#it’s just made me feel a lot of feelings

[rebloggingrexan]

#48! #woah. usually ive only seen like 5 movies in movie lists like this

I know that realistically you can only fit so many movies into a list of approximately 100, but I cannot take that "How many of tumblr's favorite movies have you seen?" list that's been going around seriously because there are some truly egregious omissions.

Some of it is very clearly recency bias, which makes me wonder if the op truly wasn't on here in 2013 or so, but you're telling me you made a list of "tumblr's favorite movies" that doesn't include Pacific Rim or Mad Max: Fury Road? Because, like, I was there, Gandalf.

[thecoochiefairy]

binky. toji.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.5K words. blackfempregnant!character, drabble, toji fushiguro, husband!toji, grumpy!toji, sweet!toji, dominant!toji, nasty sex, public sex, sweet sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, oral [f], praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condomless sex, fingering, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i just missed my man. this is very juno by sabrina carpenter coded. nothing serious, just wanted to put something out before i get caught in the chaos of moving. i love y’all. bye.

YOUR PALMS DID A FINAL SWAP OF COCOA BUTTER AGAINST YOUR STRETCH MARKS AS YOU COULD HEAR HIS DRIVERS SIDE DOOR SLAM SHUT, a breath exhaling out of your lips as you planned to open your door before he could do so.

Your french tips rest upon your swollen belly as your eyes flick up to the sun peeking beneath the clouds, cool air distracting the dewy warmth of spring. You loved and hated this time of the year. 

You already knew he was about to chastise you for not waiting until he got to your side. But you were impatient. He could be—slow.  

“I got it, Fushiguro.” 

Your golden sandals step onto the concrete, lowering yourself from the Ford F-150 that murmured to silence as he cut the engine off. You could see his scowl the moment your face met his.

“Cut out that stubborn shit, Amai. You’ gotta be careful.” 

His voice is a grunt. Amai. He didn’t often use that nickname, only when he needed to scold you.

You roll your eyes, “How are you gonna’ hold me and carry all the stuff? I’m not bedridden, Fushiguro.”

“That’s how you feel? You gonna’ keep calling me by my last name?”

“You gonna’ call me Amai like I’m a child?” You raise an eyebrow, going to reach in his pocket for the cigarettes you know are in there, wanting to put them back in the truck. 

“We just got out of the car, woman,” he narrows his eyes, “Why are you already being difficult?” 

Your eyes flick over him. Midnight black hair, even darker eyebrows, scar twitching against his lip as he continues to scowl. His frame is being hugged by a long sleeve white tee, leather jacket along his upper half, boots thumping the ground as he was heavy footed. 

You pout a bit, “Can you not be grumpy? I just wanted to make it easier for you. We have a bit of a walk,” you reach up for his hair, “You love me?”

“That’s not a question that needs to be asked. You know the answer.” 

To your comment on his grumpiness, his eyes narrowed even more. His eyebrows creased. It was almost cute. 

He never had something that was his, and you were that. His soul was connected to yours, something that a woman made with a man like him was unheard of.

“You’re still frowning,” your slender eyes became a bit round, doe-like as they stared up at him, “Wanna feel my belly? You always like that.” 

You place his large palm against your stomach, “Baby girl doesn’t like your energy.”

That made the scowl on his face change. You could see a flicker of softness in his dark eyes.

He sighs, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You smile a bit, “It’s okay, she forgives you. And so do I. Now, c’mon,” you yank on the shoulder of his jacket, “You’re gonna be hot in this. It’s already warm outside.”

“What happened to you forgiving me, huh?” he brings his face closer, brushing his nose against your cheek, “Where's your mouth at?”

“You don’t get a kiss until you take your jacket off.” 

With one more glance over you, he began tugging off his jacket with no more complaints.

You watch as he tosses the item of clothing back into the truck, glancing over the way his biceps flex with each movement. It starts a ripple along his shoulders, igniting the muscles all the way through his back. You dig your teeth into the plump of your lips at the sight.

He can always feel your eyes.

 “You checkin’ me out now?” 

He steps towards you, his large palms cupping your face. Leaning down, he presses his lips against yours, giving you a couple of pecks in addition to his apology.

You pucker your lips out, head shaking as you disagree, “No. Don’t need your ego any bigger than it is,” you stand on your toes, “You still didn’t say you loved me.”

“I tell you that shit all the time. You want me to say it again?” 

His thumb trails over your cheek, “You think I’m lying?” 

The way his other hand cups around your jaw, his long fingers now pressing against the back of your neck makes it hard for you to focus. When he’s close to you like this, you get a bit dazed.

You sigh a bit, twisting your sandal into the ground. It’s not that you weren’t intimate within your pregnancy, but with you being so close to your due date, sex was the last thing on your mind. But the masculine energy your husband wafted was almost intoxicating at times. You wanted to breathe him in. 

You say softly, “C’mon, Toji. I wanna find a nice spot to sit in.”

Your husband tuts in annoyance. However, when you call him by his name, it ignites a spark within his dark gaze. His hand slowly unwraps itself from cupping your face with a gentle motion. 

“Are you alright to walk?”

Pressing a hand against his chest, your fingers trail over his pecs. Hard. His scent mixed with the aroma of his clothes made you drowsy at times— The way his warm fingers traveled to the small of your back, it always felt like home. 

“You gonna’ carry me if I’m not?”

“Shit, you know I will.”

You giggle a bit as he pulls away from you, going over to the trunk to tug down the door of it, throwing the bag of essentials over his shoulder to bring on the hill. You reach for your journal as you begin to lead the way into the forest—You never noticed the natural waddle your body had, swaying a bit with each step as you searched for the perfect spot. 

“It’s so pretty here, baby,” you smile from behind, “We should’ve had our baby shower here!”

“You really wanna get into that argument again?”

Toji’s eyes glanced over the way your mini dress swayed, the soft pink pretty against your skin, off the shoulder material hugging the swell of your heavy breasts. The way your ass bounced with it—He wasn’t usually a fan of shorter dresses on you, but he had to admit you looked good. Your body was full and feminine. He craved you.

You slow down in your steps, turning towards him with a scrunched nose. You raise your hand for his own as you reply, “Why you’ always think I’m trying to argue? You’re making my feet hurt.”

“I told you not to wear those damn sandals. You know they make your feet ache.” 

His hand grasps onto yours like second nature, your fingertips intertwining—Intentional.

“But they go nicely with my dress,” you frown, “Don’t I look pretty?”

You’re still waddling, despite putting your weight along his—You hate how tired you feel yourself becoming, huffing a bit with each step.

“You are pretty. You’re always pretty,” He mutters, leaning into you. 

His grey eyes glance over the way your face had a flush to it. You were panting a bit, chest heaving with each breath. His hand reaches up, his palm brushing your dark curls behind your ear.

“You good, baby? Wanna go back down the trail?”

You shake your head from side to side, huffing, “Mm—Mm—we’re almost there, I wanna sit at the top of the hill.” 

“Kirei josei.”

You're familiar with the name, as he’d taught you a couple of phrases—Pretty girl. 

“I don’t need you going into labor before you make it up the hill—you’re tired. Just say you want me to carry you.”

Another thing with your pregnancy—how all over the place your emotions could be. You had the talent to cry on cue.

Like now.

Toji’s constant questioning has your throat a little heavy, your watering eyes glancing to the side of you as you sharply remind, “I’m not helpless,” using your other hand to hold your belly, your legs aching as you begin following the incline towards the top. 

When you begin to sniffle, he knows. He can't be as much of an ass as he normally is—that's the effect you have on him—He has to be patient, his hand tightening around yours.

"Baby, I'm just trying to be considerate. I know you’ve got it, alright? Just a couple more steps.”

You nod your head, blinking away your tears as you follow him upward. When you finally make it to the top, you’re breathless, watching as he quickly places the blanket atop of the grass. 

You’re holding onto your belly as you exhale, “She has to be over five pounds already.”

His deep tone releases a chuckle, hand gripping the curve of your back as he gently guides you towards the blanket, your body lowering itself with your hands clutching his bicep.

Toji’s already tugging your journal out of your hand, setting it on the blanket, free palm giving a smack to your ass, “Probably more. You’ve been a fuckin’ soldier carrying her, baby.” 

Your hips shudder a bit at his palm, finally able to catch your breath as you stare over the horizon. It’s more beautiful than the last time you’d come—vibrant green grass, a field of miniature pink flowers spread across the top, running all the way back down to the bottom. The air feels cooler, your breathing going back to normal as you softly smile at the scenery. 

“You remember when you proposed to me? Here?”

"You didn't even let me,” A gruff chuckle releases from his lips, "Your little ass said yes as soon as I mentioned I had something important to give you. You knew exactly what was in that box."

You giggle, pulling him down next to you as you say, “Maybe I was a little overzealous—But I was so happy.”

You reach towards your picnic basket, opening the top as you pull out the wrapped up food, “I made those pepper jack sandwiches you like. With the sourdough bread?”

"With romaine lettuce?”

“Mhmm.”

His palm rests on your jaw, turning your face up towards him, lips pecking against yours,"You didn't have to do all this, Kirei josei. You're already givin’ me my baby girl."

“There’s two of me now. More love to give, hm?” You kiss him back, “I know you’re hungry,” you hand him the sandwich, digging back towards the basket as you want your favorite fruit—strawberries. As usual, your husband scarfed it down in seconds, munching like a predator that hadn't eaten in days. He would never change.

You always enjoyed each other's company, talkative or not. You laid along the soft fuzz of the blanket as you wrote within your journal, rolling your eyes as your husband stood a couple feet away to take a business call, unable to stop his habit of smoking. But you couldn’t lie—watching his eyes narrow, full lips holding the bud within his mouth, deep voice harshly pushing out his native language—it was attractive. Something in your body throbbed, not in a way you were supposed to in public. 

Another reminder of your stubbornness—you knew that spring time was the worst, the pollen within the area attacking your body like a swarm. You held your journal within your hand as you kept writing, every so often pressing the booklet to your face as you sneezed.

Toji makes his way back towards you, one of his hands resting along your thigh. He’s close, his breath tickling along your neck as he questions, "You cold, baby?"

His voice is in your ear. You’re not cold, but a chill comes through your spine at that. You then give him a sneeze in response, the sound soft as you lightly shriek through it. 

You shake your head, nose becoming red as you huff, “Just allergies.”

"That's why you're supposed to take your pills," he mutters, his eyes glancing over the way your nose is scrunched. He thinks you're cute. 

“Want me to go grab them from the truck?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure, leaning your head on his shoulder as you press your journal up towards his face, “Look, I wrote some more names. Wanna hear 'em’?”

"Show me.” 

You could feel his chest vibrating, lips pressing a kiss on top of your head. Even sitting, he's large against your frame, and it doesn't seem to help your libido. 

“Okay, I found—Umeko, which means apricot, or plum. And you call me Amai, which means sweet, so she could our my lil’ Umeko!—yeah?” You lean your head up, pointing at the doodles around the name you’d drawn.

“She’s gonna be sweet like her momma,” he gruffly chuckles, his thumb traveling over the curve of your thigh, “You don’t want any western names?”

You squint, “And have my black ass family give basic names? Yeah, no,” you ignore his grin, feeling his nose brush along your throat as he adjusts himself into your shoulder, “Every time I tell them my name ideas, they say that they’re weird. I’m okay with more cultural names.”

"I like that one. Umeko,” He repeats, "You wanna use it?"

The way his breath is warm against your neck makes your throat go dry. The way his fingers trail over your thigh—It was difficult to even focus on the topic at hand. Your eyes flutter each time his palm cups your hip.

You adjust yourself a bit, keeping your eyes against the journal as you reply, “I’ll put it at the top.”

As said before, he notices everything about you. His voice drops lower, his palm gripping your hip a little tighter as he feels the energy you emit. 

“You alright, momma? You’ getting sleepy?”

You’re drowsy again. You watch his palm slide down your leg, reaching for your bare foot, squeezing the tense muscle beneath his fingers. It feels good. 

You shift yourself even more as you quietly admit, “No—my feet still are hurting a bit, though.”

“Should’ve told me earlier.” 

From the way he’s leaning down, his lips are pressing against your shoulder. One hand massages your foot, the other kneading the soft flesh of your thighs. That thick thumb, it continuously brushes over the inner sides. You sigh as he massages both feet, kneading to release the tension within your muscles. He moves to where you lean your back against his chest, lifting the point of your foot towards the sky. It makes you giggle a bit, rubbing at the swell of your belly.

“You good?” 

His tone is huskier now. Toji’s hot breath makes you flutter your lashes, head slightly falling to the side to expose the skin of your throat—And he latches onto it, sucking the flesh between his lips.

Your curls are soft against his shoulder as you lean your head back, eyes fluttering shut the moment his mouth attaches to your skin. You snake your hand upwards, reaching for his hair as you find a lock of it to tug on.

 You breathily sigh, “Y���Yeah…”

The way he’s kissing your throat, his tongue glides before he sucks the flesh back between his teeth, it’s sultry, his fingers wrapping around your ankle, gently taking your leg to raise over his own.

He does it with the other in a matter of seconds, your legs spread open against the blanket, only hidden by the material of your dress. You tug a little more on his hair, your hand nervously clutching your belly, eyes rolling a bit as he continuously sucks on your throat. 

“T—Toji,” your voice is soft, “We’re outside, baby…”

“I know.”

His voice is deep, the heat of his breath makes you shudder. His hand travels up your thigh, slowly inching past your dress. 

“Just give me ten minutes, baby. Let me have you.”

Your hand slides lower from his hair, holding the nape of his neck the moment your legs are being pulled wider. Your chest expands as you feel his fingers swiping in between your inner thighs, his middle and ring finger rubbing against the fabric of your panties, grinding at your clit. Your eyes blink shut against his throat, hiding your face within his shoulder as you whimper. 

“Shit—you’re wet, baby. That fast?”

Toji’s voice makes you hide your face more into the skin of his throat, a small gasp emitting from your lips as he dips his hand beneath your thong. Your pussy keens beneath his touch. Your hips tense as you raise them a bit, eyes closing as you whimper again, “Just rub it a little…” 

He hears you, placing the pad of his fingers against your clit, massaging in the softest way. He can feel how warm you are, how much you want this.

The pressure makes your eyes screw shut—you moan into his neck. You're quiet, but he can still hear you, feeling the way your breath hitches against his flesh.

He's not in a rush despite the need he has for you. He takes his time, watching your body react to his touch. The way your hips move, the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the way your nails dig into his skin. You’re sensitive.

His free hand reaches up, cupping your cheek as he turns your face towards him. He glares at you. He wants to see your eyes, needing to see the pleasure written all over your face. Leaning in, Toji pressing his lips against yours in a slow, passionate kiss.

You’re panting against his mouth, lightly pulling back as you press your forehead against his. Your lips tremble into a pout, unable to stop the gasp your mouth pulls, your thighs spreading even wider—your mind is spinning. 

“Put them in me, baby.”

“That’s how you ask me?”

“Put them i—in me,” you attempt at a softer tone, “Please.”

He’s already nudging his fingers in, curling them all while pushing them in between your folds, spreading your opening around his knuckles. Your mouth parts open against his, eyes rolling back, thighs trembling as you hide your whine in between his lips. Toji groans.

It’s as if you forget where you’re at—the moment he takes you to a place of wanting him, you can’t repeat the things you do without blushing. You reach for his wrist, your fingers digging into his skin as you try to push him in deeper. You're breathless, your entire body trembling as you begin tugging his wrist up and down, your arousal sloshing each time his fingers go deeper. 

You pout against his mouth, “Ughn,” brushing your nose against his cheek.

“Baby, you gotta keep quiet,” he reminds at first, his breath hot against your ear— But he can’t help himself, look at you.

 He then grunts to you, “You sound so fuckin’ good. Say it again.” 

“Ughn,” you breathe out in a filthy repetition, your voice a whisper, your head tilting backwards, eyes half-lidded as you stare up at the sky. Your cheeks are a light shade of pink, your mouth parted open.

“Look at that shit just going in.”

He refers to his fingers, curling into you each time they scathe at the flush of your walls, squeezing the intrusion of his palm. 

You’re grinding yourself against his lap, “Take it out, baby. I’ll be quiet.” 

He doesn’t stop, and it feels as if he doesn’t believe your words. You were loud, always had been. 

But you were also stubborn. 

You pull your legs from over his, managing to turn yourself around to straddle him this time around, pulling him by the back of his neck into a kiss. Your tongue swirls within his mouth as you push him back, Toji flat against the blanket as you pull your mouth from his, “Wanna ride your face.”

You’re already climbing forward, gently pressing your knees to the sides of his head, keeping your hips elevated to not suffocate him. His eyes are focused on the way your folds glisten under the sunlight. You giggle at the way he kisses the bottom of your stomach, the bump of your belly making him grunt.

You tug at your bottom lip again, shivering as you feel Toji’s breath against your folds. You let out a soft whine when you feel his tongue, rotating in circles, swirling it against your clit, dragging it all around your folds. 

You shudder, “A—Ah, b—baby…” twisting your fingers in his hair, using your other hand to place his palms against your hips. 

His hands latch onto your hips, helping guide you in the pace you want. He keeps his tongue moving, flicking against your clit, dragging it across your entrance, swirling it around your labia. He groans, loving the taste of you, your scent filling his nostrils like a perfume. 

He can’t stop himself—he’s sucking at your clit, feeling as you move your hips to his rhythm—He’s making your arousal worse. 

“‘Need you, Daddy.”

There it is. That fucking name. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, “Put that shit in. C’mon.” 

You slide yourself down until you’re straddling his lap, reaching beneath yourself to pull his tip from beneath his jeans. His voice is husky as he questions, “You comfortable, baby? I’m hittin’ your stomach?”

You shake your head, pecking his lips, “I’m okay, baby. Can’t wait anymore,” your voice is high, too drunk of a lustful intoxication. 

Nudging your nose against his, you’re slapping his tip against your pussy—he makes a face at you, which makes you lightly giggle in return. Placing your hands along his chest, your curls hang above his face as you sway your hips, sinking yourself down, splitting your folds open, engulfing your walls around the length of him. You can only hear the nature around the two of you. It’s silent—both of your mouths parting open as you look at each other. You try not to react to the pleasurable pinch you feel, but you can’t help it—your curls fly up a bit as you press your nose into his, breathlessly panting another giggle, quickly turning to a deep whimper. 

You’re trembling, your voice tiny as you quiver, “O—oh shit…” 

He feels the heat between your legs, it’s warmer than anything. It feels good against his skin, his shoulders flexing as he tries not to move. He can feel your breath panting into his mouth, the way your body shakes from the feeling of you sinking down onto him. 

His palm is wrapped along the nape of your curls. You keep his mouth close as you raise your hips a bit, lowering them back down. Your voice is so soft as you quiver, “Oh my god…”

You begin to find a bit of a pace, still going slow, but moving as your fingers dig into his shoulder, whining. 

His voice is husky, “Keep goin’,” he urges.

You feel his forearm adding pressure to your lower back, helping you drop yourself down a little faster. The strength he has adds on by the second, and you’re lightly bouncing—it makes you frown, a pout coming to your lips as you whimper again, “U—ughn…” 

He watches your face twist, eyes closing as you move against him, those pretty lips pouting out as a whimper goes from the back of your throat. He watches you bite the bottom of your lip, the way your breath is heavy.

“That little pout,” he chuckles, “It feels that good?”

He has you right where he needs you—your brown cheeks flush as you lean onto his shoulder, pressing your toes into the ground for more leverage—your eyes roll back heavily and you bounce on top of him, material of your dress swaying with each clap of your ass.

“You love me?” He questions, watching your body, up and down, low eyes taking notice of the arousal that coats his tip—you’re creaming. 

You nod in response, teeth dug into your lip to mask the petulant babbles you want to release. But that’s when Toji grunts, “Say you fuckin’ love me,” the word being met with his palm spanking you, gripping the flesh of your ass, plopping you down onto his dick even harder than before.

You whine, “I love you,” pressing your face within his jaw, “Can’t wait to have your baby…”

A low groan escapes him, “You’re gonna be a pretty ass momma, baby,” his hands gripping onto your ass as he thrusts upwards, meeting your movements. You can feel the way his muscles flex, the way his breathing becomes heavier, the way his heart races. Those grey eyes bore into your brown ones. 

“Fuckin’ nasty—You love it when I spank you, huh?” His voice is rough, eyes burning into your sockets. He smacks your ass again, watching the way your cheeks jiggle.

“Fuck.”

You’re moaning, throwing your head back, breasts bouncing as you continue to ride him. You're soaking him at this point, your arousal dripping down his shaft, trailing his balls.

“…T—Toji!” you nearly startle yourself at your own voice, cupping your hands against his face, tears returning within your feline eyes as you warn, “Gonna c—cum…” you’re covering your mouth, skin flushed, a sob faltering in between your fingers.

“Don’t cover that shit.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours, leaning your weight onto him, gaze locked within your eyes— he’s thrusting upwards, hitting directly at your g-spot. You’re cumming.

“It’s okay, momma,” he promises, “Relax. Just cum.” 

And you do—You throw your head back, gentle voice rippling a sob into the trees, his name, anything, tears streaming down your face—Your walls are milking him, and he loves every second of it.

His large palm drags along the top of your mouth, still angling his hips into you while muffling your squeals, leaning up to press your forehead against his. It was rare for him to moan, but when he did, you whimpered in return, feeling the warmth of his cum filling your walls. 

You repeat in a softer tone, “I love you, Fushiguro.”

“I love you.” 

His voice was a groan. 

His jaw falls slack, teeth digging into the bottom flesh of his plush lips. That scarred mouth releases another grunt of pleasure, keeping you close as you catch your breath. 

His hand then wraps around your own, his fingers trailing along your wedding band, placing both of your palms against your belly.

“You okay?”

You nod your head, face flushed as you softly giggle, “Perfect.”

His hand leaves yours, tracing a pattern along the top of your skin. The feeling of him running his long fingers along your tummy made your skin buzz. As if on cue, the baby decides to kick.

You gasp, “Baby, she’s kicking! Oh no. You interrupted her nap!”

He chuckles, leaning down to press his lips against the bump before speaking into your belly.

"Umeko, Daddy’s sorry.” 

There’s a couple of kicks in response—She didn’t forgive him.

“Awe, you said the name I picked out.” 

Why were your eyes watering? You weren’t sure. You giggle as you’re teary eyed, pulling him up as you press multiple kisses to his face, ignoring his grunt in response. 

You give him a sigh, “I’m hungry. And I have to pee!” 

“You’re making me wanna smoke again,” Toji pinched the bridge of his nose, “Do you wanna pee, or eat first?”

“I’ll go pee, I guess.”

“C’mere. Let me help you up.”

“Wanna roll me down the hill?”

“No, woman.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re no fun. Let's go!” 

[dollbrbie]

♡ ⸝⸝ HOW THE AGE GAP AFFECTS YOUR RELATIONSHIP

cw. toji & panther!reader, age gap, smut kinda so mdni

EXPERIENCE

with yours and toji’s age gap being around a decade, there’s definitely a huge difference in experience. this doesn’t necessarily just mean with sex, but it’s safe to say toji has been round the block a little. after all, he’s an attractive man so it wasn’t unexpected when he had said he was experienced. it did start to make you feel a little out of place, though. you just felt so innocent compared to him. but, toji will never want his girl to feel unsure about herself when he’s around.

“you don’t need to get so worked up about it, sweetheart. i can always teach ‘ya.”, he’ll say with his signature smirk, and in that moment, you don’t feel so bad about it.

LIFESTYLE

with that being said, toji has a lot of life experience compared to you. he’s had his fun in his twenties, partying and drinking, the one night stands that come with it. now, he just wants to settle down. he spends most of his weekends at home when he’s not working at the club. and trust me, he’s not working there because he loves the atmosphere. whenever he does go out, it’ll be with a few of his friends just to have a couple beers.

with you though, you wanna have your fun! you’re still young and you haven’t really lived you life yet. so, you and your girls will regularly go out clubbing, to the bar or to some festival. and while toji will always fund you for it, he’s never going to be happy about it. he knows what goes on there as a guy. it’s not like he doesn’t trust you, he just doesn’t trust the other men around you and he really wishes you’d understand that better.

ARGUMENTS

this links back to the last point. while arguments are pretty rare between you two, when they do happen, it’s very clear the age difference and maturity between you both and most of the time it’s because of your lifestyle. you can get pretty fiery at times, always defending yourself, while toji just can’t deal with it. he’s the type of guy who’ll just walk off during arguments when they get heated, leaving you to overthink and think the absolute worst. he just thinks he’s too old for it.

and sometimes, you can even get a little petty. posting on your instagram story when you’re at the club, maybe showing a hint of some guys shoulder. yeah, it’s kinda toxic, but toji knows you better than to ever cheat on him. but it definitely gets him riled up the way you want him to.

afterwards, you always find yourself beneath him, having him fuck your brains out just the way you wanted. he knows you do this on purpose, but he can’t help but fall for it every time.

FRIENDS & FAMILY

this one is a hit and miss. your friends have known toji for just as long as you have, so they’re more than okay with your relationship with him. even when you’re not out with them, toji will look out for your girls, making sure weird guys stay away from them, watching over in case of anything suspicious. honestly, they love him and your relationship.

however, your family definitely don’t approve as much. you can’t really blame them too much, they’re just trying to look out for you. and with toji’s appearance, he’s not really giving the boy next door vibes. they never invite him round for family gatherings or dinner, they kinda just.. ignore him. after their countless attempts, they know they’ll get an earful from you if they say anything too out of order, so they just let you do you at this point. they have the mindset that hopefully you’ll grow up one day and realise that your relationship isn’t gonna last.

but toji is determined, he’s been made very aware that your family don’t particularly love him. but, he knows you’re the one, the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. so he’ll try and try and try again until he gets it right. because one day, he wants to be putting a ring on your finger, and he certainly doesn’t want your dad scowling at him whilst walking you down the isle.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 SERIES MASTERLIST

[clockwayswrites]

Fresh Birb! Part 32

masterpost

“Thanks for the excuse to get some fresh air,” Danny said. He sounded grateful enough that Jason felt a little bad for using the ‘stroll around the yard’ as an way to gather some intel.

“Hey, trust me, I get how overwhelming the manor can get,” Jason said, “and there are a lot of us in house right now. It’s easier in small doses for sure.”

“I could see that,” Danny agreed. “But there’s also something nice about the full house. It’s all very… alive feeling.”

The words were more melancholy than they should be. They were more like how Jason, who knew the feeling of death all too well, might say them. It brought troubling thoughts to mind.

“Yeah, that can be nice about it. Sure is quieter if I’m not here or at Roy’s,” Jason agreed after maybe too long a moment.

“Is Roy that much more talkative when it’s just the two of you?”

“Oh, no. Well, yeah, but it’s more about his little girl, Lian. She’s three and a half and an absolute handful most days. She’s also at that age where she’s pretty much narrating her own life in half understandable babble so there’s just a lot of constant noise.”

Danny chuckled. “I bet. Stayed with a friend for a bit when I was between jobs and stuck there for a few months by a non-complete clause. Her one kid was that age at the time and the oldest five. I didn’t know just how much everything there was when having kids that age. It made me actually feel a little sorry for my parents.”

“You the youngest, oldest, or middle?”

“Youngest. I’ve got one older sister, Jasmine,” Danny said. “You could sorta say there’s a half a sibling too. I basically grew up with my best friend and there were some weeks I spent more time at his house than ours.”

“That close to him?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. That and it was easier, sometimes, to not be at home.”

“Oh.”

That implied some unfortunate things that Jason hadn’t quite been expecting. Danny seemed pretty well adjusted. He was even good at handling Damian, but Jason supposed that maybe part of that was because Danny had been through his own issues.

Danny just shrugged. “I have a life long friend out of it. We don’t see each other in person much these days since we’re on other sides of the country, but we still talk plenty.”

Jason gave a soft hum and, a beat later, asked, “What made you end up in Gotham of all places?”

“Wayne Enterprises, actually,” Danny said. “The rep in the industry as place to work is unparalleled really, especially for what I want to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Help people,” Danny said, honestly and with a crooked little smile. “Which I know sounds cheesy, but I really wanted to create things that help people. It’s not like I mind making a better cellphone battery or anything, but it’s nice to know that I get to work on things that help not just with the little, everyday issues but also the big, life changing ones. The fact that those things get to help the city I live in too is a real plus.”

“Gotham has a way of getting to you like that,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” Danny replied softly, gaze in the direction of the Gotham sky line.

And then a scream split the air.

Not a human scream, thankfully, but a repeated screech that had both of them starting and looking around for the source. The screech turned to a warbling clucking as Jerry emerged from behind the landscaping. His tail was high and spread, his wing tips brushed the ground, and he was looking almost shockingly colorful.

“A turkey?”

“Damian’s.”

“Damian has a turkey,” Danny said slowly.

“And a cow,” Jason said. “Cat, dog, a few snakes. He tried to keep a rat but Alfred stopped that pretty quickly.”

Danny rubbed at his temple. “This is why he knew how to take care of wings, isn’t it?”

Jason tried not to smile. “That came up, huh?”

“He’s been sending Bruce information about it,” Danny answered.

Jerry made another loud warble and struck what Jason could only describe as a pose.

“So… does he do this often?”

“His name is Jerry, and nope,” Jason said and pulled out his phone.

Jerry strutted closer to Danny, tail feathers shaking.

“Oh… oh,” Danny said with the tone of someone for who horrible realization was dawning. “Can you, ah, talk him down?”

“I’m afraid I’m morally obligated to film this,” Jason said somberly. He couldn’t hold back his smirk any longer.

Danny shot him a withering look and started to back up towards the Manor. “Really.”

“Really. Good luck.”

“Well, fuck,” Danny said and then took off running.

Jerry followed at top speed with a scream.

Jason sent the video to Bruce. ‘You have competition.’

[asxgard]

Heartbeat | one shot

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x pregnant wife!doctor!reader

Summary: You get called in to assist with the mass casualty event on your day off and you’re grateful to be there when your husband finally breaks.

Note: episode 13 hurt a lot so I wrote this to cope. Likely will write more specific stuff after I’ve fully processed.

Word Count: 4.4k+

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

Warnings: age gap (16ish years, I have a problem okay? The age gap trope feeds me), hospital/medical inaccuracies, hurt/comfort, panic attack, foul language, angst (it’s who I am), gore/gun violence (Pittfest), vague details from ep. 11-13, pet names (baby, my love), non-graphic shower scene, fluff at the end because we deserve it after that episode???

not beta read

You had met Dr. Robinavitch when you started in the ED as an attending. While your love blossomed slowly, it bloomed into so much more than you were expecting. It had been a bit of a whirlwind, from dating secretly to Dana and Jack finding out only a month after, to getting engaged just a year later.

You had done what you could to keep it from the hospital administration, but the time came where you got married and paperwork needed to be filed. You kept your maiden name to ensure there was no confusion, plus it added to your privacy. Everyone you worked with knew you were married, just not to each other, but it was more of an open secret to some of the nurses and other attendings.

Gloria nearly moved you to a different department. She tried separating you by shifts, maybe hoping you would leave and find work in a different hospital. Michael was technically your boss, after all. In her reports, however, she found that when you two were on shift together, it was seamless. Like you two operated on a frequency that no one else was even aware of.

Despite the bumps in the road, and Michael’s aversion for talking about his feelings, you made it work. Some shifts could be frustrating, and that sometimes got carried home, but you respected each other immensely. Michael was not keen on letting such a good thing in his life go that easily, and eventually opened up about Adamson and the toll the pandemic had taken on him.

After that hurdle, everything else was easy. Eventually, you decided to grow your family, and you got pregnant not even five months later.

—

On the fourth year anniversary of Adamson’s death, you were surprised to find Michael preparing for a shift.

“Didn’t you take off?” You asked, watching him dress into his scrubs.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at you. “Peterson had a family thing, and I know they’re short staffed.”

You frowned, “You could’ve asked me.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He said, turning to look at you and his heart swelled at the sight. “I don’t want you to cancel your appointment.”

You sat on that for a moment. For as busy as you both were, Michael had made time for every appointment you had after finding out you were pregnant.

“I know, I know. I promise I won’t miss the next one.”

That satisfied you. For all Michael was, someone to break his promise was not one of them.

“I was hoping to find out the gender today,” you said with a tiny smile. “But a little anticipation never hurt anyone.”

He looked grateful at your words, moving to kiss you. He tasted like mint, holding your head so gently in his hands. Your hands moved to his chest, wanting to hold him against you, but you released him.

“Jake know yet?”

He smiled, “Yeah. He asked to take his girlfriend instead.”

You raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Oh?”

You and Jake had gotten close slowly, him being like a step-son to Michael, but now you loved the kid.

“If you need anything, just call, alright?”

He nodded, grabbing his coffee, giving you one last lingering kiss before heading out the door.

—

Your day was mildly uneventful, taking your time with a handful of chores before sitting out on the balcony to have lunch. Your OB appointment had gone well, and you got a recording of the heartbeat, knowing Michael might need to hear it after his shift.

As time moved, you missed that Michael had not been able to be there with you. You missed his touch and his presence beside you. Dinner came with a takeout box of your latest craving, before your phone rang.

Jack Abbott’s name flashed on your screen. You still worked a few shifts with him from time-to-time, but Michael had you mostly scheduled for days, with him.

“Hey,” you said when you answered.

“Did you hear?”

“That’s so specific, Jack,” you said, opening the fridge to scan your snack options.

“There was a shooting at Pittfest, unknown number of casualties. Closest trauma center is PTMC.”

Your heart stuttered to a stop, “What?”

“Heard it on the scanner. You’ll likely get an alert that it’s all hands on deck, but I wanted to give you a heads up before traffic got too bad.”

Despite not being super close with Jack, you were still friends and you knew he had your back. While you hated being treated with careful hands at work now that you were pregnant, part of you still appreciated the gesture of it. It was like something unspoken had happened between Michael and Jack months ago, both of them moving to take the more combative patients whenever you were around.

“Shit, Jack.” You breathed out, rushing into your bedroom to grab your scrubs. “Fuck, Jake is at Pittfest. Let me try to reach him.” You fumbled through your drawers, taking a deep breath through your nose. “I’ll be in. See you soon.”

“Drive safe!” He said before the call disconnected.

After changing, you moved to grab a few odd snacks and water bottles, stuffing them into your lunch bag, along with your cell phone charger. Who knew how long this was going to take, or if Michael had had the chance at any point today to eat. He hadn’t texted or called, but that was not uncommon. The Pitt never made it easy, which was why you were grateful that you worked most of your shifts with your husband.

You tried reaching Jake, leaving a voicemail and a text message before reaching out to his mother. You briefly explained the situation and asked for an update as soon as she heard anything, before you promised the same.

When you got into your car, you took a deep breath to steady your heart before beginning your way to PTMC.

Michael called you, your phone ringing through the car’s Bluetooth.

“Hey, don’t have much time, but I need you.” He told you, his voice quiet but full of so much emotion.

“I’m already on my way. Abbott called ten minutes ago. Tried calling out to Jake, too, he didn’t answer. Told his mom to reach out to either of us if she heard anything.” You said in a rush, coming to a stop at a light. Almost there.

He let out a breath that almost sounded like relief.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The mass alert came through your phone as soon as he hung up. Thank fuck for Jack.

You made it into the parking garage, waving at the security guard now posted at the entrance. You sat in your car for just a minute to get your bearings, knowing tonight was going to be a shitshow.

As you entered the Emergency Department, you saw patients leaving, escorted by nurses and admin staff — and you moved quickly into the back. It was a circus, but you spotted Michael and Jack and beelined for them.

Michael’s brown eyes caught you as you approached and his face relaxed, though his shoulders were still tense. Dana was beside them, and her usual quip of “Oh I get Dr. R squared today?” did not fall from her lips, but she was sporting a black eye. You looked at her in alarm, but she waved it off.

“Just another happy customer.” She said, but you only frowned at her.

Michael spoke next, introducing you, and then quickly running down the new faces to you: Dr. Mel King, an R2, Dennis Whittaker, an M4, Victoria Javadi, an M3, and Dr. Trinity Santos, an intern. You tried to remember their names, but knew you would not likely remember them in the chaos.

You went to quickly put your stuff down, and when you turned around, Michael was standing there. To everyone else, he appeared neutral, controlled, normal. To you? He was wearing his shift all over his face and you could see plainly that it had not been a good one.

“This is going to be stressful, I should’ve let you stay home—”

While you appreciated his concern, you would have come anyway. “I promise, if I get too stressed out, I’ll let myself take a few minutes. But you have me. What can I do to help?”

“I need you in pink zone.” He told you, moving right back to business. “You’ll be with McKay and Javadi, and incoming night shift. But I need you at the head of it.”

“You got it.” You said, honored he was trusting you to run point on your zone.

—

While the victims did not stop coming, you found yourself moving mostly on instinct. Assessing, treating, moving along — trying to do your best to teach when you came across any of the new faces. You flitted into red zone when there was a particularly bad patient and then moved to triage so Dr. Shen could take a quick bathroom break.

When you assisted Michael, you moved together like a well oiled machine — and despite the tragedy, it came to you both naturally. You only barely registered the tension between Michael and Dr. Frank Langdon — a senior resident, and someone Michael had taken under his wing. You would have to remember to ask about it.

Time moved by in a blur, but you were painfully aware of every minute, every patient that came under your care. All the blood, all the death, all the tragedy.

It only got worse when Jake arrived, thought were thankful he was alive. He was asking about his girlfriend when you approached.

“Jake?” You got his attention as you began to take in his appearance. Jesus Christ, he was covered in blood.

“It’s mostly her blood,” he told you blankly, eyes moving around the room at the carnage. “It’s mostly her blood.”

You called for a wheelchair, your gaze searching for Michael. He was working on a patient, giving CPR from the look of it, the patient blocked from your view by the charge desk.

“Take a seat, Jake.” You told him softly, gently touching his shoulder. “Let me take a look at you, yeah?”

He sat down, his head swiveling around to locate his girlfriend. “I think—I think I got hit in the leg.”

You nodded, moving him into the yellow zone so you could bandage him up. You were not related and there were no official familial ties, so there were no problems of ethics — at least that was what you told yourself.

He moved to stand, and you pushed his shoulder back down.

“Let me assess you and then I promise I’ll go check on your girlfriend, okay?”

Jake nodded numbly and moved onto the gurney so you could look at his leg. His injury was not as bad as you had feared, and while you knew he would need stitches, you made do with some bandages for the time being.

“What’s her name?” You asked, trying to bring his attention back to you.

“Leah,” he told you, voice heavy with emotion. “I need to see her.”

While you did not understand the full panic he was experiencing, you knew Leah was in good hands.

“She’s with Robby, Jake. Leah is getting the best care.”

He was still not looking at you, and you got him set up with an IV antibiotic drip.

“Jake? Jake, can you call your mom for me? Cell service might not be great right now, but can you try? She’s worried about you.”

He took that information in slowly, before nodding.

The call did not go through, but you made him promise to keep trying while you assured him you were going to check on his girlfriend.

By the time you reached Michael, he was calling time of death and your heart constricted. You wanted to scream. By the look in his eyes, you can see he wanted to as well. You could feel Jack’s gaze on you and when you turned, he simply shook his head at you. You easily translated that to ‘your husband is not doing good’.

“I couldn’t save her.” Michael whispered, and only you caught it.

You gave his hand a subtle squeeze.

Jack was there then, reading the situation perfectly, “No one could have saved her. Maybe if this was a normal day, but it tore right through her heart. There was not much we could do.”

Fuck, you thought, she’s so young. You hoped she did not suffer.

Michael moved to find Jake and you followed him, but he stopped you.

“Can you take over for me in red so I can let Jake know?”

Every part of you screamed to go with him, but you nodded, turning to step back into pace with the work. You tried to push away your emotions, packaging them away to deal with later, but compartmentalizing was tough. You felt guilty for never meeting this girl, someone Jake had so obviously cared a lot about.

You attempted to get lost in the work, but you caught sight of Michael wheeling Jake out of Peds — the current place they have been putting the deceased — and the look on your husband’s face made your heart plummet. He had moved back into the room, leaving Jake just outside and you quickly gestured to a passing nurse to get him back to yellow.

The security guard did not make any comment when you walked into Peds, and you were devastated at what you found. Aside from the deceased, the number of them slowly ticking upwards, it was the sight of Michael on the floor in tears that truly struck you.

After ripping the curtain closed behind you, to block the view into the hall, and give you both just a small amount of privacy, you moved back toward Michael. It had been a long time since you had seen him like this. He had broken down when he told you about Adamson and the weight of his choice, and once he had even broken down after a particularly bad argument, but nothing like this.

“Baby, baby, hey,” you crouched down beside him, but you did not move to touch him.

His breath caught in his throat, but his sobs continued, hyperventilating with his arms pulled across his bent knees.

“Michael,” you tried, a name you had never called him when within the walls of the hospital.

His watery gaze met yours for just a moment, before his eyes were back in his lap, face scrunched. His ears were red, as well as his face, with red rimmed eyes that broke something in you.

“Michael.” You stressed again, moving so your hands hovered just above his arms. “Can you look at me?”

“I—I—I couldn’t—fuck—I didn’t save her.” His breaths came in short bursts, in in in out, in in out, tears coming down his face, his cheeks red.

You found yourself at a loss on how to help him — you knew none of his thoughts were rational at the moment, and anguish rushed through your veins, feeling so helpless. So useless.

An odd idea struck you, and you pulled out your phone before you could doubt yourself. You flipped through a few of your apps before settling on the one you had used to record your baby’s heartbeat.

“Can you take a deep breath with me?” You asked gently. You took a deep breath in through your nose and then out through your mouth.

You didn’t give him time to respond before you were pressing play on the recording. The sound of it filled the room with something other than Michael’s panic, and he quieted just enough to listen to it.

“That’s our baby.” You told him, though the sound of it was obvious enough, racing steadily like hoof beats.

His eyes found yours, and while he was still breathing quickly, he seemed to have returned to the reality around you, rather than stuck in his head. Relief took a bit of the weight from your shoulders.

“Can you breathe with me?” You asked again, finally touching his arm.

His hand found yours immediately and squeezed, but he nodded. You took a few more deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth, watching as he mirrored you.

Aside from the quick beats of your baby’s heart, the deep breaths you both took filled the room. You desperately tried to ignore the dead around you, trying to solely focus on the man in front of you. When the recording came to a stop, Michael’s hand twitched toward your phone.

“Can you play it again?”

You nodded, pressing play and handing him your phone. The fast heartbeat filled the space again, and he cradled your phone like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was.

“Very active today.” You told him. “Wouldn’t sit still.”

A ghost of a smile passed over his lips, but it was gone in a moment.

“I have a video file that they sent me from today, but I didn’t want to look at it without you. Figured if either of us looked long enough, we’d be able to tell the gender ourselves.”

“Can we?” He asked, looking at you with tears still in his eyes.

You smiled, moving to sit next to him. You did not know how long the moment was going to last — sooner or later, someone was going to come looking for either of you. You tried to ignore it, trying to center yourself in this moment with Michael, forgetting about the outside world for just a moment.

Clicking on the video you had saved, you both sat quietly watching your baby move. Michael grabbed your hand in his and held it close to his chest. This was only going to be a bandaid, but any distraction was a welcomed one in that moment.

“They’re healthy. Measured 6.6 inches, 11 ounces.” You rattled off, moving your other hand to his head and running your nails along his scalp and through his hair. Any time in the past that he had had a panic attack in your company, you found that at the tail end of it, he enjoyed the feeling of your hands on him. Like it was grounding.

Michael’s hyperventilating had fully stopped, though a handful of tears still slipped through. His face was still scrunched in pain, but he watched the video attentively.

“You did all you could, my love,” you whispered. “No one could have saved her. Not even if it was all of us and just her. I’m so sorry.”

“Jake—”

You hushed him, “Jake is still in shock. He’s grieving. Whatever he said to you, he didn't mean it.”

“No, no, he does. I didn’t save her. I told him I would. I told him.”

You brought your lips to his temple, closing your eyes and willing no tears to come. You couldn’t, not now.

Michael tapped on the video again, watching as your baby moved, kicking against your womb like it was their job.

“It’s not your fault.” You told him, moving across the floor until you met his gaze. “I would never lie to you, you know that. I promise. If anyone could have saved her, it would have been you.”

His face scrunched again like he was going to cry.

You held him in your arms, squeezing him tight to your chest, hoping perhaps the more you squeezed, the more he would believe you.

You held his face in your hands, and willed him to look at you. “I love you so much, Michael. This was not your fault. Blame the shooter, they caused this whole thing. Jake will see that eventually, you haven’t lost him.”

Brown eyes held steady on yours, searching them with a gaze that nearly made you shy away. But you hold strong, wiping away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Robby! Robby!” Dana’s voice came through the curtain, before it was pushed aside.

Dana only blinked at the sight of you, you knelt in front of your husband, both of your faces twisted and pained.

You found your voice, “Just two minutes, Dana. Please.”

She only nodded, closing the curtain again and disappearing.

“I can’t promise the rest of this is going to be any easier, but,” You paused. “Fuck it, if you want to leave, we can blame me right now. Say I have high blood pressure and you want to make sure I get home safe. I don’t care. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

You remembered all the times he covered for you when your morning sickness made you late, or when he had taken time away from the hectic flow to talk you through a bad case, or a death. When he shouldered the weight of an abrasive family member or aggressive patient, even before you were married. The times he let you leave early when you were having a bad day, or encouraged you to take breaks even when he didn’t.

“Let me try to take care of you right now. Please. Whatever you need.”

Michael took a long breath, rubbing his eyes. “Let me just splash some water on my face. After…stay by my side?”

“Done. If you need a minute, tell me to take a break and come with me. I can shoulder that right now.”

You did not say it because you thought he was weak, but simply because you felt you had the capacity to bear the brunt of the remainder of this shift. People knew he was going to worry about you regardless of the situation, so him ‘checking in’ would not phase them.

“Michael,” you started as you both moved to stand, him offering a hand to help you, “You’ve always been so great with Jake, just give him some time.” You paused, “You’re going to be an amazing father to our child.”

Tears flooded his eyes again and you felt like you had just made it worse while trying to make it better.

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. How on earth did I—”

You cupped his cheek and hushed him again, bringing his face to yours until your foreheads touched. “I’m the lucky one.”

He kissed you softly, before bringing you into a hug, careful of your growing bump.

When you parted, he took one last deep breath before facing the chaos that awaited you both out in the ED. You knew the heavier parts of your conversation were going to have to be shelved until you got home.

Michael moved toward the closest bathroom and you rushed back to red zone. There were no words to exchange with Jack, but with a knowing glance at him, he seemed to understand.

“Robby’s moving me to red. Bilal’s got pink covered.” You told him, referencing the night attending.

Abbott only nodded.

When Michael returned only a minute later, you watched him — had you not known him that well, you might not have been able to guess what had just transpired. You were thankful no one else in the hospital knew him as well as you did.

You got back to work, busying your hands to try to stop your mind from worrying too much. Whatever he had done in the bathroom, he had clearly thrown his panic attack into a bag and stuffed it deep inside his mind. It made your heart ache, but you would help him unpack it once you were both in the safety of your home.

Michael still made sound decisions, and not once did you feel the need to question his judgement. Jack was steadfast with you both, and you were grateful for him.

—

It was 10pm by the time the dust began to settle and the situation finally simmered to a more controllable level. You were beat and you had only been there a few hours, Michael encouraging you to take a seat and have some water while he checked on a handful of things. You took that moment to find Jake — who now had been stitched up and was with his mom.

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I really wish I could have met her.”

He nodded numbly, “You would’ve really liked her.”

A sad smile formed on your lips, “I’m sure I would have.”

You wanted to tell him to go easy on Robby, but the words did not form on your tongue. It was still too soon, and while you did not want Jake to blame him, you knew it wasn’t the time or place.

You parted from them sadly, before going to check on the med students and finally finding Michael with Jack.

It was a half hour later that you both finally left, Michael following you silently to your car. You were still digesting it all, wondering how the hell you were even going to begin processing it.

At home, you both quickly discarded your scrubs to the floor and made your way to the bathroom. It went unsaid that you both needed to wash this shift off, more so mentally than physically, but being clean would certainly make you feel better.

It was amazing how well you had learned to read each other, and you held onto him under the warm water for a long moment. He kissed the side of your head before grabbing the soap, sudsing up his hands and gently cleaning your skin. You relished in the feeling of him.

Once you rinsed off, you returned the favor. You moved your hands over his arms, his chest and then his back. You added a kiss here and there, knowing he enjoyed your touch just as much. He held your belly in his hands, eyes faraway again — but you brought your hand to his face to get his attention.

You kissed him, holding onto him and trying to translate all the things you felt into it. He returned the kiss and you felt yourself sigh in contentment.

It was quiet, but cathartic.

You both dried off, and changed before collapsing into your bed, Michael immediately pulling you close. You rested your head on his chest to listen to the calming sound of his heart.

Moving off his chest, you pulled him close to you and let him rest his head on you, his hand going to your belly. His breathing was slow and controlled, but you knew his mind was racing. You held him tight, your fingers going to his hair.

“I’d like to talk about today.” You said. “Not right now. Maybe not even tomorrow, or this week. But eventually.”

He was quiet, fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes on your stomach. “We can do that.”

“I’m here when you’re ready.” You told him.

He moved to press his lips to yours, peppering your face with kisses, before bringing you back to his chest. He held you for a long time and you did not even dare let go.

“I saw what it was.” He said.

“Oh?” You questioned against his chest, leaning your head back to look at him.

“Our baby.”

“Well don’t leave me in suspense.”

He grinned and kissed you deeply. Truth was, it didn’t matter. And as you held each other, you knew it was all going to be okay.

All Dr. Robby Content: @cherriready

I need to give him a hug

[sevsgiirl]

Omg okay I can't stop thinking about needy lovesick Sevika with a younger femme partner (you can totally do a continuation of the fic you wrote) so what if, she's a little needy&insecure for their age gap? That her girl gets bored/annoyed with her? (She doesn't have this type of thoughts all the time, but the seeds of doubts grows when she hears other people talk, not directly about her and reader, but in general but it does linger when others points out how different they are) or in her own way, she start craving more compliments, affections from her but dunno how to do it and at the same time she's trying to gauce if her girl still likes her (she does!!) yet just the thoughts/doubts hurts Sevika like so bad, because she would do anything for her darling, what she has to do to make her girl still love her and not leave her?

— sevika with a younger partner and feeling insecure

synopsis: sevika doesn’t have a type. whether they’re older or younger, just as long as they could keep up with her that’s all mattered. but ever since you two started dating, she starts to wonder if she’s the one who could keep up with you and how deep down, it scares her that you might find a problem with it eventually.

note: I just had to post this before going to sleep because the idea is too good. I love the way your brain works and again, thank you for sending in the req <3 love you and I hope you like this.

you were a beacon of light in the cesspool of chaos that is sevika’s life.

to this day, she still doesn’t understand how you and her got into a relationship but here you are now, going strong for almost a year and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

you two rarely get into arguments, when you did she never hesitates to reach out and fix the situation right away because she can’t stand being on bad terms with you for long.

you two are on the same mental wavelength, which sevika appreciates given how you’re a lot younger than her. she’s in her 40s and you were in 20s, but sometimes she forgets because conversations always run smoothly between you two.

but just because she forgets that doesn’t mean other people fail to bring it up.

when you started dating, it was a bit difficult given how it wasn’t received well by a lot of her peers. not that they judged her for it because they could never unless they wanted to have their face busted in. but it was the occasional remarks that had a hint of judgement in them that made sevika uncomfortable.

things such as “she’s a bit young, isn’t she? you better keep an eye on her especially because you’re always at work. it’s hard being in a relationship with someone who’s at a different stage in life as you.”

both of you had jobs but her work compared to yours was hectic. you work as a waitress at jericho’s meanwhile sevika is paid to get her hands dirty for silco. the job was tedious and draining and sometimes she comes home, tired to the bone that she could barely catch up with you. which she feels immensely guilty for.

you’ve reassured her that it isn’t a big deal and that you understand her status in zaun is far more important than yours. you’ve always acknowledged sevika’s role in the under city and why she was feared by many, that’s what attracted you to her in the first place. she was loyal, devoted and her endurance was insane.

but still, despite how sevika’s job is her number one priority, it still doesn’t slip her mind that she may accidentally neglect you and your needs without her knowing.

and she knows it takes a toll on you too, you just don’t want to bring it up because you respect her too much. and she was right because when she came home early one night you weren’t there, and it was almost midnight when you finally returned and you were shocked to see sevika sitting on your couch waiting for you. usually she’d be back around 2-3am.

“hey, you didn’t tell me silco would let you off the hook early,” you said but your words became background noise because she was too focused on your appearance. you were dressed up and from where she sat she could tell you’ve had a lot to drink.

it’s not that it upset sevika you went out, you could do whatever you want but it saddens her that you didn’t even go out of your way to tell her about it assuming she’d be coming home late. is this what you do when she’s not here? go out with your friends and have fun? it’s not that she expects you to wait for her in your apartment all day while she’s away for work.

still, the thought bothers her as she wonders what you must’ve been up to while she was gone. she tries to set the thought aside, not wanting to think bad of you because she knows you’d never go against her back. but certain thoughts crept up at the back of her mind. did you meet someone while you were out? were you offered drinks? did someone invite you out to dance?

“sev, baby, you there?” she didn’t even realize she zoned out until she felt you cupping her cheek “are you tired? you shouldn’t have stayed up for me.”

she shook her head “it’s alright. but yeah, silco let me off early and I wanted to surprise you.”

your shoulders sagged “I’m sorry. I assumed you’d come home late again so I decided to just go out with friends. had I known I would’ve waited so we can stay in and cuddle.”

despite your flattery words, the only thing that stuck to sevika was you implying she’d be late again. you didn’t mean it maliciously, there was no bitterness in your tone but instead there was just… acceptance. which frustrated her because people were right.

perhaps being at different stages in life does this. you needed a partner who you can home to and have fun with but instead you got her who’s always late, is already asleep when you probably want to stay up and have sex at night. she would force herself to push through just for you but she isn’t getting any younger and it shows.

maybe it’s because others have planted it in her head that you two are just far too different that’s why she’s overthinking like this, but it’s becoming more and more evident that they were right and if she doesn’t find a way to fix this, god knows before you start seeing the cracks and the dents as well.

and so in the following day she asked silco if she could cut off her usual hours at work to get back home early. at least for a few weeks and silco was shocked for a second because if there was anyone who’s extremely dedicated to their job, it’s her.

but it’s because of that he deliberates on the request “very well,” he answered “but if the matters are urgent I expect you to come in either way,”

well, it’s better than nothing, sevika thought. what matters is she’ll try to find some time to spend the following weeks with you and to hopefully regain the spark in your relationship.

not that she’s saying it’s lost but she’s scared it will. because if her days don’t consist of work, she’s either at the bar playing cards to blow off some steam, which isn’t exactly a productive way of spending one’s time.

unlike you, you have tons of friends who you go out with at clubs and sevika just doesn’t want to think about all the people you meet there, who are probably the same age as you, and have wanted to ask you out but you turned them down because of her.

meanwhile, she’s here and she can’t even keep you happy like how you deserve.

it eats her up alive that’s why as soon as she comes back from work a lot earlier than usual, she immediately engulfs you in a back hug when she sees you cooking in the kitchen.

you gasped, not expecting her “sev, you’re home.” you were surprised as you turned around “did something happen?”

she shook her head, smiling “no sweetheart, silco just let me off early again. plus I’ve been meaning to spend more time with my girl…”

you still weren’t used to the disruption of the routine, because she’s normally away at these hours, but you weren’t complaining.

and with that, you spent most of the evening cooking and catching up with each other. you didn’t miss the way sevika followed you around the house like a lost puppy when you started cleaning up to get ready for bed.

you raised an eyebrow when she wrapped her arms around your waist while you were washing the dishes, noticing how she’s awfully more needy than usual.

“baby, go rest. you just got back home from work.” you giggled and she just shook her head.

“I just want to spend more time with you. I feel like I haven’t been the best partner.”

that halted you in your tracks and you angled your head so you can face her “baby, what makes you think that?” your eyebrows were furrowed and she just held you tighter.

she lets out a breath, tired and awfully nervous about vocalizing her doubts. what if once she points it out you start seeing the red flags too? and then these affectionate gestures just won’t be enough? what then?

“I know with my job and the responsibilities I have, I haven’t been able to fulfill your needs. you have so much ahead of you and I’m always at work and I just don’t want to make it seem like I’m wasting your time.” she said and you just stood there, letting her words sink in.

“you’re young and you could be with someone whose head isn’t always stuck in a bunch of paperwork or is running around the lanes doing silco’s dirty work.” her jaw clenched and she starts to wonder if admitting to all of this was a good idea.

“I’m sorry, princess. I just don’t want to bore you by leaving you here at home all by yourself…”

you immediately swiveled around in her arms and took her face in your hands.

“sev, look at me.” you said, your voice stern “I could give less than two fucks about people my age. you think when I got into a relationship with you I didn’t know what I was signing myself up for? of course I did and I don’t regret any of it. I know you have responsibilities and I accepted all of your duties the moment you became mine.”

“I could never be bored of you, baby.” you told her, thumb caressing her cheek “you don’t treat me any differently because of my age so why should I? I love it that you’re so hard at work and that you provide for me. the fact my salary at jericho’s isn’t even enough to pay half of our rent but you don’t mind because you provide for us both, why would I find that boring? that’s fucking sexy.”

she couldn’t help but let out a snort “oh, so what you’re saying is that you’re staying with me because I’m basically your sugar mommy?”

you grinned “amongst other things,” you said before capturing her lips with your own.

the kiss was hot, heavy and slow as sevika gripped your hips and pulled you against her. pushing her knee up and sliding it across your thighs and she started rubbing against your clothed cunt, making you whimper.

“so you’re not bored of me? or mad?” she asked as she pulled away to look at you.

you rolled your eyes “you could be 23 or 75 for all I care and I still wouldn’t get bored of you.”

your finger drew circles around her chest as you fluttered your eyes up at her “plus you fuck me like you’re 23 anyway, so I don’t see why I would look for someone my age.”

she couldn’t help but laugh, swooping you up in her arms and you circled your legs around her waist as she walked you to your bedroom “god, you’re such a handful.” she said.

you smirked “but you love it.”

[femmeftal]

˖ ⁺ ✧ Punk tactics !

pairings ✧ : mohawk mark! x reader

warnings ✧ : breast fucking / tit job , groping, degrading, dirty talk ( sex scene is short n sloppy ) fem description.

normal! mohawk mark who is rebellious to his parents Debbie and Nolan, teaching his litter brother Oliver how to cause enough trouble just like him. even gifting Debbie with phone calls at his school reporting that he has gotten into another fight this weekend.

normal! mohawk mark who has some piercings on his face that he had done with a safety pin because his mom and dad wouldn’t allow him to, having at-least near 5 facial piercings ( including the tongue one )

normal! mohawk mark who ALSO has a secret tattoo right above his abdomen that has his initials in a gothic font, hot right? yea well it hurt a lot. bragging to his friends on how it’d be so easy to take a needle down there but nope he was wrong, and he got proven that.

normal! mohawk mark that hits on cute girls like you, naive and sassy. meeting you at one of his friends punk parties, you stood out the most. your clothing attire not even being comparable to these dweebs in the party. he had his share amount of girls and you were on of his favorites. . .

normal! mohawk mark that you cant help but to fall for, people telling you he isn’t the husband type but you could already tell. from the way he had grabbed onto your neck last night to sloppily kiss you told you everything you had to know. not like you didn’t enjoy it but you liked it just way too much.

normal! mohawk mark who invites himself into your house when your parents are gone knowing they’d throw a fit seeing a guy with facial piercings, muscular build, and a mohawk in their house heading to their daughters room. not like he’d care anyways he would still go up into your room while your parents were there.

normal! mohawk mark who caresses your ass while laying in your bed as if not a while ago he had promised he’d be good to you and no touching. he “ couldn’t help! “ it he claimed while giving you those bullshit puppy eyes he had always gave you when he has got into trouble with you.

normal! mohawk mark who’s boner is practically prodding at your ass when he swears up and down its not his dick and is just the remote. but you don’t remember the remote being 8 inches and that girthy, you try to believe him but it’s hard to when every time you shuffle you hear him shuddering or breath being caught in his throat.

normal! mohawk mark who can’t take it anymore violently pulling your blouse down revealing your tits.. which were pierced his eyes widened, this was love at first sight he had thought, a wide smile playing onto his face. “ who would’ve known “ he thought sitting on top of you as if he wasn’t already so big.

“ mmark.. be nice with them i just got them pierced two weeks ago! “ you protested your nipples hardened feeling the steel of his tongue piercings clacking against your nipple piercings. “ fuck, did they hurt baby? “ his words were long and sultry even the thought of the needle piercing through your nipples made him 10x harder! “ of course they did you dumbass.. “ you moaned the feeling of his rough hands squeezing onto the fat of your breasts was enough to send you into a frenzy. mark’s slobber was all on your tits it looked as if someone even poured some water onto your breasts and let it sit there, hearing the sound of cheap baggy jeans unzipping you looked down to see him starting to pull his boxers down “ mark you’re not tit fucking me! “ he was already was squishing you with his weight but no he didn’t want to listen cause he never does. his hard cock was pulsing at the sight of you, he looked like a fucking pervert too the way he wiped his drool from his mouth and smiled down at you “ youre so fucking hot babe.. cant believe i bagged a bad bitch like you “ he moaned out scooting his body further onto your torso to settle his cock between your tits “ you’ll let me nut all over this pretty face yea? “ you were so embarrassed, every word that came out his mouth made your pussy wet and pulse “ just hurry up mark.. if parents barge in i’ll be in big trouble “ grabbing onto your breasts and squishing them against his hard cock he threw his head back “ fuck your parents.. Shitt “ thrusting his member in between your tits that were still covered in saliva the sensation felt so fucking good to him “ mark you’re a pervert! “ he groaned even more the degrading throwing him off edge even more “ yea? im your dirty lil pervert mhmm.. “ speeding up the sensation he would drag your tits against his cock too the soft doughy feeling of your breasts had hypnotized him “ fuck m gonna.. shit let me cum baby pleasee “ his tip was practically red waiting to burst all over your breasts and face “ fine just.. clean m- “ he came immediately. a extremely loud groan emitted from mark making you even feel embarrassed for him, but you couldn’t focus on that.. the hot sticky substance that painted your face and breasts made you look like a pornstar some even getting onto your newly done lashes that you’d just payed for! “ mark!! “ his chest heaving he would crawl off of you “ dont think i’d let this pussy feel neglected and alone did ya? “

[dangerous-button]

I read Stone Butch Blues when it was first published. I was 18, just barely out, and a sophomore at a liberal arts women's college 45 minutes from my parents' house. That would've been... 1993? Yup. 1993.

The book fundamentally changed my understanding of... pretty much everything.

My great-grandparents were all working class. On my dad's side (his parents were cousins), they were farmers. On my mom's maternal side, they were European immigrants and union bricklayers. On her paternal side, Jewish immigrants. Her dad and his sister were raised by their mom, who was not, I believe, religious, and didn't raise them in the faith. She was a shopkeeper.

My grandparents' generation were college-educated (possibly except for my dad's mom). My dad's father was a math teacher and my mom's father, educated at Caltech, was a civil engineer. My mom's mother ran my grandfather's business, including a real estate office for a while.

Both my parents graduated from Stanford and taught English (my dad, who had a Ph.D., eventually went into corporate management to make more money).

So... I grew up surrounded by both the privileged world of aspirational academia and the, much more resonant for me, family stories about immigrant lives, trade unions, and beautiful craftsmanship.

I can do the academic thing, and do it well, but I have always preferred making things to studying them. I have always felt a bit out-of-sync with my family’s "evolution" towards increasingly academic pursuits. I like using my brain, but I like to keep my hands dirty while I do it.

Leslie Feinberg's writing became, for me, the first place where my own queerness and my identification with my family’s immigrant and working-class roots, made sense to me as parts of a single whole.

The summer after my junior year, I went through a directory I'd gotten my hands on of lesbians working in the arts, and sent out letters to those who seemed interesting, compatible, and far enough away from my childhood in California to let me try my hand at becoming something more than my parents' daughter. I asked for an apprenticeship.

As such things do, the end result wound up being... very different from what I'd imagined. I got a gig in New Hampshire helping a musician and her trans partner, who made their living busking on hammered dulcimer. I was meant to go live in a tent on their land, help with the straw bale house they were building, help babysit their 3 year old daughter, and join the busking on my harp. As it turns out, I have absolutely NO musical improvisation ability and had no clue what to do when there wasn't sheet music. The harp spent the summer in its case. Also turns out that my social anxiety made not having my own, completely private, space to retreat to unbearable. I wound up renting a tiny apartment in a nearby college town. And then... well, it turned out that the weather wasn't great for house building, and my girlfriend, spending the summer outside DC with her parents, was miserable, and so she came to join me, and...

Well. Before my girlfriend arrived, I did a lot of hiking and lake swimming, went to Boston Pride and cheered on my busking "bosses," joined them and their friends for a summer solstice ritual at which I was introduced to the concept of herbed butter and the back-breaking problems of invasive blackberry, and rode in their decomposing old subaru wagon (it's fascinating to warch the road go by through clusters of tiny, rusted out, salt-holes in the footwell) all the way to New York, specifically to hear Leslie Feinberg speak.

I was the most awestruck, hero-worshipping baby dyke imaginable, the youngest person in the room by at least a decade, and I still remember the sensation of blushing for *three hours.* Because. I was. In. The. Same. Room. As. Leslie. Feinberg.

That summer broke me wide open. It was the first time I ever felt like I, as an individual being, might hold power, make something that changed things, in the world.

That feeling, of urgent, hopeful agency, swells and recedes in my life, but I never experience it without thinking of Stone Butch Blues and of Leslie Feinberg. And yes, I still blush. Every damn time.

Happy (early) Nov 15th! Remember that Stone Butch Blues is free now and always to read here

Leslie was a communist, a butch lesbian, a nonbinary and transgender activist, and the person who made me who I am today. Consider checking out Stone Butch Blues if you haven’t already 😘 Do it for Leslie, and for hir surviving partner, Minnie Bruce Pratt 💕

[lynleaf]

how age regression has helped my relationship with food 💗🥪

tw / food (pos) / all of these things are things you can do while big, but this is my personal experience relating to agere! (pics are mine)

- making my meals cute has made eating more fun and engaging!

things like getting to play around with shapes when preparing fruits and veggies, adding in hearts and sprinkles to my meals, making faces and friends out of food has made eating so fun and less of a chore! also using cute plates, lunchboxes, and utensils!

- my food doesnt have to make sense to anyone but myself!

i am finding a lot of liberation in eating the weirdest food combinations without caring about it if seems weird or out of the norm! age regression has helped me be more carefree about my food choices!

- age regression has helped me remember new foods i used to like as a kid that i "grew out of" as i got older!

rediscovering kids meals and dishes that i used to love when i was bodily younger has gifted me with lovely nostalgia. and now that i'm bodily older, i can tweak the dishes with my own autonomy to make them fit my taste exactly! and there's no pressure to eat everything or to not ask for more! i can do what feels right to me.

- i'm not focused on what's healthy, but rather what makes me happy!

age regression has brought me so much joy when it comes to food. i love eating silly snacks, cute desserts, big meals, small meals, and just listening to my body! i'm able to buy all the snacks and food i wasn't able to eat when i was younger, and it feels so amazing to be able to give myself the childhood i didn't have.

[bambiihee]

5 or 10 with Hyunjin, whichever fits him more eeek >.< ALSO CONGRATULATIONS FOR 500 ♡♡♡♡♡♡

TONGUE TIED༚ ── h.hj

your new boyfriend eats you out for the first time.

▸ PAIRING༚ 황현진 x fem!reader ▸ WC༚ 1. 2 k ▸ GENRE༚ just straight filthy smut, some fluff, pwp ▸ WARNINGS༚ NSFW, MDNI! est. relationship, oral sex (f. rec), vaginal fingering, first time oral, munch!hyune, soft dom!hyunjin, dirty talk, praise kink, lots of pet names

[ note༚ ] part two of fifteen for my 500 followers event!

5. "No. I'm supposed to be making you feel good."

“R-really? Um... are you sure?” you mumble, hesitant and nervous, fighting the overwhelming urge to close your legs— you’re fairly sure you couldn’t anyway, even if you tried, with how roughly Hyunjin was gripping onto your thighs. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to—“

“I do want to.” he breathes against your skin, eyes blown out wide, irises darker than night, staring down at your bare pussy with a hunger you’ve never seen quite so intense before. Licking his lips as if he was craving your taste on his tongue. “Fuck, I want to so bad, baby, please, can I? I’ll make you feel so good, I promise…” 

The thumb that had been rubbing comforting circles into your inner thigh glides down to press gently at your clit— you keen, wet sticky folds fluttering, your thighs shuddering on either side of your boyfriend’s head. You were far from a virgin, but Hyunjin never failed to make you feel like one; in just the few short months you've been dating he's made you feel pleasure you didn’t think was possible, so unbelievably enthusiastic in giving it to you as good as he can… and when you had brought up that you had never been eaten out before, all of your exes’ repulsed by the idea, Hyunjin couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to introduce you to something new. 

He swore to you that eating pussy was one of his most favorite things in the world, but you weren’t quite sure if you believed him. It sounded ridiculous.

“Wh-what if I... don’t taste good, or something?” you cringe. To your horror, Hyunjin actually laughs, the sharp exhales of his breath fanning across your heated skin.  

“Oh, Babydoll... I’ve been wanting to get my mouth on you since I met you. Can’t believe no one’s ever ate this pretty pussy, it's so fuckin’ wet for me… you want my tongue, don’t you baby?” his thumb dips down lower, the pad of it teasing at your hole. Your pussy fluttered from the feeling, dribbling slick and so achingly empty, the barely-there pressure making you whine high in your throat. You’ve played this game before, your boyfriend ever so predictable— Hyunjin won’t give it to you until you ask him to, and you better ask him nicely.  

“Jinnie, please…” you whimper, resolve all but disintegrating when he shoots you a crooked grin and presses his index and middle finger up against your entrance.

“Please what, love?” your little hole started to open up around the pads of his fingers, not dipping in entirely quiet yet— it was nowhere near enough, the ghost of a stretch, teasing you with memories of his cock parting your walls…  

“Fuck, I... want your mouth, want your fingers— please, please, please!” 

“That's my good girl~” Hyunjin drawls, voice almost at a growl, and he dives in without warning— you’re assaulted with the feeling of his lips wrapping around your clit, his tongue sliding hot and heavy between your folds, long thick fingers diving into your cunt and curling against your sweet spot just right. You cry out sharply, toss your head back against the pillows, completely overwhelmed by all of the sensations; you can feel him smirking against your cunt. 

His fingers fuck into you nice and slow, filling you up so deep, pulling you towards the edge with practiced ease, the pleasure almost unbearable but in the most delicious way... a stark contrast to how harshly he sucked at your clit, pouty lips swollen and mouth hot and wet, ecstasy unlike anything you’ve felt before rolling through your body sharp like electricity, so so good it’s almost painful— you shriek when he changes angles, thrusts his fingers a little faster, a little harder, and you push hard at his head until he pulls off of your cunt. He seems to have some serious trouble getting your pussy out of his mouth.

“What’s the matter, doll? Don’t like it?” Hyunjin asks gently, handsome face flushed pink, his lips and chin wet with your arousal, his fingers still buried deep in your tight hole… you whimper at the sight of him, thick thighs still shaking from the aftershocks. 

“T-too much, Jinnie.” your pussy throbbed, clit pulsated, the knot in your belly tight— he coos, just condescending enough to make you clench around his fingers, and he presses a chaste, wet kiss to your inner thigh.    

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, I've got you— pussy tastes so fucking good, shit, can’t hold myself back..” he gently pulls his fingers out, watches in rapture at how your folds quiver and dribble slick, “You're doing so good, honey, just lie back and feel good~” 

“I... taste good?” you echo in a small voice. 

 “Mhm. Perfect lil cunt for me,” Hyunjin stares longingly at your twitching pussy like he misses it, huffing the deep breaths he denied himself when he was buried between your thighs. “Need you on my mouth again, taste so addicting, holy shit— I’ll be gentler this time baby, I promise, just gotta make you cum in my mouth. Please? Gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard, gotta taste it when you do—“

He dives back in again before you can stop him, pushing your thighs up roughly until they hit your chest; you've never felt this exposed before, every inch of your most intimate areas spread open for Hyunjin to see, touch, taste, worship. You can't hold back your surprised squeal when he shoves his tongue in your hole as deep as it could go, the sensation so alien but feeling better than you could have ever even imagine. He eats you like a starved animal, tongue and lips everywhere all at once, grunting and groaning into your heat like he was the one receiving pleasure and not you-- the wet smacking noises makes your face burn, so filthy and obscene you could hardly stand hearing it, but your cunt throbs and pulsates as if it was begging for more, more, more.

Hyunjin gives it to you. He gives you everything, his fuzzy buzz cut tickling the insides of your thighs and adding to the growing fire in your belly.

Focusing so hard on your hole, your little swollen clit feels neglected-- it's the extra spark of pleasure you need to reach your climax, so close but so far away, and you find yourself reaching down before you even realize you were moving.

Hyunjin catches you instantly, siren eyes locking up onto yours before he grabs your wrist in an iron grip, tugging your hand away sharply without ever once disconnecting himself from your pussy. "Nuh-uh. Greedy girl." he chides, barely understandable with his mouth full, tongue sliding out of your hole to lick broad stripes between your folds. "I'm supposed to be the one making you feel good, remember? Keep those hands up where I can see them."

He releases your wrist for you to tangle your fingers back into the bedsheets, arms limp at your sides-- you're rewarded with a harsh suck to your clit, Hyunjin's teeth grazing over your engorged nub just enough to make you jolt.

You whimper, fucked out, confused, and a little surprised; Hyunjin hardly ever acts like this, so controlling, so focused on pleasuring you that he just wants you to stay still and take it. Maybe he does like eating pussy as much as he says he does.

[ateezscupid]

─── BIG BAD WOLF ♡

SUMMARY / You find yourself face to face with a touch-starved, heat ridden werewolf.

warnings ✩ PORN LINK, SMUT W/ NO PLOT, a sprinkle of fluff with a dash of comedy, switch sub leaning!san, switch fem!reader, san is a werewolf and reader is a werebunny, fantasy au, size difference (san is HUGE compared to reader), san is in heat, unprotected sex, literally just rough and raw, "fur" is referring to his body hair!!

word count ✩ 2,51k

tags ✩@desirehorizon @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @lezleeferguson-120 @hwallazia @ddeongmatz

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST

You trotted through the woods, your soft bunny ears perked up as you listened for any signs of danger. Your whiskers twitched in the gentle evening breeze, and you took a moment to appreciate the warmth of the setting sun on your fur. You normally took fun little walks like this as a way to unwind.

You knelt down in front of a patch of wild berries, your nose quivering as you decided which ones to pick. The sweet scent of the berries filled your nostrils, making your mouth water. As you reached out with your tiny paws, a sudden rustling in the bushes behind you made you freeze.

You turned and saw…nothing. Was it your imagination? Were you finally going crazy? You took a deep breath and turned back around to the berries, trying to convince yourself that you were just being paranoid. But as you began to pick them, the rustling grew louder, closer. You dropped the berries and jumped to your feet, ready to bolt.

Out of the shadows emerged a creature, and not just any creature - a werewolf, massive and terrifying. You recognized him immediately. It was San, from the neighboring village. He was known to be a solitary creature, but he looked more desperate than you had ever seen. His fur was matted with sweat, his eyes wild with a hunger that made your heart race.

"You smell amazing." he breathed out, his voice low and gruff, not quite the melodic tenor you heard him sing in the village square. San took a step closer, and you felt the heat radiating from his body, almost like a furnace.

"What-" you began to stutter, but San was already on his knees, his nose sniffing the air as if he was trying to inhale every atom of your scent. You took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest. "San, what are you-"

"Please." San's voice was strained, the word barely a whisper. His eyes had turned a fiery amber, and his pupils were dilated with need. You could see the internal struggle playing out across his furry features as his wolf instincts warred with his humanity. "I need…I need to touch you."

"Why? Are you okay?" You asked, your voice quivering, as you took another step back, trying to maintain the distance between you. San's eyes remained locked on yours, his breaths coming in ragged pants.

"It's my heat." He explained, his words strained as if the very act of speaking was a battle. "I… I haven't found anyone to ease the change. My pack… they left me." His gaze dropped to the ground, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Did they leave you? Seriously?" You felt a twinge of pity for the poor werewolf. You'd heard about werewolf heats before, how intense and painful they could be. It was a biological necessity for them to find someone to ease the transition, and if they didn't, they could go mad from the pain.

"Well," he gulped. "I mean, I annoyed them a lot before they left. But still, it's not their responsibility to deal with me when I'm like this." His words were filled with a mix of embarrassment and pain. You could see his desperation growing with every second that passed, and despite your fear, you couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for him.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You were a werebunny, known for your gentle and nurturing nature. It was in your instincts to help others, especially those in pain. "Okay," you whispered, your voice quivering. "What do you need?"

San looked up at you, his eyes pleading. "Just…just touch. Anywhere. It'll help with the pain." His voice was raw with need. You cautiously stepped closer, your hands shaking slightly as you reached out to touch his ears. It was coarse and hot to the touch, but as your hand made contact, you felt the tension in his body ease slightly.

"Can I be inside of you?" San asked, his voice a desperate growl. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your knees feel weak.

You took another step back, your heart racing. "Inside of me? Like…mating?" The very thought made your stomach flip. You weren't quite ready for that. San's face fell, his desperation palpable.

"I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, his voice a mix of embarrassment and pain. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just need…someone to be with me." He looked away, his ears drooping with defeat.

You chewed on your bottom lip, considering your options. The thought of mating with San was overwhelming, but you could tell he was in agony. Plus, the bond between a werebunny and a werewolf during heat was known to be incredibly strong. It wasn't something to be taken lightly, but you didn't want to leave him to suffer.

"San," you began tentatively, "I can't… w-what'll happen if you claim me? Or if you come inside of me? What if-"

"Please. I-It's just for my heat. It won't be a full bond. I promise," San begged, his voice hoarse with pain. His eyes searched yours for any sign of understanding. You felt torn, but the sight of him in such distress was more than you could bear. You took a deep breath and nodded, your body trembling as you made your decision.

"Really?" San's eyes lit up with hope, the desperation in his voice subsiding slightly. You nodded again, taking another step closer.

"Just be gentle." You whispered, your voice shaking as you allowed San to approach you. His movements were deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped closer. You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin as he leaned in, his massive hands reaching out to touch you with a tenderness that belied his size.

And within seconds, he had you laying on your back on the ground, your dress pulled up and his hot, rough hands on your bare thighs. San's touch was surprisingly gentle, his fur brushing against your skin like a warm, living blanket. You felt the heat from his body envelop you like a fiery embrace. His eyes searched yours for consent, and you gave it with a shaky nod.

He struggled to remove his pants, and soon just decided to push them down a little. He pushed your panties to the side and lined himself up with your entrance. He was so large that you could feel him touching you everywhere. He slid in slow, inch by inch, stretching you to your limits. You gasped as he pushed through your barrier, the pain briefly overwhelming before it subsided into a warm, pulsing ache.

"Oh fuck-" you whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut as San's thick, hot cock filled you completely. Your body stretched around him, adjusting to his size, and you felt your insides clench around him. San stilled, his eyes shut tight and his hands gripping you like crazy.

"S-San-?" you squeak out his name and he doesn't respond. "San, are you-"

"I'm gonna come," San grunted, his eyes snapping open, the amber in them burning like molten metal. His grip on your thighs tightened, his claws digging into your skin just enough to make you gasp. "I can't hold it back."

"It's okay, just-" you gulp, sitting yourself up on your elbows. "For as long as you need."

San's eyes widened slightly before a pained expression flashed across his face, his teeth bared in a grimace. He began to move, his hips rocking into yours with a force that made the ground beneath you tremble. You felt every inch of his massive cock as he claimed you, filling you so completely that it was almost too much. But as the initial shock wore off, you felt yourself begin to respond, your own body reacting to his primal need.

"S-Shit you're so good, y-you feel so good," he gasped out, his hips stuttering as he was already approaching his orgasm. "G-Gonna fill you up,"

You nodded, your eyes wide as you felt the pressure building within him, his movements becoming more erratic. His skin was sticky with sweat, and you could feel his heart pounding through his chest. You reached up and touched his face, feeling surprisingly soft under your fingertips.

"You gonna come?" you smile a bit despite the overwhelming situation, your voice barely a whisper. San's eyes flicker with surprise before he nods, his movements growing more frantic.

"I'm s-so close," he groaned. Unexpectedly, he slowed down, emptying his load much faster that he thought he would, his groans turning into whimpers as he filled you up. The warmth of his seed spilling into you was almost comforting.

"You need more?" you asked, your fingers gently caressing the skin of his cheek. San's eyes fluttered open, the amber fire in them dimming to a soft glow as he looked down at you. All he did in response was lay down on top of you, placing his hand underneath your head and beginning to move his hips again.

"Y-You feel amazing," San murmured, his voice strained with pleasure as he began to move inside you again. His body was like a warm cocoon, and the weight pressing down on yours was surprisingly comforting. He was so much bigger than you, but he was careful not to crush you, his movements gentle and tender.

"G-Gonna give you pretty pups." you knew he was babbling at this point, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his climax, but his cock remained hard. You felt a thrill at his words, a mix of excitement and fear. San's eyes searched yours for a reaction, and you could see the vulnerability hidden beneath his wolfish exterior.

"Please can I," he even played with your ears, his hips moving faster. "P-Please, I need-- I-I need to-" San's breath was hot against your neck as he nuzzled closer, his teeth grazing your skin lightly. The gentle sting sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, your own body responding to his need.

You felt him swell even larger inside you, the pressure building as he approached his climax again. His fur was slick with sweat, and your own body was flushed with heat. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as you met his rhythm with your own. His claws dug into the earth beside you, his growls turning into desperate moans.

"Gonna fill you up, give you pups," he heaved out, breaths ragged against your skin. "Y-You're gonna look so pretty all full."

Your eyes widened at the thought, your body responding to the primal need in his voice. The heat inside you grew, and you found yourself matching his rhythm, hips rising to meet his. The idea of being filled with San's pups was strange, but something deep inside you stirred with a want that was unmistakable.

You could feel his knot beginning to swell, and the sensation was overwhelming. You've heard about werewolf knots before, how they lock into their mates during heat, but feeling it was an entirely different experience. You bit your lip, trying to keep the whimpers of pleasure from escaping.

"S-San, fuck, please," you whimper. "I-I need it," your voice is high and needy. You could feel your own orgasm approaching, your walls clenching around his thick cock, your tail wiggling underneath you. San's movements grew more erratic, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to hold on.

"C-Come for me," he urged, his teeth grazing your earlobe. The sensation sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry that echoed through the woods, you climaxed, your body shuddering beneath his as waves of pleasure washed over you. San's knot grew larger, pressing against your insides until it was all you could feel.

The pain was intense, but it was quickly overshadowed by the heat of his seed filling you up, his knot locking you together. You could feel him pulsing inside of you, his orgasm lasting what felt like an eternity. His weight grew heavier, his breaths coming in short gasps as he emptied himself into you completely. The bond grew stronger with each beat of his heart, each pulse of his cock.

"San," you panted, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes snapped open, and he looked down at you with a mix of shock and wonder. The reality of what had just happened washed over both of you, and you could see the realization in his gaze. He had claimed you without a full bond.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, his voice filled with concern, his gentle touch at odds with his powerful form.

"N-No, no I'm fine." You assured him, your voice still shaky with pleasure. The knot was definitely uncomfortable, but the intimacy of the moment was too overwhelming to focus on the pain. "It's just… it's a lot to take in."

San nodded, his expression filled with a mix of relief and regret. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over your face. "But your scent was just… I couldn't resist."

"Really? I didn't even shower this morning…" You replied with a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood. San chuckled, his nose still buried in your neck.

"It's not just your scent," he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. "It's your warmth, your softness. I want you for every heat." His words were a gentle caress against your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine.

"Every heat?" You whispered back, your voice trembling. The thought of being with San, in this way, for the rest of your life was a lot to take in. But as you felt his knot slowly shrinking, and his cock still lodged inside you, you realized that the bond was already forming. It was a mix of fear and excitement that coursed through your veins.

San pulled away slightly, his gaze searching yours for any signs of regret. "If you don't want me to, I won't," he murmured, his voice filled with a vulnerability that seemed impossible for such a powerful creature. You took a moment to consider your answer, feeling the warmth of his seed still inside you, the ache of his knot.

But there was something in his eyes, a desperation that went beyond just the physical need. It was a connection that you hadn't felt before, a bond that was more than just skin deep. And despite the fear and the unknown, you found yourself nodding. "I… I want you, San." The words slipped out before you could second guess them.

San's eyes lit up, his smile genuine and filled with relief. He leaned down and kissed you, his lips rough but tender against yours. It was a kiss filled with passion and promise, a seal to the unspoken agreement that had just been made. His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting and exploring as his cock remained lodged inside of you.

[jean47mclean]

I don't think it's niche by any means but I've ALWAYS wanted to write a Marching Band AU because man I suffered too much for 4 years to not make my comfort characters suffer either.

Been thinking about it here and there but I was in Color Guard so I'm not as familiar with their instruments lol

I would say for JJK though I've thought quite a lot about it. And yes I know this is an American thing but whatever.

Really wanna make Shoko, Gojo, Geto, Utahime, Haibara, and Nanami the seniors to the other student's sophomores + freshman. I'm thinking Yaga as band director

As for where they'd all go...

From what I know about band kids *cough* the rest of my family *cough* I'll try my best

Gojo: trumpet. I've heard all trumpets have HUGE egos. Any more to explain for that?

Shoko: percussion. They're all chill. Kinda knew everyone but also kept to theirselves a lot. If I didn't make her a student she'd for sure be one of the med tent people (shout out to the med tent people they literally keep the band afloat)

Geto: oboe. This one's a little harder for me to explain, but canonically he's just as exceptional and skilled as Gojo but more overlooked just because Gojo has two super special techniques. To be an oboe player, you have to be pretty dedicated to your instrument and good at it. The same isn't said for trumpet but I think Gojo also plays Oboe in class, just prefers trumpet while marching

Utahime: tuba. My sister actually plays tuba, and they're very important to the band. They're often very overlooked, but their written parts are integral to the overall music. Also according to my sister the tubas and trumpets have some beef so... yeah

Haibara: clarinet. Almost every single clarinet player I know is extremely friendly, talkative, and outgoing. It's not a necessarily hard instrument and it's often one of the most popular, but they're very social people. I think he'd be a great section leader :')

Nanami: trombone. Many of the trombone players I've met are very level headed people. They know what they want out of life and keep to themselves for the most part. I have personal beef with them but we aren't gonna get into that. Otherwise it just felt like the one that fit the most for someone as collected as him

Kusakabe: I'm actually gonna go an interesting path here so stay with me. We're gonna make him one year older and have him coach the Color Guard. As a CG graduate my section was pretty self-reliant, we didn't really need our coach that much. As soon as we had our choreography it was pretty much up to the captains to organize and lead sectionals, and I think Kusukabe's lazy bum would be more than cool with that. He'd be killer with the rifle and saber tossing, probably made it to nationals or something if he competed

(Side note but Mei Mei shouldn't be allowed in Marching Band for obvious reasons)

Megumi: flue. There's two types of flutes, and Megumi falls into the first category. He's pretty quiet and reserved, but insanely talented. Pretty reflective in nature and seems to know everyone more by coincidence than by choice. Level headed, precise, and only steps in when necessary

Yuuji: bass drum. Drumlime is super team reliant, everyone needs to know their part and they have a LOT of extra hours poured into their section, but it's very rewarding to them. They're obviously some, if not, the most important people to the band in general. I think he'd be too confused with the tenor drums (cuz there's like 5 or 6 of them) and the snare just seems to tiny for him. I think he'd like that it kinda feels and sounds like a heartbeat

Nobara: saxophone. My dad's main instrument is saxophone and oh boy. I can't really imagine my girl playing anything else. They're slightly self-absorbed and are extremely argumentative people, but they sound really good if played well

Kirara: majorette. It's a time-comitment for SURE, and even though they come off as kinda pompous people it's just because they HAVE to know what they're doing and being aware of each other. I've also kinda related their batons to twinkling stars if thrown high and fast enough, which is really cool. I've also found that the majorettes often felt like they had really strict rules that sucked and I dunno. Felt very Kirara coded lol

Hakari: trombone. I'm combining the two opposing trombone personalities I've interacted with. Some other trombone players I knew were self-absorbed, a little too horny, brash, and typically uninterested. They had their silver linings, but all in all not the type of people you'd really wanna befriend

Yuuta: mellophone. Purely because french horn is his main in class instrument and you have to be incredibly talented to sound good on the french horn. Mellophone/french horn players are often friendly but reserved. Nice to everyone but has a close knit friendgroup. Also apparently french horns often get very "melancholic tunes" in music

Toge: clarinet. Lots of clarinet players are jokesters, class clowns, memers, etc. I feel like the sections would learn JSL just for him and eventually almost the entire MB does just because like. Yeah clarinets have one of the two hugest sections of the entire MB and they're pretty peaceful people

Maki: color guard! Mostly because I relate her use in weapons instead of techniques as similar to the use of flags, rifles, and sabers instead of instruments. She'd 100% switch between rifle and saber, and would despise using the flags. Less personality based with this one, but you can't tell me she wouldn't itch to throw a saber or rifle instead of playing an instrument

Panda (yes I'm including him): snare drum. We're going with mostly the comedy of this huge tall guy, like 6'4 or 6'5 guy playing the tiny drum of all things. People are constantly wondering why he doesn't play bass and he plays snare purely because it's funny and he has a good time in drumeline

Todo: tenor drums. You need to be soooooooo friggin talented to play these drums man AND very fast. I swear I can't even see the stick moving sometimes when they play. Takes a lot of self control, knowing the beat, and being firm in what you do to play well. I think these suit Todo extremely well

Momo: piccolo. ugh I feel like she'd play piccolo because wind instrument and flying lol. But also I knew quite a few stuck up and rude piccolo players so yeah

Mai: color guard but flags and rifles. She's always so upset that Maki is better than her at rifle even though she's been practicing it for longer than Maki has. She doesn't touch sabers though the balance just feels too off, and since Maki doesn't like flags Mai is great knowing she's good at something Maki isn't

Miwa: color guard. I feel like this kinda goes without saying, but between the saber, Kusakabe being the coach, and giving most sword users a position in CG, it just fits too well. This one however is more based on personality, because everyone in my section was very kind and respectful to each other. She'd probably also do flags but she could totally do saber as well and be pretty good at it

Kokichi: tuba. It's a pretty hefty instrument, they're seriously no joke. Be a cool contrast to how in this universe he can play the heaviest instrument compared to his crippled body in the JJKverse. This is also the time whereI should mention that Utahime and Kokichi are kinda similar in terms of personality and I feel like they get along well

Tsumiki (guess you weren't expecting her): clarinet. Just read previous clarinet personality descriptions and I think you'd get why I put her here

Okay it's 3 am and I'm tired. Might make a part 2 of this or something later but hopefully someone out there enjoyed reading this. Would Be very interested to hear opinions and other instrument choices 👀 talk marching band to me lol

if you have a niche sport/job/hobby it’s your sacred duty to make the most specific incomprehensible AUs with the characters you like. no more coffeeshop aus no more college aus you have to put those guys in a microbial lab. your fave is a high school english teacher. that show is about bowling now sorry. THIS IS MANDATORY!!!

[valeisaslut]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. five

credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐘𝐎𝐔.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑟 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑥 →

⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: The biggest night of the year. The Grammys. Cameras flash, reporters push for answers, and the world holds its breath as you and Ellie step onto the red carpet—together. But the night doesn’t end there. Somewhere between the champagne, the piled-up tension, and the magnetic pull drawing you closer, the inevitable finally happens. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 19,4k 𖥔 ݁ ˖ (i swear its worth it pls read😩)

⭒ content: smut, fluff, LOTS of tension, switch!ellie, switch! reader, strap-on sex (r!receiving), oral sex (ellie!receiving), praise, pet names, modern au, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, cursing, violence, afab!reader, MEN AND MINORS DNI, multiple part series, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

You took another breath. Then another.

It didn't help.

The mirror reflected back a version of you that barely felt you.

Hair sculpted to perfection—every strand smoothed, intentional, calculated. The makeup was flawless, airbrushed into looking almost surreal, every sharp line and soft curve enhanced just enough to look effortless.

But it wasn’t effortless. None of this was. It had taken hours. Layers of foundation, contour, highlight, hairspray, a meticulous blend of artistry and illusion. The kind of beauty designed to be captured in flashing lights, immortalized in high definition, scrutinized by millions.

You looked unreal. A vision. A spectacle crafted for the cameras.

And then, there was the dress.

It hung in the corner of the suite like an omen, untouched and shimmering under the golden glow of the vanity bulbs. Versace, custom-made, one of one. It was breathtaking—cinched at the waist, sculpting you like you’d stepped out of some dream, the fabric cascading like liquid metal. The kind of dress that would be studied, analyzed, labeled as iconic before the night was even over.

Because tonight wasn’t just a night.

Tonight was the night.

The moment you had fought for, bled for, lost sleep over.

Your first Grammys. Your first time stepping onto the biggest stage of your career, standing shoulder to shoulder with legends, breathing the same air as the voices you grew up idolizing.

And you weren’t just attending—you were nominated.

Five times.

Best New Artist. Best Pop Vocal Album. Record of the Year. Song of the Year. And the one that had made your hands tremble when you first saw the announcement—

Best Duo/Group Performance.

For She.

Your breath hitched just thinking about it. Thinking about how that song—the one you weren’t even sure if you wanted to record—had exploded into something bigger than either of you had ever anticipated.

And now, the Grammys were acknowledging it. The industry was acknowledging it.

But surprisingly, the thing that had you trembling with anxiety the most wasn't that.

No.

It was Ellie.

Ellie, standing next to you. Watching. Listening. Performing. Feeling.

Because Ellie wasn’t just Ellie.

She wasn’t just your fake girlfriend. She wasn’t just your partner in this beautifully reckless, industry-shattering lie the two of you had built.

She was Ellie.

And you were in love with her.

The kind of love that settled deep, burrowed under your ribs and made a home there, quiet and aching. The kind of love that swallowed you whole when she so much as looked at you.

And worst of all? It was one-sided.

The realization hit like a gut punch, sharp and breath-stealing, even though it had already settled into your bones weeks ago. Maybe longer. Maybe you had always known, in some small, unspoken way.

But knowing didn’t mean accepting. And accepting didn’t make it any easier.

This was it—the first official public appearance. The moment that would cement everything. The final nail in the coffin. The inescapable, undeniable proof of your relationship.

Your fake relationship.

Your hands clenched against the vanity, perfectly fresh manicured nails pressing into the polished wood as if anchoring yourself.

You had never been more terrified in your life.

"Breathe," Rachel’s voice cut through your quiet chaos, unimpressed but not unkind. "You’re gripping that vanity like it personally offended your family."

You forced yourself to loosen your grip. Barely.

She sighed, tossing her phone onto the couch. "Alright, what’s going on in that scary little brain of yours?"

"I think I’m gonna pass out."

"Please don’t. At least not before the performance." She grinned, poking your arm. "Want me to slap you?"

"Not helpful."

Rachel ignored that, gesturing towards the dress"You do realize Ellie’s about to see you in that, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Totally forgot, thanks."

"Like, in less than an hour, she’s gonna turn her stupid little rockstar head and see you. In that dress. And she’s gonna fucking die."

Your heart pounded. Because Ellie wasn’t subtle. She never had been.

Rachel smirked. "I told you this would happen."

"What?"

"You. Her. This absolute circus you two created." She grinned. "You were always gonna take over the industry."

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

"You should be thanking me. I manifested this."

You groaned. "This is so fucking stupid."

"No, what’s stupid is you acting like it wasn’t inevitable."

You glared. "Still not helping."

"I’m just saying! If it were me about to own the night, win a bunch of Grammys, looking like the hottest person in the room, performing next to the girl I was secretly in love with—"

"Rachel."

"—I’d be excited. Not terrified."

"Well, but that's certainly not my case. I'm fucking terrified."

Rachel ignored that. Instead, she wandered over to the dress, brushing her fingers over the fabric like it was something sacred. Her expression softened. “You don’t even see it, do you?”

You frowned. “See what?”

She turned back to you, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “You’ve already won.”

Your stomach flipped. “What are you talking about?”

“The headlines. The industry. The world.” She paused. “Ellie.”

Your breath caught.

Rachel took a step closer. "Tonight isn’t just about the Grammys. It’s about you. About how you’re standing at the top of the fucking world, and no one can touch you."

She grinned, eyes sharp, like she was reading your future. “And you know what’s even crazier?”

“…What?”

“You’re not even at your peak yet.”

Your pulse stuttered.

Rachel winked, stepping back with a satisfied smirk. “Now put the damn dress on. You have history to make.”

Ellie Williams was going to die.

Not from anxiety. Not from the pressure of attending the biggest music event of the year. Not even from the seven Grammy nominations under her belt.

She was going to die because Dina wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

“Bro, you’re actually panicking.”

Ellie shot a glare at her, who was sprawled across the hotel couch like she didn’t have a single worry in the world. Meanwhile, she had spent the last hour pacing the length of the suite like a lunatic.

"For god's fucking sake Dina, I’m not fucking panicking!" Ellie snapped, running a hand through her hair before immediately regretting it, because of course her stylist had spent forty goddamn minutes making it look effortlessly messy instead of actually messy.

"Then why do you look like you’re about to projectile vomit?" Dina didn’t even glance up from her phone. "And don’t you dare raise your damn tone at me."

Ellie exhaled sharply, trying to calm herself down before speaking again. "I’m fine."

Dina finally looked at her, unimpressed. "Yeah. You sound real convincing."

Jesse, who had been watching the whole thing unfold from the armchair, finally sighed and set down his drink. “Dude. You haven’t even put your suit on yet.”

Ellie froze.

She looked towards the garment bag hanging by the closet. It was just sitting there, taunting her. The custom Dior was nothing short of perfect—sharp, impossibly tailored, stupidly expensive. Designed to make her look like she belonged. Like she owned the room before even stepping into it.

She hadn’t touched it. She hadn’t even unzipped the damn thing.

Jesse smirked. “You’re scared of the suit.”

She scowled. “I’m not scared of a suit.”

“You’re definitely scared of the suit.”

Dina whistled lowly, shaking her head. “Damn, didn’t realize fake-dating the hottest pop star on the planet was so hard.”

Ellie threw her a look. “Eat shit.”

“Els, I’m thriving. I'm attending the fucking Grammys. You’re the only one spiraling here.”

Ellie threw her arms up. “I hate both of you.”

Jesse clapped his hands together. “Sick. Now, put on the damn suit. Your girlfriend is waiting.”

Ellie’s entire body locked up.

Because that was the part that completely shattered whatever fragile grip she had on reality.

It was fake. The relationship was fake. But none of that mattered when she had to step out there—stand next to you, sit next to you, perform with you—while the entire world watched.

And the worst part?

She wanted it.

Wanted the cameras, the flashing lights, the screaming fans—to not be watching some carefully curated story, but something real.

But that wasn’t the deal.

Yeah.

She had never been more terrified in her life.

The elevator doors open.

And the air inside the lobby shifts.

Not just a slight change, not just a ripple—but a full, undeniable shift, like something unseen had just taken a deep breath and held it. The static hum of conversation, the controlled chaos of stylists, assistants, managers screaming into phones—it all dulled in an instant.

The cause? Ellie stepped out of the elevator.

And fuck—there was no preparing for that.

Rachel’s fingers tightened around your wrist, her breath catching. Jesse’s quiet holy shit barely registered, lost under the way the world seemed to still. Dina, for once in her life, was silent. And you—

You just froze.

The black Dior suit was a masterpiece—razor-sharp in its tailoring, draped over her lean frame like it had been stitched onto her skin. The blazer hung open just enough to catch the glint of a silver chain resting against her collarbone, a teasing flicker of warmth against the crisp fabric. Ink curled along her forearms, peeking through the rolled-up sleeves—an effortless rebellion against the suit’s precision, a contrast so sharp it sent a pulse straight through you.

Ellie carried it the way only she could—shoulders back, hands in her pockets, that faraway look in her eyes. A quiet storm wrapped in nonchalance, as if she wasn’t setting the entire room off its axis just by standing there. As if she didn’t look like she belonged on a goddamn movie screen.

But it wasn’t just the suit. It wasn’t even how she wore it. It was her.

The way her hair fell in perfect disarray, strands slipping messily over sharp cheekbones. The way the warm glow of the hotel lights cut shadows along her jaw, sculpting it almost criminally sharp. The way she walked—unbothered, gaze cast downwards, completely unaware of what she was doing to the room.

And then she looked up.

And saw you.

Ellie Williams—gritty, untouchable, rockstar Ellie Williams—stopped mid-step. The air around her shifted, something flickering behind her eyes, breaking.

And suddenly, she wasn’t a rockstar. Wasn’t untouchable.

She was just a girl.

The elevator shut behind her, but she didn’t move, didn’t speak, barely even breathed. Her gaze locked onto you like she had just walked into a wall.

Her gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, like a match dragged against phosphorus. She traced every detail—the way the fabric hugged your curves, the daring slit that teased against your thigh, the way the shimmer caught the light and set you glowing. She looked at you like she was trying to commit you to memory, like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to stare so much but was powerless to stop.

You finally decided to make the first move, taking a single step forward.

“Hey there, rockstar...” Your voice calm and measured, carefully testing the waters between you as you tilted your head. “Took you long enough.”

It was a bullet, hitting its mark with perfect precision.

Ellie blinked, lips parting slightly, like she had just been yanked out of a daze.

Jesse, amused as ever, let out a sharp laugh. “Oh my god! Say something Williams!”

Ellie dragged a hand down her face, muttering under her breath, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

She inhaled sharply, rolled her shoulders back, and just like that—the hesitation was gone. Whatever flicker of vulnerability had been there vanished in a second, smothered under that signature grin that sent the industry into a tailspin every time she flashed it.

She stepped forward, erasing the last of space between you in a few strides, her voice dropping lower.

“Damn... and here I thought I was supposed to be the showstopper.”

It landed deep in your chest, twisting something warm and volatile inside you. Your smirk faltered—just a fraction, just enough.

Her gaze flickered downward, briefly, catching the quick rise and fall of your chest before she looked back up, smirking like she had already won.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, fighting the way your stomach twisted, fighting the way her voice curled around your ribs and settled there, heavy and unfair. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Ellie leaned in just a little, enough that her scent—expensive, strong, devastating—wrapped around you like a second skin. Her voice dropped impossibly lower, just for you.

“You started it.”

Rachel, always the voice of reason, groaned loudly, shattering the moment like glass.

“Jesus Christ, can you two save the eye-fucking for later? We’re on a schedule.”

You blinked, stepping back as if physically reminded that there were other people in the room. Ellie exhaled, running a hand through her hair, her expression neutral but her pupils still blown wide, still telling.

Dina, meanwhile, looked utterly feral as she whispered to Jesse. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

You turned to Ellie, lifting an eyebrow, your voice smooth despite the warmth still buzzing beneath your skin. “You ready?”

She exhaled, flexing her fingers, shaking out her shoulders, grinning like she already knew exactly how the night was going to end.

“Let’s give ‘em a show.”

The limousine slowed to a crawl, and suddenly, the flashes of cameras outside the tinted windows became relentless—bright bursts of white light searing through the darkness.

You could hear them, muffled yet frantic, a chaotic symphony of voices and shutter clicks all bleeding together into one deafening roar. Your stomach twisted in response.

This was it.

Ellie inhaled deeply beside you, rolling her shoulders back one last time, exhaling slow as she turned her head towards you.

"You ready?"

Your breath came out unsteady. You swallowed once. Twice.

"No."

She grinned. Not the sharp, cocky grin she usually wore in front of cameras, but something quieter, something just for you. She leaned in—too close, her breath warm where it brushed against your jaw, sending a sharp thrill down your spine.

"Relax, babe" she murmured, voice soft. "I’ve got you."

The door swung open abruptly before you could even process her words.

The second an inch of your face was visible, the screams hit like a tidal wave, piercing and relentless. The flashing lights turned into a blinding, disorienting storm, a sea of white-hot bursts swallowing every movement. And in the middle of it all—you, suddenly the center of the universe.

Your designer heels met the pavement as you stand up. A mess of voices crashed over you all at once, a frantic mix of admiration and desperation.

"Over here! Look this way!"

"Who are you wearing tonight?!"

"Are you and Ellie actually dating?!"

As if summoned by that last question, Ellie stepped out behind you.

And everyone present officially lost. their. minds.

You didn’t need to turn to know the effect you both were having. You felt it. The sharp inhale of breath from fans pressed against the barricades, the stunned pause before the photographers remembered to press the shutter. The slight tremor in the reporters' voices as they called your names, eager and breathless. Desperate.

Desperate to capture you. Desperate to capture her.

Desperate to capture both of you arriving together.

The second Ellie stepped forward to pose beside you, the volume spiked—voices climbing over each other, cameras firing in rapid succession, flashes intensifying like lightning in a summer storm, rapid-fire.

You shifted, tilting your chin just right, your body angled perfectly for the cameras, letting the dress do half the work. The slit caught the light, the fabric clung in all the right places, and you heard the reactions—sharp whistles, murmured damns, the rapid clicking of shutters as they tried to capture every second.

Ellie leaned in, fingers pressing firmly against your waist, the space between you reduced to a breath. The cameras flashed, but they weren’t what sent heat crawling up your spine—it was her. Still, you held your perfect composure, even as your pulse betrayed you.

Ellie, however, wasn’t media-trained like you.

You caught it in the way she exhaled a beat too hard, the restless flick of her fingers against her cuff—an old habit you knew too well. So you turned, offering her a small, knowing smile. Just enough to steady her without a word.

And when she smiled back, her gaze dipping—lingering at your waist, at the high slit of your dress—you saw the exact moment she tried to stop herself.

Tried.

Because it was already too late.

You caught it.

And so did the cameras.

Just as the moment threatened to spiral into something neither of you were prepared for, a voice cut through the chaos—

"Ellie! Some shots with The Fireflies?"

You took a few steps away for your solo shots, moving with practiced ease—but not before glancing back at Ellie. You met her gaze, and, just to push your luck, tossed her a wink.

Ellie huffed out a breath, shaking her head with a smirk—half exasperation, half something else. But then, effortlessly, she brought two fingers to her lips and blew you a kiss.

Casual. Smooth. She didn’t even have to think about it.

The cameras exploded.

Before you could turn away, movement in your periphery caught your attention—Jesse and Dina closing in on Ellie. They both looked unfairly good.

Jesse was all sleek confidence in an all-black suit, sharp and effortless. Dina, wrapped in emerald silk that shimmered under the flashing lights, looked radiant—her curls framing her smirk as she nudged Ellie’s side.

“Didn’t take you for the PDA type, rockstar” she teased, just loud enough for Ellie to hear over the chaos.

Ellie rolled her eyes, but the pink dusting her ears gave her away.

“Over here!”

The cameras ate up the sight of the three of them standing side by side—the infamous Fireflies, rock’s favorite rebels, draped in luxury but still looking like they belonged on a stage rather than a red carpet.

“Jesse! How does it feel to be here tonight?”

Jesse grinned, reaching up to adjust his sunglasses despite the fact that the sun had set hours ago. "It’s surreal, man. We’re just some idiots making music, and now we’re here? Wild."

Dina snorted before flashing the cameras a dazzling smile. "Speak for yourself. I knew we’d be here eventually."

A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd.

"Seven nominations this year! That’s huge. How are y'all feeling?"

Ellie shifted her weight, rolling her shoulders back, letting the reckless persona slip fully into place. "Feeling good. Feeling grateful. It’s crazy, you know? We put everything into this album, and to see people connect so much with it—it’s the best feeling in the world."

"Any category you’re hoping to take home?"

Jesse chimed in before Ellie could, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "Oh, we all know she wants album of the year. She won’t say it, but we know."

Ellie groaned, shoving him off. "Shut up."

Dina smirked. "He’s not wrong, though."

Ellie sighed dramatically, but there was a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "Listen, if we win anything, I’ll be happy. But yeah—album of the year would be pretty fucking cool."

"Dina, you co-wrote a few songs on the album. Any personal favorite?"

She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Oh, definitely 'Ghost Town.' That one’s special."

Jesse scoffed. "It’s because she knows that song makes people cry."

"Is that true, Dina?"

She grinned mischievously. "I mean… I’m not trying to make people cry. But if it happens, it happens."

More laughter. More cameras flashing. The Fireflies had a way of making these events feel less rigid, less scripted—something about the way they didn’t take themselves too seriously, even when the world was watching.

"Over here! One for Vogue!"

You turned, giving them the shot. A slight tilt of your chin. A slow blink, just enough to let the moment linger before moving on.

"Five Grammy nominations! How does it feel to be one of the most celebrated artists this year?"

You smiled, measured—but genuine. "It’s unreal. Truly. I still don’t think it’s sunk in yet, but I’m beyond grateful. Every single nomination is an honor, especially alongside so many incredible artists."

"Which nomination means the most to you?"

You let out a soft laugh. "That’s like picking your favorite child—you just can’t do it. But… Best New Artist? That one truly means a lot."

"And if you win it tonight?"

Your gaze flickered to the side for just a second—to Ellie. She was responding to the reporter's questions with her band, one hand raised to the back of her neck, lips pressed together like she was holding back a smirk.

"Then I guess I’ll have to celebrate properly" you teased.

"Speaking of celebrating, is Ellie your good luck charm?"

The question hit as if they had been waiting for it.

Your smile didn’t waver. You turned slightly, gaze drifting again towards the woman in question, standing a few feet away, all angles and ease and damn suit.

"I mean... she’s definitely something" you said smoothly.

A ripple of laughter, cameras flashing faster.

"Ellie, any speech prepared if you win?"

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck, a dead giveaway of her discomfort. "God, no. I don’t plan that shit. I’ll probably just black out and hope for the best."

Jesse clapped a hand on her back, grinning. "Or she’ll get all emotional. It could go either way."

Ellie shot him a glare, but her mouth twitched, fighting a grin.

"Is there someone special you'll be celebrating with if you win tonight?"

Her eyes flickered to you—just for a second. And that was long enough.

"I think we all know the answer to that."

And just like that, the internet went up in flames.

"Final question—What do you think of her dress?"

The question came loud, eager. Jesse and Dina tensed, bracing for her usual deflection. But Ellie didn’t dodge. She turned toward the cameras, that infuriating smirk curling at the edges of her lips. And then, without hesitation—

“Gorgeous.” A pause. A flick of her tongue over her bottom lip. “But a problem.”

A frenzy. Shutters clicking, voices overlapping, the question fired back at her from all directions.

"A problem? What do you mean?"

Ellie exhaled slowly, adjusting the cuff of her sleeve, the corner of her mouth lifting like she knew exactly what she was doing.

"No further comments."

The press erupted. If the energy had been electric before, it was nothing short of combustible now.

Ellie barely seemed to notice. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

Because her eyes found you again, this time with no attempt to hide her ogling—taking in every inch of you. In just a second, you felt her fingers flexing against your waist. It was just a twitch, like she needed something to hold on to, something to keep herself grounded.

She leaned in. Close enough that you felt the heat of her breath against your skin, close enough that the world outside this moment didn’t seem to exist.

“Missed you, pretty girl.”

The words licked through you like a live wire, igniting something low in your stomach.

And oh, fuck her.

Yeah... fuck her...

You barely had time to collect those thoughts before you spotted Jesse and Dina waiting by the entrance. Jesse looked like he was one second away from losing it. Dina wasn’t even pretending to hold back.

The moment you reached them, she grabbed Ellie by the shoulders and shook her, dramatic as ever. "You fucking menace."

She groaned, shoving her off. "Jesus Christ, Dina—"

"Did you have to say that?!" she wheezed between cackles. "‘Her dress is a problem’?! Ellie, you’re the damn problem!"

You raised a brow, unimpressed. "You really just said that?"

Ellie scoffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "What else was I supposed to say? It’s the truth."

Jesse slung an arm around Ellie’s shoulders, shaking his head with a knowing smirk. "You do realize you just handed them six months’ worth of headlines, right?"

Dina wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, still grinning. "No, Jesse, she might as well have just proposed."

Ellie groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

You bit back a laugh, tilting your head at her. "You should focus, Williams."

Ellie’s tongue flicked against her cheek, a telltale sign she was biting back something reckless. "Right. Focus. That’s exactly what I’m doing."

The look she gave you said otherwise.

Rolling your eyes, you nudged her toward the entrance. "Come on, before they shove another mic in your face."

Ellie muttered something under her breath—still pink around the ears—but she followed.

The second you stepped into the arena, the energy slammed into you.

The flashing lights, the deafening roar of the crowd, the electric tension of the biggest names in the industry all packed under one roof—it was overwhelming in the best way.

By the time you reached your table, the show was minutes from starting. The stage loomed ahead, glowing under colorful lights, and the weight of it all finally started to sink in.

Ellie pulled out your chair like it was second nature before settling into her own. She stretched an arm over the back of your seat, leaning in just enough—like she belonged there. Like this was normal. Like you weren’t about to perform together in front of millions of people in just a few hours.

You exhaled slowly, willing yourself to focus.

The ceremony erupted to life—blinding lights, deafening applause, an opening act that shook the arena to its core. You clapped along, laughed when you were supposed to, tried to focus on the performances, but the night moved in a blur—too fast, too loud, too big.

Every so often, Ellie leaned in—just close enough for you to feel her there, to murmur some dry remark about the show, to let you catch the faintest trace of that infuriatingly expensive cologne.

It was criminal.

She had no business smelling that good, looking that good—especially when the cameras had made it their personal mission to capture every single interaction between you.

Then she looked at you again. But this time she didn’t just look, she stared.

That sharp, cutting kind of gaze that made it really fucking hard to breathe. The kind that peeled back layers, left you bare, made your stomach flip in ways you weren’t prepared for.

You swallowed, shifting slightly in your chair. “Stop staring at me like that."

Ellie smirked. Lips moving just enough for anyone watching to read them perfectly.

"Nah. You look too fucking hot right now."

And before you could even glance at her, the entire place detonated in wolf whistles.

Rachel choked on her drink. Jesse and Dina damn near lost their minds.

And that's how you realized those 5 seconds of interaction were aired live. Broadcasted on the giant screens above the stage. Beamed straight into the homes of millions.

Your heart stopped. Ellie just grinned, slow and lazy.

You barely swallowed down a groan, heat rushing up your face as you leaned in, voice low and sharp. "You did that on purpose."

Ellie tilted her head, eyes glinting with pure mischief. "No clue what you’re talking about, babe."

It was ridiculous. You weren’t even trying to give them anything, but every glance, every flicker of tension, every barely-there smirk on Ellie’s lips sent the crowd spiraling into another round of shrieks and whispers.

Rachel, seated beside you, was thriving.

"You two are a headline machine" she snorted between rounds of applause.

The night raged on—but no matter how many Grammys changed hands, the energy never settled. The internet was already a crime scene. Tweets flying, reaction lives multiplying, people analyzing every frame of a broadcasted thirst scandal like their lives depended on it.

And then, it happened.

One of the hosts, a comedian notorious for dragging celebrities for sport, strutted onto the stage for a mid-show bit. The crowd buzzed, half-focused, half-drunk on the night’s chaos. But the second he spoke, the place got quiet.

“So, listen. I know we’re here to celebrate music—” He made air quotes, grinning, “—but let’s be honest, half of you are only watching for the drama.”

Scattered laughter. Some knowing applause.

The host smirked, tapping the mic. “There’s been a lot of big moments already. But I think we all know the biggest.”

You already felt it coming. That sharp prickle at the back of your neck, the one that always crept in right before you were about to be publicly dragged. Next to you, Ellie straightened like she smelled blood in the water.

A pause. A slow, menacing turn towards the camera.

“I mean, damn, Ellie Williams, way to keep it subtle.”

The arena got as loud as it could get. Laughter, cheers, people fully losing their minds.

The cameras caught Ellie letting out a slow breath, masking it with a shameless smirk—while you groaned, dropping your head into your hands in utter defeat.

The host grinned. “Oh, don’t get shy now! We all saw it.”

And then, without mercy—

The clip replayed.

Ellie, smirking, gaze trailing over you like she was seconds away from bending you across the table and ruining you beyond repair. Not even a second later, she mouthed the words—slow, crystal clear—"You look too fucking hot right now."

Screams. Someone banged their fist on a table. The most famous artists of the world clapping along like it was the national anthem.

Ellie dragged a hand down her face. You felt your soul ascend to the astral plane.

“Now, I don’t know about you guys, but that didn’t sound like a casual compliment to me. That sounded like someone five seconds away from violating FCC guidelines.”

Rachel choked on her drink. Jesse was doubled over. Dina smacked his arm so hard he yelped.

The camera darted in the moment Ellie finally cracked, shaking her head as she lifted her glass. She called dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re sooo funny!”

"I know right?" The host sighed, utterly delighted, milking the moment like this was the best material he’d ever been handed. “Listen. This isn’t just a relationship. This is cinema. This is a public service. So, on behalf of the people—”

A smirk. “Keep being messy. We love it.”

"And the Grammy for Best New Artist goes to…"

The presenter let the moment stretch, his pause winding the tension impossibly tight. You swore you could hear your own heartbeat over the silence. Every muscle in your body coiled, bracing for impact.

"Y/N!"

Your jaw dropped.

The world blurred.

Earlier, you had already stood twice on the stage, had already felt the weight of gold in your hands when they announced you had won Best Pop Vocal Album and Song of the Year.

Those moments had been surreal enough—standing there, overwhelmed, trying to string words together while your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

And yet—this felt different.

This wasn’t just an album or a song win. This was you. Your career being cemented in history, branded with a title that only a handful of artists had ever held before.

It hit you all at once—the deafening roar, the rush of movement around you, the sheer weight of what just happened. Rachel’s hands were on your shoulders, shaking you with unfiltered joy, her voice an unintelligible blur of triumph in your ears. Jesse and Dina were yelling, clapping, cheering like you had just won the Super Bowl.

And Ellie—

Ellie was right there, standing beside you, her expression unreadable for a second before it cracked into a grin.

"Congrats, babe," Her hand found the small of your back, her lips brushing just close enough to your ear to send something hot racing down your spine. "Knew you'd win."

Her voice was low, smooth, laced with something that wasn't just confidence—it was certainty. Like she'd seen this coming before you ever could.

Your breath caught, but there was no time to process it. You rose to your feet, hands trembling, legs carrying you up the stage like you weren’t entirely sure this was real.

The Grammy was placed into your hands. Solid. Heavy. Yours.

You could barely breathe, barely think. All you could feel was the rush—that dizzying, overwhelming realization that you had just won the biggest award of your career. Somewhere in the madness, you swore you could hear Rachel screaming your name like she was personally responsible for your victory.

You stepped up to the mic, fingers tightening around the Grammy like it was the only thing keeping you from floating away. You took a deep breath, exhaled, the music starting to lower.

"I—" Your voice cracked before you could even start. A breathless, disbelieving laugh slipped out, and the crowd responded with warm applause.

You swallowed. Steady.

"I don’t even know how to put this into words." Another pause. Another shake of your head. "God." You let out a shaky breath, glancing down at the golden award in your hands. 

Your eyes flicked back up to the sea of people, searching for something—someone.

Ellie.

Still standing. Still watching.

Amusement still played at the corner of her lips, but her eyes held something else entirely. Deeper, almost reverent, like she wasn’t just looking at you now but at every version of you that had fought to stand here.

And if you weren’t so utterly oblivious, you might’ve caught it—the way her gaze lingered, soft and unguarded, completely giving her away. Hopelessly, undeniably enamored.

"...I started this journey with nothing but a voice and a dream. And for a long time, that felt like all I had. There were moments where I thought—maybe that wasn’t enough. Maybe I wasn’t enough. There were nights I played to empty rooms, days I poured everything into songs no one would ever hear. I wrote lyrics on the backs of receipts, on napkins, in the notes app at three in the morning because I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted this. How much I needed it.”

A hush settled over the room, the kind that only happens when people are truly listening.

You swallowed, steadying yourself. "I wrote in tiny apartments, on shitty couches, in the back of tour buses running on fumes. I lost sleep. I lost myself, sometimes. And I thought, if this never happens for me, at least I’ll know I tried. At least I’ll know I gave everything I had.”

You let out a shaky breath, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. 

“And now—now I’m here.”

The applause was thunderous. A few cheers rang out. You blinked hard, feeling the burn behind your eyes.

God, you were really going to cry.

"This album—this album was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was terrifying. I put my entire soul into it, ripped myself open, laid every piece of me bare for the world to see. And you guys—” Your voice cracked. “You listened. You understood. And that means more to me than I will ever be able to say."

The cameras panned to the crowd—to fans wiping their eyes, to artists who got it, who knew exactly what this moment felt like.

You took a breath, a real, deep one, grounding yourself. "I have to thank my team—the people who held me up when I couldn’t stand on my own. The ones who fought for me, believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. My incredible producers, my friends, my family, and especially Rachel, my manager, who I love very deeply and deserves every award ever for putting up me.”

The cameras cut to Rachel, who threw her hands up dramatically and mouthed, You’re a nightmare, but I love you too! The crowd erupted into laughter as she shook her head, pretending to wipe away a tear.

You let out a real laugh, rolling your eyes as the applause swelled. “And my fans. God, my fans. You are the reason I’m standing here right now. You built this with me. You made me feel like my voice mattered when I wasn’t sure if it did.”

"And to everyone who inspired this album…"

The shift was instant. The room seemed to inhale all at once, thousands of people leaning in, waiting, hanging onto your words like they were the only thing in the world.

You let the silence stretch as your eyes found Ellie’s again.

And there it was.

That look. Soft. Steady. A gleam of something warm, knowing, impossibly fond.

A smirk threatened the corner of your lips before you murmured.

"You know who you are."

She exhaled a quiet chuckle, teeth biting her bottom lip like she was actively holding herself back. Like she was resisting the urge to make things worse.

But then—

The camera darted to her as she mouthed something. Loud and clear, every syllable unmistakable.

"Say my name next time, babe."

The entire place detonated. Someone—probably Rachel—screamed so loud you swore the walls shook.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead, fighting back a laugh. “Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head.

Ellie just leaned back, grinning, completely unbothered, looking far too pleased with herself. And, because she was insufferable, she raised her glass in a taunting toast.

You exhaled, shaking your head with a quiet laugh. Tried to collect yourself, to focus, to push past the way your heart was damn near sprinting out of your chest. 

“Alright, before this completely spirals out of control—” A knowing chuckle rippled through the crowd.

“Thank you to the Academy for this incredible honor. For giving me a seat at the table. For giving me this unforgettable moment. I'll never take it for granted.”

A standing ovation, a hurricane of applause, waves crashing over you, unrelenting. You let yourself feel it, let it sink into your bones, let it root itself deep inside the part of you that never thought you'd get here.

You swallowed hard, pressing the Grammy to your chest.

“Thank you.” you said one last time, voice thick with emotion.

Backstage was chaos. The kind that crackled in the air, thick with heat and adrenaline, pressing in from every angle. Crew members rushed past, earpieces buzzing, boots thudding against the concrete.

But it was the moment that solidified everything, the confirmation of what the world already knew, what still lingered in the air.

She had won the Grammy for Best Duo/Group Performance earlier that night, a victory so deafening, so inevitable, that when your names were called the entire place erupted before you even stood up.

The footage was already looping across every major network, social media imploding under the weight of it—Ellie’s stunned, breathless laugh, the way she’d grabbed your hand without thinking, the way you’d both held onto each other like you were afraid to let go.

The rest of the speech blurred in a mix of gratitude and disbelief, lost in the rush of emotions, the sheer, unreal magnitude of the moment. Even as you left the stage, Grammys in hand, cameras flashing, the words wouldn’t stop looping in your head.

But it was offstage, away from the world for just a second, were Ellie’s fingers brushed your wrist. She leaned in, breath warm against your skin, murmuring,

"We fucking won, love."

The way she said it.

The way love sat in her mouth, heavy, real, certain.

That was the moment that made your heart skip a beat.

And now, an hour later, standing under the blistering heat of the backstage lights, about to perform that song for the first time in front of the world, the weight of it settled between you.

This was history. 

And somehow, it still felt like just the beginning.

You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down your black leather bodysuit—sleek, form-fitting, sculpted to your frame like a second skin. Silver zippers running along the sides, glinting under the dressing room lights. Fingerless gloves hugged your hands, the worn leather creaking as you flexed your fingers.

Your hair was a masterpiece of controlled chaos. Styled in tousled waves, effortlessly messy, strands falling just right to frame your face. A few loose pieces skimmed your cheekbones, adding to the sharp, untouchable edge of your look.

Your reflection stared back at you—calm, composed—but your pulse told a different story.

Ellie stood across from you, rolling her shoulders, fingers flexing over her guitar. But her eyes—her eyes were on you.

"You good?" Her voice was low, edged carefully.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders. "I think so. You?"

Her lips twitched between a smirk and a promise. A fleeting brush of fingers. “Always.”

A tech shoved an earpiece into your hand. “One minute.”

Jesse and Dina flanked the stage, all sharp focus, no laughter now. The whole thing was a message wrapped in spectacle, and you all were at the center of it.

“Hey” Ellie dipped her head, voice softer. “You’re gonna be incredible.”

Your breath hitched.

The countdown buzzed in your earpiece. Three. Two. One.

A final squeeze of your hand, then the lights dropped, plunging the arena into darkness.

A breath. A heartbeat. A single second of silence stretched impossibly thin—then shattered.

A lone, drawn-out note curled through the speakers, slithering into the dark. The crowd inhaled all at once, their anticipation a living, breathing thing.

A spotlight.

It hit Ellie first.

She stood center stage, shoulders squared, guitar slung low, head bowed just enough for strands of auburn hair to shield her eyes. The soft glow of the lights carved sharp edges into her silhouette—her presence commanding, electric.

She wore a fitted black leather vest, the worn material unzipped. Underneath, a dark, sleeveless shirt clung to her frame, fabric stretched taut over lean muscle. The vest’s open sides exposed the sculpted lines of her arms—sinewy, strong, ink curling up her biceps, disappearing beneath the fabric. Her jeans, dark and low-slung, sat comfortably on her hips, belt hanging loose, silver buckle glinting under the stage lights.

She strummed once.

The note rumbled through the floor, through your lungs, through every goddamn inch of the arena, rich and deep enough to sink into your ribs.

Then came the drums—Jesse’s steady, pounding heartbeat behind it all. Dina followed, her bass humming low, sticky and intoxicating curling through the air.

The second spotlight ignited.

You.

A sharp inhale from the crowd. A deafening roar that barely registered because you weren’t looking at them.

You were looking at her.

Ellie’s head lifted, her gaze finding yours through the dim haze of stage smoke, and it felt like a click into place. Like a gun being cocked.

A slow smirk curled at the edge of your lips as you reached for the mic. The metal was cool beneath your fingertips, grounding you, anchoring you against the whirlwind of sound swelling around you.

Then—your voice.

Soft at first. A whisper, stretching into the space between you.

“Nine in the morning, the man drops his kid off at school...”

Ellie exhaled, barely audible, but you heard it. Saw it. The way her grip on the guitar tightened. The way her lips parted like she was trying to breathe through something thick, weighty.

“And he's thinking of you… Like all of us do…”

Your voice dipped, teasing, stretching each syllable like elastic.

Ellie's pupils where blew wide, her fingers moving with almost violent precision, wrenching every note from the strings like they owed her money. Her jaw clenched, her body taut with restraint, like she was holding back.

The second chorus slammed into place faster than you expected it.

Ellie took a step forward.

You mirrored it.

Closer.

Closer.

Until the heat of the stage lights wasn’t the only thing licking up your skin.

Your breath hitched when she leaned in—not enough to touch, not yet, but enough that the space between you felt razor-thin, stretched tight.

Her lips parted. And she whispered.

"Sing it for me."

Not a request.

A dare.

Your fingers curled tighter around the mic, knuckles white, pulse hammering beneath your skin.

Staring straight into her, you sang with your voice steady, resounding stronger now.

“She... she's lives in daydreams with me…”

The bridge erupted, scorching through the speakers, and with it—Ellie’s solo.

She played like she was setting the world on fire.

Head tilted back, throat exposed, the column of her neck glowing with sweat. Her fingers tore up the frets, raw, unrelenting, a force of pure instinct. The way her body moved, hips shifting with each brutal strum—was hypnotic. 

And fuck, you had to get closer.

You pressed in behind her, your back flush against hers, bodies fitting together like a perfectly tuned chord. You lifted your leg slightly, letting the weight of your head tilt fully and rest against her shoulder, the heat between you palpable, searing.

From the side, the camera caught everything—the way your bodies aligned, the sharp contrast of her dark outfit against your exposed skin, the slow drag of your breath against her neck.

The scent of sweat, leather, and something distinctly Ellie flooded your senses. Intoxicating, overwhelming.

And you felt it—the sharp hitch in her inhale, the way her fingers trembled over the strings, her solo faltering for the briefest, nearly imperceptible second. No one else would have noticed.

But you did.

And she did too.

Still, she kept playing. Hands moving with lethal precision, veins standing stark beneath inked skin as she willed herself to stay focused.

Your breath ghosted along the side of her neck—just enough to make her shiver, just enough to make the fine hairs at her nape stand on end. Your lips hovered a fraction closer, as if you might close the distance, and hell, you wanted to.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed there, tormenting, teasing, giving her just enough to feel it everywhere.

And then—your hand. A slow, burning trail down her side, fingers grazing the hem of her vest, skating over the sharp line of her hipbone. Taunting. Dragging just beneath the thin fabric of her shirt where the heat of her skin burned against your palm.

You felt it there. Her heartbeat. Not just fast. Not just erratic.

Pounding.

Together, you were a collision of power and sensuality, raw and unrelenting. Every movement between you carried an electric tension, so thick the air itself seemed to hum, as if the very stage couldn't contain that kind of charge.

On your own, each of you commanded the stage—Ellie with her wild, untamed energy and you with the fierce, magnetic intensity of your presence.

But together?

The force you unleashed was almost unbearable, so overwhelming no one in the audience could look away, not even for a second.

Ellie’s fingers danced over the guitar, every note slicing through the air like it was meant just for you. Your movements synced in dangerous harmony, bodies aligned with ruthless precision, each touch building a storm that was impossible to resist.

The crowd was losing themselves in the performance, screams and chants rising in deafening waves, as if the entire room was pulsing with the same energy. The air crackled with raw power, each note vibrating through every soul present.

But you could feel it—the moment Ellie was teetering on the edge. Her eyes flickered with something dangerous, a storm brewing just beneath the surface, and the crowd, blissfully unaware, was urging her to let it all go.

You held her there, turning to face her and stare right into her darkened eyes, your energy pushing back like an undeniable force of nature.

The final note struck.

A breathless, stretched-out second. Suspended. Waiting.

The silence held still. The entire world watching held still.

And Ellie finally snapped.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, grip firm—possessive, like she was anchoring herself to you, like letting go wasn’t an option.

And then—

Her lips crashed against yours, shattering the space between you in an instant.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t soft. It was fierce, breath-stealing—like a match to gasoline, like every second leading up to this had been waiting to ignite.

The world outside collapsed into static—flashing lights, deafening screams, history fracturing in real-time. Millions, no, billions watched, but none of them mattered.

Not here.

Here, there was only the heat of her lips, the tremor in her hands, the breathless inevitability of it all. Nothing else existed in this moment, in this single, suspended second, where Ellie Williams was kissing you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Like every lyric, every chord, every goddamn heartbeat had been leading her here. To you.

Nothing about it was controlled. It wasn’t measured, wasn’t practiced, wasn’t meant for anyone else. 

It was rough, frantic, a collision neither of you could contain any longer. Your gasp vanished into her mouth, her teeth grazing your lower lip before she deepened it, before she took more. A push and pull, a battle neither of you were trying to win.

Your fingers found her hair, twisting, tugging, needing. Ellie groaned—low, wrecked, lost to it. Her grip on your hair tightened, her body pressing harder against yours, the strap of her guitar caught between you, digging into her shoulder as if it was the only thing holding her to reality.

The kiss wasn’t that long.

But It didn’t have to be.

Because in those reckless, unscripted seconds, everything else ceased to matter.

The lights dimmed, the edges of the world dissolving into darkness. The deafening screams of the audience blurred into white noise. Still, neither of you moved. Neither of you even dared to breathe.

Ellie lingered, forehead pressed against yours, her breath mixing with yours—uneven, ragged. Her fingers didn’t leave your hair. Your hand fisted the collar of her shirt, holding her there, refusing to let go.

Then, with maddening slowness, her lips brushed yours again. Just once. Just enough to send a fresh wave of heat through your body.

And then—

She bit down her bottom lip, smirking, eyes half-lidded, ruined.

The screen behind you cut to black.

A sea of voices drowned the arena, the sheer force of them shaking the ground beneath your feet. Artists at nearby tables howled, clapped, banged their hands on the table like they were watching history unfold. Because they were.

It was chaos, hysteria, the internet already imploding, the moment already immortalized in the camera of the biggest stage in music.

But you weren’t thinking about that.

Because Ellie was still looking at you.

And you were still burning.

The performance had left the world in ruins.

The stage still pulsed with the aftershock, smoke curling in lazy ribbons toward the rafters, echoes of the storm you’d just created. Ellie’s skin still glistened with sweat, fingers twitching, as though the strings of her guitar had burned into them.

You hadn’t even spoken since. You’d both just gone backstage, mechanically peeling off the layers of the performance—Ellie changing back into her suit, you changing back to your gown, both gazes distant.

There was no triumph in the air between you, just an unspoken weight that neither of you was ready to acknowledge.

Sitting in the table, Jesse kept cracking his knuckles, each pop a reminder of the nerves winding tighter around all of you. Dina had kept her distance, eyes darting between the two of you, a knowing smirk playing at the edges of her lips.

Rachel, ever the instigator, shot a teasing comment your way. “Well, that was an interesting little moment, wasn’t it?” she’d muttered, though you didn’t even look her way. You couldn’t. Not when the only thing on your mind was Ellie.

She continued to make jokes, though no one was really listening. Jesse and Dina exchanged glances every second, but it was clear that nothing was really being said about what had just happened—what the fuck was actually happening between you and Ellie.

At least not yet.

But somehow, that moment wasn’t even the peak of the night.

This was it. The most important award. The one that meant everything.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the final award of the night... Album of the Year.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the presenter slowly opened the envelope. Every second stretched longer than it should, and you felt the weight of it bearing down, thick and suffocating.

“And the Grammy goes to…”

She dragged it out, eyes skimming over the sealed envelope, making everyone in the room lean forward in anticipation. Finally, the words everyone was waiting to hear came crashing through the silence.

“Louder Than Fate—The Fireflies!”

For a second, Ellie didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Her brain short-circuited, thoughts crumbling before they could form. The roaring applause, the screaming, the flashing lights—it all blurred into a deafening wave of static.

Then your hands were on her. Tugging her up, shoving her happily towards the stage. But she didn’t let go. Instead, Ellie grabbed you, pulling you into her arms with a force that nearly knocked you off balance. 

Her arms locked around you, face buried in your shoulder, and you felt it—her breath, shaking, the way her heart was slamming against her ribs.

“We fucking won!” she choked, half laughing, half gasping. “We won!”

“You won Els!" You grinned, squeezing her back with pure joy. She deserved this more than anyone. "Now go! Get that fucking Grammy!”

She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze—eyes wild, cheeks flushed, looking more alive than ever. And in that moment, you felt something tight in your chest. It wasn't just being proud of her. It wasn't just admiration.

It was sharp, deep and inescapable.

It was love.

But before either of you could fully grasp the warmth spreading between you, she pressed a quick, burning kiss to your temple.

And then she was gone, practically sprinting towards the stage, Jesse and Dina right behind her.

This wasn’t just another Grammy. This was the Grammy. The one that cemented legends.

Joel sat in the leather armchair of his mansion, the soft glow of the television screen casting flickers of light across his weathered face. He had a whiskey in hand, untouched for the moment, his eyes glued to the screen. The Fireflies had just won the Grammy for Album of the Year. His daughter’s name—Ellie’s name—echoed in the air like a bittersweet symphony.

It had been a year since they’d truly spoken, their relationship frayed by time and distance, the kind of tension only a father and daughter could understand. He wasn’t sure when it had all fallen apart, but now, sitting there in the quiet of his home, he felt a pang in his chest. Ellie had always been something extraordinary, even from the first time he’d heard her sing. The way she commanded a stage, the way her music bled raw emotion—it was all her, and yet, he felt like he had missed so much.

He’d won that same award long time ago, before his life had taken a turn. But watching her now, so alive with success, it felt like he had lost something more precious than an award. The distant ache of their fractured bond settled deep in his bones, but there was something else too. Tender, almost imperceptible. Pride.

Watching her up there, winning it all, made him realize he had underestimated her—hadn’t really seen the depth of the woman she’d become. And in that moment, Joel let himself feel it. Just for a second, he allowed himself to believe she was still his little girl, the one with the wild dreams, the one who made him proud.

He swallowed hard, a lump rising in his throat as the camera panned to the group rising to the stage. Ellie’s face—elusive, yet radiant—flashed across the screen, and he finally brought the glass to his lips, taking a long sip, trying to drown the swell of emotions that had quietly crept up on him.

Jesse grabbed the mic first, running a hand over his face like he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t a fever dream. “Holy shit.”

Laughter rippled through the audience. Dina shook her head, eyes already tearing up as she pressed her hands together.

“I swear, I blacked out for a second. This is—God, this is unreal. Six out of seven? We—” She exhaled a shaky laugh, pressing a hand to her chest. “We grew up watching this. Watching our heroes stand here. And now we’re here. With this.” She lifted the golden award, her voice trembling.

Ellie shifted, her fingers white-knuckled around the mic. She looked out at the thousands of faces staring back at them, the flashing lights, the cameras—the weight of it all pressing into her ribs. Her voice came slow, measured, but full of something real.

“We made our first album in Jesse’s garage,” she said, shaking her head. “We had a shit drum kit, a borrowed mic, and no idea what the hell we were doing. We fought for everything. We didn't receive handouts. We almost quit. More than once.” A small chuckle escaped her lips. “And somehow… somehow, we didn’t.”

Jesse nudged her. “Somehow.”

“It’s funny how some people think everything comes easy. Like success just lands in your lap because of… I don’t know, circumstance.” She shrugged casually, the corner of her mouth lifting in a subtle smirk. “But no, we did it the hard way. Built this from the ground up with no silver spoon involved, believe it or not.”

Her gaze wandered for a moment, distant, as the weight of the words sank in. All those times people had talked shit about her, calling her a nepo baby because of her dad, because of Joel. She could almost hear their voices now, the constant judgment, the assumption that she’d only made it because of who she was related to.

Ellie’s jaw tightened as the thought lingered. She’d proven them all wrong, of course.

But even now, in the midst of everything, part of her couldn’t help but miss him. The man who had shaped her, the one who’d once believed in her in ways no one else did. She wished he was here—just for a second, just to see her now. To see that it wasn’t about him, not anymore. It was about her.

But that was the way of things, wasn’t it?

There was always more left unsaid than spoken.

She shook the thought off with a breath, a smile tugging at her lips once more, focusing on the crowd again, ready to move forward.

“We just had a dream, a shit ton of hard work, and a whole lot of blood, sweat, and tears. That’s it. We kept going, even when it was hard. Even when the industry told us there wasn’t space for a band like us. Even when it felt like we were screaming into the void. We kept going.”

She exhaled sharply, blinking at the crowd.

“And now we’re here. And it still doesn’t feel fucking real.”

The applause rumbled through the room, crashing over them like a wave. Ellie hesitated, her fingers tapping absently against the mic stand, as if searching for her next words.

And as Ellie spoke, all you could do was watch her, your chest swelling with so much love it almost hurt. It was overwhelming—this ache that crept up on you, filling every part of you until it felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

You couldn’t focus on the lies, the half-truths, not in this moment. All that mattered was the way she stood there, alive with passion, her eyes scanning the crowd, completely unaware of the effect she had on you.

For just a few seconds, you let yourself sink into that love, letting it fill you up as you watched her from a distance, knowing that this was the closest you'd been to the truth in a long time.

Then, her gaze shifted, locking eyes with you. The instant it happened, everything around you seemed to blur. Ellie’s focus softened, just for a moment, and you could see her breath hitch in her chest, her expression flickering between surprise and something else—deeper.

You were watching her, eyes wide, shiny with unshed emotion.

And without even noticing, it was a reflection of everything you felt but couldn’t say.

“But before Jesse and Dina get into the thank-yous, there’s something I need to say,” Ellie spoke, her tone now softer, eyes still locked on yours. For a moment, it was like she wasn’t speaking to the crowd at all, but to you alone.

“There are people you meet who change you. Who rip you apart and put you back together in ways you never saw coming.” She paused, her lips curling just slightly. “And even when they drive you crazy, you know, deep down, you’d be lost without them.”

Her words hit you harder than expected. The weight of them pressed into your chest. Your breath caught in your throat as the room seemed to shrink, the noise from the audience fading into a distant hum. Ellie’s gaze didn’t waver.

“And you’re that person for me.”

Your pulse roared in your ears. The cameras darted between you and Ellie's face, your shocked expression and glinting eyes displayed in the big screen.

Ellie's grip on the award was tight, knuckles white, but there was a tremor in her hand—a barely perceptible shake. She swallowed hard, a flicker of something in her eyes before she steadied herself again.

“You inspire me,” she continued, voice now steady, almost intimate. “You inspire me every damn day. Hell, you inspired this whole album... and I just wanted to say that…”

The floor beneath you seemed to slip away. The room felt smaller. The world felt smaller. You were frozen in place, watching her, feeling the weight of her eyes on you like she was unraveling something deep inside you.

And then the words came, quiet yet impossible to ignore. Her voice wavered, just barely, but she didn’t look away. And when she spoke, it was like everything she had just built up finally fell into place.

A confession wrapped in certainty.

“…That I love you.”

The room surged with cheering and screams again, but this time, you didn’t hear it. You didn’t even feel it. You were trapped in a quiet storm, the impact of her speech unraveling the last threads of control you’d been desperately holding onto.

You wanted to move, to do something, but everything was frozen. And as Ellie stood there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just changed everything.

The afterparty was a kaleidoscope of flashing lights, pulsing bass, and bodies moving in a haze of champagne and sweat. It was loud. Chaotic. The kind of place where reality blurred at the edges, where the night stretched endlessly, threatening to swallow you whole.

Somewhere between the high of winning and the rush of being pulled from one congratulatory hug to the next, you had changed. The gown was gone, replaced by another custom made Versace dress that clung to you like a second skin, the short silky fabric skimming over your curves with every movement. It was dangerously low at the back, exposing the smooth line of your spine.

Rachel dragged you in with the momentum of celebration, her excitement infectious, but your mind was splintered elsewhere—fractured between the weight of what had just happened on that stage, the burn of alcohol as you downed another drink.

The Fireflies had just won six Grammys. You had four in your name. The entire room revolved around you, shifting in waves of congratulations, camera flashes, and clinking glasses. Industry giants, celebrities, people you barely knew but whose faces were familiar from screens and headlines—they all gravitated towards you, drawn in by the sheer magnetism of victory.

People stopped you every step, hands on your shoulder, flashing smiles, toasting to your success. Someone handed you a drink. You took it. Someone else pulled you into a picture. You smiled. It was autopilot at this point, the buzz of alcohol smoothing the sharp edges of your thoughts, but not enough.

Not nearly enough.

Because Ellie was there. Somewhere.

Your chest was still a war zone, torn between the weight of her words and the gnawing doubt that followed.

You hadn’t spoken since the speech. You hadn’t even had the chance to. Because what the hell were you supposed to say?

Ellie hadn’t acted any different after stepping off that stage. No grand follow-up, no explanation.

So you drowned it in alcohol.

But some minutes after, you felt her before you saw her, an electric current crawling under your skin, an awareness that set every nerve ending on edge. When your eyes finally found her, she was leaning against the bar, whiskey in hand, gaze flickering over the crowd but never quite landing on you. Not directly.

But she was aware of you.

You could tell in the way she shifted, restless. The way her grip tightened around the glass when someone got too close to you. How her jaw clenched every time you threw back another shot, like she was silently daring you to stop.

She had changed too. The suit jacket from earlier had been abandoned in favor of a dark button-up, the sleeves rolled up –as always– to reveal the ink on her forearms. The fabric stretched across her shoulders in a way that made something inside you tighten. She had swapped the slacks for black jeans that sat low on her hips, her belt loosely fastened, like she couldn’t be bothered to care.

That outfit was nearly identical to the one she wore the night you first met—so much so that the sight of it sent a shiver through you, your insides twisting, almost unbearable. A rush of memory, of déjà vu, of the moment all of this disaster began.

Pulling you out of your thoughts, Jesse chuckled beside you, draping an arm over your shoulder. “Alright, pop princess. You’re celebrating a little hard, don’t cha think?”

Rachel smirked, tipping back her own drink. “Nah, let her. She just got love-bombed on international television. If I were her, I’d be drinking too.”

The words were meant to be playful, but they sank their teeth deeply into your feelings.

Love. 

What the fuck even was that?

That made the next shot go down easier than the last.

The crowd shifted, bodies pressing closer as the music swelled, bass rattling through the floor. People were dancing now, energy buzzing through the air, and before you could process it, hands were pulling at you—Dina, Jesse, Rachel—dragging you into the current of movement.

Your pulse stuttered when Ellie moved too. Not towards you, but close enough. A phantom touch in a sea of strangers. Your body moved on instinct, swaying with the beat, the vodka humming through your veins, but your mind was still stuck on her.

And then—her hands.

Light at first. A graze at your hip as she passed. Fingertips at the small of your back, testing.

Then firmer.

A hand splaying against your waist as she leaned in, the scent of whiskey and that something so distinctly her curling around your senses. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t turn. Didn’t face her.

Couldn’t face her.

“You tryna drink yourself unconscious?” Her voice was low, rough. Close enough that you felt the words more than heard them.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

Because what the fuck were you supposed to say?

No, I’m trying to forget the way you looked at me on that stage?

No, I’m trying to figure out if you actually meant that ‘I love you’ and everything else that came before?

No, I’m trying to stop loving you?

Instead, you laughed, sarcastic and bitter.

“Yeah. Guess I have a lot to celebrate.”

Ellie hummed, a quiet sound lost beneath the music. But she didn’t move away.

The room pulsed around you, neon lights catching on the sweat-slick skin of bodies pressed too close. Jesse and Dina had lost all semblance of control. Jesse had taken to spinning in slow circles with his arms out, eyes shut like he was ascending to another plane of existence. His drink sloshed wildly with every rotation, soaking his sleeve, but he didn’t seem to care. Dina, meanwhile, had climbed onto Rachel's back at some point, shrieking in laughter as she staggered under her weight.

You couldn't help but wonder…

When did my manager, Rachel, become so close with the Fireflies? Maybe she was undercover and didn’t tell me.

Ellie exhaled, shaking her head at the sight of them. "They’re gone."

You hummed, lips quirking. "They’re celebrating."

Ellie’s fingers flexed against your waist. "And you?"

You turned to her then, properly turned, and the shift in air between you was immediate. Her gaze dropped to your lips long enough to make your breath catch.

"I’m celebrating too." you said, voice heavier.

How much time had passed? 

Seconds? Minutes? Hours? 

You didn’t know what the hell was happening anymore.

More drinks pressed into your hand.

Whiskey, tequila, champagne, something that burned but went down too smooth. The world tilted, blurred at the edges. The pulse of the music, the flicker of lights, the heat of bodies moving—it all felt distant, hazy, unreal.

Every time you lifted a glass, it was like the world slowed down just enough for the chaos to settle into a haze, a blur of flashing lights and slurred speech.

Except for Ellie.

Somewhere in the same room, her presence was the only thing keeping you from slipping under.

Jesse had become a blur of limbs, his laughter ricocheting off the walls as he wobbled towards Rachel, trying—and failing—to lift her into a ridiculous dip. Dina, still draped across Rachel, was far too gone to notice. Every time she tried to speak, her words came out in a string of nonsensical giggles.

But you were beyond them now.

Your feet barely knew where the floor was, your body swaying alone with the pulse of the room. The shots had come in quick succession, the tequila numbing whatever had been left of you, blurring everything that happened—what Ellie said, what Ellie did. What the hell you were doing.

You hadn’t even realized how close she was until she was right next to you again, her shoulder brushing yours as she caught her breath. Her hair messy, few strands sticking to her cheek as she wiped a hand across her face. She was drunk.

But so were you.

The world tilted once more as you tried to steady yourself on her, your arm reaching out for balance, but her body was already against yours, both of you teetering on the edge.

She turned her head slowly, locking eyes with you. There was something in her gaze—a hazy, distant look that wasn’t quite her usual sharpness. It was like she was still here, but not really here, lost somewhere between the alcohol and the weight of everything unsaid.

“You’re... still here.” you mumbled, the words slurring slightly as they slipped out, your mind struggling to keep up.

“You really thought you could get rid of me that easily?” she asked, her voice low, thicker than usual. There was more behind her tone—frustration mixed with something else you couldn’t quite name.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your brain, but it only made things more blurry. “We’re both a fucking mess.”

She let out a laugh, but it came out too harsh, too wry. “Aren’t we all?” she muttered, her eyes flickering away from you for a moment, as if she was trying to hide from your gaze.

The alcohol was starting to hit you harder now. Everything around you felt like it was spinning, but you couldn’t stop drinking. You couldn’t stop focusing on her—the way she was so close, the way her presence anchored you in a way you didn’t understand. The words from earlier were still in your head, cutting through the fog.

What had she meant by them? What had you meant?

Ellie’s voice was at your ear again, low and teasing. “Why aren’t you joining them? Thought you wanted to celebrate.”

You squinted, trying to focus on her face, but everything was softening at the edges. “I—yeah, I do,” you slurred, struggling to keep your voice steady. “But you—”

“I know,” she interrupted, cutting you off with a soft chuckle. "I get it."

Her words hit you, hard. The way she said it—like she understood, like she knew exactly what you were feeling, even if you didn’t know it yourself.

Her hand brushed the small of your back, warm against your skin, and before you could pull away, her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You inhaled sharply, the air thick between you as your pulse quickened.

She leaned in, her lips brushing the side of your cheek, her breath hot against your skin. “We don’t have to talk about it, but... we can drink about it.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out hollow, filled with bitterness. “Is this your big plan? To just forget it all with more whiskey?”

Ellie’s laugh was reckless. “Yeah, pretty much,” she said, her voice dropping to something more serious.

“Because, you know... it’s working.”

She took another long sip from her glass, her fingers tightening on your waist as she pulled you even closer. Her touch was daring now, almost possessive, and it was too much. You shouldn’t have let it happen. You shouldn’t have let yourself get lost in the heat of the moment. But you did.

And for a moment, all that mattered was the way she held you.

Until the music changed, the beat dropping low, heavy. Bodies around you surged forward, people dancing even more recklessly now. Ellie pulled you with her, a tight grip on your wrist, and before you could even catch your breath, she was dancing with you—bodies pressed together, moving, swaying, too close.

She was intoxicating.

She was a disaster.

But so were you.

Jesse and Dina had collapsed onto a couch, giggling hysterically at some private joke only the alcohol could explain. Rachel was still upright, her face a mix of amusement and disbelief. They were far beyond drunk now.

And you and Ellie? You both were spiraling together, floating in that heady space where nothing mattered except the feel of the other’s body, the rhythm of the dance, the pull of the alcohol.

Neither of you were talking about what had happened earlier, about the weight of those words, about the things you both wanted to forget.

Instead, you drowned in each other, desperate to escape the weight of reality.

And yet, even as the night wore on and everything blurred into a mess of laughter, touches, and sweat, that feeling—that unbearable tension between you both—lingered. Unspoken. Waiting.

The last thing you remembered was the cold night air biting at your skin as Ellie steered you out of the club. Her hand was firm against your back, guiding you through the crowd with a force that felt almost possessive. You were stumbling, barely keeping your feet under you, the world spinning around you like a dizzying blur.

Then, before you could even register what was happening, her arms were around you, lifting you with ease as she tossed you over her shoulder. Your body felt weightless, and though everything seemed slow and dreamlike, her grip on you was steady.

You mumbled, too drunk to care about the mess of words. “Ellie... what are we doing? Where... where are we going?”

Her voice cut through the haze, rough and unsteady. “Shh... Just let me get you to the room, okay? You need to rest.”

But even in your fog, you couldn’t let go of the questions gnawing at your mind. “I don’t... I don’t get you, Ellie. You act like you don’t care, but then... then you do stuff like... like this," you slurred, trying to lift your head enough to look at her.

Her grip tightened slightly, a grunt escaping her as she adjusted you. “Don’t start with that now, okay? You're drunk as hell.” There was an edge to her voice, one that made you feel like you’d crossed some invisible line.

“No... no, I’m serious,” you murmured, struggling to get the words out. “I don’t get it. You don’t... you don’t say things, but you do them. And then you just... leave me hanging.”

Ellie paused for a moment, her pace slowing. You could feel her tension, like she was trying to work through something herself, her body shifting uncomfortably.

She muttered. “You’re drunk. I’m drunk. Let’s not... Let’s just not do this right now.”

Your head lolled against her shoulder as she carried you towards the elevator. The motion of the lift made your stomach turn, and for a split second, you felt the world tilt beneath you.

Ellie adjusted you again, tightening her grip, almost like she didn’t want to let go, but there was still something distant about her. Like she was trying to hold you close but keep herself guarded at the same time.

You tried to speak again, but the words came out jumbled, not quite fitting together.

“Just sleep it off, alright?” Her voice softened, but there was something else beneath it—Frustration? Guilt?. You couldn’t place it, but it made your chest ache, made everything feel even more confusing.

You blinked slowly, the alcohol in your system starting to wear off as your mind began to swirl with thoughts, anger bubbling up from the pit of your stomach.

Did she think you were stupid?

You were no longer floating in a hazy blur.

You were sharp, aware, and pissed.

The elevator door slid open with a soft ding, and Ellie stepped forward, carrying you towards the hotel room. She was trying to keep everything under control, to keep things quiet, but the tension in her movements was palpable. It told you everything you needed to know.

You were both walking on eggshells now.

As she pushed the door open, the soft click of it closing behind you felt like a weight crashing down, marking the threshold of everything that had been left unsaid. The room was heavy with silence, and you could feel the gap between you both stretching farther.

You were awake now—more awake than you’d been in hours—and everything that had been foggy just moments ago was now painfully clear.

Ellie walked you further into the room, but before she could adjust her grip to steady you again, you yanked yourself away from her. The move was harsh, almost frantic, and the shock of it hit both of you. You didn’t care if you stumbled or if your legs barely held you—there was too much rising inside you.

The alcohol had faded enough to let your frustration burn bright, and you couldn’t take the way she held you anymore, like you were a problem she needed to fix. 

You needed space. You needed answers.

Your feet hit the ground with a solid thud, but it was nothing compared to the force of your emotions crashing against you. The distance felt impossibly more wide as you took a few steps away from her.

“Why do you do this to me?” 

The question left you before you could stop it, your voice trembling with frustration as you broke silence. You clenched your fists at your sides, heart hammering in your chest.

Everything inside you was breaking, and you couldn’t keep it in. Not anymore.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?”

She froze, her body stiffening as her gaze met yours. For a moment, you saw something in her eyes—raw and vulnerable—but it quickly disappeared, replaced by that cold, distant mask she always wore. 

She sighed, voice low and defensive. “Don’t start with that now. I’m not having this conversation like this.”

But you couldn’t let it go. Not now, not ever. Not when it felt like everything was unraveling in front of you. 

"No, Ellie," you bit back, voice harsher than you intended. "I can't fucking take it anymore. We need to talk. And we need to do it now."

Ellie’s gaze shifted then. A quick flash of annoyance, then that cool, detached mask slipped into place as she crossed her arms.

"Fine, you wanna talk about it? Then we’ll fucking talk about it," she snapped, voice biting with cold frustration. 

"You think I don’t know what this is? You think I don’t get it?" Her tone was venomous, each word like a lash across your chest. "We both agreed from the start—this was nothing but a PR strategy. No feelings. No strings attached. And don’t pretend we didn’t set up those rules together."

Her words were like a slap in the face, and it made the anger inside you swell even more. 

She still hadn’t answered your question.

She hadn’t said anything real, anything that would make sense of this mess you were in. So, you pushed again. You had to. You couldn’t let her off the hook. 

"So that’s it? It was all just a game to you?" You growled, the bitterness lacing every word, the anger and hurt burning through you. "Just for the cameras, and none of it ever meant a damn thing?"

“Don’t twist it and act like you didn’t play along," she shot back, her voice tight with frustration. "We both knew what we were getting into. It wasn’t just me."

She wasn't answering any of your questions.

"Yeah, we did," you shot back, stepping closer, the space between you suffocating. "But I need to know if you ever felt anything."

Ellie’s eyes flickered. She seemed to hesitate for just a second, her fingers twitching by her side like she wanted to reach for something—anything—but she stayed frozen. 

"I already told you," she muttered, fire draining from her tone. "This was never supposed to get so complicated."

The words hung there between you, thick with everything you couldn’t say out loud.

You weren’t sure if you were ready to face whatever truth was buried under Ellie's defenses, but it didn’t matter anymore. You weren’t backing down.

"Then why the hell did you kiss me on that stage?" The question tore through you like fire, your voice breaking at the end. "Why did you make it feel real when we’ve both agreed it wasn’t?"

"It’s not like I wanted to—"

"Then why the hell did you say all that?" you interrupted, voice rising again.

The memories of the speech, the way she had looked at you, the weight of her words in front of everyone—it was all too much to swallow. 

"You said you loved me, Ellie! Right there, in front of the whole damn world! Don’t pretend like that was a mistake. Don’t pretend it didn’t mean anything."

She shouted, her voice sharp with panic now. "You were down there, looking at me like that, and I didn’t know what the hell else to say! I-"

Ellie’s face twitched, and for a brief moment, it looked like she might crack. But instead, she took a step back, as if she was trying to pull away from the weight of her own emotions. 

"So instead, you keep me at arm's length and make me feel like I don’t matter. You kiss me on stage, say you love me, act like you care, and then you pull away before things actually get real. What the hell is that, Ellie? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You could feel the rage inside you growing, but now it was a mix of anger and heartbreak, and you could barely breathe with how tight your chest felt. 

Her eyes softened for a split second before they hardened again, and she rubbed the back of her neck, frustration spilling over.

"You wanna know the truth? The truth is I didn't want to hurt you," she snapped, but her tone was shaky. "I didn’t want to drag you into something messy, because I knew I was already in too deep."

You felt the tears prick at the back of your eyes, the weight of her words crushing you as the confusion tore through you like a hurricane. 

"So why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why didn’t you just say something? Anything!"

Her face crumpled, and for a moment, she was completely exposed. All the walls she had built between you were crumbling, and you could see the rawness in her—tangled with guilt and frustration. 

She was trembling now, and not just from anger.

"I didn’t know what the hell I was doing," Ellie finally whispered, her voice breaking as she took a shaky step closer to you. "I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to care this much. I kept telling myself it was just chemistry, just... just a game, but every time you looked at me like that, I—I couldn’t stop it." Her voice cracked, and you saw her lips tremble.

You were almost afraid to breathe as she closed the distance between you. 

"You—you’ve always been more than I could handle. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting you," she murmured, voice breaking as her eyes searched for yours desperately. "But I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know how to admit it."

"Then admit it now." You gasped, the question escaping in a broken breath, the weight of it all crashing down on you. "What you said back there—was it true?"

Ellie’s breath hitched as if your words had shaken something deep inside her she had been trying to bury. Her eyes searched yours, as if trying to see past the hurt and confusion she had caused.

“All of it was true." 

She whispered, her voice ragged and thick with emotion. Her words cracked with vulnerability, the kind of honesty she’d been holding back for far too long. 

"Everything I said, everything I did—it was real. Every goddamn thing, even when I pretended it wasn’t. I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t say it sooner."

She stumbled over her own words, the panic and guilt so evident in her voice, but you couldn’t focus on that. Your heart was beating too loud, the air in your lungs suddenly scarce.

The world felt too heavy, too full of things you had never been able to say—things that had been buried deep inside both of you for far too long. Your chest tightened, a lump rising in your throat, and just as the overwhelming emotions started to consume you, you finally broke. 

"Ellie, I love you too" 

You whispered, the words trembling on your lips. The weight of your confession settled in the space between you, raw and honest, and you could feel the shift in the air, like everything was about to change.

Before you could process it, before you could even understand the force of what had just happened, her lips collided against yours. 

This kiss was different from any kiss you had ever shared. It was raw, hungry, and everything you've been craving but were too afraid to ask for. She was kissing you like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, like she was trying to pour every single feeling into the kiss—everything she had hidden from you for so long.

You melted into her, your hands moving on instinct, sliding up to wrap around her neck, pulling her closer. Her lips were demanding, insistent, and as her tongue brushed against yours, you gasped, feeling her heart race in time with your own. 

There was no pretense now—no walls, no doubts. Just Ellie, just you, tangled together in the most chaotic, beautiful mess you had ever known. 

The kiss turned desperate, raw, like neither of you could stand the space between breaths. Ellie’s hands gripped your waist, rough and unyielding, her lips tracing a burning path from your jaw to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey. You gasped, head tilting back, offering her more, needing more.

“God,” she rasped against your skin, voice wrecked and needy. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

Your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her back just enough to meet her gaze. You didn’t have to say it back; she saw the answer in your eyes before you crashed into her again, mouths crashing, desperate, starved.

Ellie’s hands slid beneath your dress, fingers skimming over your thighs, your stomach, tracing the soft curves. The dress rode higher, bunched around your hips, and then she was pushing it up and over your head, tossing it aside like it was nothing. 

You barely had time to shiver from the rush of cool air before she was on you again, her touch hot, reverent. She pulled back just enough, eyes raking over you, like she wanted to memorize every inch of you all over again.

Like this was your real first time together.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, fingers tracing along your side. “You’re—” She stopped, shaking her head like words didn’t stand a chance.

You smirked, dragging your hands up her arms before curling them into her hair, giving a slight tug just to hear her breath stutter. “Speechless?”

Ellie let out a shaky laugh, but her gaze softened. “Something like that.”

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders, and fuck—she was unreal. The way her breath hitched, the way her perky nipples hardened, the way her chest rose and fell, the freckles dusting her skin, her lips swollen and parted, ready.

Then, with a whispered curse, Ellie grabbed you, lifting you with ease, her hands firm and sure. You barely had time to gasp before your back hit the sheets, her body flush against yours—warm, solid, hers.

She loomed over you, her breath warm against your skin, her touch slow—too slow. Her fingers skated over your ribs, your waist, teasing, like she was savoring the feeling of you beneath her. Like she wanted to take her time.

"You have no idea what you do to me," she rasped, lips grazing your jaw.

A shiver ran through you, heat pooling low, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough when it came to her.

You arched into her, nails digging into her bare shoulders. "Then stop fucking teasing," you whispered, half-command, half-plea.

Ellie let out a breathy laugh, her hands gripping your thighs, pushing you further into the mattress. Her eyes flickered down, starving, a smirk tugging at her lips. 

"Needy," she murmured, almost to herself. "That’s cute."

Your frustration only made her hungrier. She surged forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth, swallowing the soft whimper that escaped you. 

And then, just as suddenly, you flipped her over, pressing her back into the mattress.

Ellie barely had time to react, her pupils blown wide, lips parted, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. She looked wrecked already, and you hadn’t even done anything yet.

That sent a sharp pulse through you.

She swallowed hard, fingers twitching against your hips. "What?" she rasped, voice rougher than before, like she was trying to catch up to the shift in energy.

You just smiled as you traced your fingers down the line of her toned stomach, manicured nails ghosting over her skin.

“Just thinking,.." you murmured, pressing a teasing kiss just below her jaw, "That an album of the year winner deserves a proper celebration."

Ellie blinked, eyes flickering between disbelief and hunger. "Oh—"

You didn’t give her a chance to finish. Instead, you pinned her down completely, pressing your weight into her, reveling in the way her breath hitched. Her hands gripped at your sides like she wasn’t sure whether to stop you or pull you closer.

"You good?" you asked, voice softer now, even as your hands moved with strong intent.

Ellie let out a shaky exhale, her lips curving between a smirk and a dazed expression. "Didn’t think you’d—fuck—take over like this."

You grinned against her skin, kissing your way southbound, taking your time.

"Better get used to it, rockstar."

Ellie let out a breathy chuckle, but it melted into something deeper when you pressed another kiss lower, trailing down her stomach with a kind of unhurried confidence that made her body tense beneath you.

"Shit…" she muttered, voice caught somewhere between surprise and anticipation.

You smirked against her skin, hands gripping her thighs as you settled between them. "Relax, baby" you murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against the inside of her knee. "Just let me take care of you."

"I'm just… not used to this," she admitted, quiet. 

You glanced up, meeting her gaze as your lips grazed just above the waistband of her pants, breath warm against skin. Your voice barely above a whisper, but settling deep into her bones.

“Then just feel, Els.”

You don’t give her time to think, pulling them down her boxers and pants in a quick move. A sharp inhale punches from her lungs as cool air kisses the heat between her legs, making her jolt. 

She exhales shakily, thighs bracketing your head, warm and freckled—constellations scattered across skin you want to map out with your hands, your mouth, your entire being.

If you were in a different headspace, you’d trace each one like a star chart, but right now, the only thing you can focus on is her—trembling above you, caught between restraint and surrender.

But the real sound—the one that sets your pulse hammering—is the gasp she lets out when you spit, a slick warmth against her aching clit.

“F-fuck…” she breathes, brows knitting together, voice unsteady.

You glance up at her, fingers flexing against her thighs. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Her jaw tightens, a mix of frustration and need flashing behind her darkened eyes. “Nothing.” It’s a lie, and you both know it. She’s unraveling, and she’s impatient.

A smirk tugs at your lips as you let your fingers drift, tracing lazy patterns up her waist, feeling the way her stomach tenses beneath your touch.

“Tell me...” you tease, voice smooth, coaxing. “Use your words.”

Her body betrays her, arching ever so slightly towards you, silently pleading for more.

Then, finally, she gives in.

“Just—” Her voice cracks as she shifts, movements becoming more desperate. “God, just— please.”

Holy. Shit.

Ellie motherfucking Williams—flushed, wrecked, and now begging like she needs you more than her next breath—is a sight so devastatingly hot, it short-circuits every thought that was left on your head. 

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t on your bingo card.

The way she’s unraveling beneath you is something you’ll never forget. And if the raw, desperate way she’s looking at you is any indication, it’s an ego boost you’ll be riding for the rest of your life.

You smirk as her breath stutters when you drag your fingers lower, sliding through the warmth of pussy, slick and ready from both you and her own burning need. 

It’s intoxicating—the way she reacts, the way she shudders at the slightest touch. You don’t hesitate, don’t waste a second before lowering your mouth to her, claiming her like it’s the only thing you were made to do.

The moment your tongue finds her, she keens—a sharp, needy sound punched from the depths of her chest before she could stop it. And just as she starts to adjust, just as her body begins to find some semblance of rhythm, you push deeper, tongue slipping inside, filling every soft, sensitive place that has her thighs trembling.

Ellie chokes on a moan, hands flying to your hair, fingers tangling, pulling, her grip desperate and unsteady as her hips jerk upward, chasing the friction. 

“J-Jesus Christ, babe,” she gasps, voice wrecked.

You hum against her, the vibrations pulling another strangled sound from her lips. Her thighs twitch, threatening to close around your head, but your hands tighten against her hips, holding her steady, guiding her through every wave of pleasure that crashes over her.

Your own clit pulses, desperate for attention, but it’s the last thing on your mind. Not when your face is buried between the thighs of the woman you can finally love freely— and that just happens to be the most famous rockstar in the world at the moment.

"You're—fuck—you’re insane," she pants, voice breathy, desperate. But she doesn’t push you away. She never does.

And God, she never wants to.

Her fingers flex against the sheets as your other hand drags down her stomach, dropping to trace fast circles on her clit, her breath catching at the sensation.

Your grip tightens, grounding her as she chases it—hips rolling, breath shattering, body tightening like a bowstring drawn too tight. Every sound she makes is addictive, every gasp, every bitten-off whimper, every choked-out curse. 

She’s using your face like her own personal masturbation pillow, grinding down like she was made for this, and you swear—if this is how you go out, you’d die the happiest person alive.

“Holy shit– I-I’m gonna–”

And then—she falters.

You feel her orgasm before it fully takes hold—the way she twitches, the way she clenches around your tongue, her entire body locking up as the tension inside her snaps. Then, the release floods your senses, warm and intoxicating, dripping down your chin. It’s sweet. Best thing you’ve ever tasted.

But you don’t stop.

You keep going, your fingers still drawing slow patterns on her clit, your mouth still drinking up every last drop until she’s shuddering, gasping, her fingers weakly tugging at your hair in protest.

Only when she whimpers—spent, trembling— you finally relent, pressing one final kiss to her ruined cunt before using your tongue to clean her up with reverent care.

Her chest rises and falls with deep, uneven breaths, and a final shudder runs through her as she tries—fails—to gather herself.

Silence lingers, thick and electric, the only sound between you the sharp pull of ragged breaths.

Then Ellie mutters, voice rough, wrecked, “You’re so fucking—”

A slow, satisfied grin tugs at your lips as you press a lazy, lingering kiss to the inside of her thigh. “Incredible? Talented? The best you’ve ever had?”

Ellie groans, throwing an arm over her face with an exasperated huff. “Yeah. That—and insufferable.”

You chuckle, fingers tracing idle patterns along the warm skin of her hip, reveling in the way she shivers under your touch.

She peeks at you through the mess of auburn hair, cheeks still flushed, lips still parted, eyes heavy with something you recognize all too well.

She looks fucked out. She looks beautiful.

And then, to your surprise, she smirks.

“But I hope you’re ready for payback.”

And yeah.

You know you’re screwed when Ellie buckles up her dark purple strap—the one you know way too well by now. When her fingers work the straps, tightening them with practiced ease, she rolls her shoulders like she’s getting ready for something intense. 

But more than anything, it’s the way she looks at you—like she’s already imagining you undone beneath her, like she’s savoring every second before she ruins you.

There’s heat in her gaze, yes, but there’s something softer too, something intimate in the way her hands settle on your hips, grounding you, claiming you.

Her index finger slowly traces the curve of your spine, touch featherlight as she guides you forward, nudging you onto your hands and knees. You shiver under her touch, your body hypersensitive, still buzzing from the way she fingered you minutes before.

“Fuck,” she murmurs as she kneels behind you. Her hands trace along your waist, slow and steady. “You look so fucking pretty like this.”

Your breath catches when she presses closer, her chest warm against your back, the silicone nudging against your entrance. 

She takes her time, dragging it along your slick heat, teasing, making you feel every inch before she even pushes in. Her lips find your shoulder, pressing soft, deliberate nibbles and kisses there, a contrast to the overwhelming need that thrums between you.

“Tell me you want it”

You exhale, arching your back against her, craving the connection, the feeling of being completely filled by her. 

“I want it,” you breathe, tilting your head just enough to catch her gaze over your shoulder, eyes soft, pleading—the doe-eyed look you know she loves. “I need you, Ellie.”

A quiet curse slips from her lips—almost reverent.

She has never been good at restraint.

So with one steady thrust, she gives you exactly what you need.

Ellie groans as she sinks into you, her fingers tightening around your hips, like she’s trying to hold herself back, to ease you into it, to savor the moment. But you both know better.

Patience has never been her strong suit—especially not when it comes to you.

“Shittt” she mutters under her breath, rolling her hips forward, filling you inch by inch. You can feel how tense she is, how hard she’s gripping you, like she’s trying to stop herself from losing control too soon.

Your arms tremble beneath you, a loud moan leaving your lips as she sets a slow, deliberate rhythm, dragging every inch of her strap against your sensitive walls. The stretch is perfect, the pressure just enough to make your toes curl, to make your breath hitch in your throat.

Ellie leans in, her chest flush against your back, her breath warm as it fans over your shoulder. 

“You take me so damn well…” she murmurs, her voice rough but tender, like she’s not just saying it to tease—but because she means it. “Always so good f’me.”

A sharp, breathy moan spills from your lips as your forehead presses into the pillow, your body caught in the push and pull of pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable.

Ellie feels it. The way you tense, the way you tremble. She hears it in the way your breathing turns ragged, in the way you press back against her, desperate for more.

She breathes, her voice thick, possessive. “That’s my girl.”

The words send a whole new wave of heat crashing through you, your body tightening, teetering right on the edge. You can feel it, that overwhelming, dizzying pleasure building, threatening to pull you under.

But just when you think she’s going to push you over, she slows.

Your whole body jerks, a desperate whimper escaping you as she pulls out completely, leaving you empty, aching.

“What the hell?” you pant, your voice rough with need as you glance back at her with half-lidded, dazed eyes.

Ellie just smirks, looking entirely too pleased with herself as she settles back on her heels, her hands smoothing over your hips. Her green eyes are dark, intense—but there’s something warm there, too.

“Ya know what?” she murmurs, voice soft but certain. “I wanna try something new. C’mere”

She tugs you gently, guiding you up, and you let her. Your legs are shaky as you shift, turning to face her, straddling her lap. The toy presses between you, warm where it’s caught between your bodies, but all you can focus on is Ellie—on the way her hands settle on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh teasingly.

“That’s better,” she murmurs. “Wanted to see that gorgeous face when you fall apart for me.”

And that’s when you know exactly what she wants—to watch you take control, to watch you break her in the best possible way.

So you don’t give her the chance to tease, to taunt. Instead, you reach down without a word, wrap your fingers around the base of the strap, and sink onto it in one slow, deliberate motion.

Ellie curses under her breath, her fingers gripping your ass tighther as she tilts her head back, watching—completely mesmerized, completely wrecked.

She lets you set the pace, lets you take what you need, and the way she looks at you under the dim light—like you’re something holy, untouchable—sends a fresh wave of heat straight through you.

“Fuckkk,” she rasps, the base of the strap bumping perfectly against her aching clit. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You smirk, breathless, rolling your hips just to watch her shiver beneath you. Then you cup her jaw, tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet your gaze.

“Yeah?” you murmur, voice dripping, dangerously sweet. You drag your thumb along her bottom lip, watching her shudder. “Then I hope you’re ready to go out like this.”

Ellie groans, and you swallow the sound as you kiss her, deep and slow, letting her feel exactly what she’s done to you.

Your body moves like it was made for this—for her. Every slow, deliberate roll of your hips has Ellie sinking deeper into the mattress, her hands gripping your hips and ass with a desperation that only makes you want to push her further.

She breathes, eyes flickering between where your bodies meet and your face. “Look at you… riding me like you own me.”

You smirk, dragging your nails down her stomach before bracing your hands on her chest, using her body for leverage as you start to move faster, harder. Ellie groans beneath you, her head tipping back, auburn hair splaying across the pillow as she lets you take control.

“S-so deep,” you murmur, voice breathy, teasing.

Ellie’s fingers twitch against your skin, her pupils blown wide as she watches you move. “Yeah?” she rasps, voice rough, wrecked, barely holding herself together.

She swears she’s never seen anything more perfect.

The way your body moves—hips rolling, muscles tensing, sweat-dampened skin glowing under the dim light—it’s enough to ruin her. Her hands roam over you like she doesn’t know what to grab onto first—your waist, your thighs, the soft curve of your ass.

Fuck.

Your tits.

The way they bounce with every sharp snap of your hips, the way your nipples harden as she rolls and pinchs them in her fingers, the way your chest rises and falls with every shuddering breath—it’s mesmerizing.

And your face, flushed and blissed out, lips parted on gasping little moans that are just for her.

She swears she could die like this, buried so deep inside you she doesn’t know where she ends and you begin, wrapped up in you so completely she could stay here forever.

Her jaw clenches, her own pleasure building fast, unbearable, threatening to pull her under right along with you. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” she babbles, completely lost.

And that when she finally loses control.

She sits up, arms locking around you, pulling you down until there’s not a breath of space left between you. She thrusts her hips up to meet yours, matching your rhythm. Your slick bodies press together, burning hot, every frantic rise and fall of your chests syncing as she slams into you, deeper, harder.

The new angle knocks the air from your lungs, your mouth falling open on a strangled gasp.

Ellie holds you tight, so tight it feels like she’s afraid you’ll slip away—like if she lets go, even for a second, she might wake up and find you were never here at all.

“Jesus fucking christ…” she murmurs, hands roaming over you like she can’t decide where to touch first. Every inch of you belongs to her, and she’s claiming you with every pass of her palms, every hungry grip of her fingers. “Taking everything I give you—fuck– you’re so good f'me.”

You whimper, thighs trembling as you grind down, chasing the pressure, the fullness, the fire curling low in your stomach.

Ellie groans, the sound reverberating through you as she buries her face in your neck, her lips dragging over your pulse, over sweat-slicked skin.

“You were made for this,” she breathes, voice wrecked, reverent. “Made for me.”

Your moan catches in your throat, fingers tangling in her hair, tugging just enough to drag a low, broken hiss from her lips. “Ellie—”

She cuts you off with her mouth, swallowing your gasps, your pleas, kissing you so deep it steals what little breath you have left.

“Say it,” she murmurs, voice rough, cracking at the edges. “Say you’re mine.”

And you do—because you are.

“I-I’m yours, Ellie!”

A sound rips from her chest—low, guttural, wrecked—like the words just undid something deep inside her. Her grip tightens, arms locking around you as if she could pull you into her, fuse you together, make you hers in every possible way.

Then her fingers move—slow at first, teasing—before pressing down just right against your clit, sending a sharp bolt of pleasure through you.

“Come on, baby,” she urges, her free hand splaying across your back, pressing you closer, until you’re nearly one, until your forehead is against hers, your breath mixing with hers. “Let me have it.”

And you do.

Your whole body jolts like a live wire, a choked gasp breaking free as the tension inside you snaps too fast, your release drenching her lower stomach. Your thighs tighten around her, fingers clutching at her back, at her shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as heat builds, swells, consumes you.

You can’t think, can’t speak—you can only feel. Ellie beneath you, inside you, around you, anchoring you even as she pushes you to the brink, holding you steady as you come undone.

She swears she’s never seen anything more beautiful.

Her own release follows fast and hard, a deep groan rumbling through her chest as her hips jerk up into yours one last time. Her arms tighten around you as she buries her face in your neck, her breath hot and uneven against your sweat-damp skin.

For a long moment, you just hold each other—panting, trembling, completely spent.

Her fingers trail over your spine, slow and steady, tracing mindless patterns against your sweat-slicked skin. She presses a lingering kiss to your temple, whispering something too soft for you to catch, but you don’t need to hear it. You feel it.

When she finally pulls back enough to meet your eyes, she looks completely wrecked—but softer now, vulnerability flickering beneath the haze of pleasure.

“You okay, love?” she murmurs, her voice low and raspy.

You nod, still catching your breath. “Yeah,” you whisper, pressing closer. “More than okay.”

She huffs a quiet laugh against your skin, fingers trailing lazily down your spine. “Kinda wrecked you, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing lilt in her voice makes you smile. “Shut up. That was a team effort.”

Ellie grins, but then she pulls back just enough to see your face, brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead. Her touch is so gentle, so careful, like she’s still grounding you, making sure you’re okay.

“No, really,” she says, softer now. “You good?”

The tenderness in her voice makes your chest tighten. You cup her cheek, thumb brushing over the freckles beneath her eye.

“I promise,” you murmur. “I feel perfect.”

She studies you for a second longer, then nods, satisfied. “Yeah. You look perfect.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as Ellie shifts, exhaling softly as she reaches down to undo the harness still strapped around her hips. Her fingers work it off with practiced ease, the leather slipping away before she tosses it aside like an afterthought. Only then does she move, slipping away just long enough to grab a warm, damp cloth.

She cleans you up with that same effortless care—gentle, thorough, her eyes flicking up to yours every so often, like she’s making sure you’re still right here with her. When she’s done, she tosses the cloth aside, and she pulls you into her arms again, tucking you against her chest like she never wants to let go.

Ellie’s fingers stroke your arm, slow and soothing, tracing patterns only she knows. Her touch is grounding, familiar, safe.

Then, softly, like a truth that has always existed between you, she says it again.

But now it's not in a panicked confession. Not in a speech meant for the world to hear.

But here. Now. After the most intimate, most vulnerable moment two people can share.

“Love you.”

It’s not hesitant or uncertain. There’s no grand declaration, no embellishment—just those two words, simple and solid, like she’s always known them to be true. Like saying them is the easiest thing in the world.

Your breath catches. For a second, the world seems to still around you. When you glance up, she’s already watching, waiting—not nervously, not fearfully, but open. Bare. Like she’s laying her heart right there between you, trusting you to hold it, to keep it safe.

You don’t hesitate.

A tender smile spreads across your lips as you press your forehead to hers, closing the small space that still remains. 

“Love you too,” you whisper, the words slipping out like they’ve been waiting forever to be said again. “So fucking much.”

Ellie tilts her head, kissing you slow, savoring, like she has all the time in the world. Her fingers lace with yours, holding on like she never wants to let go. You feel her heartbeat under your palm—steady, real. Yours.

She swallows, voice softer now, full of something fragile and new. “Can’t believe we can finally say that to each other now.”

You blink up at her, your own chest tightening at the weight of it.

“I know,” you admit. “Feels unreal, doesn’t it?”

The past months settle between you—every stolen glance, every touch that lingered too long, every moment spent pretending not to be hopelessly, helplessly in love with each other.

Ellie exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “We spent so much time pretending,” she murmurs, her fingers tightening slightly around yours. “So much time making it look real for everyone else.” She pauses, searching your face, like she needs to make sure you understand. “And it was real. This whole time.”

You nod, brushing a hand down her arm, grounding her just as much as she’s grounding you. “Yeah. We’ve been real stupid.”

She hesitates, lips parting like she wants to say more, but something holds her back. You don’t push. Instead, you press a soft kiss to her jaw, reassuring, anchoring.

“But we’re here now,” you whisper. “We have this. No more pretending.”

Ellie’s eyes soften, and you watch the last of her walls crumble. “Yeah,” she breathes, voice steady, sure. “No more pretending.”

Her arms stay wrapped around you, bodies pressed together, bare skin against bare skin, as if letting even a sliver of space between you might shatter the fragile, beautiful truth of this moment. As if, after everything, neither of you can bear the thought of slipping away now that you’ve finally found your way back to each other.

Then, almost so quiet you barely hear it, she says it.

“…Be my girlfriend.”

You freeze, breath catching in your throat. You shift just enough to meet her gaze, and what you see there makes your chest ache—hope, something that you’ve never seen in her eyes before.

“For real this time,” she continues, voice steadier now. “No more PR, no more rules. No more of that fake bullshit.” Her thumb brushes your knuckles like she’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Just us.”

The moment hangs between you, charged, heavy with everything you’ve been waiting for.

And it’s terrifying, how easy it is to say yes.

You cup her face, running your thumb over the curve of her cheekbone, memorizing every freckle, every tiny detail. 

“Ellie,” you whisper, searching her gaze, letting her see everything—every quiet yearning, every moment you spent wishing for this. 

“I’ve always been yours.”

Her breath stutters, something breaking open in her expression. She looks at you like she’s seeing the world for the first time, like she can’t quite believe you’re real.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, almost disbelieving.

You nod, leaning in until your foreheads touch. “Yeah.”

A slow, relieved smile spreads across her lips, and when she kisses you again, it’s different—it’s certain, deep, filled with a quiet promise.

When you finally pull away, her arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. And for the first time, there’s no distance between you. No barriers, no walls—just the two of you, completely and utterly tangled together.

“Just you and me,” Ellie murmurs against your skin, her voice like a vow. “Finally.”

And as your bodies press closer, as your hearts collide, you know—this is where you were always meant to be.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑟 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑥 → taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo @elliesbabygirl @xx2849 @kiiramiz @mikellie @brooks-lin @kaykeryyy @lovely-wisteria @marscardigan @elliesanqel @lovelaymedown @gold-dustwomxn @ilovewomenfr @seraphicsentences @mascspleasegetmepregnant @raindroprose23 @creepyswag  @jujueilish @elliesgffrfr @kirammanss @liztreez @catrapplesauces @livvietalks @furtherrawayy @thatchosen1 @kanadadryer @littlerosiesthings @eriiwaii @firefly-ace @redlightellie @elliepoems @sabrinathewitchh982 @shady-lemur @jubileexoxo

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ OMFG GUYS. THIS CHAPTER IS THE LONGEST THING I HAVE EVER WROTE IN MY LIFE, so TYSM IF YOU READ IT ALL. I did like 100 FUCKING PROOFREADS, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

[shroomyv]

ᢉ𐭩GOOD BOY(‘S) [1]

Pairing: mark grayson x sinister mark x Mohawk mark x viltrumite mark x F!reader (god damn)

Synopsis: been awhile since the invincible war ended. A few of them ended up being captured in your world and kept in the prisons. Cecil allows you to visit them and (clearly) has not a damn clue as to what you’re saying or doing with them. Usually, it’d be complete chaos and nothing would change or happen in the room. However, you finally try something new with them…all of them…(should be good to mention here that you have powers…if u didn’t you’d honestly be stupid going into that room with confidence 🧍🏾‍♀️)

Warnings: story will lead to smut, slightly suggestive, harsh words (like bitch, pussy, or slut), not proofread, some corny dialogue (bear with me pls)

W.c: 2,086 (rlly doing my big one)

A/N: (there’s alot I have to say so pls bear with me 😭) first off, thank all of u for all the constant support on my other fics and even my shitty little doodles I posted. Means a lot to me. This is my first series/series writing and it’s also the first fic I’ve made with multiple ppl speaking let alone mark variants. So I’m begging you, please bear with me. If anything is overly fucking terrible or bad feel free to dm me advice. Also I’ll be making a master list soon for all my writings. Or wtv. This is part one to the series and it’ll get super smutty in the next one so I hope u js enjoy this one for now. It’ll be meh…(I highkey think it’s bad but wtv)

Long after the Invincible War, you were still intrigued by all the versions of your boyfriend that had come into your world to reek havoc and chaos. Most were dead, some were in prison, and some were thrown into whatever place they went to. Being a superpowered scientist under Cecil had its perks–you got to not only examine and see these variants, but you also got to speak to them (only with the supervision of your world's Mark of course). Your visits grew more and more frequent to them, it went from once a month, to once a week, to 3 times a week. They had memorized the times you visited, the clack of your heels, and your pen clicking before you entered their cell each time.

Your Mark always complained–sometimes it was genuine concern for your safety and reasoning, other times, it was clear and blatant jealousy. 

“Why do you always want to go see those bastards, they almost destroyed the entire world. Not only that one of them almost crushed you to fucking death! If this gets too bad we're not seeing them again…” he was annoyed–making good and fair points. Sadly, you were too stubborn to attempt to listen to them. 

“You've almost crushed me to death before,” you said with a shrug as you kept walking down the long hall getting ready to get to the cell that held the marks. 

“WHAT!? When was this?” Mark had stopped for a second now having genuine concern as he hadn't remembered ever doing that. He tried his best to make sure you were protected from anything and everything.

“You crushed me plenty of times in bed–it's ok though because I've crushed you back just as much so we're even.” you had one smug ass smirk on your face seeing Mark's annoyed one before you two finally made it to the room. Before you could swipe your keycard to enter the room, Mark grabbed your arm having you stop and listen to what he had to say. “I'm serious babe…let them get out of line and we aren't seeing them again, they'll just rot in here till Cecil finds something to do with them.” 

You used your free hand, swiping the keycard as the door opened. You turned to your mark lifting his chin with your pen as he looked prepared to hear whatever you had to say. 

“I will decide when this research is over. However, you know if you want it to truly end and for me to stay out of this cell, you would only need to tell Cecil you won't accompany me anymore. Until you do that…we're continuing.” 

You were stern and stubborn, meaning every single word you said. You finally pulled the pen down—giving his cheek a soft kiss before walking into the cell.

“Well, we see who wears the pants in your little relationship.” The mark with the mohawk said before he just started laughing trying to bother and mock your mark as best as he could. 

“Hey well at least I get to leave here, I'm not locked in a fucking cell with my arms hanging up!” your mark snarled back–getting closer to Mohawk Mark as they glared each other down.

Sinister Mark cut into the conversation, having a lot worse to say about your mark and his “submission” to you. 

“Hey, does she fuck you too? I just wanna get a full scope on how pussy you are! God, you're pathetic…weak…” 

They were being little assholes ganging up against your mark, all besides the viltrumite one. He was just silent, observing your behaviors. As those 3 bickered,  you walked up to him with crossed arms.

“Nothing to say?” You asked leaning in closer to his face. He backed up as best as he could, struggling to even move a bit because of his restraints but he found small ways. 

“No…bitch…” he said before scrunching up his lips. You just leaned into him closer and closer knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “Don’t your people have a thing for respecting higher-ups? Am I not higher up right now?” You were absolutely smug watching as his expression kind of dropped. He knew you were right and he hated every bit about it. 

The cell was silent now…the other marks wondered why he stopped fighting back, falling silent. 

“Don’t tell me you're all pussy now too!?” Mohawk Mark had said in a snarky tone. Your mark was walking up to you to pull you back from him. You raised your hand stopping him from coming closer as you used your other hand, softly rubbing viltrumite Mark'sk'sace. 

He jolted from your touch for a second—not being used to anything like it at all. However, he had been in that cold cell for days, weeks even, with no warmth whatsoever. He melted into your hand as you kept rubbing it softly—he felt odd…like he had never felt before. He released soft huffs the whole time until you finally stepped back. 

“W..wait-“ he exclaimed trying to get your attention again. Before he could even say what he wanted, sinister Mark butted in.

“What the hell did you just do to him!? He’s never been like that ever!” 

Your mark wanted to be filled in as well, waiting for your response.

“I just touched 'em relax.” You were honestly shocked yourself. 

“C'monn…let’s go, your mark said wanting to get the hell out of there. The other marks were getting angry and you were touching another mark…one that wasn’t yours—it made him a bit jealous. 

                                      

“Wait wait…I wanna something…” you said with a grin as you rushed to Mohawk Mark. He looked a bit annoyed but intrigued. You drew closer and closer as the other marks watched once again—it’s all they could do…

“Listen whore, I’m not your mark…so hands off.” He said in a snarky tone. You just kept moving your hands towards his face not giving a damn, you were testing every ounce of patience he had.

“I will fucking bite you! I promise it…” Mohawk Mark tried to move his head back as quickly as he could to get away from your hand. Eventually, it landed right on his forehead before moving upward, softly stroking his hair. He tried to bite you for a second so you used your powers. With a hard glare from your eyes, his body was paralyzed in mere seconds as you rubbed it softly. You released your hold on his body just as fast as you used it.

You kept stroking his head, you saw him moving his head forward as best as he could so you could keep going. Your other hand reached up to his face, squishing it softly before you began to stroke it. He let out a noise of pure satisfaction…a soft moan. As soon as he realized, you backed up satisfied with your work on his behavior. He went from snarling and snapping to melting in your hand.

Your mark grabbed your shoulder, making a notation to get the hell out of there. You just gave him a soft kiss trying to keep him satisfied as you had one more mark to deal with. You knew your mark was getting jealous quickly so you had to hurry it up.

As soon as you walked over to sinister mark in his restraints he spat on your face. The other marks watched waiting to see what happened your mark dashed over to you as he began a screaming match with sinister mark. 

Ignoring them and all their noise, you just spat right back on his face as the room fell silent. You were even now—the only difference was you could wipe the spit off of your face but he couldn’t get it off of his. Your hand reached up to his face as he prepared to bite you but you flicked his nose before continuing. You rubbed his hair—making it messy in mere seconds before you looked him dead in the eyes, smiling warmly.

“I promise you, if you ever spit on my face again I will break your face in.”

Your mark was just frozen in the spot waiting for this interaction to finish. Sinister Mark's eyes widened a bit before going back to normal—he was surprised at how you could look so gentle while threatening him. 

“Yes bitch…” he said in a snarky tone trying to get some power back in the situation. You smiled before pinching and twisting at his nose. He couldn’t do a single damn thing about it.

“Huh? What’d you say?” You waited for him to change his manner of speaking. Your mark reached to pull your arm down as you 2 shared a look. He was trying to figure out what you were even doing but you gave him a glance that said you could handle it.

“Yes…ma’am” sinister Mark said in an annoyed tone this was basically his version of surrendering defeat. Your hand went to his face stroking it just like you did to the others. At first he acted like he didn’t give a single fuck about you or your touch—seconds later he was melted into your cheek moving his own face to have it happen faster. You stroked his face slower and began scratching his hair as Mohawk Mark began complaining how that wasn’t fair. Sinister mark was losing himself—lifting his chin to have that touch and rubbed to. He bit his lip trying to keep in any sounds he would’ve made but eventually one slipped out.

“F…fuck…” he moaned out roughly before you moved your hand away from him

“Good boy.” You said back with bliss in your voice. You honestly felt aroused by the fact you had 4 Marks folding for you just at the simple touch of your hand and sternness in your voice.

“God…what did she do to us…” Viltrumite Mark said sounding embarrassed or even frustrated that that even happened. The other Marks (sinister and Mohawk) just told him to “fuck off” as they kept their heads down in a bit of shame. They were absolutely in shock at how they folded that fast but knew they wanted more. They were pissed that they clearly weren’t getting more.

You had them fold enough for the day. Plus, your Mark looked like he wanted to snap sinister Mark's neck for spitting on you. He was tired of being in that damn room for the day. Your mark grabbed you by the waist giving you a look that said “You needed to leave” You just nodded and let him lead you out of the cell. You and your mark left the cell making your way out of the building. Mark was flying you 2 home as he wanted to talk about what the hell happened. 

“So…what was that..” he asked in a genuine and jealous tone. He wanted to know what was up with all of it. Why did you guys keep going back, why were you touching them, how did you make them fold that easily? He wanted answers…

“Honestly…I don’t know. I didn't even think it’d work on the viltrumite one but as soon as it did I just had to try it on the rest of them and it worked. Guess you’re just weak for me in every universe?” You gave the best answer you could to your mark waiting for his response.

“Not gonna lie…I was a bit jealous. They practically killed everyone and now they wanted to fold just cause you touched them!” Mark exclaimed before you kissed his face softly. He had calmed down quickly just from your lips. 

“Relax... you're the one who gets to take me home. You win either way. However...I do need you to take me back there tomorrow. It’s something I wanna do with you there. All of you…” you had something a little sinister and against the rules on your mind.

“Again!? What is it…I’m so sick of that place…” your mark wanted to know what you’d do if you went back. He was tired of going there and honestly was ready to never go back again. However, he was trying his best to trust your judgment and see where it’d go. 

“Don’t worry about it…just know that you’ll have fun. All of you, trust me. You said with a smile before Mark finally landed, bringing you two to your house. You had plans…foul plans…and you couldn’t wait to put them into action tomorrow. 

[ultraviolete-jaz]

im obsesssed with birth of venus drawings its so fun to see different artist's take on the same subject!

even though the original description said that venus was born from the sea foams formed from uranus's dick thrown in to the sea(chopped off by his own son btw), a lot of the paintings involve seashells. which made me feel like she was formed like a pearl and just popped out. its really funny imagining the shell slowly opens and revealing venus like a wedding ring in a box or the mermaid show from the stardew valley winter night market

The Birth of Venus by Henry Courtney Selous (1852)

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 48: Wild Times

Summary: Things begin changing between you and your pack as someone says goodbye.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,518 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, smut, anal sex, oral sex, handjobs, cockwarming, teasing, lots of kissing, language, slight dom/sub dynamics, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alternate universe, emotions, slight angst

A/N: I wrote this in like two days so forgive me if it sucks

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“How do you feel?”

“Good. I feel really good.” You say honestly.

“Good. You’ve come a long way and I’m very proud of you for the progress you’ve made.” Dr. Keller says. The two of you are sitting out on the back porch. It’s a nice day, the sun out after a few days of rain and clouds.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to tell me something.” You say, staring at her. She almost looks nervous, the professional facade cracking just a little bit. Just enough that you can tell something is going on.

“I do have something I need to tell you.” She says after a moment. “You’ve come a long way, you’ve overcome hurdles and grown so much in the time that I’ve known you. I’m so very proud of you, but...I’m not sure how much more I can do for you now.”

You expected this was coming. With your life turning around as it has recently, with the growth between you and your pack and your healing after the ordeal, you knew there would come a time when Dr. Keller would leave. There’s no point to her staying here with you, now that Shepherd is gone and things have calmed down.

“Things are going to change here soon,” she continues. “And I’m not sure how much more you’re going to need me for. You’re doing so well and your pack has improved so much over these last few weeks. I’m so very proud of all of you and the work you’ve put in. I think you’re ready to graduate from needing an omega specialist.”

You try to fight the tears gathering in your eyes. You don’t want her to go. As much as you understand and you know, you don’t feel like letting her go yet. You’d cling to her forever if you could, but you know that’s all the more reason for her to go now. She’s done more than she should have, more than she needed to and no doubt she’s feeling that need to move on as well. It makes your stomach ache, but at the same time, you understand.

“I don’t feel like I am,” you say honestly. “But at the same time I know it’s not fair to keep you here. You’ve done so much for us, for me, and...and I want you to know that I’m forever grateful for that.”

“I know.” She says, giving you a smile. Despite it there’s a sadness in her eyes. She has to be torn about this too. The two of you have bonded so much in the year that you’ve been seeing her. It hurts breaking that bond, but at the same time, it’s a necessity. “I’ll always be here for you, but I have to move on to other things.”

“Where are you going to go?” You ask, trying not to cry. You’ve never been good at goodbyes. It’s probably the trauma.

“I’ve accepted a position in Exeter at a clinic.” She says.

“Exeter as in close to Ashley?” You give her a knowing look.

That bashful look crosses her face again, and for the first time she breaks eye contact, looking down at her lap.

“I’m happy for you,” you continue. “I really am. Technically if the two of you get together you’ll be extended family.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re not wrong.” She looks back up at you, smiling softly. “You’re taking this better than I expected.”

“I knew it was coming, in a way.” You say. “It would happen eventually. Things really are changing and now that Shepherd’s gone...there’s nothing holding us here. We’ll have to return to the real world eventually. As much as I’d like to be selfish, I know there’s other omegas out there that deserve to have your help.”

She reaches out, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “You’ve always been so sweet, so caring. I’m honored I got to serve as your omega specialist. I am so very proud of you and I always will be.” She squeezes your hand harder. “You have my number. You need anything you call me, okay?”

You nod, tears blurring your vision despite your fight to hold them back. “Yeah. I will.”

“Good.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, tears welling in hers as well.

You reach over, pulling her into a hug. It probably breaks some sort of doctor/patient boundary, but after everything the two of you have been through, you’re willing to break past that realm of professionalism.

You breathe in her comforting scent one last time, burying it in your memories. You’ll always remember her and what she did for you, the ways she helped you overcome the lies drilled into your head, how she helped you grow into your own person. She kept you alive, helped you heal from a traumatic event. She kept you sane, helped you realize just how powerful you truly are and that you shouldn’t be afraid of your pack and taking charge.

You’ll be forever grateful for having her in your life.

“Take care of each other.” Dr. Keller says, standing next to the car. “I don’t want to get any calls with bad news.”

“We’ll do our best.” John says, his arm around your waist.

She looks over your pack before nodding. “Some part of me doesn’t want to believe you, but a bigger part of me knows you’re telling the truth.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done.” John says, his grip around you tight. “We are forever in your debt.”

Dr. Keller smiles, it’s a sad smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “I was just doing my job.”

“You did more than that.” Kyle says. “Far more.”

Dr. Keller stands there for a moment before nodding. “I suppose so. I wouldn’t take any of it back, though.” She looks over you once more, her eyes pausing in you for a long moment.

“We’ll take good care of her.” John says, his arm sliding from your waist to wrap around your shoulder. “If not, we give you full rights to come back and take her from us.”

Dr. Keller gives him a pointed look. “I’ll hold you to that.” She opens the car door, letting out a heavy breath. “You have my number. Don’t hesitate to call. Good luck to you and whatever is coming next.”

“Best of luck to you as well.” John nods.

“Say hi to Ashley for me.” Kyle grins.

Dr. Keller rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” She gives you one last smile. “Take care. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You watch as she gets into the car, John’s grip around you tightening just a little. Tears start to blur your eyes as you watch the car disappear down the road until it’s out of sight. Two goodbyes in such a short amount of time has you feeling devastated, but at the same time, you know it’s for the best. It’s not like it’s forever. You’ll likely see both Dr. Keller and your family again in the future.

Yet you can’t deny the ache in your chest at watching them go.

John kisses the top of your head, his hands squeezing your arms. “You alright?” He murmurs against your hair.

You stand there for a moment, staring down the road before you nod. “Yeah. I will be.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Fine.” You shrug, marking your place in your book.

“It’s a big change.”

“I knew it was coming.” You shrug again, setting your book on your nightstand.

Kyle sinks down onto your bed, laying himself down against your pillows. “It’s okay to not be okay about this.”

You let out a sigh. “I mean, it’s sad that she left, but at the same time I’m happy she’s getting to go do what she wants now and is getting to help other omegas that need it. They’ll be lucky to have her. Ashley is lucky to have her.”

“They are a good couple.” Kyle says, reaching for your hand.

“Big power couple vibes.” You say, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m glad Ashley is part of the family. Your sister is an absolute angel.”

Kyle snorts. “You should have seen her growing up.”

“Everyone was a terror growing up.” You say, letting him pull you closer.

“Imagine Johnny as a kid.”

You both make a face, imagining the high-strung beta as a pup.

“No thanks.” You say, resting your head against his chest.

“You sure you’re alright?” He asks, wrapping an arm around you.

“Yeah. I will be.” You say. “It’ll take some getting used to, not having a personal therapist in the house.”

“We can get you a new one.” He says, patting your back.

“I think I’ll be okay.” You reach up, cupping his cheek. “You’re so sweet, caring about me like this.”

“Well, Christine has been a big part of your life for the last year.” He shrugs. “Just making sure you’re gonna be okay once she’s gone.”

“I’ll be fine. Just get ready to hear about my problems a lot more than you have been.” You grin.

“Oh good.” He playfully rolls his eyes.

“Rude.” You giggle, squeezing his side to tickle him.

“Hey!” He shouts, wiggling to try and get away from your hands.

Despite his size advantage you pull up a hazy memory of your training with Simon, wrapping a leg around his waist to force him over onto his back. You wind up sitting on top of him, your fingers dragging along his stomach to continue tickling him. He continues to laugh, playfully batting at your hands.

You wrap your fingers around his wrists, pinning them to the bed by his head. You lean over him, staring down at him as you pin him to the bed. He could easily get out of this, use his weight against you to force you up but he doesn’t, instead laying there limp under you.

“I quite like this angle.” He says, his eyes hooded as he stares up at you.

You smirk, leaning closer to him. “I’m sure you do.”

His arms flex under your hands, a reminder that he could easily flip the script and put you in this position. He doesn’t though, almost too happy to be pinned to the bed under you.

You lean down even further, your breath mingling with his. He tilts his head up, trying to kiss you but you hold back, not letting him have the satisfaction. His bottom lip puckers in a pout as you deny him what he wants.

“Been a long time.” He murmurs, pushing against your hands.

“For you maybe.” You say, but you can’t deny the warmth starting to pool in your stomach. It hasn’t been long for you, but it’s been a long while since you’ve been with the other members of your pack. You miss them. You miss all of them.

“Don’t mean to interrupt.”

Your head snaps to the side, looking back towards the door at the new voice. Simon stands there, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. His brows are raised, eyes trailing over you and Kyle.

He stays there for a moment before pushing off the frame, his steps slow as he approaches the bed. Neither you nor Kyle move, frozen there as the alpha stalks towards you. He looks like a hungry animal that’s caught its prey right where he wants it.

His hand is warm as it drags down your back, fingers pausing just above your tailbone. His other hand cups Kyle’s chin, fingers holding his jaw. “Pretty in’t he?” Simon mumbles, brushing his thumb across Kyle’s lips before pressing it between them.

Kyle parts his lips, taking Simon’s thumb into his mouth. You watch as he sucks on the appendage, still pinning him down on the bed. Simon’s hand slips beneath your pants, cupping your ass over your underwear as he leans in closer to you.

“What were you planning?” He murmurs into your ear, lips brushing the delicate skin. “A quickie before lunch? Like a couple of naughty pups?”

“Maybe.” You say, pushing back against his hand.

“Maybe?” He smirks. “Should have locked the door then.”

His teeth sink into your earlobe gently, and you can’t stop the shiver that runs down your spine. He pulls his thumb from Kyle’s mouth, trailing it down over his chin and his throat. His other hand sinks lower, fingers pressing between your legs.

“She likes this, you know?” He says to Kyle, feeling the dampness in your underwear. “Pretending to be dominant.” His hand closes around Kyle’s throat, fingers flexing just a little. “Then again, so do you.”

He pulls Kyle up to sit, forcing you to drop back into his lap. He’s hard, pressing between your thighs as you’re pushed up against his chest. Simon’s hand slips around to the back of Kyle’s neck, holding him in place.

“Just a couple of pretty pups playing pretend.” Simon says, glancing between you before leaning in to Kyle.

Your lips part as they kiss, Simon’s tongue sliding into Kyle’s mouth. Kyle moans, the sound vibrating through you. It’s a beautiful sight, watching them kiss. You hadn’t put much thought into them together before, even though you know it has happened in the past. They always seem to gravitate towards their respective mates naturally. The ideas floating around in your head have you gushing into your panties.

You let out a little whine of your own, hips pressing down against Simon’s fingers still resting between your legs. You’re getting wetter and wetter as you watch them kiss, Simon devouring Kyle’s mouth, all tongue and teeth as he teases the beta.

The sight has you clenching your thighs around Kyle’s hips, more slick gushing into your panties and wetting Simon’s fingers.

Simon hums against Kyle’s lips, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip before pulling back just slightly. “I think she likes it.”

Kyle groans, pushing his hips up against you. Simon presses his hand down, grinding it against the bulge in Kyle’s pants.

“I think you both like it.” Simon pushes Kyle’s head closer to yours and you get the memo, closing the distance to kiss him.

Simon lets out a breath as he watches the two of you kiss, his fingers stroking you through your panties. His scent is strong in the air, mixing with the scent of arousal wafting off of you and Kyle.

“Look at you.” he murmurs. “The two prettiest members of the pack together. What a sight.”

Kyle’s tongue flicks against your own, mimicking what you know he’s capable of doing to your pussy. You can’t stop the moan that sneaks out, Kyle swallowing the sound as he kisses you.

Simon hums before pulling his hand from your pants, wrapping that arm around your waist before lifting you off of Kyle. You let out a loud whine in protest as you’re pulled apart, struggling against him but he’s stronger than you. Kyle catches himself before he drops backwards as Simon lets him go, lifting you to your feet as he rises to his.

“Time for lunch.” He says, still holding you as you struggle against him.

“No fair!” You whine, going dead weight against him to try and slip out of his hold.

He chuckles, still holding you up easily. “Be a good girl and I’ll let you sit on his face later.”

You pause, thinking it over for a moment before pushing yourself up to stand straight. “Okay.” You slip out of his grasp, heading for the door and out into the living room.

Both John and Johnny look up as you come out of the room, no doubt the scent of your arousal strong in the air. There’s probably a cocktail of scents wafting through the door: yours, Kyle’s, and Simon’s.

Johnny sets down the bag of chips in his hand before bee-lining to you, nearly colliding with your body as he frantically presses his face into your neck.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” He groans, his hands dropping to hold your ass as he keeps you pressed against his chest.

Your body flushes as his tongue laves over your skin, licking up every drop of scent he can from your gland. A quiet sound leaves your lips as he sinks his teeth into your skin, almost like he’s trying to drink the scent of your arousal directly.

It’s almost too much after the stimulation you just received from Simon and Kyle. You could cum in your pants just like this, with Johnny’s hands gripping your ass, his boner poking you in the hip. He’ll probably cum in his pants if he keeps this up.

Johnny lets out a groan as a hand wraps around the back of his neck, pulling him away from you. You stumble as he tries to pull you, but his hands release your ass before you can fall. John holds him back, leaning over his shoulder as he scruffs the beta.

“None of that.” He chastises Johnny. “We have lunch to eat.”

“Fuck sandwiches,” Johnny groans. “Lay her out on tha table. Let me feast.”

“We spent all this time making a nice lunch and we’re going to eat it.” John says, releasing Johnny. “Now take a seat.” He pushes Johnny towards the table with a slap to his ass.

Johnny grumbles but acquiesces, making his way to his seat at the table.

John steps up to you, staring down at you intensely. Despite his insistence on the moment ending, you glimpsed the small bulge in his pants. You’re tempted to touch it, drag your hand across the denim to tease him, but you’re caught in his gaze. His hand lifts to your face, thumb tracing over your lips. You part them slightly, but he pulls away, crossing his arms as he stares down at you.

“Can you behave?” He asks.

No. You wouldn’t mind being spread out on the table for them to enjoy. But you know that’s not the answer he’s looking for. “Yes.” You nod.

“Good.” He turns you towards the table, sending you to your seat with a pat on the ass.

He turns to Simon and Kyle, both of them moving to their seats wordlessly.

Lunch is filled with a tense silence. You’re glad Dr. Keller has left with the way all five of your scents are thick in the air. It’s heavy with arousal, no doubt all four men sporting hard-ons under the table. The thought of sliding under there to suck them off one by one is tempting, but you’ll get in trouble. Not that punishment wouldn’t be worth it, but you’ll be good today.

At least for now.

Simon makes good on his promise.

Kyle’s lips are wrapped around your clit, suckling on the sensitive bud as you grind down against his face, hands braced on his chest. Simon has him nearly folded in half, tongue wrapped around yours as he snaps his hips against Kyle’s ass.

“Fucking hell.” Simon groans, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip as he thrusts hard into Kyle. Kyle moans against your clit, making your legs squeeze tighter around his head. “Make her cum and I’ll let you.” Simon grunts, his hand wrapped around the base of Kyle’s cock.

Kyle swirls his tongue around your clit before taking it between his lips again, sucking it hard. You’re already close from how long you’ve been here, perched over his face. He’s close too, hard and almost pulsing in Simon’s hand. Simon hasn’t let up once, fucking into him hard and fast. There’s sweat beaded across all of your bodies, sliding down your faces, dripping onto skin.

God it’s been so long.

“C’mon.” Simon grunts, holding himself back as well.

“Fuck,” You whine, legs shaking around Kyle’s head as he sucks hard on your clit, nipping at the sensitive bud with his teeth. You grind down against his mouth, his tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks on it one last time.

You cum, gushing all over his face with a cry.

Kyle moans against your pussy, licking up every drop of your juices as your nails sink into his chest.

“Good boy.” Simon praises, finally releasing Kyle’s cock. He lifts Kyle’s hips, changing the angle at which he’s thrusting into the beta. “Cum for me.”

Kyle’s body trembles, his hands tightening around your thighs as he gets closer and closer to the edge. You lean over, reaching down to grip his cock in your hand. He groans louder, twitching in your hand as you pump his cock in time with Simon’s thrusts.

It doesn’t take him long to cum, spurting against your hand and his stomach as he moans so beautifully. Simon curses, hands tightening around Kyle’s hips before he cums as well, spilling into Kyle’s ass.

You gather his cum on your fingers, sitting up on Kyle’s chest before bringing your fingers to your lips. You hold eye contact with Simon as you take them into your mouth, cleaning Kyle’s cum off your skin. Simon’s eyes are dark as he watches you, following the path of your tongue as it licks the viscous liquid off your hand.

His hand sinks into your hair, pulling you close to his mouth before kissing you. His tongue pushes into your mouth, licking at the remnants of Kyle’s cum on your tongue. You moan into his mouth, pressing closer to him. He kisses you for a moment before pulling away, pushing you over to the side.

You roll unceremoniously to the side, watching Simon lean over Kyle. His face is still shiny with your juices, Simon’s tongue darting out to lick a stripe from his chin to his lips. Your lips part as you watch Simon clean your slick off of Kyle’s face, Kyle panting into the kisses. Warmth starts to pool in your stomach again as you watch them, lips parting slightly. They make such a pretty couple, Simon’s rough hands and Kyle’s malleable nature.

“Think she’s feeling left out.” Simon murmurs against Kyle’s lips.

Kyle turns his head, Simon kissing down his throat. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around you before pulling you closer. You wind up snuggled against his side, immediately leaning in for a kiss. Kyle kisses you, a hint of your own taste still on his tongue, along with a hint of Simon. It’s an intoxicating cocktail, almost as intoxicating as the scents in the air.

Oh god how you’ve missed this.

Simon watches the two of you for a moment before getting up, Kyle moaning as he slips out of his ass. Kyle’s arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against his chest as he continues to kiss you.

Simon returns with a rag, wiping down Kyle and between your legs before disappearing back into the bathroom for a moment. Kyle rolls to his side, pulling away from your lips as he slips an arm beneath your head. He stares at you, his eyes roving over your face for a moment.

“Hi.” He breathes, a small smile pulling at his lips.

You can’t help but grin back. “Hi. Feeling better now?”

He hums, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Much better. Missed you so much.”

“Me or my pussy?” You smirk.

Kyle pretends to think for a moment. “Both. Definitely both.”

“I’ll try not to keep you waiting so long next time.” You say, resting your head against his bicep.

“Blue-balled us all.” Simon says, coming around the other side of the bed. He lays down behind you, tossing the sheet over your bodies.

“Sorry,” You hum, getting comfortable between them.

“Working backwards this time.” Kyle says, draping his arm across you to reach Simon. “Poor John has to be last.”

“He’ll be fine.” Simon grunts. “Johnny’s probably got his dick down his throat right now.”

You let out a noise at the mental image that flashes through your head. Johnny on his knees, that needy look in his eyes, face flushed as his mouth spreads wide around John’s cock.

Simon chuckles darkly, his hand resting on your hip at your shift in scent. “Like that, do you?”

“Can’t help it.” You murmur, rubbing your legs together. “He’s just so...fun to play with.”

“He’s our favorite toy.” Simon says.

A thought crosses your mind. Johnny on his knees in front of the three of them, taking turns as he goes down the line.

You lick your lips. “Have you ever…”

“Course.” Simon grunts. “Lots of times.”

“Oh.” You blink, staring at Kyle’s chest as you think it over. Of course they’ve all been together at the same time. Why wouldn’t they? “Would...would you ever...with me?”

Kyle hums. “If you wanted to. It’s a lot all at once though.”

“Think I can’t handle it?” You say, your omega starting to stir, though you’re not sure if it’s the idea of being surrounded by them or the insinuation against your strength and stamina.

Kyle shrugs. “I don’t know. Do you think you could?”

Could you? You’ve never really thought about it that hard before. Sure the fantasy has been there, but the reality? The admin behind making it work…

“Don’t know.” You say, curling in on yourself. “Never been in an orgy before.”

“You’d never had sex before you joined our pack.” Simon reminds you.

“Now look at me.” You say, rolling onto your back, tits out above the blanket. “You’ve properly corrupted me.”

Simon growls low in his chest, his hand sneaking under the blanket to rest right below your breasts. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” you tease. “You destroyed my innocence? Corrupted me into a needy little omega desperate for alpha cock?”

You can feel his cock start to stir again against your hip as his hand slides up, fingers closing around your nipple and tugging.

“Careful,” he warns you. “You’re getting yourself all worked up again.”

You sink your teeth into your lip, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

He grunts, laying there for a moment before he slips his hand under your shoulder, turning you over onto your side against Kyle’s chest. “Stay.” He commands before moving behind you, the bed dipping as he rolls.

Kyle watches him over the top of your head, and you hear the snap of a lid. A few seconds pass before Simon rolls back over, shoving the blanket down before two wet fingers prod at your pussy. Kyle lifts your leg up as Simon slips them into you, pumping them a couple times to lube your walls before pulling his hand free. You lay there as he saddles up right against your back, the head of his cock pressing against your hole.

You gasp as he pushes in, the lube aiding as he presses his hips until they’re flush with your ass. He stills there, his cock seated inside your pussy.

“Keep that in there all night and I’ll put your knees up by your ears tomorrow.” He grunts before settling behind you.

“Well how am I supposed to sleep now?” You whine, clenching around his cock.

“Figure it out.” He murmurs, his breath fanning the top of your head.

“Fuckin’ still at it.”

“They’re young.”

“Christ almighty.” Johnny groans, shifting in his seat. “Feel sorry for the poor hen.”

“Why?” John snorts. “Sounds like she’s enjoying herself quite a bit.”

A loud, keening moan sounds through the wall, paired with a rough slam of the headboard.

“Gonnae put a hole in the wall.” Johnny grumbles, sipping his coffee.

“We can fix that easily.” John says, taking a bite of his toast. “Surprised Simon didn’t make several during her heat.”

Johnny huffs. “Thought he did a few times.”

Another long, drawn out moan sounds, an echoing deeper one following.

“There she goes.” John says, the house falling silent.

“Think it’s over?” Johnny asks.

John nods. “Most likely. I doubt they’d push it much further so early.”

“For our sakes I hope yer right.” Johnny grumbles.

A few moments later the door opens, a proud looking Kyle making his way out of the room. The scent of musk, sweat, and sex follows him reaching their noses quickly. Johnny lets out a quiet sound, nearly a whine at the rich scent.

“Screamin’ fuckin’ Jesus.” Johnny groans. “Did ye kill her?”

“She’s fine. Be out as soon as her legs stop shaking.” Kyle smirks.

Johnny spouts out a curse none of them quite understand as Kyle makes his way to the kettle for some tea.

“What’s for breakfast?” Simon asks, appearing through the half open door to your room. He’s bare chested and looking quite proud of himself.

“Oh yeah, ye come out here peacockin’ expecting a Full English laid out?” Johnny snaps.

Simon smirks. “What, pouting because you didn’t get to join in?”

“Woulda been easier if I didnae have tae listen to it!” Johnny fumes.

“You could have stayed upstairs.” Simon smirks, approaching his fired up beta. “I think you’re just upset you got left out.” Simon cards his fingers through Johnny’s hair. It’s getting long, his fingers sinking into it easily. He grips it, tilting Johnny’s head back slightly so they’re looking each other in the eye. “Be a good boy and maybe next time I’ll let you in.”

Johnny nearly turns to goo in his seat, deflating instantly. He can’t be mad, not with Simon’s dominant side coming out. He can only imagine what he did to you in such a state. No wonder you have yet to be seen.

“Every man for himself this morning for breakfast.” John says, breaking the tense energy of the moment. As much as he’d enjoy watching Johnny get bent over the table, Simon has likely exerted himself enough for the time being. The last thing they need is an injury.

Simon smirks before releasing Johnny, the Scot sinking down into his chair as soon as he’s free. Kyle makes his way to the table, sitting down next to John gingerly.

“Not ye too.” Johnny says, staring at Kyle with hooded eyes.

Kyle smirks, saying nothing as he takes a sip of his tea.

Simon starts on some eggs, the smell starting to waft through the house.

The door creaks quietly as it opens, all of their gazes drawn across the room. You appear out of the darkness, hair mussed, bruises on your neck visible thanks to the loose fitting shirt you’ve donned (likely Simon’s), walking with a noticeable limp.

“Morning sweetheart.” John says, taking a sip of his tea as he watches you slowly make your way to the table. “Have a good night?”

“Mhm.” You hum, lowering yourself slowly into a chair. “Great night.”

“Sounded like it.” Johnny mumbles.

“Did you have a good night?” You ask, voice airy.

“We did.” John says, hiding a smirk behind his mug.

“Good.” You smile, leaning your head on your arm.

“What kind of magic did ye work Simon?” Johnny asks, staring at your blissed out face.

“Just gave her what she wanted.” Simon shrugs, plating the eggs. He carries two plates over to the table, setting one in front of you. “Folded her in half and fucked her till she cried.”

Johnny curses, shifting in his seat again as Simon takes his seat next to him.

“It was quite the sight.” Kyle grins.

“I bet.” John says.

“You can fuck me next if you’d like.” You say, spooning some eggs into your mouth.

He smiles. “You’re sweet to offer, but I think you need a break for a bit.”

“Wha’ about me?” Johnny whines.

You turn your gaze to him. “I’d rather watch you get dicked down.”

“Oh shit.” Kyle breathes, looking between you and his fellow beta.

Johnny lets out a moan at your words, his body shuddering.

“Did you just cum in your pants?” Simon asks, looking down at his beta.

“No…” Johnny flushes, looking bashful.

“’S alright. Happens to the best of us.” You say, taking another bite of your eggs nonchalantly, like you didn’t just make a grown man cum untouched in his pants like a teenager.

“Fucking hell what’s gotten into us?” Kyle asks, looking around the table.

“It’s been far too long since we’ve gotten a chance to be so free with each other.” John says. “Between what happened and then for Christine’s sake, we held ourselves back. Now we have the space and the desire to do as we wish.”

“Be nice while it lasts.” You say, mumbling around your eggs.

“What do you mean?” Kyle asks.

You shrug, eyes down on your plate. “Have to go back eventually, right?”

The table falls silent at the sudden drop in energy, all of them sharing looks but none of them brave enough to say anything.

“I still don’t get it.”

“It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

“But you have to get the hang of it first.” You say, staring hard at the chess board.

“You’ll get it eventually.” Simon says, moving his piece.

“You just won again, didn’t you?” You groan.

“I did.”

You shake your head. “It’s not fair. I still don’t know what I’m doing. Can we go back to playing checkers?”

“You lost at that too.”

“But at least I know how to play.” You say.

“Still beating you?” John asks appearing in front of the fireplace.

“Yes.” You pout.

“We’ll find a game your good at.” Kyle says. “Then we’ll let you beat us.”

“Hey!” You say, lifting yourself off the floor to sit on the couch. “That’s not fair!”

“Better than you losing all the time.” Kyle says, sitting down across from you.

Johnny takes the seat next to you as Simon lifts himself onto the couch next to Kyle. John stands before you, and you can already tell you’re in a pack meeting just from the look on his face. He’s wearing that mask again, the mask of the Captain, the Head Alpha, the Leader.

“I’ve called you all here for a very important announcement.” He says, holding a folder in his hands. You hadn’t noticed it before.

The four of you sit there quietly, waiting with bated breath for what he’s going to say next.

“Our time here is ending.” John continues. “Now that the winter season has passed, and the threat against us has been eliminated, we have to move on to what comes next. I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few weeks thinking about what’s going to happen next, about what direction our lives are going to go. The easiest option is of course going back to the way things were before, going back to the military, living out our lives as we always planned.”

His gaze drops to you. You’re avoiding looking at him, instead focused hard on the checkers box still on the coffee table. You’re waiting for the shoe to drop, for him to say that is what you’re going back to. You’ll be a military pack, you’ll be a military wife, watching them go and waiting for them to go home. Maybe he’ll be nice and let you live off base, or at least in better housing outside of the barracks. Maybe he’ll bring you back here every so often so you can enjoy the sea.

“But…”

That word piques your interest. ‘But’ means something is following, usually something contradictory. Something opposite of what was just said. Your mother used to say “if you follow a statement with the word ‘but’, you don’t mean what you said at all.” You try not to have hope. You try not to think too hard on that ‘but.’

“That’s not entirely fair to all of us.” He continues, still looking at you. “I made a promise that things would change, and I’ve broken that promise over and over again. So I’ve taken it upon myself to make sure things do change.” He takes a step closer to you.

The folder appears in your line of sight. He’s holding it out to you. Your hand shakes as you lift it, closing your fingers around the thick paper. He relinquishes his hold on it, dropping his hand as soon as you have a grip on it. He takes a step back, all of them watching you as you hold the folder.

The plastic clip catches on your finger but you ignore it as you flip them open, reaching in to grab the stack of papers. It’s a thick stack, the papers shaking just slightly as you free them.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you flip them over so you can read them. Your eyes trail over the top, a mix of letters and numbers that mean something unknown to you. It’s a form of some sort, holding John’s information. More information than you’ve ever seen about your alpha.

Your brow furrows as you stare at it. “I don’t know what this is.”

John shifts on his feet. “Consider it a letter of resignation, of sorts.”

Your eyes snap up to him at those words. You know what that means. Your eyes dart between him and the stack of papers, back and forth in disbelief. Letter of resignation?

“Cap, you’re-” Kyle starts but he can’t finish before you cut him off.

“You’re retiring?” Your voice displays just as much disbelief as you’re feeling.

Please don’t let it be a joke. Please don’t let it be a lie.

John nods. “Yes.” He shifts on his feet again. He’s nervous, something you never thought you’d see. “I always thought I’d spend my entire life in the service, until I was forced to retire or I died in the field. Then things changed. This pack was formed, we were given the gift of an omega.” He turns to you again. “I know how much living this life has drained you. These last few months we’ve spent here have proven that to me. You don’t deserve to be forced to wait on us, live the life you don’t want in favor of us living the life we do. You deserve to have comfort and security in knowing your alpha will always be here for you.”

Tears gather in your eyes as you continue to stare at the paperwork. Letter of resignation. He’s really doing it. He’s really going to retire. It’s not some trick, some lie, some sort of dream. He’s going to put aside what he wants in favor of what you want. For the first time you’re going to get a chance to live out a life outside the military.

You’re getting what you want.

“John…” You breathe, fighting back a sob.

He kneels down in front of you, cupping your face with his hand. “You deserve to live a happy life. I’m going to be the one to give that to you.”

You lean into his touch, pressing your nose into his wrist. Petrichor, rich earth, the forest.

The scent of your alpha, the scent of home.

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