#it should be up tomorrow by the way so look forward to that

[im4rmy]

when he comes back from tour - OT7 (idol AU)

TW: sex, oral, shower sex, MDNI

*＊✿❀ Mark ❀✿＊*

Sex after he gets back from a trip has pretty much become a tradition for the two of you—an event you always look forward to. It’s special, too, because your very first time together happened right after he came home from a tour. So you know the drill: you’re freshly waxed, matching lingerie, the whole nine yards. This time, Mark hasn’t been away for long, but his schedule’s been so insane lately that if he’s not on a plane, he’s in the studio, and if he’s not in the studio, he’s at rehearsals. And even when you do manage to grab an evening together, he’s usually running on fumes. Saying you miss him doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You’re sprawled out on his bed, absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok, when you hear the front door open. You leap off the bed and race down the hallway, heart pounding with excitement at the thought of finally getting to hold him again. Mark looks up when he hears your footsteps and his face breaks into a tired, cheeky smile. He drops his suitcase and backpack right there on the floor and holds his arms out for you. You collide like magnets, clinging to each other. He buries his face in your hair, right by your shoulder, breathing you in like he’s trying to soak you into his soul.

"I could cry right now," he mumbles.

You chuckle, squeezing your arms tighter around his neck to pull him closer. "Yeah? Why’s that?"

"Because I missed you so much."

"You’re here now," you whisper.

He nods against your neck and hugs you even closer, gently swaying you both where you stand. After a few minutes, Mark pulls back just a little, enough to cup your cheek in his hand and look at you properly, his thumb stroking your skin.

"Y/N, I know we should—I mean, it’s kind of our thing, but..." he sighs, clearly frustrated with himself. "I’m just so wiped out."

The devastated, guilty look on his face makes you laugh softly in disbelief.

"Mark, it’s fine. I promise I’ll survive one more day without sex," you tease, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He lets out a grumbly breath and rests his forehead against your shoulder. "I’m not so sure I will."

You laugh and start massaging his shoulders, then his biceps, working your way down his back, his shoulder blades, and his ribs, making him shiver under your touch.

"I can do all the work if that’s what you need," you offer with a playful smirk.

He shakes his head. "No, I still wouldn’t make it. I seriously just need to sleep."

"Okay, baby. Let’s go to bed then."

He answers with a sleepy "mh" and lets you lead him back to the bedroom, hand in hand. While he gets ready for bed in the bathroom, you ditch the lacy bra you’d picked out and throw on an oversized T-shirt that practically swallows you whole. Were you a little annoyed you’d gone to all the trouble to shave for nothing? Sure. But having Mark back in your arms was more than enough consolation. When he finally reappears, he can barely keep his head up on his neck. It breaks your heart to see him so worn out, but you’ve learned that Mark loves what he does—so even if his body’s exhausted, his heart is full, and that’s all that matters.

You slip under the covers and hold your arms out with a smile. "Come here, baby."

Mark doesn’t need to be told twice. He flops down beside you, letting you tuck him in. You curl around each other so tightly you’re practically breathing the same air, limbs entwined like knotted ropes. Mark smiles, his eyelids heavy, and his hand slips under your T-shirt, lazily massaging your bare skin until his fingers brush your naked breast, making him sigh with contentment.

"Tomorrow morning... I'll make it up to you," he mumbles with adorable determination.

You laugh quietly at the promise in his voice and start to reply, but he’s already fast asleep. Needless to say, you woke up the next morning with his face between your thighs.

*＊✿❀ Renjun ❀✿＊*

You can’t wait for him to walk through that door. You know he’ll be exhausted, barely able to stand… but standing won’t be necessary for what you have in mind. Renjun’s been overseas for nearly a month on the U.S. tour, and all you want is to kneel down before him and show him just how much you’ve missed him. Of course, you want to cuddle him, kiss him, hold him close… but you’re ovulating, and he’s back just in time before your period begins. You have no choice. And neither does he.

So when Renjun drags himself into the apartment, suitcase in tow, you don’t even greet him with words—you just take his hand and lead him to the armchair you set up for him that afternoon. He tries to ask what you’re planning, though he already has a vague idea. That’s why he doesn’t resist when you sit him down and pull your hair up into a quick ponytail using the hair tie on your wrist. Despite the exhaustion tingling through every muscle in his body, Renjun feels anticipation knotting in his stomach—being away from you hasn’t been easy for him either. And when you look up at him with a mischievous smirk as you kneel between his parted legs, his face lights up with the most beautiful smile. Just your presence is enough to make him feel at home, loved, safe. At peace. He doesn’t say a word as you unbuckle his expensive belt and undo the buttons of his tailored pants. He stays quiet as you pull them down along with his boxers, revealing his already half-hardened arousal. Renjun takes a deep breath when you wet your lips and lean in close to his member.

“Relax, pretty boy. Let me take care of you.”

Renjun lets out a soft moan, sinking deeper into the plush chair as you wrap your hand around him—gently but firmly. His head tilts back and his hands grip the armrests.

“So sensitive… did you miss me?”

He nods, barely holding back a whimper, biting his lower lip. You giggle at the sight of him blushing, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, before finally taking it into your mouth. A long breath escapes his chest, and he looks down to meet your gaze already fixed on him. Renjun isn’t the type to push your head down, but he reaches to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

“Beautiful—” A guttural moan cuts off his compliment, sending a jolt of heat through your core, directly between tour legs. And just as his thighs begin to tense, you pull away. You can’t let him finish—not yet. You need him inside you. He groans in protest but falls silent when he sees you undressing. He watches as you shimmy out of your pants and underwear in one smooth motion, then welcomes you into his arms as you straddle his lap. You give him a moment of tenderness, smiling and finally kissing him for the first time since he returned. He melts into the kiss, hands slipping under your oversized shirt, groaning as he discovers you're not wearing a bra. You smile into the kiss, steadying yourself on your knees as you align yourself with him—finally reconnecting your bodies after so long…

“Fuck—” he gasps, fingers digging into your back.

Your moans blend with his as you move against him, quick and desperate. Feeling him beneath you, completely at your mercy, is overwhelmingly good—too good. Renjun keeps cursing softly as you ride him, chasing that long-awaited release.

“You’re so close, baby, so close—shit!”

His climax hits without warning, causing him to lift his hips, reaching deeper, and the new angle sends you over the edge too. Renjun’s eyes roll back as your warmth tightens around him, his hands gripping you tightly enough to leave marks.

As the final waves of pleasure fade, you collapse onto his chest, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Welcome home, pretty boy.”

*＊✿❀ Jeno ❀✿＊*

You had a fight before he left for his European tour, and during those weeks, you barely spoke — just enough to make sure everything was okay. And even though you still haven't fully forgiven him for that stupid outburst, you miss him like crazy. You know it, and so does he. You hadn’t made any plans for when he got back, but you knew exactly what time he’d be home. So you swallow your pride and punch in the code to his apartment. Inside, the place is silent. You don't see Jeno, but his shoes are by the door, and his suitcases are stacked against the couch. You slip off your shoes and quietly make your way toward the bedrooms. That's when you hear it — music, muffled by the sound of rushing water, coming from the bathroom.

Your heart pounds wildly, caught somewhere between excitement and nerves: what if he’s not happy to see you? What if he didn’t miss you as much as you missed him?

You step into the bathroom; the mirror is fogged up, and through the frosted glass of the shower, you can see the silhouette of Jeno's back. You take a deep breath and silently shed your clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Then you walk up to the shower and knock twice. He jumps, swearing and turning sharply, eyes wide — but his shoulders relax the second he recognizes you. He shoots you a mock glare for almost giving him a heart attack. You smile shyly and slide the door open. Jeno steps back to let you in, watching you curiously. As you stand there in front of him, water starting to bead on your skin, Jeno’s gaze travels down your body — but it isn’t lust that lights up his eyes. It's something deeper. Affection.

"I'm sorry I scared—"

"I missed you," he blurts out.

The tension melts from your body, the knot in your chest unraveling with it. Yet Jeno doesn’t move — he waits for you to make the first move. When you step forward and wrap your arms around him, he holds you close, planting a kiss on the top of your head. After a moment, you tilt your head up, and your lips meet out of pure instinct. As your tongues reacquaint themselves, his hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him, your bodies meeting, electric. A low growl rumbles from his chest as his fingers trace the curve of your spine, sending shivers across your skin. Your hands explore the lines of his extraordinary body, just feeling him, needing him. Jeno lowers himself slightly, not breaking the kiss, and lifts you by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist. His hands grip your ass like he's anchoring himself, and you devour his mouth, desperate not to drown under the running water. He chuckles when you blow wet hair out of your face, and he moves closer to the wall, pulling you away from the heavy stream. The cold tiles press against your back, making you gasp, and Jeno wastes no time — with a smooth movement of his hand, he aligns himself with you and pushes in, slow and deliberate, savoring every second of being inside you again. A strangled moan escapes his lips as he leans into you, his hips rolling in a deep, rhythmic pace that makes you melt in his arms. You cup his face between your hands, kissing him between gasping moans.

"I love you," you whisper.

Jeno opens his eyes and looks at you with that gaze that always makes you want to cry, his smile turning his eyes into two perfect little crescents.

"I love you."

The moment is so tender it almost breaks you — until Jeno thrusts into you harder, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your head fall back against the wall. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, licking and biting your skin, fanning the flames between you.

"Jeno—"

"Mmm, yes, my love?"

"I'm gonna—fuck—"

He growls as he feels you clench around him, your orgasm pulling him deeper, refusing to let him go. The thought alone pushes him over the edge, and he spills into you with a guttural sound that sends shivers across your whole body. You kiss his temple as you hold him close under the stream of water, the music playing from his phone outside the box making everything even more heavenly. He kisses your shoulder and rests his cheek against it.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," he murmurs.

You smile, running your fingers through his wet hair, messing it into a spiky little crest.

"I know, love. It’s okay."

*＊✿❀ Haechan ❀✿＊*

Haechan texted you earlier saying he’d be back today, but you two had agreed to see each other tomorrow—he was desperate for some rest. That’s why, now, almost 2 a.m., you’re buried under your blankets on the living room couch, watching your current drama obsession, dressed in your pajamas, a nearly empty bag of popcorn by your side, while your whole family sleeps upstairs. You figured Haechan would be too tired to hang out. He’s on a plane every other day, after all, so you’re just glad he gets to sleep a bit. You sigh and sit up, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV when a sudden knock knock at the front door freezes you in place.

Who the hell is knocking at this hour?

Your eyes dart around the room as you grab the first thing that could pass for a weapon—an almost empty bottle of that terrible beer your boyfriend keeps stocking your fridge with. You tiptoe toward the door and flinch when the knocking comes again, louder this time, making your stomach knot with anxiety. You peek through the peephole and frown. The figure on the porch has their face almost entirely covered—a mask pulled up high, a cap pulled low—but those glittering eyes locked on the door are unmistakable. You yank the door open and raise the bottle threateningly.

“Have you lost your mind? You scared me half to death!”

Those familiar eyes flick to your beer bottle and then back at you with a look that clearly says are you for real, girl.

“I just knocked on the door.”

“You could’ve used the key! It’s two in the morning!”

“Well, I didn’t think it was very appropriate to unlock the door to your parents’ house while everyone’s asleep.”

You eye him suspiciously until Haechan plucks the bottle from your hand and takes a swig.

“So, are you letting me in or what?”

“You said you were tired.”

“I slept.”

“And...?”

“And I wanted to see you, dummy. I’m freezing—can I come in?”

“Geez, so demanding.”

You step aside, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. The fact that he came all the way here in the middle of the night just because he wanted to see you? Your stomach erupts in butterflies. You close the door and turn to face him—just in time to watch him peel off his mask and hat, running a hand through his hair. And just like that, all the pent-up tension from weeks apart pools low in your belly. But it can’t happen. Not here, not now. Not in the living room of your parents’ house, with their bedroom right upstairs—

“Wanna have sex?”

You give him a look and roll your eyes, flopping back onto the couch. “Not a chance.”

And cue the whining. “Pleaaaase,” he drawls, crawling over to you and kneeling between your bent knees.

“No way, Hyuck. Give it up.”

“Why not?! It’s been a month... don’t you miss me at all?”

“Don’t give me that stupid pout. You can’t shut up during sex—you’ll wake up the whole neighborhood.”

He groans and collapses forward, pressing his face dramatically against your pajama-covered pelvis.

“I swear I’ll be quiet,” he mutters against you, his nose brushing dangerously close to sensitive territory.

You shiver, but try to keep your cool. Haechan has never been able to keep quiet. Still, even as you tell yourself this is a terrible idea, he tugs your pants down and presses his lips over your underwear. You jolt—more from the fact that he now knows you’re already turned on than anything else. You can feel his smug little laugh vibrate against you, and you throw an arm over your face in exasperation. Haechan takes that as a green light and slides your panties down along with your pants.

“Promise me you’ll stay quiet.”

“Of course, babe,” he mumbles, already too distracted to care.

You groan and accept defeat—there’s just no winning when he’s this insistent.

“Don’t make that face. I know you were kinda hoping for this.”

You don’t even have time to shoot back a snarky reply before he’s inside you with a slow but steady push. He exhales a soft "fuuuck", eyes fluttering shut as his hands grip your hips to draw you closer. His movements start out a little uneven, messy—no real rhythm, just raw need. The room quickly fills with the sounds of your bodies meeting, far too loud for your comfort. You grab his arm to get his attention.

“Slow down... seriously,” you whisper through gritted teeth, trying not to moan.

But he clearly doesn’t hear you—or pretends not to. He keeps moving, groaning softly. You smack his arm, earning a glare.

“Shut the fuck up, idiot! For God's sake”

He just grins and keeps going, clearly enjoying your frustration. You growl under your breath and shove him backward, hard, making him yelp as he falls back onto the couch cushions. You climb on top of him, sinking down until he’s fully inside you again. He’s about to moan—loudly—but you slap a hand over his mouth before he can make a sound. And then you ride him—desperately, purposefully—chasing your release and hoping he finishes fast. When you glance down, his eyes are wide and glassy, watching you like you using him to chase your own pleasure while you shut him up... is the hottest thing he's ever seen. The muffled moans under your palm get more intense as your body begins to tighten around him. You curse under your breath, hips stuttering. His hands slip under your pajama top, squeezing your boobs as he meets your movements with his own. His head falls back as he climaxes, and you feel his heat spread inside you—but you’re not done yet. You grab his cheeks and slip two fingers into his mouth. He starts sucking them obediently, eyes on yours like a puppy trying his best to please you. That’s what tips you over the edge—his overstimulated cock still twitching beneath you as you climax, overwhelmed and breathless.

You collapse against him, and he wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. As your breathing evens out, he strokes your back under your shirt, exhaling softly against your ear, instantly calming you. When he carefully slips out of you, you shift to lay on his chest, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. Haechan reaches down to grab the discarded blanket and drapes it over your half-naked body, pulling you closer as your limbs tangle together.

He plants a sweet kiss to your temple and whispers a gentle “I love you.”

And just like that, you fall asleep with a smile on your lips.

*＊✿❀ Jaemin ❀✿＊*

You’re halfway through your night shift when you finally get a chance to take your fifteen-minute break. You settle at the nurses' station, pull your phone out from the staff drawer, and sip on your juice. As you unlock the screen, a flood of messages from your boyfriend fills your notifications.

📱 "Where are you?"

📱 "When's your break?"

📱 "I miss you"

📱 "I'm outside"

You frown at the last message, already starting to text back, when a dark figure steps up to the desk, drawing your eyes away from the screen.

"Can I help you wi—"

The words catch in your throat when you recognize Jaemin’s handsome face, lit up by a brilliant smile. "Hi, princess."

You're too stunned to speak, your mind a whirlwind of frantic thoughts like "What is he doing here? Has he lost his mind? Why isn’t he wearing a mask? It’s three in the morning!" — but all those questions get pushed aside by the simple, heart-thudding fact: Jaemin is here, in front of you.

You let out an excited squeal, leaping out of your chair and racing around the counter to throw yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, pulling you close. You lift your head from his shoulder, your eyes locking onto his, sparkling and full of joy.

"I've got thirteen minutes left on my break," you murmur.

A mischievous glint flashes across his face. His gaze drops to your lips, then flickers around the deserted ward.

"Where?" he whispers.

"Staff room. Down the hall," you say, pointing to a door a little ways off.

"Just like Grey’s Anatomy. I love it."

You giggle, clinging to his neck as he stealthily carries you toward the staff room. To your immense relief, it’s empty. You shut the door with a quick flick of your wrist and immediately press your mouth to his. There's no time to waste. Jaemin groans into the kiss, savoring the taste of you he’s missed so much. Your hands slide under his hoodie, hungry to touch every inch of him, reclaiming what's yours. You tug it over his head, and when your hands meet his abs, his chest, his broad shoulders—

"God, I missed you," you breathe.

He grins, pleased, setting you down just long enough to slip off your scrubs top. You tug at the drawstring of his soft pants, starting to sink to your knees, but he grabs your arm.

"No—wait. We don't have time."

You whine in protest, but he just presses a few kisses to your shoulder, guiding you back against the wall.

"Be good for me, princess. Tomorrow, we’ll have all the time in the world."

The rough rasp of his voice at your ear sends a shiver straight down your spine, and you stop complaining. You feel his hands hook into the waistband of your scrubs and tug them down along with your panties. His heated breath fans across your skin as you arch your hips toward him, his body pressing close, savoring the feel of your bare skin against his hard length. Jaemin doesn’t wait another second. He shoves down his boxers, squeezes your hips, and slides his fingers between your legs, confirming just how ready you are for him. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he thrusts into you from behind, gripping your waist. A sharp gasp escapes you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the electric pleasure of being filled by him again. God, how you missed this—

"Shit—Jaemin—"

He trails his hands along your sides, resting them just beneath your breasts, pulling you flush against his chest.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs into your ear.

"I missed you so much," you whimper pathetically as he rocks into you with steady, deep strokes.

He chuckles darkly. "Yeah? What did you miss more—my hands or my cock?"

You moan, surrendering completely to the feel of him. "Everything. I missed everything."

With a low, satisfied groan, Jaemin picks up the pace, filling the small room with the sound of skin against skin, the roughness of breathless curses slipping from his lips. You feel him getting close, the tension building in his muscles. Reaching back, you tangle your fingers into his hair, holding him close. His forehead presses against your temple, and you barely manage to muffle your cry of pleasure when his fingers find your clit again, pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Jaemin shudders through two sharp thrusts, spilling inside you as you climax hard against him, your body collapsing into his. He breathes heavily, relaxing the tight coil of his muscles, and presses a tender kiss to your jaw.

"How many minutes left?" he asks, voice low and warm.

You steal a glance at your watch and take a deep breath. "Three."

"Perfect," he murmurs, nuzzling your skin as he carefully pulls out. "Just enough time for a goodnight makeout session. Even if you do taste a little like antiseptic..."

*＊✿❀ Chenle ❀✿＊*

📞 "I hope you're not sleeping, because I'm on my way." 📞 "I'm wide awake."

And you really are. You're ready, waiting for him in his living room, draped in nothing but a bathrobe — and beneath it, his favorite: a delicate lace lingerie set. You pace nervously, tension coiling in you like a drawn bowstring. Chenle can be so stubborn, and he's not exactly the romantic type, but God, you miss him — his presence, his warmth, his kisses, his hands—

The door lock clicks. You freeze, heart pounding, and the moment he steps inside and kicks the door shut behind him, it’s Chenle who launches himself at you. His hands find your hips, pulling you into a frantic, messy kiss. You break apart only for fleeting breaths — but neither of you wants to waste a second. His hand slides down to grip your ass, possessive and hungry, making you whimper against his mouth. You fumble with the knot of your robe, letting it slip off your shoulders. Chenle pulls back just enough to look at you, his breath catching. His smile — that devastating smile — sends a shiver racing through you. His hands skim your bare waist before he sinks to his knees, grabbing your thighs like he’s claiming you. You let out a breathless laugh, unable to hide your amusement at how desperate he looks.

"You're gone for a month and this is the first thing you want to do?"

Chenle shakes his head and urges you back until the kitchen island presses against your lower back. "No, Y/N," he says, voice low and rough. "This is the only thing I want to do."

Before you can respond, he's hooking his fingers into your panties, tugging them down in one swift move. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder and dives between your thighs without hesitation, groaning in satisfaction when he finds you already wet. The pleasure is immediate — overwhelming — as he kisses, licks, devours you like a starving man. Usually, he'd use his fingers too, coaxing you higher, but tonight, he knows he won’t need them. Not when you're already grinding against his mouth, chasing the high you’ve been aching for.

And he’s right. The way his hands clutch your thighs to keep you still, the way his dark eyes lock onto yours from between your legs, the raw hunger written all over him — it’s too much. It’s everything. You don't last long. Muscles tightening, you cry out, thighs clamping instinctively around his head. Even as he struggles for air, Chenle doesn’t let up — not when your cries turn to full-bodied moans, not when your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking hard. God, he missed you. When you finally crash, trembling and gasping for breath, he kisses your thighs tenderly, massaging your calves as he works you through the aftershocks.

"I missed these legs even more than your face," he murmurs against your skin.

You laugh and lightly knee him in the chest.

*＊✿❀ Jisung ❀✿＊*

When you punch in the door code and step into your apartment still wearing your practice gear, the last thing you expect is to find your lanky boyfriend standing in front of the fridge, shoveling your lasagna straight from the baking dish into his mouth. You let out a terrified scream, making him jump and puff out his chipmunk-cheeks full of food. One hand flies to your chest, feeling your heart hammering against your ribs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! Are you insane?!”

Jisung hurriedly shoves the half-eaten dish back into the fridge and moves toward you.

“I got back an hour ago.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “I know, I read your texts. You could’ve warned me you were coming over.”

He shrugs and tilts his head innocently. “I thought it was obvious.”

You sigh and shut the door behind you, letting your gym bag drop heavily to the floor. After spending so much time apart, you sometimes forget how sweet and naive your boyfriend can be. You open your arms, and he lights up like a Christmas tree. He strides over and engulfs you in his familiar hug, swaying your bodies back and forth. He doesn't say a word, but you can feel it all—the strength of his embrace, the pounding of his heart, the affection in the kisses he presses into your hair, and the hardness—

You flinch, realizing his erection is pressing insistently against your stomach.

“Jisung?”

“Mmh?”

“You came here because you wanna fuck, didn’t you?”

Jisung steps back, keeping his hands on your shoulders. He sighs and gives you a guilty look.

“Yeah. Do you hate me?”

You burst out laughing, and he flushes bright red.

“You're adorable. But I really need a shower and—”

“No, please. I don’t care. I can’t wait any longer. I’m begging you—”

“Okay, okay. Jeez, what the hell happened on the plane?” you tease as you head toward the living room.

Jisung trails behind you in impatient little steps. “Chenle’s girlfriend posted a video on Instagram.”

You turn, one eyebrow shooting all the way up. “Excuse me?”

Jisung’s eyes widen. “Your video! She posted a video of you working out—doing that damn thing with your ponytail.”

You smirk and thighten your ponytail dramatically. “This thing?”

Jisung literally whimpers, reaching out for you like a desperate child. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

His hands cradle your face as he kisses you, his tongue immediately pushing into your mouth. Your hands find his biceps, and you grin as you feel the heat blooming in his face.

“What do you want me to do, baby boy?” you whisper against his lips.

He stammers something unintelligible and throws his head back when you trail kisses down his neck, your hand sneaking under his T-shirt to caress his abs.

“Do you want me to get on my knees? Hmm?”

You feel him shiver against you, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He gives a trembling nod. You smile against his skin, tugging off his T-shirt. Locking eyes with him, you leave a trail of kisses from his chest down to just below his belly button. His skin breaks out in goosebumps as you finally sink to your knees, bringing your face level with his growing arousal. You lick your lips and undo his baggy jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers. A bead of drool escapes the corner of your mouth when his erection springs free, and you quickly swipe it away. Glancing up mischievously, you catch him blushing even deeper—but, surprisingly, he doesn’t look away. You wrap your hand around him, giving him a few slow pumps, and Jisung lets out a loud, needy moan, raking a hand through his hair. The second you take him into your mouth, he grabs your ponytail, sending a jolt of excitement straight between your thighs. Your welcome-home blowjob doesn’t last long. Jisung cums within a minute, moaning loudly and clenching the muscles in his thighs. When you pull away, licking your lips, you start to rise to your feet—but he grabs you by the hips and hoists you over his shoulder, rushing toward the bedroom. You laugh when he gives your ass a playful slap. You retaliate with a cheeky pinch to his bare butt, your face just a few inches from it. He throws you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. Jisung clambers onto the mattress, kneeling in front of you, and for a moment, he just drinks you in—your training shirt, your scandalously short shorts—and that’s when you both notice you're still wearing your sneakers. You giggle as he lets out a frustrated huff and yanks your shoes off, tossing them across the room. He dives between your legs without a second’s hesitation, kissing you hard.

“Can you—can you get on top?” he stammers between kisses. “I want you o-on top.”

You straddle him immediately, sinking down onto his new erection and grabbing his large hands to guide them to your ass. He lets out a shuddering sigh as you start grinding on him, the slick fabric of your shorts sliding against his bare, sensitive skin. Jisung practically wails at the feeling, clutching your ass as he rocks your hips back and forth.

“I missed you so much... my good boy,” you whisper.

Jisung throws his head back against the mattress and squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s not—ugh, it’s not fair. You're cheating, woman.”

You glance down—and laugh out loud when you realize, yep, he’s cum again, while you’re still fully dressed.

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other OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone

his favourite part of your body

when he hurts you during sex by accident

when they come back from tour ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

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[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

Love you, Doctor.

Synopsis: You and Karina as a married couple with a different professional career.

Word Count: 991

You were a successful engineer—your days spent buried in calculations, blueprints, and job sites. She was a renowned doctor, often running on little sleep and endless patient appointments. Your schedules rarely aligned. Mornings were kisses on the forehead before parting. Nights were soft sighs and half-asleep embraces. But the love? Always steady. Always there.

You glanced at the time on your watch, wiping grease off your hands after adjusting a faulty valve at one of your sites. It was almost noon. You knew she probably hadn’t eaten.

You pulled out your phone.

“How’s my favorite doctor?” you texted, a small smile playing on your lips.

A few minutes later, your screen lit up.

“Hi sweetheart. Still working. Long day already. How about you?”

You could almost hear the exhaustion in her voice just by reading her words.

“Busy too, but I’m good. I’m dropping off your lunch, Doc.”

The reply came quickly.

“Don’t call me that!”

You chuckled, imagining her flustered expression.

“What? You worked hard for that title. I’m proud of you.”

There was a pause before your phone buzzed again.

“Being called love by you… means more than any title this world could ever give me.”

That was her. Tired but tender. Accomplished yet soft. You stared at her message for a second longer than you should have, heart full despite the distance between you.

You drove to the clinic, a warm meal in a paper bag and a note tucked inside.

“Eat well, rest when you can, and remember I love you—with or without the lab coat.”

She found it and messaged you.

“hey sweetheart received the meal you gave me, thank you, see you later, love you engineer.”

“i’m headed home now doc, see ya, I love you more.”

The day ended the way it always should—soft, warm, and full of love. You and Karina sat on the couch, shoulders touching as the glow of the TV lit up your living room. Plates now empty, a half-watched movie marathon playing in the background, your fingers found hers and stayed there. It didn’t matter what movie was on anymore; what mattered was that she was home, and so were you. After a long day of saving lives and solving problems, this was the part you both looked forward to the most—quiet time, together

When it got late, she rested her head on your shoulder, whispering something about how lucky she felt. You kissed the top of her head, whispered back that you felt the same, and the two of you headed to bed, ready to start it all again tomorrow.

Earlier that afternoon, you were wiping sweat from your brow, checking over some client reports when your phone buzzed.

“Surgery about to start. Won’t be able to message you for another 4–5 hours, sweetheart.”

You smiled.

“Good luck, Doc. I’m dropping off your food in about an hour. Want anything specific?”

Thirty minutes later, your screen lit up—not from her, but from someone else.

“Hey Engineer, this is Doc’s assistant. She says steak with a side of veggies. Thanks again!”

“Got it. Appreciate you.” You packed the lunch, extra care in the way you arranged her favorite utensils, and added a small sticky note inside: “Don’t forget to rest. Love you.”

She didn’t see the meal until five hours later. But when she did, her heart melted—again.

“Hey sweetheart, just got to eat. The food was perfect, love you so much, Engineer. Please have a safe ride home.”

You replied almost instantly.

“On the way now, Doc. See you for dinner. Love you even more.”

Even after two years of marriage, your words made her heart race. Her assistant watched her blush, hiding her face behind her clipboard.

“He wrote you another note again?” she asked with a grin.

Karina nodded, cheeks pink. “Yeah… he always does. He just never forgets.”

She tucked the note into her coat pocket, the same way she always did.

“Lucky, should I marry an engineer too, Doc? What do you think?” her assistant teased, nudging her shoulder.

Karina chuckled, still staring at her phone like it was holding a secret only she knew. She looked up with a dreamy sigh.

“If you find someone who makes ordinary days feel this special,” she said, voice soft, “don’t let them go.”

Her assistant raised a brow. “So… that’s a yes?”

Karina smiled, her heart full.

“It’s a forever kind of yes.”

You arrived home, kicked off your shoes, and let the quiet comfort of your place settle in. Without thinking, your fingers were already typing.

“Hey Doc, just got home. Can’t wait for our dinner. Love you, take care.”

You hit send and smiled, already picturing her reaction. You knew she’d probably read it between patient charts or right after washing up from surgery, but no matter how tired she was—your messages never failed to make her heart flutter.

After an hour or two your phone buzzed.

“Hey love, just finished look at my new eyewear.”

+1 Attachment

you were speechless and was drowning in your own flustered state, no matter how long you two have been married for, she’s as beautiful as the day that you met her.

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Distractions- Chapter 26

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

You were laying on your side when you woke up the next morning to knuckles ghosting across your cheek and up and down your neck. Without opening your eyes, you let out the softest little sigh of contentment. 

“Good morning,” Tom whispered as he lightly grazed the tip of his nose back and forth across your temple before placing a lingering kiss there. Your lips curled into a sleepy smile, but you still didn’t open your eyes. His large palm gently stroked up and down your spine. “Would you like me to let you sleep, darling?”

“Mm-mm,” you mumbled with a weak shake of your head.

His chest shook against your hand as he chuckled softly in your ear. “Then what shall I do with you, my sleepy girl?” He placed a kiss just below your ear, then further down your neck, slowly, softly. Another sigh escaped your lungs and you felt him smile against your skin. “I could listen to those sweet little noises all day.”

“Keep kissing me like that and you will,” you uttered sleepily as you opened your eyes and looked up at him with a warm smile. 

“Hi,” he said softly, laying back down on his side, his nose just barely touching your own.

You brought one hand up to caress his face. “Hi. How did you sleep?”

“Amazingly. I’ve always slept better with you than on my own.”

“Me too.” You kissed him slowly, savoring the feeling of his lips and the taste of his tongue, and you could tell he was doing the same. “What do you want to do today?” you asked him when your lips finally parted.

“I thought we established that I’d be kissing you all day,” he replied as he peppered your cheek and neck with more kisses. 

You giggled. “Oh yes. Silly me! How could I forget?” He continued placing kisses down to your shoulder. “I know I’m not going to like the answer, but when do you have to go back to London?” 

He sighed heavily as he lifted his head and winced. “The day after tomorrow.”

“No,” you whined “Really?”

He let his forehead fall forward onto your shoulder. “I’m sorry, darling. I want nothing more than to stay with you, but I’m starting rehearsals for As You Like it on Tuesday.”

You scratched his scalp affectionately. “Don’t be sorry, Tommy. I’m going to miss you, of course, but I know better than to stand in the way between you and Shakspeare.”

He chuckled as he propped his head up on his hand and smiled down at you. “But I’ll be back in LA for the premiere of At Dawn next month.” At Dawn was the Spielberg film he shot in Hawaii. You couldn’t believe it was premiering already.

"Really?” you said with a smirk propping yourself up just as he did. “Do you think you’ll bring a date to this premiere?”

“I have someone in mind,” he replied slyly as he trailed his hand down your side and slowly lifted your thigh to hook over his hip. “But I’m not sure if she’s ready to be in front of the public eye. Do you think I should ask her?”

“Hmm… that depends. Is this girl just a fling or something more?”

“She’s my girlfriend actually.” He said it as if he was telling you a secret.

You felt butterflies in your stomach, but you played along. “Oh! Well then, I think she might as well get used to being in the public eye, and if she really loves you, it won’t matter, as long as she gets to be with you.”

“You think so?” he asked as he brought his lips closer to yours. You grinned and nodded, but just before your lips touched, he suddenly stopped, “Great! I’ll call her right now and ask her!” and pretended to reach for his phone.

“Fuck off, you bastard!” you said, laughing as you gave him a playful shove. In response, he rolled you over onto your back and leaned his face down close to yours. You both giggled as you rubbed your noses affectionately against one another, before kissing deeply, slowly, until you suddenly heard the sound of Tom’s phone ringing. Tom ignored it, continuing to kiss you as the ringtone played over and over and over, until you eventually pried your lips away. “Do you need to get that?”

“Whoever it is, they can leave a message,” he muttered before going right back to kissing you. The ringing stopped for a moment, but then it started right back up again.

“Tom,” you mumbled against his lips. He finally parted his lips from yours and groaned as he rolled over and picked up his phone. 

“Luke, mate, can I call you back later? I’m a little busy,” he said, shooting you a wink. You gave him a cheeky smile as you turned on your side and propped your head on your hand. He let out a frustrated sigh, and you knew he was in trouble. “I had to fly out to LA last minute, but I’ll be back on Monday.” You couldn’t hear what Luke said, but Tom rolled his eyes. “Does it matter?”

You had the feeling that this wouldn’t be a quick call, and you didn’t want to eavesdrop, so you began quietly getting out of bed, to which Tom responded by mouthing ‘No, no, no, no, no,’ with a pleading look on his face. “I’m just going to make some coffee,” you whispered. He made a pouty face as he leaned back against the headboard, but you just chuckled and shook your head as you quickly snagged a t-shirt out of his suitcase before going to the kitchen.

…

By the time the coffee was done brewing, you heard Tom come out of the bedroom as he was finishing his call. “Yeah, you too,” he said before hanging up. He still sounded a bit irritated. You were pouring the coffee into two mugs when you felt his arms snake around your waist from behind and his lips place a kiss to the crook of your neck. 

“Has mummy grounded you?” you teased. 

He chuckled slightly as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Something like that.”

“Did you tell him why you’re here?”

“Didn’t need to. He worked that much out himself.”

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?” you asked as you took a sip of your coffee.

He sighed. “It’s not that he doesn’t like you. He doesn’t even know you. He just–”

“Doesn’t like how much hurt I’ve caused you,” you finished his sentence with guilt in your voice.

“That’s not what I was going to say…”

“It’s okay, Tommy.” You reached up and cupped his face with your free hand. “He cares about you. It’s sweet.”

“More like he wants to make sure I’m not too distracted.”

“Me being the distraction, I take it?”

“I mean, can you blame me? I think being madly in love is a good enough excuse for being distracted,” he told you as he nuzzled into your neck, causing you to giggle.

“Even so, you must be a good boy for him, so that I can get into his good graces.” 

“I’ll try my best,” he said, kissing your head.

You turned around and handed him his coffee, before leaning back against the counter and taking a sip from your own mug. “So, As You Like It? I can only assume that you’re Orlando?”

“Someone has been studying up on their Shakespeare,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you while he took a sip as well.

“I looked it up while you were on the phone,” you admitted.

“That’s my girl,” he teased with a wink, leaning with one hand on the counter beside you. Teasing or not, it made you wet to hear him call you his.

“So who’s your Rosalind?” Translation: who do I have to watch you kiss on stage night after night? you thought.

Tom looked down at his coffee and cleared his throat before looking back up at you. “Evelyn, actually.”

“Evelyn Dawson? What are the odds of that?” You laughed it off, attempting to hide any sign of apprehension..

“I actually encouraged her to audition. She has a deep appreciation of the Bard as well, and I thought she would be good for the part.” 

“How lovely! Between that, and the At Dawn premiere, and press junket, you two will practically be joined at the hip!” As soon as you said it, you realised you probably sounded a little over-enthusiastic.

Clearly, he noticed. “You know you have nothing to worry about, right?”

You looked down at your cup. “Yeah, no, I’m not worried at all. I mean, you said you didn’t sleep with her before, so why would I worry?”

Evidently you were unconvincing. “Sweets, look at me,” Tom said as he took your coffee from you and set both mugs down on the counter. Instead of looking at him, you took a sudden interest in your fingernails, but he stepped in front of you and lifted your chin, looking earnestly into your eyes. “Did you know that while we were filming in Hawaii, all I could think about was you? It was actually really bloody annoying.” You both laughed. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, darling, but I’m deeply in love with you, and nothing and no one is ever going to change that, alright?” You gave a small nod. “I’m afraid that’s not good enough, sweetheart.” He suddenly lifted you up onto the counter and stood between your legs. “I’m going to need verbal confirmation that you believe me.”

“I believe you,” you said sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I believe you,” you said just a bit louder as you rolled your eyes.

He shook his head and tutted. “I’m just not buying it, love.”

You let out a frustrated groan. “I believe you!!” you yelled, causing you both to laugh. You pressed your foreheads together.

“Good girl,” he said, grinning at you.

You smiled and hummed in delight as you cradled his face in your hands and kissed him. He slipped his tongue in your mouth and pulled your hips forward until you were sitting on the very edge of the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist and you could feel his erection straining against his boxer briefs, so you reached down between your bodies and palmed the hard column of flesh through the fabric. He grunted lightly at the sensation, so you kept going, rubbing up and down his long shaft and giving the occasional light squeeze, soon feeling a wet patch developing near the tip.

Eventually he pulled your hand away and pushed his boxers down just below his ass, freeing his cock and guiding it into your pussy, now slick from listening to his deliciously sinful noises. You gasped as he entered you, and wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tight for what was about to come. Firmly gripping your thighs, he started thrusting into you while each of you watched the expressions on the other’s face, contorting in pleasure while moans tumbled out your gaping mouths. The counter thumped and shook, causing the coffee in your cups to spill over, not that you paid any mind. He was fucking you senseless, and you came twice before he showed any signs of letting up, but just when you thought he was close to cumming, he took you off of counter and turned you around. You quickly bent over and braced yourself, smirking back at him over your shoulder before he slammed back into you.

“Oh fuck! Yes!” you cried as he began fucking you again. Your legs started to shake when you felt another orgasm coming. He leaned forward, bracing himself with one hand on the counter next to yours, while the other reached around and rubbed your clit. You came with a scream of pleasure, spurring on his own release. With a loud groan of your name, he shot hot cum deep inside you. Afterwards, he hummed as he kissed you on the back of your shoulder, before he pulled out and found a dish towel which he wet under the faucet. 

You stood up and met him by the sink, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him while he cupped your swollen and dripping cunt with the wet towel with one hand and wrapped the other around your waist.

“Mmm, as good as that feels, you should know that I really don’t mind a little cum dripping down my thighs,” you told him sultrily. “In fact, I welcome it.”

“God, I wish we’d figured this out a long time ago,” he replied with a grin.

“How about we start focusing on the present, okay stud?”

He removed the towel from between your legs and threw it in the sink, before cradling your face in his hand. “I think that’s a brilliant idea, my love.”

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly , @the-princess-of-loki , @princess-ofthe-pages , @darcylikesloki , @kikster606 , @foxherder , @simone818283 , @newtomofgods , @christinebloodwrittings , @tom-hlover , @lulubelle814 , @kingliam2019 , @leniram1890, @jennyggggrrr , @libby-bibby , @queenofstarsign85

[iwoulddieforher]

Green Light | Casey Novak × Alex Cabot

this is chapter two of Green Light, to be directed to the Masterlist please click here!!

content warnings for implied sex, implied domestic abuse, schizophrenia- although, this chapter is somewhat light :) it is a slowburn, though, so this is ... the slow burn. sorry. love u

can we please appreciate how sexy Casey looks in the picture I chose for this chapter? this is what I'm picturing when I write her, she'd look like this

“Charlie, baby,” Casey yawned, rubbing at her eyes and leaning against the doorframe, “Why are you awake?”

It was late, ridiculously late, and she half thought that she’d rather much spin on her heel and march herself back under the covers, but lately Charlie hadn't been sleeping well, and she wanted to be there for him when he couldn't put himself down. He was standing in the kitchen, his clattering around having been the thing to wake her, and his frame was illuminated only by the soft light of a preheated oven and a small lamp they kept on the kitchen counter.

He looked up as though he had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to, still in his pajamas with a whisk in one hand and a large metal bowl in the other. He smiled shyly, the way he always did when he felt bashful, and Casey returned it curiously.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “Honey butter rolls.”

“Excuse me?” Casey laughed, wandering forward even though she was half asleep, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him gently on the cheek.

“We’re visiting my parents tomorrow,” he said sheepishly, “I … I haven't been taking my mom’s calls recently, with all that's been going on, and I thought I should bring her something.”

“That's sweet of you,” Casey observed, although her heart grew a bit more seriously at the mention of ‘all that's been going on’. She shook herself out of it quickly- this was Charlie, her Charlie, and a couple of bad days wouldn't change that.

She pulled up the sleeves on the sweatshirt she had fallen asleep in, glancing around at the various cooking implements he had scattered around their kitchen.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” he said immediately, gruffly, turning around, and Casey stood there awkwardly for a second before he turned around with a spatula and a small dollop of batter on it.

“Except for being my favorite taste-tester.”

Casey’s face broke out in a wide grin, leaning forward with a sound she’d deny was a giggle but most definitely was, making sure to get dough on her bottom lip as she sucked it off the spoon. She swirled the thick concentration in her mouth, sighing happily at the taste- Charlie was a wonderful chef, and she closed her eyes to savour it.

“It's amazing,” she murmured, “Everything you make always is.”

It was the truth. Whether it be the steak he made on the grill during summer parties, the protein shakes he made especially for her when he came to watch her softball matches, the sourdough she woke up too some mornings that made the whole apartment smell like heaven or the pasta recipes with more instructions she herself could remember- it was all luxuriously perfect, deliciously him.

She hummed quietly when she pictured waking up like this, years in the future. She had no doubt that the children they’d later have would be the envy of all tables at school, with a father like Charlie to ensure their lunchboxes had the most precious snacks. He put smiley-faces on pancakes with raspberries, he dropped off Tupperware containers with little sticky notes that told her he loved her at work when he knew she wouldn't be able to get a proper lunch break. That was the type of man he was. His kindness was unbelievably sexy.

Her fingers found his shirt, around his ribs the way she always held him, and his body shifted to accommodate her proximity immediately, the way he almost always did.

He stared at her lips with a small smirk and she smiled back innocently.

“What, do I have something on my face?”

“You're a goofball,” he muttered lovingly, placing the spatula back in the bowl and wrapping his arms gently around her waist, pressing his lips against hers and sucking the small amount of batter she had intentionally set for him off in a languished, sleepy kiss.

He swayed her gently in the kiss and her arms raised to cradle his neck, letting him tip her backwards softly and take her weight into his arms. She breathed softly when they separated, eyes fixated on his gorgeous brown ones. He smiled down at her and she smiled back, tilting her head to rest on the flat of his chest.

“I can't wait to marry you,” she hummed, one arm traveling down around to smooth across his broad shoulders.

She felt her heart pulse gently in her chest, closing her eyes and imagining walking down the aisle. She already knew he’d cry, and she could picture it, his hazel eyes glassy as they started a life together. She’d already been picturing it since the first night they spent together stargazing on an empty lot, when he rolled to his side and stared at her while she unassumingly kept pointing out constellations. A shooting star had fallen when he whispered ‘I love you’ for the first time. That was when she knew.

He began to kiss down the side of her neck and she groaned, curving her head to the side so he could get at more of it.

“Me neither,” he whispered into her pulse point, before nipping at it gently.

“How much longer,” she yawned, “Are your rolls going to take?”

“About half an hour,” he kissed her again, “Unless I get distracted.”

She felt his hands grip at her ass, and she clutched onto him with surprise as he lifted her up, setting her down on the untouched dining table behind them. Her legs bracketed his as he leaned forward, his large, warm hand encasing the side of her face as he kissed her. She moaned into the kiss this time, panting softly when they separated.

“And what exactly would you be so distracted by?” She whispered, shifting slightly to allow him to pull her sweatshirt up and over her head. He laughed quietly, and brought their lips together again.

“My perfect,” he muttered when they separated, before nuzzling her jaw and leaving a trail of kisses there, “Beautiful,” he continued down the side of her neck, “Brilliant,” he suckled gently at the spot he knew would have her gasping, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck. “Kind,” he continued, and kept lowering himself, lips on her collarbones, “Gorgeous,” then her sternum, “Clever,” down her abdomen, and she felt her pulse flutter in her stomach as she did so.

His hands slipped under her sleep shorts, moving to pull them off of her hips. “Perfect, and yes I know I’m repeating that one but I want to drive it in, fiance. That’s who I’m distracted by, and she’s my absolute favorite distraction.”

“Charlie,” she whispered, gripping at her shirt collar, “Wait, please.”

He halted, halfway to his knees, looking up at her with those brown puppy dog eyes she could barely see in the near-darkness, but she knew well enough the love she’d find in them if she would've been able to. She cupped his face in her hands, kissing his lips softly.

One hand wandered down to tug at his boxers, and she leaned over his shoulder to whisper softly in his ear.

“Get up here,” she cooed, “I want to see your face tonight.”

He chuckled softly and stood, one arm around the small of her back to guide her as she leaned back towards the table, opening herself up for him.

The next morning she woke, her back sore from being fucked down on a dining table, but she couldn't be happier. She rolled over to kiss him good morning, but he was already gone. Clattering in the kitchen told her he was back at work- had probably decided rolls weren't enough, and he wanted to bring more. She smiled to herself, snatching his pillow and clutching it to her chest, deciding to sleep another hour or two.

It wasn't often that she got to sleep in, now that she was working- it wasn’t always that she woke up so peacefully.

The second time she woke up, Charlie was gently shaking her shoulders. “Casey, it's rise-n-shine time. Get dressed, we have to leave for my parent’s house in an hour.”

“...smells good,” she muttered, stretching her arms until they hit the bedframe and not missing the way he glanced at her bare chest appreciatively.

“Honey butter rolls, pigs in a blanket, and brownies.” He listed off, ruffling his hair up- he always kept it messy, but Casey thought it was sexy like that, so it was fine. He was impatient, averting his eyes as if thinking of all the preparations he still wanted to do.

“You’re really going all out, aren't you?” She yawned, but she sat up agreeably.

He felt guilty- she knew he did. Ever since the phone had dangled from the receiver during their argument, he had been paranoid his mother had witnessed what Casey affirmed and reaffirmed to be just a couple’s crash. He hadn't been taking her more recent calls, and they'd skipped out of the few email invitations they had received. Frankly, she had no argument with it- his mother had given her an odd look when she tried to explain away the bruise on her jaw, and she wasn't fond of being questioned.

She considered this in the shower, but she really doubted her mother-in-law had heard, and if she did, she was sure she understood. All couples fight about something, and frankly, Casey was glad their arguments were only about this, and not something more serious. The bruises had faded, and he had kissed them every day at least three times to show his apology. She had forgiven him completely- she convinced herself she had, at least.

Casey stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body and glancing at the locked door as if it had magically swung open during the short duration she had been washing away the grime of time, before sighing. She felt guilty, but she needed to do it. He kept the haloperidol he had been prescribed in the bathroom cabinet, and even though she hated her paranoia, she checked the small orange tube when she could. It seemed lighter, it seemed like pills were missing, and that was good enough for her.

The guilt would be unimaginable if she actually started counting them. She convinced herself it was lighter, and that was fine. She tried to put it back in the exact same way she had picked it up, correcting the angle of the prescription label and everything.

Surely, he wouldn't notice. It didn't stop the bad feeling gnawing at her gut.

The drive over was calm, if you could call it that with him singing along to country songs on the radio while she made fun of him for it. They stopped for gas at some point, and she stole a pig in a blanket from the containers in the backseat, staring at him innocently when he returned and raised an eyebrow at her chewing.

“Hey, babies!” She laughed happily, opening the car door as carefully as she could as she was met with three little children who ran out to the car to meet them at the end of the long driveway. His sister and brother must already be here, as the children of the family she was soon to be part of were chattering around excitedly. A large rough collie jumped off the porch steps and began trying to herd the children back towards the house, spinning circles around them until she distracted him by crouching and letting him lick her jaw.

“We’re not babies!” The older son of his sister scolded her, although at his very old age of almost seven he didn't have a very strong point. She apologized anyway, ruffling his hair as the little girl clambered for her attention.

“I love watching you with my nephews,” Charlie whispered over her shoulder as she leaned to take the Tupperware containers holding the food he had made from the backseat, and she kissed him in response, which earned her a delighted chorus of “eww, Auntie Casey!” from the children.

She laughed again as the kids began to chase the dog, not realizing the puppy was being successful in its attempt to herd everyone back into the house.

The little girl tripped and she transferred the containers over to her fiance so she could scoop the child up into her arms, who immediately melted into her side and clutched little hands around her neck.

She wondered internally if the child she and Charlie would have in the future would be a feisty little boy like her nephew-in-law or a sweet little girl like this one. Either way, she hoped they’d have Charlie’s round eyes.

She muttered this to him as they walked into the house, and the little girl she was holding let one arm drop from its hold around her collar to pop her thumb into her mouth, because she trusted Casey not to let her fall without needing to use her arms to ensure that. He smiled at her, kissing her hairline softly as he made himself known to his parents.

Get-togethers like this were common for Charlie’s family, and now that she was familiar with all of the usual attendees, she adored being considered a part of them. It was always hosted at Charlie’s parent’s house, a large brick house in the suburbs that felt like the type of home only people in TV shows truly had. Warm, with a lot of personality, relics of all the children who had grown up there scattered and now accompanied by the toys of the grandchildren and trinkets of older age.

It always made her nostalgic for her own family, but they lived too far away to have usual events like this, although she did still see them at least twice a year if not more.

She was now officially ‘Auntie Casey' to the little ones here, and similarly Charlie was now referred to as an uncle when they were with her family’s offspring. She adored that, too- the way they all fit together so seamlessly.

Mostly everyone was in the backyard the way they always were. A large, fenced in backyard and a small above-the-floor pool in one corner with a couple trees around it for shade and her soon to be mother-in-law’s vegetable corner in the other corner made a perfect picture for the observers of the back patio, and a perfect play place for the kids and the two dogs.

Casey was greeted by a happy chorus of hellos by the others, kissing her mother-in-law on the cheek and beaming a wide smile at her father-in-law as she didn't want to put the girl in her arms down for a handshake or a hug. Her soon to be sister-in-law pinched her daughter’s cheek and briefly chastised her for making Casey carry her around, but Casey assured her it was all fine and she didn't mind being the little one’s vehicle of transport. What was the point of the muscles softball had earned her, if they weren't being used?

Regardless, after a few minutes of catching up with the people she was prepared to spend the rest of her life having potlucks with, her niece-in-law began wriggling and Casey gently set her down so she could play with the other of the two dogs, an older German shepherd whose fur was turning a soft, lighter shade around the nose. The pup was always incredibly gentle with the children and Casey smiled as she watched the girl wobble off with him, presumably back to her father or her mother.

“Auntie,” she was immediately greeted by the second oldest boy, who tugged at her jeans gently, “Can I show you my Legos, now?”

She chuffed softly when she realized he must have been waiting for her to put the girl down, but she immediately agreed, glancing up at his mother with a smile in her eyes as the little boy grabbed her hand- as much of it as he could reach, which was only really part of her fingers, and led her back into the house.

The playroom was next to the kitchen, and she heard Charlie come back inside to join the food he had brought with the large spread decked out by the others. Most things were bought, and that's partially what Casey had assumed they would do- stop over at the gas station on the way over the way they had anyway, pick up some candy or some soda and bring that- but of course, with culinary skills like Charlie’s, he felt as though he just had to bring something homemade. The children would appreciate it immensely, she was sure. There would be wiping chocolate off the tiny mouths to do later.

Her younger nephew was currently in his star-wars phase, apparently, although she wasn't sure he had actually seen the films, but his enthusiasm over showing her his space ships and his buildings was very genuine. He was delighted that she had little clue regarding the star wars franchise, because that meant she spent a solid twenty minutes with her legs folded beneath her on the multicolor rug as he told her all about the fights the characters were having and the details about the ships and the stars. He was equally delighted when he gave her one to hold and she extended her arm all the way up, carefully soaring the ship in the air above his head, watching his face as it scrunched in delighted little giggles as his build flew across the air.

Her position in the playroom, one unbeknownst to Charlie, was how she accidentally eavesdropped on snippets of what started to sound increasingly like a concerned argument. It started in low mutters that had Casey’s ears perked against her will, she didn't like to be one for overhearing matters that didn't concern her, but as their voices raised her eyebrows knit slightly with concern, and her little nephew could tell and mirrored her sudden solemnity.

“You know who I think would love to play with this?” She asked gently, “Your mother. Do you want to go play with her?”

“But I can always play with mommy,” He pouted, his face becoming scrunched with upset rather than joy, “I can't always play with you. You haven't come over in a bajillion million matrillion years!”

“It's only been a couple of months, sweetheart,” she tried to soothe, concern eating at her as the voices grew steadily louder. It sounded like Charlie was arguing with his mother, trying to insist something as she refused to drop the conversation. Casey didn't want to hear it if it wasn't for her.

“Still!” His little voice grew shrill, and her focus snapped back to him. If it mattered to her, she had little doubt Charlie would tell her about it later- they told each other everything, after all.

“Then how about we play with your spaceship outside?” She offered instead, and although he huffed and grumbled that was better than not being able to play with her at all, so although he crossed his arms with a pout he stood and followed by her side as she led him back out to the patio.

She swallowed, keeping her eyes on the back of his tiny head as she walked past Charlie and his mother to the backyard, dead set on not letting either of them see the furrow in her brow or notice that she had realized something was off at all. They went suspiciously quiet as she walked past and that made it worse- she could feel his mother staring at her, observing her, and she didn't understand why.

“Is everything okay?” Charlie’s sister murmured to her as she walked out onto the patio, and she could only offer a half shrug and a twitch of her lip as a response.

“Everything's fine,” she said quietly after a second, “I’m not sure what they’re talking about, but I'm sure everything is alright.”

Casey tried to distract herself with her nephew’s attention, who quickly forgot his protest about being moved outside when they sat criss-cross applesauce in the warm grass and she let him ramble about more obscure details while she flew the spaceship around in the air.

Her niece came by them in her little toddler walk, plopping down silently next to Casey’s lap and holding part of Casey’s dress shirt in her little fist as though she was wary Casey would disappear if she didn't.

The rest of the family seemed content to let Casey entertain the two kids as they chatted idly, with the older nephew insisting he help make food- the grill was on, and Charlie’s dad was in the process of making burgers, and he let the little boy put the ketchup on the buns and insisted that was the most important task there was to be done in the burger-making process.

They all essentially ignored that Charlie and his mother did not return until the burgers were done and everyone was called out onto the fold-out table on the large wood-paneled patio to eat.

“What was that about?” Casey whispered to Charlie, whose jaw was clenched right and whose face looked incredibly stressed as she found her designated chair next to him.

“My mom’s being weird,” was all she got in response, and he seemed dead set on not entertaining the topic further. She assumed he’d tell her on the drive back. It wasn't his style to whisper in front of others, of course.

In the routine they always did, the families segregated themselves to go in small groups inside to load their plates up with sides before coming back out to pick out burgers, but although the rest kept talking outside, Charlie remained utterly silent, and therefore Casey was too out of concern for him. She tried to find his hand under the table, but he didn't take it. Anxiety grew in her stomach.

On top of that, she wasn't appreciating the way Charlie’s mother was staring at her from diagonally across the table- her husband was talking to his son, and she was in the right position to join that conversation, but instead of doing so she was simply scrutinizing Casey’s face as though trying to find something in or on it.

The collie-dog began trying to hound people for crumbs of food from the table the second people came back from inside with stacks of food, and the old shepherd wandered over to the end of the table where Casey was sitting. She distracted herself by scratching under his ears and on top of his big ol’ head, choosing to seem as though she was enjoying the company of the dog as her fiance returned everyone with nothing but silence, even though she noted the way his sister tried to engage him in some form of conversation.

Her appetite had diminished itself when it was Charlie and her’s turn to go inside to get food, but she tried to avoid suspicion by accepting some of the things he offered her and a few others she chose entirely at random. She filled her styrofoam cup with water and returned back outside, taking the burger Charlie handed her wordlessly and biting into it. It was delicious, but with the odd feeling hanging tight in the air around her, it wasn't easy to enjoy it.

“Still working white collar, Casey?” Charlie's sister offered her some kind of conversation, and she smiled and nodded.

“I've heard rumors, though,” she said with a hint of pride in her tone, “That when a spot opens up, I’m on the list to be moved.”

“Good on you,” she beamed, flashing a broad smile that looked almost identical to Charlie’s.

Casey glanced over at him and saw him smiling fondly at her, too, and it helped calm her nerves slightly. He looked at her for too long, though, and his smile didn't make it all the way to his eyes the way it normally did.

The rest of the evening progressed without incident, and the vibe returned back to a casual excitability, but Casey couldn't shake the feeling that something important had transpired to the extent she was half-regretful she hadn't decided to simply be guilty and eavesdrop instead of sit and make idle chatter while the pit in her stomach grew every second without knowing what the argument was about. With every renewed glance Charlie’s mother shot her, the feeling it did concern her grew.

She tried to wrack her brain of any wrongdoing she could've possibly been accused of. Was Charlie's parents suddenly rejecting the marriage? Was that why Charlie wouldn't tell her what they had argued about? But everyone was still so kind, and Charlie’s father kept insisting she eat more for her strength, so- it didn't seem like they disliked her so suddenly, unless it was only his mother who did. Was it the other way around? Had Charlie said something unfavorable about her? But he wasn't the type for that at all and she trusted him so immensely she felt guilty and idiotic immediately after even entertaining the thought.

She tried to push it all aside.

They always were the first to leave, because they lived the furthest away, but Charlie told her they were leaving even before they normally did. The children were normally yawning and beginning to grow pouty before the goodbyes were even considered, but they were still in a state of energy when Charlie tapped her on the shoulder with the empty containers already tucked into his side and motioned her towards the door. The children were quite upset about it, and tried to make her promise she’d be back sooner than soon, but with the odd look in Charlie’s eyes she felt like she couldn't say much of anything specific.

“Casey, wait,” Charlie’s mother started with a soft voice as Casey stepped outside for a last time to say goodbye after helping clear the kitchen, but when Casey paused to turn to her, the woman could only open her mouth and stare as though the words wouldn't come.

Casey looked at her curiously, but Charlie reappeared beside her with a firm look in his eyes.

“Not now, mom.” He told her, one hand on Casey’s shoulders as he beckoned her to leave with him.

“Wait,” The woman said again, and frankly Casey was more inclined to follow her suggestion instead, curiosity swelling in her lungs, but Charlie snapped.

“I said not now,” he barked, “We aren't going to do this right now, or ever, and we’re ready to leave, so we’re leaving. Casey, come.”

He turned stubbornly and began for the car. Casey stood, a bit shocked at his outburst, glancing at his mother who stood stupidifed staring at his retreating figure, before she hastened to follow him. It wasn't often Charlie raised his voice- it was always an indicator something was genuinely, seriously wrong.

“Charlie?” She questioned, as gently as she possibly could.

“Not now,” he told her too, in the same demanding tone of voice he had used with his mother.

The drive back was utterly silent. It felt wrong to turn the radio on, and even more so to try to make conversation, so Casey tried to relax into staring at the buildings flowing by them out the car window as Charlie gripped the steering wheel with white-burning fingers. His family had a tendency to hold things too tight when they were anxious, Casey had long since noticed.

She waited for him to speak, to apologize or tell her anything, but he didn't. It felt like an eternity until they pulled back into their parking space, and after Charlie grabbed the containers filled only with air and crumbs, he exited the car and started up the stairs to their apartment without waiting for her- without even glancing at her.

He started washing the containers the second he entered the apartment without even taking off his shoes, and when Casey left the bathroom after changing into a nightgown and brushing her teeth, he was still washing them. They had long since been cleaned entirely, but he seemed not to notice. He looked up to stare at her blankly, and Casey slowly retreated into the bedroom as if in defeat, or in surrender.

She kept her ears perked to hear the end of running water in the sink, but even when it did, he did not come to bed with her.

She fell asleep alone, feeling cold, bewildered and increasingly anxious.

[maudie-duan]

Series Summary: Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat for nearly two years. At what point do you choose to either endure or let the strain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

Word Count: 5.2K

Warning: SLOW-BURNER, Strong Language, Major Angst, Eventual Smut, Emotional.

H: I know you said you were busy, but is there any chance we could see each other before the premiere? Surprisingly, my schedule is wide open.

S: I’m sorry, but I really can’t. I’m filming today and have a meeting with some sponsors tomorrow…plus a team meeting with my team to go over the details for the next month. I’m super booked. I’m already tired.

H: That’s quite a list. Figured it would be a stretch, but I had to ask.

H: I’m dying to see you, if we’re sticking with honesty. I know I’ve told you already.

Shiloh didn’t get back to me until later that night. I must have caught her right before a live because thirty minutes later, I was watching her and Florence live on Instagram, wondering if she would ever ask me to be on the show or if that would spark too much chatter.

I’m not sure how I would handle myself. I kept re-reading the message I sent, wondering if it was too forward and needy for her already, but I couldn’t help myself. We’ve only really been able to text since we started talking, Shiloh giving me her nights, long phone calls into the late hours. Giving me time, I know she'll be hurting for later once her day catches up, so I can’t really complain. Whether we’re texting or talking on the phone, she’s found a way to have me there with her.

“Is it boring listening to us edit?” Shiloh speaks up. She has me on speaker phone while she and her friends edit videos. This is the second night in a row, but I’m happy to do it, to listen to her thoughts: every idea, every comment, the suggestions she takes from her team. She’s all hands on deck, and it’s so refreshing. She has complete control of her image, and it’s impressive, motivating, and at times, I even find myself taking mental notes.

“I’m not bored, I promise, I’m taking this opportunity to send out some emails myself,” I tell her, the smile on my face stretching when her laugh fills the line.

“Well, look at us, being worker bees…” Then she laughs again, “I think we’re almost done, if you don’t mind hanging tight?”

“I have no other obligations but to lie in bed and talk to you. Although it is getting close to my bedtime…” Another laugh sounds, but it’s not hers. It must be her friend Annie, the super fan, and I laugh to myself, wondering what it must feel like to be her friend in this situation—a situation so random that even I don’t know how it happened.

“I’m sorry, old man…are you going on a run in the morning?” She asked, with a casual sarcasm that seemed to drip from her mouth, something I’ve witnessed from watching her videos, but she’s quick on her feet, and sometimes even I can’t keep up.

“I was thinking about it…what’s your address, and I’ll run by your house.” I poke.

“Yeah, right, sir, like I would give you my address that easily.”

“It was worth a try…” I tell her, “You’d probably be sleeping anyway…”

“I do cherish my sleep…” and then she shifts back into work mode: “What if we cut six minutes here…and then if we absolutely have to, I can refilm the last three minutes?” That outro was weird even for me…”

“I really like what Kevin said about the intro. I think we should stick to that idea for sure.” She tells them, “And when I was looking at the calendar, it looks like we could actually mark off—”

She sighs, “Damn…these six days…wait…do we really think six days in NYC?”

I sit up then, pressing the phone into my ear harder. “I think I want to cancel this. I kind of want to stay here for a bit. We’ve been on the go for a while now.”

“I’d be down to cancel if that’s what you want?” Annie tells her, “We could fit another interview in here instead—”

Shiloh interrupts, excitement spilling from her tone, “Oh my gosh! I forgot to tell you who freaking reached out to me.”

“Who?” Annie asks, and I stay quiet even though I’m curious myself.

“Billie!”

“No way, dude, shut up!”

“No, I kid you not. I had to like check the profile like six times.” She laughs, “I messaged her back and was like girl…of all the people to slide into my DM’s…”

They both share a laugh, but I’m dying to see her face, see the excitement, memorize the way I know the smile would reach her eyes, witness it firsthand. I want to be the person making her this excited, and now I’m dying to know what she thinks of me, of us, dying to know if she wants the same things.

Is it insane to want forever already? Because there’s never been a person I’ve felt this drawn to, the others were mere place holders; they had to have been. “As in Billie Eilish?” I ask, just to soothe my own curiosity.

“Yes, Harry! There are no other Billies in my world.” And then Annie speaks up, “That’s her wife.”

“Her wife?” I repeat.

“Yeah, that's my baby. I would marry her in a heartbeat...Well...actually only if Kristen Stewart didn’t ask me first.” She says.

“Hmm…” I hum, mulling over this new bit of information, “So, then I don’t stand a chance, huh?

And this draws a giggle from both ladies, then Kevin lets out a loud groan, “Bro, you’re the only option in this household, don’t worry…trust me.”

“Oh my god, Kevin…” Then there’s a shuffle on the line, and when Shiloh talks, this time her voice is the only one I hear.

“Alright, guys, I’m calling it a night.” She huffs, “I’ll be in my room…”

I laugh, my tone rasping through the mouthpiece of the phone, “I'm the only option in the household?”

She scoffs, “Don’t let that go to your head. I have options, trust me.” I know she’s joking, but there’s a serious undertone. She, in fact, has many options, but I want to be the only one.

I let the phone go silent, and the sound of a door closing behind her is prominent, and for some reason, I’m finding myself sulking in her comment, even though I know it wasn’t meant to harm.

“Harry…” Shiloh speaks, cutting through the silence, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, a knot forming in my throat.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” she asks, and her voice echoes, “Sorry, I’m putting you on speaker phone. I need to get ready for bed.”

“I'm thinking we should FaceTime while you're getting ready?” I joke.

“Ha. Ha—maybe after I change…” she tells me, and I can hear the smile in her tone, and all I can do is picture her getting undressed.

"You know all you have to do is pull up the pictures from our photoshoot, and you would have all the images you want." She pokes, "Alex sent me every single picture."

"Wait, what?" I force out, nearly choking on the words with a new sense of excitement coursing through me.

"Did you not ask for them?" She questions.

"No..."

"Hmmm..." she hums, and now I'm in my head, reeling over the idea of having every SINGLE picture.

She was quiet for a moment, and then the sound of running water pulls me from my thoughts. “I’m going to brush my teeth real quick. I’m sorry, it might be loud.” Her voice reverberates around the bathroom, but then she switches us to FaceTime, and my entire body surges with a whole new energy- a new curiosity itching at my brain.

This is the third night in a row that she’s taken me to bed with her, walking me through each of her routines. The first time I watched her, I couldn’t believe it was happening. It felt like my very own personal live. Her casual demeanor as calm, as if she was filming for her channel.

The night seemed to bring on a whole new persona for us both, dreamlike, the two of us able to let our guards down. Each conversation seemed to flow without effort, the phone a vessel as she seemed to float into my world. She was no longer a daydream, but a real person on the other end of my screen; it was the closest we had been since that night I called her and made a fool of myself.

But I think we’re finally past that.

There’s so much I’ve already learned about her. Stuff that hasn’t made it to the screen trust me, I’ve seen everything I could get my hands on, and yes, I’ve told her—she said she’s done the same, except she's had the upper hand because my whole life is practically out there for the entire world to unpack.

And she’s not wrong.

Every new detail that seems worthy of remembering, I’ve listed in my notes app. I don’t want to forget a single thing, big or small, I want her to know I’m in this a hundred percent—it’s scary, but I don’t want to push it. Everything feels fragile, a delicate balance, and I don’t want to tip the scales before I ever get a real chance.

“I’m so tired…” she whispers, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She looks cozy, peaceful, on the verge of falling asleep, but I’m not ready to let her go.

“Don’t fall asleep, yet Shi…” I tell her, my voice low.

Her green eyes are trained on me, the side of her face buried into her pillow, “It sounds really sweet when you call me that…”

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“I like it a lot, or maybe it’s your accent…I don’t know. I like your voice; it makes me tired,” she says, her eyes flitting shut, a soft smile playing on her lips.

I let out a quiet laugh. “It makes you tired?” I question.

“Yeah…” she breathes, and she doesn’t open her eyes. " Like it’s cozy…” A smile stretches across her face then, and just as it’s almost at full mass, her eyes flutter open.

“I could listen to it all night.” She adds.

“You can listen to it anytime you want,” I tell her.

And this keeps the smile on her face, “We finally get to see each other tomorrow,” Shiloh says.

“I know…crazy, right?”

“Are you nervous?” She asks.

“I don’t know…maybe a little, are you?”

“Yes, what if I’m not the same in person…” she says with a shy, breathy laugh.

“We’ve technically already met in person, twice, kind of…”

“Twice?” She repeats

“Once at the Gucci show and the photoshoot,” I explain, knowing the Gucci show doesn’t count, but it counts for me.

“Harry, to be honest, I was trying to avoid you at that Gucci show.”

And this is news to me—I told her that I was drawn to her, but we never really got into the details of it, just that it was a mutual thing. Now I’m curious. “Avoiding me?” I ask.

“Yeah, you felt–” Then Shiloh laughs again, covering her eyes, as a huge grin stretches across her face, “I don’t know. If I tell you, will you promise you won’t think I’m weird?

My heart picks up at this, a thousand questions already circling in my mind. What if she didn’t feel it, the draw, what if this had all been entirely one-sided, the depth in which I’ve felt her, longed for her since the moment I saw her, because that’s what it was, longing.

And when she uncovers her eyes, her smile drops, and she smooths her lips together, the mood shifting in a single breath. “Harry…” she says her tone low.

“That night…I was really nervous, and you like kind of became my lifeline. I don’t know how to explain it. Like if I felt myself freaking out, I would find you in the room…well actually, you were kind of in my line of sight the whole time. It was crazy, but I would look at you, and something just felt right, I don’t know…I know that sounds crazy, but I just felt it...” She finishes, and my heart is fucking soaring, and as I take in her face, I see tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s not crazy…I promise, does this upset you?” I whisper, my throat tightening, but I feel it too, the unexplainable emotions that have seemed to follow us, circle us like vultures, haunt our every thought, because it's evident that she feels it too, and it’s everything

“I don’t know…” She chokes out, then the first tear is running down her cheek, leaving a glossy trail, and it’s breaking my heart because I want so badly to reach out and touch her, to have been able to wipe away any tears that I’ve brought her, because even if she hasn’t told me, I know I’ve already hurt her; and the pain of that has been like crawling through the desert, praying for rain.

“I’m scared,” she tells me.

These are the moments he seems to take over my mind.

Always when I least expect it.

One moment, my mind is swirling with the madness at hand, my life, my task, everything that is entirely mine, and suddenly, I'm thinking about those green eyes, his smile–and then the next thing I know, I'm spiraling through memories we haven't even made, imagining him in moments that don't even exist, dreaming of how his hand might feel against the small of my back guiding me through a crowd, or the sound of his laughter in the early morning, rough with sleep, but honest and raw. The way his name might taste on my tongue in the heat of a moment I'm too scared to initiate. What are we when the phone no longer serves as our lifeline?

It's terrifying how quick my mind is to race ahead, building our future from tiny details, while mindlessly conjuring a life around a person I barely even know. And yet I can't stop the flood, this rush of wanting that sweeps me from one thought to the next like I'm caught in a current too strong to fight, because there's no resisting, because the moment I fight is the moment the current takes me under--to a place where I'm fighting for the past, fighting for the old me, but she doesn't exsist anymore.

And I keep telling myself to be careful. I keep telling myself that fantasy rarely survives reality, and maybe this is just another daydream I'm trying to breathe into life, another moment of wanting something so bad that I begin to shape it into something that isn't real–these are the moments I want to pull back, to protect myself, but now I'm thinking it's too late, because I think I've been falling since before I even uttered his name from my lips, and now I'm just waiting for the impact, for the storm overhead.

“Okay, I think we’re set,” Kevin confirms, handing me the mic. My makeup artist is touching up my lipstick, right before we go live for Vogue, and it feels like pure fucking chaos, but all I can do is grin and bear it.

“Shiloh, make sure you’re on your mark…okay, now shift right, okay, just like that. I think you should hold the mic in your left hand, it looks better on the screen—”

Annie is in “go mode,” and thank God she’s such a powerhouse because she has been my saving grace in these big moments. Not a single thing seems to shake her, and every time I look at her, I try to embody her energy because she is my rock in this moment.

“Okay, give us a quick intro before we roll, the countdown begins now, in 5…4…3…2…1…and NOW—!”

Then we were off to the races, and in no time I was slipping into my filming persona like a glove that fit perfectly–people coming and going, jokes being made, all smiles, all the while wondering when I would see Harry.

"My darling, Shiloh," Florence coos as she approaches, "It's crazy...It's like we've just done this..."

“Floooo! Oh my god, I’m obsessed with your look, I kid you not! Tell us what you’re wearing…” and just as she’s about to answer, Harry’s name is being shouted, tossed around in the background over and over, and Florence turns to look.

“I guess our star has finally made it,” She laughs out, her tone laced with sarcasm, and I can’t help but laugh.

“You may not get a decent interview with all that noise…of course no hate Vogue…” she says, turning to the camera, but she’s right, the fucking crowd is roaring, even though the real star of the movie is standing next to me, and that's when it hits me that Harry will be standing before me in just minutes.

“Oh my gosh, Shiloh, let’s not talk about my dress, lets talk about yours, holy fuck…wait am I allowed to say that?”

“You are now,” I laugh out, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh my gosh, can I just say, you have to be the most gorgeous person here tonight, like I cannot, get over this dress, is it glued to your body, like I’m so obsessed.” Then her hand is moving to my waist taking in the dress.

“That’s so sweet, but really, who are YOU wearing, it’s freaking stunning my friend. Black is so classic, but it’s perfect on you.”

"Darling, it's Louis Vuitton...Oh no...I think I'm being called...I'm sorry to cut our interview short, love, I'll see you tonight, yeah?" She rushes, reaching in for a hug, and when I look over her shoulder, Harry was approaching faster than I imagined.

And that was the moment the panic set in.

Like standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down, wondering how you got here in the first place, and my heart slams against my ribs like it's trying to escape, my body already reacting, trying to reach him before I could, yet instead of fighting, a piece of me wanted to surrender. There was an interviewer between us, but it might as well have been an ocean for all I cared, because the thought of him nearing was terrifying, but God, I wanted to dive into every aspect of him.

I could feel the mic in my hand beginning to slip, and I wondered if the camera was picking up on my shaky fingers. How could time both stretch and contract at the same time? How could the world spin and stop on its axis in the flash of a heartbeat? There he was, standing only a few feet away, and I was next–and he would be mine for a few minutes.

The closer he got, the more the noise of the premiere seemed to fade into a distant hum, as an eager pulse raced under my skin, blood rushing to my ears, my heart pounding so hard that I could feel it in my throat. It was all happening so quickly, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing over me while I talked at the camera, me playing my part. Still, my mind was only on him, the moment playing out like a fucking fever dream–the haze of his presence was pulling me under. I have no control, because it's him, he's my person, and I know with every fiber of my being that I have to have him in my life, that I could not go another moment without him.

It was that fucking gravitational pull that seemed to break all the rules the moment our worlds collided. The feeling was surreal as my mind tried to fill the gaps, the gaps of time when he was merely a collection of memories pieced together–Fragments of conversations, glances stolen from across the room, the cadence of his voice, now a script written across my bones, and this is terrifying, my whole body tremebling, and I risk a glance at Annie who gives me a slight nod–and I know I need to pull it together.

When my eyes dart back to Harry, his eyes find mine across that impossibly short distance. Something thrums between us humming over my flesh, like my body is trying to recall all those late-night conversations, all those whispered confessions over FaceTime—they suddenly feel like nothing compared to his actual presence, and the air that floods my lungs is thick, growing heavy, making it harder to breathe, crushing me as if the universe itself was trying to condense every memory into this single moment.

Because I swear I rehearsed this meeting a thousand times in my head, trying to think of the perfect lines, standing in front of the mirror practicing a casual smile, one that wouldn't give me away, but now my mind is blank, wiped clean by the reality of him. This was Harry, actually Harry, not just a voice through my phone or a face on my screen, and his smile—dammit, that smile—there it is, curving slowly, private like it's just for me, like we don't have thousands of eyes on us right now, like the world hasn't been waiting for this very moment.

And then he closes the space between us, two heartbeats of time becoming one. And then I remember I have to speak, have to somehow function like a normal human being when everything inside me is pure, fucking chaos.

"Hi," I whisper into the mic, dazed in a giddy fit of panic, and I can feel the muscles in my cheeks stretching.

Then he's smiling, matching my energy, because I can tell he's just as taken, but he had already warned me this morning that he knew he wouldn't have any control, and when I hand him his mic, our fingers brush, making my whole body tingle. Then my eyes dart to the fucking ground like an idiot, giving myself away entirely because I cannot stop smiling to save my life, and then I look into the camera, to seal the deal, and I kid you not Annie snaps her fingers and I have to reel it in.

"Hi," is all he says, and we share a glance, a tiny sliver of time that is ours. It is both terrifying and exhilarating, and I wonder if this is the closest to magic I'll ever get because the man has me under a spell, and I am bound to him.

"Your dress is extraordinary. You look stunning. That's all the crowd could talk about back there, and honestly, I couldn't agree more." He gushes, and I definitely blush. I can feel the heat rushing to my face.

"You don't look half bad yourself, are you wearing Gucci?" As Harry looks down to peek at his suit, he rubs a hand down his torso, and my eyes snag on his ring-clad fingers.

"Yes, yes, Gucci has so kindly taken care of me this evening..." He confirms, but I just figured out my next angle, so I take it.

"Okay, so I've only ever heard about the rings, but it's different seeing them in person. Can we get a little view for the camera?"

Then, I spread my fingers out in front of me to urge him to do the same, and he does, switching hands with his microphone to give us a view of each hand. When my eyes sweep to my own hand, my fingers are trembling, and I have to stretch them, each finger splaying wide. Then my eyes flick to his for the briefest second, and suddenly, there's a sense of relief that washes over me.

Looking back on that red carpet interview now, I realize I was the one who hard-launched us before we even had a chance to figure it out, but that's for another day, because I wasn't even thinking, I was just doing it, grabbing her outstretched hand on full display for the world. Her perfect, delicate hand shaking before me, making my heart drop to my stomach. I wanted to take the pressure off the moment–I wanted to touch her and let her know that it was okay, that it was just us, just me and her, nobody else.

"I didn't realize you were a ring, girly," I laughed, taking her hand in mine, and it wasn't true, I knew this about her, after all I had seen every image of her I could ever find, now cataloged in my mind like a flipbook, moving through my minds eye every time her name is mentioned. I had seen every ring that had been on her finger on screen, but there was only one that I ever wanted to call mine, and in that split second, it changed our whole reality.

"I love this one..." I tell her, swiping my finger down the smooth stone of her ring. The one from the photoshoot, the one that caught my eye before, the one that had me in a daze, the one that reminded me of a bumblebee perched on her finger–a constant thought buzzing around my ear every time I saw it.

She seemed to never take it off, always on her index finger like an extension of her flesh–she had become the honey bee of my world, her presence dripping like honey before me, so close I could taste the sweet scent of her perfume, like wildflowers with a hint of vanilla, warm like basking in the glow of the sun.

"It's my favorite ring," she says, her voice distant as we both gaze down at the ring between my fingers, ready to wiggle it off.

Then the interview becomes a blur of motions as soon as I say, "I'll trade you?"

And when she peers up at me, a slow smile spreads on her face, and it's like the crowd, the cameras, all the noise dissolves into white noise, and I'm sinking, a peculiar kind of drowning–willingly letting myself float into her essence, the very being of her existence, moving between my fingers like water through a slow moving stream. It was like nothing I could explain; it was everything all at once. It was only her real and solid after existing for so long as pixels on a screen, only a lush voice in my ear.

I knew I had to keep my composure, and we played out our bit accordingly, each moment carefully constructed, holding a sense of calm for the public even though we both knew what was happening beneath the surface. "Pick any ring..." I nudge her, holding out my hand, and her eyes flit over each one.

And with each second that passed, that careful composure threatened to crack, my practiced smile nearly coming undone. Every second was me fighting the urge to reach out to her, to collapse the space between us, that paper-thin veil crafted to keep us both in check. "Okay, so you're like serious—Harry Styles is offering me a ring y'all–" she joked, playing up the camera.

She saved us both that day, her professionalism unwavering, even though I could see it in her eyes, "I like the teddy bears in this one," she tells me, pointing to my Grateful Dead ring.

"Take it...it's yours..." I push ahead of myself, and she laughs, but my heart is racing out of control, and I know I'm giving myself away, completely–my want a desperate need aching inside me.

Then she slides the stone ring off her finger and looks up at me, and I'm holding my breath as she smooths the smile from her red-painted lips. "This is the first piece of jewelry I've ever bought myself," she explains, biting her lower lip.

"I promise to take care of it...which ring did you choose?" I ask, calmer this time, knowing that she's going to do it, give me a tiny piece of her to take with me, and I know it will be the only thing that will get me through this night, keep me sane when the distance has to stretch between us again.

As we both peer down, the world around us falls away. It's like time seems to stretch into something tangible between us, a charge building as the possibilities hum at the tips of our fingers so close that they're almost touching—a tender moment that's ours and ours alone as Shiloh's eyes trace each ring on my hand, and then my eyes flick to her face, watching as she smoothes those perfect lips together.

"That's time, guys!" Someone shouts out, but it's faint. When Shiloh's eyes meet mine, there's a moment of understanding, unspoken and clear—suddenly, this is just jewelry; it's about the sense of belonging we both seem to crave. It's a reminder that even when the cameras stop rolling and we have to return to our separate lives, something will stay with her, with me.

Another tether, a reason to come back.

For a breath, neither of us moves, caught in this fragile moment, aware of every camera documenting this sacred exchange, but suddenly unable to muster the will to care. How strange that such an intimate gesture could happen under the harsh glare of a spotlight, the world watching, speculating, already hungry for whatever narrative they were going to spin from these seconds.

Yet in that moment I didn't give a single fuck.

"Harry—Shiloh--" Annie's voice cuts through, professional but gentle. "We need to keep moving."

Then Shiloh taps the silver band of dancing bears on my finger, and I slip it off with a smile, pushing it onto her finger. All the while, Shiloh's eyes never leave my face, and when I glance up, she's smiling.

"That's time, guys!" Someone shouts again, roaring the world back in motion around us, and I nod, my eyes locked on Shiloh's face as something unfinished lingers between us.

When I reach out an empty hand, she drops her ring in my palm. "I'll take care of it," I promise her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "Until later..." I finish trying to move past her, and ever so slightly, she tugs on the sleeve of my jacket, and this time, when I meet her eyes again, her face is only inches away, and as I move away, her eyes never leave mine.

She doesn't say a word, just stares back at me, her big green eyes glazed over with a look of wonderment, a dazed smile playing at her lips, and I wink, pushing the mic into her hand, right before I turn away.

And when glance back over my shoulder, Olivia is filling the empty space in front of Shiloh, and my heart drops. 

A/N: Man, the slow burn almost feels worth it. Now the ball is rolling, friends! Can't wait! Tag List is always open for future updates. Let me know in the comments! So sorry for the crazy long delay on this one guys, but we're back, for good, seeing this one through, so please put your faith in me and jump back in. It will be fun I promise!!

LET'S TALK ABOUT IT: FINALLY they've come face to face! it could only go up from here, right?

->chat with me<-

Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @sassamanda77 @babegoalsreads @palmettogal508 @indierockgirrl @lizsogolden @sexymfharriet @pologoonies @amateurduck

All Chapters Here <-

[sageisnicethesequel]

Pain but in a good way..

[freakalot]

"did you just spank me?" ☆

choso has wide eyes in the mirror's reflection as they meet yours. glossy and blown out with lust, but wide—nervous, like a deer stuck in headlights. you're bent over, back arched down as your boyfriends hands rest gently on your hips. there's a sting that lingers over your ass, and choso is holding his hand out like he's committed a crime with it.

it's not like he's vanilla—you're being fucked ass-up in front of a mirror so that you can watch him take what's his—but he's frozen still like he's appalled at his own actions.

"oh," he's flushing a gentle pink. "i'm sorry, i don't know why i did that. it was just so much and you were so—i mean... i wasn't thinking and—"

"do it again."

he's still balls deep inside of you—hips pressed tight against the flesh of your ass: his cock pulses inside of you, each veiny ridge filling you out like you're made for him. "why would i do that?"

“because it feels good,” you shrug, pushing back onto his cock a little. "cho, baby, i'm asking you to spank me, not commit a war crime."

"might as well be," he mumbles under his breath, looking down at the curve of your ass at his face scrunches up into an expression you've never seen on him before. is that... restraint?

your poor choso has never been all that good at controlling his wants and whims. he's a man whose body often betrays him: he couldn't hold an orgasm back to save his life, nor can he ever stifle those pretty moans of his. much like how he couldn't stop his hand from smacking against the flesh of your ass.

so, of course, you goad him on. clenching tight around his achy cock as you meet his gaze in the mirror. "i want you to spank me again, choso. be mean. make it hurt when i sit down tomorrow."

"i don't want to hurt you."

"don't you? you spanked me first, cho. i think you want it even more than i do."

his eyebrows furrow. its devastatingly cute for a man balls-deep inside of you. "shut up," he says with no real bite. "i didn't mean to."

"your hand just slipped and landed on my ass?"

"...yes."

you roll your eyes, and offer choso a smile in the mirrors reflection. “you look all embarrassed. just like that time you came just from kissing m—fuck!”

a sharp sting radiates over your ass cheek, and once you blink the shock out of your eyes, you’re met with a very sudden snapping of chosos hips into yours. he somehow manages to fuck you even deeper than before. with every thrust he sends you forward on the bed, until you’re no longer holding yourself up with your arms and your face is pressed right into the mattress.

“you always-” smack! “-make me feel-” smack! “-so nervous around you.”

your face screws up. “what?”

he stills, leans forward to take the sheet away from your face so you can look back at him properly. “i’m punishing you.”

“for what, giving you butterflies?”

“yes.” the sweetest of smiles pulls at his lips—you’d think it endearing if not for the way his hand slaps down onto your ass again, and he resumes his mean pace.

live and let cum, you suppose. choso drills into you in such a way that you’re cumming both quicker and harder than you ever have with him. your orgasm, the sweet way your pussy grips him in pleasured need, sends choso over the edge right after you. “mmm iloveyouiloveyouimsorryforspankingyouiloveyou”

of course with another mean spank to your ass, choso pulls out and exhales the prettiest moan you’ve heard from him as he releases all over your tender ass. you’re spent, and fucked so dumb you don’t chide him for then using his fingers to rub his cum around in soothing circles over your ass. you won’t admit it, but it feels kinda nice.

“sorry,” choso whispers as he reaches for something to wash you down with. “you should slap me as payback.”

“you’d probably like it.”

“…yeah.”

[asxgard]

I wanted something where Abbott gets involved with a younger resident — maybe everyone in the ER knows about it, except the interns, since it’s their first day. Maybe the resident doesn’t like Trinity’s style, and Trinity goes to complain to Jack, but Jack defends his resident.

In Your Defense | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!resident!reader

Requested

Summary: After getting on your nerves all day, you and Santos finally go toe-to-toe over a patient. Jack comes to your defense.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’ve been floating around ideas of my own of Jack with a resident👀so this was fun!

Sorry it took a bit! I got distracted with a few other things, and I wanted to make sure Companionship got out yesterday. Plus, this became a lot longer than I originally intended. I hope you like it @mayabbot !

Word Count: 2.7k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: age gap, semi-established relationship, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, mild Santos hate due difference in style, Pittfest

not beta read

The thing about Dr. Jack Abbot was, you did not need a label to know what you meant to him. There was no officiality of a title, even though you were both serious about each other — but frankly, the title was just a word. You knew where you stood, spending nights in his apartment and cooking breakfast together. He never hesitated to remind you that you belonged to him. Not in the overly possessive way, but in the silent always there type of way.

Jack had a past, and while you never pushed, he opened slowly. He had held you out of reach for some time before you realized what was truly brewing between you, and after he began to share, you thought the slow, quiet way you existed around each other was enough. He had loved and lost, he had fought and sacrificed, so you always assured him there was no rush. Not with you. You supposed there would be something to be said when you finished your residency, since that was a big priority in your life, but that was still a year away.

Like most things, your relationship with Jack did not stay secret for long in the halls of the Pitt. You really should have known better — Princess and Perlah were bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out things like that, and the bet did little to keep it private. You were unsure who had started it, but you were surprised that it was Robby who had walked away with the money. It felt like cheating, since he had insider knowledge after catching the two of you at a bar, but you never said anything.

Waking up in his bed alone was not uncommon — since after your dayshifts you sometimes would just wander to his apartment as opposed to your own. You would curl into his sheets and his smell, even when he would not be home all night. He never minded, and frankly even encouraged it. Working opposite shifts than him cut back on time you had together, but you knew it was only a matter of time before you were back on nights due to your flip-flopping schedule.

He looked worn down when you arrived at the Pitt for your shift, bright-eyed from a full night's rest in his bed. He followed you into the staff lounge so you could put your lunch away and he poured a bit of coffee to top off your thermos.

“Is it a ‘good morning’ type of morning, or a quiet ‘let me contemplate’ type of morning?”

He pursed his lips, “Neither. I lost a vet last night, spent two hours coding him.”

You sucked in a breath, knowing it had been a rough one for him. Those nights were far and few between, but never handled them very well. He was getting better, but oftentimes, he found himself on the roof.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” You said, knowing there was not much to say that would actually make it feel any better. “I made dinner last night, I left some leftovers in your fridge.”

He nodded, “At least we’ll have tonight and tomorrow together.”

You smiled, “I’m looking forward to it. Meet at yours?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

You chuckled, “Go get some rest, old man.”

An eyebrow rose in a challenge, “You won’t be saying that later.”

You smirked, “Counting on it.”

He gave you a rushed kiss on the lips, ensuring it was quick and private, before he was out the door. You sipped on your coffee and let out a long sigh, moving towards the charge desk and greeting Dana with a grin.

You let out a low whistle when you looked up at the board, “Damn, they got hammered last night.”

Frank Langdon stepped beside you to lean against the desk, “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to say the Q word? Don’t you dare, or I swear to god.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “It was one time over a year ago. Who do I look like? Shen? I’m no longer an amatuer.”

“I’m so glad I don’t work with him much. He’s like a walking jinx at this point.”

“He’s not so bad.” You laughed, “I see we got some newbies.”

Langdon glanced over his shoulder, “Two med students, an intern and an R2.”

“Oh, fun.”

—

You learned all the new faces over the course of the next hour. You found you liked the med students well enough, and the R2, Melissa King, but the intern was beginning to rub you the wrong way. Calloused and indifferent did not mesh well in the chaos of the Pitt, or the team player attitude Robby always tried to instill in everyone.

Santos was the type of person you had vehemently disliked during your med student rotations, and after hearing a few cruel nicknames she had picked for Whitaker and Javadi, you brought it to Langdon’s attention. According to Jack, Langdon had walked into the Pitt with the same type of overconfident attitude, and Robby had taken him under his wing and straightened him out. Maybe you thought he would pass on the wisdom. Not to mention, it took the drama off your plate. You had enough worries keeping your relationship with Jack away from Gloria’s ears, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in the middle of something.

“Trust me, I hear you. She already ordered something without clearing it with me first.”

Your nose scrunched in annoyance, “We don’t need someone like that down here.”

“Maybe you could let her shadow you…” he said, a smile growing as your annoyance did. “Show her the ropes. You know, that whole no-nonsense but still empathetic thing you’ve got going on might be right up her alley. You’d be a wonderful teacher.”

You deadpanned, “You owe me. Like super, major—”

“You’re the best!”

You wished you had gone to Collins instead.

Try as you did, the brashness of Santos did not quell under your careful hand and you grew more frustrated with her poor bedside manner and knack for doing things before clearing them. Just when you stepped away to use the restroom, she ordered BPAP for one of your patients and nearly killed him. Yelling was not in your wheelhouse, nor was letting something like this get the better of you, but as the shift ticked on, your fuse grew shorter. Screaming would be the worst teaching tool, but she seemed to railroad over any and all of your advice.

You passed her off to Mohan to take an hour seeing your own patients without Santos’ shadow. At the end of the hour, Mohan only gave you a knowing glance before getting back to it. By the time you went to complain to Langdon, he had disappeared. Just a bit after that, Robby sent Collins home.

Taking a deep breath, you pep-talked yourself into holding it in until the end of your shift. Then you could pass the news on to Robby and go home to forget about it.

—

When the mass casualty event was called, you fiddled with your hands, rubbing anxious circles on one of your palms. The shift had beat you up and left you out to dry, and you knew you were not likely to get out on time. Anxiety thrummed through your system, or perhaps it was the anticipation

Jack’s face was a welcomed one and you wanted to thank whoever you could that he had showed up when he did, a mess of supplies from his truck. With both Robby and Jack at the head of this, you knew the team would get through it. One patient at a time.

Robby placed you in the pink zone, with instructions to float over to yellow if they needed help. Jack found you in the supply closet trying to grab what you could to prepare for the influx in your zone, and he seemed to read you like your shift had been written on your face.

The braindead boy who no one could help. The drowned little girl no one could have saved. Dana being punched by an angry patient, which set your teeth on edge. The anguished screams of grieving family members. Your frustration with the cocky intern. Langdon abandoning you. Collins going home early. The anticipation of all the blood and loss that was sure to be waiting for you as soon as the first cars arrived with the Pittfest victims.

He squeezed your hand, “Find me if you need anything. I got you.”

There it was, that silent, all-knowing ‘always here’ anchor you had needed given in just a few simple words and a giant gesture. You smiled at him and squeezed his back, exhausted and relieved all at once.

You kicked it into gear, getting to work in your zone. Trying to ignore the tragedy around you and just focus on the medicine was easier said than done, especially getting more and more covered in blood as the shift dragged on. It truly was a blur, except for the fact that each patient was clear as day in your head.

Intubating, assessing, applying pressure to wounds, checking on the status of the operating rooms for your more critical patients, forwarding a few to red. Rinse. Repeat. A never ending cycle of carnage.

Mel whizzed past you and you looked back down at your patient, checking his pulse points. He was as stable as he was going to get, and you waved McKay over to him so you could run by yellow zone to see if they needed anything.

Whitaker’s wide eyes greeted you, “She’s doing a REBOA.”

You stopped dead, “What? Who?”

His eyes looked over to Santos, who was leaning over a patient. All the blood rushed from your head, anger and fear tangling together.

Mel was beside you then, tapping her fingers together in an anxious fashion, “I told her—I tried—“

You swallowed before rushing forward. She had already inserted the balloon, and there was not much you could do. You had only done one before, during a mass pile up over a year before, but it was under Jack’s careful supervision.

“Are you insane?” You hissed low, trying not to cause a scene.

Santos only glanced at you, “Patient was bleeding out, need to—“

“No, no, no, no.” Something snapped and all the frustration you had been feeling all day came barreling out of you. “What you need to do, Dr. Santos, is clear shit like this with your senior resident. With an attending. Literally anyone else. Mel already told you no and what do you do? This is how people die. Doctors feeding their own fucking egos and not letting themselves be checked.”

She simply stared at you, “It’s already—“

“No, this was rash.” You glanced down at the patient, seeing that the balloon was likely already in place, but from Donnie’s grim features, the patient was not doing much better. “If it worked? Amazing, great. You saved a patient. But if you keep doing this shit, someone is going to die. You’re not as infallible as you seem to think you are.”

You felt him before you saw him, a once calming presence now beside you and it made all your hairs stand on end. Like you had been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

At the hospital, he was your attending, you were the resident and you definitely should not have lost your cool like that in the middle of the shitstorm that was already occurring. You physically braced yourself, steeling your composure and trying not to wince. Jack did not scold in public, but you had made a scene.

Jack’s attention had been pulled away from his patient at a particular voice carrying through the air, growing louder as it continued. Your voice. Unmistakable and in the chaos, completely unnerving. It was not like you to shout, or yell, especially in the mess the Pitt had found itself in. He was walking towards your voice without even thinking about it, gait rushed but not running.

“She performed a REBOA.” Mel told Jack as he approached, eyeing each of you warily. “I told her not to.” She gestured to you. “She told her not to.”

You felt Jack’s eyes on your face, and you glanced over to him. He took in your features and looked back to Santos.

“A REBOA? Are you shitting me?”

“Dr. Abbot, I couldn’t get any of the attendings and the patient was bleeding out. No other options.” Santos told him, looking at you again. “I don’t think her yelling about it, or at me right now is exactly—“

“She is a resident and you are an intern. You never should have done that on your own, ever.”

You blinked, half surprised, half thankful. You never wanted your relationship with him to bleed into the professional act you two played whenever you were in the hospital. You never wanted him to play favorites or defend you when you didn’t deserve it. But a part of you relished in him supporting you. Especially after dealing with her going over your head your entire shift.

Two nightshift nurses — Alma and Riley — and Donnie exchanged knowing glances, hiding their smirks well, while Santos just stood there. Jack looked back to you and raised an eyebrow, asking if you were okay without any words.

You gave him the tiniest of nods, likely not to be seen as anything more than a twitch, but Jack caught it easily. You were okay, for the most part anyway. You could talk to him about all of it later. You hoped this could all be behind you soon, as mild embarrassment for yelling in the ED crept up your cheeks. You would pass along the information to Robby and let him handle it. He would be likely to scold you for losing your cool and yelling like he had earlier with Langdon, who was now back floating through zones with little explanation as to why he had left.

Santos looked between you two like she was trying to read you.

Jack had his focus back on the patient, asking Donnie for her vitals.

“Carotid’s weak. Radial’s barely there.” Donnie said.

“Another three cc’s in the balloon.” Jack advised and Santos followed the instruction.

Whitaker looked up, “Radial’s much stronger now.”

“Lock the balloon. Check the wound.”

“Wound’s dry, barely a trickle.”

“That’s because there’s no blood going to her legs.” Mel whispered from beside you.

“Get IR and Vascular on the case.”

The patient began coming to, opening her eyes and looking around her tiredly. There was a relief in the sight, but the fact that this would only make Santos more bold in the future made you worry.

Jack leaned in close to Santos, “That was reckless and could have killed the patient. You need to follow the chain of command here.”

Santos gave a tense nod, her tiny smile disappearing.

You stepped away when Jack did, finding a few moments when you pulled off your gown to replace it with a fresh one. He stepped behind you to tie it while you reached for new gloves.

“It’s been a shift.” You explained simply, not even needing him to open his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“We can talk about it later.”

You turned to face him, “No, if you’re going to scold me, I’d rather you do it now. Get it out of the way.”

He studied your face. “Can’t change anything now. She did save the patient, but she could've just as easily made it worse. And you lost it for a minute. You know as well as anyone that yelling achieves nothing.”

You cringed, remembering your med school days.

“But you weren’t wrong.” He added, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him. “She took an unnecessary risk and hopefully next time, will try to find an attending, or a resident. I’ll mention it to Robby, maybe he can help her get back on track. The Pitt doesn’t need any more egos, I think we’re at capacity.”

A small smirk broke through on your lips, “Thank you.”

“You feel good enough to get back to it?” He raised a careful eyebrow.

You took a breath and nodded. You parted without ceremony, heading back to your respective zones and got lost in the work.

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged

Did my own feelings about Santos bleed into this? …maybe. She grew on me, but oh my god she really was getting on my last nerve for most of this season. I hope season 2 comes with some growth from her.

[tojisun]

no matter how hard you try, you just can’t make yourself cum tonight.

the position is wrong, your toy is still dead as hell so you had to resort to using your fingers, but those aren’t hitting somewhere deep and scratching that itch you have of wanting to be filled, and it has you crying in frustration.

god, you just wanted to fuck yourself into a good orgasm once. but your fingers are starting to feel numb, and your arm is cramping up, and you feel annoyingly sore already. you know you should call it quits; that you should just douse the flames of your desire with a cold shower and just retire for the night, but you are so, so stubborn and angry and—

you snarl, ripping your fingers out of your cunt before twisting to snatch your phone from where you’d flung it close to the wall. you use your clean hand, wiping the other one on your bedsheets—you might have to wash them tonight, anyway—and sends a message to johnny.

cant cum <

fuck me pls <

you drop your phone to your stomach, hearing yourself heave as your body catches up to the exhaustion. you stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the blazing heat and the soreness and the emptiness, and focusing instead on the little spark of need that you refuse to extinguish because you know johnny. you know he’d reply soon.

(he’s always fucked you good; filled you up with slurring words crooned to your ears, his big hands stretching across your stomach because he swears underneath all this skin and fat, he feels his cock fucking in, in, in.

he loves taunting you when your quiet tears turn into soft sobs—ye gonna cum soon, bon? show me yer cummin’ face, huh? c’mon bon.

he is so, so mean, and you need nothing less right now.)

true to your thoughts, your phone buzzes two minutes later. you pick it back up, grunting in confusion when instead of johnny’s name, you see john’s.

is he alright? did he need something from you? god, you think he’d let you do it tomorrow or at least in a couple of hours?

you tap at the notification, only to feel the curiosity bleed out of you to be replaced with startling horror. it’s like ice water was dumped on you, extinguishing every embers of your libido because there, on your screen, was john. replying to your message.

you had—

> quite forward of you. well, since you asked so nicely, we’re on our way.

you had sent the message to—

three knocks—taptap-tap—suddenly thud on your door. you gasp, looking up from your phone to stare at your locked door, dreadful.

you sent it to the damn group chat.

-

part 02

[slttygeto]

HUSBAND SUGURU! + PREGNANCY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tags: fem! reader, husband suguru!, nsfw, suguru is very hesitant about being a dad, but isnt forced into this :), reader is very motherly, dirty talk and talk about getting off the pill and being bred.

word count: 2,1k

Husband Suguru! whom before you even got married, sat you down and mentioned to you how starting a family wasn’t something he was looking forward to. you know of his past, of the trauma he’s been through. he fully expects you to break up with him when he tells you that, knows how much you want to have a baby of your own, but you don’t. instead, you cradle him in your arms and tell him that you love him and appreciate what you have right now, not what you don’t even see in the picture.

Husband Suguru! who swears he hasn’t changed his mind about babies, about starting a family in general even three years into the marriage. but when he sees you with your friend’s baby, the glow on your face, the motherly instinct—how you gently place your hand on the baby’s head, rock her back and forth and coo at her softly while her mother gets her food ready, his heart feels as though it is about to explode.

“There there baby girl,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and when the baby cries, your lip juts out and you pull the infant towards your chest in an attempt at soothing her. your eyes find his where he is sitting on the couch, and the lighthearted chuckle you give him pulls a nervous one out of his body. you are now convinced that your husband would never ever change his mind based on the horror painting his features as he turns to your friend’s husband to strike a conversation. but in reality, the topic of their conversation is all too surprising.

“Has it been difficult? You know, managing a career and taking care of the baby,”

“Oh yeah very,” the other man admits but Suguru doesn’t detect a single hint of regret in his voice. “but yknow, look at that,” he point his glass of water in the direction of his wife and you holding the baby. “seeing my wife with our baby, our creation—seeing her act all motherly like that? Totally worth it.”

Husband Suguru! who starts to consider the idea of getting you pregnant. he hopes for the rational part of his brain to win over, rather than the horny, disgustingly perverted one. but when you walk out of the shower in a crop top, his mind drifts elsewhere—and suddenly, the image of your belly swollen with his kids floods his mind and he has to put a pillow on his crotch to hide the very evident bulge in his pants.

Husband Suguru! who once he calms down and takes care of his raging boner, texts Satoru in a hurry, asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning. your husband tells you of his plans and you hum sleepily, telling him how catching up with his best friend seems like a good idea. Suguru drops the bomb on his best friend the moment they sit down and the ivory haired’s jaw almost meets the floor.

“You mean you wanna be a dad?”

“I’m not…too sure,” Suguru looks conflicted, he is holding his head in his hands. he knows very well that this is a topic that should be discussed with you, since you were the other person of interest in the situation. but he would hate to give you false hope, he’s seen the way your eyes light up at the mention of a baby, at one of your friends or colleagues being pregnant, how there’s a disappointed look on your face that you try so hard to conceal when Suguru gives you a face in response of a pregnancy announcement. but you are so patient, so accepting, you’ve never once forced him into anything. and truth be told, he wanted to see what kind of mother you would be to your baby—and then toddler, and then teenager and adult—you’d have a life together with a new person who would adapt either your personality or his, with a face of the love of his life. your baby could have your eyes and nose, he’s always pointed them out—even before you started dating.

“Dude, do you or do you not want to have a baby?”

“I don’t know man, it’s hard to think of.”

“Because you are thinking too hard about it,” Satoru says nonchalantly and it irks Suguru a little.

“I am not thinking too hard about it—this is a new responsibility, what if I am not fit to be a dad? I could be a failure for all we know—what if I pussy out of it and—“

“I would kill you.” Satoru warns the man and Suguru doesn’t try to hide how he stiffens up. “I am not joking, I would find you and bring you back to her as a sack of bones,”

“I wouldn’t betray her like that…”

“You’re too focused on the aspect of being a bad dad rather than a good one—yknow, you really think that she’d marry someone she doesn’t see fit as the future father of her children?” Satoru has a point. you did mention to him once (when Suguru was nowhere to be seen at a party you all attended) how falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but the one thing that would top it is if he became a father to your children. Satoru, knowing his best friend’s stance on the topic, reminded you of how terrified the man was of the idea and all you did was give him a reassuring, understanding wave of your hands.

“I know, but I just know he’d love them hard and make them feel as safe as he makes me feel.”

Husband Suguru! who doesn’t really try to bring up the topic of ‘trying for a baby’. he cringes at the thought, feels as though it makes the process less romantic and intimate and more of a robotic task. as he is stripping you of your clothes, he is silent and lets his eyes wander over your figure. you are extremely shy tonight, unable to meet his eyes as his rough, calloused hands brush over the skin of your boobs before bending down to be at eye level with them. he brings the flesh inside his mouth and sucks—and blood rushes down to his groin at the thought of them being filled with milk, heavy and swollen, more sensitive than usual. his teeth graze the skin at an attempt to catch your attention and your thighs squeeze as you meet his eyes.

“Sugu…” your smaller hands rest on his face as he pulls away from your boobs to plant a heated kiss to your lips, effectively pushing you back on the bed. your back gently hits the mattress, and your chest is heaving in anticipation, unsure of what his next move would be.

“Baby,” he finally speaks up, nose brushing against your stomach as he brings his lips to the skin. “how about you drop the pill tomorrow?” he knows how much of a horrible job he is doing at this, but he feels you move, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“w-why would I do that?” your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Suguru wishes to brush his thumb over the tense skin of your forehead.

Suguru is shameless as he kisses further south, planting his kiss above the tuft of your pubic hair before pushing your panties to the side. He parts the lips and gives your clit a kiss before moving to your inner thighs.

“why not? It’s doing horrible things to your body—“ he brushes his nose over your clit as he speaks. “beside, we need you off the pill if we want a baby, don’t you think?” when you don’t react to his words, Suguru looks up only to find you staring down at him with parted lips and eyes glossed over with tears.

“…are you sure?” you ask softly, and your husband swears he could never say no to you if you asked like that all the time.

“very,”

Husband Suguru! who fucks you with a new purpose. each drive of his hips fueling the other to go harder, deeper, to keep pushing his cum inside you and plant his seed deep within. your cunt does a great job at showing Suguru how ecstatic and excited you are with his sudden change of heart. you keep squeezing around him, barely able to keep your sounds in—he fucks you so deeply that the sound of skin to skin is louder than your moans and his groans. when he puts you on all fours, the cum starts to drip out of you but he pushes it back in with two thick fingers, lips pressed to your ass cheek.

“want more?”

“mmm! please,” you whine when he aligns his tips with your folds and fixes your arch with a hand on the small of your back. the gasp that escapes your lips when he fucks into you hard makes Suguru chuckle and he rubs your sides, soothing you.

“no need to beg for it,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your nape. “I’d gladly fill you up.”

Husband Suguru! who stiffens up when you show him the positive pregnancy test. up until this point, he is in control of his emotions—he lets you cry in his arms about how scary all of this was, despite you saying you’ve always wanted a baby. he is supportive, understanding of the heightened emotions that you are experiencing—when he sees your tears turn into happy ones, only half of him is able to relax. clearly, he is nervous but he doesn’t wanna show it. not right now.

The first ultrasound during your pregnancy was nerve racking—your hand squeezed your husband’s as you stared at the screen showing what appeared to be your unborn baby. Very tiny, but still there.

“Okay mom and dad,” the doctor presses the ultrasound transducer a bit lower on your stomach, a small smile on his face. “I got some news for you.”

“Good?” your anxious voice has Suguru rubbing his thumb on the back on your hand.

“It depends, how long have you been trying for this baby?” You couldn’t exactly disclose of your very active sex life, but you do give the doctor hints that it was definitely wanted.

“Well, look over here—“ he points to the screen with his gloved finger, ushering Suguru to come closer. “Look over here dad, what do you see?”

Suguru swallows hard as he stares at the screen in confusion, unsure of what to say. “..a baby?”

“Babies. Congratulations, you’re pregnant with twins.”

Your husband whips his head towards you fast, and you cover your mouth in shock. This wasn’t planned—twins? And for a first time? You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were of excitement or fear that maybe you weren’t ready for this.

But Suguru still comforts you, holds you in his arms—tells you that maybe finding out the gender won’t make all of this sound scary anymore. He knew you never really had a preference for gender—you were a natural mom.

However, finding out the gender was an emotional experience for the same man who never thought he would become a father.

Husband Suguru! who tells Satoru to buy the gender reveal cake for you two. he doesn’t want to throw a party, and neither do you. finding out within the privacy of your own home seemed like the best option—you didn’t want to reveal that you were pregnant to any family members—at least not yet.

“Are you ready?” You hold your own glass as you wait for your husband to stand next to you. Your bump wasn’t that evident yet, but signs of pregnancy were starting to show on your body and it brought this warm feeling to Suguru’s body.

“Yeah, hold my hand.” You chuckle slightly at his request but comply either way. Each of you holds their own glass above the cake before looking away as you push it down—you hold your breath, Suguru rests his forehead on your shoulder as he mumbles something about not being able to look at the cake. But you muster up the courage and lift your glass, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

“Sugu—“ you don’t need to tell him to look, he was already staring at the glass with teary eyes. The pink frosting wasn’t something he was expecting to see—he knew he was going to be happy with either but two little girls? His own baby girls—the thought of being a girl dad brings tears to his eyes and you’re quickly pulling him towards you.

“Oh baby,” you hold back your own tears as you comfort your emotional husband, his arms wrapped around your middle. You hear little sniffles and a hand rubs your back before feeling a pair of lips pressed to your forehead.

“Gonna be the prettiest mom to the prettiest girls. Ever.”   

note: my posts are all self indulgent at this point… enjoy :D

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[sungbeams]

MIDNIGHT IN MILAN — lhs

they say love makes you do stupid things...surely fucking your boyfriend in the bathroom at the prada after party when your relationship isn't even public and neither of you can afford a dating scandal isn't that stupid, right?

⟡ ┆ pairing. lee heeseung x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, established relationship, idol AU (both heeseung and yn)

⟡ ┆ warnings. semi-public sex, unprotected sex, mirror sex, mild choking, creampie, fingering, tiniest hint of degradation (he calls her a slut like once), one singular spank, some hair pulling, not really any aftercare

⟡ ┆ word count. 6.4k

⟡ ┆ note. i know the hype around tipsy hee already died down but i simply couldn't let this go. started writing it literally the same day the pictures dropped, then got hit with a massive writers block and only recently managed to finish this. biggest thanks to @jayparked who listened to me complain about this fic and contemplate just deleting it all. this fic wouldn't be here without her :(

"Fuck, Hee—" your broken moans echo off the dark walls around you as you throw your head back at the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot that has your hips chasing after his, "feels so good. Don't stop, please don't stop."

"Not planning to, baby," Heeseung grunts out his reply, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you back to meet his sharp thrusts, sending shockwaves up your spine all the way to your head, making you feel woozy at the intense pleasure overwhelming your senses.

Your gazes meet in the mirror in front of you, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up. One of his hands moves up your body, his fingers wrapping around your throat and applying slight pressure to it to cut off the needy whines spilling from your mouth. Your eyes roll back at the sensation, head falling forward and your body crashing into the counter beneath you, your arms too weak to hold yourself up anymore. 

"That's my good girl, so desperate for my cock, huh?" Heeseung smirks to himself, continuing to roll his hips into yours. He wants to tug on your hair, hold you in place so he can look at your fucked-out face, but he knows he needs to be careful not to wreck you too much, not to leave any marks — or at least none that leave no doubt as to what you're doing here.

Truly, the two of you should be ashamed about what you're doing, but neither of you can bring yourself to care — not in the slightest. Right now, the only thing you're concerned about is Heeseung's cock repeatedly drilling past your folds into your soaked heat, how snug your walls feel around him, hugging him, molding to his shape with each snap of his hips. Maybe come tomorrow when you wake up and you think back to this moment, you'll bury your head in your hands and wonder what drove you to make such stupid, such careless decisions. 

After all, you are currently having sex with your boyfriend in a private powder room at an afterparty you had been invited to as brand ambassadors. You should be professional. Mingling with people, maybe having a drink, getting some of your pictures taken, but no, instead you're getting your guts rearranged by a man barely anyone knows is your boyfriend.

In your defense, the past few days had been beyond stressful, and you hadn’t been able to get any alone time with Heeseung in what feels like forever. Not during the busy days ahead of your flight to Italy, not during the 14-hour plane ride from Seoul to Milan for Fashion Week, and certainly not during all the schedules you had the past two days. Moments of privacy had been sparse, reduced to rare bathroom breaks since you shared a hotel room with one of the other members of your group.

----

Stepping out of the van to attend the afterparty, you force an effortless smile onto your face, repeatedly reminding yourself that this was your last schedule of the night and then you'd get a night of sleep just to hop onto another seemingly everlasting flight back home where you’ll be greeted with at least a few days without any public appearances. So you push yourself to ignore the ache in your feet from wearing heels all day, ignoring the throbbing in your head from the lack of sleep, food, and water, which only intensifies from the flurry of flashing cameras greeting you, or the pinch in your lower back from where you assume a safety pin must've come loose.

Hours pass by in the blink of an eye, pictures being taken with either your fellow group members or other celebrities and influencers also attending the party; a drink gets pushed into your hands, and the alcohol momentarily numbs your body and washes the pain away, allowing your shoulders to relax and your breaths to deepen as you take in your surroundings. Lo and behold, a few feet away from where you are, you find him standing: Heeseung. Hands in his pockets as he's talking to some unidentifiable celebrity in front of him.

Almost as if he feels your gaze on him, he glances away from the man before him, your eyes meeting for a brief moment. You take an involuntary step forward, like he's drawing you right in, before your manager steps in your line of sight, "They want a picture of you girls with Enhypen, something about wanting the two K-Pop groups attending in one picture together."

You nod your head at her words, trying to steal one last look at your boyfriend, only to see him walking right in your direction, together with Sunoo and Jungwon trailing after him, their manager leading them right to where you're walking to.

A staff member pushes and pulls you all into position, telling you where to stand and how to pose, and by some sort of miracle you end up right next to your boyfriend. Your manager shoots you a quick look, and you teasingly roll your eyes at her as she's silently warning you to not make your relationship too obvious, seeing as your company has been pretty outspoken about not wanting the public to know about what was going on between Heeseung and you.

While the photographers look over their pictures, trying to decide if they need more or if they're satisfied with what they got, you lean slightly to your right, close enough so the man next to you would be able to hear your hushed whispers, "You know...I heard some people talking about there being private restrooms at this venue. Just thought I'd mention it in case you'd like a moment alone to take a bit of a breather from all the socializing."

"Oh? Is that so?" you can hear the slight smile in the low rumble of his voice as he leans down, masking his closeness by adjusting the leg of his pants, "Guess I'll have to check them out in a bit then."

"Alright, everyone, we'll take a few more pictures and then you can go back to the party," one of the photographers interrupts your conversation, drawing all attention back to the front. You position yourself slightly to the left again, creating more space between your boyfriend and you to avoid angering your managers.

A few more pictures taken, and you're finally released. Almost instantly, you excuse yourself from your group, beelining towards the aforementioned restrooms, making sure not to draw any attention to yourself despite your heart beating rapidly in your chest at the thought of some alone time with your boyfriend, sending blood rushing through your ears, loud enough to drown out the quick click-clacks of your heels against the tiled floor underneath you.

The anticipation is killing you as you're waiting for Heeseung to show up, staring at your phone just to see the status of your message to him with the details of exactly where you are change from 'delivered' to 'seen' right in front of your eyes. Minutes feel like hours as you tap your foot nervously against the marble floor beneath your feet, trying your best to ignore your throbbing pussy, your folds covered in your slick and clinging onto your underwear already — all just because of the mere thought of what he would do to you within these four walls.

You glance at your phone again when three rapid knocks followed by two more taps against the wooden door next to you startle you. Opening the door with a smile on your lips, you lean out slightly, your head turning left and right to scan the hallway, "Are you sure no one followed you?"

Wordlessly he nudges you back inside and closes the door behind you. His lips are on yours in an instant, moving with familiar desperation as he pushes you against the closed door. His hands are all over you, grasping onto your hips, pulling them flush against him and allowing you to feel the growing bulge in his pants press against your lower abdomen. Your heart beats erratically in your chest — the sound almost drowning out the soft clicking of the lock turning behind your back — hands scrambling to find something to hold onto as lust takes over you, clouding your mind. His lips work against yours in a beautiful frenzy, rushed but still taking his time, nipping at your lower lip, entangling his tongue with yours in a passionate dance that wordlessly tells you everything you need to know.

Your body relaxes right against his, all tension melting away with each movement, the space between you charged with tension, thick and hot, as Heeseung pulls away. 

"Don't worry, we're all alone, baby," he breathes against your lips as his mouth trails down to your neck, eagerly covering your skin in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle themselves in his hair. 

The tiny voice in a deep, dark corner of your mind tells you not to mess it up, not to leave a single trace for people to suspect what the two of you left the party for, to avoid any scandal at all costs. But your need to be as close as possible to your boyfriend overrides any and all logic left inside you, so you ignore it, pulling him closer to you instead and letting him graze your skin wherever he desires. Contrary to you, he seems to still have some care for the consequences of your escapades, seeing as he moves down the collar of your dress to continue the path of his lips there, sucking and softly biting the supple flesh, leaving marks easily hidden. 

With his hand pressing against the small of your back, he pulls you away from the door, and the two of you stumble over towards the massive mirror situated behind the vanity of the powder room. Your ass digs into the cold marble of the counter as he crowds you against it, fingers holding your hips in a bruising grip — enough to almost hurt, the sensation just the right mix of pain and pleasure to pull a whimpered plea from your lips — before moving lower. His hands massaging your round cheeks has you biting your lip, whining as he lifts you up, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist just to feel his hard cock straining against his pants and press right into where you need him the most.

"Hee...please—" you cut yourself off with a moan, louder than you had anticipated, and he quietly shushes you in response.

“Shh, baby, we don't wanna get caught now, do we?"

His lips form into a smirk against your skin as you shake your head with a slight pout on your lips. You really don’t want to get caught; you don't want to even think about what it would mean for both of you if people found out about what the two of you are up to in here, but your mind is begging, screaming at you to let it all out, let him know how good he's making you feel.

"You can be loud in the hotel; how about that, sweetheart?”

Oh, screw him. Getting you worked up over the possibilities the future holds for you before even having you now.

Your reply comes in the form of a quiet whimper, mind wandering off to all the possibilities your soundproof hotel room offers. His hands snap you out of it, interrupting your train of thought as they push underneath the bottom hem of your dress, reaching for your soiled underwear to press his fingers right against your cunt, feeling just how absolutely soaked he has gotten you.

"Fuck, baby, what's gotten you this wet, huh?"

"You, Hee—" you exhale, chest heaving up and down as he toys with your clit through the damp cotton of your panties, hips bucking up to chase his fingers, "please...please just fuck me already."

“Love when you beg for me like this. Shit," he groans, eyes closing for a brief moment in a hopeless attempt to compose himself, panting like a dog as he pulls away from you. His hands move over the buckle of his belt in a frenzied rush, fumbling slightly before he manages to undo it, opening his zipper with shaking and twitching fingers. His pants hit the floor with a thud, joined by the black briefs he had been wearing underneath, and he's back on you before you even have a chance to gawk at his cock, thick and heavy, with an angry tip, red and leaking precum already. Despite having seen it multiple times, it still never fails to take your breath away each time you get a chance to look at it. 

His lips crash against yours in an almost bruising kiss, distracting you from his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, pushing it to the side as his other hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself a few times until he lets his head kiss your entrance. In one fluid movement he pushes himself inside you, both of you letting out synchronized moans as you feel your walls stretching around his girth. His size still surprises you, despite this not being the first time together with him, and even though your cunt is dripping — your slick arousal running down your folds just to pool underneath you — you're still having trouble taking him wholly. His throbbing length fills you up so well you swear you feel him all the way in your belly, gasping as you spread your legs wider to grant him even more access to your wet pussy.

His fingers find their way back down to your clit, no longer obstructed by your underwear, massaging it slowly to help you relax around him. And it works; your body lets go, tension melting from you as you allow him to pull back slightly and thrust back in again, slowly managing to push further and further into you until he fills you to the hilt, his hips making contact with your ass. Pressing your face against his shoulder, you try your best to muffle your moans. Your cunt molds itself around him with each clench of your walls, desperate whines tumbling past your lips as his cock pulsates deep inside of you, as you feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him. 

"Taking me so well, baby, such a good girl for me. You ready for me to move, sweet girl?"

You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words at all, mind fuzzy with pleasure. 

And he hasn't even started properly fucking you yet. 

Heeseung presses a gentle kiss against your lips, already swollen and raw, his bruising kisses lingering on them, before he begins to move, hips thrusting into your greedy hole as you cling to him, holding on tightly as best as you can. His forehead falls against yours, labored breaths mixing together and becoming one as you pant into each other's mouths, a needy blend of curses occasionally interrupted by your names tumbling from both of your lips. Your eyes meet his, losing yourself in them as they pull you in further and further. His gaze makes you want to shy away, intense and all-consuming, while at the same time it just as well makes you want to throw your head back, moan his name for everyone in this building to hear just how good he's making you feel.

"So good—fuck, feels so good, Heeseung," you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you lean further into his embrace, his arms holding you upright as the control of your own body slips further from your grasp.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly how you wanted him all night, his cock brushing right against your cervix with every thrust, his hands all over your body in a desperate frenzy, his mouth latched against yours, tasting you like a starved man. The feeling of having him all over you is overpowering your every sense, hopelessly trying — and failing — to keep your moans at bay, choking back a desperate whine in the back of your throat.

Heeseung can't help but coo slightly at you, your urgency going straight to his ego, as well as his cock, twitching deep within your spongy walls as he moves your legs to wrap them around his waist tighter as he grunts and groans, "Such a dirty thing, letting me fuck you right where anyone could hear us. Shit, gonna let me use your pretty cunt, gonna walk out there with my cum dripping down your legs like the little slut you are?"

Your answer comes in a whined 'yes' as you throw your head back, eyes screwing shut, hot sparks shooting through your whole body. Your legs twitch around his hips, nerves tingling as you start clamping down around him. Lust clouds your judgment, wanting to draw this out as much as you could, not wanting to cum just yet. Staying in here any longer than absolutely necessary wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do; in fact, it would be the complete opposite of smart. With every second the two of you are together in this restroom, his cock pressed deep inside you, brushing against your cervix, you risk the chances of getting caught, of someone hearing you moan out his name.

Fortunately for you, Heeseung seems to have a similar thought process. Slowly, his thrusts come to a halt, and he pulls out of you. The emptiness he leaves behind rips a pitiful whine from you, and he shushes you by pressing his lips against yours in a quick, gentle kiss before moving you off the counter and turning you around. You don't mind him manhandling you — you enjoy it even — his touches soft but forceful as he makes your back collide with his chest, your eyes meeting in the big mirror in front of you.

"Be a good girl and bend over for me."

His breath is hot against your ear, voice low and drenched with desire oozing off it thick like honey as you feel his cock dig into the flesh of your ass, the combined sensations sending shivers down your spine. His fingers graze your thighs as he lifts the bottom of your dress above your ass, letting it pool around your hips. Slowly, he pulls your underwear down your legs, his blunt nails scraping your burning skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. The ruined cotton falls to the tiled floor beneath your feet, transparent and sticky with your arousal, as you lean your torso onto the counter, holding yourself up with your shaking arms. You step out of them, blindly kicking them to the side to allow yourself more freedom to move.

Impatiently, you look over your shoulder, wiggling your ass to silently urge him to hurry up and get back to fucking you again. He can't resist the temptation, even if he would’ve attempted to try, running his hand over your bare ass, caressing your soft, round globes before landing a slap against your smooth skin — not a particularly harsh or painful one, not nearly as forceful as you know he’s capable of, but hard enough to send a wave of electricity through your body, a muffled sob falling from your lips at the sensation — before placing them back on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with a bruising grip.

Not wasting any more time, he slides right back inside you. The different angle pulls a moan from you, mixing with the low groan falling from Heeseung's mouth as your warm pussy embraces his cock. One of his hands presses against your back, pinning your front against the cold marble counter underneath you, your arms shaking as you scramble to find something to hold onto. The sounds tumbling past his lips make you clench around his length, the low rumble of his groans bouncing off the walls surrounding you, his chest heaving up and down with each erratic roll of his hips turning you into a panting mess as he repeatedly hits that one sensitive spot within you. You try your best to hold eye contact with him through the mirror, wanting nothing more than to see the pleasure clearly written on his face right as you cum, but you simply cannot. 

Your head falls forward, eyes screwing shut as you let pleasure take over you — your mind, your body, all of your senses.

His hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor, looking up briefly just to see his eyes trained right on where you're connected, watching his dick disappear within your creamy hole again and again, laser-focused as if he was in a trance. He pulls you back to him with each of his thrusts, making you meet him with even more force. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, your sobs joining the squelching sound of wet skin slapping against skin reverberating around the room. He drives inside you at a merciless pace, each thrust harder than the last one, making your entire body jolt at the force of them.

Heeseung steadies himself, taking his hand off your hip to place on the counter beside you, quickening his pace just slightly as his cock twitches inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

"Hee-'m so close," you whine, fingers clawing at the marble counter, legs shaking as you feel yourself inching closer and closer to the edge with each drag of his heavy cock inside of you, each snap of his hips against yours.

Heeseung throws his head back at the sensation of your cunt fluttering around him, groaning out as his nails bite into your skin, "Just a bit longer, baby, almost there."

His hand on your shoulder pulls you up, your back colliding with his chest as he continues the merciless pace of his thrusts. The angle at which he keeps fucking into you feels overwhelming, consuming your whole mind and body, yet pleasurable in the best way, and you swear this is the closest you've ever been to heaven before. Your soft whines and pants turn into moans, growing louder with every passing second as you hold onto Heeseung's arm wrapped around your front, pressing you into his chest.

In a moment of clarity, Heeseung notices just how loud your moans have gotten, and as much as it pains him, he knows he quickly has to think of something to silence you unless you want someone to hear you on the outside of the door, resulting in a guaranteed scandal. His solution: his hand wrapped around your throat.

A gasped whimper escapes your mouth as you feel his fingers pressing into your skin, the slight pressure and the weight of his hand against your throat causes your head to spin, his grip not strong enough to hurt or leave marks but send dizzying pleasure right to the depths of your belly. Your breath hitches as your airways constrict, eyes rolling into the back of your head, hand reaching up to hold onto his wrist, making sure his hand stays right where it is, already addicted to the feeling.

The lack of air combined with his relentless thrusts sends you into a frenzy, you feel like you're floating, your limbs tingling, and the world around you blurs, your only focus on Heeseung's gaze that meets yours in the mirror in front of you. He's attentive, watching you closely and making sure you can still breathe — which you can, but the thrill of it all leaves you light-headed and gasping for air — while chasing his own high, pressing his lips into your shoulder to muffle the desperate groans threatening to escape him. 

His grip on your throat tightens, just barely, but enough to cut off your air supply for just a short moment, the rush sending a brand new wave of arousal pooling in the depths of your belly. It feels like he's everywhere — his cock thrusting into you at a merciless pace, his hand wrapped securely around your throat while his arm winds around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, not allowing you to move in the slightest. The intensity of it all is overwhelming your senses, the lack of oxygen making everything sharper, more intense, and you're reveling in the sensation of him pounding into you and sending every nerve in your body buzzing with electric pleasure.

"God, so greedy, couldn't even wait until we were back at the hotel, could you? Just had to have my cock buried deep inside you, can't get enough of it, right, princess?” he grunts lowly as he loosens the grip on your throat, lips pressing into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as your walls clamp down on him while you suck in a desperate gasp of air. 

You're too far gone to respond, your mind clouded with lust, hazy and floating like a cloud on a balmy spring day. All you can do is moan out his name, over and over again, a prayer falling from your lips as he continues thrusting into you, your body pushing against his tight hold of your waist, instinctively moving to meet every snap of his hips. His pace is relentless, Heeseung's thoughts replaced by his need to cum, desperately chasing his own high as he drives you closer and closer to the edge of blissful oblivion. The coil inside you winds impossibly tight, your legs shaking, and if it weren't for your boyfriend holding you upright, you know you'd be a mess of tangled limbs on the cold tiled floor beneath your feet already.

"Cum inside me—fuck, Heeseung, please," you plead breathily, your voice cracking as desperation takes over it, insatiable hunger and need setting your insides on fire.  

"Shit, you want me to cum inside you, yeah?"

His hand rubs over the mound of your ass, soothing your raw skin, sensitive from the slap he delivered to it just mere moments ago. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips with such force you're sure to find bruises the following day. 

“God, yes, Heeseung!” you cry out, your voice breaking as you feel the knot inside you tighten rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until it's a white-hot ball of pleasure, ready to explode and set your body alight.

He leans down slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers into your ear, “Be a good girl and cum for me, then you’ll get what you’re asking for. Come on, let go, cum for me, pretty girl."

And just like that you find yourself tipping over the edge, his words breaking the dam inside you and allowing your high to crash over you like a tidal wave, destroying everything in its wake. Pleasure courses through every inch of your body. Every vein, every nerve is set alight and dragged along the powerful and overwhelming waves of your release. Your slick walls clamp down around him like a vice, spasming with every drag of his cock, every brush of his mushroom tip against that one spot that makes stars explode in front of your eyes.

His grip on you loosens enough to allow your upper half to fall forward, catching yourself as you lean on your forearms, left panting and completely undone as you gasp for air, lungs burning and desperate for the sweet taste of oxygen.

Heeseung lets out a strangled moan at the feeling of your dripping cunt tightening around him with even more force, his control slipping as his thrusts become urgent and uncontrollable. He murmurs something underneath his breath, but the rush of your heartbeat echoing in your ears is too loud, drowning out his words, which you assume are mumbled curses of your name.

You lose yourself in the sensation, barely able to form any coherent thoughts as your climax drags on. Each wave drags you deeper and deeper into the current of pleasure, leaving you gasping for air, body twitching and trembling as Heeseung prioritizes his own pleasure, chasing his high with renewed fervor.

Heeseung has never been a selfish lover, always putting your pleasure first, making sure you got to cum at least once before even letting himself think about the possibility of his own release. And maybe that’s part of the thrill for him, repeatedly — intentionally — edging himself until he finally gets what he wants from you, driving himself to the edge of his release over and over again until he is so sensitive he feels like he’s about to explode from just the slightest stimulation.

“Oh fuck, baby—“ he pants with a strained voice, his chest rising and falling rapidly, breaths ragged as he finally allows himself to let go.

With a low guttural groan, Heeseung spills himself inside of you, thick spurts of his warm cum shooting deep into your pulsing cunt, painting your insides white and oozing out of your pussy past his cock. The heat of it sends tiny aftershocks through you; your body shakes as you try to catch your breath, looking into the mirror to see him working himself through the last dredges of his orgasm, jaw slack and body trembling. His face is glistening with sweat, beads of it rolling down his throat and disappearing beneath the neckline of his black shirt.

The sight of him is enough to make you ache with need all over again — his face twisted in pleasure, his eyes dark and unfocused as he watches his cum leak out of your wrecked pussy around his length. You cannot help but think of the folder on his phone, password protected to keep it from the wrong eyes and filled to the brim with pictures you hope never see the light of day: his cum dripping out of your ruined cunt; his cock shoved into your mouth, the lower half of your face messy with a mix of spit, cum, tears, and lipstick; love bites scattered across the skin of your neck and the insides of your thighs like the constellations of the night sky. If you had more time, you’re sure he would add to that growing collection of his, pulling out his phone and snapping multiple pictures until he was satisfied, moving your body into various positions to get the best shot.

Instead of allowing your small daydream to become reality, Heeseung pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness leaving you whimpering and clenching around nothing, the squelching wet sound of him slipping his cock out of you echoing around the room.

He takes another moment to admire the mess he's made of you, leaning back slightly as he watches his cum drip from your drenched hole. He reaches out, letting his fingers run between your folds to collect his cum just to shove it back into you. The sight of your pussy swallowing his digits, your puffy lips embracing them with ease makes his cock twitch again, overstimulated and sensitive but still aching for more.

“Hee—fuck, please,” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, mind fuzzy and eyes heavy as you watch him through the mirror in front of you. 

You try to drink it all in, wanting this moment embedded in your memory until the end of your days. His dark hair falling into his eyes, focused on the white globs of his cum slipping out of your cunt from around his fingers and running down your thigh. His skin is flushed, sweat beaded on it like little gems glued to reddened satin. It trails down his neck to his chest, revealed by the undone top button of his shirt. 

Heeseung interrupts your little ogling session when he pulls his fingers out slowly, savoring the way you shudder at the loss. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror before he gently turns you around to face him: lips puffy and swollen, eyes watery and completely wrecked despite your combined effort to prevent just this from happening when you were still able to think clearly before your minds were clouded with lust. 

“You did so well, baby,” Heeseung murmurs, his voice thick with a twisted mix of pride and possessiveness as he angles your head so his lips capture yours in a kiss that sends another wave of burning heat through you, igniting the glowing embers lingering deep within you.

His hands slide to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he effortlessly lifts you up, your bare thighs resting on the vanity underneath you, the cold marble biting into the raw and tender skin of your ass.

“Made such a mess, can you feel it dripping out of you?” — you nod at his question despite knowing he didn’t ask for you to answer — “Want me to clean you up?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out your reply, eyes glossing over at the intention.

A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, the unspoken meaning of his words written as clear as day on his face as he slowly lowers himself to the tiled floor beneath his feet, spreading your legs in the process to make room for him to fit between them. He looks up at you from between your spread thighs, leaning forward slightly to press his lips against the insides of them, alternating between nibbling and sucking, sure to leave marks for you to find the next day. A whispered sigh of his name slips past your lips as you throw your head back slightly, his lips ghosting closer and closer to where you need him, to where his cum was still dripping out of you.

His warm breath fans over your wet center, lips just a hair's width away from your pulsing cunt when a gentle knock interrupts you. Heeseung jumps up at the sound, back on his feet in an instant. Your eyes are wide in panic as you meet his gaze before you both turn to the door.

“Shit,” Heeseung mouths as he rushes to grab some paper towels to wipe your mixed juices from between your thighs, hoping that whoever just knocked on the door isn’t aware of the fact that there are currently two people in this bathroom. Two people who certainly could not afford to be caught in a position like you are currently finding yourselves in.

“Heeseung? It’s me, Jay.”

The sigh of relief leaving both of you could almost be described as comical if not for the tension still lingering between you, all the worries and anxieties of a secret relationship almost coming true. Haphazardly, Heeseung pulls his pants up, the undone belt still hanging from his hips as he helps you down from the vanity, hands tugging at the hem of your dress to give you at least a slight bit of decency. He takes one look in the mirror, letting out a small groan before shuffling over to open the door.

The moment the door opens, Jay turns towards both of you, hands buried in the pockets of his pants as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other. The redness of his ears confirms your suspicions that he most likely heard more than you would’ve liked, immediately sending your blood rushing to your head, face burning with embarrassment at your friend catching you in such a precarious position. He clears his throat once, trying — and failing — to subtly take in Heeseung’s appearance before shooting a small, albeit flustered, smile at the two of you.

“We gotta leave, like,” he takes a look at his phone to check the time, “right now, actually. I already bought you both some time, told them you weren’t feeling well, and Heeseung wanted to make sure you’re alright. You should…clean yourselves up a bit. Meet us at the entrance in 5?”

You both nod as you watch Jay turn to leave after looking your boyfriend and you up and down once again, shaking his head as he deeply sighs in disappointment — a sound almost eerily similar to one you had heard your parents make several times when you were younger — and you swear as he walks away you can hear him mumble to himself about how you were like two hormonal teenagers, not able to keep it in your pants for even one night.

“Well, guess we gotta get you cleaned up, huh, sweetheart?” 

“Oh no, we don’t!” you jab your finger into his chest as he chuckles at you, “I get cleaned up, and you can go meet up with everyone. It’ll be less suspicious if we don’t show up at the same time.”

Heeseung holds up his hand in fake surrender, a smile still playing with his glossy lips as his eyes roam over your body with one last hungry gaze. Despite the burning ache inside him, the quick kiss he presses against your lips is nothing but sweet and gentle, tenderness quickly replaces the darkness formerly taking over his eyes, “I’ll text you later. Maybe we can manage to sneak you into my hotel room later.”

“Sounds like a plan,” your hands wrap around his arms, giving his biceps one last affectionate squeeze before ushering him out of the bathroom and away to join his group members, giving you a few more precious minutes to clean up, make yourself look somewhat presentable — or at least presentable enough to not have any fans or press question just what exactly happened over the past hour — and find out where you had kicked your underwear in the heat of the moment.

You take a moment to watch your boyfriend walk away, the slight bounce in his step is a dead giveaway for the people who knew him that he just got laid, but lucky for both of you, no one of importance should be able to figure him out and turn this whole thing into an issue for the two of you. Just as you’re about to turn around and assess his damage in the big vanity mirror, Heeseung turns around one more time, eyes twinkling with mischief as he takes you in, watching the way your eyebrows rise on your forehead in a silent question at his sudden halt.

“Oh, and baby?” you nod your head in response, “Make sure to wipe the lipstick from your chin. We wouldn’t want anyone to find out what a greedy slut you are for me, would we now?”

© sungbeams — all rights reserved. i do not give permission to copy, repost, modify or translate my works.

[shotmrmiller]

the tale of how simon got himself a gf without stepping a foot outside of base.

anyone can tell you that alcohol reduces the ability to use logic. to see reason. it lowers inhibitions and blurs the boundary lines you've drawn in the sand.

but indulging in drink tonight is justified. you're in need of reprieve after this shit week: broke up with your boyfriend, deadlines at work appearing out of thin air, a flat tire on your morning commute. you even stepped on the end of your cat's tail.

miserable. (she's okay, just giving you the cold shoulder. you'll buy her some tasty snacks tomorrow.)

but for tonight, you're wallowing in your own misery. some uninteresting show is playing on the television, you're cradled by the cushions of your couch, a fluffy sherpa throw over your socked feet.

if only there was a way to melt this week's accumulated stress away even further.

cue the drunk texting your ex cliché.

anyone can tell you that it's detrimental to moving on. it's akin to reopening a wound that's already begun to heal. a step back when you should only be moving forward. your friends would drag you by your hair for being so dumb.

but there's an incessant throb in between your legs that's only getting stronger with every glass of wine you toss back. you're wound tight, violin strings stretched to the brink. a couple of bow strokes away from snapping.

you'll deal with the consequences tomorrow, along with your hangover.

typing in his (deleted in a fit of heartbroken rage) number with fumbling fingers and send a picture of you with the hem of your sleeping shirt between your teeth, the swell of your bare breasts on full display with a cheeky little missing you <3

he responds in minutes even though it's 2:30am.

send a vid and show me how much you miss me.

it makes your pussy clench around nothing, already slick, drooling, begging to be filled. you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you bring up the camera.

when simon first gets the text, he's on edge, gripping his phone hard enough to crack. no one should have this number except for price, johnny and kyle. he's made sure of it-- had laswell pull strings to give him a secure line. no scam likely's, no cold calls, nothing.

but then some silly little bird dials his number by mistake and the sweet cherry on top is that you've sent a nude. breasts on full display-- soft looking, hard peaked. it makes his mouth water, his gums itch. he'd love to sink his teeth into them, into you, hard enough to bruise. mark. claim.

but that's for later, once he finds you.

he texts back and what you send him in response fattens his cock. a small hand tucked beneath the waistband of your flimsy knickers, gusset dampened with warm arousal. you lick your bottom lip, leaving it glossy with spit. your chest heaves with the sharp gasps of breath you're drawing.

but there's a problem. he can barely see what you're doing. he doesn't have x-ray vision, your knickers are in the way. while he can understand the allure, he himself doesn't have the patience for it. either you let him see your bare cunt or don't waste his time.

he wasn't expecting you to agree this fast. maybe a bit of push back, a little snapping of teeth until you relent but no. you're an obedient thing. submissive. just how he likes 'em. (if he wants to break someone in, that's what johnny's for.)

soft, inviting thighs spread wide, a couple of fingers curling inside your glistening cunt. (duly noticing how your 2 fingers are the size of 1 of his.) your moans spill from your lips unreservedly when you roll your pearl in tight, precise little circles. he spits on his hand, heavy length resting in his calloused palm and tugs himself at the pace you've set: jerky, quick, messy.

you come with a whimper, eyes shut and pliant body coiled tight. a frothy, sticky cream coats your fingers, dripping down to your arse, pooling on your couch.

you miss me too? sent 3:27 am

(he decides to keep you. simon can't remember the last time he's had a climax that spine stiffening in a while.)

[pacofprunes]

cotton candy grapes

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — very short drabble, reader has pink hair, noncon kissing, biting that draws blood, choking, subtle threatening, drug use

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

somehow, he hadn’t noticed you in the first game. you’d think the only other person there with dyed hair, that was pink, would immediately get his attention. but he didn’t notice until after the games when it was time to vote, you smacking that red X. he only saw your hair though, he wanted to see your face. he knew you had to be stunning.

the voting ends and he sees you on the other side sitting on your bed with your face in your hands. he gets up to go over to you.

“where are you going?”

nam-gyu his lap dog. he sits up out of his bed to see what his owners doing.

“none of your business.”

he walks away towards you, nam-gyu watching the whole time. on the way there he pops a pill in his mouth.

“hello señorita.”

you look up and he’s stunned. god you were beautiful. he whistles at you.

“what’dya say you join me and my team over there beautiful?”

he points to the other side where you see a group of people.

“uh, no thank you.”

“come on babe don’t be so difficult. you’re over here all alone, you need alliances. and i, thanos, the greatest rapper there has ever been, am a great ally.”

you pause and think. it would be nice to have allies in a shit hole like this. but then you think back to the first game. right in front of you, a whole row of people fall forward and get shot. it wasn’t from somebody tripping. no. it’s because this guy who says his name is thanos pushed them. you’re pulled out of your thoughts and look him in the eyes.

“you killed all those people.“

he looks at you with a shocked sarcastic smile.

“did i?”

“yes. yes you did. the first game, you pushed them all. no i don’t wanna fucking be on your team are you crazy?”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes it back slightly before you slap his hand away.

“come on señorita, money is money! you didn’t know those people and neither did i!”

he laughs, sick. he leans forward closer to your face and then moves over to your ear.

“plus, you don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you don’t join my team and switch that X.”

he leans back and points to the red X on your chest. flicking it. you stand up and ignore him before walking away, going to the bathroom to avoid him. he just stares your way.

“girls who play hard to get are so fucking hot.”

he runs a hand through his hair before going back to his degenerate friend nam-gyu. telling him all about you. granted he twisted a lot of shit. claiming you wanted him so bad, but was just so intimidated by how famous he is that you didn’t want part of that spotlight, and that’s why you said no. definitely was not what you said at all though.

you come back in the room, your pink hair bouncing behind you. god it looked so soft. he should’ve ran his hand through your hair while he had the chance. lights out comes about and he just sits up on his bed, taking another pill. thinking to himself what his next action should be. what if you died tomorrow and he didn’t even get the chance to kiss you? he gets up and walks back over to your side. you were trying to go to sleep, but weren’t asleep yet. he simply just grabs your elbow and pulls you behind the bed, pressing you against the wall.

“what the hell is wrong with you?”

he looks you dead in the eye with a crazed look. and rubs his hands through your hair. so fucking soft.

“babe, you’re just so fucking beautiful, what if you die tomorrow? and i don’t get the chance to smoke with you, kiss you, fuck you…”

you give him a disgusted look before he grabs your face in both hands giving you a tight kiss. forcing his tongue in your mouth. you push at his chest with your hands before stomping on his foot and he jumps back.

“you fucking bitch.”

he goes back up to you before you get the chance to get away from him and he grips your hair between all his fingers. you wanted to scream but didn’t wanna make things worse. plus, nobody would help you in a place like this. constant killing and fighting. nobody gave a fuck about you. he takes a deep breath before he breaths it all out into your neck. he wraps his hands around your neck as a warning, rubbing his fingers in circles around it.

“you’re so beautiful, one of the prettiest women i’ve ever seen. just give a handsome guy like me a chance.”

he kisses you again, hands still around your neck, doing light little pulse squeezes every few seconds as a warning. he bites your lip this time drawing a little bit of blood, causing you to go to scream. but as soon as you do, he’s squeezing your throat as tight as he can, you can’t get any air, not even a single noise out. he continues to kiss you before pulling away and looking you in the eyes as you struggle to breathe. finally he lets go and pushes your hair behind your ear.

“i expect you change your mind tomorrow, kay babe? wouldn’t wanna hurt you even more, i really do like you.”

he takes a step back and you guys just hold eye contact and he swings his cross necklace, playing with it in his fingers before opening it.

“if you ever want some, just come to me. the pink one suits you perfectly.”

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Baby’s first christmas

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, you two have a kid, tooth rotting fluff, JJK men being dads, tis the season, kind of suggestive on Satoru’s and Sukuna’s. Not proofread bc it’s christmas.

An: Happy holidays! No Choso because I never really include him in my JJK men as dads series. Sorry Choso enjoyers!! Also, the kids names have no affiliation with the names of anyone in JJK. They were names I thought up a while ago. This is a little short because I wrote it on Christmas Eve lol.

Incl: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

SATORU

This would be Satoru’s first Christmas at home with a family. His clan didn’t celebrate Christmas, and even if they did, Satoru knew santa wasn’t real from a very young age.

He stared at you and your infant son as you rocked him back and forth. Satoru swore he could feel his heart swell three sizes larger. He knew that realistically his son, Aoi, wouldn’t remember this Christmas, but he wanted to create traditions.

He wanted to have something that he could look forward to every year.

“Where are you going?” You asked your husband with a warm laugh as he grabbed his keys and wallet. It was the night before Christmas. Everything would be closed by now, and they wouldn’t open until the day after Christmas.

“Don’t worry about it, Sweets. I’ll be home soon.” He assured you with his signature grin. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to both yours and Aoi’s head. His small baby stirred, making the cutest grunts and sleep noises. “Make sure to leave some cookies out for Santa. I think he should be stopping by soon.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at your husband’s antics. It was never a dull moment between you two.

“I think my sweet-toothed husband will eat them before Santa gets to them.” You remarked at Satoru headed towards the door. He flashed you a cheeky smile.

“No promises. It’s the thought that counts anyways.” He said before heading out into the snowy night. You shook your head at him, knowing he was likely up to no good.

You continued rocking Aoi in the rocking chair for a little while. Aoi could be a very fussy baby when mama or dada wasn’t holding him, so you weren’t taking any chances of putting him down just yet.

Instead, you carefully wrapped him up in a sling baby carrier, and you popped some cookies in the oven. Satoru helped you make the dough yesterday, and you two had already cut them out into various Christmas shapes.

Your mind was elsewhere as you cleaned up the kitchen and thought about what all needed to be done tomorrow. Satoru’s clan didn’t celebrate Christmas, but you had planned a surprise Christmas party and invited all of his friends to come celebrate with you three.

After a while, the oven beeped signaling that the cookies were at the perfect level of doneness. You put on your oven mitts on before carefully removing the pan. As you sat it down on the stove, the sound of tumbling down the chimney caught your attention.

Was there an animal trapped in your chimney? You grimaced at the thought of trying to save a rabid animal from the confines of your chimney.

You stepped over to the chimney to investigate from afar. With Aoi in your arms, you didn’t want to put your son in harm’s way.

Luckily for you, your goofy husband stared back up at you. His bright blue eyes were unmistakable, even while he had on a fake Santa costume with a fake beard. His face was smeared with black marks from the coal in your fireplace.

“Ho, ho, ho..” He laughed in a thick bellowing tone as he crawled out of the fireplace.

“Satoru, what are you doing? You’re going to scar Aoi.” You laughed as you walked over to your husband, wiping some smears off his cheek.

“I don’t know this Satoru you speak of. He must be on my naughty list. Ho, ho, ho.” Fake Santa continued, shooting you a small wink. He really wasn’t going to give up this act easily, was he?

He didn’t. Satoru played as Santa, placing a few gifts under the tree and munching on some homemade cookies and milk in the act. He had to perfect his Santa persona for when Aoi would be able to form memories.

Your real husband conveniently didn’t return until after “Santa” had left, and he even had the audacity to pout about not receiving any gifts from Santa. You had to politely inform him that he was on the naughty list this year, which promptly had Satoru smirking at you.

“Bummer. Santa even forgot to leave me a lump of coal. If only there was another way for me to be punished for being on the naughty list…”

SUGURU

You were dreading Christmas. A new mom with twin baby girls and several houses to go to just didn’t sound like any fun. Of course, your husband, Suguru, would offer to help in any way he could, but you both knew you were going to be exhausted and overstimulated by the end of the day.

“We don’t have to go see everyone.” Suguru murmured into your ear. It was the night before Christmas, and you had just been anxiously carrying on about how badly you didn’t want to get out tomorrow.

His large palm rubbed up and down your arm in a soothing manner as he cradled you in his strong arms. Your head was pressed against his chest, listening to the steady drum of his heart.

“That would be rude.” You murmured.

“As if I’ve ever cared about being rude.” Suguru retorted with a calm smile. He then reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp, cascading your bedroom in darkness.

You two snuggled in each other’s arms, sharing lazy kisses and sweet nothings. It felt like you only managed to blink your eyes before one of your girls were crying over the baby monitor.

Patting the bed next to you, you find nothing but slightly warmed sheets. Geto must’ve already gotten up with the girls. One look at the baby cam has your heart melting.

Your husband’s sleepy eyes are half closed as he has a baby in each arm. He was quietly trying to shush them, speaking softly, “Please, don’t wake up mama. Let her sleep in today, girls. She deserves to rest easy on Christmas.”

You pushed the covers up off of you, unable to resist seeing this moment for yourself. You lean against the nursery doorway as you watch him continue shushing and rocking the twins.

“Merry Christmas, Suguru.” You finally spoke, giving away your presence. Your husband subtly flinched before turning around to meet your gaze.

“Merry Christmas, darling.” He responded before walking over and pressing a kiss to your lips. “I have a surprise for you.” He murmured into your presence.

A crease formed between your eyebrows as you wondered just what he was up to. He carefully nodded towards the window, signaling for you to take a look outside.

The bright light reflecting off the white powdery substance had you shielding your eyes. It must’ve snowed at least 7 inches throughout the night.

“We’re snowed in.” Geto quietly chuckled, pleased with the turn of luck. You two didn’t have to haul the twins to several houses, and you two could just rest easy at home.

NANAMI

Your husband had always been an early riser. He was consistently up earlier than you, even on christmas morning. You were normally really into Christmas, but you never managed to wake up before him.

Even this morning, you drowsily rolled over in your shared bed, trying to find your husband’s presence, but he was no where to be found.

You slowly sit up, rubbing your eyes free from sleep. You were honest surprised that Hana didn’t wake you two up during the night and Yuji hadn’t woke you up either.

Getting out of bed, you see Nanami had already placed your robe and slippers next to the bed for your convenience. You smile before slipping those on and heading downstairs.

“Nanamin, does this bacon need to be flipped?�� You hear Yuji’s voice ask. The soft sounds of Bluey playing on the living room TV also fill your ears, and Hana’s soft babbling can be heard as well.

“Yes, go ahead and flip it.” Your husband instructs Yuji. You two had adopted Yuji after the events at Jujutsu Tech. He needed a family, and you two had a loving home that was painfully empty. Now, it was never a dull moment between Yuji and his little sister, Hana.

You quietly creep into the kitchen, and you smile at the sight. Your husband was clad in a white apron that said, “Kiss the chef”. You had gotten it for him long ago, and he still wears it to this day. He was working making some pancakes while Yuji was tending to the bacon.

Hana was in her bouncer chair in the living room. Nanami rarely ever parked her in front of the TV, but walking around with her in a sling wasn’t an option this morning, not when Yuji was frying bacon and she could be popped with it.

“Merry Christmas, you two.” You said, finally announcing your presence. Yuji looked up at you before his lips turned into a pout, and Nanami let out a small chuckle.

“Good morning, darling. You couldn’t sleep for just a few more minutes? Yuji wanted to give you breakfast in bed as a christmas present.” Your husband walked over to you, and he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“Aw, sorry, Yuu. I was excited to see you and Hana open up gifts.” You said with an empathetic smile, and Yuji’s pout vanishes.

“That’s alright! I can give you breakfast on the couch. It’s almost as good as breakfast in bed.” His bright smile quickly returns to him.

“It’s perfect, Yuu.” You say before ruffling his soft pink hair. He was such a good kid. He deserved the world and more.

A little while later, your family was sat upon the couch. Nanami was passing out Christmas gifts. Hana was sat in your lap as you helped her unwrap her gifts. She, of course, wouldn’t remember this, but this would be your favorite memory of all time.

“Let’s give Hana and Yuji another little sibling next Christmas.” You mutter to Nanami as you two watch Yuji and Hana play together on the floor.

“Ew! I heard that!” Yuji pouted, causing for both you and Nanami to laugh.

TOJI

Sweet baby Megumi was just three days old on his first Christmas. You and Toji had been hoping that the doctors were going to finally discharge you and Megumi, so you two could go home on Christmas.

It’s not that you two had any plans. You both came from broken families, but even if you did have family, you two had agreed on no visitors for the first week. You didn’t want to risk Megumi or you getting sick, especially since all the nasty sickness goes around during December.

You two also just wanted to get use to life with a baby. This was your first, and you were young. There was going to be a small adjustment period, and you wanted to worry about that without also worrying about visitors.

Toji was laid up in the hospital bed with you. He didn’t care about the damn policy. His wife just had a baby. He was going to hold her in his arms as much as he could.

Megumi was in your arms, sleeping away peacefully. “He’s got your eyelashes. I’m jealous.” You murmur to Toji as both of you admire your beautiful baby.

“He’s got your mouth.” Toji offered as consolation, and you let out a small giggle.

“That’s all he got from me. I carried him for nine months, and he had the audacity to look like he fell from your ass.” You comment back, making Toji grin down at you.

“Sorry, ma. Those Zenin genes are unfortunately strong.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If I could have it my way, he would look just like you.”

“No,” You whispered with a heartfelt smile. Tears blurred some of your vision as your hormones were still so out of balance from birthing a child. “He’s perfect. I love him so much already.”

“Don’t cry, ma.” Toji muttered as he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away your tears. This would only be the 20th time you cried over how much you love your son.

A knock at the door startles you both, and your doctor walks in with a pleasant smile. “Merry Christmas, you two.”

“Merry Christmas.” You respond back in a hesitant tone. The thought of the doctor informing both of you that you had to stay another day worried you to no end. Both you and Toji were going stir crazy inside that hospital room.

“I’m sure both of you are ready to take your little bundle of joy home.” The doctor says as he flips through your chart briefly. “So, I’m going to let you go home today.”

Sighs of relief fill the room. It was probably the best Christmas gift you had ever gotten.

Scratch that, seeing Toji do the “hot dad walk” was definitely the best Christmas gift you had ever gotten. He was wearing a black hoodie, carrying a carseat with your son all bundled in, and he was walking out to the car as a nurse pushed you in a wheelchair (you tried denying the wheelchair, but it’s “hospital policy”).

“We’re bad parents.” You cried on the way home. Toji was flabbergasted by how quickly your mood could change.

“We’re not bad parents. Why would you say that, ma?” He asked as he reached over and rubbed your thigh while driving the car. Megumi was peacefully asleep in the back seat.

“We didn’t get our son anything for Christmas.” You mumble through the tears. Megumi was actually due on December 26th, but he decided to come a little early. You two decided that a newborn didn’t need gifts, and you were heavily pregnant, so the idea of wrapping any gifts didn’t spark you any joy.

“Doll, we literally gave him life. Besides, I’ve only known the brat for a couple days. How should I know what to get him?” Toji jokes, trying to make you feel better about the lack of gifts. You let out a small laugh in response.

“I promise, ma. We’ll give him a better Christmas than you and I ever got next year.”

SUKUNA

“My son will worship no false deity. I’m the only god getting worshipper around here.” Sukuna declared as he covered up Ryu’s ears with his hands.

“Santa Claus is not a false deity, Kuna. He’s a fairytale.” You respond back to your husband as you roll your eyes. It’s not even like your sweet baby could even understand what you two were saying about Santa anyways.

It was his first Christmas, and you were trying to introduce both Sukuna and Ryu to the human traditions for the holiday season. It seemed like neither of them were having it.

“Do curses do anything for the winter solstice?” You ask Sukuna, looking up at him from your seat on the floor as you help Ryu unwrap another gift from Santa you and Sukuna.

“We eat a virgin.” The king of curses reply without skipping a beat, causing you to look up at him with disgust and horror. “Oh, don’t worry, flower. You’re safe. I made sure of that long ago.”

You roll your eyes and give him a pity laugh. Sukuna thinks he’s so funny sometimes. “Yeah, I didn’t think anyone would mistake me for a virgin when I have your baby on my hip constantly.”

“You should have another on your other hip.” Sukuna comments with a wolfish grin. Ever since you pushed Ryu, Sukuna had been gunning to get you pregnant again.

“I think one half-curse, half-human baby is enough, Kuna.” You say with a small laugh while jingling a toy in front of Ryu’s face. He giggles happily as he reaches out to grab it from you.

“You’re the only human that gets away with defying me. You know that? I would’ve already dismantled anyone else.” He comments, and you roll your eyes once again. “I should inform Krampus of your disobedience.”

“Wait- curses believe in Krampus?” You ask as you look back up at him, finally intrigued by what he was saying.

“He’s real. There is no believing in him. He goes around and punishes the naughty children, even curse spawn have to worry about Krampus.” Sukuna informed as he propped his head up with his hand and gave a lazy smile. One of his favorite pastimes was teaching you about his culture. He loved how you always listened and absorbed the information while trying to relate it to human culture.

“Isn’t being naughty what curse spawn are meant to be?” You question as you cock an eyebrow. Sukuna gives a low chuckle in response.

“Yes, but they’re still expected to obey their elders as Ryu is expected to obey us.” His large palm gently pats Ryu head, and your son looks up at him with the most innocent of smiles.

Most babies are inherently terrified of Sukuna as if they could sense the danger from him, but Ryu loved his dad and never showed any signs of fear. The sight of you and Ryu playing with toys on Christmas morning was enough for Sukuna’s heart to grow three sizes bigger.

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next?

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

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