glance at your reflection in the mirror. it morphs into a pout as you attempt your eyeliner again, determined to perfect it. "uh-huh..."

katsuki chuckled at your pouty face, getting up and approaching you from behind. he looked over you, watching the failed attempts closely as his hands brushed your shoulder.

with a sigh, he offers a hand to you. "give it here. let me do it."

you contemplated, but then you recall how katsuki's eyeliner always looked flawless. your thoughts drift back to your days in ua, remembering how he would wear his hero costume with his eyeliner to fill in the gaps of his mask.

it was always sharp, precise, you fawned over him whenever he chose to do a cat-eye that day. it didn't fail to make him look a hundred times hotter.

"alright," a soft smile spreads across your lips, handing the eyeliner pencil to him. you looked up at him, waiting for him to start tracing.

but he had other plans.

katsuki instructs you to stand up, squeezing your shoulder. "get up, sweetheart," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "i'll take the seat and you can sit on my lap."

"oh, is that so?" you grin with a hint of suspicion. "i'm starting to think you have an ulterior motive, katsuki."

despite your teasing, you comply and get up from the chair, crossing your arms as you watch him settle into the seat.

katsuki rolled his eyes, a frown on his face from your comment. "hmph. maybe i just wanna help my girl out. poor thing can't even do her eyeliner." he looks up at you, his expression softening, and pats his thigh.

"now... c'mere, sweets."

you bite your lip and nod, moving to settle, straddling him on his lap. you can feel the firmness of his thighs beneath you, his hand on your hips, steadying you as he holds your eyeliner in the other.

katsuki scoffs as a subtle blush appears on his face, watching as you settle yourself on top of him. he wraps one of his strong arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

he was pretty close to you, reaching up to brush some hair out of your face. he hummed, gently angling your head, positioning your chin to get a better look.

"so..." he mumbles, studying your face for a moment, as if imagining the art he would put in his canvas. "stay still. i need to focus."

"or what?" you'll get a boner?"

"shut it, brat. you want me to do this or not?"

he scoffs as you nodded up at him with a cheeky grin, taking hold of the pen and bringing it up to your eyes.

"tch. remember what i said. stay. still."

katsuki carefully starts drawing the line, using his free hand to gently hold the skin around your eye.

he really does try his best to keep his cool. but its hard when he can feel your breath on his face, the warmth of your body, and your gaze. it's distracting as hell, but he keeps himself focused on the task at hand.

he's determined to perfect your eyeliner.

you couldn't help but watch him. the experience felt oddly intimate, despite doing way more explicit stuff with him. he's so focused, a look of intense concentration on his face as the eyeliner glides across your eyelid. it was kind of cute.

katsuki bites his tongue as he moves onto the other eye. he notices you staring at him, but he tries his best to ignore it. he doesn't want to mess up this eyeliner because of a simple, silly distraction.

but he would be lying if he said his heart didnt skip a beat. he takes a deep breath and continues, trying to steady his hand.

"quit starin', sweetheart."

"i'm not! where am i even supposed to look?"

you scoff, but make a conscious effort to keep your face still, avoiding any sudden movements so katsuki wouldn't suddenly smudge his work.

he huffs, adjusting you in his lap, inadvertently pulling you closer. your scent was driving him crazy, and the feeling of you on his lap was starting to get him worked up. it was becoming difficult to focus.

"anywhere else. pay attention to somethin' else."

"likeeeee?"

katsuki lets out a sharp breath and tries to distract himself. but it wasn't working.

the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to bend you over on the vanity and do unspeakable things to you. but no, he couldn't. he needed to finish this damn eyeliner first. and go out with a few friends before he has you for the rest of the night.

"i don't know. the ceiling, the damn wall... just somethin' that isn't me."

"aww, how come? you're not getting distracted from this, are you?"

his breath hitches as you tease him again. damn it. damn this woman. he was doing good on keeping it together until you started talking, but now it was getting difficult.

katsuki doesn't respond right away, he's too focused on your goddamn eyeliner, trying to ignore the feeling of you in his lap. he focuses intently on getting it right. but he could feel the heat starting to pool in his pants. he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

a tiny smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but you suppressed it, holding back the urge to annoy katsuki further. you waited patiently as he continues to draw the line, the pen gliding smoothly on your eyelid. you were super eager to tease him more.

katsuki finally finishes the last stroke, his hand shaking slightly as he puts the pen down. he tries to keep a neutral expression, but the heat in his face betrays him. he lets out a shaky breath and looks up at you, his eyes darkening as he locks eyes with you.

"there," he mutters, his voice hoarse. "finished it."

your eyes twinkled with appreciation as you looked at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at his handiwork.

his work never failed to amaze you. his hand always such precision that made it great for things like this. you spun around to face katsuki, a giddy smile on your lips.

"oh my god, katsuki! you did an amazing job. holy shit, i look like a million bucks!" you leaned in and planted a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek, grinning widely. "seriously, i'm like, ten times hotter now! you're a genius!"

katsuki lets out a soft gasp when you kiss him, his blush deepening. he was relieved to finally be done with the eyeliner so he could put his focus elsewhere. he was happy you're happy. but now he has an entirely different problem... "yeah... i know. you look gorgeous, sweetheart. always do."

he swallows hard, his eyes focused on yours. he doesn't say anything at first, letting out a shaky breath as he processes how hot you look right now. all he wants to do is fuck you right there, show you how much he likes your eyeliner, but he's trying to hold himself back. he's not sure how long he'll succeed, though.

you notice katsuki staring off into space, head titled as a hint of concern crosses your features. you called out his name gently, voice laced with a note of amusement. "katsuki? baby, you with me?"

katsuki hums in response, his hands gripping your hips a little harder. he can feel himself getting more heated, your voice making him feel almost dizzy with desire. "mhm?"

as katsuki shakes his head and snaps back to reality, your can't help but bite your lip, suppressing a smile.

"you okay? you looked like a deer in headlights."

he lets out a sharp breath, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck. he knows you've noticed how riled up he is right now.

this is going to be harder than he thought.

"m'fine. just... just give me a second.."

a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you brush your fingers through his hair, affectionately playing with the strands. you smirk at his question, a hint of playful sarcasm lacing your voice.

"okay... for what, though? what you thinking about, tough guy?"

katsuki lets out a shudder at your touch, his grip on your hips tightening a bit more. you're a wicked, wicked woman to him. he lifts his head up to look at you again, his eyes roaming your body.

he can't even form a coherent thought, your touch sending jolts of heat straight through his body. this was not the time for you to play coy.

"you.. god, you.. need to stop that."

"stop what?"

he can feel his patience thinning rapidly. you're driving him wild, he has to do something about this.

"stop.. touchin' me," he mutters, his hand moves to grip your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from his hair.

you feign disappointment, lower lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. you looked at him with a feigned look of dejection, gently shifting your weight as if preparing to leave his lap. "aww, okay. i guess i could get off your lap... but i was getting comfortable, y'know..."

katsuki immediately grabs your hips, anchoring them underneath him, stopping you.

"no. stay."

he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes looking up at yours. he's desperately trying to keep his cool, but his eyes are practically filled with lust. his body is aching for you, the heat in his stomach is slowly becoming uncomfortable.

he buries his head back in the crook of your neck. his hands rub your hips, squeezing the flesh softly, but with a firm pressure.

"i just need a damn minute."

you let out a soft, playful chuckle, enjoying how flustered he looks as you shift your weight in his lap, grinding against his crotch a little.

"for what? for it to go down?"

katsuki lets out a low, guttural moan against your neck when you do that, his grip on your hips tightening as his body responds to your touch. his head is clouded with a fog of lust, and he honestly can't think straight.

"shit.. stop that, jesus..." he whimpers out, his hands grabbing at your hips and holding you in place so you can't move. "for the love of god, stop movin' like that or i'll.."

"c'mon, katsuki.." you giggle softly, your voice is soft and sultry as you lean in, hot breath tickling his ear. "can we have some fun?"

your hands trail down his thighs, your touch sending shivers down his spine as you rubs and caress his legs, hands dangerously near his crotch.

katsuki shivers from the touch, his thighs muscles tensing under your touch. he lets out a shaky breath, trying desperately to find the willpower to resist you. but he's losing the battle faster than he knows.

he's completely at your mercy.

"we... we can't.. we have to leave soon.." he groans, his hands slowly traveling up your side and to your chest, his fingers rubbing against the soft flesh. "sweets, we're gonna end up skippin' the whole damn thing if you don't cut it out.."

you look up at him, biting your lip in anticipation. your hand dips beneath his waistband, fingers teasing along the sensitive ache in between his legs.

"can we be a little late, katsuki? please...?" you purr, your other hand tracing lazy circles across his chest.

katsuki lets out a deep moan as you touch him, his hips bucking slightly into your hand. his head falls back as you trail kisses down his jaw, his self-control starting to break. this is torture. pure, blissful torture.

your hand moves lower, gently fondling his length through the fabric. "just a few minutes..."

katsuki's breath hitches at the contact, he lets out a loud gasp and throws his head back at the feeling. his fingers dig into your side slightly as his body tenses up. he can barely focus on anything else besides your touch.

"goddamnit... f-fine, but only... only for a few minutes."

that was what katsuki said before he bent you over your vanity. needless to say, it wasn't just "a few minutes".

you were 2 hours late.

but even with your sex hair™, your clothes wrinkled and your disheveled look: your eyeliner still looked flawless.

and you had your boyfriend to thank for that.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ super self-indulgent as an eyeliner girlie oml 😞😞 sorry for the lack of smut, been struggling with school lately and i wanted to feed you guys!! to the people requesting, pls read that i cant accept them rn 😭 tysm!!

[lqveharrington]

The Alchemy | D.M.

summary: Although Draco promised that he would keep your relationship a secret just for you, he can’t contain himself after winning the Hogwarts quidditch cup.

pairing: draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader

includes: FLUFF, established relationship (and a last name of Evergreen for the reader)

a/n: inspired by the olympics recently ❤️

When Draco asked you out in fourth year, you thought it was a joke. Sure, you were both acquainted due to your pure wizardry bloodline, but you were in Hufflepuff. The only time the other houses thought you were useful was when they wanted to sneak into the kitchen. So when he came up and sat down beside you when you were studying potions, you were disheartened.

“Malfoy, please don’t do this.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You were just starting to understand what ingredients made a truth serum.

“Do what? I’m asking you if you want to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend.” He spun the Malfoy signet ring adorning his hand.

You look up at him with tired eyes, “Did someone put you up to this?”

“What? No no, I—“ He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at how you were able to fluster him with even a small glance. “I’m really asking you to go on a date with me.”

You search his face for any indication of a lie, before biting your lip softly and looking down at your parchment. “Are you really?”

“I am.” Draco dropped his hand onto yours to stop your fidgeting with the quill.

You felt your own face heat up at the notion. He thumbed your palm softly as you stayed quiet, not minding his closeness. Finally, you looked up at him, “You have yourself a date, Malfoy.” He sent you a soft smile but before he could say anything else, you interrupted. “Please don’t let me down.”

Draco never let you down. Despite your earlier doubts, you saw how kind and thoughtful the Malfoy heir was underneath his hardened shell his father had built around him. In private, he was always attentive, loving, clingy — there wasn’t a moment where he was separated from you. In public, he had to rein in those feelings just for you.

Even when you started your seventh year at Hogwarts, you were still terrified what others at school would say about a Hufflepuff dating the Slytherin Prince. Sure, his parents and your parents knew, but not the entirety of Hogwarts. You had asked Draco to keep your relationship private until you were ready to face the reality of your relationship to the rest of the world. He begrudgingly agreed, respecting your wishes; but the need to kiss you in front of the entire student body to rightly claim that you were his was wavering.

Especially when it had been three years since you first started dating. And right now, you were currently hiding below the stands together as you greeted him with good luck kisses for his final quidditch match as a student in Hogwarts.

“I.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. You say softly as he holds you close by your hips — smiling into all your kisses. “Good.” Kiss. “Luck.” Kiss.

“You’re killing me here, love.” Draco murmurs against your lips. He pulls away gently to look at your ever so loving gaze. He draws small hearts on you hip, “You done?”

“Never.” You kiss him again, hands cupping his jaw. “I want you to be stuck with me forever.”

He hums into the kiss as you thumb his cheeks softly, “I will after I win this game, my love.”

You separate again, grinning like a lovesick puppy. “Good luck, Dray. I’ll see you later.” You press one last kiss to his lips before leaving his arms and running up the Hufflepuff stands to cheer. You couldn’t deny that even after all these years he still made you giddy and red.

Draco shook his head with a soft smile only you could coax out of him. He walked out from the stands and hopped on his broom, ready in the air for his final match as Slytherin’s seeker. Cheers filled the stadium as the players took their place, captains shaking hands.

The final match for Slytherin and Gryffindor was probably the most anticipated all year round. Since it was also Harry Potter’s last game as seeker, and the two seekers were known as rivals, it was hyped up to be one of the best end matches of the season.

As the game progressed, Slytherin and Gryffindor were constantly tied. It was really up to the seekers to find the golden snitch to determine the winner. There were bets taking place in the house stands, mind fixated on earning a few galleons for the last time. For the Hufflepuff stands, they were a house divided. Many cheered for scarlet and gold while the other half cheered for green and silver.

You didn’t mind the division between your house. After all, you only watched the games for Draco. Your friends were cheering for the Gryffindors whilst you carried the small Slytherin flag in your hands — eyes trained on the blonde high above the game itself. The second you blinked from the blazing sun, Draco was soaring after the golden snitch, Harry close behind and eventually flying right next to him.

The shouts from the stands only fueled the seekers’ attention to the flying gold. Draco and Harry were chasing in circles after the snitch, attention focused on nothing else even as the bludger zoomed past them.

You held your breath as they both reach out for the snitch. Your friend held your shoulder in anticipation, watching the two closely. Before you could register what happened, she gasped and shook your shoulders in frustration.

“I lost ten galleons to that!” She sighed heavily as Draco flashed the golden snitch in the air.

The rush of the win made you scream happily with the other Hufflepuffs and houses cheering for the Slytherin team. You wear clapping your hands as the team began flying around in victory. You watched as Draco flew around the stands more as the rest of the Slytherin team settled on the grounds. His eyes scanned the stadium until they lit up when they saw you at the very front of the Hufflepuff stands — waving your Slytherin flag with pride.

“Seems like Malfoy is off showing the last snitch he’ll catch for the Slytherin quidditch team! But we all want to know where the trophy is!” The third year announcer spoke, voice casted across the stadium.

You smiled at Draco softly when you finally met his eyes. And before you knew it, he flew right over to you and cupped your face, kissing you senselessly. You grinned into the kiss as you held his cheeks, the shouts and screams from your housemates blending in your ears.

“Aw, quite a beautiful way to celebrate the win. Don’t you think so, McGonagall? Honestly, I wasn’t expecting Malfoy and Evergreen— Ow, sorry.” The third year announcer spoke once more, rubbing the spot the professor lightly hit them with a newspaper.

You part from Draco with a blinding smile, “I think I agree, this is a beautiful way to celebrate.” You say quietly only for him to hear, pressing quick kisses to his lips.

“I’m proud of you, love.” Draco nudges your nose with his to gently stop your kisses for a second — even though he did want more.

“Me? You just won the quidditch cup for your house!” You laugh while wrapping your arms behind his neck, careful in trying not to pull him off his broom.

He rubbed the apples of your cheeks, “You just let me kiss you in front of the entire student body… I think that’s more important.” He pulled you in for another mind searing kiss, making you smile helplessly.

“AGAIN?” The third year announcer shouted into the microphone once more. “Is there—“

“Alright, we’re done announcing, boys and girls.” Professor McGonagall spoke and shut the speakers off; although she was quite happy for the couple.

You giggled as he pulled you into a hug. “I love you.”

Draco pressed kisses to your cheek repeatedly, “I love you more.”

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