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milkymiks · 16 days ago

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Danny can’t find Jason, he’s too young of a ghost, powerful, but inexperienced. He knew that Jason is from another universe, but he can’t access that Universe, having been relying on the fenton portal for going in and out of the ghost zone. Sam and Tucker can only do so much but they did what they can and Danny is grateful for their efforts.

Years went by, longer than how long Jason had been with them, They’re in 2nd year college now and Jazz is graduating. Danny had been crowned the King of Infinite Realms despite his futile attempts at prolonging it, ‘A year after your legal maturity day is the perfect time’ As Clockwork had said. Still no sign of Jason.

It happened a year later.

Danny, drowning in bureaucratic shit that the ancients had decided to set aside despite their own ability to solve those problems themselves only to dump them in an inexperienced newly unwillingly crowned King. Danny is also in his third year of college that means his human identity is also drowning in fucking thesis papers, He’s getting nightmares just by looking at parchment and office papers.

Jason would probably laugh at him.

Jason, who has been missing for more than five years…

God Danny misses Jason, He misses sitting at the roof of a random house with him Stargazing. He misses Jason’s excited babble whenever he discusses some difference with the classic literature in this world to his’. The feeling of his core synchronizing with his…

Was he even real? No, Sam and Tucker remembers him so he wasn’t some hallucination.

Danny glances down on the paper before him, rereading the thing three times before it registered in his mind and promptly throws the parchment away from him, and because it’s paper, it only flapped pathetically on the air before smacking him in the face. He sighed.

___

“Fuck we were too late! they’re almost complete with the chanting!” Constantine curses, sees the runes etched on the floor and pales.

“What exactly are we dealing with here?” Batman grunts, They’re a good feet away from the cloaked figures. The warehouse is dark, the only light source coming from the green flamed candles surrounding the runes.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but the sudden shift in the atmosphere earlier was heavy, I thought they were summoning demons, That we can deal with. This is so much worse”

“Get to the point” Batman turned to the other’s “apprehend the cloaked figures, especially the one in the middle, we need to know their intentions” Dick nodded and saluted “Roger that” He and the other bat’s got to work. Zatanna started to seal the area around the runes to keep whatever was about to be summoned inside.

“They’re summoning the High King of the Infinite Realms, The infinite realms is the border between all universes and where everyone that dies, ends up to. I don’t know how they managed to conjure all the materials needed to but they’re summoning a GOD!” Constantine is panicking “And I don’t even want to touch the shit that’s happening inside there with a ten foot pole but I do know the king is a tyrant!”

“Hah! It’s too late! This is as fated from the scriptures, Pariah Dark will free us and govern the world with his greatness!” The deranged leader said, laughing in his binds as Red Robin easily kept him down. In front of them the runes lit up with a bright green, the ground shook as the cloaked leader’s deranged laughter increased.

A large black whispy arm shot out from the ground in the middle of the summoning circle, followed by a head, A flaming crown on top, then a body, its jagged rib cage outside framing his torso. everything about it looked off, apparently even for the cult leader that summoned it.

“Wha-?! You’re not Pariah Dark!” He screamed and thrashed in Red Robin's hold, who held him down with a foot on his back.

Its white eerie eyes darted down to him, It seemed to take full offense as it bent down and hisses “Do I look like Pariah Dark?” Its voice is like fork grating on a chalkboard, every mortal in the room winced, especially Red Robin who is closer in proximity.

The King straightened up and swept its cold eyes across the room “Why am I called here?” It sounded annoyed, like they’re just ants wasting its time, which in retrospect they were.

“I swear I changed the summoning requirements…” It muttered, which was heard by everyone. A hint of humanity, they could use this. It’s obviously a new King but they have to thread carefully.

Constantine stepped forward and bowed “High King of the infinite realms, we deeply apologize on behalf of these cult for wasting your time. We want nothing of the sort from you and we only wish to be on your good side”

It looked and stared at Constantine for a good moment before it lunged with rage, only stopped by the summoning circle and Zatanna’s barrier “YOU!!!!”

Constantine stumbled a step back in shock at the absolute hatred brimming the King's eyes.

“You’re the major cause of my headache’s! Who the fuck sells their soul to different entity’s when you only got one?! You whore! I have a special cabinet just full of your paperwork shit! I ought to just kill you and slice your core into ten so I’ll have one less ton of paperwork to deal with!”

It smashes its fist on the barrier and a resounding ‘crack’ echoed across the warehouse.

Constantine can feel Batman’s glare on the back of his head, Zatanna’s strengthening the barrier but the King doesn’t seem to care.

The other bats have gathered the cultist to one side of the room far away from the summoning circle and they stood waiting for orders dealing with their new problem.

Danny sighed, he wanted to finish up until section J but he still has to deal with this. He looked consideringly at the flimsy barrier keeping him, the only reason he stayed was so he wouldn’t scare the superhero team gathered around already securing the cult that was the cause of this shit. Also this is a new universe, not unheard of as he knew a lot of ghosts from this universe and other variants, Just that he hasn’t had the time to visit as many universes as he would’ve liked.

Ever since taking the crown his powers grew exponentially and he gained the ability to cross other universes as he liked. It’s just that the few Universes he managed to visit didn’t have His Jason in it. And there are infinite universes, it’s like finding a microscopic needle in a pit of hay.

He shifted from his eldritch form to something more fitted for royalty. It wouldn’t hurt to check this universe out. The cult summoning him had been knowledgeable but not enough, They only bound their souls to him as an offering so he isn’t required to grant whatever wishes they would have liked.

Danny flew out of the summoning circle and the barrier, He could make acquaintances with the people here. The guy in black and blue spandex looks friendly.

Batman and the other’s watched as the King turned into a more human form and tore through Zatanna’s barrier with no problem, floating down and seemed to say something before he froze, eye’s widening, and then he shot off.

“Nightwing, Robin, I trust you two to finish this up and hand them over to the GCPD. The rest of you let’s go, we can’t trust an unknown entity to roam free”

“It’s headed towards the docks” Zatanna informed them, already ahead in locating their wayward King.

Batman frowned, The docks, It’s where Red Hood currently is, he turned down the emergency call claiming he already had other plans. He caught wind of another unauthorized drug trade starting to circulate when the alley kids helpfully informed him of unfamiliar men trying to sell them drugs and a few attempts of kidnapping. Everyone knew each other in crime alley and one of the main rules Red Hood has is to not involve kids.

#dead on main #danny fenton #jason todd #danny phantom #red hood #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #jason todd x danny fenton #Constantine and the others r prolly ooc but at this point idc #And Danny's powers? idk I'm only halfway thru Danny Phantom im just winging it

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the-shedevil-writes · 21 days ago

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Manchild (Jake Seresin x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: After too many heartbreaks and enough horrible dates, you’ve sworn off love completely. But it's hard to resist when every Friday, like clockwork, Jake Seresin shows up flirting like it's his full-time job. So when you say yes, you expect the worst, only to be surprised when he treats you better than any man has before. WORD COUNT: 3.8k WARNINGS: First date fluff! MC hasn't had a good relationship past (nothing crazy). Making out and lots of kissing. NOTES: Inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's new song ;) This is dedicated to my ex who, yes, did wear basketball shorts to dates MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Y/n had sworn off dating a while ago. She had called it quits on the modern dating scene after months of failed Tinder dates and self-centered flings. Men didn’t want commitment these days, and she had accepted that. Embraced it even. There didn’t seem to be a point in trying to keep a man who didn’t want to stay. And one-night stands were rarely satisfying enough to make them worth all the effort.

Working as a waitress in a beach bar right by the North Island Air Force Base didn’t help. She had dipped into the pool of pilots and jumped right back out. After a devastating point of getting her hopes up and being let down by a Top Gun man, she swore never again.

That’s why when Jake Seresin came into the bar every Friday night with his squadron, she paid him no mind. She swatted his flirtations like flies. Even though he was the most handsome recruit she had seen so far, she had gotten her heart broken so many times that it didn’t budge the walls she had built. He was just like every cocky Top Gun graduate that came into The Hard Deck. Though granted, he was the first one with the looks to somewhat match.

He was persistent, but she didn’t mind. At least, it gave her a little entertainment during her shift. Who wouldn’t want to be flirted with by a hot pilot? To her, it was a brief distraction from the fact that men were only disappointments. It let her play pretend for a little.

“How’s my favorite bartender doing this evening?” He asked one day, leaning on the bar with his forearms. This was the start of their usual banter. His blonde hair was a little messy from the day, and she couldn’t help but notice that he had a slight stubble compared to his usual clean shave. It looked good on him.

She looked over at the group of pilots in matching uniforms. They were all indiscreetly watching them, finding joy in Hangman being shot down every Friday.

“She’s doing okay. How’s my most hated patron doing?” She asked while drying a Guinness glass with a rag, not even looking at him. The pilots always came in early, straight from their shifts. Always around sunset, an hour or so before rush.

He put his hand to his heart. “Ouch. He’s hurt.” He said, shaking his head with a smirk, “I’m doing quite all right now that I get to look at you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I swear, you get all your lines from 80s rom-coms or something.”

“I do have a soft spot for Sixteen Candles. We should watch it.” He tapped the bar, and she could feel his sea green eyes take her all in.

She shrugged and put the glass away. Counting the group of pilots, she already started getting a round of their usual from the mini fridge below. “I’m busy and I prefer Dirty Dancing.” She stated, looking up at him with an exasperated expression. She slid the round of bottles over to him. “Want me to open a tab?”

“You know me so well.” He said, tilting his head.

“I just wanna get you drunk enough that you’ll fall asleep and shut up.” She laughed now at the imagery in her head.

A Cheshire grin formed on his face, and he pointed to her. “There she is. Oh, how I love to make you break.” He said

She couldn’t help the blush this time, but she kept her face stoic. “Your drinks are getting warm.”

“They can wait.” He said with his hand to his cheek now, just admiring her.

There was a moment of silence as she raised her brows and went to dry another glass.

“Never gonna say yes to that date?” He asked.

“Are you ever gonna stop asking?”

He smiled again. “When the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen is right in front of you, I don’t think it’s smart to stop.”

Jesus, he was laying it on thick tonight. It was getting harder to keep up the game of pretend. Usually, it was just a few quips, but for some reason tonight he was on another level.

“Didn’t know you came in already drunk. I should cut you off.”

“Stone cold sober.”

“Concussion?”

“I’m a better pilot than that, honey.”

Why was he getting to her tonight? She had been strong for months now. Maybe it was that new romance show she’d been binge-watching that made her feel a sense of emptiness. Maybe it was because the nights got chilly, and she found her bed to be much bigger these days. Or the videos that flooded her social media of relationships that were way too perfect to be true.

It could’ve been any of those things… but she was struggling to keep her guard up. And it seemed like Jake could tell by the mischievous smile on his face.

“What’s your favorite food?”

She stared at him with a glare that told him to quit it. But Jake was never the type of person to do what he was told. She started wiping down the sticky countertop.

“Come on, humor me here.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Fine. I like a good burger.”

“This is just too perfect. There’s a drive-in movie theater I know that makes a mean burger.” He said, smiling and drumming the table.

“Is that where you take all the girls?” She asked, not looking up from the counter she was wiping.

“It’s where I’d like to take the girl.”

She shook her head, frustrated now, and looked up at him. “You think you’ve got all the answers, huh? All the words to make me swoon, but I’m not stupid, Hangman. I’m not the kind of girl to get swept up in all this and believe you want nothing more than my presence.”

He smirked at that, almost as if he predicted she would say that. As if he had rehearsed this time and time again in his head. “I’ll have you home by midnight. Before then, if you’d like, but if we start pushing ten, we’d have to leave the movies early.”

She laughed in disbelief. This guy had some nerve.

“If I say yes, will you bring your lukewarm beers to your friends?”

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

God, that was kinda hot. She sighed and tilted her head at him. “Saturday night. 8 PM. I live at the Apollo apartments down by the supermarket. Don’t be late.”

That Saturday, she had no idea what to wear. It dawned on her just how long it had been since her last date. She combed through the selection in her closet and eventually landed on something she’d at least be comfortable in. A cropped green tank top with a denim mini skirt. She lined her arms with bracelets that clinked when she walked and put a pair of sunglasses on her head despite the sun going down as she did so.

She was mid lip gloss application when she realized the time. It was eight o’clock on the dot. Eh, she probably had give or take ten to fifteen minutes. It’s not like dates were ever on time, and they often got lost in her apartment building anyway.

After taking her time collecting her things into her purse, she walked down the outside steps to find Jake standing by his white Jeep, looking around, blocking the setting sun from his eyes. The first thing she noticed was how he was dressed. He was wearing a crisp white T-shirt that fit him snugly under a brown leather aviator jacket. His jeans were dark and cuffed at the bottom to show his nice pair of suede shoes.

The second thing she noticed was the bouquet of sunflowers, daisies, and baby’s breath. Disbelief coursed through her. He looked like he was plucked straight from one of the romance novels sitting on her nightstand.

“Hey Hangman!” She called, and he snapped over at her voice. A relieved smile appeared on his face, and he slowly walked forward. Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she strutted over and stopped in front of him.

“I was starting to worry you’d stand me up.” He said, “You look gorgeous as always.”

Her face was cherry tomato red, and she tried to hide it by looking down at the pavement. She rocked on her heels nervously.

“Thank you… You’re all dressed up.” She pointed out.

He let out a huff and a confused smile.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brows. But he quickly shook it off. “These are for you.”

“They are?!” She couldn’t help the excitement now.

“Sweetheart, who else would they be for?” He laughed.

She took the bouquet in her hands and inhaled the botanical smell of it. “I’ve never gotten flowers before. They’re so nice.”

“You’ve… What?”

She didn’t notice his confusion and smiled up at him genuinely. “Thank you, Jake. I love them so much.”

He shook his head and scratched the back of his neck, admiring her. “I’ll get you flowers every damn day if it keeps you looking that happy.” He didn’t miss the face she made with the widened puppy eyes. As if she couldn’t believe it. “Now come on, let’s get this show on the road.”

She nodded and walked past him toward the passenger side. Accidentally forcing him to rush past her and open the door himself.

“Oh! Thank you!” She smiled naively.

Shaking his head again, he ran a hand down his face. “I have a feeling you’re gonna kill me with all this tonight.” He murmured

She tilted her head, confused, and reached up to put one foot on the Jeep's steep step. The car was much bigger than either of them, and she felt a little awkward climbing up in a skirt and heels.

“You got it?” He asked, coming up behind her and putting his hands out in case he needed to catch her.

She nodded. “I got it.” But as she went to grab the handle grip, her heel slipped and she fell back slightly, Jake catching her waist.

“Oh god Jesus-” He spouted out, panicked, exhaling as she released a loud laugh.

She got her balance back and climbed into the car. It was almost impossible to ignore the spark his touch had left behind from when his fingers accidentally went beneath top. But it was stifled by her instinct to laugh at Jake’s panicked and flushed face.

“You’re too cute, Seresin.” She said, looking down at him now, and he let out a relieved sigh.

The typical confident smirk returned to his lips. “I like it when you flirt back.” He stated before shutting the door for her.

The Drive-In was nothing like she had experienced before. She had only seen this sorta thing in movies and read it in passages from The Outsiders. So she looked around with curious eyes as he drove through the grass field.

After finding an optimal spot for the Jeep to see the whole screen, the two walked up to a small concession stand at the back of the car park. It wasn’t very busy, with lots of picnic tables empty. People were mostly pulling in or waiting in their cars for the movie to start.

They got in line, and she instinctively stood behind him as he looked up at the chalkboard menu. After a moment, he turned to his side, expecting to see her, then turned back around to find her studying the menu in line.

“What are you doing?”

“What?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Get over here.” He said, and when she did, he wrapped his arm around her. The leather of his jacket smelled so good. It was covered by a rich, clean scent… Did he spray his jacket with cologne too? She resisted the urge to giggle as he held her, but there was no way to hide the giddy smile and blush across her cheeks. He seemed proud to be with her, and it was driving her wild.

“But what about when we order?” She asked

“What about it?”

“Well, how will they know to separate the-”

His eyes widened, and he looked down at her. “Y/n… Are you telling me you expected to split the bill?”

Her jaw dropped slightly. Honestly, yeah, she had. She was so used to it. She never wanted to seem like a snob or a woman who expected all expenses to be paid for. It’s not like she had dated many men with great finances, and she didn’t want to be a burden. Most men eagerly took the option to split, and she really didn’t mind. She nodded at him.

“I don’t wanna waste your money-”

“It’s a five-dollar burger and shake. Are you kidding me?”

“Uh, no?” She replied anxiously

There was something brewing behind his smile. A sense of vexation that worried her. He shook his head. “I got it.”

They got up to the front of the line, and he greeted the cashier.

“I’ll have the double cheeseburger and… a Diet Coke.” He started, then he looked over at them, “Tell them what you want, honey.” His voice was smooth, and it came out of him so naturally. It felt like they had done this for years. That they were some domesticated couple that was having a night out on the town. Especially when he called her honey like that. He called her that sometimes at the bar, but tonight it felt different rolling off his tongue.

“Uh, I’ll get the cheeseburger and the chocolate shake.”

He smiled. “Good choice.” He squeezed her shoulder, and they paid.

Not even ten minutes later, they sat on one of the picnic tables with a red umbrella stemming from it. He watched as she sipped on her milkshake and looked around curiously at their surroundings. Fireflies flew by a chain link fence, and there was an area for kids to run around in the fields.

“Is it good?” He asked, “Gimme a taste.”

She nodded, and she handed him the paper cup. Again, that sense of normalcy between them made her heart pound. Maybe it was the fact that they knew each other already, with them talking every Friday night for months now. But this date didn’t have that awkward feeling that most first dates did. It all felt natural.

He took a sip and blinked his eyes in surprise. “God damn, that’s good.”

She laughed and took it back, swinging her feet under the table. She could feel his eyes on her, and it made her face turn red for what felt like the millionth time. When he looked at her like she was a painting in a museum, it was hard not to.

“What?!” She asked with a pressured chuckle.

“I wanna know what the hell you were expecting tonight. It’s like everything I do surprises you.” He said, placing his elbow on the table and putting his hand to his temple.

She nodded, a lot more comfortable around him now. It was nice. It felt like she could genuinely talk to him compared to the banter-heavy quips at Hard Deck.

“There’s a reason I didn’t say yes to you right away, Jake.” She started.

“I’m sensing that now. Go on.”

“I… I am not used to… this. The flowers. The opening car doors. The whole thing. Guys don’t normally do that.” She explained, “Hell, I was surprised you didn’t show up at my door wearing basketball shorts and a graphic T-shirt.”

His face was horrified. He leaned in. “Guys have worn that on a date?”

“YES! Many!” She said, laughing now. “I-I thought that I just had my standards too high. That those sorta things were just reserved for the movies. Plus, it’s not like many of the dates I went out on were real dates. They felt more like… a means to an end for them. So I figured I’d just quit. Give up on the idea of love and fairytales. And never give the handsome pilot at the bar a chance to make me cry.”

He reached forward and held her hand. It was silent between them as he thought about what he wanted to say. That last sentence seemed to have struck a chord with him. His thumb brushed over the top of her hand.

“This isn’t just a means to an end for me. I hope you know that.” He said gently.

“I’m sensing that now.” She mimicked him.

He smiled at her. “Now come on, give me another sip of that shake.”

“NO!”

Thirty minutes later, they sat in the trunk of his car as the opening to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off played on the giant screen in front of them. His radio was set to the frequency of the drive-in so they could hear the audio from the speakers behind them. There were already pillows and blankets that Jake had prepared in the spacious back for them.

She curled up in the thin brown blanket that he had brought, and he admired how she looked in the silver light of the film. Her eyes looked beautiful as they gazed up at the screen. Then he noticed her give off a slight shiver. She didn’t even notice.

She was too enthralled in the witty dialogue of the movie at first to realize. Then she heard shuffling and looked over to find Jake, taking off his aviator jacket, and moving to wrap it around her.

“Are you not gonna be cold?” She asked worriedly.

He scoffed and continued to wrap the jacket around her. “I’ll be just fine.” He said as if it shouldn’t have even been a question. “Could use somebody to warm me up, though.” He said casually.

She smirked at that and pried her eyes off the screen to look up at him. “I think I can help with that.” She replied before scooting over to rest her head on his chest. His arm wrapped around her shoulders as hers wrapped around his waist.

The blanket, the jacket, and his torso all kept her so warm. It was like her own personal heater. A contented sigh escaped her, and he gently started scratching her scalp. She could fall asleep like this, but she wanted to stay awake and watch the movie.

Nearing the end of the movie, he looked down to find her eyes sleepily blinking. Her eyes were half open, straining to watch. He chuckled.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?”

She nodded, “You’re so comfy.” She murmured.

“We’ll get you home soon.” He reassured, but she almost didn’t want the date to end. Curse her independence.

After the movie ended, the credits rolled, and she clapped. She looked up at him with a small, sleepy smile and those doe eyes that first captured Jake’s attention.

“You’re so pretty when you’re not stressed behind the bar.” He teased, carefully reaching up to brush some hair out of her face.

“Says the man causing the stress.” She replied with a tired chuckle.

His hand moved to cup her cheek, and she sat up just a little now to get closer. Their breaths were both heavy in anticipation. Someone needed to move, but they were both hesitant.

He eventually decided to kiss her forehead. Then move down to place one on her cheek. Then he hovered right above her lips.

God, this was killing her.

“Please.” She whispered breathlessly.

He smirked. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He murmured before leaning in to kiss her.

They kissed, and their lips were in perfect alignment. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he went down to her hips, squeezing her closer. When he pulled her in, she couldn’t resist the little sound that came out of her, and that just drove him crazier. Their lips pressed against each other, and his nose exhaled hard, tickling her slightly. He smelled like a fresh batch of laundry and tasted like Diet Coke. She couldn’t help but run her hands through the back of his hair, which was a little obscene for a slightly public area.

He pulled away first and put her forehead to his. “Sweetheart, if you keep that up, I’m gonna need a minute before I drive you home.” He let out a breathless laugh, and that caused her to as well.

After a moment, he pulled her in to rest her head on his shoulder. Her face kept in the crook of his neck. “This is bad.”

He craned his head down to look at her. “Why’s that?”

“I really like you.”

He chuckled, “God, I sure hoped so.” He said before planting a kiss on the crown of her hair.

After a drive filled with laughter and classic rock music, she didn’t want the date to end. Part of her was embarrassed that it took so long to get here. That possibly the man she had been waiting for had been under her stubborn nose the whole time. He put the Jeep in park.

“Let me walk you to the door.” He said.

Are you… kidding me? She was used to men dropping her off and speeding away as soon as she shut the door. Their exhaust pipes smoking her and leaving her in the dust. But Jake was so surprisingly gentle. Yes, he was confident and cocky, but he treated her like she was royalty, and she almost feared getting used to it. What if things didn’t work out, and she’d have to go back to basketball shorts and axe body spray? But she silenced those anxieties in time for him to open her door and help her down from the side, as she clutched her newfound flowers.

They walked up to her apartment in comfortable silence. The crickets chirped, and some horns honked in the deep distance. When they got to her door, she held the bouquet in her hands like a comfort item.

“This is me…” She said, a little disappointed, staring at the ground. After a moment, she continued, “Look, I- I had a great time tonight. Don’t let it get to your head, but I’d love to do this again. But- but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, or if I wasn’t what you expecte-”

He suddenly tilted her chin up and pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes were shot open, surprised, until she closed them, relaxing into the familiar kiss again.

“You off tomorrow?” He asked after he pulled away just so slightly.

“Got a morning shift, but I’m free after ten.” She answered way too quickly.

He smirked, “Lunch is on me then.”

She kissed him again. There was no way she was going back to boys when she had a man like that in her arms.

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #top gun #glen powell #glen powell fic #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #hangman seresin #dagger squad #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfic #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #glen powell x reader #top gun fanfic

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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

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Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

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homestuck-music-tournament · 10 months ago

Text

Candles and Clockwork

Album: Homestuck Vol. 5 Composer: James Dever Leitmotifs: Candles and Clockwork Characters: Dave Strider, LoHaC

#homestuck music tournament #homestuck #homestuck music #Candles and Clockwork #Homestuck Vol. 5 #James Dever #Candles and Clockwork leitmotif #Dave Strider #LoHaC #Bandcamp

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cloudyluun · 3 months ago

Text

The Cost of Keeping You | ceo!harry

Summary: Working for Harry Styles—CEO of Styles Enterprises and unofficial tyrant of the twentieth floor—was never Y/N’s dream. But rent waits for no one. She can handle his cold glares, biting remarks, and soul-sucking silence. Until one day, she can’t. After a brutal insult that hits too close to home, Y/N walks out with her head high and her heart bruised. Harry? He pretends not to care. Until he does.

Now, months later, Harry finds himself unraveling in the quiet she left behind—and he’ll have to decide if he’s ready to face the mess he made… and the woman he might’ve lost forever.

A/N: This fic (based on this request) is for the girlies who love their men mean, miserable, and emotionally repressed 💅 If you’ve ever daydreamed about quitting your toxic job with a dramatic one-liner and having your jerk of a boss realize he’s in love with you months later? Yeah. This one’s for you.

Pour a glass of wine, light a candle, and prepare for CEOrry to suffer

Word Count: 6,6k

Warnings:

Verbal/emotional mistreatment in the workplace (from Harry)

Power imbalance (acknowledged & explored)

Burnout / stress / overwork

Angsty emotionally stunted man

Soul-crushing insult that will make you gasp and clutch your pearls

Groveling (delicious)

Optional heartbreak depending on chosen ending

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

She never planned to stay this long.

The job was supposed to be temporary—a stopgap while she figured things out. Rent in the city wasn’t kind, and freelance gigs didn’t always pay on time. When she landed the executive assistant position at Styles Global, she told herself she’d give it six months. Just enough time to build some savings, maybe line up something closer to her skill set. Something less soul-sucking.

That was two years ago.

Now, she moved through the sleek glass hallways like a ghost in heels, always present, always poised, and always one misstep away from being on the receiving end of another of Harry Styles’ famously cold tirades.

To the rest of the office, he was a legend. A force of nature. They called him “Hurricane Styles” behind his back, though most were too afraid to say it above a whisper. He had built the company from nothing, turned every risk into a win, turned bloodless strategy into an art form. Investors adored him. Board members feared him. And employees? They tried not to make eye contact.

She knew the rules. Never speak unless spoken to. Never offer ideas—he’d either steal them or shoot them down just to remind you who had the power. And never, ever expect gratitude. Harry didn’t say thank you. He said “Fix this.” He said “Again.” He said “Why is this taking so long?”

She’d learned early on not to take it personally. The key was to treat it like weather. Unpleasant, unpredictable, but not about her. She could withstand a storm. She just hadn’t realized how long this one would last.

By month three, she had his routines memorized—his preferred coffee order (black, no sugar, 8:04 a.m. sharp), how he liked his reports formatted (12-point font, single-spaced, no cover page), the names he forgot during meetings (which was most of them). She kept his world running so smoothly that no one noticed the machinery behind it.

That was the way he liked it.

Still, some days, she couldn’t help but feel like she was slowly disappearing. Her friends stopped inviting her out after she bailed on too many Friday dinners. Her fridge was stocked with takeout containers she barely remembered ordering. She ate lunch at her desk, dinner on the train, and sometimes forgot breakfast entirely. Sleep came in fits. Her eyes were ringed in fatigue, her jaw clenched more often than not.

But she showed up. Every morning, polished and precise, like clockwork.

And Harry treated her like she was interchangeable.

“This font is wrong,” he’d say, flipping the folder back toward her without looking up.

“It’s the one you asked for.”

“Well, it’s wrong now.”

He never looked her in the eye unless he was correcting her. He never said her name unless it was followed by a command. Some days, she wondered if he even knew anything about her beyond what was in her HR file.

But she didn’t crack. Not outwardly. She met his coldness with calm, his dismissals with measured silence. Let him feel like he had the upper hand. That was how you survived here. She wasn’t trying to win him over. She was just trying to stay standing.

That morning started like any other. Rain slicked the pavement outside the 52nd Street building. She beat him to the office, as usual, lights already on, coffee already waiting. She sat at her desk just outside his door, skimming through emails, flagging the ones that needed his attention, deleting the ones that didn’t. Her phone buzzed. Another meeting pushed back. She adjusted his calendar accordingly.

“Morning,” came a voice from behind her.

She looked up. Theo, one of the junior project managers, stood there holding a report.

“Hey,” she said, managing a small smile.

He lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. “You know, I think you might actually be a wizard.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“No, seriously,” he said. “The guy’s a nightmare, but you—you handle him like it’s nothing. You’re the only one who can.”

She snorted under her breath, shaking her head. “Trust me. It’s not magic. It’s caffeine and pure survival instinct.”

“I still think you deserve a raise. Or hazard pay.”

She didn’t say anything, just turned back to her screen. But the compliment—simple, sincere—sat heavy in her chest like a secret. She couldn’t remember the last time someone said something nice to her in this building.

Behind her, the door creaked open.

Theo straightened instantly. “Morning, Mr. Styles.”

Harry didn’t respond. Just walked past them, into his office, and shut the door with that sharp, final click that always made her stomach knot.

She went back to work. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Then—

“Y/N.”

His voice, clipped and cold.

She stepped into his office, notepad in hand.

He didn’t look up from his screen. “Why did I just overhear you chatting with one of the junior staff?”

She blinked. “He had a report you needed to see. He also—”

“—was wasting your time,” Harry cut in, finally meeting her gaze. His eyes were unreadable. “You’re not here to make friends.”

Her jaw tensed. “I wasn’t.”

He stood then, slow and deliberate, walking around his desk until they stood a few feet apart.

“If this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward her notepad, her schedule, her entire existence, “is your best, then maybe you should stick to fetching coffee. You're not irreplaceable.”

The words landed like a slap. Not loud, not violent—just surgical in their precision. She stared at him, willing herself not to react. Not to flinch.

Instead, she swallowed hard, nodded once, and left the room.

Back at her desk, she sat perfectly still.

It wasn’t the first time he’d belittled her. But this one felt different. It wasn’t just that he was cruel. It was that he’d said it so easily. As if she was nothing. As if all the late nights and early mornings, all the silent sacrifices, all the ways she kept him afloat… meant nothing.

And he hadn’t even thought twice.

She worked through lunch. Didn’t speak to anyone the rest of the day. Just kept her head down, her expression blank, her hands steady. But inside, something had shifted. Something small, but irreversible.

He thought she was replaceable.

He was going to find out how wrong he was.

The next morning, she arrived at her usual time—fifteen minutes before anyone else. The office was quiet, still soaked in early dawn light. The floor-to-ceiling windows reflected a city still rubbing sleep from its eyes. She sat at her desk, logged in, and started moving pieces around on his schedule like nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

Her spine was straighter. Her eyes sharper. She wasn't angry. Not exactly. Anger was too loud, too hot. What she felt was colder, deeper—an indifference blooming like frostbite. She had nothing left to prove. And for the first time, she could see the finish line. She just hadn’t decided when she’d cross it.

Harry didn’t notice at first.

He breezed in just before 8:15, late by his standards, muttering about a traffic delay, waving off the coffee she still—out of sheer habit—had waiting for him. She took notes in a meeting, filed reports, arranged travel for a business trip he wasn’t even sure he wanted to take. It was routine, rote. The same grind she’d mastered over the last two years.

But Harry wasn’t stupid. And despite his best efforts to act otherwise, he noticed things.

He noticed that she didn’t offer him her usual rundown of the day’s meetings. Didn’t preemptively print the documents he’d need before his 10 a.m. Didn’t even ask if he wanted lunch or if she should push back his next call when the morning ran long.

Instead, she moved like a ghost—silent, efficient, detached.

And it irritated the hell out of him.

By the third day of this quiet withdrawal, he found himself pacing behind his desk after everyone had gone, a file open in front of him that he couldn’t bring himself to read. His office was too quiet. The desk outside his door was empty. She’d left promptly at five, like clockwork. No late-night filing, no quiet hum of her music spilling from her earbuds, no light footsteps when she brought him coffee after hours just because she knew he hadn’t eaten.

It wasn’t just her silence. It was her absence, even when she was still here.

The power imbalance he’d once leaned on so comfortably had shifted. And he didn’t know what to do with it.

So, naturally, he got meaner.

It started with nitpicks. “This margin is off.” “You didn’t bcc the right name.” “I said tomorrow, not Thursday.” All minor things—some imagined—but each said with increasing venom.

She didn’t react. Not really. Just fixed it and moved on. Which made him feel even more off-balance.

Then came the mistake.

It wasn’t even a big one. A slide title on the wrong deck. A single date typo buried in a footnote. But it was during a high-stakes pitch meeting—one he was already on edge about. The room was packed: department heads, a few investors, his second-in-command, and of course, her. Standing just to the side, laptop in hand, managing the screen.

He was presenting. She was supporting. It was a rhythm they knew by heart.

Until her voice broke in, gentle but confident. “Just to clarify, that figure includes Q3 projections, not finalized Q2 numbers.”

He turned slowly.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

She blinked. “You mentioned the quarterly report. I just wanted to clarify—”

“I know what I said,” he snapped. “What I don’t understand is why you’re talking like you have any authority to speak in this room.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Someone coughed. A chair creaked.

She stared at him. The warmth drained from her face like a switch had flipped.

He wasn’t done.

“You’re here to run slides and take notes. Not to correct me mid-pitch. If I wanted your input, I’d have asked for it. Stick to what you’re paid for.”

She said nothing. Just nodded once and backed off.

The presentation ended five minutes later, stiff and awkward. As the room cleared, he caught a few sidelong glances, a few too-quiet murmurs. But he didn’t care. He was still buzzing with that adrenaline of dominance, the way he always did after asserting control. It was familiar. Automatic.

But when he stepped into his office and saw her already there, standing near his desk, arms folded, expression unreadable—something in him pulled tight.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

“I just corrected the slide title,” she said. “You had the wrong quarter listed. It wasn’t to embarrass you.”

He shrugged, brushing past her toward his desk. “Then maybe next time you’ll think before you speak.”

She didn’t move. “You know, I’ve put up with a lot. The mood swings. The condescension. The hours.”

He looked up, something cold flashing behind his eyes. “Is there a point to this?”

“Yes,” she said. “There is.”

Her voice was steady. Calm. But there was a crack in it now—a fracture held together by sheer will.

He smiled. But it wasn’t kind. “Do you really think you matter here? You’re just another name on the payroll. Don’t mistake necessity for value.”

That was it.

The final blow.

And this time, she didn’t swallow it. She didn’t blink. She didn’t cry.

She laughed.

It was soft at first. Disbelieving. Then colder, darker—a sound pulled from some place buried deep inside her. It startled him. He hadn’t heard her laugh in weeks. Hadn’t seen her smile, not for real, in even longer.

“You know what, Harry?” she said, her voice low and tired and done. “I hope one day you realize what you lost. Not because I want to be missed. But because I want you to feel it. Just once.”

She reached for her badge. Popped it off. Placed it on his desk like it weighed nothing. Like he weighed nothing.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

She walked out of his office without another word. Past the desk she’d kept too tidy for too long. Past the glass doors. Past the stunned stares of a few late-working staff who turned just in time to see the ghost of Hurricane Styles’ assistant walking away with her head high.

No notice.

No drama.

Just a clean break.

And Harry, still behind his desk, still holding that last insult in his mouth like poison, realized something too late:

He’d finally broken her.

But she wasn’t the one who was going to pay for it.

He was.

Harry’s POV

He told himself he didn’t care.

Said it out loud, even. In his office, to his reflection, to the empty silence that used to hold her soft footsteps and the quiet rustle of papers being filed. He shrugged when Mitch asked what happened, rolled his eyes when Sarah from HR hinted they should reach out—just in case she had any materials to hand over. He waved it all off.

“I’ll find someone better,” he said flatly, sipping the wrong coffee made by a temp who had no idea he hated hazelnut. “She wasn’t indispensable.”

But the lie sat sour on his tongue.

The first week without her was logistical chaos. The temp assistant—two years younger and painfully eager—couldn’t read his tone, couldn’t keep up, and worst of all, kept asking questions. Dumb ones. Obvious ones. Ones she would have known before he even opened his mouth. The schedules were off. Calls missed. A client dinner was double-booked and he had to personally call and apologize.

He hadn’t made a personal apology in years.

By Friday, he’d snapped three pens in half and raised his voice more times than he could count. He barked at the intern for misprinting a memo and nearly slammed the door on Mitch when he came in with a project update.

The tension he used to wear like armor suddenly felt suffocating.

He lasted exactly six minutes in his office on Monday before storming out. The blinds were still half-drawn the way she always left them—just enough light, not enough glare. Her chair was pushed in, perfectly aligned with the desk. Her spare cardigan was gone, but the scent of her lotion still lingered faintly in the air. Clean. Subtle. Warm.

It punched something in his chest he didn’t know was tender.

He moved into the boardroom instead. Set up camp there like a child refusing to sleep in his own bed after a nightmare.

By week two, everyone knew not to mention her name.

He still caught himself pausing at 11 a.m., waiting for the sound of her humming while she filed. She used to hum the same tune when she was stressed—always off-key, always quiet. He never commented on it, never even acknowledged it. But now the silence grated.

So did the coffee.

He tried to make it the way she used to—just once. Burnt the beans. Stained his shirt.

The spiral was slow but steady. Every little thing reminded him of her. The seat in the elevator she used to lean against when they left late. The branded notepad she always carried, filled with tiny, organized handwriting. The pen she once borrowed and never returned—still in his drawer, chewed at the tip, because she had the annoying habit of biting pens when deep in thought.

And then there were the flashbacks.

The kind that crept up when he least expected them—sharp, vivid, unforgiving.

There was the day he’d come in with a migraine, growling at anyone who dared breathe too loud. She hadn’t said a word. Just dimmed the lights, closed his door, and left a cold compress on his desk. He never thanked her. Never even looked up.

Another time, she brought him soup. Chicken and rice. From some little place two blocks over. He hadn’t eaten all day, his voice was raw from back-to-back calls, and when she placed the container down with a quiet “It’s not a big deal,” he’d snapped.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

She hadn’t argued. Just nodded and walked out. But she never brought him soup again.

He should’ve said something then.

He didn’t.

Three weeks after she left, he found her coffee mug still in the back of the cupboard—white ceramic with a tiny chip on the handle. She used to joke that it was her lucky cup, and if it ever broke completely, she’d “take the hint and leave.”

He nearly dropped it.

Instead, he placed it back on the shelf like it was glass-thin, like it could still be salvaged if he just didn’t touch it too hard.

It was around week four when the real punch came.

He wasn’t even looking for it. He was on a news site, scrolling mindlessly, avoiding the stack of files he couldn’t bring himself to organize because no one was around to nag him about deadlines. And then he saw her.

It was a photo embedded in an article—some small piece about a new start-up shaking up the tech world. He wouldn’t have clicked it normally. But her face was there, radiant and easy, mid-laugh. Candid. Honest.

She was standing outside a building he vaguely recognized, arm looped with another woman, both of them holding champagne flutes. The caption said she’d joined the company as their new operations director.

Operations director.

She hadn’t just moved on. She’d leveled up.

And she looked...happy. Not performative, not polite—genuinely alive in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. Her shoulders weren’t tight. Her eyes weren’t dull. She wasn’t tired. She was free.

That was when it hit him.

He didn’t just lose his assistant.

He lost the one person who gave a damn.

The one who saw him—flaws, fury, all of it—and still showed up, day after day. Not because she had to. But because, at some point, she’d cared.

He used to believe fear was the best motivator. That respect was earned through intimidation. That keeping people at arm’s length meant control. He thought he was untouchable.

But the echo of her laugh still lived in these halls.

And her absence was loud enough to shatter glass.

The days dragged after that. He stopped snapping at people—not because he felt better, but because he didn’t feel anything at all. His office was cold. Clinical. The chair outside his door stayed empty most days, the temp too afraid to sit there for long. The entire floor felt off-balance, like the center of gravity had shifted and no one could quite walk straight.

Every time he saw her picture in that article, he stared at it a little longer.

He kept it open in a background tab.

It was pathetic. He knew that.

But it was also the only thing keeping him tethered.

Because if she could move on...then maybe, maybe there was still a sliver of something he could hold onto.

Maybe redemption wasn’t off the table.

But it wouldn’t come easy. And it wouldn’t come fast.

He’d burned that bridge with a blowtorch.

Now the question was whether there was anything left to rebuild.

The first text he sent was short.

Harry: I’m sorry.

No punctuation. No context. Just two words, tossed into the void of read receipts and silence. It stayed unread. A gray “Delivered” glaring back at him from his phone screen for hours, then days. He told himself maybe she changed her number. Maybe she didn’t see it. But deep down, he knew better.

The second message came two days later.

Harry: I didn’t mean what I said that day. I was angry. At myself. Not you.

Still nothing.

Then came the email. He drafted it at 2 a.m., sitting in the same boardroom he’d commandeered as his cave ever since her departure. He read it over twenty times before sending.

Subject: I owe you an apology.

“Y/N,

I’ve rewritten this a dozen times. Nothing feels like enough. I was wrong. About a lot.

You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. You weren’t just efficient, you were essential—to the company, yes, but also to me. I just didn’t realize it until you were gone.

I miss your steadiness. Your patience. Your fucking humming that used to drive me insane and now echoes in my head like a ghost.

I said things I regret. Things I can’t take back. But I need you to know—you mattered. You mattered more than I ever let myself admit.

If nothing else, let me say this to your face. You don’t owe me anything, but I hope you’ll give me five minutes.

H”

It bounced. Full inbox.

She’d blocked his email.

The next step should’ve felt like a line crossed. But he was already halfway through the wreckage of what he’d ruined—what was one more dent to the ego?

He showed up at her apartment building. Waited outside like a fool with a takeaway coffee and a note in his pocket he didn’t dare hand over.

She didn’t come out.

He tried again. And again.

Once, he saw the curtain shift. A shadow behind the glass. But the door never opened. She never came down.

He stood there for fifteen minutes longer than he should’ve, heart in his throat, hands freezing around the paper cup. And when it became clear she wasn’t going to face him, he tucked the note under the doormat and left without looking back.

He never found it there again.

Still, he couldn’t stop.

He checked her company’s press page obsessively. Memorized every project announcement, every update. She looked like she belonged there. Like she was thriving. There was a confidence in her posture that hadn’t existed when she worked for him. Like she finally had room to breathe.

It should’ve made him happy.

Instead, it gutted him.

The opportunity for confrontation didn’t come until six weeks later. It was an industry networking mixer, full of self-congratulatory execs and overpriced cocktails. He wasn’t planning to go, but Mitch had dragged him out—said he’d been a recluse long enough.

He hadn’t expected her to be there.

She wasn’t even in the main ballroom when he saw her—she was out on the terrace, standing by the railing with a drink in hand, backlit by soft string lights and city glow. Her hair was pulled up. Her dress was simple, but elegant. Understated power.

She looked…whole.

For a moment, he froze. Thought about turning around. Maybe he should’ve. But then she turned slightly, laughing at something someone said beside her, and the sound cracked something open in his chest.

So he walked.

His heart thudded with every step. His palms were damp. There were a thousand versions of this conversation he’d rehearsed in his head, but now, with her just a few feet away, he couldn’t remember any of them.

She noticed him before he could say anything. Her smile faded, her gaze hardening into something unreadable.

He stopped a foot away, gave her space. She didn’t move.

“Hi,” he said. Quiet. Careful.

“Harry.” Her voice was calm. Unmoved. The ice in her drink clinked as she swirled it slowly.

He waited. Nothing. No warmth. No invitation.

“I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“I know.”

Silence.

“I was awful to you,” he said finally. “I don’t even know where to start—”

“You don’t have to,” she cut in. “You said everything you wanted to the day I quit.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t care.”

It landed like a slap. Clean. Honest. Brutal.

She took a sip of her drink and looked past him, like she was already bored with the conversation. He could see the shift in her—the absence of the girl who used to hesitate before speaking, who used to shrink under the weight of his moods. That girl was gone. This version of her stood taller. Spoke clearer. Didn’t flinch.

And somehow, that made it worse.

“I was scared,” he said. “Of needing you. Of how much I depended on you. I pushed you because I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “So you punished me because you couldn’t manage your own emotions?”

“Yes,” he said, voice rough. “I didn’t see it then. But I do now.”

She stared at him, the silence stretching thin between them.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he added. “I’m not asking for things to go back to the way they were. I just needed you to know I’m sorry. That I miss you. That losing you was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

Something flickered across her face—small, fleeting. A crack in the armor. But it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“You miss the way I made your life easier. The way I knew your schedule, your moods, your coffee order. You miss the convenience.”

“No,” he said quickly. “I miss you. The person. The presence. The way you gave a shit even when I didn’t deserve it. The way you challenged me without ever raising your voice. The way you—” His voice broke. “The way you saw me. Even when I couldn’t see myself.”

A beat of silence.

Then she exhaled. Slow. Controlled.

“I used to think,” she said quietly, “that if I worked hard enough, stayed long enough, you’d see it. That you’d see me. Not just as an assistant, but as a human being.”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

“But I realized,” she continued, “that the problem wasn’t my effort. It was your inability to recognize value unless it screamed. I had to break to get your attention.”

“I know.”

She looked down at her glass. “I’m not angry anymore, Harry. I’m not bitter. I just… don’t want to go back to a place that made me feel small.”

“I don’t want that either,” he said. “If there’s even the smallest chance… I’ll do whatever it takes. Not to get the old dynamic back, but to build something better. On your terms.”

She looked up at him then, really looked at him.

And for the first time, he saw the cost. The weight she’d carried. The cracks she’d had to seal on her own.

“You don’t get to decide when I’m ready,” she said. “If I’m ready.”

“I know.” He stepped back slightly, giving her room. “But I’ll be here. However long it takes.”

She didn’t say anything. Just nodded once, small and measured.

He left her there, under the soft lights, the night cool against his skin.

For the first time, he didn’t walk away with answers. But he walked away knowing something had shifted.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.

The days that followed were quiet. Not the suffocating kind he’d grown used to, full of silence and unanswered messages, but the kind that forced reflection. He didn’t try to contact her again. Not right away. He didn’t loiter by her building, didn’t send another desperate email. He’d said his piece. Now, he had to prove he meant it.

That started with his own house.

Literally.

The place was a mess—not just physically, but emotionally. It still looked like it belonged to the version of him she’d left: sharp edges, cold surfaces, and schedules that ran tighter than his jawline used to. So he changed it. Started small. New photos on the wall—ones that weren’t just boardroom snapshots and event galas. He framed one of the office holiday party she’d organized three years ago. The one where she wore a ridiculous headband with blinking lights and somehow still managed to look composed.

He made space in his days that didn’t revolve around profit margins and investor calls. Therapy twice a week, no excuses. He started having actual conversations with his team. Not just directives. Not just performance reviews. Real check-ins. The kind he used to think were a waste of time.

He showed up. And not in the grand, dramatic gestures he might’ve leaned on before. No flowers sent to her new office. No extravagant apologies. Just quiet, consistent effort.

And slowly, word got around.

Mitch mentioned over lunch that she’d heard. That someone on her team had passed along the news—Harry wasn’t the same. He didn’t snap anymore. He listened more than he talked. And most shocking of all, he’d started mentoring junior staff.

“It’s not a magic trick,” Mitch had said, half-smiling. “But people are noticing.”

Still, she didn’t reach out. And he didn’t expect her to. He wasn’t owed anything.

So he focused on what he could control.

Then, one afternoon in early spring, a message arrived. Short. Neutral.

Y/N: Can you talk?

He stared at it for five minutes before replying.

Harry: Anytime.

They met at a quiet café halfway between her office and his. It wasn’t a date. She made that clear in her tone, her posture, the space she kept between them. But she’d come. And that was something.

“You’ve been busy,” she said, sipping her tea.

“I’ve had a lot to make up for.”

“I didn’t reach out because I needed space. I still do. But I’ve been watching. And I see the work.”

He nodded, unsure if it was his place to speak.

“This doesn’t mean anything changes,” she added. “But I want to see if… maybe we can start from zero. Slowly.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Whatever pace you need.”

They didn’t talk much that day. But the door had opened.

Over the next few weeks, they found a strange new rhythm. Occasional texts. Brief lunches. No talk of the past unless she brought it up. He learned to follow her lead, to listen without trying to fix or justify.

It wasn’t easy. He’d built his career on control, on always having the answer. But this wasn’t a boardroom. This was trust—raw, slow-growing, and fragile.

One afternoon, she visited his office. Unannounced.

“I was nearby,” she said, though the tremor in her voice hinted at something deeper. She looked around. The space had changed since she’d last seen it. Softer lighting. Fewer screens. A photo of his niece on the shelf, grinning with a missing front tooth.

“You’ve changed,” she said after a pause.

“I had to.”

“For you?”

“For me. But also because if I hadn’t, I would’ve lost everything. Not just you. Myself.”

She nodded slowly, then held out a folder.

“I’ve been working on something. A proposal.”

He blinked, surprised, then took it. Her name was on the first page. Director of Strategic Initiatives.

“This isn’t you asking for your old job back,” he said, flipping through it.

“No,” she said firmly. “It’s me offering to build something with you. As equals. Or not at all.”

He smiled then. Not the smug, closed-lip smirk she used to hate, but something softer. More real.

“I’d be lucky to have you.”

“You’d be smart,” she corrected.

He laughed, and for the first time in a long while, so did she.

The official announcement went out a month later. She’d accepted the position—but not in his division. She’d have her own team. Her own budget. Full autonomy. And he made it clear, in both the press release and the internal memo, that her success would have his support, not his interference.

Their collaboration started professionally. Emails, strategy meetings, pitch reviews. But something unspoken lingered beneath it all. A current. A history neither of them dared touch—until the night of the fundraiser.

It was raining. Of course it was.

He wasn’t sure if she’d come. It was a high-profile event, black tie, every reason for her to avoid it. But then she walked in.

Black dress. Hair down this time. Calm, confident. She scanned the room and found him almost immediately.

Later, when most of the guests had filtered out and the ballroom was half-empty, she found him on the balcony, staring out into the storm.

“I used to think rain was bad luck,” she said, stepping beside him.

He turned. “And now?”

“I think maybe it just… washes away the noise.”

He watched her for a long moment. Then finally, voice low, he said, “I meant it. Everything I said. That day.. I still mean it.”

She didn’t respond right away. Just looked at him, eyes searching.

“You’re still a bit of a hurricane, Harry.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Then let me be the one to rebuild what I tore down.”

She studied him. The vulnerability. The steadiness he hadn’t had before.

“I don’t need saving,” she said.

“I know. You never did.”

“But I might be ready to build something. Not because I miss what we had. But because I see who you’re trying to become.”

“And who are you?” he asked softly.

She tilted her head. “Someone who won’t settle. Not for less than mutual respect. Not for silence when there should be honesty. Not for anything less than real.”

“Then I’ll meet you there,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”

The moment stretched.

And then, under the city lights and the steady hum of rain, she stepped closer.

He didn’t move. Didn’t assume. Just waited.

She reached up, fingers brushing his cheek. Her kiss was gentle. No heat or desperation. Just truth.

When they pulled apart, she smiled—small, certain.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive everything.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“But it means I see you. And I believe you see me now too.”

He nodded, eyes stinging.

“I always did,” he whispered. “I just didn’t know how to show it.”

She touched his hand, lacing their fingers briefly before stepping back.

“Start with showing up,” she said. “Keep doing that. Day by day.”

“I will.”

And for the first time, he didn’t feel like he was chasing her shadow. He was standing beside her.

Present.

Ready.

This time, they’d build it right.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa @angeldavis777 @prettygurl-2009 @almostcontentcreator @run-for-the-hills @maudie-duan @dipmeinhoneyh @harrrrystylesslut @georgiarose94 @stylestarkey @watarmelon212 @hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @adoredeanna @secretisme4 @harry2121 @hopefullimaginer123 @fangirl509east @uncassettodiricordi @2601-london @zbaby @harryscherries28 @michellekstyles @alohajix

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #angst #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #fanfiction

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harmonysanreads · 8 months ago

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In Reca's ideal film, you'd be nothing more than a toy forced to spin at the twirls of a clockwork key ; a spectacle suspended in motion, complete allegiance to his direction, again and again in the palm of his hand. In that perfect shot, you would not rebel, fist against the surface of the screen in a plea to be leg go, no, you'd be easy to control.

“Do not be absurd, my dear! Has a bug chipped away at the film in your head? You would not survive a day away from my camera.”

The friction of his glove as it clasps onto the sinews of your arms clashes against the ricocheting waves of his voice in your ears. Cut! Cut! Cut! You need not return his stare to hear the panic reverberating through his head, just as he needs not respect a fraction of your personal space.

“My thoughts are perfectly lucid, director. I no longer wish to act under your guidance.” you push him back with a finger to his chest and he allows you to, his arms falling to his sides before rising with all the melodrama of a seasoned lunatic.

“What a way to say you wish me dead!” with a sweep, he's beside your stead.

“Have you forgotten your dream, my brightest star?” a brush of his breath against your ear, a firm grasp onto your wrist as it unfolds your hand towards the phantom of your wish, “What happened to that light that brought you to me?”

His presence, annoyingly, is as engulfing as it was the first moment you had the misfortune of meeting his acquaintance. A dwindling candle in a shadowed room, its flicker is too miniscule in comparison to the tenebrous monstrosity extending its talons towards the candle's light.

Contempt is the sole benefactor that keeps it alight, burning for a moment longer. A fruitless effort — rebelling is nothing more than running closer and closer to the dead end.

“It got snuffed out.” you tilt your head towards his pointed stare, in time to bear witness to the contractions of emotions vacillating in his eyes — building up up up before bursting forth in a supernova of laughter. Your feet nearly tangle amongst themselves as you try to move away from the disturbing sight, attempt thwarted by his insistent hand.

Reca's crackles slither to a burdened sigh, ruby eyes peek from between the crevices of the fingers of his free hand, “And, you allowed it.”

It should be incriminating for a sentence that calm to fizzle your nerves that quickly, “Non.. nonsense! It was you who clearly—”

Your heart jumps as the axis of your vision goes askance, red bleeds and paints the corners of your mind. “I did what?” the sting of his nails sinking into the flesh of your cheeks wakes you, “Come on, you can do it, love. Think. What did I do to you, clearly?”

“You... you made me into who I am today and, I can never even think of standing in front of the camera without your direction.” you heave.

“Brilliant! Just like this! If you continue performing this well, it won't be long before we can step up from these boring scenes and move onto shooting the truly heart-touching moments.” it is debatable whether your legs surrendered on their own or were forced to as the Memokeeper catches you, dragging along your limp form towards his vision.

“And when every scene has been shot, organized and edited to perfection, I'll keep it secure from everyone's grabby hands — for, this film is to be viewed by us alone.”

Hatred is the frailty of the weak, their last act of defiance before they embrace destruction. In Reca's hands, it is nothing more than a misdirection to achieve the most perfect shot, malleable to his whimsies.

#he's like a looney tunes character - anime version #mr reca #mr reca x reader #mr reca brainrot #yandere mr reca #yandere mr reca x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere

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svtswhorehouse · 11 months ago

Text

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader genre: mdni, smut warnings: reader’s birthday, little mention of bondage by ribbons, pussy eating, mentions of dom cheol, fingering, making out, slight finger sucking, pet names, mentions of a round two idk. word count: 1.8k synopsis: every year, like clockwork, your boyfriend never fails to wish you happy birthday the moment midnight strikes. this year is no different — and as always, he plans to make every single one of your wishes come true.

sidenote: it’s my birthday today so here’s a little something!!! hellllllllo twenty-one, you’re not ready for me!! also, i wrote this so quickly cause i was trying to get it out by my birthday so i apologize if it’s not that great.

You have always looked pretty in pink. It was your favorite color — one that made you stand out and surely one that appeared spectacular against your skin tone at the current moment.

You glanced up at the pretty ribbon tied in a cute little bow around your wrists. The piece of fabric once used for your hair now bounding your arms to the bedpost, preventing you from moving. You laid flat on the mattress, your body completely bare and head elevated by a soft pillow as you anxiously awaited the arrival of your boyfriend. Claiming he had a very important task to finish, Seungcheol unfortunately left the room right as things were just beginning to get heated. Despite saying it wouldn’t take that long, five minutes seemed to feel like years as your body was hot and your heart was racing.

With your eyes narrowing in on the clock, the time read 11:58 p.m and it was only two minutes away from an annual milestone in your life. As if right on cue, as soon as midnight struck, the door creaked open.

Your eyes flew to the entrance immediately, excitement on your face as your boyfriend entered. In his hands was a pink cake in the shape of a heart, sprinkles and edible glitter all around it to make it pretty. Candles displaying your age were lit at the top and waiting for you to blow them out as Seungcheol shielded the flame with one hand.

The boy smiled at you, walking closer to the spot in which you couldn’t move from. “Happy birthday baby.” He held the cake close to your face and you took the time to admire the beauty of it. Seungcheol was a man that took consideration and time into doing something, and although he didn’t make or decorate the cake himself, he definitely put thought into choosing it out from the bakery.

“Thank you Cheolie.” You spoke looking at him with eyes full of admiration and love at the kind gesture. He was always someone who scolded others who didn’t wish him at exactly twelve a.m whenever his birthday rolled around, so you could surely count on him to be the first person to wish you when it came down to it.

Seungcheol’s eyes lit up in slight excitement at your gaze. A blush was beginning to form on his cheeks, however he cleared his throat and it died down rather quickly. “Make a wish.” He encouraged.

Closing your eyes, you did as he said before opening them back up again. Directly in your line of vision was Seungcheol who’s gaze never left yours once as he took some of the buttercream frosting on his index and middle finger, holding them up to your lips.

“Open.” He said, the words sounding like a command.

Listening obediently, you opened your mouth wide and happily took in his fingers. You sucked the frosting clean off, coming to the conclusion that it was rather delicious as your tongue lingered to swirl around his digits. You were doing an impeccable job at maintaining eye contact with your boyfriend, the simple action causing his pants to tighten as his cock grew even harder when you let out a moan.

“Shit.” He mumbled under his breath, however it didn’t quite reach your ears as the only thing you could hear was the pop as soon as his fingers left your mouth. “What did you wish for pretty girl?” He asked, genuinely curious.

A seductive look was displayed on your face as you spoke in a whisper. “I think you know.”

Seungcheol waited a beat to gather himself before finally giving in and leaning down to crash his lips against yours. The kiss was soft at first, soon turning rough when he rested a hand on your throat. You let out a small sound of pleasure, Cheol taking advantage of the moment in which your lips parted to enter his tongue into your mouth. You allowed him to explore, your wet muscle intertwining with his in perfect harmony just as it always does.

As he pulled away to break the kiss, you were left with your lips chasing his, only to be held down by the restraint he put you in before. The boy chuckled as you tugged, looking at him with desperate doe eyes.

“You’re too cute.” He said before dipping down to trail light kisses along your neck and down to your stomach. “My pretty, pretty girl.” The praise left you whining for more, his sultry eyes adding more fuel to the fire as he got closer and closer to your lower regions. Your breath picked up, getting heavy as you anticipated his every move.

In one swift motion, Seungcheol grabbed your knees to tear them apart from each other and admire the spot between your legs.

The sudden act of your pussy being on full display for him caused you to shrink into yourself, feeling shy at his sudden attention on such an intimate part of your body.

“What baby?” Seungcheol asked, furrowing his eyebrows in fake curiousity as he noticed your timidity. “Isn’t this what you wished for.” He inched his face closer to your core with a shit eating grin — one that would of had you smacking the back of his head if it was any other time, but for now just had you begging for more.

“I-.” You tried to start, but was left speechless as the only thing you could pay attention to were the kisses he was beginning to leave on the insides of your thighs. He was far too close to the one spot that was craving the most of his attention, but it was left neglected as he skipped over it every single time. “Cheol.” You groaned, wiggling your hips as the impatience began to sink in. You were practically presented to him on a silver platter, but despite that he still refused to give you what you wanted.

Maybe he enjoyed seeing you suffer — or maybe he rather enjoyed the fact that he could see you getting wetter by the minute from his point of view the longer he made you wait.

At last, he finally laid a gentle kiss directly on your clit. The action caused you to let out a loud moan as you bucked your hips up in an attempt to grind against his face. Laughing to himself, Seungcheol was quick to wrap a strong arm around your waist to prevent your lower half from moving any more than it already has.

“Patience baby.”

You rolled your eyes at his words and let out a huff to audibly let him know that you weren’t happy with the denial of your pleasure. “But it’s my birthday!” You protested.

Seungcheol sighed, knowing that you were in fact right and it wouldn’t hurt to let you get what you wanted at least just for one night. “And whatever the birthday girl wants, the birthday girl gets.” He gave in, eyes softening slightly.

Although the inner dom in him wasn’t too happy about his choice of throwing in the towel, especially so soon — he still decided to grant your wishes, knowing that it’s your day and it’s what you wanted for the night.

A smile spread across your face as he spoke, but your mouth soon flied open and jaw went slack from the sudden connection of his tongue lapping at your cunt. “Fuck.” You mutter, head rolling to the side and eyes closing as his mouth explored you entirely.

You have been in this position about a million times before and still, every single time it never fails to amaze you just how talented your boyfriend is with his tongue.

His wet muscle pokes at your entrance, working in and out of you, occasionally trailing back up to your clit so he can trace circles around the bud. He switches from flicking to sucking, changing it up every so often just the way you like it.

“Feels good baby?” Seungcheol asks, his mouth unlatching for a split second to take in your expression.

“Mhm. S-so good Cheolie.” You found it hard to think as your boyfriend slowly slides a finger into your dripping hole. Whining at the intrusion, you wriggle your hips when he doesn’t move.

“What?” He asks, almost in a mocking manner. “You want more?”

You shake your head, nodding one too many times. “Yes please.” You answered nicely, hoping it does you some justice…and it does.

Seungcheol adds another finger, wiggling his two digits inside of you before slowly working them in and out. “Since you asked so nicely.” All too quickly, he begins to finger you at an excruciatingly fast pace as he dives into you once again. He eats you out as if he’s a starved man and you’re his last meal on earth.

You bit down on your lip rather hard, afraid that if you didn’t the neighbors might call the cops with a noise complaint. The sound of squelching reaches your ears as he finger fucks you, determined to make you cum all over his hand. He groans into your pussy, the vibration traveling up through your body and doing nothing but adding more to the pleasure.

The stimulation of his mouth sucking at your swollen bud and digits buried deep in your sopping wet cunt has you seeing stars. He can sense you’re close to cumming as your hole clenches around his fingers, helping add more friction against that spongy spot inside of you.

“Cum for me babygirl,” — and you do exactly that. With a loud moan ripping through you, your body begins to shake as your orgasm washes over. You can feel every bead of sweat gathering as well as your arousal dripping down and onto the bed, but you don’t seem to care as the only thing you can focus on is receiving what you finally wished for.

“Cheol.” You moaned his name desperately, thrusting your hips against his face as he continued with his relentless abuse on your cunt. He was determined to help you ride your orgasm out and not once did he let up until he was sure you were done.

Moving back up to your face, he placed a passionate kiss on your lips, letting you taste yourself. You were breathless and tired, chest heaving from the intense orgasm that he just gave you. “Happy birthday pretty girl.” He says yet again with a grin, but this time there’s a mischievous glint behind it. His lips run along your jaw, leaving small kisses as he allowed his hands to tangle in your hair. “You did so good hmm? My pretty girl.” You could do nothing but roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise, still coming down from the high you had just experienced.

Out of nowhere, still smothering you with kisses, he spoke again. “You can give me one more, can’t you baby?” He asked.

You attempted to protest, but couldn’t do so as you felt overwhelmed by the feeling of his lips on your skin. The only thing you seemed capable of was watching as he found comfort in the space between your legs yet again.

You were in for a long night, but happy birthday to you.

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