#To try and find and drag someone back to do work when they have made it difficult to reach out to them in any way

[selunefae]

a/n: first time doing headcanons. :p wanted to try it bc they're quicker to write. i was at the gym and got inspired. xD

masterlist | rules

Gymbro!Caleb who notices you the first day you step a foot into the gym. It’s not every day a cutie like you walks in, all nervous and tugging at your sleeves as you squint at the machines like they're some kind of torture devices.

Gymbro!Caleb who's always there at the distance. All big arms and even bigger chest, tank top clinging into his skin and leaving little to the imagination. You can't help but glance his way every time his muscles flex as he finishes a series. He's always wearing that gentle smile that makes it hard to focus on your reps.

Gymbro!Caleb who finally makes his move when he catches you struggling at the hack squat machine – legs shaking, form all wrong, far too much weight. He starers at you for a moment, then walks straight over with no hesitation and that damn smile. "Here, let me help you."

Gymbro!Caleb who absolutely didn't need to get that close to help you. His chest brushes your sides, one arm around your waist as he adjusts your back. From this distance, you can catch traces of his smell. The faint smell of sweat, faded deodorant, and something distinctly masculine. You're too dazed to protest.

Gymbro!Caleb who somehow always ends up at the gym during your sessions. Monday before work? He's there. A late friday evening? Still there. And every time, he finds a new excuse to keep lingering. "Want to take turns in press?" or "Let me lift this for you."

Gymbro!Caleb whose hands trail lower with every interaction. One day it's his hands brushing your stomach, another day his fingers ghost your thighs. And you don’t stop him. In fact, you start to look forward to those moments.

Gymbro!Caleb who visibly stiffens the moment another guy talks to you. His smile drops, his jaw tightens, and his brows knit together like he’s about to lift the entire gym floor. The guys always end up storming off when he appears behind you, but an instant later, he acts like nothin happened.

Gymbro!Caleb who starts bringing you snacks and protein-packed meals to eat after workout. At first, it's "I made to much and don't want it to go to waste", but two weeks pass by and he’s still doing it.

Gymbro!Caleb who smirks every time you mess up a set and get really flustered, just to brush it off with “Don’t worry, i’ll help you with whatever you need.” And he means it. But he wishes you needed him for more than just your reps.

Gymbro!Caleb who offers to walk you home one night after a late session and waits outside your building until he sees the lights in your room turn on. He doesn't care if he lives on the opposite side of town.

Gymbro!Caleb who’s never flat-out told you how he feels, but shows it in the little things he does. He wipes down every machine before you sit on it, never leaves until you're done, and makes sure you're eating enough.

Gymbro!Caleb who’s clearly into you, but you still think he’s just being nice.

Gymbro!Caleb who finally snaps when a cocky newbie tries to flirt with you near the dumbbell racks. He steps in mid-sentence, voice low and one hand resting on your shoulder. “She already has a trainer.” And suddenly, he’s twice his size and the guy’s gone.

Gymbro!Caleb who leans in right after, close enough that his breath warms your cheek: “Guess I’ll have to make you mine before someone else tries to snatch you.”

Gymbro!Caleb who drags you into the empty yoga studio that night, presses you against the wall, and kisses you like he’s been holding back for months. One of his hands traps you as the other hugs your waist, his kisses are hungry and messy. You let him, because you've been waiting to.

Gymbro!Caleb who might be territorial and a little too possessive, but completely melts the second you tug his hair and push him down.

Gymbro!Caleb who lets you take the lead, savouring how you rub agaisnt him as you continue desperately tugging at his hair and clothes. He could easily overpower you, but he likes seeing you in control. He likes that you think he's wrapped around your fingers, and maybe he is.

Gymbro!Caleb who still cooks for you after that night, who still checks your form and counts your sets and glares down every guy who glances your way. Especially now. Because now, he’s finally claimed you, and he’s not letting anyone else have you.

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Surprise

Sequel.

Uh. I forgot to say this was a Normal!AU in which they're all just kpop bands but with F!reader amongst them.

They're all humans.

Rumi and Jinu are just rivals.

And Mira and Zoey are going out.

You were at your house and scrolling through different job offers.

It's been a month since you quit.

When you quit being Huntr/X's assistant, you had enough savings to last you a decade of not working. If you didn't splurge or buy games.

But you did do those two things for like a whole week.

So that decade was halved and now here you are.

You sigh for the fifth time as you consider a manager gig.

"Fuck no. I don't want to see Rumi anymore." You say out loud but you know that it's an impossible thing to do. After all, she was a superstar. One for out of your house and you will somehow hear their newest single or one of their classics.

And it doesn't help that the trio somehow finds a new number everyday to call you.

You look through your house and sigh.

"Time to be productive." You clean your house that day while you wait for more job offers.

-

Rumi looks at everyone around the table and sigh.

"Still won't talk?" Zoey and Mira shake their heads.

"When she hears it's you, me or Mira, she immediately hangs up." Zoey says and Mira nods in agreement.

"Bobby?"

"She blocked me too! I was going to offer her a managerial job too."

"She probably doesn't want to. She probably wants to avoid Rumi as much as possible." Jinu says and Rumi scoffs at him.

"Shut up."

"I was just stating facts. If it was me trying to move on from someone who can't even tell the public that they love me? I would want to avoid them as much as possible." Everyone nods in agreement.

"You're not helping." Jinu holds his hands up.

"Just saying." Zoey gets a bright idea.

"Have YOU tried calling her?" Everyone looks at him.

"Hmm. I should give it a try."

-

You hear your phone ring and pick it up, hoping for another interview or job offer to come through.

"Hi. You've reached Y/N Y/LN. How can I-"

"You sound polite." The voice makes you freeze. It was familiar and not familiar.

"M-may I ask who this might be?" You sit on your couch.

"Jinu. I'm the leader of the Saja boys."

Ah. Rumi's new boyfriend. The one she told that you were just her assistant.

"Ah. Can I help you?" You can hear his chuckle.

"What a sudden change. You must hate me, right?"

"I don't hate you, Mr. Jinu. If this all you called for then-"

"It's not. Make sure to watch the Huntr/x's portion of interview later tonight. You'll find a surprise waiting for you."

"What?"

"I informed you. Oh. And one more thing. I absolutely have no interest in Rumi. She and I are purely work rivals."

"I-" He hangs up and you look at your phone.

"What the fuck?"

-

You were playing games on your console when you look at the clock.

The exact time those late night shows usually start.

"Fuck off. Stop thinking about her. Stop." You say to yourself but groan as you know your curiosity had already won.

"GOD! FUCK YOU, JINU!" You shout to your ceiling and save your game. You browse through the channels then stop as the screen shows Huntr/x appearing and sitting on the couch.

"Welcome back, everyone!" The host greets them warmly and the trio greets everyone.

"So. Your new single has been absolutely fire. Takedown has reached new records this week."

"It has truly been a blessing. Writing Takedown took so much out of us. We spent late nights buried in notebooks, lyrics and with our instruments." Zoey muses.

"I remember you always dragging Y/N to go on late night snack shopping."

"Right! Y/N! Most of your fans have noticed that your lovable assistant has been missing."

"What? The fuck????? ME???????" You question your life.

You????? PEOPLE NOTICE YOU?? HOW???

"Well, yeah. Y/N quit." Rumi says bluntly and everyone, the hose and audience gasp at the information.

"She did? Damn. That woman has always been a force of nature. Back when you guys first started, she always made sure you guys had more than enough screentime. I think if she could, she would the editor like a hawk." Everyone laughs at that, including the trio.

"Y/N has always been protective of us." Zoey says fondly.

"I'm telling you guys, she's really the true delinquent." Everyone chuckles at Mira's joke.

"She quit because of me. I was being insensitive. I was being secretive."

"Secretive? Of what?"

"My relationship with her." Everyone gasps and you freeze at her words. "Y/N and I are girlfriends. I never revealed it to the world because didn't want her to get hurt. For our fans to come after her." Rumi chuckles. "But to my surprise when she was just gone for a week, everyone looked for her." Rumi looks at the camera. "Thank you for caring about the girl that I love." Her words make your heart beat faster.

"So, is this you coming out? Are you saying that-"

"I'm bisexual. All three of us are." Mira and Zoey nod in agreement.

"And another announcement! Me and Mira have been dating for the past couple years!"

"That one was obvious, Zoey!"

"Yeah! Everyone knows!" Zoey shows a surprised at Mira who chuckles.

"Wait. They do?"

"Zoey, #MiraZoey always trend. Baby, you should really look at trend topics more." The endearment makes their fans squeal.

"I hope Y/N is watching this." Rumi looks at the camera then bows slightly. "I'm really sorry for making you wait. For saying you were only my assistant. But you're not. You're my partner in crime. My ride or die. You and your protective nature always shielded me and the girls. I have always loved you for that."

You turn off the TV quickly and you stare at the ceiling.

Why now?

Why do this when you left already?

"We both know why." The voice in your head says and you sob.

Because you were never enough.

Because you were just average.

Huntr/x and Saja Boys are gods. Idols.

What were you compared to them?

You cry to sleep that night.

-

You wake up to a loud knock on your door. You look around and see that it was just 6 am.

"Who the fuck knocks this early?"

"Y/N!" You scramble at the familiar voice. Why is your sister here at your house in the city??

You open the door and see Yuna.

"Finally. Pack your bags."

"What?"

"I'm dragging you back home. Pack for a week."

A/N:

Second part!

Third part is probably the last.

Probably.

Don't quote me.

Thanks for reading!

Donate if you can, because I'm still broke and PH economy is fucking annoying.

Ko-Fi is on my masterlist.

[over-and-over-and-over-and]

a little bit harder now ... || lottie matthews x reader

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

🩻 lottie "accidentally" discovers she yearns for the drag of teeth on her neck ... your bite is to blame

🔪 MDNI - biting , fingering ( lott receiving ) , porn without a plot

( uhm. once again constructive criticism welcome and appreciated (/gen) because this is my first time writing about pussy. something which i didn't think would be so difficult considering i fucking have one. )

🎵 "A Little Bit Harder Now" - She Wants Revenge

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"they say people who bite are the worst to have sex with."

it was a sleepover at jackie's house which somehow provoked the conversation. one of those friendgroup chats you have way past midnight when everyone is delirious and their filters had effectively been shut off.

lottie doesn't remember who brought it up - just that they made a point to explain how biters are supposedly violent, rough, and all around biting during sex was a no go.

unless you were into that kinda thing

ever since the sleepover lottie was stuck thinking about what was said - not the sleepy confessions or the half awake shit talk brought about by the short lived game of truth or dare ( the unpleasant sound of vomiting which chased the dare natalie received to swallow a raw egg was enough to kill the mood for the night )

the only thought running laps around lottie's brain for the following weeks was the idea of deep bite marks littering her collar bones.

she figured she'd let it live as a fantasy. her mind would wander and inevitably end up manifesting a daydream about someone shoving her down and digging their teeth wherever they could - her neck, tits, tummy, and thighs ... it honestly didn't matter where, so long as her skin was being broken by molars somewhere where she could admire it in the mirror the next morning.

it was a dream, that was all. something for her mind to toy with when she got bored and needed something exciting to chew on while her hand played with the waistband of her panties.

problem is, lottie has always had a bad habit of thinking out loud.

the original plan was a casual hookup because you've always known how to rock lottie's world just the way she liked it. she brings you to her place, entertaining conversation over mediocre takeout before you two are softly kissing in her living room. that quickly evolves into a hasty makeout session, one which has the two of you colliding into furniture as you try to find your way into lottie's room with minimal separation, articles of clothing being left in a messy trail along the way.

it isn't long until you're on the mattress, one of your hands interlocked with lottie's with your other hand tracing her inner thigh. as your fingers ghost over her entrance, she breaks the kiss and gives you the opportunity to nuzzle into the crook of her neck.

"bite me."

to be honest, she didn't mean to say it out loud - her mind lingers on how with your current position it would've been perfect. the words have already left her lips with a bit more authority than she would've hoped, and seeing as it's too late to take it back she tries to ease the moment with a gentle,

"please?"

you do as you're told, gently nipping at her skin all the while running your fingers through her folds - she's pretty wet, something you take as a sign to push one of your fingers in. her breath hitches as you curl your finger, words attempting to form but getting lost underneath her shaky gasps.

" ... bite ... harder ... "

eventually she finds her words while you push another finger in. you bite her again, properly this time, earning a sigh which breaks into a moan as she struggles not to buck her hips.

you don't mean to bite her as hard as you do - you've always been a piss poor multitasker and as such sacrifice your focus on being delicate with her skin in favor of thrusting your fingers just right. whatever you did seemed to work as lottie quite literally whines and tosses her head back. a soft thud echoes around the room, which you don't immediately process as lottie accidentally hitting her head against the bedframe until you realized that simple action earned yet another soft gasp from her lips.

"m ... m ... more ... harder ..."

her words are dissected by a mean stutter, one that you've come to recognize as a telltale sign that she's getting close. you're not quite sure if she's requesting you work your fingers faster, or you sink your teeth into her neck once again-

as a middle ground you decide to do both.

your arm begins to ache from how hard you pump your fingers, and it almost feels nice to distract yourself when you focus on clamping your teeth onto lottie's skin. you pull back, kissing the tender spot you had been attacking and she seems to quietly whimper in the few seconds your mouth isn't pressed against her neck. as you try to work your fingers faster, you press your lips into her shoulder, kissing it softly before biting as hard as you could muster. temporarily you feel bad for intentionally hurting her, but it's quickly washed away as her moans continue to grow in volume the more you work your jaw.

you feel like a goddamn vampire, all too unsure if this is really a good idea, but before you can think about it for too long lottie's orgasm crashes into her. no more desperate pleas leave her lips as her eyes squeeze shut and the only thing she can manage are loud gasps and louder groans. you work her through it, removing your teeth from her shoulder and instead gently kissing her cheek and jawline as she cums on your hand and her thighs.

her eyelids flutter open as she shakily sighs, and you bring your hand up to lick her cum off your fingers but before you get the chance she grabs your hand and takes your fingers into her own mouth, quietly moaning as she tastes herself while rolling her tongue over your knuckles. her big brown eyes stare into your own, and you can't help but admire your handiwork as you take in the sight of her pleasantly blissed out state.

and then you notice her neck. red, bruising, and tender.

wordlessly you watch as she presses the marks on her skin, sighing as her fingers prodded the newly forming bruises.

"sorry i didn't mean to ... i just got kinda caught up in the moment -"

lottie shushes your quiet apology, grabbing your hands and pressing them against her thighs. she then taps the other side of her neck, clean skin free of bitemarks.

" ... do it again. please."

[clockwayswrites]

@wandixx

Either of them come across lost kid in the crowd

When Auntie had suggested going to the park for some fresh air, Carry had agreed. Of course he had. She could have suggested he throw himself into the water and he probably would have done it. (Assertiveness was still a work in progress.) He didn’t think, though, that she knew about the festival going on.

Or maybe she had?

Carry doubted anyone really knew what sort of things were part of her plotting or just her good luck.

It was just that… now he was in the middle of a festival. There were people and a cacophony of noises and bright colors and people. Carry took a breath and let it out slowly. He counted to ten. He didn’t know how much it helped, but he walked into the crowd anyways.

Maybe he could find somewhere in the shade to sit, and, if not, he could at least say that he tried. It was just people. He used to have no issue with crowds of people. He even used to enjoy them! But he used to be a lot of things, hadn’t he? Before he was a failure.

Carry shook is head, trying to get rid of that thought.

It was a festival.

Be happy.

Carry squeezed past people, dodged small children, pet a few dogs, and finally made his way to where he could hear the band currently playing in the pavilion. They weren’t bad, in an inoffensive way, so Carry found a spot of shade to sit in and listen.

The life of the festival ebbed and flowed around him. Kids went off and came back with hands full of cotton candy or balloons or large off brand stuffed animals. Young couples kissed. Old couples dragged each other out onto the makeshift dance floor.

It… it was nice.

Simple.

Happy.

Carry was just considering actually getting himself a churro when the unmistakable sound of a kid’s sob broke the air. That wouldn’t mean much, not at a busy festival, but there was no comforting parent voice following the sound up.

“D-daddy? M-mommy?” The sob came again.

Carry looked into the crowd. No kid. Right, left… then behind the tree. A kid—little enough that Carry figured elementary school was an okay guess—was rubbing at their eyes. A balloon was clutched desperately in their other hand, as if it was the only thing keeping them safe.

Carry crouched down to the side of the tree. “Hey. I’m Carry. What’s your name?”

“H-harper.”

“Nice to meet you Harper. I love your balloon,” Carry said with a smile. “The confetti in it is really cool.”

“Thank you,” Harper mumbled. They finally peered out at Carry from over their tear stained fist.

“You’re welcome. Are you okay? Did you lose your parents?”

Harper nodded. Their lip wobbled.

“That’s okay, we’ll find them,” Carry said with more confidence than he ever had. He’d make sure someone did, even if they ended up needing to go to security. “Do you remember where you last saw them?”

“The b-balloons,” Harper mumbled. Slowly they found their voice. “Daddy got me my balloon and then Mommy called over by the… um… the lemon ice! I tried to hold his hand I promise!”

“I’m sure you did. But there’s so many people it can be a little hard,” Carry said. “How about you hold my hand for a little bit, and we’ll go back by the balloons, okay? If you’re ever lost, you should stay where you lost your parents or teacher so they can find you.”

“Okay, thank you,” Harper said. They rubbed their hand against their t-shirt, smearing tears over the pink dinosaur, before they reached out and took Carry’s hand in theirs.

The hand felt almost impossibly small as they started off into the crowd. Carry was very sure to not let go as they moved rather slowly towards the balloon stand. Which at least was easy to see even with the crowd.

The balloons were looming close when a shout cut through the noise. “Harper!”

“Daddy!” Harper yelled back.

Carry still didn’t let go until the man was right there, dropping to his knees in from of Harper and pulling them into a hug.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry that I let go! I didn’t mean to,” Harper’s dad pleaded into her hair as he hugger her close.

“It’s okay Daddy! Carry helped me! They held my hand the whole way!” Harper said, cheerful in the way that only a little kid could be after something traumatic.

Their dad looked up. “Thank you so much—”

“Harper!”

“She’s here!” the Dad said. He hoisted Harper up onto his hip as he stood.

The woman who had called out ran up and kissed Harper on the forehead, talking frantically to her in a language that Carry could only barely recognize.

“Carry here helped Harper find us,” the dad said, with a little wave of his fingers towards Carry.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you,” the mother said as she took Carry’s hand.

“It was nothing—”

She let go of his hand after another squeeze before she dug around in her cross body bag. “Please, take this.”

“No, it’s okay,” Carry said, waving away the offered money. “I’m just glad that we found you so quickly.’

“We insist,” Harper’s dad said.

“Really, it’s fine!” Carry said. “ Remember Harper, if you get lost again stay near where you were lost, okay?”

“Yes Carry!” Harper chirped.

“Thank you again, really,” their dad said.

“Yes, thank you,” their mom urged with another shake of Carry’s hand.

When they disappeared into the crowd, Carry was left with a twenty dollar bill in his hand and a feeling of exasperated bemusement. He was getting some churros he guessed and maybe even a frozen lemonade. He could stay a little longer.

Just a bit.

---

AN: Sad Puppy got a name! (Carry, short for Carson. Might become Cary?). And was more anxious than expected? This is probably pre-story but ㄟ( ▔, ▔ )ㄏ. Hopefully you like him.

[blazingauraheartworld]

Does anyone know why the Kazumi Magica artist went AWOL like you said to dreamerwitches?

That’s the fascinating thing, right? I can’t seem to find anything about them deciding to. I feel like someone would have likely noticed if the artist had put out a ‘I’m deleting everything.’ or any sort of similar vibe before it happened. 

The Cuddly Despairs event ran in October, 2021. The artist did the CG art as well as art for the newly unlocked *5 stars + new Kazumi. Sometime between that event and potentially July/August ish of 2024 ( since there was no ‘goodbye’ art piece made featuring Kazumi characters when Magia Record EOS when everyone Else did one) is when the artist seemingly deleted their online presence. 

Now, the rest is under a read more just because I find this situation fascinating, but is really just pure speculation on my end.

Kazumi Magica is such an interesting existence in the catalog of madoka spin-offs, precisely because it seems as if both the creators ( writer and artist) of the manga aren’t very interested in involving themselves further in the Madoka Magica series as a whole than the story they made. I can’t tell if it’s because there’s two people who worked on it vs the other spin-offs, where the artist And writer were the same person, that’s created this sort of vibe where Kazumi keeps getting excluded from the cool magical girl club. Tart also was a two party team with Masugitsune & Kawazuku (under Golden Pe Done), but Masu alone was plenty active in helping with designing new characters and doing multiple Tart events.

I had a whole thing here getting into it the thick of it, but very much every spin-off artist that had their story shown off in the Exedra trailer (GAN, Masugitsune, Kuroe Mura) have all given some form of contribution to Magia Record during the game’s run, if not still doing artwork for the main series, like the MagiReco anime end cards and other miscellaneous works. 

I’m not expecting Masaki Hiramatsu( Kazumi Writer, still around) to have picked up a tablet pen and done something in place of no longer having an artist for his series. He seems to be plenty busy writing for the Bleach anime right now by the looks of things. I want to make it clear : I do not think he does not care for Kazumi. He clearly does with how he didn’t like how the first Magia Record Kazumi event was written, and then seemingly assisted with it on the second go. I feel as if the same would likely happen for Exedra too to ensure the story is properly retold. 

anywhos!

Simply put, I believe the artist of Kazumi Magica, for one reason or another, retired from being an artist or does not want their art to be available online. 

This is slightly unrelated, but to give you an idea where I’m going with this, I occasionally buy adopts and customs from other artists, and if I had a nickel for every artist I’ve worked with that has scrapped their existence from the Internet entirely due to AI concerns, I would have eight nickels. Again, I cannot confirm nor deny that is why the Kazumi artist decided to scrub everything, as we do not have an official confirmation. However, it would not surprise me if that was the case.

Even if unlikely at this point, the artist could always make a comeback to work on Exedra! I feel like they might leave Kazumi as the last spin-off they'll add, just to sorta see if they could maybe Find said artist. I’m just…not holding my breath for it as of now.

Which comes to another question: When Kazumi inevitably gets added to Exedra, who is going to do the art? I know there’s someone on the f4 team that can do a good impression of Ume Aoki’s art style, but I’m not sure if they can do the same with Kazumi…? I feel like there are many artists around and involved in the series now that there’d be someone who wouldn’t mind picking up the task…

[carnalcrows]

Terms and Conditions Applied

pariring: gangster! male OC x male reader [profile]

summary: You're a single dad, drowning in debt, barely holding it together for your daughter. But when loan collectors come knocking a little too hard, you find out your debt belongs to someone far more dangerous: Felix Marino, the quiet but infamous head of one of the most powerful mafia syndicates in the world. He makes you a deal—your freedom, for a job. One job. But nothing is ever that simple in his world. Especially when you're not sure what terrifies you more: the blood on your hands, or the way Felix looks at you like you belong to him.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, explicit violence, blood and trauma aftermath, mild panic attack / dissociation, threats and coercion, organized crime themes, single parenthood under duress, mild sexual content, handjob (reader receiving), power imbalance, emotional manipulation, PTSD-like symptoms.

word count: 4.9k

The knocks came hard and fast.

They rattled the apartment door like gunfire—three hits, pause, two more, and a final slam that made the hinges groan. You froze mid-step, a half-unpacked grocery bag dangling from your fingers. Inside it, a bruised apple rolled to the floor.

Not again.

You scanned the room automatically, as if the act of tidying clutter might somehow soften the blow of reality. But the apartment was already bare. Sparse. Clean, in that way that says we don’t have much, but we’re trying.

A soft voice drifted from the hallway behind you. “Papa?”

You turned. There she was—your daughter. Four years old, hair mussed from a post-nap world, her favourite stuffed rabbit trailing from one hand. She rubbed her eyes with the other, blinking at you.

Your heart clenched.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said quietly. “Go back to your room, yeah? I’ll be right there.”

“But who—”

“Just the mailman,” you lied, kneeling down to smooth her hair. “He’s loud today.”

She stared up at you for a beat longer than usual, as if her tiny brain could already tell something wasn’t quite right. Then she nodded solemnly and padded back down the hallway, the rabbit dragging behind her like a weary soldier.

The knocking came again. Louder this time.

You straightened up, set the bag on the counter, and took a breath.

When you opened the door, the two men standing on the other side looked like they'd been born in leather jackets—one tall, one squat. Neither looked thrilled to be here, but they sure weren’t leaving empty-handed.

“Morning,” said the taller one, stepping forward without waiting for an invitation. “Nice day, huh?”

You didn’t respond. He took that as agreement.

“Mr. [Last Name],” said the shorter one. “We’re here about the debt.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you also know your payment was due four days ago.”

“I told you,” you said. “I’m working extra shifts. I’m doing what I can.”

The taller man walked a slow circle around your living room, peering at the cheap furniture like it offended him. “A place like this, I’m surprised you haven’t sold the kid’s toys yet.”

Your jaw tensed. “She’s four.”

The shorter man clucked his tongue. “And if you don’t have something by Friday, you’re going to be explaining that to the Boss in person. You know how he feels about delays.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.”

They left without another word. The taller one flicked a crumpled cigarette onto your doormat and stomped it out as a parting gift.

You shut the door. Locked it. Then leaned against it with your eyes closed.

⋆｡°✩  

The silence in the apartment returned slowly, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft patter of small feet against tile.

“Papa?”

You opened your eyes and looked down. She was back, rabbit in hand.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She wrapped her little arms around your leg, hugging you as best she could. Her cheek pressed against your jeans. “You’re not sad?”

You knelt again and pulled her into your arms properly, breathing in the smell of strawberry shampoo and comfort.

“I’m okay now,” you whispered into her hair. “Because I have you.”

⋆｡°✩  

You made pancakes for dinner.

It wasn’t your best work. The batter was too thin, the pan unevenly heated, and the only syrup left was the cheap, knockoff kind that smelled more like corn than maple. But she still grinned when you put the plate in front of her, legs swinging from the dining chair as she kicked at nothing in particular.

“Can I put peanut butter on it too?” she asked, already reaching for the jar.

“Only if you save a piece for Mr. Bun.”

“I always do,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it were some sacred pact between her and the stuffed rabbit.

You watched her eat, chewing slower than usual, trying to stall the moment. The kitchen light flickered overhead. The stack of unpaid bills on the counter seemed to grow by the day, and rent was due in less than a week. You didn’t know how you were going to pay off the collectors by Friday, let alone face the man behind them— the one they called their boss, in hushed, clipped tones.

A name you’d never heard until two weeks ago. A name that now haunted every idle moment.

You’d tried not to ask too many questions, but the way the others spoke about him made your skin crawl. Not loud, not showy — but dangerous. Not because of violence, but because of how controlled he was. And how rarely he needed to raise his voice to get things done.

You only owed him money because your original lender sold the debt off.

It wasn’t supposed to get this far.

“Papa?”

You blinked out of it. “Yeah, bug?”

She looked at you with peanut butter smeared on her chin. “Can we read the owl book again tonight?”

You smiled, even if it felt thin on your face. “Of course.”

⋆｡°✩  

She fell asleep curled beside you on the couch, mid-sentence, head tucked against your arm. The copy of The Owl Who Wasn’t Afraid of the Dark lay open in your lap, thumb still pressed to the page.

You didn’t dare move her. Not yet.

The room was quiet now, except for the muffled hum of the hallway outside. You could still hear footsteps every now and then—neighbours coming home, doors opening and shutting. It was the kind of rundown apartment block where the walls had ears, but no one cared enough to listen.

You leaned your head back and stared at the ceiling, one hand gently smoothing your daughter’s hair.

Then came the buzz of your phone.

You fumbled for it quietly, careful not to wake her.

Unknown Number

You stared at it. A second buzz followed — a text.

[ The Boss would like a word. You’ll want to make yourself available.

Tomorrow. 10 PM. Zia’s Diner. Come alone. ]

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to. Whoever sent it would already know you’d be there.

⋆｡°✩  

Zia’s Diner looked like it hadn’t changed since the '80s. Flickering neon sign. Red leather booths dulled from wear. Grease-stained menus laminated so many times the corners curled like dying leaves. It was the kind of place that smelled like burnt coffee and fried onions no matter what time of day you walked in. The kind of place where someone like you belonged.

Someone like the one you owe money to? Not so much.

You got there ten minutes early. Sat in the back corner booth, facing the entrance like you’d seen people do in mob movies. Ridiculous, really — like knowing who sat where would make any of this easier.

The waitress came by once, chewing gum and offering you a tired, sceptical look. “You ordering, or you waiting?”

“Just coffee,” you muttered, and she poured you a cup without a word.

You kept checking the time.

10:00 PM sharp, the bell above the door jingled.

He didn’t walk in with an entourage. No theatrics. No broad-shouldered bodyguards or gaudy suits. Just a man in a black wool coat, collar turned up against the wind, dark hair swept back with the ease of someone who didn’t need to try.

He didn’t look like a loan shark. He looked like he could be an architect. Or maybe a violinist. His features were clean-cut but strangely gentle, like someone who hadn’t always belonged to a world like this.

And then he looked at you.

A quick once-over. Not judgmental. Just... observant.

He made his way over with unhurried steps, slid into the booth across from you, and removed his gloves one finger at a time. The silence stretched, thick and taut.

“I’m glad you came,” he said at last. His voice was low, smooth, but not performative. Not like someone trying to play a role. “I didn’t want this to become unpleasant.”

You swallowed hard. “I figured it already was.”

He tilted his head slightly, almost like he was considering you. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You didn’t answer.

The waitress reappeared, looking more alert this time. “Coffee?”

“Tea,” he said, without looking at her. “Chamomile, if you have it.”

You blinked. Tea?

Once she left, he turned his gaze back to you. “You’re a difficult man to track down, considering you haven’t left your apartment in three days.”

Your jaw clenched. “I’ve been with my daughter.”

“I know.” His tone didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes now. Not softness — but interest. “She’s the one who likes the owl book, right?”

You stiffened. “You’ve been watching us?”

“I have people. They were concerned. It’s their job.”

“Concerned about what?”

He paused. Then: “About how a man ends up this deep in debt when he’s clearly not reckless.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Because the worst part was— he wasn’t wrong.

He leaned back, resting his hands on the table. His fingers were long, elegant— with tattoos running across them.

“I didn’t call you here to threaten you,” he said calmly. “If I wanted to scare you, I’d have sent someone else.”

“So why did you call me here?”

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to answer. But then the tea arrived. He thanked the waitress with a quiet nod, waited until she was gone again.

And then he said:

“Because I don’t think you belong in this mess. And I’m interested in seeing how you get out of it.”

You stared at him, not sure if it was a trap. A test. Some kind of manipulation.

“Why?” you asked, voice quiet now. Honest.

He stirred a packet of honey into his tea. No rush. No tension. “You remind me of someone.”

That shut you up.

Not because you knew what it meant, but because of how he said it. Like it hurt to say. Like the memory was still raw, even if the delivery wasn’t.

He took a sip of his tea, eyes never leaving yours.

“Let’s talk about your debt,” he said.

⋆｡°✩  

You tried to read him. Failed.

Everything about him was composed — the measured way he spoke, the way he held his tea with both hands like it was a habit rather than a choice. His voice was quiet but sure, like he’d never once had to raise it to be heard.

He didn’t move like a man used to violence, but you knew better than to trust that.

“You said you wanted to talk about my debt,” you said after a beat, keeping your voice steady. “So talk.”

He gave a soft hum, almost amused. “Alright.”

From the inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a thin leather folio and opened it on the table. You caught your name on one of the papers. Your signature on another. A string of numbers you didn’t want to look too closely at.

“I assume you know how much you owe.”

You nodded once. “Too much.”

“You’re not wrong.” He tapped a finger against the paper, not unkindly. “You took out the first loan eighteen months ago. Medical bills, yes?”

You stiffened. “My daughter was in the hospital. Pneumonia. We didn’t have insurance.”

He nodded like he already knew, which he probably did.

“And the second loan,” he continued, “was for rent, food, and utilities. You were out of work.”

“My hours got cut,” you muttered.

“And the third?”

You looked away. “Funeral expenses.”

Silence settled again. Not judgmental. Just quiet.

He closed the folder gently and folded his hands on top of it. “There are… less generous men you could’ve borrowed from. Men who would’ve already left a message on your doorstep. Or through your window.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice in where the loans came from,” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

He didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Just watched you like he’d been expecting that edge to come out eventually.

“You’re right,” he said. “You didn’t. But you have one now.”

That gave you pause. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back, eyes steady.

“It means I’m offering to restructure your debt. Reduce the interest. Extend the timeline. Provide resources, if you need them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He didn’t smile — but his mouth twitched, like he almost did.

“I told you. You remind me of someone.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is to me.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. Couldn’t decide if this was some twisted act of pity or a long con. But you weren’t used to people giving you anything. Especially not someone with this much power—with hands that clean, a gaze that calm, and a reputation like his.

He took another sip of his tea.

“I don’t expect you to trust me,” he said, almost kindly. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. But I want you to understand— I’m not doing this to trap you.”

“Then what do you want?”

His fingers paused on the edge of the cup.

“I want you to keep your daughter,” he said simply. “I want her to grow up safe. With her father.”

Something in your chest twisted. You looked down, jaw tight.

“That’s not your business.”

“Maybe not. But I’ve made it mine.”

You looked up again, and this time, there was no softness in your voice. “What do you get out of it?”

A longer pause.

He studied you, not like a man considering what to say, but like he was wondering how much you could handle. Like he’d already made up his mind.

“I’m not the villain you think I am,” he said finally. “But I’ve been one before. I know what it takes to get out.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Your hands curled around your coffee cup, suddenly aware of the chipped ceramic, the cool air from the vents brushing your neck. A waitress refilled a glass of soda at another table. The world kept moving.

He stood slowly, gathering the folder and slipping it back into his coat.

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he said. “But I’ll have someone drop off the new terms tomorrow. Look them over. Think about your kid.”

He turned to leave, then paused and glanced back at you one last time.

“And think about who you want to be when she looks back on this.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

⋆｡°✩  

You didn’t expect it to come in an envelope.

White. Thick. No return address.

It was on your doorstep when you got home from picking Nora up from daycare — tucked under the welcome mat like some dead thing left by a cat. You stared at it for a full minute before bending to pick it up, heart low in your chest.

She tugged on your sleeve. “What’s that, Daddy?”

“Nothing, bug.” You smiled, but your voice didn’t rise with it. “Go on in. I’ll be right there.”

She slipped past you with a squeal, barreling into the apartment and tossing her little backpack onto the floor. You shut the door behind her, thumb tracing the edge of the envelope as you walked to the kitchen. The light through the window was already fading to that washed-out grey of too-late afternoons. You tore it open without ceremony.

Inside: four pages, paper thick enough to feel expensive. No header, no signature — but you recognised the same smooth, sparse formatting from the mans’s folder at Zia’s—the new terms.

You skimmed.

Then read slower.

Then stopped.

He was serious.

— Outstanding balance: reduced by 40%. — Interest: frozen, pending further review. — Monthly payments: deferred for 3 months. — Conditions:

That last part made your stomach twist.

1. You will be reachable at all times. 2. You will submit proof of employment weekly. 3. You will meet with Mr. Marino in person at a time and place of his choosing. Frequency: open. 4. You will not attempt to renegotiate through any party other than Mr. Marino himself. 5. You will not disappear.

Regards, 

Felix Marino

That last line wasn’t underlined. But it didn’t need to be.

You sat down, the chair scraping across the tile.

It was clean. Too clean. He’d carved out the brutality and left behind something you could stomach — just enough rope to pull yourself up. Or hang yourself with.

In the distance, you heard Nora humming a song from her cartoons.

And you realised: you were already considering it.

⋆｡°✩  

The house is quiet after Nora falls asleep, sprawled out in her tiny bed with her stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin. You'd cleaned the chocolate from her face, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead like always. Pretended like nothing was wrong. Like there wasn’t a folded letter in your coat pocket that felt like it weighed more than your whole damn life.

You sit at the kitchen table, hands steepled, staring down at it again.

Felix Marino’s terms are clear:

Six months of contracted work

Weekly check-ins at a private location downtown

No questions asked about the nature of the work.

No outside contact with “competing interests”

Nora is off-limits. Her name isn’t even mentioned.

That part almost makes it worse.

Because you don’t think Felix left her out of the contract out of kindness.

You think it’s because he sees her as yours. And what belongs to you, by extension, belongs to him now.

You grip the paper until the crease deepens. This is a deal with the devil, no matter how cleanly it’s written. Still, you’ve seen worse. You’ve lived worse. And if this means keeping Nora safe—keeping your home, your job, your sanity—then what choice do you really have?

You’ll meet his terms. But you won’t let him sink his claws in.

You won’t let him think he has you.

Your phone buzzes on the table. A message. Just a location, a time.

[ Tomorrow, 11 AM.

Wear something decent. ]

You stare at the screen for a while before flipping it over and standing up. You clean the counter. Rinse the mugs. Check the locks on the doors twice. It’s routine, but you do it slower tonight.

Just before bed, you peek in on Nora one more time.

Her tiny chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. There’s drool on her pillow. You swallow the knot in your throat.

You hope to god she never has to know how close you came to losing everything.

⋆｡°✩  

The address Felix gave leads to a storefront with blackout windows and no signage. Inside, it's cleaner than expected. Sleek. Minimal. You’re greeted by a man in a tailored suit who doesn’t ask your name — just waves you through with a nod like you’re already known here.

You are, apparently.

A hallway. A door. A quiet room with a view of the city skyline. Felix is seated behind a polished desk, flipping lazily through a folder.

He doesn’t look up when he says, “You came.”

“Not like I had a choice.”

“Sure you did. You just didn’t like the alternatives.”

He gestures to the chair across from him. You sit, tense.

He finally lifts his gaze, eyes still unreadable. “How’s Nora?”

You narrow your eyes. “Fine. And she’s not part of this.”

“I never said she was.” He leans back, steepling his fingers. “Though you should know, this isn’t charity. You’ll work. I’ll watch. If I don’t like what I see, the terms change.”

“And if I don’t like what I see?”

“Then I’ll be disappointed,” Felix says, smooth as silk. “And trust me — you don’t want that.”

There’s a pause. You hate how calm he is. Like this is all part of some carefully laid plan. Maybe it is.

“You always recruit desperate dads into your service?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

You clench your jaw. “Why me?”

Felix shrugs, almost too casually. “Doesn’t matter.”

But it does matter. You can feel it.

The way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s trying to find someone else in your face. Like you’re unfinished business.

You stand. “I’ll do what you asked. But keep the personal shit out of it.”

Felix watches you with that same unreadable gaze. “Whatever you say.”

But you can tell he’s already rewriting the rules.

⋆｡°✩  

You’d expected something bloodier.

Maybe it was the envelope. Maybe it was Felix’s eyes, the way he looked at you like you were already halfway his. Or maybe it was just the way his name lingered like a shadow behind every line of those new “terms.” Whatever it was, you thought there’d be blood. Screaming. A pipe wrench. Something straight out of a bad movie.

Instead, you’re standing outside a warehouse that looks too clean to be dangerous, which somehow makes it worse.

You glance down at the slip of paper again. One name. One address. Gallo. That’s all he gave you. No instructions. No backup. Just the duffel bag in your hand and a phone in your pocket that vibrated exactly once with a location pin and then went dead silent.

You should walk away. You should. But you think of Nora. Think of the groceries on the table this morning — not from your wallet. Think of the sharp suits you saw at your building’s entrance yesterday. Men who didn’t belong there. Men who made eye contact just long enough to remind you that you were being watched.

So you step inside.

The warehouse isn’t abandoned, but it’s not busy either. The air smells like oil and dust, and the lights overhead buzz faintly with age. You follow the sound of metal scraping across concrete until you see him — mid-40s, thick arms, cigarette tucked into the side of his mouth like it’s permanent.

“You Gallo?” you ask.

He looks up, unimpressed. “Who’s asking?”

You don’t answer. Just unzip the duffel and pull out the envelope inside — thick, sealed, and marked with the same insignia that was embossed into Felix’s letterhead.

He snorts. “About time.”

You hand it over. He rips it open, eyes scanning quickly. You can’t see the paper, but whatever’s written on it makes his jaw twitch.

“I paid last week,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You don’t move. Felix never said what to do after delivering the message. But you know better than to leave right away.

Gallo crumples the paper. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. Then louder, “Tell Marino if he wants more outta me, he can come collect it himself.”

You exhale slowly. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”

He steps forward, chest puffed. “No? Then how does it work, ragazzo di merda?”

There’s a tension now — heavy and tight, like the moment before thunder. You don’t flinch, even when he gets close enough for you to smell the smoke on his breath. But your fingers twitch.

This isn’t a test of violence. It’s a test of restraint.

And you’re not sure which you’re worse at.

He laughs like he’s already won. Then, just when the silence threatens to stretch too far, he spits — right at your shoes.

You move fast. Maybe too fast. You don’t pull the knife, don’t throw a punch, but your hands are around his throat in a blink, and you shove him back hard enough that he slams against a shelf with a clang. A box of screws topples somewhere behind him.

“Try it again,” you say, low and even. “See what happens.”

You don’t remember drawing the knife.

All you remember is the way the air changed — thick, metallic, sharp with panic. One moment, Gallo’s guys were just shouting, posturing like men with too much testosterone and not enough brains. The next one of them rushed you. Pulled a gun. A warning shot, maybe. But it grazed your arm, and that was all it took to tip something inside you.

The rest is a blur. Screaming. A crash. A warm spray across your face that wasn’t your own.

You’re not trained for this.

You’re not supposed to be the guy standing in a warehouse full of broken bones and gasping, bloodied men, clutching a blade that’s slippery in your hand. You were a barista three years ago. A father. A husband, once.

But right now, you’re just a wreck. Shaking, breath jagged, body slick with sweat and blood — most of it not yours. The knife hits the floor with a metallic clatter. Your legs feel like paper.

The phone in your pocket buzzes once.

A location pin.

No words.

Your hands are still trembling as you stumble out into the alley, back pressed to the cool brick wall as your knees threaten to buckle. You press your palm to the wound on your arm, but you can’t even tell if it’s deep. All you can feel is the adrenaline, burning like acid through your veins.

The car pulls up exactly two minutes later.

Sleek. Black. Expensive in the quiet, menacing kind of way.

The passenger door opens, and Felix is already waiting inside.

You hesitate. Just for a second.

Then you climb in, dragging the bloodied duffel with you. You don’t speak. You can’t.

He says nothing at first. Just watches. His gaze skims your face, your hands, the splotches on your shirt. His nostrils flare, faintly. His jaw clenches.

Then his voice comes, low and velvety.

“You did well.”

You flinch.

Well?

Is this what “well” looks like?

You open your mouth to say something — anything — but it all dies on your tongue. You feel like you're floating outside yourself, like your body isn’t quite yours. Like you're going to pass out.

Felix notices. Of course he does.

He leans in, slow and deliberate. His hand moves to your jaw— firm, and tilts your face toward him.

“You’re shaking.”

No shit. You laugh — a broken, awful sound that doesn’t feel real.

Felix hums, then shifts in his seat. The partition behind you slides up without a sound, cloaking the two of you in soft shadows.

“I told you I wanted to see what you could handle,” he murmurs. “You didn’t disappoint.”

“I almost died,” you manage to whisper.

“Mm,” he says, thumb brushing along your cheek. “But you didn’t.”

You don’t realise your hands are clenched in your lap until he notices. He undoes your seatbelt. Leans down.

“I can help,” he says softly, fingers already trailing down your thigh. “Let me.”

You’re still bloodstained. You still feel sick. But your cock betrays you — twitching in your jeans under his touch like it doesn’t care that you’re half-feral from adrenaline and trauma.

He smiles faintly. Like he expected that.

“Poor thing,” Felix says, voice thick with amusement and something deeper. “All wound up. All that fear. All that pressure.”

His hand slides over the bulge in your pants, slow and possessive. Your breath catches.

“You’re shaking so much,” he murmurs. “You need to calm down. Just relax.”

You don’t. Can’t. But your hips twitch anyway.

Felix is patient. Cruel in his gentleness. His fingers undo your jeans with practised ease, and the second he wraps his hand around your cock— warm, firm, steady— you nearly choke on a gasp. The pleasure spikes sharply and fast, edged with guilt and something darker.

You shouldn’t want this. Not now. Not here. Not after—

“Don’t think,” he says quietly. “Just feel.”

Your head hits the seat behind you. Your hands tremble uselessly in your lap as he strokes you—not fast, not slow, just right. His thumb circles the head on every upward pull, milking soft, breathless moans out of you.

“You’ve been good,” he whispers, voice like velvet steel. “Brave. I take care of what’s mine.”

You don’t know when that happened — when you became his. But it’s too late now. His hand keeps working you through it, coaxing you toward a high you didn’t ask for but can’t stop chasing. Heat pools low in your belly. Your eyes squeeze shut. You’re going to—

“Come for me,” he breathes, leaning in. “That’s it. Let go.”

And you do.

It rips out of you like a sob. Messy. Shuddering. You curl in on yourself as your body wracks with release, nerves flayed raw.

Felix doesn’t flinch at the mess. He just wipes his hand, then guides your head down to rest against his shoulder. You’re still panting, still dazed, blood drying on your clothes — and he strokes your hair like you’re something precious.

Like you're his favourite broken thing.

⋆｡°✩  

You leave the bathroom light on.

Not because Nora’s scared of the dark anymore. She’s been sleeping through the night since she was three. It’s for you.

You’re the one who wakes up in cold sweats now. You’re the one who flinches at door hinges creaking and cars idling too long outside the window. You’re the one staring at the nursery monitor like something might crawl through it.

There’s no crying. Just the soft hum of static.

She’s curled up on her side, one arm flung above her head, mouth open in that completely unselfconscious way only kids manage. Her stuffed bear is trapped beneath her chest like a casualty, and you don’t dare move it. You don’t dare move anything.

You sit on the edge of your bed, clothes still crusted in spots with things you scrubbed off hours ago. You’re not sure how you’re still breathing. Or why you are.

Your hands shake. Not like before—this is quieter. Numb.

Your phone buzzes once on the nightstand. You don’t check it. You already know who it is.

You already know what he’ll say. Good work. I told you you could handle it. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or a warning.

The monitor hisses softly, then goes silent. You keep watching it anyway.

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[leechqnsgirl]

‧₊˚✩彡‧ all the times I waited, for you to want me naked

-- you and heeseung have been dating for a while now, but he's never made any advances towards you. after tempting him numerous times and getting nothing, you confront him, wondering if the reason is because he doesn't find you attractive. but it's really just the opposite.

18+ | heeseung x fem!reader | wc: 5k | fluff, smut, confrontation scene | masterlist

warnings: language, reader has some slightly insecure thoughts, hee is down badd, kissing, making out, fingering, pussy eating, tiny handjob, piv, cumming inside

****

you loved heeseung, truly.

however, you couldn't help but feel a bit...unwanted by him.

not in a drag-around way. but more like he didn't have a desire or a need to have your body.

the two of you made out, sure, but even when you would, he'd be quick to end it.

at first you thought maybe it was because you two were still early in your relationship. maybe he was just shy.

but then that beginning turned into five months and those five months quickly became eleven.

sure, he was a bit more touchy, a bit more open to you but he didn't ever seem like he craved you.

you groan over the phone with your friend, "I mean, am I the problem?" you got to a point where you had to talk to someone about it. because you weren't even just hurt anymore. you were confused too, more than ever.

"I doubt it." your friend stated. "y/n, have you even tried talking to him?" you bit your lip. "well...no?"

you could hear her sigh disappointingly. "then you might be the problem." she teased over the line, "again. I doubt it. if anything, he's so in love with you! I see it, okay. and in all honesty, I thought you two were already getting it on." you could practically visualize her leaning back into her chair as she says that.

you felt yourself get a bit flustered, closing your eyes as you took a breath in.

"I just don't know what to do now. like is this normal? your boyfriend wasn't like this right?"

she chuckled, "my boyfriend? he cant last a day without getting his dick wet." you groaned. "what is it gonna take for heeseung to be like that." you whined, lying down on your bed.

"look, I have an idea but I don't really know if it'll work."

--

It's been a week since the phone call with your friend. and her plan seemed absolutely ridiculous to you.

according to her, if you tempt heeseung enough, he'll eventually let go and have you.

did you believe that? not exactly.

there's already been a handful of situations between the two of you where any regular man would've fucked you right then and there. but heeseung? nope. it's like there's some sort of curse on you.

or at least that's how you like to put it.

you eventually gave in to trying your friend's idea.

your first attempt was during a movie night. heeseung had called you up saying how he found a movie you two should watch together.

usually you'd settle for one of his tees and some pajama pants. but this time, you wanted to switch out the shirt with a tight low cut tank top, and considering how the weather was changing, you could always say it was just too hot for a t-shirt.

oh, and you'd also decided to go braless.

it was around 8:30 when heeseung arrived at your place.

giving you a kiss on the cheek as he walked in, he asked if everything was ready for the movie.

when the two of you sat down together on the couch, you could tell he put a tiny distance between you and him. not on purpose surely...right?

you let out a quiet sigh, scooting over a bit to cuddle into his side. you had your head on his chest and a hand on his thigh.

it was probably ten minutes into the movie when you noticed he wasn't touching you at all.

either it's working right now or I just made him super uncomfortable... you thought to yourself.

about to call out his name, but you decided against it. instead grabbing the arm that he rested off the top of the couch behind you and placing it on you. leaving it so his hand was around your hip.

you could've sworn you heard his breathing pause.

you're taking this movie night as a success for your first attempt.

--

now for try two you wanted to go a bit more out of the box.

you and heeseung just came home from a dinner date. he took you out for a nice night drive then surprised you with a booked seat at a fancy diner.

he was sitting up against the headboard of your shared bed. you walked over to where he was, pulling your hair to the side. "hee, can you help me with my dress?" you asked, turning so your back was facing him. "sure, baby."

now, usually he'd do it for you and you'd go to change in the bathroom.

and maybe that was the problem. it was little habits of yours like this, that he could've take it as you were hiding yourself or you didn't feel ready around him.

that's not it, really. you were just never used to changing with someone else in the room. but tonight you realized, you don't mind if that someone else is him.

walking over to your drawer, you pull out a large shirt of his. your back still turned towards heeseung, because yes, you were still a bit nervous with this whole plan. you don't think you'd be able to do this facing him. not yet, at least.

you slip off your dress and pull the shirt over your head.

and again, you could've sworn you heard him make a small noise. something akin to a quiet gasp.

he had already changed into his comfortable clothes.

laying beside where he was sitting on the bed, you could visibly see him swallow down nothing. his throat felt dry. and he felt bugs in his legs, like he just had move. but he really didn't want to. he really really wanted to just be able to hold you tightly against him as you two fall asleep. but he's afraid something might interrupt the moment you two could be having.

"I'm tired, hee...are you gonna sleep soon?" he nods his head, "y-yeah..." he clears his throat, standing up.

"i'm gonna use the bathroom real fast."

furrowing your brows, you tilt your head. "okay...come back fast babe. I wanna sleep." you said innocently. knowing you meant it to be everything but.

he was there for ten minutes before you went over to the door. just as you were about to knock, you heard him mumble something along the lines of, "get it together..."

you had to cover your mouth from the giggle you wanted to let out.

did you always have an effect on him and never realized? or is it just because of tonight?

--

your third attempt was when you two went shopping.

you'd been complaining about how you needed new clothes to heeseung. so he agreed to take you out to the mall over the weekend.

only problem? you never told him what kind of clothes you needed to buy.

now again, it really was habits the two of you had built up that were to blame.

whenever you'd go shopping for your own undergarments, you never really invited heeseung into the store with you. but he never asked to come in either. so when you walk into the store, he'd say he'd go to another and see if he can get himself anything while you shop for your personal belongings.

but this time, when you two arrived in front of the store, you didn't let go of his hand that you were holding.

"heeseung, do you wanna come with me today?" you asked, unblinking as you looked up at him.

he brought a hand up to scratch behind his ear, a habit of his for when he was nervous or undecided.

"i-i don't know...I mean, do you need me to?" he sounded nervous. you suppose you're meant to take that as a good thing.

you hold his hand tighter. "all my friends say they do this with their boyfriends.." you said upsettingly, putting on a faux pout. you aren't fully faking your disappointment. you do want him to come inside, but if guilt tripping works. then hey, fake it till you make it...right?

you could see from the look in his eye that he was fighting with himself.

he sighed. "okay. fine. even though i've never met a guy who even goes into these stores with their girlfriends." he said under his breath, hand sweating in your hold.

the two of you walked in and the store was quite busy today. girls hoarding every corner and it seemed like all the changing booths were full.

making your way through the store to where you needed to be, you eyed a few couples in there together. nudging heeseung when you pointed at them.

"see baby, guys do tag along!" he gave you a strained smile, nodding slightly.

starting off at the perfume section, you went though many scents. spraying some on tester cards and some on your wrist or neck for him to smell.

soon enough you made your way over to the sleepwear and undergarments area. you grabbed a few, heeseung offered to hold them for you, while you told him that you wanted to make your way over to the fitting rooms.

heeseung handed you all the clothes you picked out with a red face. as you took them from him, you looked at him with a brow raised.

"um...hee?" he looked at you, croaking out a quiet, yeah?

"come in with me, I need your opinion on the stuff I picked." you could see his eyes visibly widen. he cleared his throat.

"y-you want me to join you?" he knew he probably looked like a tomato by now.

you nodded your head. "well I don't have another boyfriend, do i?" you teased, tugging him by his jacket sleeve into the fitting booth.

after locking the door to the room, you offered for him to take a seat on the stool inside.

you hung up all the pieces of clothes and sets you chose on the rack and began taking off your top.

you could practically feel him get tense before you saw it.

soon enough, you slid off your shoes and shorts that you were wearing. now leaving you in just your bra and panties.

you started with a dark red lingerie sleep dress that caught your eye earlier. it went to your mid thigh and had lace trimmings around the chest.

you turn around from facing the mirror to look at heeseung.

but he was already looking at you.

you waited a few seconds before calling his name, he was clearly not paying attention to your face. his eyes glued to your body.

"heeseung..? how is it?" now he looks into your eyes. his tongue shooting out to wet his lips.

"i-its um, you know, it's nice." he said, running a hand through his hair.

you roll your eyes. sighing before turning around to try on the next item.

you showed him a few more.

you could tell he was only getting more restless and maybe even more impatient by the minute.

it wasn't until you tried on the last set that you could tell he's really had enough.

it was a delicate three piece that consisted of a white bra, underwear and a sheer mesh cardigan that really didn't cover anything. not that it was meant to anyways.

by the time you turned to show him this set, he was facing the ground. his hands tried their best to cover his groin without attracting any attention to the fact that he was trying to hide his half hard cock. you, however, didn't catch this.

before you could ask your repetitive question of how does this one look? he suddenly stood up.

"does this store have a bathroom?" your eyes widened, because there was no way he just asked that.

"this is a lingerie store...why would they have a bathroom?" he sighed, reaching a hand into his pocket. "take my card, purchase whatever you want and I'll be back."

he left his card on the stool. and before you could even utter out the sound of a letter, he was out of the room.

left standing still in pure shock, you began undressing to put on your own clothes again.

did i do too much?

god, he probably thinks I'm a crazy person. you thought to yourself.

you slid his card into the back pocket of your pants, choosing only a few pieces from the many you picked out to buy, leaving the remaining ones in the room.

thankfully the line was short now, you quickly bought everything then made your way out the store.

you saw heeseung walking back towards the entrance of it. once he made it over to you, he took the shopping bag out of your hand and shoved the empty hand in his pocket.

fuck.

--

the whole car ride was quiet. tense.

and when you made it back to your apartment, he was saying something about how he wanted to take a shower.

before he could rush away, you call out for him.

you drop your purse on the ground, sighing loudly.

"you're impossible." he turns his body slightly to fully face you.

"what?" you shake your head. "you make no sense, heeseung." you pause before you continue, trying to collect the right words.

"I mean, eleven months heeseung. we've been together for eleven months." he brings a hand up to scratch his neck.

"what are you talking about?"

"you love me, right? you think i'm-i'm kind and funny and beautiful. right?" you felt your voice start to raise just the slightest.

"of course-" you dropped your hands to your sides dramatically.

"then why don't you want me? or even crave for me?" he paused when you said that. he could see your eyes gloss over a bit.

"everyone I know, heeseung, everyone has basically done it with their boyfriend already. and I'm not saying we have to do that to have a healthy relationship but I mean if you didn't wanna have sex then just tell me!" you take a moment to breathe.

"but I know you want to have sex. m-maybe not with me but I know you've had it before, with your exes. and I don't care about them right now. but, god, it's just killing me inside because," you had to calm down. you don't even know why you're getting so worked up. you've always felt this way, yeah, but, you usually just deal with it.

it seems like this time...you just can't.

"because it has me thinking I'm the problem." you see him open his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

"what is it? am I just not attractive in that way? or hot? or d-do you have someone else?" you whispered out that sentence because even you knew that wasn't true. it was just your own thoughts that were eating you now. consuming you whole and leaving you a broken and crazed mess in front of your boyfriend.

the whole time heeseung was standing still, he didn't know what to say. did you really feel this way this whole time?

he shook his head. "never." he stepped closer to you. "there's never going to be someone else." he sighed.

how do i even explain this to her? he thought.

he sighed, "it's really embarrassing..." he said quietly.

"what?" you sniffled, furrowing your brows.

he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm. "it's not you, baby, I promise. a-and I had no idea you felt like this." you gave him a blank stare, wanting to hear what he'll say next.

"I'm a coward, y/n. I...I feel so much for you, in so many different ways I just, I don't know how to show it sometimes. and I get nervous. I get scared I won't be able to impress you or be what you deserve." he shifted his gaze from your eyes to the floor.

"you are the prettiest girl ever. really. I mean, no one I've ever met or dated makes me feel this way."

"and I don't wanna seem desperate or horny to you. the last thing I'd want is to make you think all I want from you is your body." now he moved right in front of you, holding both your hands in his.

"i'm obsessed with you, baby. the way you walk, the way you talk and smell and just exist." he presses a kiss to your lips, muttering a small apology. one you knew that its meaning was meant to be louder than its volume.

he lets go of your hands as he goes in for a second kiss. his own hands are everywhere but nowhere at the same time.

he wants to touch you. to feel you. but he doesn't want to move too fast.

getting impatient, you grabbed his hands and placed them on your waist.

breaking away from the kiss, you whispered into his ear, "touch me, heeseung. please."

his knees buckled at that, he had to physically bite back a moan. he moved one hand to the back your head with the other still on your waist. he pushed your head further against his. your hands tangled into his hair and neck, pulling at the hairs on the back of his head whenever he'd bite your lips.

yes, the two of you have made out before and its gotten heated. but this time? it felt so much hotter knowing that there isn't some sort of barrier between you two anymore. knowing that soon enough, he'll have you on your back moaning out his name.

he pulled away from the kiss, ushering the two of you to the bedroom.

he gently pushed you onto the bed, going back in for another kiss.

he moaned, the realization of everything finally dawning on him when he had you under him. all hot and bothered.

"heeseung," you called out to him, "what's wrong?"

he hadn't even realized that he froze for a good few seconds, but when he came back to you, he started trailing kisses down your neck.

"mm, nothing. sorry, baby." he mumbled in between kisses.

when he reached your collarbone, he tugged on the piece of fabric that was your shirt.

"can I...?" you nodded your head, voice too weak to speak right now.

and so with that, he gently pulled your shirt over your head. softly gasping at the sight of your upper body nearly bare.

his hands traced your sides, your stomach, everywhere.

he brought his kisses lower now, to the hem of your pants. this time he didn't ask you, he started slowly sliding your pants down. giving you time for if you suddenly changed your mind.

you never did. and he was so thankful for that.

he felt crazy. insane even. seeing you in just about nothing, only some pity pieces of clothing.

you were so beautiful, he couldn't believe he's never had you like this earlier.

but in the middle of everything, he can't help but feel that anxious and unsettling feeling arise again.

its not your fault, never. it's his and his busy minds'. its thoughts that occur like, if he's good enough for you, can he please you, and whatnot.

"mm, hee..." you squirmed shyly under his gaze.

his eyes quickly flew over to your face, he chuckled quietly. "'m sorry, baby."

heeseung works on his own clothing now, hastily ripping them off.

now, left only in his boxers, he drags a hand over to your clothed pussy.

fuck, he couldnt believe this.

he was touching you right now. him. not anyone else.

his finger presses down on your cunt, making your legs twitch just the slightest.

he starts rubbing small circles over your clit, his other hand gripping the sheets beneath you two.

god, he really wanted to just strip you naked and fuck you stupid. but no. he had to have patience, he didn't want your first time to be a quick fuck. he wanted to have time to get to know your body.

what you love, what you hate, what makes you wet.

he needed to know it all.

he hears you whine out a wait, pushing his hand away from you. he was confused at first, until he saw your slide off your panties.

"y-y/n?" you bit your lip, closing back your thighs.

"hee, I need you to touch me. please." and how could he refuse? with your eyes staring at him all wide, your brows furrowed and your lips chewed up.

your lips. gosh, your lips. he had to kiss you.

crawling up a bit, his lips meet yours. he groans into the kiss when you bring a hand up to his hair.

with your tongues clashing and heavy breathing audible in the room, heeseung brings one hand down and pushes your thighs open a bit.

you lay back on the bed, him still above you.

"baby, I'm gonna start with my hands okay?" he assures, eyes scattering all over your face.

a bit shaky, you nodded your head.

the way he pressed his fingers against your bare warmth made your mind hazy.

you bit your lip, a muffled moan coming from you. and when heeseung started rubbing you, you threw both your hands over your face. the shyness and slight insecurity of the way that you might look got the better of you.

heeseung pulled away from you. "h-huh?" you lowered your hands when you heard a whine from him.

"baby, please can I see you? I need to, I wanna see you come undone for me. please?" he was shameless with the way he begged, voice never even wavering.

and you felt the heat rise up to your face, eyes wide as you processed his words in your head.

his hands went to grab at your wrists. "just...relax."

again you nodded your head.

and just like that he went back again, but this time, his movements were a bit more restless. less patient.

he spreads your legs wider, wanting to get a better view.

his empty hand went to your still bra clad chest. he huffed at the feeling of this fabric under his hands.

getting the hint, you sat up a bit, bringing two shaky hands to take it off.

and he whimpered at the sight. he shut his eyes for a few seconds, letting out an unsteady breath.

he immediately brought his mouth over to your chest, pressing open mouth kisses around your tits but never touching your nipples.

you gasped at a sudden intruding but pleasurable feeling.

he finally stuck two fingers in you, and placed his mouth on your right tit. sucking it, running his tongue all over it as he kept a nice pace on your cunt.

"fuck!" you arched your back, shutting your eyes.

he continued this, switching from left to right but never moving his hand from your pussy.

"heeseung! heeseung, baby-" you cut yourself off with a moan, "im gonna c-cum, please baby." you tangled a hand into his hair, pushing him further into your chest. if that was even possible.

trembling thighs shut themself around his hand as you knocked your head back onto the pillows, moaning loudly as your orgasm hit you.

he groaned against your chest, trapped still by you in every way.

finally, he lifted his head from your chest, moving his fingers out of your cunt.

he looked you right in the eyes as he brought them to his mouth. groaning at the taste of you.

everything he was doing, these were the things he dreamed of doing to you.

still dazed, he doesn't even realize your hands cupping his clothed cock. his body jerks at your touch, a gasp leaving him.

"hee, can you take it off?" you asked shyly, hand still groping him.

he let out a shaky breath, nodding his head as he quickly tugged them down. throwing them somewhere on the floor along with the rest of your clothes.

your eyes widened, you never realized he was this big. if anything, you never really thought about his dick size despite the many fantasies you'd have about him pounding into you, making you go dumb.

you spit into your hand, stroking his cock slowly. you had to get a feel for it, you needed to know how he looked and felt. you needed to.

he moans at the contact, his hands balling into fists. if he didn't know any better, he would have shoved himself down your throat already. but no.

he had to be patient.

it wasn't until you kitten licked his tip that he gently pulled you off him.

"no." he breathed out. "fuck- no, im sorry baby." he says a bit kinder this time.

"i-if im gonna cum, i need it to be in you. I don't wanna cum anywhere else. nowhere else besides that cute cunt. okay?" he pushed you by the shoulder back to laying down.

his hands were shaking. because of nerves, impatientness, excitement. he didn't know.

before he lined himself up, he leaned down to your face. pressing his lips against yours.

his cock brushed against your entrance. he moaned at the feeling.

"oh, y/n." his brows furrowed, he almost looked like he was in pain, in the hottest way ever. "oh, baby, you have no idea. do y'know the amount of times i've had to get myself away from you? because if i didn't, i think i would’ve fucked you one too many times." he chuckles airily.

his tip teases you. "i can't even count how many nights i'd stay up, tugging at my fucking dick to the thought of you." he eases himself in, slowly.

"i'd get fucking hard at anything you do. it's so embarrassing, baby."

hes halfway in, biting back a groan.

"fuck, and when we would make out? the way you'd moan and whine into my mouth had me nearly creaming my pants."

he bottoms out now, throwing his head as his grip on your hips becomes bruising. but in the best way possible.

everything he was telling you had your eyes shutting tight and rolling back.

you never knew any of this. you never would've expected it.

he starts thrusting now, hips strained as he tries his best to go at an even pace.

"and f-for you to think i don't find you hot? or attractive? fuck, that i dont wanna have sex with y-you?" he whines quietly at the end, his hips speeding a bit.

"that made me feel like shit. the last thing i want is for you to think i don't want you." his thrusts kept the same pace but roughened up. slamming into you every so often.

"heeseung." you whimper. "heeseung, i'm sorry, im sorry, i should’ve t-told you." your eyes were getting watery, everything was getting to you.

the pleasure, the pain, the emotion.

he presses a kiss to your jaw. "shh, no, baby. don't be, okay?"

his grabs your hips closer to his now, quieting down as hes focusing on fucking into you, plummeting his hips as you scratched at the back of his shoulders.

you felt yourself get close, pleasureable tears pricking at your eyes.

you squeezed them shut, throwing your head back.

"y/n-" he breathes in deeply, "look at me, baby. c-can you look at me? i wanna-, fuck, i need to have your eyes on me." he groans, bringing a hand to the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair as he moves it to face him. "I need to see you."

you moan at the feeling of his hands on you, your legs locking behind his back.

"c-cum." you softly whine out.

"what?" he's out of breath, sweat dripping from his temples. "cum. c-cum in me, hee, please. d-don't pull out."

fuck, you might actually kill him.

"you want me to cum in you?" he may have been talking to you, but you knew he was repeating the question to himself.

you nodded your head, bringing a hand to cup his left cheek. "mhm, baby, I love you. s-so much." your voice was shaky when you let out the words. and he felt weak from them alone.

your warm cunt, your beautiful sounds, your pretty face.

it was all you, you, you.

you were always in his mind. you never left it, to be honest.

"f-fuck! baby, I'm gonna cum." he moaned out, "cum with me, okay? please baby, I need to feel you cum with me..." heeseung kept rambling filthy nonsense into your ears, his whiny voice only bringing you closer.

and it wasn't until heeseung was whimpering out a pathetic repetitive mantra of I love you's that he finally came, with you following him.

he dropped his head onto your shoulder, broken sobs leaving his throat despite not a tear falling from his eyes.

it just felt that good to finally have you.

slowly, he pulled out of you. his sticky cum falling out of you a little bit. he groaned at the sight before flopping onto the bed beside you.

the two of you stayed quiet for a bit. catching your breath.

heeseung ran both his hands in his hair, moving it out of his face. you were stuck in your spot, too used up in the best way. too tired to move.

he turned his body sideways to face you.

"I was serious, y/n. I love you. and I'm so fucking sorry for making you feel that way. its never been like that. ever. I promise you, baby."

you smiled, reaching a hand out to rest on his face.

"it's okay. i'm just glad we were able to get through it."

heeseung nuzzled into your touch, breath coming out a bit shaky at your touch. he loved it, he loved the warmth that came with it. he loved it all.

heeseung stood up, grabbing his boxers off the floor as he walked out the room. saying how he was going to get you two some water and something to eat.

when he came back a few minutes later, he had more than just the food.

he had the shopping bag. the one that was full of your newly bought lingerie.

he tossed the bag on the bed by your feet.

"I'm gonna need to see these on you again so I can give you my real opinion."

you giggled, grabbing the glass of water he handed you.

"you sure you won't get all nervous again?"

****

extra notes: so like half way into this i realized someone posted a fic with a really similar plot, i promise im not copying or anything and i tried to contact the writer but her account is down :\

again, full respect to her and her work and i did NOT plagerize. hope u enjoyed the fic :) ♡

[mercvry-glow]

Stay with me

parings. michael robinavitch x reader

warnings. age gap (michael early 50s, reader early 30s), traumatic birth, hospital setting, nobody dies, michael is mess and constantly stressed, other pitt characters, reader gets described as pale in a medical sense no mentions of outright skin color or hair type, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. this ones a doosey to make up for not writing for our sad boy! I love this and I'm happy I got to fulfill yet another request from you guys! I love y'all so much, and remember that all feedback is appreciated and to please enjoy!

wc. 3800+

Maybe coming into work at thirty-nine weeks pregnant wasn’t the best idea.

But you were stubborn. Always had been. And despite everyone—especially Robby—telling you to stay home, you couldn’t bring yourself to sit around waiting for labor like a ticking time bomb. You hated the stillness. The wondering. The endless scrolling and anxious pacing.

So here you were, waddling through the automatic doors of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center like you weren’t a day past thirty weeks. Your badge still clipped to your belly, your sneakers swelling tighter by the hour, and your hair pulled into a bun that screamed "I tried... kind of."

“Seriously?” came Frank’s voice before you’d even made it to the nurses' station.

You didn’t even look up. “Good morning to you too.”

“You’re full term,” he said, falling into step beside you, black scrubs hugging his sturdy figure as per usual. “As in, literally any second now.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder, trying not to let the exhaustion show. “I’m fine. And I’m bored. Let me chart for a few hours. I’ll even sit down the whole time. Swear.”

“You know that’s a lie,” he shot back, snorting. “You’ll be helping lift gurneys and running labs by noon. Someone’s gonna find you chasing a trauma bed down the hallway.”

“Hey,” you said with a little huff, rubbing your back with one hand, “just because I’m growing a whole human doesn’t mean I forgot how to function.”

Frank just gave you a knowing look, which meant: we’ve all seen you trying to wedge yourself into the cafeteria chairs.

That’s when Robby appeared around the corner, clipboard in hand and eyes already narrowed. He didn’t even have to say anything—his expression screamed "Really?" Robby frowned, scanning you up and down. His hand hovered near your lower back, not quite touching but always close. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You tilted your head and gave him your most innocent look. “I’m on light duty. Promise.”

“I’d like to point out,” Langdon added, grinning as he peeled away toward the coffee cart, “that I tried.”

You plopped yourself into the nearest rolling chair with a dramatic sigh and swiveled toward Michael. “It’s either this or reorganizing the diaper drawer for the sixth time this week. I think the baby’s fine with me typing a few notes.”

Robby crouched down beside you, one knee on the floor like he did when checking patients, except this time his palm found your knee instead of a pulse point.

“You’re swollen. And your breathing is a little tight.” He raised an eyebrow. “How long were you on your feet this morning?”

“Like… twenty minutes.” You grinned. “That includes brushing my teeth and taking care of the dogs.”

He exhaled slowly, leaning his head against your leg. “You’re going to send me into cardiac arrest before this baby even gets here.”

You carded your fingers through his hair, soft and absentminded, brushing the strands back from his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re worried, old man.”

“I’m always worried,” he muttered. “Because you’re always doing something you shouldn’t.”

You didn’t argue. Mostly because he wasn’t wrong. You were already shifting, trying to pull up the electronic charts on the nurses’ station computer.

Michael gave your belly a light pat and stood, arms folding as he watched you with that quiet, hesitant fondness he reserved only for you. “Fine. Two hours. Feet up. You so much as sneeze weird, and I’m dragging you to OB myself.”

“Deal,” you chirped, already logging in.

“And don’t even think about stealing someone’s trauma case when we get slammed.”

“Define stealing,” you replied innocently, sipping from your water bottle.

He pointed a warning finger, but his smirk gave him away. “Two hours.”

“Love you too, Doctor Buzzkill.”

As he walked off, you caught the way his hand reached for the stethoscope around his neck, the subtle shake of his head as he glanced back at you one last time before disappearing toward the elevators.

And for a little while, everything felt normal. The steady rhythm of the hospital, the buzz of the morning shift changing hands, the rolling carts, the beeping monitors, and the casual banter of a team that had become a second home. You rubbed your belly gently, feeling a soft nudge from the baby in response.

Still here, still safe.

You leaned back in your chair and took a deep breath.

You had no idea how quickly everything was about to change.

The morning passed in a blur of keyboard clicks, routine charting, and the occasional pat on the shoulder from coworkers who either admired your stubbornness or questioned your sanity. Probably both.

Danabrought you a fruit cup and didn’t even bother hiding the fact that she was watching your ankles like a hawk. “You know,” she said while leaning against the edge of the station, “we’ve had patients come in for stubbed toes more dramatic than you being full-term and still here.”

You laughed softly, spooning pineapple into your mouth. “I just wanted one more shift. One more day of normal.”

“You’re due in three days,” she said, eyebrows raised. “You know what would be really normal? Not going into labor next to the trauma bay.”

You gave her a half-hearted glare, and she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving along.

By the time the clock read 10:47 a.m., you’d gone through two rounds of vitals checks, one baby name debate with the new ER nurse (“Mikey Jr.” was not happening), and an entire cup of crushed ice. You felt... okay. Tired, sure. Tight across the ribs, definitely. But okay.

The baby kicked again—this time a little stronger, enough to make you wince and shift in your chair. You rubbed at the spot, exhaling slowly as the muscles in your lower back pulled tight.

Normal. Probably.

You stood up to stretch, rolling your shoulders as your bladder reminded you it was still being squished by a watermelon-sized human. With one hand pressed to your back, you made your way toward the staff bathroom, waving off Frank’s dramatic offer to “escort the ticking time bomb.”

Inside, you braced your hands against the sink for a moment, catching your breath. That tightness across your middle was sticking around longer than you liked. Not a contraction exactly... but a pressure. Your reflection looked a little pale, a little drawn.

Probably just low blood sugar. Probably just tired.

You splashed cold water on your face, took a breath, and patted your belly like you were trying to reason with it.

“Let’s not do this here, kid,” you whispered. “Give me 'til at least lunch.”

The baby shifted again, slow and sluggish.

You frowned.

Back at the station, you tried to ignore the small twist of something off. Robby walked by on his way to check in with a patient and paused long enough to give your hand a squeeze. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want him to worry—not yet. Not unless there was a real reason.

But deep in your chest, just under the hum of fluorescent lights and the steady rhythm of the hospital, a quiet unease began to grow.

You went back to your chair, sat down slowly, and propped your feet up on an overturned supply box Dana had dragged over earlier.

“Getting royal treatment now,” you murmured with a soft smile, stretching your fingers across your belly again. The pressure was still there—low and dull, like a cramp that hadn’t quite made up its mind. But you chalked it up to gravity. End-of-pregnancy things.

Michael passed through again, this time glancing at your chart on the screen. “You okay?” he asked casually, but his voice held that little edge, the one he got when he was reading between the lines of your smile.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just tired. Baby’s being clingy.”

He crouched down beside you again, resting his hands on your knees and gazing up at you like you were something fragile and wildly important. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

You shrugged. “I think my blood sugar’s just dipping. I’ll eat something real at lunch.”

Robby opened his mouth like he wanted to press the issue, but then his pager buzzed, pulling him back to the chaos. “Page me if anything feels off, okay?”

You gave him a thumbs up. “Promise.”

He kissed the inside of your wrist—gentle, a little rushed—and then disappeared down the hall.

You watched him go, your heart tugging in that quiet, familiar way. This wasn’t supposed to be dramatic. You were just going to stay a few hours. Get your fill of normal. Go home.

You reached for your water, took a sip, and then—

The pressure in your lower abdomen suddenly turned sharp.

Your breath caught.

It wasn’t stabbing, not yet—but it was wrong. Deep and spreading and foreign.

You shifted in the chair again, trying to ease the feeling, but this time it moved through your back too. A tight, radiating grip like something clenching from the inside.

Your hand instinctively moved to your belly. Still round. Still there. But... heavy. Heavier than before.

You stood up too fast and had to grip the edge of the desk for balance. A strange wave of heat flushed through your chest and ears.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Okay. Not panicking.”

You turned toward the hall, planning to make your way down to OB—just to be safe—when a sudden gush of warmth rushed down your legs.

Your eyes dropped to the floor.

Blood. Not water… 

Not a trickle. Not a few reassuring spots.

A pool.

Everything stopped.

You opened your mouth, tried to call out for someone—Frank, Dana, Robby—but your throat closed up as your knees buckled.

A pair of arms caught you before the world tilted entirely sideways, voices shouting your name, feet pounding against tile.

And somewhere in the distance, your heart broke open in fear as someone screamed for a crash cart.

The world dulled around the edges.

Voices came in waves—too loud, then too soft. The fluorescents above you blurred into a single long smear of white as you blinked hard, trying to stay awake. You were lying flat now, someone barking orders just over your head, hands pressing against your belly. Something cold touched your arm. A tourniquet? IV? You didn’t know. 

You wanted to speak, but your tongue felt thick and heavy. The baby wasn’t moving. Or maybe you couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t tell anymore.

Where was Michael?

You turned your head slightly, reaching out blindly with a trembling hand. “R-Rob—”

And then everything went black.

On the other side of the Pitt the hallway was loud, as usual. One resident talking too fast, an alarm going off two bays over. Robby had just finished checking vitals on a pre-op trauma patient when the words cut through the noise like a blade.

“Code OB! Nurses’ station—she’s hemorrhaging!”

For half a second, it didn’t register. He stood frozen, pen in hand, until Dana’s voice came from behind—sharper now, more desperate as she ran past him.

“Robby—it’s her! It’s your girl, it’s—”

He dropped the pen. Took off running.

The world narrowed to tunnel vision, his shoes slamming the floor with every stride as he turned the corner.

And there you were.

Lying on the floor in a growing puddle of blood, too still, too quiet. Langdon was crouched beside you, white-knuckled and pale, while someone was trying to keep your airway open and shouting at a med tech for an O2 mask. Two OB nurses had already arrived from upstairs, trying to lift your limp form onto a gurney.

“Move—MOVE!” Robby’s voice cracked as he shoved between bodies, sinking to his knees beside you. His gloves were on before he could think.

“Talk to me,” he begged, brushing a blood-slicked hand over your cheek. “Baby, come on—hey, stay with me.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He saw the blood again. The amount of it. His heart seized.

“She was complaining of tightness earlier,” Dana said quickly. “Didn’t think it was labor. She didn’t say anything about bleeding.”

“Placental abruption,” one of the OB nurses muttered grimly, already calling down to surgery. “We need to move now.”

“No.” Robby gripped your hand as they lifted your body onto the bed. “You hold on. You don’t get to—don’t you dare leave me.”

Your lashes fluttered weakly. It was the smallest thing, but it was enough to crack him wide open.

“I love you,” he whispered fiercely, pressing his forehead to yours as they wheeled the gurney away. “God, I love you. Just hold on. Please.”

The elevator doors slammed open, and then they were gone—your body rolling down the hall, trailed by shouting voices and the squeak of rubber wheels.

Robby stood frozen in the blood you left behind.

And he prayed—for the first time in years—that he wouldn’t lose the two people who had already become his whole world.

The observation room was too bright.

Too sterile. Too loud and too quiet all at once.

Robby sat hunched forward on the gallery chair, elbows on his knees, hands laced together so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His scrubs were stained—your blood, dried now—and he hadn’t moved to change them. It felt wrong. Like washing it off would be admitting something final. Like you were already gone.

The OR doors had closed over an hour ago.

Every minute stretched. He counted the seconds between every nurse that walked in or out of the room. Every ding, every beep, every sound made his chest seize like a vise.

“Dr. Robinavitch?”

He shot to his feet so fast the chair rattledagainst the floor.

It was one of the OB residents—a younger guy, fresh-faced, kind eyes. He looked nervous standing at the doorway. 

“The baby,” Robby said before the kid could speak. “Is he—?”

The resident gave a small, quick nod. “He’s stable—strong APGAR, breathing on his own. He’s in the NICU right now, just for monitoring because of the blood loss and delivery trauma, but he’s holding on great.”

Robby felt something like a breath stutter through his chest. A crack in the suffocating weight.

“A boy,” he repeated, voice cracking on the word. He scrubbed a hand down his face, the ache behind his eyes blooming all at once. “And she?”

The resident hesitated.

Robby’s stomach dropped like a stone.

“They’re still working on her,” he said carefully. “There was extensive bleeding. She lost a lot of volume and needed multiple transfusions. The placenta had fully detached. She coded once on the table but they got her back quickly—Dr. Jensen’s still in with her. They're doing everything they can.”

That familiar numbness swept in—cold and full of static. He’d seen this happen. He knew what these situations could look like. How fast they turned.

But this wasn’t just any patient.

This was you.

The woman who’d kept him steady when he didn’t know how to be. Who fought him and loved him and refused to be anyone but exactly who she was. This was the woman who carried his child, who still hadn’t heard that he made it. That their son made it.

“Can I see him?” Robby asked, quietly now, trying not to let his voice shake. “The baby?”

“Yeah,” the resident said, nodding. “I’ll take you myself.”

Robby glanced down at the gallery one last time.

“Hold on,” he murmured under his breath. “Please… just hold on.”

And then he followed, toward the small flicker of hope that looked an awful lot like a tiny newborn baby in a bassinet.

The NICU was soft with dim lighting and quiet beeps—worlds away from the chaos upstairs. Here, everything moved slower. Gentle. Careful.

Michael had scrubbed in without thinking, numb to the motions as the nurse guided him toward the far incubator. She was saying something—about weight, oxygen levels, bloodwork—but it barely registered.

All he could see was him.

His son.

Tiny. Swaddled in a sea of pale blue, a knitted cap covering his head, wires curling like vines across his chest. His skin was flushed pink, his breathing steady and strong, even with the tubes nearby just in case.

Robby stopped short a foot from the incubator.

“Go ahead,” the nurse said softly, nodding. “He’s yours.”

He stepped forward, one hand trembling as he reached out and pressed his now clean fingertips into the hole in the side of the incubator. Then he looked down through the clear plastic, and something in him shattered clean through.

“You’re here,” Robby whispered.

Not to anyone else. Not even to the nurse.

Just to him.

“You’re really here.”

His voice cracked. A tear slipped hot down his cheek. He swiped at it quickly, but it didn’t stop the next. Or the one after that.

“I thought we lost you,” he whispered, pressing his other palm fully to the side of the incubator now. “I thought—I thought I was going to lose both of you.”

The baby stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, his little face scrunching as if to acknowledge him.

Robby laughed—just a quiet breath of it. Barely more than a sound.

“You’ve already got a lot of fight in you,” he murmured. “Just like your mom.”

That cracked him open again. He dropped his head forward, resting it gently against the warm plastic as tears spilled freely now, all the fear and helplessness and love pouring out with no one around to see. No one to judge.

“She’s not out of it yet,” he said, so quietly it barely made it past his lips. “I don’t know how she’s doing….”

He swallowed hard.

“But I need her to be. You need her to be. So you just… hang on in there, little man. And I’ll hang on too.”

He stayed there for a long time. Just breathing. Just watching his son sleep, chest rising and falling with a steadiness Robby needed like oxygen.

And then—

“Dr. Robinavitch?”

A voice behind him.

He turned.

A nurse he didn’t recognize stood in the doorway, eyes soft but urgent. “They’re bringing her out of surgery now. She’s stable.”

Without knowing how long you were out the first thing you felt was the weight in your chest. Not pain—though there was plenty of that, dull and heavy through your midsection—but weight. Like your body had been filled with cement and someone was slowly peeling it away.

The second thing was the beeping.

Steady. Familiar.

A monitor. You’d heard that rhythm a thousand times, but this one felt… personal.

Then came the light. Too bright. You winced.

“Hey—hey, easy…”

A voice. Soft. Hoarse.

You knew it.

Your lashes fluttered as you tried again, squinting against the fluorescent ceiling until a shadow leaned into your frame of view. Hair mussed. Beard teased. Scrubs wrinkled. Eyes bloodshot but still such as deep warm brown. .

Robby.

He was sitting beside your bed, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees like he hadn’t moved in hours. Days maybe. His hand was already in yours.

“You’re okay,” he said quickly, blinking down at you with a thousand emotions all crashing in at once—relief, love, panic, exhaustion. “Jesus, baby, you’re—God, you scared the hell out of me.”

You opened your mouth, but your throat was too dry. All that came out was a rasp.

Robby was already up, pouring water and helping you sip from a straw with gentle, practiced hands.

When you finally managed a whisper, it was just one word. “Baby?”

His lips trembled around a smile.

“He’s okay,” Robby said, nodding, voice cracking as he set the cup aside and cupped your face with one hand. “He’s perfect. He’s tiny and loud and beautiful. They moved him to the nursery this morning but stable. Breathing on his own. He’s strong. Like you.”

You exhaled slowly, your body sinking back into the mattress with a kind of weak, aching surrender. The tears slipped out before you could stop them.

“I thought I lost him,” you whispered.

Robby shook his head. “No. You didn’t. You brought him into this world. You fought like hell.”

You looked up at him then, really looked, and saw the toll it had taken on him—the shadows under his eyes, the hollow in his cheeks, the scruff he hadn’t bothered to shave. He looked like a man who’d been holding his breath for days.

“You stayed?” you asked.

He gave a watery laugh. “I never left.”

And then he leaned down and kissed your forehead. Slow. Long. Like a prayer.

“You scared me,” he whispered into your skin. “More than anything in my life. Don’t ever do that again.”

You reached for him, weak and shaking but needing him close. He didn’t hesitate. He was there in your arms a second later, wrapped around you like a shield, like a lifeline. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, you let yourself breathe.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed after that.

The pain meds kept you somewhere between floating and dreaming, and the monitors were a constant lullaby, but Robby never left. He was always there, holding your hand, brushing the hair from your face, whispering things you barely remembered.

But when the nurse finally came in, smiling softly and pushing a clear bassinet ahead of her, the world snapped back into focus.

“I thought you two might be ready,” she said gently.

You blinked hard, trying to sit up, but the ache in your abdomen stopped you short. Robby was already there, adjusting the bed, piling pillows behind you like he had done it a hundred times.

“Easy,” he murmured. “You’re still healing.”

But your eyes were locked on the tiny bundle being lifted into your arms.

And then—he was there.

Your son.

Wrapped in soft hospital blue, all fuzzy hair and wrinkled skin and the tiniest fingers you’d ever seen. He blinked up at you like the light was too much, his brow furrowed in confusion, and then he yawned—wide and slow—and settled against your chest like he already knew exactly where he belonged.

The breath hitched in your throat.

“Oh,” you whispered. “Oh, hi…”

Your voice broke on the word.

Robby was sitting on the edge of the bed now, his arm behind your back, his other hand smoothing over your son’s impossibly small shoulder.

“You made him,” he said softly, awestruck like he still couldn’t believe it. “We made him.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you gently ran your finger down your baby’s nose.

“He’s perfect,” you said. “He’s… ours.”

Robby kissed your temple and stayed there, his lips pressed against your skin as your son sighed in his sleep and curled closer.

You didn’t say anything for a long time.

There was just the three of you, tucked into a too-small hospital bed, held together by quiet breathing and trembling hands and the kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud to be felt in your bones.

This was certainly worth the pain. 

mercury-glow 2025

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Defy Her

Toxic Sevika x Reader

Summary: Going out without your girlfriend; she hates when she can’t protect you.

Warnings: Sex: ass slapping/gripping, degradation, choking, hair pulling, strap-on, and crying (r! receiving)

A/N: GUESS WHOS OVULATINGGGGG 😛😛😛 I wrote this in 4 hours cus I had a dream abt it. (Don’t ask)

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Fuck it.

You thought, grabbing your clothes and quickly slipping them on. Black mini skirt with a matching black crop top, your outfit was finished off with a red cropped jacket and a pair of black boots. Hair tied up into a half-up half-down style, you put on your jewelry. Long black necklaces with a few bracelets. Not to forget your dangling earrings, you made sure everything was perfect before grabbing your keys and heading out. You were finally free, able to walk out the door without your girlfriend dragging you back in.

Rule number one: you can’t go out unless Sevika agrees or goes with you.

Bullshit ass rules. They were all made to keep you latched onto your girlfriend, to keep you dependent on her. She didn’t like not being around you to keep everything in-check, make sure no one got too close, and even to prevent you from talking to anyone but her.

Your destination was The Last Drop, where Sevika, you hoped, wouldn’t be. She was probably doing some work for Silco, maybe even with Jinx trying to keep her out of trouble. Either way, you weren’t having her shit anymore. So, with a confident push on the doors, you enter the bar. You were immediately met with a crowd of people who were dancing, drinking, making out, and, most importantly, having fun.

Making your way to the bar to grab a few drinks, you looked around to find you being stared at. Up and down, either checking you out or judging you.

You decided to ignore them and sat on a stool, ordered yourself a sweet treat, and tried to forget about Sevika; for now. You ordered lemonade, getting drunk wasn’t on your list. The place was dimly lit with the telbum lights brightened it up with colourful lights. The speaker blasted upbeat music, causing everyone to dance, you silently admired the way the crowd was able to be carefree and loose. As excited you were to have some freedom, your main concern was if Sevika would find you and drag you home. Maybe yell at you or something.

Something would be fucking you senseless.

Though it wasn’t a bad idea, it sure scared you to see her angry. Ripping you open and making sure you were twitching after the first few rounds.

Sipping on your drink, you turn your attention to the man who was now shifting to sit beside you. He looked friendly enough, even though he was staring you down with those black eyes of his.

“Saw you come in, wanna dance?” His voice smooth even though it held a hint of nervousness. Hale leaned closer to you with his drunken breath. For a second you considered his invitation, dancing would be nice. But with a stranger?— who was probably just trying to get in your pants?. It felt like going behind Sevika’s back.

“I uhm.. I’m alright..” Forcing a smile, you turn your head to your drink. Your answer was simple and sweet, you hoped he’d take it and leave. At the corner of your eye, you saw him scoff. “C’mon, it’s just dancing?”

Was he fuckin’ stupid? “I said I’m good.” Was your response. You’d learned that from Sevika. Thankfully, you he fucked off. With a grumble under his breath, he walked away with heavy steps. You, yourself, grumble to yourself in annoyance before taking a few big sips and finishing your drink. Could a gal really not enjoy one night alone?

Maybe the night would be more enjoyable with Sevika. Having her glare away any men, letting you dance as you pleased? It was a nice thought. Even if she’d hover and fuss over a simple glance, you secretly wanted her to be there now.

May the universe heard your wish because as you were about to get up, you felt a tug around your waist before you were pulled against someone. “The hell are you doing here?” The familiar gruffed out words hit your ears and you realized it was your girlfriend. Her flesh arm around your waist, she tightened her grip which let you know she was upset. Maybe even pissed. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to come here alone? You deaf or something?” Sevika would groan out, her voice raising and tense. “I can handle myself, I don’t need you all the time.”

You guessed she didn’t like that answer because as her prosthetic arm hit the wooden counter with a fist she scoffed. “Don’t fuck around with me. God knows how many assholes are waiting to push a stick up your ass.” With that, she turned you around and gripped your wrist. “We’re goin’ home. End of discussion.” You clearly couldn’t say no to that, to her authoritative tone. She’d drag you home whether you liked it or not, pull you over her shoulder with her muscular arms and force you with her. Mumbling under your breath, you let her lead you away towards the exit.

An hour of freedom was all you got.

Reaching your shared apartment, Sevika locked the door behind you with a slam. Her expression irritated, she didn’t let go of your wrist. “I don’t even get to do anything. I barely go out by myself.” — “For a god damn reason.” She shot back, towering over you and making you have to look up. “I saw the way those ‘fuckers looked at you, as if you were some piece of meat.” Of course she noticed, that’s all she did. Look around and force everyone to look away. “I can’t help that? You were looking at me the same way when we started dating!” Raising your voice was a bad idea, the way Sevika’s grey eyes glared at you made you quickly fix yourself. “You’re mine. Got that? I do what the hell I want with you, no one else.” Tugging on your wrist she pulled you closer and gripped onto your hair with her mech hand. “Even lookin’ at you is a privilege.” Gasping at the tug on your hair, you let slip a shaky moan.

Her voice was low, dangerously quiet, as she leaned down to crash her lips against yours. Sucking on your bottom lip, Sevika bit down until you were sure they were bleed. Tilting your head back with her grip from your hair, her flesh arm came around to grip your ass and pull your body flush against her tense one.

If Sevika couldn’t keep everyone away from you, she would just have to keep you locked up and all to herself.

Soft whimpers left your lips as she kissed you deeply, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Tasting you, she found it satisfying to see you breathless and, already, vulnerable . Pulling back to see your red cheeks, she took hold of your face, squishing your cheeks together, and smirked with cockiness. “Fuckin’ whore.” Was all Sevika said before raising you and carrying you towards the bedroom. Her muscular arms then threw you— yes, threw you— onto the bed. Grunting, you give her furrowing brows. “Quit doing that, what if I hit my head?” Sevika only chuckled as she grabbed her strap. It was the largest one she had, one you could barely take halfway.

Approaching you, she tossed it beside you before ripping your clothes off. “Surprised you care more about bumpin’ your head on a wall than me ruining that hole of yours.” Voice unserious as she had you bare and on your back. “You couldn’t give a damn about the way I stretch-out your cunt. Want it so ruined I need a bigger one’a these.” Motioning to the strap, she crawled onto the bed and sitting infront of you and pulled you by your wrists. She turned you around to positionyour back to her front and your ass to her strap. Face burried your freshly done hair, she took a deep inhale. Both of you were on your knees with heavy breaths. You knew where this was headed.

With her flesh hand on your clit, she rubbed it to get the desired reaction. She succeeded when you couldn’t help but softly sigh at the teasing motion. One finger was enough to cover your bud, that’s just how big her hand was. And she took advantage of it every single time. With a bite on the back of your shoulder, she pushed her cock inside and kept it there for a good second. It was the first time she’d went all in. It left you to gasp and whimper. “Since I haven’t made myself direct with what I want, let me show you.” You braced yourself as you held your breath, heart pounding in your chest as she pinched your clit. A soft “fuck..” left your lips. “Don’t.” A hard pound hit your cunt. “Go.” Another hard pound hit with a grunt. “Out. The third pound went deeper than the first two. “Without.” You were still adjusting to the thickness when the blow hit, it caused a shaky moan to escape your lips.. “Permission.” With the last pound, she grasped onto your neck and squeezed enough to where it was hard to breathe. You could feel the pressure as your face went warm, you were red. “Got that, you dirty whore?”

Slamming into you, she went all the way in and made sure you were feeling all of it. Head tilted back with the help of Sevika’s grip, your back arched into her cock as she rubbed it against your walls. She was enjoying this, punishing you for being stubborn enough to go against her rules. “Look at you, already a slutty mess.” She was taking her anger out on you, “Tell me how much you want this cock. And don’t cum ‘til I fuckin’ tell you.” The sound of her strap making contact with your cunt was all that you could hear, all that could focus on. Phwap Phwap Phwap. You were fucking loving this.

“Sev, Baby..” You said shakily, “Don’t stop— fuckkkk, please.. it’s too good..” Your voice was strained from the grip around your neck, even moaning was difficult. “I.. I’m close.. it’s too much— it’s too fucking good.” Practically pleading your words out, you kept still for your girlfriend as she pushed into you. “Already? Can’t even last a few minutes.” Tugging at your hair and letting go of your neck, she pushed your face into the sheets and gave you the ‘back-shots’ you deserved. Head tilted to the side, you could barely handle her. “Sevika— baby, I.. I want you— holy—make me cum…” Words a breathy moan, you groan out at every sensation that rose from your drenched pussy. Sevika’s flesh hand came to play with your pulsing clit, pinching and rubbing it like some toy. “Yeah?.. you want me, baby? You want me like the little slut y’are?” Hips rolling deep blows into your cunt, you were holding on for life. Hands gripping the sheets in order to ground yourself as you bit onto your lip, causing them to swell up.

Sevika fucked you like a sex toy, never slowing her pace and hitting all the juicy spots that got you crying out. Tears ran down your mascara smeared cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. Your girlfriend didn’t seem to care over your sobbing, because she only grew rougher. Evident in the way she slapped your ass multiple times with her heavy hands and left behind red handprints. You whined everytime. “Hope you’ve got your shit together, ‘cause you were a dumbass for going to that shitty bar without me.” Legs twitching, your voice was beginning to strain from all the moaning you were doing. All the humms and whimpers were getting to you. “I’m close.. please— please I need you..” You’d breath out, shutting your eyes and letting every sensation soak in. “I’ll.. I’ll listen— please, baby I won’t.. won’t go out. Alright?” You were desperate for the orgasm pooling in your core, which needed to escape. Even your voice was cracking, from, both, moaning so much and and crying. “Let me cum, I.. I can’t hold it in..” Sevika, as usual, was memorizing ever moan, ever twitch, and every reaction that you gave. The slight tremble in your hands, the quiet whimpers you let out at every touch, and the heavy breathing. She loved it all.

“Cum for me, baby.” Was your girlfriend’s ‘yes’. And cum you did. Closing your legs you fell onto your chest and cried out at the intensity of the pressure your body was releasing. Hips writhing, legs shaking , and body heating up, your face was burried into cool sheets as you whimpered from the aftermath. “I just fucked the prettiest slut in Zaun.” Sevika proudly gruffed out, slapping your ass as she lowered herself. Knees on either side of the back of your thigh she brushed your soft hair aside before pressing hot kisses on your back, her strap rubbing against your back as she did so. Coming back from your orgasm, you collect your breath. “So.. you know other.. pretty sluts?” You murmured, eyes fluttering with the softness of her lips. Sevika only chuckled with amusement. “No, I don’t. Even if I did, you’d be the only slut I’d wanna see like this.” Her words a heartfelt scoff as she rubbed soothing circles on your back with her big palms.

“I’m still mad at you.” Sevika brought up, lips grazing the back of your neck before she bit down and claimed you. “I know..”— “Don’t do that shit again. Next time I won’t fuck you like this.” You knew what that meant.

Before, when the two of you started dating, she’d often ignore you, make you feel like shit, everytime you disobeyed her. But, luckily, communication helped and she stopped. But, would she really do it again? Start ignoring you?

“Don’t..” You whispered out, opening your heavy eyes as Sevika bit around your body. Shoulder, neck, arms, she wanted to mark you everywhere. You could only hold your breath when she did so, giving her the chance to do whatever she needed. “I don’t want you to ignore me..” And maybe your words sounded too.. sombre because, afterwards, Sevika pulled back and cleared your face from any strands of your disheveled hair and met your eyes. Her gaze stared into yours as she ran her hand over your flushed cheek and wiped off your smeared mascara. “You already told me not to.” Tone softened, she shifted to kiss your reddened lips. “I listen, unlike your stubborn ass.” You scoff at her response, “I do listen! You just make it hard to.”

With your sassy response, she laid down beside you and took off her strap. Throwing it somewhere onto the floor bedroom her mech arm came to wrap around your body. With another press on your lips, that you reciprocated with, she smirked out a soft…

“I’m pretty confident whatever I say is right.”— “Yeah, sure.” You shot back, grinning at her silent forgiveness.

[peachesofteal]

The wallflower.

Johnny clocks it immediately, your shoulders practically pinned against the pale-yellow wall, pint glass slick with condensation cradled between your fingers. Your eyes dart around and then away, finding something to study in the carpet, or the stairs, on the coffee table.

You’re not comfortable here, that much is clear.

He elbows Simon. “Poor girl looks nervous.” Simon gives you a furtive glance over the rim of his glasses, and nods.

“Probably only knows one person. Or got dragged here.” It’s Kyle’s wife’s birthday party. She has a lot of friends it seems, well liked in all facets of her life, work and otherwise. He clucks his tongue. “Sweet thing.” Someone bumps into you, and then pivots, reaching out to grab your arm in apology. You don’t tell him off or pull away. You just glance at his hand, meek smile stretching your lips sour. It turns Johnny’s stomach.

“She needs rescuing.”

“Johnny.” There’s a warning in Simon’s tone, a reproachful sentiment that he knows well. No strays. No projects. No more shelter pets.

“Ach c’mon. Look at her.” That one muscle in Simon’s cheek feathers, the one that says everything without Simon saying anything at all. Broken resolve.

He sighs. Johnny grins.

“Ye alright?” The man who’s taken up a residence at your shoulder is now speaking to you. Worse, he’s asking you if you’re alright.  

“I… I’m good. Yeah. Fine.” You grip your glass tighter, ignoring the flip of your stomach. You snuck at glance at him when he first came over, and that was enough. He’s very handsome.

And you’re, well-

You’re… you.

“Someone ditch ye?” Oh god.

“Uh, no. My friend is over there.” You point to Anna’s back. She’s in the kitchen, laughing so loud you can hear her from across the living room.

“Ah. She did ditch ye.”

“No!” You glare at him, “No.”

“But she didnae offer to introduce you to anyone?” You wince, and his eyes flicker with sympathy. “Ah, she did.”

“I’m not good with… people.” The understatement of the year. You don’t do people. People are too unpredictable, too much of an unknown. A pattern of behavior will only take you so far, and it’s hard to forecast their actions, reactions, words, emotions… everything.

You prefer safer bets. Predictable things. Equations, mostly.

“Ye’re not good w’people, but ye’re at a party.”

“Yes, it’s quite a feat.” You snap your mouth shut, expecting him to give you a weird look, but he laughs.

“If ye’re uncomfortable, why stay?”

“Because, social interactions are good for me. And I promised myself a slice of cheese pizza if I made it an hour.” He should laugh. Most would. Most would think it’s fucking hilarious, how you’re bribing yourself, dangling a carrot in front of your face.

But this guy doesn’t. He doesn’t laugh. He cocks his head, and frowns. “So… ye’re torturing yourself so ye can earn a slice of pizza.” A nervous giggle bubbles up and out your throat.

“It sounds bad when you put it that way but-“

“It is bad.” A deep voice sounds from over your shoulder, and you jump.

“This is Simon.” Your new… friend, Johnny, motions to the hulking man at your side, and you manage a nod, spitting out your name. “He’s no’ scary, just looks it.” Johnny reaches for his hand, and the equation clicks to together with ease.

Oh.

“You here with a friend?”

“Uh. Yep.” You point to Anna, again, and they exchange a look.

“She ditch ya?” Same question, different accent, and you’re about to give the same answer, when Johnny intercedes.

“She’s here so she can have a slice of pizza.” Yeah. It sounds bad.

“Wot?”

“I… It’s good for me to be around people so I said if I could do it for an hour, I could have pizza.” They’re both wearing expressions you can’t translate, two faces you don’t understand, and it twists you up.

“Do you usually ransom yourself pizza?”

“N-no.”

“Is it… an eating thing?”

“Oh, no. It’s like… I’d rather be at home, but everyone says socializing is… important. So, for doing something I hate, I get pizza.” Simon sighs.

“Trying to fit a square into a circle.” The comment is puzzling, but as you’re trying to put it together, Johnny links his pinky with yours and tugs you closer. The room is quiet, the music, the laughing, the chatter, all of it goes silent. There are dozens and dozens of people in here, but right now, it’s just you and these two. Staring at one another. There��s a web thin string spinning from him, to you, to Simon, and it’s wrapping you up, cocooning you, holding you tight.

“This okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye wannae go get that slice with us?” Do it. Just do it. Do something. You take a deep breath.

“Sure.”  

They look comical, shoved into the pleather red booth across the table from you, Simon far too wide to comfortably accommodate Johnny, but they don’t seem to mind. “So, cheese then?” You nod, picking at the faded corner of a menu. This was a bad idea, this was stupid. What were you thinking? Why-

“Three slices of cheese please.” You hadn’t even noticed the server, and you panic when she starts to turn away.

“And a coke!” You blurt, immediately embarrassed. She stares at you for a second before nodding, forcing a smile, and walking off. Fuck. You press your palm down on the table, trying to focus on the texture, the feel of it.

“Hey,” Simon says softly, “you didn’t do anything wrong.” You bristle.

“I know that.” Of course you know… don’t you?

Clearly not.

They don’t try to force you into conversation, but they do talk to you. They don’t ask you pointed questions or try to dig into you, instead choosing to tell you about themselves, their dog, their jobs. They keep you involved without dragging you in unwillingly.

It’s nice.

You’re halfway through your slice when you realize they’re watching you.

 “What? Is there something on my face?” You frantically wipe at your chin, your cheeks. Simon’s mouth quirks.

“Nothing on your face, sweet girl.” Your brain scrambles. Words fail. You don’t think anyone has ever called you something like that before.

“Oh. Okay. Well. Good.” Stupid.

“Go on and finish up.” He instructs, pointing at the grease laden slice, and you bring it to your mouth obediently. “Want to come for a walk with us after this? Our favorite park is around the corner, and the moon is really bright tonight.” A walk. With them. A walk? What does that mean? Just like, a walk?

Do it. Just do it. Do something. Be brave.

You roll your shoulders, and take a bite of your pizza, chewing slowly and swallowing.

And then you nod.

“Yes.”

[starmaidengarden]

Hello !!

May i request a fic with Jade, Leona, and Floyd where the reader is scared of them and often hides behind someone else when meeting them? Totally not bc i was scared of them back then lmao

Thank you, have a nice day!

—Jade : Leona : Floyd x gn!reader. no cw/tw. dividers: uzmacchiato.

note: sorry this took so long!! but I hope you like it!!

Jade Leech ༉⋆｡˚

At first, Jade finds your fear of him amusing in that quiet, unnerving way he does everything. You hide behind Ace or Deuce every time he appears, and he never misses the chance to smile just a little too pleasantly and say, “Oh? Hiding again? How cruel—I was simply going to say hello.”

He doesn’t get offended. In fact, he’s curious—what was it that made you fear him so much? His gaze? The rumors? His eel nature? He never directly asks, but you get the sense that he already knows.

He starts appearing more often in places you frequent, acting completely harmless, but always with an aura of something off—like he’s trying to prove you right and wrong at the same time.

Over time, he begins to soften his demeanor—his smile becomes a little warmer, his words a bit less cryptic. He’ll still tease, but in smaller, lighter doses. Eventually, if you begin to peek out from behind your “shield” when he’s around, he’ll notice immediately. One day, when you don’t hide fast enough, he’ll gently lean down and whisper with a soft smirk, “I must be doing something right.”

If you start talking to him on your own, expect him to treat it like a delicate animal approaching for the first time. “You’re growing used to my presence. I’m honored.”

Leona Kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

Leona’s used to people fearing him, but it irritates him when it’s you. He doesn’t understand why you flinch when he walks in or physically hides behind someone else.

At first, he glares and says things like, “Tch. What, I look like I’m gonna bite?” He’s gruff and dismissive, not realizing that his aggression is part of why you’re scared.

Ruggie ends up being your main shield, standing between you and Leona. He always mutters about it—“Babysitting now, Ruggie?”

Eventually, Leona grows restless. Your fear gnaws at his pride. He doesn’t want to be liked, necessarily, but being feared by someone like you—a harmless little mouse who flinches at his voice—annoys him more than he wants to admit.

So he changes tactics. Instead of barking or intimidating, he tries ignoring you completely, hoping you’ll calm down if he acts indifferent. It works better than he expects. You stop hiding as fast. You relax a little when he’s around.

Eventually, one day he catches you not hiding behind anyone. He makes eye contact, raises an eyebrow, and says dryly, “Look at that. Thought you’d pass out if I looked at you too long. You’re getting bolder.”

Floyd Leech ༉⋆｡˚

You hiding from Floyd is like putting gasoline on fire. He finds your reactions hilarious and entertaining from day one.

“Shrimpyyyyy~ why are you hiding again? That’s so boring! C’mon, come out! I wanna squeeze you!” Cue you burying yourself behind anyone nearby.

Floyd’s unpredictable behavior makes it worse. Sometimes he’s giggling. Sometimes he’s staring blankly with wide eyes. Sometimes he drops his voice and gets way too close to your ear just to make you yelp and run.

But beneath the chaos, Floyd’s not trying to be cruel. He’s trying to get a reaction—he thinks your fear is exciting, and in a weird way, it makes you memorable to him.

The more you hide, the more he’s like a cat stalking a laser pointer. But over time, if he sees you genuinely trembling or distressed, the fun drops from his face. “...Not fun when you’re actually scared.”

He starts adjusting. He’ll approach more casually, sometimes even dragging Jade along so you feel “safer” by comparison. He'll offer little things in an oddly sweet way—like a trinket he found or food you like. “For Shrimpy. Don’t scream.”

If you ever thank him, grins wide, and says, “Awww, you’re warming up to me! This is so much better~”

Floyd doesn’t really know how to tone himself down properly, but when you begin to open up just a little, he becomes more affectionate and playful rather than scary. He’ll guard you from others who freak you out—even if it’s something minor. “Only I get to scare Shrimpy.”

[literaturemeetsreality]

Rafayel turning to mush while you plant kiss after kiss on his face. You’re straddling his lap while he leans back against the couch. The contents of your makeup bag are spilled out next to you. A smaller pile dedicated just to the task at hand.

Testing lipsticks, you said. Have to find our perfect shade.

Our. He loves that you said that, wanting to include him in something mundane as swatching your makeup, wanting to make sure the color looks good both on your lips and the marks you’ll leave on his skin, showing everyone that he belongs to you as much as you do him. A variety of colors paint his face, neck, and chest with varying degrees of intensity since you were testing the fade and longevity as well. Rafayel loved how thorough you were being.

“Hmm?” He looked up at you in adoration, responding to you with a hum at your soft call of his name.

He tried to return your kisses with his own but you’d pull away and giggle at his pout. You need to hold still, my love. And, well, how could he not absolutely melt at that. He’s boneless, completely content with just softly running his hands up and down your sides, switching to playing with the hem of your shirt or squeezing your waist every so often.

“What about this one?” You asked again, lifting his face up to inspect your work. His eyes were unfocused, lost in the feeling of your lips on his skin, but they were able to zone in on your mouth anyway. The slightly faded color on your lips no doubt matching the marks you’d just left under his chin.

“You’re beautiful.” His thumb came up to rub the slight smudge on your bottom lip, the color transferring to his skin. “I like this one.”

“That’s what you said about all of them.” Heat pooled in your stomach while you watched him lick the makeup from his thumb. His eyes were still glazed over, and you couldn’t tell if he wanted to elicit that reaction from you on purpose.

“Can’t help it, you’re a vision. Colors were made to complement you.” He dragged you higher up his lap and tried to pull you down to meet his mouth, whining again when you pulled away.

“Please,” Rafayel begged, his hands resuming their position on your sides, this time sliding under your shirt. It was the combination of his cool hands and the heat in his eyes that made you shiver.

You leaned over and grabbed your phone. You took a few pictures of your canvas before flipping the screen to show him.

“You look so pretty.” His breath hitched. “If we’re talking art, then I can’t decide what color looks best. You make them all look good.”

You giggled. “I might have to start all over and try them all again.”

He groaned and dropped his head to rest on the back of the couch. You ran your fingers through his hair and over his shoulders, careful not to smudge any of the marks littered across his skin. “Fine, fiiine,” he said. “We’ll just have to wear them all out. We obviously will look amazing, no matter the shade. As long as we match, there will be no doubts.”

You grin while he threads his fingers through your hair. “But I am going to explode if I don’t kiss you right now.”

He pulled you in- no resistance this time- and dragged his mouth across yours. “It’s your turn now.” You hummed as he deepened the kiss, barely noticing him pluck your phone from your hand, more distracted by the way he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m using this as reference. You’re going to get every kiss mark you placed on me tenfold.”

And as a true artist, he filled his canvas.

This was def done before but I can’t remember which characters. If someone has a whole fic, please link it bc I have a NEED for this trope

[astars-things]

Private argument turned public

based on the comment Lando wrote on the Mclaren Instagram page 

Y/n Hughes x Lando Norris

"Lando seriously," You said trying to film a challenge video between him and Oscar, but Lando was refusing to cooperate, you both had a strict rule that when you both are at work you guys are just colleagues, especially when it came to filming content for the team

"It’s literally just a ‘Who Knows Me Better’ challenge between you and Oscar. All you have to do is sit down, smile, and pretend you like each other for ten minutes." you explained, you were stressed, trying to film this, get pictures done and everything else and Lando wasn't making it any easier for you

Oscar sat on the orange McLaren beanbag, already mic’d up and ready, casually scrolling through his phone. He looked up, raising his eyebrows as Lando continued pacing behind the cameras, hands on his hips, lips pressed into a frown.

“I’m just not in the mood,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “This whole thing is stupid.” You stood there trying not to snap, this was your job at the end of the day, you weren't his girlfriend right now you were a part of the social media team. You both knew to keep relationship drama outside of work, "give us a minute" You said to the team and Oscar as you grabbed Lando's hand and walked over to a small area

"You going to tell me what the fuck is going on?" you questioned looking into Lando's eyes, "I just don’t feel like being fake today. This stuff is dumb, and you’re being bossy about it." Lando whispered his tone full of attitude, you stood there trying to figure out what to do, at the end of the day this was your job, "Stop being a fucking toddler do this video and we will talk later" You whispered your tone full of anger, you walked away and went back to where the team and Oscar was

Lando walked back a minute after you grabbing his mic with a dramatic sigh. Once he sat down on the other beanbag, you gave them their cards, which had questions for the other person, the environment was tense, Lando barely smiled and Oscar was trying to keep the banter going, once the video was done you took the sd card out of the camera and gave it to the editors while you work on the promotion post of Instagram 

@.McLaren who knows who better is it @.Landonorris or @.oscarpiastri 

To find out who won on our YouTube 

View comments 

@.Landonorris  Next time maybe film with someone who actually likes being on camera 😅 

 →@.user2 Someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight 

→@.user3 Maybe you should keep this private 

you felt your work phone buzz, so you checked the notifications and when you saw Lando's comment you saw red, now he decided to embarrass you on social media which was a new low for him. You just decided to ignore him and just let him throw a temper tantrum, when you felt your personal phone buzz you were worried but seeing your brothers had messaged you made you anxious 

Jack Jack you and Lando okay? saw his Instagram comment

Lukey🐀  Did you and Lando break up?!! 

Huggy bear🧸 give me a call when you can 

you didn't know how to react, Lando had dragged an argument publicly for fans, your family, friends and many others to see. You put on a brave face and picked up your bag and camera and went to take photos. You headed out to the paddock, pretending your hands weren’t shaking and your eyes weren’t burning with unshed tears. You snapped photos of cars rolling out, of Oscar chatting with mechanics, of the orange blur that was your job and your world. You didn’t trust yourself to go near Lando’s side of the garage.

by the time you got to the hotel room the environment felt toxic, you felt like you couldn't breathe "So that’s it?" Lando snapped. "You're just gonna act like I’m the villain in all this?"

You froze. "You posted that comment, Lando. I have my brothers messaging me if you and I have broken up, you took a private argument and made it public for everyone to see" You snapped. The fight escalated fast. Words flew faster than thoughts. Every buried frustration, every jab you hadn’t said earlier, came tumbling out in raised voices and sharp edges.

"Do you even understand how hard it is for me to be taken seriously when I’m dating a driver? Do you know how many people think I only have this job because of you?!" You shouted your voice cracking trying not to cry, trying to seem weak Lando went quiet. His jaw clenched, eyes cold. "Maybe we’re just better when we’re not working together."

That one stung.

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, your breath short and uneven. The walls of the hotel room felt like they were closing in. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe past the anxiety gripping your ribs like a vice. “I can’t do this right now,” you whispered, trembling.

Lando was silent for once, watching as you backed away from him, blinking hard to keep from breaking down completely. You grabbed your phone out of your pocket finding the contact you needed, you pressed your phone to your ear and slowly walked to the bathroom "Who are you calling?" he asked quietly. You ignored him, once you were in the bathroom you locked the door slid down the cooling tiles and just sat there 

"Hey, Zak... I have a family emergency I need to leave tonight."

He didn’t ask questions just told you to take whatever time you needed.

Fifteen minutes later, you had your suitcase packed and a one-way ticket booked to New Jersey. You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t trust yourself to. 

You Knocked on Jack's door, and as soon as he opened it you were in his arms crying. Jack didn’t ask questions. He just held you tighter. 

please reblog and like 🫶

Part two -> here

[nightbornangel]

road trips with joel !! ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

you always pissed him off cause you had your feet up on the dash at all times, your shoes scuffing the old leather of his truck. he had old country on the radio, windows rolled down and the sun kissing your skin. you always looked beautiful in joel’s eyes but something about you seeming so relaxed on the little road trips you took every summer made you extra beautiful to him. johnny cash idly played as his big hands gripped the wheel, driving down endless empty highways. you got bored sometimes so you played silly little games with joel, his hand resting gently on your knee. “y’know i love spending summer with you, doll.” he always said, grinning from ear to ear. he loved you so much it made him sick — the time off work was always worth it.

“joellll i spyyy some sheep!” you giggled, pointing out of the window at a flock of sheep grazing in a field. “aw they’re so cute, i’d love a little baby lamb.” you hummed, tossing your hair over your shoulder and looking over at joel with puppy eyes. “darlin’ we can’t have a baby sheep in the house.” he chuckled, patting your thigh affectionately. “but why not?” you pouted playfully. he chuckled again to himself, shaking his head and grabbing a cold pepsi from the cooler in the backseat.

the nights were spent in shitty motels, giggling as you were tangled in those scratchy floral sheets. neither of you cared, you were just happy to be together. a cigarette hung from joels lips as you both lay in bed, his hand gripping the soft flesh of your hip. “god this place really is awful ain’t it darlin’?” he chuckled, taking a long drag before stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the side table. “yeah but it’s okay joel, im with this hunk in bed.” you giggled, nosing his cheek lovingly. he loved you so fucking much. that night ended in joel’s head between your thighs, feasting on your sweet juices — he loved spoiling his girl.

sticky popsicles from the seedy gas stations you visited, the smell of gasoline and cigarette ash is all you two knew on the 3 weeks of your road trip, sometimes you spent nights cooped up in the back of the truck when you were too tired to find a motel — tucked beneath a gingham blanket, you both watched the stars through the sunroof of the car, stealing kisses and breaths mingling. everything was so intimate with joel, you didn’t think you could ever love someone as much as you loved him. one particular night you were snuggled up in the backseats, seats all the way down as you cuddled up trying to get comfortable on the worn leather of joel’s old truck. “joelll you’re tickling me.” you grumped, commenting on his beard tickling the back of your neck. joel chuckled, kissing the crown of your head. “sorry baby, just can’t resist kissin’ ya.” you blushed at his words, even after all of your time together he managed to make you blush.

again, that night ended with you on top of him — hips bouncing up and down greedily on his length whilst you took what you needed from him. hips moving in circles as you buried your head into his neck, whining a pretty. “joel..!” as you came — he followed not long after, shooting his warm load inside of you. you both basked in the afterglow, truck windows all foggy from the intensity of it all. you looked up at him, all sweaty and tired as you lay your head on his chest. “joelie do you think we finally have a baby?”

the pics r purely for the vibes !! nothing to do with the storyline or readers appearance. i saw the pics of sabrina and was soo inspired to write something about road tripping with joel hehe. 🫣

[bruisedboys]

thinking of jacob giving u the best hugs after a long week. maybe your social battery has died and people keep asking u to help them so he scares them off (temporarily)

drew my angel thank you for the request!! love u

jacob black x fem!imprint!reader (reader is shorter than jacob)

Jacob Black has a one track mind when it comes to you. You’re all he ever thinks about, all he cares about, the only thing that really matters to him. He worries about you when you’re not together and clings to you when you are together. He’s totally obsessed, and he likes to think that if it weren’t for the whole imprint thing, he’d still be equally obsessed with you. Who wouldn’t? You’re kind, and smart, and beautiful. You don’t care that he’s a monster and you love his pack family even when they’re a pain in the neck.

Like now, when they’ve dragged him out for patrol and left you at Sam’s, when all Jacob wanted to do tonight was take you home and kiss you stupid. You’ve let him go without a complaint, ‘cos you’re perfect.

Jacob, in his wolf form with the rest of the pack spread out within the woods around him, realises too late that he’s been musing over you in his mind. The others are laughing at him.

Really, Jacob? Paul’s voice says in his head. We haven’t been gone ten minutes.

Shut up, Jacob thinks back, but he stops picturing your face in his mind and tries to focus on the task at hand instead.

A few uneventful hours later, the pack finally heads back to Sam’s. Jacob, the fastest not only because he’s naturally quick, but because he’s desperate to see you, gets there first. Back in his human body he feels much more comfortable, and at least now no one can read his thoughts. He can think about you all he likes without getting an earful for it.

He’s unsurprised when he finds you in the kitchen with Emily.

“Hey,” he nods to Emily, who’s getting something out of the oven, and crosses to where you’re standing over the sink, up to your elbows in suds.

“Hi,” he says fondly, moving up behind you. He pushes an arm across your lower back and dips his head to lay a kiss in your hair. “Missed you.”

You turn to look up at him and smile, and you’re so, so pretty, but your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Hello,” you say softly. Your voice is heavy and slow, like someone’s poured honey down your throat. “Missed you, too. Where’s the others?”

“I beat ‘em,” Jacob tells you proudly, at the same time as voices and laughter start trailing in from the living room. Jacob winces. “Just.”

You laugh softly. “Will you dry these for me?” You ask, nodding towards the clean dishes on the bench. “Before it gets too rowdy in here?”

Jacob helps you with the dishes. You were right when you guessed it would get rowdy — the pack are starving and eat the meal you and Emily have made like, well, wolves. Paul’s in a mood tonight, a good one but a loud one, and as a result everyone jokes and laughs and talks over one another. You’re decidedly quiet, and when you’re done eating Jacob pulls you into the hallway, out of the way of all the noise.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks, hands on your upper arms.

You heave a sigh. “I’m really tired,” you admit. You’ve long since given up on trying to hide how you’re feeling from Jacob, because he’s so persistent and stubborn that he always ends up weasling it out of you, anyway. “Not like, sleepy. Just, my battery is really low.“

Jacob frowns and rubs his thumb over the hill of your shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey,” he says. It somehow feels like his fault.

You give him a look like you know what he’s thinking. “S’okay,” you say. “Just had a long week, you know?”

Jacob hums. “Yeah, I know. You want a hug?”

You nod like you were waiting for him to ask, and Jacob makes quick work of wrapping you up in his arms, pulling you into his chest like he’s done a million times before. You push your arms around his waist and cling to him, while he rubs your back with a warm hand. He’s tall enough that he can rest his chin atop your head so he does, and lets you push your face into his neck, your mouth warm where it presses against his skin.

You sigh softly and go almost completely limp in his arms.

“Thanks,” you say, muffled.

Jacob opens his mouth to say let’s go home, but then Embry appears, calling your name in an unnecessarily loud voice.

“Y/N! Can you come help me— oh.”

He stops short at the sight of you limp as a ragdoll in Jacob’s arms. That, plus the look Jacob gives him.

“What, Em?” Jacob says, and it comes out a bit more harsh than he’d intended. He amends, “Sorry, she’s really tired. What do you want?”

Embry has the grace to look a bit sheepish. “Never mind,” he says.

You pull your face from Jacob’s neck, one arm still curved around his waist. “What is it, Embry? I can help, it’s fine—”

“No you can’t, we’re going home now,” Jacob interrupts, throwing you a look, annoyed and endeared by how sweet you are. “Ask someone else,” he tells Embry bluntly.

He’s pretty sure Embry rolls his eyes as he leaves, but he doesn’t care. You turn to look at him once Embry is gone.

“You’re mean,” you say, but you make it sound like I love you, and you wrap your arms around him again.

“And you’re tired,” he says back, ducking his head to press a quick kiss to your forehead. He pulls away but rubs your arm as he goes. “C’mon, I really am gonna take you home now, okay? Dad’ll already be asleep so it’ll just be me and you.”

You raise both eyebrows, pleased. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, feigning intrigue.

Jacob grins. “Whatever you want it to mean, sweetheart,” he says, though he hopes he’ll get to kiss you stupid like he’s been wanting to do all night.

[wheneverfeasible]

Based on this post by @jadewritesficshere

Steve looked at himself in the mirror from all angles. Maybe, even just a year ago, he might have squashed all of this down and pretended he was just like any other All American white boy in a Midwest state. Except a year ago he still carried the baggage of his failures and was trying to be someone he was not.

And then Robin Buckley, with her ‘You Rule, You Suck’ board, entered his life.

Now, he was able to fully appreciate how much he had never been able to get Eddie “the Freak” Munson out of his head. He might have played it off had this situation never arose, might have been able to keep his lies to himself secret, but…well. It was a good thing Vickie’s locker had been right next to Eddie’s.

Admittedly, he did feel a little guilty about using the lip gloss that Nancy had left at his place, but then she had let him borrow some before back when he worked at Scoops, so really…was it that bad?

He just hoped that Eddie liked the taste of strawberries.

If Steve was lucky enough to find out.

So here he was, fifteen minutes early, waiting to meet Eddie in the band room after school. He’d never been here, obviously, but he’d managed to sneak into the place Robin and Vickie frequented quite often. Luckily there were no other band geeks hoping to use the free time to practice their instruments…or their instruments—he never realized how fucking horny band geeks were before Robin spilled all that gossip. He should have cast his net wider in high school.

Anyways, Steve got himself ready, trying to pose himself perfectly against an abandoned desk, legs crossed at the ankles as he leaned back on his hands to push out his tits, or whatever guys had, accentuating the thickness of his thighs as well. He’s got this.

And then the handle was turning and there’s Eddie, glancing behind him to obviously make certain he wasn’t being followed and no one is paying attention to him—he must know that the room is used for more than just music practice too—before finally turning to face his supposed secret admirer as he closed the door.

Only to freeze when he caught sight of Steve, face draining of color. Steve was across the room in an instant, hand keeping the door shut where Eddie had turned and immediately tried to open it again, leaning into Eddie’s space with a small smirk.

“What’s the rush, Munson?” he murmured in a tone he hadn’t had to use in a while, letting his eyes drag over the dumb Dungeons & Dipshits club shirt Steve couldn’t wait to get his hands under. His eyes drifted lower, thinking of other things he’d like to get under. When his eyes finally made their way back up to Eddie’s face, the dude’s face was tinged pink.

“Ha-Harrington,” Eddie said with a small stutter, eyes darting frantically to the hand keeping the door closed. The metalhead cleared his throat, stiffening his spine as he seemed to gather himself, though he crossed his arms defensively across his chest. “Is this some sort of sick joke? Got you buddies hiding around here somewhere waiting to jump me?”

Steve softly snorted. “While I’ve had a threesome before, I’m not really interested in a gangbang. Besides, darling, I’m not super keen on sharing,” he purred, reaching out with his free hand to lightly brush through the curly hair at Eddie’s shoulder, twirling a strand with a smile.

To his credit, Eddie didn’t flinch, though he did frown severely. Even still, his eyes dropped to Steve’s lips for the briefest moment, which Steve took as a win. “What the hell, Harrington?”

Steve chuckled, moving to lean his shoulder against the door instead, since it allowed him to pop his ass out a bit. “You got my note, didn’t you?” A little fib since it wasn’t technically his note that Robin had accidentally slipped into Eddie’s locker, but whatever. “I wanna take you out on a date. Right now, if you’d let me.”

Eddie blinked at Steve like he couldn’t believe what was in front of him. “I know I have hair like Wheeler, but you do know I’m a dude, right? I have a dick.”

“You’re a musician, yeah?” Steve said, ignoring that for a moment to lean in closer, trailing the hand from Eddie’s hair down his arm. “Then I bet you’re really good with your hands.” He let his eyes drop to them meaningfully. “I bet those fingers can reach all sorts of places. Bet you know how to get the best sounds with them.”

When Steve looked back into Eddie’s face, it was flushed a bright pink this time, his mouth dropped open slightly in shock. Steve took the opportunity to press his fingers under that sharp jaw to close it with a soft click.

“Bet you’re talented with that mouth too.” And, okay, normally he wouldn’t be quite so forward with a girl, but Eddie wasn’t a girl. Things were a little different here. He had a feeling Eddie would appreciate the direct approach too. “You know, I’ve done a bit of singing myself. I’d love to show you my talent as well.”

Eddie let out a huff of breathless laugh of disbelief as he took several steps back into the room, holding his hands up. “I don’t know who put you up to this, man, but—”

“No one put me up to it,” Steve interrupted. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since high school and I would be the idiot of the century if I didn’t ask such a pretty boy like you out on a date.”

“No one thinks I’m pretty, Steve,” Eddie said with another nervous laugh, grabbing his hair to cover his mouth in embarrassment.

“Then everyone else has to be the idiot. You’re gorgeous, Eddie.” Steve let his gaze drop again, taking in all of Eddie’s lithe form. “You’re hot as fuck and I should have asked you out on a date years ago. Sorry I don’t have flowers with me, but if you let me take you on a date, I’ll buy you whatever flower you want.”

“D-dude, what even makes you think that I’m…you know,” Eddie said, eyes darting around as though searching for another escape route.

“Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have checked out my ass back in high school.” Eddie looked terrified again, which wasn’t Steve’s intention. He was supposed to be charming for Pete’s sake…whoever Pete was. He stepped forward, holding his hands out to show that he was without malice. “I promise I don’t mean any harm, Eddie.”

“No? Former Keg King and head cock of the roost Steve Harrington just asked Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson to an empty classroom to ask him on a date? Am I really supposed to believe that?” Eddie scoffed, arms once more wrapping around himself.

“I checked you out too, you know,” Steve murmured. “I think I did even before I realized that guys could be an option.” He licked his lips, tasting that hint of strawberry, but it had the desired effect of snapping Eddie’s gaze to them again as well.

“What, you wanna get dicked down by the king freak?” Eddie lightly sneered. “Really fell that far, Stevie?”

“What can I say, you’re easy to fall for,” Steve said with a wink, slinking his way slowly closer. That seemed to shut Eddie up, his face turning that lovely shade of dusty pink again. “But if you need me to fall further…”

Steve smirked as he dropped to his knees in front of Eddie, who gulped thickly enough that it was audible. He reached out to grab Eddie’s fingers, bringing them to his lips as he looked up at the older boy through his lashes.

“Because I am more than willing to worship Hawkins High’s one true king,” he whispered, pulling out all the stops as he brushed his lips over Eddie’s knuckles in a soft kiss. He had a feeling that a theatrical man like Eddie would appreciate some theatrics himself.

And appreciate it Eddie seemed to do, judging by the first honest look of awe on his face as he stared down at Steve. Like he was maybe starting to realize that Steve meant everything he was saying. Eddie drew in a deep, shuddering breath, before releasing it with a small smirk of his own.

“Is that so? And what does that make you, Steve? My dashing knight, ready to obey my every command?” Eddie murmured, turning his fingers in Steve’s hold to slip under Steve’s chin, his thumb brushing just under his glossy bottom lip.

Steve shivered at the touch. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Eddie, if it gives me the honor of taking you out on a date.”

“Well,” Eddie breathed. “You do look good on your knees.” He leaned in, bending down to bring his lips to Steve’s ear, his hair curtaining around them. “Do you look just as good on your back?” he whispered.

Steve grinned, bringing his other hand up to hold on to Eddie’s hip. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, Munson,” he murmured back. “So what do you say? Go on a date with me? I promise to treat you good. And then you can treat me very, very bad.”

Eddie flushed again, but he was smiling as he pulled back enough to look down at Steve. “That a promise, Sir Harrington?”

“Wanna seal it with a kiss?” Steve grinned.

It turned out, Eddie did like the taste of strawberries.

Later, when he learned the truth about the note mishap, Eddie laughed so hard he cried, but he didn’t waste any time in thanking Robin for her little blunder. After all, without it, he never would have gotten his first (and hopefully last) official boyfriend.

Who did, in fact, look entirely too good on his back.

~~~~~~

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