#value-focused content

[strategichannah]

Crafting a Value Proposition that Resonates with Your Audience

Create a value proposition that connects! Learn how to highlight your unique benefits and solve customer pain points to build a message that drives engagement. #MarketingTips

Crafting a Value Proposition that Resonates with Your Audience Written By: that Hannah Jones Time to Read: 5 minutes A value proposition is a promise of value to your customers. It explains why they should choose your product or service over a competitor’s and how you can meet their needs better than anyone else. A strong value proposition speaks directly to your audience’s problems and…

[astronomodome]

Feeling conflicted about the cyberpunk thingy impulse is going for because like yeah it’s a great theme and I like the aesthetics a lot but what I really like most about cyberpunk is the themes of corporate alienation and/or transhumanism etc etc which I know will not be addressed at all and in fact it’s kind of stupid of me to expect that at all from a minecraft series. Does anyone else get that or just me

[thedeafprophet]

The thing about Firmament is that it really is so My Area thus far tbh.... Dirigibles, Airships, and The Cieling....Mr Fires in the intro... an ex dawnburnt character talking about the dawn machine.... a vast library with mysterious lore implications and alternative timelines...a mysterious and intriguing woman I want to know things about, whos ALSO an engineer...

Can you tell I'm really excited for the next chapter alflglgkhhk

[ceramicbeetle]

half baked thought but 1) it’s funny when people act like hawkeye has a deep respect for marriage as an institution and that it’s something he cares about in any way and 2) funnier when people act like hawkeye settling down with one person in sudden post-canon monogamy is viewed like the only good and healthy way to address his issues around abandonment and like, self-worth

[villainsidestep]

me realizing fawniel is a more openly affectionate couple than fawnric: this is fucked up and evil behavior actually

[digitalaamir]

Mastering Instagram Growth: Why the Instagram Algorithm Loves Watch Time for Maximizing Engagement

https://www.instagram.com/prinikacademy/

To thrive on Instagram, it's crucial to understand why the Instagram Algorithm Loves Watch Time. This algorithm favors posts that capture and retain viewers’ attention for longer periods. When your content achieves high watch times, it signals to Instagram that your posts are valuable and engaging. This, in turn, boosts your content’s reach and visibility. Strategies to enhance watch time include crafting captivating videos, optimizing video length, and maintaining a strong narrative. By prioritizing watch time, you align your content with the algorithm’s preferences, driving higher engagement and fostering growth on the platform.

The Instagram Algorithm Loves Watch Time because it rewards content that keeps viewers engaged for longer. By focusing on creating compelling videos that increase watch time, you enhance your content’s chances of being prioritized by the algorithm. This leads to greater visibility and engagement on Instagram. Understanding and leveraging this aspect of the algorithm can significantly boost your social media strategy and contribute to your overall success on the platform.

The Instagram Algorithm Loves Watch Time because it rewards content that keeps viewers engaged for longer. By focusing on creating compelling videos that increase watch time, you enhance your content’s chances of being prioritized by the algorithm. This leads to greater visibility and engagement on Instagram. Understanding and leveraging this aspect of the algorithm can significantly boost your social media strategy and contribute to your overall success on the platform.

[jinusajas]

10/31/24; 06:45pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ their favorite positions ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel + bonus

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus swore that he lives to see the way your body arches as you ride him, giving him the perfect view of your backside as you planted both hands on the top of his thighs.

your breathy whines of his name makes a surge of desire course through him, with his cock hardening further for you each time it pierces through your silken walls. as you rode him in this position, sylus allows his large hands to grip at your breasts, causing you to cry out to him as you moved even faster against him.

“fuck…” he leans closer to you, making his broad chest meet with your back as he trails heated kisses across your skin. your movements became even more erratic now, with your needy cunt squeezing his shaft tightly, trying to milk him for all he was worth. the squelching sounds of your lovemaking makes sylus grunt in response, biting down against your bare shoulder while he gripped at your waist.

the powerful onychinus leader ends up bouncing you up and down his cock, purposely speeding up your movements as he meets with your hips with his own upwards thrusts.

“s-sy… i’m so close… i-“

you were suddenly cut off when sylus suddenly grips at your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze when his lips slot against yours in a fervent kiss. purposely speeding up his thrusts while he basks in your choked moans and how the tears kept streaming down your face. sylus continues to move your hips up and down his cock before stilling his hips, burying his cock within your slick heat when his cock grows before pumping the rest of his seed deep within your womb.

you end up tossing your head back at the sensation, turning away from his kiss as you cried out to him-

allowing sylus to relish in the way your moans seemed to echo throughout the room, letting everyone know just who you belonged to.

always known as being a man that valued romance above all else, of course zayne enjoyed making love to you in a more traditional position, with your legs spread wide, all while allowing the man to slot himself between them.

zayne swore that nothing felt as good as you did, relishing in the way your walls perfectly sheathed him. with him being so overwhelmed with pleasure, it takes him a herculean effort to keep himself from climaxing so soon.

and you weren’t faring any better.

your breathing becomes labored when you feel zayne hid his face within the curve of your neck, forcing your legs to open wider for him as he thrusts his cock in and out of your aching sex. his thrusts were filled with a desperation as you felt the way his cock seemed to reach even deeper inside of you with each new thrust.

unable to keep up with him, you could only manage to lay back while weakly looking down at where you and your beloved were connected, seeing zayne lazily pulling out his cock until only his tip was settled at your entrance before pistoning his hips back to you, hiding the entirety of his length within your scorching heat-

allowing your walls to grip him each time he came back to you.

“hah… z-zayne…” you were losing all of your senses now, completely focused on the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you when he keeps fucking you deeper into the sheets, causing your arousal to drip down onto the bed.

the sudden sensation of moisture surrounding him does not go unnoticed by zayne, causing him to quicken his thrusts as he moved in and out of you at an even faster pace.

“c-can’t hold back much longer… please-“ filled with a need that only you could quench, zayne calls out your name, reaching down below to gently pinch at your clit. red hot pleasure was now consuming you, with your back arched against the bed as you released yourself onto zayne’s cock.

when zayne feels the way your juices coat at his cock was when he finally stills his hips, a choked groan escaping from his parted lips as he reaches his climax. you moan at the sensation of his twitching cock filling your womb with his seed, falling back into bed with a content sigh. unable to hold back, zayne leans down to capture your lips, deepening his kiss as you willingly took in everything he had to offer.

after spending hours devouring the honeyed sweetness settled between your legs, ensuring that you would lose count of the sheer amount of times you had released into his awaiting mouth-

xavier would casually grip at both of your legs before tossing them over his shoulders, putting you in a mating press that allowed his eager cock to reach that much deeper inside of you.

with you practically helpless in this position, you were given little choice but to grip at your ruined sheets, allowing xavier to impale his cock deep inside of you over and over again, creating an almost hedonistic friction that you would never get over.

all words were lost the moment xavier kept meeting your hips with his passionate movements, his once sapphire gaze now eclipsed by complete darkness when he leans over to the side to give your ankles a kiss.

seeing him doing something so sensual makes your cunt grip at his cock even tighter in response, making your lover groan as he pressed your body even deeper into the mattress. the way he seemed to press his cock even further inside of you had you seeing stars as your pleasure seemed to increase by a tenfold.

“o-oh my g-god!” tears were streaming down your face now, yet xavier manages to swallow each and every one of your moans by giving you a searing kiss while moving even faster inside of you.

and when you and xavier managed to reach your mutual completion at the same time, the young hunter swore that nothing else gave him such pride than seeing you falling apart so sweetly for him.

despite the millions of times he had been intimate with you-

rafayel swore that he would never get used to how soft you were compared to him.

the young artist would always bask in your sweet moans as he kissed every inch of your skin, making sure that not a single part of you remained untouched or unmarred by his lips.

only when he was satisfied with completely marking you did he finally make his move, allowing your pliant form to lay back in bed as he gripped at one of your legs while kneeling close to you. he placed one of your legs on top of his shoulder, allowing the tip of his cock to trace at your pussy lips before slowly entering inside of you.

you gasp, with your face planted down against the sheets, taking in rafayel’s every movement while crying out to him. everything just felt heightened now, especially after your lemurian lover had taken his time with you, playing with your body like you were his own personal instrument, drawing out pretty moans from your parted lips each time he sank into you.

worshipping your body, rafayel keeps a steady pace when it came to his lovemaking with you. his eyes were shut and furrowed in concentration, trying to hold back from releasing too soon all while relishing in your soft gasps of his name.

and when rafayel would feel the way your walls would suddenly clench around him, he would slowly move out of you, only keeping his tip against your entrance while you whined and clawed at the sheets.

“r-rafe, d-don’t be so mean to me! i-i was so close-“

your whines were quickly cut off when he thrusts back inside of you, keeping your legs spread for him as he moved even faster against you, biting down on his bottom lip harshly when he felt his own release quickly approaching.

rafayel once had plans to savor this moment, to try and draw out this session of intimacy because the end would be so much sweeter-

yet hearing your whines and breathy moans makes him lose all of his inhibitions, choosing instead to work on chasing both of your highs, not minding to initiate a few more rounds with you even after he climaxed as his plans changed from prolonging your lovemaking to now making sure that you wouldn’t be able to walk.

caleb always believed that the right way to make love to his woman was to forever lay beneath her, allowing his beloved to use him as she pleased-

which was exactly what you were doing at this exact moment.

with caleb laid back in bed, he hides his face against the pillow, allowing you to bounce up and down on his cock while you steadied yourself against his broad chest.

he meets your gaze, saying your name in an almost reverent manner when his hands shakily reach up to frame at your face. he watches as your features continues to twist in pleasure, with your thrusts turning sloppier as you worked on stroking his cock with your slick walls.

after a few minutes spent in this position, you began to whine, your movements getting slower and slower. caleb notices the way you were panting and immediately sits up in bed. he gently caresses at your hair while cooing at you, “baby, what’s wrong?”

you whimper and lean into his touch, “c-caleb, getting… tired… n-need you…”

a surge of heat was felt traveling down to his cock, and he needed no further urging from you. the young pilot suddenly pins you to the bed without breaking apart your connection to him, pressing a hungry kiss against your lips all while swallowing your moans before pounding himself in and out of you.

you cry out to him, wrapping both of your legs around his waist as he quickened his pace, the movements becoming so passionate that the bed began to squeak in response.

running on pure instinct now, you focused on reaching your completion together, with you begging caleb not to stop as he continues to impale your cunt over and over again-

and if any of your neighbors had a keen sense of hearing, they would recognize your moans and the way it was heightened along with caleb’s desperate groans of your name.

end notes: too thirsty to care about editing… lmao but i’ll still make changes either way.

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[sophsweet]

How to Pick and Stick to your purpose, share it and light your path

I’m doing a day on Zoom today, 5th January 2024, with lots of “mindfulness” exercises, which aren’t my thing personally. I like tools and learning. I’m reading a book on stand-up comedy by Adam Bloom and it illustrates the power of talking to an audience as already filled up with ideas and showing them how to release those ideas with minimum barriers while maximum learning by doing. Although my…

[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part one

after hearing her gunpoint confession, your sister pressures you into airing your grievances at Rossi's wedding

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: takes place following/during 14x15 "truth or dare", fem!reader, established relationship, mentions roslyn, unresolved conflict, a lot of insecurity, cm violence, i think everyone has a fault in this word count: 2.47k a/n: so this idea popped into my head. i think the concept of spencer dating jj's younger sister is insane and i love it. i hope you like it as well. (i want to write a part two so bad i hate leaving things unresolved). also this is not jj hate that's my girl i loved her even before i loved spencer!!!!

“Please, can you just hear me out?” Your sister pleaded, keeping her voice low so you didn’t take any attention off of the bride and groom.

Bringing your glass to your lips, you shrugged, “I’m not sure this is the right place, Jennifer,” you murmured, looking across the room at your brother-in-law, “I think Will’s looking for you.”

She brushed off your dismissal, “I’ll go over once we figure this out. Let’s go out to the courtyard and talk.”

JJ reached out and gently gripped your elbow, trying to guide you through the French doors of the wedding venue, but you yanked your arm away, crossing your arms in front of your stomach. “It’s rude to leave now, this is a wedding, we’re guests here,” you scolded her, focusing your eyes forward. The ceremony was over, and everyone was mingling, but you refused to be the first to leave. Besides, going home would mean needing to face Spencer – another discussion you didn’t have the energy for.

You knew she hated leaving things unfinished. The both of you could feel the rift between you growing as if the earth was physically shifting beneath your feet. “It would just be for a second,” she urged.

Swallowing thickly, you shook your head, “It’s fifteen years of dirty laundry, Jayg. It’s going to take more than a second to air it out.” You frowned into your newly emptied glass before hauling yourself over to the bar, grateful that she didn’t follow, “Can you make me one of the pink glittery drinks?”

Penelope, the honorary bartender for the evening, nodded reassuringly, taking an already-made beverage from the counter and sliding it over to you, “You look like you could use it,” she observed.

You sighed in concurrence, “You have no idea,” you mumbled as you brought the glass to your lips. The drink itself was a bit of an abomination, so strong that it burnt your nostrils as it went down, “God, that’s strong.”

The technical analyst just laughed, making her way back to the dance floor to meet up with Luke and Matt. Your gaze flickered over other members of the team until you were met with familiar brown eyes.

There had been a ball of dread forming in your stomach ever since you returned from Los Angeles. From where you were standing now, the cut on your boyfriend’s hand that you had preoccupied yourself with seemed inconsequential. You watched him now, in real-time as he glanced between you and your sister, picking up on the tension as you avoided her.

Someone was bound to snap.

Walking away from the bar, you went out into the hallway, finding the nearest door and practically throwing yourself outside. Pulling your hair off the back of your neck with your free hand, you sat down on a moss-covered bench in the courtyard and waited for the cold night air to cool you off.

As expected, you heard the door behind you click. You couldn’t be bothered to look at who it was, if it was important to them, they’d come to you. Sure enough, you remained focused on your drink as Spencer took a seat on the bench next to you, “Aren’t you cold?”

“Alcohol,” you mumbled, “Keeps me warm.”

Not exactly the answer he was going for, but he took it at face value. He was probably more comfortable in his suit than you were in your dress. “Are you feeling alright?”

You thought about lying to him. Telling him that you were just tired, it had been a long week of watching your sister and boyfriend being held hostage in a pawn shop and hunting Everett Lynch on top of your normal caseload, but the thought of holding up that lie just made you feel worse. Taking a large sip of your drink, you took a deep breath before speaking, “Garcia recovered the audio from the CCTV footage inside of the pawn shop. Emily asked me to review the tapes and let her know if I thought there was anything pertinent that should be added to the case files.”

He didn’t respond for a while, knowing exactly what you were getting at but not sure how to further the conversation, “And did you?”

You lifted your glass again, “There wasn’t anything in the tapes that was necessary for the case. I buried the audio files and transcripts and sealed the file.”

“Thank you,” he said, relief evident in his tone.

You, however, frowned at his response, “’Thank you’?” You repeated, an accusation in your voice, “I was scared shitless while the two of you were in there, and all the while my sister was confessing her love for you.”

Spencer was quiet again, rendered speechless by your words. Your description was accurate, if not blunt.

You sniffled, setting your glass down and wrapping your arms around yourself, “I have never felt more humiliated, and no one else can ever know why.” You traced the cobblestones on the ground with your eyes as thoughts continued racing through your head. “God, is this why she pushed us together?”

The door behind you clicked again and you stiffened, closing your eyes when you heard JJ coming out into the courtyard, “Ducky, we need to talk.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you snapped at her, standing up and glaring at her. Your childhood nickname rang through your ears. A term of endearment given to you by your oldest sister now grated on your heart, shredding through each chamber. “I do not need to do anything,” you told her, narrowing your gaze.

Tears pricked your eyes, Please, JJ, just give me time to think. I just need a minute. Not everything has to be solved right away.

You were too proud to say the words aloud, but you thought it. You wanted to beg her for time. You wanted to plead with your sister for just a little bit of time to think things through.

She held her hands up in surrender, “I needed to tell Pinkner something that would satisfy him. You know the profile; you know what would’ve happened if I didn’t.”

Yes, and the image of both of them being held at gunpoint would haunt you for years to come, but that still didn’t justify any of it, not to you. Finishing off your drink, you set the crystal glass on the cobblestone bench and faced your sister, “Jennifer,” you said sharply, “Truth or dare?”

Her blue eyes widened as she looked between you and Spencer, who was wisely keeping his mouth shut, “Truth,” she answered, her voice so quiet you could barely hear it.

“Did you mean it?” You asked, the first of your tears finally flooding over your lash line.

You gripped the fabric of your dress in your hands as you waited for her answer, “Yes,” she told you.

Covering your face with your hands, you sighed deeply into them, “Fuck,” you cried. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you echoed. None of this made sense to you, JJ was married. JJ and Will were the kind of couple that you could look at and you would know that they belonged together, but now she was saying she had been in love with Spencer this whole time.

White hot tears stung the cold skin on your cheeks as you looked back up at your sister, waiting for her to say something else. “We went on an almost date years ago and nothing else ever came of it. Life just went on moving and we…” Her voice trailed off, either unable to finish her thought or unwilling to share.

“You’re married, JJ,” you said desperately, looking at her and wondering if she had told Will where she was going. “Does Will know? Did you tell him you’ve been stringing him along? Thirteen years in and two kids later?”

She faltered for a moment, and you knew you had hit your mark – it made you sick to your stomach. “No, I love him. I love my boys, you know that.”

You nodded numbly, “Yeah, I do, but I can’t keep going if you’re always going to be longing for what might’ve been.”

“You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she accused, tapping her right foot anxiously.

JJ might’ve grown up in Roslyn’s shadow, but you grew up in hers. Captain of the varsity soccer team, full-ride athletic scholarship at Pitt, and grad school at Georgetown. All leading up to her joining the bureau at twenty-three. You followed her, believing anywhere was better than Pennsylvania, and this is what it had gotten you. It was exhausting, being the one pushing the boulder up the hill, your hands were scraped, and she couldn’t see it.

Deftly, you wiped at the tears beneath your eyes, “I know exactly what I’m saying. Please, can you try and just look at this from my point of view? My big sister, who I’ve looked up to for my whole life, confessed her feelings for my boyfriend. My boyfriend who she set me up with.” Realization dawned on you, turning to face Spencer, “You were in love with her, and… I’m…” your voice trailed off.

Matching your train of thought, Spencer shook his head, reaching a hand out for yours, but you pulled away from him, “No, honey, please. It’s not like that.”

“You couldn’t have her, and I’m just the next best thing,” you told him miserably. “She met Will and got pregnant and got married and you were so in love with her that you took the off-brand version just to have something.”

Spencer shushed you, watching as tears fell from your cheeks, “I’m with you because I love you, not because of anything else.”

Your chest ached, it felt like someone had thrust their hand in the cavity and was squeezing as tightly as they could. You wanted to believe him. You so, so badly wanted to believe him. “Tell me,” you prompted, “tell me I’m not your second choice.”

“You are not my second choice,” he told you, and you watched. You watched for his tells, any sign at all that he was lying.

You shook your head at him, “Why did you lie to me? About the football game,” you asked him, a semi-permanent frown staying on your face.

He furrowed his brows and stood up in front of you, rubbing your arms up and down to keep you warm, “I didn’t lie to you.”

“You didn’t tell me. Neither of you did. That’s lying by omission, and you both know it,” you said, stepping away from him hesitantly. You didn’t know what to trust; you didn’t know what was real.

Spencer looked back at your sister, but she looked frozen, “It wasn’t a date,” he said simply. “I… I intended for it to be a date, but JJ invited Penelope and that was the end of it. I took it as her not being interested and that’s the truth. Nothing else ever happened between the two of us.”

You watched your sister, her mouth opening and closing as she scrounged for the right thing to say. “I said what I had to in order to survive,” she defended.

Sucking on your back molars, you shrugged helplessly in response, “I know,” you admitted. “I know that you probably planned on taking your truth to the grave with you, but… it’s out, Jayg.”

“I can explain everything to you,” she offered, “Please let me explain, Ducky.”

The desperation in her voice chiseled at your resolve, but it wasn’t enough. “I don’t have it in me,” you admitted. “I’m fresh out of fight and I just wanna go home,” you told her, looking at Spencer who nodded, heading back inside to gather your things.

You sat back down on the bench, propping your chin up on your hand.

“I couldn’t think of anything else to say,” she tried again, her voice gruff from holding back tears.

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes and breathed in the cold winter air, “I don’t really care, JJ. You said it, I heard it, and now you have to deal with it.”

She cleared her throat, “I would deal with it now, but you’re being petulant.”

Looking up at her, you frowned, “I told you inside that I didn’t want to talk about this here. You came outside. You sought me out to talk. Now you’re mad that I’m not being nice about it?” Something new bubbled in your stomach, the pit that had been forming there quickly evolved into anger.

“I was trying to save lives,” she tried again, insisting she was right.

You could live with her being right on that front. She was saving lives, and she needed a truth potent enough to sway the UnSub, but in all of her explanations, she never once apologized about this curveball. “I live with Spencer. I… when I give gifts, they’re signed from the both of us,” you told her. “Sometimes when we can’t sleep at night, we come up with baby names, and you’re in love with him. I asked for time, and you couldn’t give it to me. So, this is what you get.”

With Spencer reappearing at the door, you made your way out of the courtyard, he draped your coat over your shoulders, and you wrapped the wool around yourself as you made your way out. “I told Rossi and Krystall that you were tired, but I think they might have taken it as you had too much to drink,” he explained, opening the passenger side door for the car for you to get in.

A small smile tugged at your throat, “I don’t really care.” Maybe if you had gotten that drunk, your chest wouldn’t hurt so much.

The rest of the ride home was silent, small flurries started floating from the sky, and you watched the way they danced in the streetlights. Once you were home, you got ready for bed, grabbing a pillow off of your bed, and turning to the door, “Where are you going?” Spencer asked, returning from brushing his teeth.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch,” you told him softly, looking at the pillow that you were clutching in your arms.

He faltered for a moment, obviously taken aback by your decision, “Can we talk tomorrow?”

You frowned, letting your eyes lift to his, when it was dark, his eyes took on a certain kind of melancholia. It hurt to look at tonight. “Sure,” you offered weakly, turning around and heading for the couch.

“Are we gonna be okay?” He asked, fear creeping into his voice. Fear of losing you.

Glancing back at him as you lobbed the pillow on the couch, you gave him a gentle smile, “Yeah, Spence, we’ll figure it out. Just not tonight, okay?”

[spearofheaven]

AT THE SAME DAMN TIME.ᐟ.ᐟ— featuring GOJO, SATORU and GETO, SUGURU

CONTAINS: 18+ content, MDNI. threesome, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), consensual recording, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, etc.)

the first thing that they did when they heard about your breakup was laugh. not at you, of course, but rather at the situation. laugh at the tears you'd shed over a man they didn't even deem worthy enough to look at you.

over the man who'd tried to buy you a soda from the dollar value menu when it was thing, only for his card to end up declining.

and the second thing that they did was take you out to the mall-buying you an expensive gucci necklace in the process.

not because of the brand itself, no, but rather the emblem on the necklace-the two intertwined g's coated in swarovski crystals. crystals that glistened with even just the slightest sliver of light.

and now crystals that were glistening underneath your phone's flash. the very same two g's bounced off your chest with every thrust of sator's hips against your own, pushing your mouth even deeper down suguru's cock-serving as a reminder of who exactly was making you cum now.

but it wasn't enough for the two of them that there was a slight possibility your ex would see you with the necklace, they had to show him just exactly what he was missing out on.

"come on baby, look up at the camera f'me. tell your ex how it feels," suguru cooed, using his thumb to wipe off some of the drool leaking down your parted lips. you moaned against his cock, looking up at the camera with tear streaked eyes. "so good, sug-fuck!" your words came out muffled, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"yeah?" satoru didn't miss the opportunity to goad him on, one of his hands gripping your hip. the other moved to the small of your back, making you arch even further. "feels soo much better, huh? poor pussy's been neglected?"

you simply nodded, digging your nails into suguru's thighs. even though you hadn't responded, your cunt was more than happy to. loud squelches echoed throughout the room with every rhythmic plap! plap! of satoru's thrusts, pussy dripping over his cock like a running faucet.

satoru took the phone from suguru, focusing the lens on where your greedy cunt was practically swallowing his cock inch by inch. "did he even make you cum, sweetheart? or did he just make you cry?" he taunted even further, rubbing small circles onto your hip with his thumb.

"n-no," you turned your head back to look over at satoru, "said something was wrong with me." suguru clicked his tongue, taking your chin and bending down to your level. "nothin' wrong with you, angel. just everything wrong with your taste," his hair tickled the sides of your face as he leaned in, pressing his lips against your own.

you went back to slobbering over suguru's cock, hollowing your cheeks out in an attempt to take him further with each time sator fucked you into it. satoru took the hand on your back, rubbing at your engorged clit with two fingers. "come for me, we got you. gonna take care of you, yeah?"

your legs shook with your impending orgasm, your nails practically digging into suguru's thighs. “toru, fuck fuck, gonna cum, make me cum, please, plea-" incoherent babbles left your mouth before your orgasm washed over you like awave. the release had your toes curl and your tongue loll out from the corner of your mouth, cunt dripping over satoru's bedsheets.

"look at how pretty she looks when she cums," satoru clicked his tongue, scooping up your essence with his finger before sticking it in his mouth, "tastes so sweet, so good. and your shitty ex didn't wanna put in the effort."

"not like he'll ever see her like this again," suguru retorted, taking the phone to capture your fucked out expression, "you think she's gonna be satisfied after she had us?" he tossed the phone to the side, sliding his cock out of your mouth.

you weren't sure why you'd thought they'd be like your ex, when they'd proven to be nothing like him, but you still found yourself surprised to see that they were up for another round. nothing like the five minute quick and done that you'd grown.. regrettably accustomed to.

"come on, we got a year of orgasms to make up to you, pretty girl," suguru eased you onto your back, the two of them kneeling in between your legs. he dipped his tongue into your hole, lapping up the mixture of sator's cum and your own.

"lemme get a taste," satoru took suguru's chin, facing him before their lips crashed together into a sloppy kiss. the exchange between the two was more spit and tongue rather than passion, pure desperation and lust filling them. droplets of spit (who's? you weren't completely sure) landed against your skin, the scene in front of you enough to have you pressing your legs together.

satoru licked his lips when he pulled away, glancing back over at you with a cocky smile on his face, "keep 'em open, sweets. we didn't forget about you."

you didn't even remember why you'd cried so hard over your ex by the time the night was over.

A/N: thot i ate so hard w the gucci necklace LOLOLOL but here’s another repost

[buckyalpine]

Warnings: 18+ dub con, smut, Dark Bucky, breeding kinks. I want some Dark twin Bucky. Jealous twin Bucky. Manipulative, sexy, mob boss twisted Bucky. His brother James is everything good, everything wholesome, everything perfect. James had everything in life, the nicest house, a respectable job, the sweetest wife. Oh, how sweet his wife was.

Bucky couldn’t care less for the perfect reputation his brother had nor did he care for the money, he had so much more. More power. More control. The only thing his brother had that he wanted for himself was you. His brother didn't value or care for you for what you were worth, always working, focused on business, leaving you in the large house all by yourself. Bucky would have never. Not if he had you.

Loving, gentle, soft as silk.

Pure, untainted, everything he wasn't.

He had to have you.

"Babydoll"

You smiled hearing your husband enter your shared bedroom as you got out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy towel around yourself before going to greet him. He sat at the edge of the bed with a knowing smirk, shamelessly eyeing you up and down like he always did, your cheeks heating up under his watchful stare. You loved how much he adored you. He strode over, humming at the scent of your body wash, his nose trailing up the column of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin, his hands wandering to the edge of your towel.

"Miss me, baby?" He pulled it off, letting it pool to the floor leaving you bare before him, picking you up and laying on on the mattress, you were so perfect, pliant, he could already smell your arousal, your nipples pebbled against the cold air begging for his warm mouth.

"moy kotenok" He purred, nipping at your earlobe, your brows knitting in confusion, he never spoke Russian to you, only his brother-

“James?” You squeak, your heart starting to beat rapidly, blood running cold. This wasn’t your husband. You tried to scramble away, cover yourself but he grabbed your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head. You then noticed the dark ink that peekd beneath his shirt, his telltale silver chain slipping out and dangling above your face. Your husband only wore his wedding ring, you tried so hard, unable to move his heavy body off you.

"Bucky-Bucky get off, what are you doing-

"Taking what should be mine, kotenok, showing you what being loved by a real man is like" He crawled off you, thighs spread wide kneeling in front of you. "He doesn't know what you deserve printsessa"

He shoved your legs apart, holding them from squirming, your twitching pearl amusing him. "S'been long, hasn't it, you say you don't want me but that swollen button says otherwise, what if I-"

He spits onto your clit making you cry out, a rough calloused thumb coming down to flick it to his hearts content. Your body jolted at the sensation, it was wrong, so wrong, God it had been so fucking long...

No.

"Bucky st-stop" You hiccupped as he moved faster, he could see your slick dampening the sheets, his idiot brother didn't know what he was missing.

"Why would I do that, hm? Look at how your body responds to me, you want this. Gonna get you so pregnant, bunny” Bucky smirked, giving his thick bulge a squeeze, making a show of shamelessly palming his erection. “Y’wouldnt even know who the daddy is”

He doesn't waste a second pulling his cock out, grinning at the way your cunt welcomes him home despite your futile protests. You scratch at him between moans of pleasure, your legs wrapping around his tapered waist. He pounds into you with purpose, he wants his child in your belly, he couldn't wait to see his brother dote on you not knowing any better.

He got harder thinking about your breasts leaking with milk as you got bigger, milk to feed his baby, milk to feed him. He'd find a way.

"Gonna put my child in you printsessa, give you my baby, show you where a man puts his cum, you'll take it won't you bunny, such a good housewife"

"No-No you-you can't oh God!" Your body shudders as pleasure and guilt washes over you, clinging onto him for dear life as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"That's right, cum for me, he can't make you cum like I can, don't think I haven't heard you with him, look at you, just a slutty little mess, you smell of sex kitten"

He intends on making the biggest mess in your pussy, needing it to drip onto the sheets you sleep in. You'd stay wrapped up in his essence while it leaked out of you, his sperm exactly where it needed to be, right in your belly-

"Get ready kitten, get ready to take it, fuck-squeezing me so good, tell me you want it, I know you do, m'gonna cum so hard for you princess, just for you, all this-fuck-do you feel it, s'all for you, SHIITTT" He roared, pumping you with the stutter of his hips, the headboard slamming against the wall as he emptied himself, shamelessly moaning into your neck.

The next 9 months would be interesting.

[astrologydray]

Ruler of the 10th through the houses

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

the ruler of the 10th house through the houses reveals how you chase success, legacy, visibility, and your “big life purpose.”So when we trace the ruler of your 10th house, we see how and where you rise — your path to becoming known, respected, and remembered.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 1st House

You are the brand.

Your identity and presence are your career. You’re meant to be seen, known, and admired for being authentically you. People naturally look to you as a leader. Public image: Confident, bold, self-made. Career calling: Personal branding, influencer, leadership. “My name is my legacy.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 2nd House

You build your legacy through value.

Your work is tied to money, security, and your self-worth. You’re meant to create something lasting and profitable — whether through art, business, or slow, solid success. Public image: Reliable, successful, grounded. Career calling: Entrepreneurship, beauty, finance, resources. “I earn my legacy.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 3rd House

Your voice is your path.

You’re known for how you speak, write, or connect. You may find success through content creation, teaching, writing, media, or tech. Movement, flexibility, and messaging are key. Public image: Clever, informed, articulate. Career calling: Writing, communications, marketing, social media. “My message is my mission.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 4th House

You rise from your roots.

Your legacy is built from your past, family, or emotional story. You may be known for healing, nurturing, real estate, or helping others feel safe. You want to be known and deeply grounded. Public image: Empathic, homey, deep. Career calling: Counseling, healing, home-based work, heritage work.“My past shaped my purpose.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 5th House

You shine through creativity.

You’re known for your art, presence, charisma, or performance. You may gain recognition through entertainment, children’s work, design, or self-expression. Public image: Charismatic, magnetic, artistic. Career calling: Acting, fashion, content, teaching youth, love + art. “I create my legacy with flair.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 6th House

You rise through service.

Your work may feel humble — but it’s sacred. You’re recognized for being reliable, helpful, organized, or health-conscious. You may work in wellness, routines, or healing fields. Public image: Helpful, hardworking, healing Career calling: Medicine, therapy, systems, admin, animal care. “I serve my purpose daily.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 7th House

You’re known through your relationships.

You may be seen publicly with a partner, or your career may involve clients, law, beauty, or partnerships. You’re here to collaborate and be seen as a fair leader. Public image: Diplomatic, beautiful, relationship-focused. Career calling: Law, counseling, PR, design, client-based success. “We rise together.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 8th House

You rise from the shadows.

You’re known for transformation — healing, mystery, power, taboo topics. You may work with money, sexuality, trauma, or deep emotional truths. You’re a secret weapon. Public image: Intense, mysterious, powerful. Career calling: Psychology, finance, spiritual work, sex ed, alchemy. “My legacy is rebirth.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 9th House

You’re known for your wisdom.

You gain recognition through teaching, travel, philosophy, or spirituality. People see you as a guide, mentor, or someone with a visionary mind. You’re here to expand consciousness. Public image: Worldly, inspiring, intelligent. Career calling: Teaching, publishing, law, religion, coaching. “I lead through truth.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 10th House

Boss energy on 100.

You were born to be seen, respected, and in charge. You’re clear on your path and probably rise early in life. Your authority is part of your soul contract. Public image: Professional, respected, unstoppable. Career calling: CEO, leader, public figure, status-based roles. “Legacy is my birthright.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 11th House

You rise with the people.

Your success comes through community, tech, activism, or online spaces. You’re a changemaker, futurist, or innovator who’s meant to impact the collective. Public image: Visionary, rebellious, forward-thinking. Career calling: Tech, media, social work, entrepreneurship, online fame. “I rise when I lift others.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

10th House Ruler in the 12th House

Your purpose is sacred + spiritual.

You may work behind the scenes, in healing arts, film, or with vulnerable populations. Your legacy is dreamy, ethereal, and emotionally rich — not always tied to status or fame. Public image: Mystical, poetic, soulful. Career calling: Music, healing, nonprofits, spiritual work, film. “My purpose lives in the unseen.”

[drfruitcake]

Matcha

Michael Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (language and smut) Word count: ~17,000 Tags: slow burn, slight plot but mostly just an excuse for eventual smut, slight age gap, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, friends to lovers, colleagues to lovers, mutual pining, meet the parents, reader insert, no y/n, 2nd person POV, no beta

Summary: It's Thanksgiving and you're en route to introduce your boyfriend, Dr. Robby, to your parents for the first time. Though you're nervous about their reaction to your age difference, you reflect on the journey of your relationship and how proud you are to call him yours.

Notes: Reader is a 35-year-old psych doc. Dr. Robby is 50. This takes place a year after S1 ends. I never know if I should refer to him as Michael or Robby, but Michael just feels so weird to me. Also, I am not a doctor or any type of medical professional, so please forgive any medical inaccuracies. Thanks to all who take the time to read!

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Nope, not like this.

Bringing a boyfriend home to meet your parents was supposed to be thrilling. And truthfully, it was. You adored your boyfriend and you were proud of him. After years of a slow-burn back-and-forth, the two of you finally breached the boundaries of the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ whispers within the curious confines of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.

So yes, you were excited to introduce your man to your parents, and they were excited to meet him, too. After all, you hadn’t introduced them to a boyfriend in nearly two decades, since you were sixteen. They’d spent years patiently waiting on you to finish med school and acclimate to your career. Now, they were ready to see you settle down and start a family. They were both newly retired and itching for grandchildren. 

But they didn’t know your boyfriend was closer to them in age than he was to you.

You, personally, didn’t view it as a problem. It wasn’t a scandalous age gap. Your boyfriend was experienced, mature, and over the performative bullshit that often accompanied relationships. He was open, honest and blunt about what he wanted, not to mention he was in therapy now, something most men your age avoided like the plague. He made you feel safe and secure, valued and loved. Most importantly, you couldn’t get enough of each other.

So yes, you loved your boyfriend. But you weren’t sure your parents would love the notion of their 35-year-old daughter dating a 50-year-old man.

The drive from Pittsburgh to Cleveland was quiet at first. You insisted on driving – you enjoyed it and you knew where you were going, you claimed. In truth, you hoped focusing on the roads would prevent you from dwelling too deep within your own insecurities.

The roads swished with steady traffic beneath grey skies as other travelers headed home for the Thanksgiving holiday. You promised your mother you’d arrive by 2 p.m. Dinner was planned for 4 p.m., and then you’d spend the night at your parents’ house before returning to Pittsburgh in the morning.

It all seemed so simple. The plans were in place, your parents were happily awaiting your arrival, and you were smitten with the man sitting beside you. But your brain buzzed with anxious energy.

Your parents were good people – kind, friendly and hard-working. They ensured you got into med school and supported your decision to specialize in psych, rather than become a primary care physician like they’d hoped. And when you’d decided to remain in Pittsburgh rather than return to Cleveland to work, they remained supportive.

But they were still old-school, set in a particular way of doing things. Your dad was protective and your mom still worried far too much about what others thought. And now, you were worried over what they’d think. 

There was no reason for them to dislike your boyfriend beyond your age gap. He was handsome and humble, but sharply intelligent and competent. Most importantly, he adored you. But you weren’t sure your parents would be able to see past the 15 years that separated you. They’d surely wonder what a 50-year-old man was doing with you.

Sometimes you wondered that, too. There was the obvious – you were pretty. And you were sharp as hell, often deemed snarky and sarcastic by your friends, but also one of the smartest people in every room. You were the classic honor student turned doctor, but that of course meant you’d ignored much of the social life you should have had in your 20s. Dating wasn’t your expertise. You were more of the girl who went home with men and forgot to call them back. But while others looked at you as the boring, albeit brilliant, workaholic, your boyfriend saw someone who understood the sacrifices required of a career in health care.

You knew your parents would also wonder what you saw in him. The short answer was everything, but you also knew few people understood your boyfriend the way you did. Others saw a man who could be gruff and moody. You saw a man who merely wanted to save as many people as possible, even if it meant sacrificing his own best interests. But you were helping him work on that.

Others also wondered why you didn’t date someone your own age, who didn’t carry as much emotional baggage, or who better aligned with your generational interests. You saw a man who didn’t lie or cheat, who didn’t waste your time or his, and who preferred to catch a ballgame than catch an STI at the club.

The two of you were simpatico, a match meant only for your understanding. You brought light to his darkness, but you never tried to extinguish it. You didn’t view him as someone who needed fixing. You embraced him exactly as he was, with hopes that seeing and accepting him would help him find comfort in you.

With twenty minutes remaining in your drive, the soft sounds of Springsteen wafting from the car speakers, you snuck a sideways glance. Though the two of you often sat in peaceful silence, your boyfriend was fidgeting with the strap of his seatbelt. His eyes remained forward, but it was clear he wasn’t actually observing anything.

“Robby,” you said gently, your eyes glinting with warm amusement. “You alright?”

His eyes shifted toward yours and he offered you a reassuring smile.

“Oh yeah, I’m good,” he said. You turned your head slightly to offer him a pointed stare, your eyes quickly returning to the road.

“Liar.” You smirked sideways at him and he chuckled.

“I’m fine, really,” he assured. “This is just…”

“Weird,” you finished. “It’s weird.”

“You said it, not me.”

It was your turn to chuckle softly. “I know,” you said sincerely. “I know it’s weird. Trust me, this was not on my life’s bingo card.”

“What, you mean to tell me the teenage version of yourself never envisioned bringing a 50-year-old boyfriend home to Mom and Dad?”

You laughed. “The teenage version of myself was supposed to end up marrying the lead singer of My Chemical Romance.”

“Guess that shouldn’t surprise me,” Robby said. “Your vinyl collection is atrocious.”

“Says the man who only owns Springsteen albums.”

“Hey, respect your elders.”

You rolled your eyes, the corners of your lips curved upward in a smile. “They’ll love you, you know,” you said encouragingly. 

“I still think you should have disclosed some of the more important details,” Robby muttered.

“I did disclose the important details,” you noted. “I told them you’re an ER doc at Pitt Trauma, that you’ve never been married, no kids and no criminal background.”

“Just not the part where I’m only twelve years younger than your dad.”

“And you’re only fifteen years older than me. It’s not a big deal,” you insisted. “It’s not like this is a Bill Belichick situation.”

“Isn’t your dad a Browns fan?”

“Yes.”

“Feel like I’d be better off as Belichick.”

You heaved a sigh, though you’d be lying if you said you weren’t entertained. After all, this was a predicament of your own doing, so you might as well learn to laugh through the discomfort. Not that you’d intended to fall for the ER’s senior attending in the first place. 

Your crush on Dr. Robby developed long before you had any idea you’d end up working in the same hospital as him long-term. 

You first met him in the Pitt Trauma ER during your clinical rotations, where you quickly decided you weren’t interested in emergency medicine. Still, you developed a close bond with the ER staff and grew to view many of them like family. Once you’d decided on psych, you desperately wanted a residency at Pitt Trauma to remain close to them.

But even after you completed your residency and cemented your spot on staff within the Pitt Trauma psychiatric care team, you never predicted you’d find love within the hospital’s walls, too. After your residency, you opened up more to dating. You swiped your way through apps, stumbled home with men from bars and even let Dana set you up with a family friend.

Dates came and went, some stuck around for weeks, even months. You even had a three-month fling with Dr. Shen that fizzled when you discovered him following far too many models on Instagram.

But you never envisioned yourself in a months-long relationship with Dr. Robby of all people. You’d always admired him from afar, a schoolgirl-type crush in which you often daydreamed of pulling him into a supply closet for a hook-up, but never thought you’d learn what he eats for breakfast or what brand of deodorant he buys.

But your attraction stemmed from more than mere physical desire. You felt pulled to him. He was confident and commanding, respected and revered. Even when you made it clear you weren’t interested in pursuing emergency medicine, Robby taught you things few students had the opportunity to learn. And when you revealed you were interested in psych, he ensured you were included in all of the interesting psych cases.

You respected the hell out of Dr. Robby. The gentle banter and attraction for him were merely bonuses, as far as you were concerned.

But once you began visiting the ER for psych consultations and were no longer under his direct supervision, your chemistry with Dr. Robby ignited from a simmer to a rapid, rolling boil.

Your colleagues noticed, no matter how much you insisted on the contrary. Meanwhile, you remained convinced Dr. Robby remained clueless. But he heard the whispers, too. He shrugged off inquisitive remarks from Dana and Dr. Abbot, stifled the jealousy that shredded his insides when you dated Dr. Shen, and did his best to maintain a respectful and professional distance.

The night at the bar was the first time the two of you approached the edge, the near-tipping point into something you couldn’t claw your way back from. 

Trinity convinced you to go, insisting that most of the ER day shift would be there. So you tagged along and spent the first portion of the night laughing and drinking with your old friends.

You enjoyed catching up with them, nostalgic for your time spent in the trenches of The Pitt, while your eyes occasionally swept toward the TV airing the Pirates game above the bar. You were simply checking the score, you told yourself. You were most certainly not glancing at Robby, who stood at the opposite end of the bar with Frank Langdon.

But as the night progressed, so did the confidence in some random bar bro who offered to buy you drinks. You kindly thanked him for the offer and said no, but he lingered. You could feel his eyes clinging to you the entire evening, like a predator biding his time.

Typically your friends would have your back and tell the guy to fuck off. Typically you would, too.

But Samira was working late, Cassie was with her son and Trinity was too busy trying to beat Mateo on the skee-ball machine. And an incident a few weeks prior hovered in the back of your mind. 

You were in line at a coffee shop when a man struck up a conversation with you. You were polite and friendly, perhaps too much, because by the time you left the shop, he asked you to dinner. And when you said no, he called you a “fucking tease” and a “waste of time,” vowing that someday, women like you would "pay for your bullshit behavior.”

So when the bro at the bar moved in again, the smell of liquor and cigarettes smothering your senses as he tried to ask about your Penguins sweatshirt, you seized an opportunity as Robby happened to emerge from the bathroom.

“There you are!” you squealed, making a quick beeline toward him, leaving the bro with your vacated barstool. You tossed your arms around Robby’s neck and he froze, his eyes wide in confusion and lips lopsided in an amused smile. “Babe, it was the longest day without you!”

“Uh, you too,” Robby managed, his posture rigid. Neither of you could believe you were that close. You silently thanked the gods that Robby was sharp enough to catch on to what was happening.

“Babe, let’s go out back to the patio and have a smoke,” you said, grabbing Robby by the hand to drag him toward the back door. He followed you without resistance.

You snuck one final glance toward the bro at the bar, who was scowling at your retreating forms. Once outside, you dropped Robby’s hand immediately. 

“I am so sorry!” you exclaimed hurriedly. “That guy, he’s been following me around all night. Couldn't take a hint.”

“It’s alright,” Robby chuckled, amusement blooming within his warm eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you said with an assuring nod. “Just didn’t want that weirdo near me anymore.”

“I’ve been watching him all night. Seems like he was pretty drunk.”

Your lips thinned at Robby’s admission. Why had he been watching that guy? Was it because he was also keeping an eye on you? You swallowed the naive notion and flashed Robby a grin.

“I’m sure he’s harmless,” you said. “But can’t be too sure. Anyway, thank you for… you know, being my boyfriend for 30 seconds.”

“Anytime.” Robby stood with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets, the signature pose you’d come to expect from him. You struggled to meet his eyes and prayed he couldn't see the flush creeping up the back of your neck.

“Well, I think I’m going to call it a night,” you finally said with a soft smile. 

“I’ll come with you.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I’ll walk you home.” More amusement glimmered in Robby’s eyes and all you could think about was how fucking appealing he looked.

“Oh. No, you don’t have to do that,” you said as casually as you could manage; nevermind the sudden spike in the pitch of your voice. “My apartment isn’t far, I’ll be fine. I have pepper spray.”

“Nonsense,” Robby said, motioning you toward the door. “I couldn’t live with myself if I let you walk home alone after some creep’s been following you all night. I was getting ready to head out anyway.”

Heaven help you. You returned inside the bar, where you waved goodbye to your friends and pretended to ignore Trinity’s piercing stare when she realized Robby was leaving with you. 

Once outside on the sidewalk, you silently begged every higher power to prevent you from embarrassing yourself. You weren’t sure why you were so flustered – beyond the fact the man you’d held a years-long torch for was walking you home.

But this was Dr. Robby. You’d known him for years and you were comfortable in his presence (when you weren’t thinking about how handsome he was or how nice his hands were). There was no reason to be rattled by him. Nothing had ever happened between the two of you, nor would it in the future, you reminded yourself. He was your colleague and a mentor. You couldn’t allow your silly crush to jeopardize your relationship.

“Did you, uh, end up admitting that patient this afternoon?” Robby asked as you walked. “The man who was presenting with ideation?”

“We did,” you sighed. “He has family flying in from Florida in the morning.”

Robby nodded in quiet acknowledgment. Silence settled between the two of you, and you couldn’t decide if you were grateful or terrified. You glanced at your phone to check the score of the Pirates game, desperate for a distraction. Robby smiled.

“Still the eighth inning?” he asked.

You shook your head as you slid your phone back into your bag. “Bottom of the ninth. They’re down one.”

“You ever find one of those co-ed softball leagues?” Robby asked. “I remember you mentioning wanting to join one.”

“I did, but it was too late,” you replied. “Their season had already started and the spots were full.”

“Ah, too bad.”

“I was thinking we could start a Pitt Trauma team,” you mused. “Santos said she used to play and Langdon’s competitive as hell. Could be fun. You in?”

“Oh, no one wants to see that,” Robby joked with a shake of the head. 

“Oh, come on,” you teased. “You love baseball. How bad can you be?”

“I’d rather not find out.”

You laughed, thankful for the ease in your self-inflicted tension. But as you neared your building, the anxiety bubbled into your throat again. 

“Cool building,” Robby commented as you approached the front steps. His head tilted backward as he scanned the building’s exterior to admire the historic details. “I love this part of town, all the old architecture.”

“It’s a great neighborhood,” you agreed. In fact, the architecture and old charm was precisely why you’d picked it. You fished your keys from your bag and met Robby’s eyes with a smile. “Well, thanks for getting me home… and for, you know, keeping me safe from bar creeps.”

“Anytime,” Robby said. The warmth in his eyes seemed to permeate your skin, sweeping across your flesh with a crimson flush. You hoped it was too dark to notice.

You knew it was time to say goodnight, or to say literally anything to initiate your exit. It was time to go inside, to hop in the shower and crawl into bed to pretend you weren’t down bad for the senior attending of the ER. But you remained frozen in place, your feet unable – and perhaps unwilling – to step away from Robby.

“See you tomorrow?” you finally managed. Robby seemed to swallow, though his eyes held your gaze, heavy and intense. They pierced the battlements of your resolve, then flickered downward for a fleeting moment toward your lips. You held your breath as you wondered if he was going to kiss you. Your heart threatened to slam against your ribcage. 

“Ah, yeah, I’m on tomorrow,” he said instead, knocking the air from your lungs with disappointment.

“Oh, great,” you said, much too cheerily. “See you then. Goodnight, Dr. Robby.”

“Goodnight.”

You avoided the ER at all costs the next day.

Weeks passed and you had managed to move past whatever that moment was outside your apartment. In fact, you convinced yourself it was nothing. Robby acted no differently at work, so you decided to do the same. You had merely been swept up in a wave of wishful thinking, you told yourself.

But the fire changed everything.

It was your day off and you’d spent the afternoon running errands around town before meeting up with a college friend for dinner and drinks. 

You declined to mention Robby when she pressed you for details on your dating life. After all, he’d need to ask you on a date for it to count as anything more than a crush, right? Instead, you merely shrugged and insisted you weren’t seeing anyone, nor were you interested in any prospects. Your friend called you boring. You didn’t disagree.

As she disclosed more details about her upcoming wedding, you were none the wiser to the fire that threatened to destroy your home. In fact, Robby learned of it first.

The ER received two transports from the scene, a mother and son who had suffered burns and smoke inhalation. Then more victims trickled in, none seriously injured but coughing and covered in smoke and soot.

“What happened?” Robby asked as another victim was wheeled past him.

“Apartment fire,” one of the EMTs answered. “1100 block of Liberty Avenue.”

Robby froze. “Liberty Avenue?”

“Yeah, big old brick building. Sounds like it started as a dryer fire in the basement.”

Robby swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Focus, he told himself. You’re needed here. She doesn’t need you.

But by the end of his shift, he was damn near ready to sprint to Liberty Avenue. He went straight there, eyes roaming the building as he approached. The flames and smoke had been doused hours ago, but fire crews were still on scene and the sidewalks were still wet. 

He didn’t know why he thought he’d be able to help you. The entire building had been evacuated, its residents gone in search of other living arrangements. You had always been tough and independent. Surely you’d already figured things out.

Robby heaved a sigh and shook his head, annoyed at himself for coming there. If you’d needed him, you would have reached out. And the notion that you would have picked him for help now felt silly. You were closer with McKay, Mohan, even Dana would have been a likelier choice. 

He turned to head home, his eyes widening when they landed on you. You had just rounded the corner from the bus stop, your shocked expression revealing that this was the first time you’d been home all day. Before he could react, Robby watched you sprint toward the building before you were stopped by the fire crew. He jogged after you.

“But I need my stuff!” you were shouting. “All of my stuff is in there!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we can’t let anyone in. It could be dangerous. The structure has to be checked and secured, and the investigators need time to determine the fire’s cause,” a fireman told you.

“But what do I do? Where do I go? I have nowhere to stay! I have no stuff!” 

“See that van over there?” The fireman gestured toward the other side of the street. “That’s the American Red Cross. They’ll help you out.”

“But my stuff— Dr. Robby? What are you doing here?”

“I heard about the fire at work,” Robby answered quickly. “We treated a few of the victims and I… I thought I’d check and make sure you’re okay.”

“Clearly not,” you mumbled, your head spinning at the overwhelming clash of emotion. You were exhausted and stunned, scared and aggravated. But you were also relieved to see Robby.

“Come on,” he said, draping a gentle arm around your shoulder. “You can crash at my place.”

“What? Oh- no, no I can’t ask you to do that-” you started, your panic threatening to swell into a full-blown attack.

“You’re right, you can’t, because you don’t need to ask,” Robby said. 

“No,” you repeated. “I can’t, I won’t be a burden. I mean, I don’t even know how long until they’ll let me move back in and-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Robby said. He began steering you away from the building. 

“But I have no clothes. I have work in the morning. How am-”

“I’ll hook you up,” Robby said. “At least until the morning when we can get you some new clothes.”

You didn’t want new clothes. You wanted your clothes, which were carefully curated from years of an Anthropologie shopping addiction. Besides, Robby lived alone. He didn’t have a girlfriend or wife or daughter whose clothes you could borrow. Your eyes began to tear up at the thought of having to sleep in the jeans you were wearing. But it wasn’t the actual jeans or clothes that were making you cry. It was the sudden, crushing realization of what was happening to you.

You refused to let Robby see you cry, so instead you walked in determined silence. You didn’t even notice when you reached his building until he was leading you into an elevator. You stared at your reflection in the steel doors. Robby remained quiet.

When he unlocked his door and motioned you inside, you paused. You never dreamed you’d actually ever see the inside of Robby’s home, let alone under such bizarre circumstances.

“Go on,” Robby said in your ear as he held the door open for you. “I promise, it’ll be fine.”

You held your breath and stepped inside. Had you not been distraught over your present predicament, you might have smiled. Robby’s apartment was exactly as you would have imagined – clean and tidy, but completely lacking in character or decor. The far wall was exposed brick and a vinyl record player sat on a table against it. There was no artwork on the walls, but a framed photo of Robby and Jake at a Pirates game sat on a corner of the TV stand.

“Make yourself at home, okay? I’ll be right back,” Robby said as he brushed past you. He tossed his backpack and keys on the counter before disappearing down the hallway.

As you stood, glued to your spot near the door, Robby scrambled around his bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, his bedroom was neat and orderly, but he kicked his laundry basket into the corner and hurriedly changed the bedding. He had nothing to hide, nothing embarrassing in the apartment, but he still felt the undeniable pressure to impress you. Or at the very least, he wanted you to feel comfortable. 

He popped into the bathroom to make sure it was clean – it was – before returning to you. You hadn’t moved.

“Are you alright?” Robby asked gently. His eyes suffocated you with their concern.

“I’m fine,” you sighed. “Just… processing everything, is all.”

Robby nodded with sympathy. “I can’t imagine how you feel right now,” he said. “If there’s anything I can do-”

“Trust me, you’re doing more than enough,” you said. 

“Well, if there’s anything more I can do, just ask.”

“You know I won’t,” you couldn’t help but joke. Robby smiled.

“I know,” he agreed. “It’s not like you to ask for help. But I want you to know you can.”

You nodded in silent acknowledgement, not that either of you believed you.

“Right now, all I want is a hot shower. And maybe a beer.”

“At the same time?”

“Do I look like a frat boy to you?”

“Just checking.” Robby chuckled as he motioned you toward the hallway. He reached into the bathroom to turn the light on before he stood back, hands finding their usual place in the pockets of his hoodie. “Towels are under the sink. Take your time and I’ll go get that beer ready. No IPAs, right?”

“Right,” you breathed, flattered he remembered your beer preferences. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Robby retreated to the kitchen and you quietly snapped the bathroom door shut. You closed your eyes, grateful for the peace and solitude. And once you stepped into the hot shower, you couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to yourself. You couldn’t believe where the fuck you’d ended up. 

You were presently naked in Robby’s apartment, no clothing, nowhere to go. Sure, you could have checked into a hotel, but something had blocked your brain from entertaining the idea. You blinked at the bottles of shampoo and soap and snorted. What the fuck is Old Spice Swagger? You sighed and lathered up, your senses quickly recognizing the familiar woodsy scent that you had always associated with Robby. 

By the time you finished showering, steam had fully fogged up the bathroom mirror. You dug beneath the sink for a towel and cursed under your breath. Clothes. You forgot to ask for clothes. 

You muttered a string of “fucks” under your breath before securing the towel around your body. You checked it twice and a third time until you were certain it was more secure than a deadbolt. 

Your feet padded quietly down the hallway until you carefully peeked around the corner. Robby was sitting on the leather sofa, a beer in hand while the Pirates game played on TV. You inhaled sharply, as if oxygen would give you the courage to speak up.

“Hey,” you managed, stepping tentatively into the living room, very aware that you were nearly naked in front of someone who was technically your superior. “Um, I need some  clothes.”

“Oh, fuck!” Robby exclaimed as he scrambled to his feet. It would’ve been a comical moment had his eyes not been so wide and your cheeks not so flushed. He set his beer down and scurried past you into the hallway. “Sorry, I meant to get you some clothes before you got in the shower.”

“It’s my bad, I should have asked,” you offered, fingers gripping your towel for dear life. You followed Robby toward the bedroom and lingered in the doorway, unsure if you should follow him as he rummaged through his dresser. After all, when you’d fantasized about being naked in his bedroom, it certainly wasn’t under these circumstances.

“Here,” he said, offering you a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt. You took the pants but blinked pointedly at the shirt.

“I'm not wearing that,” you deadpanned.

“What? What’s wrong with– oh, that’s right. You’re a Cleveland girl.”

“Damn right, I am. I won’t be caught dead in Steelers gear.”

“But you root for the Pirates.”

“That’s different. Different divisions, plus Cleveland’s in the American League. I don’t mind rooting for an American League and a National League team. Now put that hideous Steelers shirt away… or in the garbage.”

“Right, right, I get it,” Robby sighed. He returned to the dresser and fished out another shirt. “Here,” he said as he held it up. “What are your allegiances to The Who?”

You snorted but reached for the shirt. “God, you’re old,” you teased. 

“Sorry it’s not Jay-Z.”

“Jay-Z’s old, too. I’m more of a Nas fan anyway.”

You both fell quiet and for a fleeting moment, you thought you caught his eyes roaming your toweled form.

“Right, well, I know that’s not exactly your style, but it’ll get you through the night. Tomorrow you can go shopping for clothes that fit,” he said. 

“I don’t mind the oversized part,” you mused. “It’s the old man aesthetic that bothers me.”

“Then maybe you can stop by the Baby Gap,” Robby teased. 

“Probably cooler clothes than what you wear,” you shot back. Robby chuckled and moved for the door. 

“You can change in here,” he said. “Your beer’s waiting for you on the counter when you’re done.”

The moment he closed the door behind himself, you seized the opportunity to examine his bedroom. A king-size bed was an interesting choice, you thought, as you couldn’t help but wonder how often Robby needed a bed that big. A TV was mounted to the wall opposite the bed above a dresser, which was cluttered with a watch, Robby’s wallet and a stack of books. You decided the room was clean and spacious, with dark, masculine tones. Once again, it was very Robby. You resisted the temptation to rummage through the nightstand and got dressed.

Robby’s gaze wasn’t lost on you as you returned to the living room. You prayed he wasn’t appalled by your make-up free face or your body, which was drowning beneath his baggy clothes.

Of course, Robby had seen enough of you to picture your body beneath the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. He’d seen you in everything from scrubs to professional dresses and jackets to jeans so tight they looked like they were painted on. Those were his favorite. But this was new. He loved seeing you in his clothes. In fact, he decided you’d never looked more alluring. 

As you turned toward the counter to fetch your beer, he shifted in his seat, his head swarming with filthy thoughts as he remembered you weren’t wearing any underwear beneath those loose pants.

You sat at the other end of the sofa, your legs tucked beneath yourself as you pretended to be positively enthralled by the Pirates game. Nevermind the score was 10-1 and they were losing.

“Terrible at-bat,” you muttered as you watched Tommy Pham strike out. “He couldn’t hit sand on a goddamn beach.”

Robby laughed and eyed you from the corner of his eye. Your hair was still wet, dripping damp spots across the t-shirt. You hadn’t noticed, but the white cotton was clinging to your skin in translucent patches. Just the right amount of light and he might be able to see the color of your— fuck, Robby thought as he scolded himself for thinking of you like that. You’d surely scold him for being such a pervy old man. He decided it would be a good time to excuse himself to the shower.

Once he was out of the room, you tilted your head back and closed your eyes. How the fuck were you going to survive this? It was agonizing enough to be wearing Robby’s clothes and sitting next to him, alone, but what if you had to do this for weeks? 

There was no way. You’d check into a hotel or find a friend to stay with. There was no way in hell you could do this for more than one night.

You rested your eyes and listened to the TV until you could feel your phone buzzing in the pocket of your sweatpants. Your group text with Samira, Cassie and Trinity was full of missed texts.

Cassie: Heard about your apartment! You good?

Samira: Do you need a place to crash? You can stay with Jack and me.

Trinity: Or you can stay with me if you want to steer clear of the lovebirds. I can make Whitaker sleep on the couch.

Samira: Rude.

Trinity: You aren’t dead, are you?

You sighed and tried to choose your words carefully. Not that it mattered. They were going to freak out regardless.

‘I’m okay!’ You wrote back. ‘I’m staying with Robby.’

The replies were instant.

Samira: ??????

Cassie: WHAT?

Trinity: DR. ROBBY?!

You: Yes. He came by to check on me.

Samira: What do you mean he came by? Came by where? 

Trinity: I bet it won’t be the first time tonight he’s going to c-

You dropped your phone as Robby reentered the room. It clattered to the floor with a thud and you scrambled to pick it up. Robby lifted an amused eyebrow at you and you became determined to deflect your embarrassment.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a dog,” you commented with a casual air. Robby tilted his head to look at you. 

“Why does that surprise you?” he asked as he lowered himself to the couch again. You averted your eyes when you realized he was wearing grey sweatpants. 

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “I guess I always figured you were a dog guy.”

“I love dogs,” Robby agreed. “But I’m also not home enough to take care of one.”

“Ah, that’s fair.”

“Pretty tough to keep a pet with this lifestyle. Or to keep much of anything.”

“Cheers to that,” you muttered as you raised your bottle. 

“Says the woman who just had the day off,” Robby teased.

“And whose apartment nearly burned down!”

“Ah yeah, I suppose that’s true.” You rolled your eyes at him and returned your attention to the TV. But you could feel him studying you. “You sure you’re okay?” he finally asked.

You nodded and tilted your head to meet his gaze to assure him. “I’m fine,” you said. “Not like there’s much I can do.”

“Well, if you need to talk…”

You smiled at him. It was an amusing spin of fate. Just a year ago, you’d been the one offering to talk to Robby when it became clear he wasn’t healing from the deaths of Dr. Adamson and Jake’s girlfriend. Then Dr. Collins moved to Arizona, leaving him with no one who could pull him from the dark place that was dragging him downward.

So you spent numerous nights on the roof of Pitt Trauma Medical Center with Robby. You didn’t want to pry or overstep your boundaries, to make him feel like you were trying to treat him like one of your patients. You merely offered him friendship that crafted a slow, budding trust that eventually eased Robby into opening up more to you. 

Some nights, you'd sit there in cheap lawn chairs and share takeout, bantering back and forth. Other times, he'd speak to you with a quiet vulnerability, detailing the demons that lingered in the dark corners of his head.

And when you decided he needed help from a professional he didn’t know personally, you recommended a colleague with a private practice. Robby began weekly therapy sessions — and he hadn’t missed one yet.  

Slowly, you watched the sadness vacate Robby’s eyes. It was replaced with the old familiar laughter you’d once adored. 

“I’m fine, really,” you finally insisted. “In the grand scheme of things, this is merely an inconvenience, right? At least the whole damn building didn’t burn down, and at least no one died.”

Robby nodded in agreement. “And at least you’re safe.”

“You didn’t have to come check on me, you know,” you said. You quelled the temptation to ask him why he did so in the first place. Though you were dying to hear an explanation, you didn’t need to make Robby uncomfortable in his own home.

“I know. But when I heard the EMTs mention the fire was at your building, I got worried,” he said.

It was an honest reason, and you weren’t sure why you felt surprised by it. Robby had always been one of the most honest men you’d known, almost to a fault at times. Perhaps you were merely surprised because, though you considered him a friend and colleague, you didn’t expect him to spend any time thinking about you outside of the workplace.

“Well, thank you for checking. And for this,” you said, gesturing around the room.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Robby said seriously, his eyes matching his tone. 

The room’s atmosphere was shifting. You could feel it in the way it pricked your skin, the way it hummed in your ear, a low buzz meant to distract you from all decorum. It was a devil on your shoulder, dangerous and desperate to make you do things that would surely sever your friendship and working relationship with Robby.

He sensed it, too. He clenched his jaw, fingers gripping his bottle of beer with far too much pressure in an effort to calm his nerves. The air felt like charged static; it crackled overhead, oppressive and full of energy.

What you craved felt forbidden. You weren’t sure why. You certainly wouldn’t be the first attending and former student to do this, nor would you be the first age-gap couple to grace the halls of Pitt Trauma. 

But this felt taboo because it was Robby. Everyone wondered if he’d ever settle down, find someone who didn’t fear his surly nature and obnoxious devotion to his job. Then you came around and the whispers shifted to you, the pretty intern-turned-doctor who clearly had chemistry with Robby. But neither of you dared to breach the boundary of professionalism. And you were convinced Robby was too mature, too jaded and too busy to bother with someone like you.

“I should probably get some sleep,” you finally said. Robby swallowed audibly, but you pretended not to notice.

“Of course,” he rasped. “Bed’s ready for you. There’s an extra blanket in the closet if you get too cold.”

You blinked at him in confusion. “Wait. No. No, no, no, I can’t. I won’t impose like that-”

“Nonsense,” Robby cut you off. 

“No, let me sleep on the couch.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But-”

“The answer is no. So either you take the bed, or we’re both sleeping on the couch.”

Your lips thinned as you searched your mind for words that could help you reason with him. You genuinely hadn’t expected to take over this man’s bed when he offered to let you stay with him. If anything, you wanted to share it with him.

“Robby, I can’t-”

“You can and you will,” Robby insisted. “Now off you go.”

You sighed and rose to your feet. You were afraid to look at him, fearful how you might react to his gaze. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Robby.”

“Goodnight.”

Your insistence on only staying with Robby for a night or two fell on deaf ears. He refused to take no for an answer, even when you swore you could afford a hotel. Meanwhile, your building manager said it would take weeks before you could move in again, due to concerns about structural integrity. So you became Robby’s unofficial roommate, much to the jubilation of your friends.

“How’s it going?” Dana asked one morning when you wandered into the ER for a psych eval. “You poison Robby’s dinner yet?”

“Things are great,” you chirped. Dana offered you a knowing smile.

“I’m sure they are,” she mewed. “But I’m sure he’s also driving you crazy.”

“What? Robby’s great!” you insisted. “He’s easy to live with. Clean, quiet… I’ve got no complaints.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dana said with a smirk as she sauntered off to check on a patient.

You were about to shout a rebuttal at her when a familiar voice found you.

“There’s my favorite shrink.”

“Good morning, Myrna,” you called over your shoulder, not bothering to look. “How are you today?”

“I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Oh?” You spun to face Myrna, curious what kind of out-of-pocket accusation she’d make this time.

“I heard a little rumor about you,” she said in her usual raspy tone. “I heard you’ve been shacking up with Dr. Robby.”

You sucked your top row of teeth. “Oh? And who told you that?”

“I was eavesdropping on the nurses,” Myrna answered simply. “They said you moved in with him weeks ago, you dirty girl.”

“Oh did they now?” You returned to the paperwork you needed to complete. The quicker you finished, the quicker you could get out of the ER.

“Spill it, sweetheart,” Myrna continued. “I’ve gotta know.”

“Know what?”

“About Dr. Robby! I’ll tell ya, I always thought he was a fruitcake. Didn’t know he had it in him to go after the young ones.”

“Myrna, I’m in my thirties,” you deadpanned.

“Makes you a youngin’ compared to me. Now tell me, sweetheart, what’s it like? How is he?”

“How is he?”

“In the sack!”

You closed your eyes, unsure if you should laugh or sprint toward the stairs. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Myrna?” You knew she didn’t. She never did.

“At least tell me the size we’re workin’ with here, doll,” Myrna pressed. “With that posture, I can tell he’s hung like a hor-”

“Goodbye, Myrna.”

Despite the incessant teasing from your colleagues, you and Robby quickly fell into a comfortable routine. You’d never been one to go out after work much, save for the occasional date or round of drinks with friends. But now, you found yourself wanting to go straight to Robby’s apartment as soon as your shift ended.

On the days where you both managed to get off work around the same time, you’d meet him outside the ER and walk home with him. Sometimes you’d join him and the rest of the ER day shift crew in the park for beers. 

Other nights, when he ended up working late, you’d head to his apartment and have dinner ready for the two of you. He never said it, but he looked forward to those evenings the most. It’d been ages since anyone cooked for him – and ages since he came home to any company. Some nights, you sat together and ate at the counter, but most nights, you sat in front of the TV with the Pirates game on. You chatted about your days, joked about your colleagues and merely appreciated each other’s presence.

You also realized that Robby noticed the little things. When he gave you his spare key, you expressed concern you’d lose it, so he rummaged through his junk drawer until he found an old keychain from Southern Tier Brewery to help you keep track of it. The next day, you noticed he cleared space on the hook next to his by the door, where you could hang your keys and purse.

He also noticed that, like him, you enjoyed reading. One evening you emerged from a shower and found him reading on the couch, his glasses on and an open beer on the coffee table. The two of you slipped into a discussion of your reading lists and favorite writers. The next morning, you found two books from your list waiting for you on the counter, plucked from Robby’s collection.

But your favorite simple gesture was the matcha. Robby noticed you didn’t drink coffee in the mornings. Instead, you’d stop at a shop on your way to the hospital for a matcha latte. Robby teased you, said you were blowing money on “grass water,” but two days later, you discovered a tin of matcha in the cupboard.

It was simple but comforting. You’d never admit it to anyone, but you didn’t want your time there to end.

Still, you and Robby remained at arm’s length inside his apartment. You never stood too close, always sat at opposite ends of the sofa and never discussed topics that were too personal. Until the night you went out with Santos and Whitaker.

You and Trinity dragged Dennis to a karaoke bar one Thursday night after he revealed he’d never been to one. Several rounds of drinks and a group performance of Espresso later, you found yourself swaying on your barstool.

“You good?” Trinity asked, smirking at you in amusement.

“I’m fine,” you sighed wistfully, the latest round of tequila shots taking command of your composure. It was becoming painfully clear you couldn’t keep up with the 20-somethings anymore. “But I kinda wanna go home.”

“Home?” Trinity mused. “As in, to your condemned apartment, or to Dr. Robby?”

“Robby’s apartment is really nice,” you babbled. “I love the exposed brick. And he somehow manages to keep it so clean. And he buys the good ice cream, not the shitty generic brands.”

Trinity snorted. “That all you like about Dr. Robby’s place?”

“No,” you said dreamily, clearly too drunk to notice your whimsy state. “I like hanging out with him.”

“Yet neither of you has made a move yet,” Trinity noted.

“Oh, please,” you laughed. “That’s never going to happen. Robby is way too mature to be interested in me.”

“Dr. Robby is a single, straight man,” Trinity said. “Trust me, he isn’t worried about your age gap. It’s not that bad anyway. No one has a problem with Mohan and Abbot.”

“But this is Robby we’re talking about,” you insisted. “He’d never be interested in me.”

“You’re joking, right?” Trinity groaned. “Please don’t tell me you really think he’s out of your league or some self-esteem bullshit. You are way too hot to be talking like that.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed. “I just… he just…”

“You like him way too much,” Dennis cut in. “You like him so much, you’ve built him up in your head and now you think he’s unattainable.” You and Trinity both blinked at Dennis. “What?” he asked with a shrug. “I observe things.”

Trinity laughed. “Who knew Huckleberry was so perceptive.”

You walked back to Robby’s apartment well past midnight, and much later than you’d planned to be out. You treaded quietly when you approached the door, assuming he’d already be asleep on the couch. 

When you entered, the lights inside the apartment were still on and the TV was airing an old rerun of Bar Rescue. Robby was seated on the couch, an open pizza box on the coffee table. He clearly had nodded off.

Your plan had been to tiptoe to the bedroom without waking him. But your inebriated brain couldn’t quite compute the proper distance between your body and the furniture, meaning you bumped clumsily into the back of the sofa.

“Fuck!” you hissed at the sharp pain that surged within your hip, and at the sight of Robby stirring. He blinked a few times before his gaze found you. “Hey,” you giggled. “Did I wake you? Sorry.”

“S’alright,” he mumbled. The sleepy look in his eyes made you want to climb him like a tree.

“Didn’t mean to get in so late,” you continued. “But Whitaker was really into it. Guy’s a big Kesha fan.”

“Who?”

“Nevermind.”

You eyed the pizza sitting on the table and the tightening in your stomach reminded you it had been hours since dinner. 

You should have walked away, taken yourself straight to bed. Solitude inside the sanctity of Robby’s bedroom would have been the safe choice, where you couldn’t get yourself into any trouble.

Instead, you sank into your side of the sofa and reached for a slice of pizza.

“So, was it just you, Whittaker and Santos?” Robby asked. You nodded as you chewed.

“Mohan was supposed to come, but bailed. I saw Abbot had the night off so I suspect he spent it on her,” you said.

“Thank you for that visual,” Robby muttered. 

“Don’t be a hater,” you giggled. The laughter made your head spin. The room tilted and you decided it’d be in your best interest to be horizontal. You let yourself flop over until you were flat on your back, your head in Robby’s lap.

His spine straightened immediately.

“I think Samira and Abbot are great together,” you babbled on. “And he’s absolutely obsessed with her. Not in a creepy stalker way, but he clearly adores her.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Weird? Why is it weird? Two people with undeniable chemistry falling in love? Do you think it’s weird?” You stared upward at Robby curiously, your pulse spiking in anticipation.

“No, I don’t think it’s weird at all,” Robby responded. “I think they’re great together. I just wasn’t sure how you felt about your friend dating an old guy.”

“Aren’t you older than him?” you laughed. 

“By one measly year,” Robby noted. 

“Why do people get so hung up on age?” you rambled on. “It’s not like she’s a teenager. It’s not like he’s Leo DiCaprio. If two consenting adults want to be in a relationship, they deserve support, not judgment.”

“Hey, I’m with you,” Robby agreed. “I’ve just never heard you talk about Mohan and Abbot. Wasn’t sure how you felt about them.”

“I think they’re lovely together. And I think most of us could only be so lucky to find that kind of connection.”

The silence that settled between you rang in your ears, a screaming signal that you should say something, or better yet, take your ass to bed. But instead, you merely blinked up at Robby, who peered down at you with a soft smile. 

“You’re right,” he said. “They seem to make each other very happy.”

“Exactly. That’s all that matters.”

The warmth in Robby’s eyes made your pulse race. Maybe it was the curiosity in them, or maybe it was the alcohol surging through your bloodstream, but you were finding it hard to swallow the words that threatened to spill from your lips.

“What about you?” you finally asked, the liquid courage taking command. “When are you going to settle down?”

Robby laughed, but you noticed his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll ever do that,” he said.

“Why not?” you asked innocently. “Marriage and kids not your thing?”

“I didn’t say that,” Robby replied. “I just haven’t had the best luck. Most people don’t understand what this job entails. It’s hard to convince anyone to stick around for very long.”

You nodded in understanding. “It is hard,” you admitted. “It’s a commitment and a sacrifice that rarely returns any favors.”

“See, you get it,” Robby said. 

You couldn’t help but pout at him, the alcohol tempting your thoughts with more truths. 

“But do you want to find that?” you pressed. “You know, your person?”

Robby shifted slightly, causing your head to bobble in his lap. If he felt it, he did a hell of a job of hiding it. 

“Of course, I do,” he answered simply. “But I’m not holding my breath. I spent a lot of years pushing people away when they got too close. My opportunities may have run their course.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said with far too much honesty. “I mean, of course you will. You’re too…”

Robby rose an eyebrow at you, urging you to continue. “Yes? Too what?”

Your eyes bailed, shifting toward the wall in a cowardly attempt to appear nonchalant. But your tongue continued to betray you.

“You’re too… everything,” you blurted out. “Too handsome, too brilliant, too good of a person. You’re far too good of a catch to miss out on your person.”

A flush crept across your face as you spoke, drawing another smile from Robby. 

“Handsome and brilliant?” he mused. “You should go out drinking more often.”

You scowled at him in faux annoyance and he laughed fondly at the way your face scrunched. 

“Watch yourself, old man,” you threatened. “I know where you sleep at night.”

“Says the lady who’s taken over my bed.”

“You offered me that bed.”

“And you’d better stop calling me old man unless you want me to take it back.”

You managed to swallow your thoughts before they could take on the form of words that would surely embarrass you. You wanted nothing more than for him to take his bed back, as long as you were still in it.

Instead, you continued to pout at him.

“Would you really put an innocent person out on the street?”

“No, I’d send you to go live with Mohan and Abbot.”

“That’s even worse.”

“I know.”

You shared a laugh that made your body bloom with more warmth. It sprawled over your skin, from the pit of your stomach outward to your toes and fingertips.

“And what about you?” Robby suddenly asked, his eyes studying your expression with far too much focus for your comfort. “Do you plan on finding your person?”

“Of course,” you offered with a bit too much gusto. “But it’s hard to weed out all the douchebags in bars and impatient idiots who don’t respect my career. Like you said, few people really get it.”

“Can I ask you something?” Robby blurted out. You tried not to tense, in case he could feel it. That question always had a way of unsettling you. “Why’d you date Shen?”

You shrugged in amusement, a drunken giggle threatening to surface. “I don’t know, honestly,” you answered. “He really isn’t a bad guy. He just needs to grow up a little. I’d like more conversation and less video games.” 

“Sounds about right,” Robby muttered. 

The silence that followed was more comfortable this time. You let your eyes fall shut, the sleepy stage of your drunken night out taking over. When you finally cracked them open again, Robby was staring at you. Though you felt like you might vomit your heart up, you lifted your head from his lap to sit back on your elbows. You were no longer in physical contact, but your face was much closer to his. 

“Sleepy?” he asked as he held your gaze. You were certain you were going to drown in his irises. 

“Very,” you breathed. The air inside the apartment seemed to hitch, as if the walls pulsed with a heartbeat of their own. They were waiting with bated breath for something, anything to happen. 

Instead, you smiled softly at Robby and sat all the way up, your hair falling in tangled tresses down your back. You rose to your feet and paced toward the hallway, stopping to linger in the archway as you turned to look back at Robby.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You crawled into bed and wondered how close you had just come to discovering the side of Robby you’d only envisioned in solitude. He went to sleep wondering why he stopped himself.

Three weeks became four and you began to wonder just how long you could get away with being Robby’s roommate. As much as you cherished all of the alone time you had with him, you felt guilty. The poor man had begun complaining of back pain, and though he’d never admit it, you knew it was from sleeping on the couch.

Finally, you received a call from your building manager informing you your building would reopen in a week. Your relief clashed with your disappointment.

Meanwhile, Robby found himself clashing with Gloria, per usual.

She cornered him in the ER one morning to remind him he hadn’t returned his RSVP for the hospital charity dinner. Robby swore under his breath.

“It’s non-negotiable,” Gloria warned. “You’re the head of this department and all department heads are expected to attend. The only reason I came down here to remind you to RSVP was so that we can add your plus-one to the list.”

“My plus-one,” Robby deadpanned.

“Yes, as in your date,” Gloria replied as if it were obvious. “Ask a date, rent a tux and don’t forget to return the RSVP.”

Robby muttered a string of curses as Gloria left.

When he returned home after his shift, he found you chopping bell peppers in the kitchen, wearing earbuds that were undoubtedly playing 90s music given the way you danced around.

He couldn’t help himself. He paused in the doorframe and watched, smiling softly to himself. It had become impossible to ignore the surge in serotonin he felt whenever he was in your presence. And this – this was too perfect; you, dressed in a skimpy pair of track shorts, your hair pulled back into a high ponytail as you hummed to the Spice Girls. It was a masterpiece mounted on canvas in Robby’s mind.

He watched as you began to chop another pepper and approached you with caution, reaching to remove your left earbud as he loomed behind you.

“Hey.”

You flinched and nearly dropped the knife. “Asshole!” you hissed, though the laughter in your voice negated your anger. “You can’t sneak up on people like that. I have a knife, for fuck’s sake.”

“Sorry,” Robby chuckled. “Didn’t consider the fact you might be capable of murder. What are you making?”

“Fajitas,” you said happily as you removed your other earbud. “We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

“My building manager called. He says I can move back into my apartment in a week.”

“Oh.” Robby forced a smile and silently prayed it was convincing. “That’s great.”

“He said there was no significant damage to my unit, but they still need to treat the entire floor for smoke damage,” you continued casually, searching his eyes for something, anything that indicated disappointment. You thought you caught a glitch in his stare, but convinced yourself you were merely seeing what you wanted.

“Great,” Robby said, turning to fetch a beer from the fridge. “I’m glad they’ve got it all straightened out.”

“Me too.”

You weren’t sure what you were even hoping for. For him to beg you not to go, to please stay forever? That was ridiculous and unhinged and you knew it. But the disappointment sat heavy within your stomach, so much so, you no longer wanted any fajitas.

You both picked at your dinner in excruciating silence, your legs dangling nervously from your barstool at the counter. Robby could sense your shift in mood. It mirrored his own. 

He decided the past few weeks had been too good to give up on. You’d be moving back home, so he might as well find a way to craft another memory with you.

“Hey, are you going to the hospital charity dinner gala bullshit on Saturday?” he finally asked.

“Oh that,” you said with a fake laugh. “No, I’m not going. Dr. Meadows in neurology brought it up, but I told him I couldn’t make it.”

“Meadows asked you out?”

You nearly jumped in your seat at the sharpness in Robby’s tone. You blinked up at him, taken aback. 

“Yeah,” you answered slowly. “But I told him no. I figured I’ve got too much going on with my apartment and whatnot.”

“Oh.”

“...Are you going?”

“Don’t have a choice,” Robby sighed. “Gloria says it’s non-negotiable.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Maybe that’s just her way of getting you in a tux. Rumor has it she’s on the hunt for a new man now that her divorce has been finalized.”

“Can’t imagine why she of all people would be divorced,” Robby muttered. You snorted.

“I’m sure the dinner will be… nice,” you offered.

“Nice,” Robby deadpanned. “Nice and miserable.”

“Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad. You get to fill up on shrimp cocktail, schmooze the donors and pretend like people give a shit about supporting the American health care system.”

“Easy for you to say, you aren’t required to be there.”

“Eat some shrimp in my honor.”

“Actually, I was thinking,” Robby started. Your mouth became cotton as you waited with your breath held. “Maybe you could come with me. Then you could eat all the shrimp you want.”

You pleaded with yourself to stop from fucking this up – even if he was only asking out of what you assumed was convenience. You knew Robby. He’d likely hoped he could get out of attending the dinner and failed to ask anyone to be his date. Now, you were his only viable option.

But you liked spending time with Robby. And if you were going to be moving back home soon, you wanted to take advantage of whatever time you could get. Even if it would inevitably worsen your feelings for him.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you noted. “All of my clothes probably reek of smoke.”

“So then we’ll go shopping.” 

You quirked an eyebrow at Robby. “What are you, my sugar daddy?” you couldn’t help but joke.

“I thought you said you’d knock it off with the old man jokes.”

“Never.” He was waiting, watching you intently for an answer. Even if you hadn’t wanted to go, you wouldn’t have said no. “Alright fine,” you finally said, not that you needed convincing. “I’ll go. But I can buy my own damn dress. And I get to make double the old man jokes.”

Two evenings later, you dragged Samira and Trinity to the mall after your shifts. Normally, Trinity would have needed to be tranquilized or bribed to go dress shopping, but given the circumstances, she was elated, and you were grateful for style advice from your younger friends. 

“I still can’t believe you’re going on a date with Dr. Robby,” Trinity teased as the three of you combed through racks of formal gowns.

“It’s not a date,” you insisted. “I’m going as his date. There’s a difference.”

“You’re full of shit. It’s a date.”

“No, it’s a convenient agreement between two friends,” you said tactfully. 

“A what?” Trinity snorted.

“He forgot to ask a date and I was around and available, so he asked me,” you said simply as you eyed a blue gown.

“Please don’t tell me you think that low of yourself,” Samira said. “We all know Dr. Robby wanted to ask you to begin with. He was just too much of a coward to do so and got lucky that you happen to be living with him, which gave him the perfect excuse.”

“Not for much longer. I can move back into my apartment in a few days,” you noted.

“Well then, sounds like you and Dr. Robby had better seal the deal soon,” Trinity said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and disappeared into the fitting rooms.

By the time Saturday night arrived, you were certain you’d be better off flinging yourself from the roof of Pitt Trauma. You began to wonder if you were making a mistake, if you were setting yourself up for a disastrous freefall. But as you applied a coat of mascara and checked yourself in the bathroom mirror for the millionth time, it became painfully clear that you’d already tumbled too far deep into the point of no return. 

Robby was standing in the kitchen when you emerged from the bathroom. When you appeared, your heart jumped into your throat as you watched him do a double-take. His eyes scanned you with excruciating intensity, though his expression remained stoic.

“Wow,” he blurted out. “You look… Wow.”

You stifled the urge to squeal. Instead, you eyed him back. His tux fit him surprisingly well and you made a mental note to ask him why he had such a nice suit tucked away in his closet later. 

Though you felt incredibly confident and sexy in the dress you’d picked out, you wanted nothing more than for Robby to rip it off.

You failed to notice the way he dragged a palm across his face in agonizing lust when you turned to fetch your clutch, presenting him with another view of your very backless dress.

“You look wow, too,” you said simply when you turned around again. “Langdon insisted you don’t own a suit. Guess I should’ve bet him on it.”

By the time you arrived at the dinner, which was taking place at the Rivers Casino Event Center, you were certain you were going to pass out from nerves.

The walk into the ballroom was more daunting than your med school graduation, your first day of residency and your senior prom combined. The realization seemed to creep over the room like a slow surf, breaking and sprawling until it felt like all voices had fallen to a hush and all eyes were on you.

Neither of you spoke but as you swapped a glance, it was clear you and Robby were thinking the same thing: the rumor mill was about to spin at full force. But despite the inevitable gossip, you couldn’t help but swell with pride to be Michael Robinavitch’s date. Standing next to you, he was even prouder.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting from an evening as Robby’s date. You assumed you’d spend much of it on your own, chatting with random colleagues while Robby engaged in performative pleasantries next to Gloria. 

But he was astonishingly attentive to you. He fetched you flutes of champagne from the bar. He included you in every conversation, even the ones with the hospital big-wigs who would surely forget your name the minute they stepped away. He even held your clutch so your hands would be free to eat hors d'oeuvres. And every once in a while, you could feel his hand gently find the small of your back as he spoke, leaving traces of unbearable heat from his fingertips. 

The only time he wasn’t at your side was when you excused yourself to the restroom. While you were gone, Robby waited patiently at the bar.

“You lucky bastard,” Frank mused as he leaned against the bar next to him, a sly smirk across his features. 

“Gonna have to be more specific than that, Langdon,” Robby sighed.

“Oh, come on man,” Frank said. “You brought her? It was about time. But Jesus Christ, you’re making the rest of us look bad.”

“I know you aren’t objectifying my date, are you, Dr. Langon?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m certain I don’t.”

Frank shook his head and clapped Robby on the back. “Whatever you say, man,” he said as he walked away. “But we’re all happy for you.”

You could tell Robby was ready to leave by 10 p.m. He stopped trying to mask his annoyance with Gloria, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation each time she dragged him into conversation with another person of importance.

When he finally managed to slip away from her, you offered him a sympathetic smile.

“Want me to fake a seizure or something?” you offered as you stood in front of the room’s large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Ohio River. The reflections across the water’s surface seemed to dance and shimmer with the music playing behind you.

“You’re in a room full of doctors. They’d catch on in a heartbeat.”

“Want me to pull a fire alarm?”

“Pretty sure that’s a misdemeanor.”

“Wouldn’t be my first.” You cackled with laughter as Robby turned to look at you in bewilderment. “In all seriousness, if you need an excuse to leave, I’ll help you create one.”

“No,” Robby sighed. “I’m fine. Shouldn’t be too much longer before Gloria’s had enough wine to make her forget I’m here. By the way, I apologize for her calling you my girlfriend when she introduces you to people.”

“I’ve been called worse.” Robby couldn’t suppress a smile. “But you still haven’t asked me to dance,” you continued. 

“Yes, because I value your physical well-being,” Robby answered. “Trust me, you don’t want to dance with me.”  

“You’re no fun.”

“I’ll make it up to you later.” The words spilled before Robby could think to stop them. You tried to conceal your reaction, your eyes threatening to widen and lips tugging toward a nervous smile. Your brain began to short-circuit as you scrambled for a smart reply.

“Thought you couldn’t make it.” 

Oh, fuck. You recognized the voice of Dr. Cooper Meadows behind you. 

“Cooper,” you said warily as you turned to face him with a nervous smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s a surprise to see you,” Cooper said dryly. “Thought you said you were busy tonight.”

“Well, I kind of am, right?”

“Right.” His eyes flickered toward Robby. “I guess we have different definitions of busy.” 

“Look, Cooper, I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I genuinely wasn’t planning on coming tonight, but-”

“But what?”

But Robby needed a favor. That’s what you were going to say. That was the honest, surface-level truth. But the deeper truth was you wouldn’t have come with anyone else.

“But I twisted her arm until she agreed to come with me,” Robby cut in. 

“Figures,” Cooper muttered. “Another senior attending throwing his weight and authority around to chase younger tail. Thought you were better than that, Robinavitch.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” you cut in. “What the fuck, Cooper? Robby’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Bullshit. You know, I am so sick of the higher-ups at this hospital walking around like they’re gods,” Cooper continued, narrowing his eyes at Robby. Robby blinked at him and Cooper’s glare shifted back to you. “But how very stereotypical of you. The psych who needs to fix the miserable old senior attending just because he crashed out during an MCI last year.”

Robby opened his mouth to reply, but you were quicker. “Fuck you, Cooper,” you snapped. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. I’m here because I want to be. I turned your miserable ass down because I was waiting for Robby to ask me. Just because your brain is too tiny to fathom the fact that someone is interested in someone other than you doesn’t mean you get to throw strays. Now fuck off so I can get back to my date.”

Cooper’s lip curled. He was clearly debating whether to keep pressing you, but finally rolled his eyes and stalked off. You swallowed in an attempt to ground yourself, too pissed and too embarrassed to look at Robby yet.

But he was looking at you intently. “Well, I think this night’s just about done,” he said. You thought you could detect a hint of amusement in his tone, but chose not to acknowledge it.

“Sorry,” you sighed, your eyes still refusing to meet his, mortified over your admission. “I forgot he’d be here. Though I didn’t think he’d be that much of an asshole.”

“He’s in neurology,” Robby mused. “Of course he’s an asshole.”

“I’d hate to hear what you say about psych.”

“Perhaps another time. You know, when you don’t look like you’re contemplating murder charges.”

“Can’t charge me if they can’t find the body.”

Robby chuckled and you felt his hand graze the small of your back again. You fought the instinct to tense. You didn’t want to tense. You wanted to melt to the floor so that Robby would scoop you up and carry you home. 

“Are you ready to get out of here?” he asked. You nodded, your eyes registering one final glance out the window. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Best leave before causing any more scenes.”

“At least we got some entertainment,” Robby offered. His hand was still on your back. Why was his hand still on your back? Nervous tension simmered through your body, rising into your skull until you could practically feel it pulsing in your hair.

Langdon caught Robby’s eye and raised a very suggestive eyebrow as the two of you headed for the door. Robby, still guiding you with his hand on your back, shot Frank a sharp look before he snuck a glance at you to ensure you hadn’t seen.

Instead, you were staring determinedly straight ahead, fearful your knees would give out. 

Something was happening. Something had changed, a shift in the current between you and Robby. Its usual push and pull, the back and forth that had always kept you hopeful yet hesitant, now felt smoother; a free flow of high-charged anticipation. It made your insides twist and your palms sweat, a clash of uncertainty and excitement. 

But what if it was all in your head? What if your delusions were crafting a foundation built on frail glass? Or what if the two of you were one act of bravery away from getting exactly what you wanted?

By the time you were climbing into the front seat of Robby’s SUV, you were gnawing at your fingernails. Robby, of course, noticed from the driver’s seat but said nothing.

“You enjoy yourself tonight?” he finally asked. Streetlights whizzed past your window and you tore your gaze from them to study him as you spoke.

“I did,” you said assuringly. “I ate more shrimp and shook more hands than I can count.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot of socializing,” Robby sighed. “Worst part of the job.”

“Gloria seemed pleased with you.”

“Gloria is never pleased with me.”

“Really? I would have thought a night of ass-kissing would do the trick.”

“You’d be surprised.”

A silence fell over the car as street signs swished past, but your mind raced faster. Were you and Robby really toeing a boundary, on the brink of leaping into something new and uncharted? Or were you merely making things up in your mind? Either way, the more you studied Robby from the corner of your eye, the clearer it was that you were already tripping over the unspoken line. 

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” Robby said quietly. You flashed him the prettiest smile you could manage, even if his eyes were on the road. 

“I appreciate the invite,” you said. “Even if it was only to please Gloria.”

“Can we please stop talking about pleasing Gloria? It sounds… wrong.”

“Fair enough,” you laughed.

“I didn’t ask you because I needed a date,” Robby pointed out. “You know that, right?”

“Oh.”

“I’ve gone to those damn fundraising events solo countless times. I asked you because I wanted you to be my date.”

“Oh.”

Robby cast an uneasy glance your way. The whoosh of a passing car roared in your ears, though it may have been blood rushing to your head. The air conditioning inside the car was on, but you felt flushed and flustered as you willed yourself to respond with poise – something, anything to give yourself a fighting chance.

Instead, you shifted in your seat. Robby’s eyes darted toward you, then downward for a fleeting moment at your exposed thigh in the high slit of your dress. You watched him flex his hand around the steering wheel. 

Your quick, shallow breaths stretched into torturous seconds of silence. You had a choice, you decided, and you wanted to choose Robby.

“Well, I’m glad you asked,” you said carefully, steady enough to convince Robby of your sincerity. “I didn’t want anyone else to ask me anyway.”

“Oh.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his response. “Yeah,” you continued. “The feeling was mutual… or is mutual.”

“Oh.”

You held your breath as you waited for his next move; a chess match between two people who had no desire to play in the first place. Neither of you wanted to continue your dance around the glaringly obvious. You didn’t want to play games. You were tired, needy and looked too damn good to waste your time on any more uncertainty.

“Well, I’m glad it worked out for us both then,” Robby finally continued. You both snuck a glance at the same time, your eyes meeting for a flash. It spiked your pulse and made your pupils dilate.

And finally, Robby’s hand slowly reached for the top of your thigh. The motion was smooth, as if his hand was always meant to be there. It was a dizzying juxtaposition – Robby’s large and rough, calloused hand against your smooth, soft flesh. Your knee stilled, as if moving it in the slightest would force his hand away. You wanted it to remain there forever.

Both of your eyes remained glued to the road straight ahead. Oasis played quietly from the radio.

The walk from the parking garage to the elevator inside Robby’s apartment building seemed to extend from mere feet to miles. When the elevator doors snapped shut, you held your breath again, eyes still fixated forward as Robby stood behind you. In the doors’ reflection, you could see his eyes clinging to your form.

The dip in the back of your dress, the pieces of hair that had fallen loose from your updo, the scent of neroli and jasmine from your perfume; it was all pulling Robby to a vexing place where he was torn between his desire to stop resisting you and the vulnerability required to do so.

The clack of your heels echoed through the hallway towards Robby’s apartment door, a steady tick-tock that counted you both down to the moment of truth. When you reached the door, eyes clouded with desperation, you shared one final glance. Robby’s eyes darkened with hunger. 

He wanted to be gentle, wanted to be careful and sweet. But all of his suppressed cravings breached their dam, spilling from their confines in the form of primal dominance.

The sharp click of the lock felt symbolic – unlatching years of what-ifs. Robby entered the apartment first, tossing his keys on the counter before he whirled around. Before the door could fall shut, he had you pinned against it. It latched when it met the force of your back, concealing the two of you from the outside world with a quick thud.

Robby held your face in his hands as he kissed you. It knocked the breath you’d been holding for weeks from your lungs in the form of a pitiful whimper. The kiss was deep but sensual, fervid but sophisticated, giving yet demanding. It continued until you were gasping into his mouth, desperate for air and desperate more. When he finally pulled away, his hands lingered, still cupping your face as he studied the reaction in your wide eyes. You stared back, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. 

You didn’t blink. You didn’t move. You refused to do anything that could be misinterpreted as anything but your desire to stand right there in that moment.

Robby kissed you again. This time, your hands snaked over his arms until you were sliding his suit jacket off. You only removed your lips from his to shift your focus to his tie. Once you loosened the knot, he pulled you toward himself this time, one hand pressed flat into the small of your back as he kissed you.

He dared to step forward, pressing his body against yours until he had you backed against the edge of the counter. Your fingers worked over the buttons of his shirt until you could skim your palms over his chest. You could feel it rising and falling beneath them as Robby’s breathing became more ragged.

Once his shirt was off, he raised an eyebrow at you. 

“How come I’m the only one getting undressed?” he murmured. You offered him a pointed blink.

“I don’t see anyone stopping you from helping me out of this dress,” you replied matter-of-factly. Robby couldn’t argue with that. 

You expected him to make a hasty move for your dress, but instead he hooked an arm around your waist to pull you in for another kiss. This one was slow and deliberate. Your teeth grazed gently against his bottom lip, desperate to pull more from him. Your arms clung to his neck until you were damn hear hanging from him, thankful for his sturdy frame.

You could feel his hand glide from your hip to the slit of your dress, his fingertips caressing over your thigh. His lips found your neck, first pressing a tender kiss there until he dragged his lips toward your collar bone. A low moan hummed in your throat. His touches were tender and deliberate. The ache between your thighs burned to your core.

Robby’s hand disappeared inside the slit of your dress and your breath hitched as he finally swiped a finger against the fabric of your thong, relieving some of the agonizing tension. The slickness pooling at your entrance was a dizzying paradox to the heat that scalded your nerve endings. Robby inched two fingers inside your panties and groaned at the sensation of your arousal clinging to them. And before you could beg him to continue, his index and middle fingers skimmed your folds. They met your clit and pressed until a whimper escaped your throat.

Robby leaned with one hand on the edge of the counter, the other dragging against your sacred flesh until your knees threatened to give out. Your head tipped back, your eyes squeezed shut as you silently thanked every higher power you didn’t believe in for granting you the privilege of crossing paths with Michael Robinavitch.

His lips found your neck again, ghosting hot breath against your skin that sent goosebumps peppering across the surface. 

You inhaled sharply as Robby sank a slow finger inside you until you could feel the heel of his palm pressed against your clit. It quickly became clear that Robby knew what he was doing – not that you had expected anything less.

The obscene sound of his rhythmic hand pulling you toward the edge echoed around you, your labored breaths its only rival. You whimpered over the mounting pressure within your walls, tightening them until Robby groaned again. 

“Robby,” you panted with a desperate plea. He curled his fingers and you choked out a moan. The coil inside you tightened as Robby’s hand hastened its pace, his fingers pulling against your front wall until they dabbed your sweet spot. Your fingers clutched at his bicep, nails pricking at his skin as your body tensed. 

Your hips jutted forward and a pitchy whine rose in your throat until the coil inside you finally snapped, sending your climax pulsing through your core. Your hips rolled as you rode it out around Robby’s fingers, your clit grinding against his palm until your high subsided, leaving you slumped against him.

You didn’t speak – hell, you couldn’t – but Robby eyed you in quiet satisfaction, grunting in arousal as he removed his fingers from your soaked cunt. Your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath, head still cloudy in its post-orgasm haze.

Finally, you felt Robby’s arm squeeze around your torso as he lifted you up, your feet dangling in the air as he supported you on his shoulder.

“You know, I’m perfectly capable of walking,” you noted from over his shoulder.

“Really? Because I seem to recall you nearly falling in those heels no less than five times tonight,” Robby replied.

“I thought you wouldn’t notice.”

You could feel Robby’s body shake as he chuckled. He carried you toward the bedroom and you became certain he could feel your heartbeat rattling within your ribcage. When he set you on your feet again, he studied you with pensive eyes, as if he were waiting for you to change your mind. 

You shimmied your arms from the straps of your dress, revealing your bare chest. Robby stilled.

“Jesus,” he hissed. “You are… so fucking beautiful.”

Words were failing you so you licked your lips in anticipation. Robby lifted a slow hand to guide your dress downward until it pooled in a heap at your feet. You stepped out of it and kicked your heels off, widening your height difference. You tilted your head backward to peer up at Robby, urging him to act. 

He leaned into you for a long kiss, his hand roaming from your waist until it was cupping your breast. His thumb brushed over your nipple and you could feel his erection pressing against your stomach, triggering your impatience. You fiddled with his belt until it clinked apart. 

Once you managed to shove Robby’s remaining clothing to the floor, he stepped from his shoes and you chewed at your bottom lip. It’d been weeks since you had sex, since before you moved in with Robby. And it’d been ages since you had sex with someone that big. You swallowed a laugh as you realized Myrna was right.

The groan Robby released when your hand curled around his cock sounded like it had been stifled for weeks. Of course, that had been exactly the case.

“Fuck,” he rasped as you stroked him, his jaw clenching at your touch. You could practically feel his cock twitching in your hand. 

Your patience waned until you were practically dragging Robby toward the bed. He tugged your thong down and kissed you hard, his hand tangling itself in your hair while the backs of your knees met the bed frame.

Robby eased you onto your back, his knee between your thighs as he planted a trail of kisses from your neck, across your collar bone and to the swell of your breasts. The ache returned between your thighs.

You held your breath as his kisses drifted downward past your navel to your hip bone, then across the tops of your thighs. You could feel them tensing, squeezing together in an attempt to relieve the throbbing between them.

Robby smirked against your skin. His hands gently parted your thighs and you sucked in a sharp breath when you felt his tongue find your clit. Your hips grinded upward, desperate for more until you were fisting his hair. It spurred Robby on, leaving his arms hooked around your thighs. The sight of your soaked entrance ignited an invigorating surge of avidity in him. He’d fling himself from the roof of Pitt Trauma before he allowed anyone to deny him a taste.

His tongue flattened against your clit, pressing and prodding until your legs were shaking. Your eyes fluttered shut and Robby hummed against you in approval of your taste.

“Jesus Christ, Robby,” you breathed, unsure if you could withstand the sensitivity. But the way your hips were jutting upward, pressing your entrance against his tongue, told him you wanted more.

He drove his tongue harder against your clit, forcing it in swift, short swipes until your feet were kicking from the pleasure swelling inside your nerve endings. You ground yourself against his tongue in slow, sweeping motions, desperate for more friction. 

Robby received the hint. He sucked on your clit, lips pulling it against his rigid tongue. It was a tactical assault of unwavering pressure. Your cries chorused higher until you issued a rapid succession of whimpers, one after another, as you climbed toward your climax. 

Robby applied more force and held his tongue in place until your body seized, your nails sinking into the back of Robby’s neck as heat sprawled across your cunt, its ripples triggering a blissful shriek from you. It left you boneless, your head void of all coherent thought.

But Robby’s desperation peaked. He crawled on top of you, his eyes dancing with a raw greed you’d never seen before. He leaned down to kiss you, his lips slow and assuring as if the two of you were exchanging an agreement to stop withholding from one another.

Robby’s eyes locked on yours when he pulled away to position himself between your legs. Your heart hammered as he held your gaze and lined the tip of his cock against your entrance. The air in your lungs screamed for relief as you held your breath, your fingers pressing into the mattress in anticipation.

He sank into you slowly, groaning at the squeeze of your tight heat. Your teeth chewed at your bottom lip as you willed your walls to stretch around him. The friction was dizzying as he filled you. Robby clenched his jaw so hard, his teeth threatened to crack. 

Once he’d reached the hilt, a clarity settled within your skull and your senses became hypersensitive to every movement, every breath and every agonizing second that Robby wasn’t driving you into the mattress.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Robby rasped. His voice was strained, as if he was in pain. In truth, he was merely fighting his final threads of self-restraint.

Robby was torn. The sight of your folds swallowing his cock was beyond anything he’d imagined, a vision he wanted burned into his mind forever. But he also felt a desperate longing to be close to you. He wanted to shower your face and lips with kisses while he whispered passionate prose in your ear.

“Robby, please,” you begged. As arousing as the power was to Robby – the pitiful whine of your voice, the plea in your eyes, the way your body twitched in response to his cock – he didn’t make you beg again.

Robby’s hips retreated and snapped forward, driving his cock within your plush walls. You issued a low, guttural moan in response. Robby’s hands reached for your hips, pulling you into him in contrast to his thrusts. Together, your bodies composed a symphony that was approaching a grand coda.

“You feel so fucking good,” Robby groaned. You bucked your hips in response, his praise heightening your arousal and your desperation to learn how it would feel to fall apart around his cock.

You squirmed beneath him, each panting breath signaling your impending orgasm. You squeezed your cunt tighter around him and your eyes clamped shut as you focused on the friction within your core. Robby shifted until he was directly above you, supporting himself with one arm as his shaft dragged through your walls and his tip pressed into the deepest part of you. The bedsheets clung to their corners for dear life. 

Your nails sank into Robby’s shoulder, leaving tiny half-moon divots. If he felt them, he said nothing. Instead, he grit his teeth at your slick passage, his cock nudging you closer to the edge with each snap of his hips until you were certain the force would drive your heart straight into your throat.

Heaven couldn’t feel this good and hell couldn’t feel this hot. 

“Oh fuck, Robby,” you moaned. The sound of his name spilling from your lips became his new favorite song. “Robby, I’m close.”

The desperation in your voice instilled a sense of urgency within Robby; a demand for deliverance that could only be rivaled by the high pitch of a flatlining patient. But this wasn’t loss of life; this was rebirth.

Robby rocked back to a kneeling position, his eyes glued to your joint union as he drove his cock upward. It speared your core’s pressure point until your toes were curling.

Your cunt clenched tighter, beckoning your release. It mounted within your walls, swelling until it surged. You unleashed a sharp, ringing cry that filled the bedroom while your back arched off the bed and stars filled your eyes. Robby maintained his pace as your cunt convulsed, sending spasms searing through your nerve endings.

The end of your high marked the beginning of Robby’s. The vision of your mouth hanging open, breasts bouncing, dripping cunt swallowing his cock, was far more than he could handle. He swore loudly as his cock twitched. He yanked your hips flush with his as he spilled himself inside you, his fingers pressing hard into your flesh. 

Robby stilled when it was over. He released your hips and collapsed on the pillow beside you, his arms snaking their way around your torso as he pulled you close. You, however, were incapable of any movement. Your fucked out frame was limp and weak, but you couldn’t remember the last time you were this satisfied.

Faint traces of the morning’s first sunlight leaked through the curtains of Robby’s bedroom when you awoke. He slept with one arm flung across your torso. You studied him quietly as he slept. His peaceful breaths were a soothing contrast to his serious demeanor.

Then he snored so abruptly, he jerked awake. You bit back a laugh.

“Hey,” you said softly. Robby rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and offered you a crooked smile.

“Hey.” Robby studied you with such intensity, you could feel the familiar flush threatening to creep over your cheeks. “You sleep alright?”

You nodded. “You?”

Robby cracked another smile. “I did, considering it’s the first time I’ve slept in my own bed in weeks.”

“And whose fault is that?” you laughed with faux indignation. “I seem to recall offering to let you have the bed.”

“I only wanted it if I could share it with you.”

You swallowed your heart back down to your chest. “Well you left that minor detail out,” you quipped.

“Well I wasn’t aware it was an option,” Robby replied. You chewed at your bottom lip, unsure how to respond and annoyed at yourself for the lack of confidence. But in all fairness, it'd only been mere hours since the man had absolutely ruined you by turning you into a pitiful, whimpering, moaning mess. “But in all seriousness,” Robby continued, the amusement in his eyes shifting to something much more serious, “You do understand that I didn’t want for this to be a one-time thing, right?”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“But if you do want it to be a one-time thing, it’s alright,” Robby continued. “I just… you just…” His eyes scanned the ceiling as he decided on the right words. “Just tell me, okay?”

“I don’t want it to be a one-time thing, either,” you said immediately. Normally, you’d have practiced more restraint, more poise, played it cool and nonchalant, but this felt too raw and honest to hold back. 

“You don’t,” Robby repeated as if he needed confirmation.

“No.”

“Okay, good.”

You shifted to rest your head on his chest, the warmth of his body enveloping you with comfort. 

You couldn’t believe that, finally, you got what you wanted. Now it all seemed so simple; you and Robby made sense and it shouldn’t have taken so long for the two of you to reach that mutual understanding. But now, you were too giddy and too relieved to dwell on the past.

“The ER’s going to have a field day about us,” Robby muttered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m pretty sure they’ve all had their bets placed for quite some time,” you said.

“We don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to,” Robby said carefully. “But I don’t want you to feel like we have to be a secret. You’re not a secret or something that I could ever be ashamed of, but I understand if you want to keep this under wraps.”

“I’m not ashamed either,” you said with a frown. “Robby, I’ve wanted this – wanted you – for as long as I’ve known you.”

“Oh.” Robby seemed genuinely surprised by your revelation. He dragged a palm across his face and grimaced. “Guess we both wasted the past few years then.”

“Guess we’ll have to make up for it,” you said, drawing a grin from Robby. “But maybe to start, we just let everyone at work figure it out on their own.”

“Wanna bet on who’s the first to figure it out?”

“Oh, I’ll put $20 on Mohan,” you said confidently.

“I’ll put $20 on Dana.”

“Deal.”

A quiet moment fell over you, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the momentous change that had just taken hold of your life. Just 24 hours ago, you were single and pining hopelessly for the senior attending you thought couldn’t be bothered with any interest in you.

“I’m going to make some tea,” you declared, sliding out of bed to pull your bathrobe on. 

Once you were alone in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. You gazed around the kitchen, now wondering how often you’d spend time there in the future. Sure, you’d move back to your apartment in a few days, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were in your second home.

The sudden buzz of your phone on the counter pulled you from your daydreams. 

“Hey,” you said, accepting a Facetime call from Trinity.

“Goooood morning,” she said in a sing-song tone as Samira peered over her shoulder. They were clearly at work, standing at the nurses’ station. You’d never been so grateful for you and Robby to have a mutual day off.

“Good morning,” you said carefully, your tone cheery but not too jubilant.

“How’d it go?” Samira asked eagerly.

“Wait,” you said with a frown. “Samira, didn’t you work last night? Why are you there?”

“Working a double,” she responded breezily. “Now quit deflecting. How was the charity gala?”

“It was good,” you offered casually, propping your phone up on the counter against the backsplash so you could retrieve your tin of matcha from the cupboard. “I had a good time.”

“A good time,” Trinity repeated blankly.

“That’s what I said,” you hummed.

“Oh, come on,” Samira whined. “We need details. Did anything happen?”

“Define ‘anything,’” you replied as you filled the tea kettle with water.

Trinity rolled her eyes. “You’re really going to hold out on us, after all we’ve done for you.”

“What exactly did you do for me?” you laughed.

“We helped you pick out that stunningly sexy dress that Dr. Robby was supposed to tear off of you,” Samira answered matter-of-factly. 

“You two are insane.”

“And you are an asshole,” Trinity retorted. “Come on, give us something. You really can’t tell us that nothing-”

Her voice stopped abruptly and you watched her eyes widen at something behind you. You turned to look over your shoulder, where a shirtless Robby had appeared. 

“Hey, Dr. Robby!” Samira called out merrily. Meanwhile, Trinity’s jaw was hanging open.

Robby blinked, his hair still a tousled mess. “Good morning,” he said, stepping closer to peer at your phone. “Everything alright?”

“Everything is splendid,” Trinity answered. Even through your phone screen, you could see her eyes glinting with glee.

“Is that Dr. Robby?” Dana’s face appeared in frame and you sighed as you watched her expression react to seeing her senior attending standing in nothing but sweatpants behind you. “Well good morning to you both!” she mused with a knowing smile.

“Fuuuuuck,” Robby groaned from behind you. 

You glared daggers of annoyance at your friends. “We’re hanging up now,” you said.

“We’re hanging up?” Trinity mused. “You hear that? She’s already referring to them as ‘we.’” 

“Goodbye!” you sang as you ended the call. Behind you, Robby was rubbing his temples.

“Sorry,” he sighed. 

“It’s fine,” you said, more amused than annoyed. You’d known all along your secret would be short-lived. You crossed the kitchen to slide your arms around Robby’s torso, tilting your head backward to smirk up at him. 

“Guess you technically owe me $20, though.”

By the time you turned onto your parents’ street, your nerves had you anxiously drumming your hands on the steering wheel. You tried to play it cool, to keep Robby from worrying more, but the closer you came to your childhood home, the more the knot in your stomach tightened.

When you pulled into the driveway, you could see your mom peeking from the living room curtains.

“Ready?” you asked as you put the car in park.

“Ready,” Robby said with a surprising air of confidence. You couldn’t help but raise a curious eyebrow at him. “Look,” he continued. “I want your parents to like me, obviously, but I’m also too old to think that their opinion of our relationship is going to make a difference. How they feel about us isn’t going to change how I feel about you. They love you, and so do I.”

You offered him a smile, your heart swelling over how fucking lucky you felt. 

“You’re right,” you agreed, reaching to the passenger’s seat to give his knee a gentle squeeze. “Regardless of what they think, it’s still you and me.”

The glance exchanged between your parents when you introduced Robby wasn’t lost on you. You knew what they were thinking — they were surprised you’d brought home an older man. But as the evening progressed, you found yourself seated at the dinner table, smiling to yourself at the warm conversation that unfolded. You felt silly for doubting your parents. Sure, they could be a bit conservative and too concerned with keeping up appearances, but by the time your mom was cutting the pumpkin pie for dessert, they had embraced Robby with fondness. 

“And you really doubted me,” Robby murmured into your hair as you cuddled up to him in bed that night. 

“I didn’t doubt you,” you pointed out, turning to peer at him through the lenses of his reading glasses. “I doubted them. And I guess I shouldn’t have.”

“That remark your mom made about grandkids was a bit alarming though.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you sighed. “But at least she likes you enough to grant you permission to make her a grandparent.”

“She does know any child of mine will be raised a Steelers fan, right?”

You smacked him with a pillow. 

You woke up early the next morning and crept quietly into your parents’ kitchen, leaving Robby to sleep. Your mom was already up, drinking coffee in her favorite armchair by the front window. 

“Morning,” she chirped, motioning for you to sit on the sofa. When you obliged, she smiled at you. “Robby seems really nice, honey,” she said. “He seems like a hell of a doctor. And he really seems to care about you.”

“He’s brilliant,” you agreed. “And he’s a far better person than I could’ve asked for.”

“Do you think he’s the one?” 

“I hope so,” you answered. “Because even if there were two of him, he’s the only one I’d want.”

By the time Robby woke up and strode into the living room, you and your mom were watching the latest episode of 90 Day Fiance. Robby shook his head at you and headed toward the kitchen for coffee. 

“Sorry I don’t have any tea for you, honey,” your mom apologized. “I always forget that you don’t drink coffee.”

“I have tea.” Robby poked his head back into the living room. “I brought your matcha. It’s in my backpack.”

From across the living room, your mom smiled at you in approval.

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night !!

ᝰ.ᐟ there’s nothing nagi values more than getting his rest, but thoughts of you have been keeping him wide awake at night. someone has to help him get rid of all this annoying restless energy — and it has to be you, the whole entire reason why his sleeping schedule is fucked. ( fem!reader )

pairing seishiro nagi x reader word count 2.4k content contains jealousy (nagi is being a baby abt how chigiri has your attention)/jealous sex, soft yandere!nagi, possessive sex, biting/marking kinktober masterlist

Evil. 

That’s what you are. Nagi is convinced that you are the fucking devil, someone sent from the abyss to ruin his life and destroy his ego. 

Maybe that’s a harsh judgment to make — he doesn’t mean it; not really, anyway. But there is something about you that chips away at his nonchalance. Seishiro Nagi doesn’t care about a lot of things. He can’t be bothered to. He thought that after soccer found its way into whatever void is inside of him, he’d be fulfilled. That that was it — he found his purpose, he found his driving force, and now he can enter society as a functioning human being with actual hopes and dreams. 

He never realized that he had the capacity to care about anything else, and then you arrive on the field one day, camera in one hand, a bright smile plastered on your face as you’re being introduced as the new social media manager for Manshine City. 

And suddenly, Nagi realizes that not only does he have the capacity, he’s actually emptier than he thought. 

You had been receptive to his awkward, fumbling advances. For as attractive and cool he appears on the outside, Nagi’s never bothered to actually approach any girls before. Never really felt the need to. You had taken all his accidental rude comments in stride, and you harbored the same interests as him, and he finally has you now. 

He has you, and no one else can call you theirs, and yet here he is, on a Friday night, sulking in bed instead of getting his precious rest time. 

He’s frowning, looking up at his ceiling as he thinks about what had happened earlier today. 

There’s really no need for a dress code. The coaches are all decked out in athleisure, the athletes themselves are wearing practice jerseys, and since you’re expected to be constantly on the move and chasing after these athletes, trying to get good footage and spend the whole day with ‘em, Nagi can’t necessarily fault you for wanting to be comfortable. You’re wearing a cropped version of the Define Jacket with leggings that hug you in just the right way, and Nagi swears that he isn’t a jealous person.

He thinks being envious is a crude waste of his energy, energy that he can’t bother to exert, and he’s never really experienced jealousy before. 

Maybe that’s why he’s awake at midnight despite the fact that he has an early morning practice scheduled. A practice that you’ll be attending, once again. He frowns as he tosses and turns in his bed, trying to shut his eyes, but every time they’re closed, he keeps seeing you. 

More accurately, you and Chigiri. 

Just the thought of his teammate is enough to make a scowl appear on his face. 

You’re filming content for a TikTok, and Nagi can’t help but childishly pout when he asks himself why does the TikTok need to star Chigiri and Chigiri alone? It’s not like he’s the only member on the team, you know! You spent the whole day laughing at whatever Chigiri had to say, and Nagi knows that it sounds terrible, but he doubts his teammate is that hilarious. And the way you kept following him around, barely paying any attention to the other players, including your own boyfriend, wasn’t even Nagi’s breaking point. No — what his breaking point happened to be was the way your figure-flattering outfit was just too tantalizing. 

You’re so focused on Chigiri, with your back turned to everyone else, that Nagi gets quite a view every time you’re bending down to get a different angle. Even just the memory alone is enough to get him hard. 

Fuck. Now he’s sporting a semi, he’s still seething with jealousy with the memory of you all over Chigiri still constantly playing on a loop in his mind, and worst of all: you’re not here with him. Your laptop is in your apartment, and you had kissed him goodbye after practice because you needed to edit the footage you captured today, and so you can’t spend the night with him like you usually do. 

When thirty minutes go by, and he’s still wide awake, jealous, and hard, Nagi rolls over and groans in his pillow. The minute he gets his hands on, he’s intent on making sure you can’t walk. You won’t be able to chase after Chigiri, that’s for damn sure. 

Things don’t necessarily go according to Nagi’s grand plan. Sure, you’re laying in bed with him, wearing just his shirt and a pair of panties, but you barely paid any attention to him. He’s been pretending to be occupied with his Switch, but he keeps glancing over at you. 

You’re on your phone, eyebrows furrowed as you meticulously go through the footage for a video you plan on uploading. Nagi scowls when he catches a familiar glimpse of red hair moving on the screen. You’re still editing videos of him? Seriously? 

“I thought you weren’t working today,” he mumbles, tossing aside the Switch. You don’t even look up from your phone.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, but Hyoma asked if there’s anything he can improve on for the next promo vid we’re shooting, and I want to at least find something to comment on so he knows I’m taking him seriously.” Chigiri is surprisingly a perfectionist when it comes to videos of himself. He’s been constantly asking you if you’re sure he doesn’t look too nervous or too stiff on camera, and honestly, his worrying is a bit endearing. 

Hyoma — since when were you on a first name basis with his teammate?

This is what sets him off. This is his breaking point.

Sometimes, with how sloth-like Nagi acts, it’s easy to forget that he’s a bonafide professional athlete. A genius, even. He’s quick to pounce on you, tossing your phone somewhere on his massive bed while pinning your body down with his own. With no pesky phone in the way, the only person to give your undivided attention to is him. That’s exactly how it should be. 

“Sei— Ah!” You can’t help but let out a surprised gasp as you feel Nagi nip the soft skin of your neck, teeth grazing you. Not hard enough to leave a mark (he’ll save that for later, for when you’re too drunk on his cock to protest), but sharp enough for you to feel it, to feel the pressure and the intent and the promise behind a love bite. 

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.” Nagi grumbles, his head still buried in the crook of your neck. 

“I am, Seishiro.” You run a hand through the white strands of your boyfriend’s hair. It’s just as soft as it looks, and he leans into your touch, seemingly content. You didn’t realize just how neglected poor Nagi was feeling, and you wonder if it’s possible if he’s jealous. But that can’t be it — Nagi’s never been jealous a day in his life. He doesn’t even react when he catches guys flirting with you in public because he’s so confident in his relationship with you. 

You think he just wants to rest like this, but then you feel his lips dragging down the expanse of your neck. He sucks on your collarbone for a second, and returns back to your neck, sucking and biting, and all you can do is tangle your fingers into his hair, letting out little whimpers and gasps. 

“Sei, baby, you— you’re gonna leave marks.” 

He lifts his head up momentarily, staring up at you with a dark fog in his gray eyes that you normally don’t see. Underneath that haze of desire, though, lies something sharper in the gleam of his eyes. 

“That’s the point.” 

And then he does bite down on the fragile flesh of your neck. And you just lay there, allowing him to. 

Nagi wastes no time in using one hand to rub against your thigh, squeezing at the plushness of it before traveling further to slide your cotton panties to the side. When his thick fingers brush against your folds, he can’t hold back a smile as he finds you already wet. 

You’re embarrassed, heat rising to your cheeks when Nagi holds up his hand so you can see the way your essence is glistening on his middle and ring fingers. “You’re this wet, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.” His tone is half-teasing, half-in awe. He maintains eye contact with you, and you watch him stick his fingers in his mouth, obscenely sucking on his digits, groaning as the taste of you hits his tongue. 

And when he’s done, he finally does kiss you properly. 

You think you can taste a hint of yourself on him, and it only makes you feel even hotter. You’re subconsciously thrusting your hips upwards, trying to get any sort of friction from him. 

“Mm, ah, Sei—”

“Shh.” Nagi hushes you, pressing another kiss against your lips, swallowing up your would-be pleading and begging for something, anything — his fingers, his tongue, his cock, something to ease the heat building inside of you. “Gonna make my baby feel so good.” He rubs at your slit through the slickness of your panties, teasing you as he allows the thin fabric to act as the only barrier between his ring finger and your wet heat. You’re already soaking through the cotton.

He’s been fucking pent up since last night, finding no relief, and now that he has you pinned down on his bed, wet and whining for him, he figures you won’t mind if he rushes into things. He has plenty of stamina, anyway. He can go all night if you want him to.

You mewl out his name pathetically when he slides your panties to the side once more, only instead of his fingers toying with you, it’s the tip of his cock that you feel prodding the entrance of your cunt. 

“You feel that?” He gasps out, having to take a few breaths as he adjusts to the snugness and heat of your cunt. He’s slowly pressing forward, making himself at home inside of your pussy, slowly but surely. “That’s—” Just a few more inches ‘til he’s bottoming out. “—the only dick that’s ever gonna be inside of your pussy.” He’s pressed as deeply as possible, his entire length buried inside of you. 

He’s close, so close to you, and all you can do is whimper as you adjust to his size. Nagi’s cock isn’t just long, but thick. Even with your slick-soaked hole helping ease him in, it’s still a bit of a pain to take him all the way. 

“Say it.” His voice goes a bit deeper than his normal easy-going cadence. When you look into your boyfriend’s eyes, you see it once more: the pussydrunk, lustful haze clouding his vision, and the dark, sharp look that is the driving force behind why your boyfriend impatiently started burying his cock inside of you as soon as he could. “C’mon, tell me.” 

The thrusts he’s giving you right now are only shallow; an inch or two being pulled out, only to lightly be shoved back in. It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters, but you can hear the edge in his tone. He’s growing impatient once more, but he refuses to fuck you boneless unless you tell him what he wants to hear. 

Fortunately, it’s the truth. It’s the truth when you whine out, “This pussy is a-all yours, Seishiro.” 

“Yeah?” He’s pulling out slowly, licking his lips as he watches how submissive he can get you to be. He’ll start with a slower pace, he decides. Treat his girl to a couple of easy orgasms before he starts showcasing his true strength. 

At least, that was his plan. Then, your phone notifies you of a text message.

He stills, eyes glancing, squinting at your screen. 

It’s a text. 

From Chigiri. 

Nagi focuses his attention back on you, but inside his mind, all he sees is the notification with his teammate’s name on it. Your eyes are wide, as if you know what he just saw, but before you can explain yourself, Nagi abruptly slams back into you.

The pace he sets is brutal. He has one hand gripping the headboard to steady himself, his other is angrily tightened around your hip, sure to leave a bruise he’ll kiss all better later. 

“Fuck.” He practically snarls, never relenting. All you can do is let out a string of moans as his cock continues to pound your pussy. There’s another chime from your phone, another notification from Chigiri. He’s asking if the video looks okay. 

You don’t have work on the brain. The only thing your mind is capable of processing are the sensations that Nagi is serving up to you on a silver platter. Even with his brutal pace and hard thrusts, he finds enough kindness inside of him to move his hand from your hip and instead grind his palm against your clit. The callouses all over his hand only add to the pleasure, and you find yourself sobbing out his name as you feel the familiar, overwhelming need to cum. 

“You gonna cum?” Nagi grunts out, as if he doesn't already know. He can tell, y’know. He can tell, because your walls are clamping down on his dick so tightly, it’s a struggle to pull out because you’re clinging to him. He can tell, because you’ve got your adorable little fucked-out expression on your face. Drool on your lips, a string of incoherent pleading and broken mewls of his name. His name. Yeah, you better be moaning his name, and his only.

“Mm, Seishiro!” You squeal out, tightening even more against his cock. Your clit is so sensitive, so receptive to his touch, paired with the nonstop thrusting of his dick, you can’t help but cream all over him. 

“Fu-ck.” The swear comes out in broken syllables as Nagi feels you cumming on his cock. He looks away from your face to look at the messy scene between your legs. Your panties are still pushed to the side, the fabric wet from your juices, and when he pulls out a bit, he sees a nice, white ring around his girth. 

You’re still whimpering, eyes closed shut as you try to regain your breath, but Nagi isn’t done just yet. He still hasn’t cum.

When he hears another text message notification, certainly from Chigiri once again, Nagi knows that you’re in for a long night. He won’t stop even after he cums. 

No — for every text message you get from his teammate, that’s another orgasm he’ll just have to wring out of you.

[fableforger]

⚡ Echoes of Olympus

A myth-based interactive story about gods, rebellion, memory — and the people caught between power and purpose.

Echoes of Olympus is a myth-inspired interactive story about gods, rebellion — and the people caught between power and purpose.

You play as a lesser god(dess), sent into a divine war to crush a mortal uprising.

But when you're captured by those you were meant to destroy, something shifts.

The lines between loyalty and truth begin to blur.

And the choices you make might shape more than your fate alone.

Expect: slow-burn romance, myth-heavy worldbuilding, emotional choices that echo.

🧭 What Echoes offers:

Choose one of 10 gods and embody that divine aspect

7 romance options (5 gender-variable, 1 male-only, 1 female-only)

Deep customization (and — if I do it right — high replay value)

Rebellion, intimacy, sacrifice, and myth

A ChoiceScript experience with stats, emotional branching, and atmospheric worldbuilding

🌿 Demo

Chapters 1–3 are currently available

(100k+ words — free to play)

→ Play the demo

→ Read the content warnings

💘 Romance Options

🗡️ Alexos / Alexa

The fallen warrior once loyal to Olympus.

Gold hair. Bronze eyes with something burning quiet behind them. A body made for battle – still holding tension like it’s second nature.

They don’t say much about their past. But it walks with them anyway.

→ Read more (⚠️ minor spoilers ahead)

🌿 Theron / Thera

A silent hunter who sees more than they say.

Copper-red hair, soft and tangled. Green eyes that hold too many visions. Leathery armor shaped by forest paths and colder nights.

They won’t chase you. But they might wait where you’re already heading.

→ Read more (⚠️ minor spoilers ahead)

🌘 Dorian / Dione

The outcast wrapped in shadows, charm, and too many names.

Ink-dark hair. Violet eyes that shift with the truth. Smooth hands that never quite stay still. Smiles like a threat you might enjoy.

If you fall for them, they may let you. Just don’t expect to land gently.

→ Read more (⚠️ minor spoilers ahead)

⚖️ Rhaelos / Rhaela

The blade that judges. And rarely forgives.

Ash-blond hair. Eyes like still water before a storm – dark, almost black.

They don’t speak often. But when they do, something inside you might sit up straighter.

→ Read more (⚠️ minor spoilers ahead)

❄️ Zephiron / Zephyra

The kind of rebel who follows no one – so they always end up ahead.

Silver-white hair. Ice-blue eyes. Blazing tattoos flickering like breath under their skin.

Might walk away mid-conversation. Might kiss you mid-sentence.

→ Read more (⚠️ minor spoilers ahead)

🐺 Drakon (male only)

A presence that doesn’t quite belong — to the rebellion, or to Olympus.

Wild dark hair. Eyes like scorched bronze. Old scars and a stillness that feels too focused – like it’s waiting for something to move.

Don’t ask what he used to be. He hasn’t stopped being it yet.

→ Read more (⚠️ minor spoilers ahead)

🌈 ??? (female only)

No description available.

Some things aren’t meant to be seen until the right moment has come.

📚 Navigation

🔎 About

What is Echoes of Olympus? A brief look into the story’s shape and soul.

❔ FAQ

How does the game work? Can you be cruel? Will you be kissed? All that and more.

⚖️ Ethics & Transparency (please read!!)

A personal note about how this story is made — and what it means to be.

🚨 Content Warnings

This world touches on dark things. Here’s what to expect — and what’s optional.

💠 Support

Want to support the project? You'll find links to Patreon & Ko-fi here. Entirely optional, always appreciated.

🛠️ Dev Log

You can find it 👉🏻 here on Patreon (completely free, no subscription required).

🗂️ Answered RO Asks as a List with Links:

How would the Ros react to seeing a short Mc wearing their clothes (shirt)

What type of flower would each of the RO's like the most?

What are the ROs' love languages? Receiving and Giving?

How would the RO's handle it if the MC sometimes experienced derealization?

How jealous are the RO's?

What type of personality would I, as the creator, find most interesting to pair each of the RO's with or just envision them with?

How experience are the RO's with romance and sex? Also, how do they feel with a MC who never had any experience?

What do the RO's do if MC screams from their room that they jolt out screaming their was a spider near their face

How do the RO's feel about MC leaving hickeys/giving MC hickeys

How would the RO's react to a stranger telling the ros they could do better than MC?

If in the relationship stage who would like an MC that is really clingy and affectionate?

How would the ROs react with an MC that acts just like them?

What do the ROs think of an MC who’s a lot shorter than them?

What camp do the ROs fall under when it comes to ‘better have loved and lost’ vs ‘never loved at all’?

In a modern AU, what do you think the RO's jobs would be?

What would the ROs do if an MC that has nightmares left in the middle of the night?

Would the ROs rather sacrifice the MC to save the world or let the world burn, preserving the MC's life?

What do the ROs think about a really tall MC?

How are the RO's with kids, and do they want any?

How would the cast react if MC told them they love them while drunk?

What's the ROs favorite place to be kissed/to kiss?

"Puppy or kitty scenario with the RO's - Male Version"

"Puppy or kitty scenario with the RO's - Female Version"

How would the ROs react to being carried bridal style by the MC?

What animals would I use to represent the ROs?

"Scenario of holding hands"

Would the RO's let MC play with their hands to fidget?

"The MC steals pets scenario"

"MC explores body of RO. Would they be patient?"

"Ariel-sees-a-fork-for-the-first-time Scenario"

Nail polish for RO's?

MC gets sick. Who would care for them?

MC and a creep

How would the Ros react if MC went up and smacked their ass?

If MC was under mind control to do horrible things who would be able to kill MC??

Flower crown sweet scenario

“I can hold my entire world in my hands, wanna see?” sweet scenario

What would the RO's do on a beach day?

MC has cold hands scenario

How would the Ro's react if they were arguing with the Mc and slowly realized the Mc is right?

SIREN SNIPPET ??? Edition

SIREN SNIPPET DRAKON EDITION

How would the ROs react to having a spicy dream about the MC in the crushing stage?

[thealchemistbae]

Cosmic Clout: Astrological Indicators of Social Media Fame 📲👑✨

Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

✨: Mercury - Uranus Aspects (The Digital Genius)

Mercury conjunct, trine, or sextile Uranus -> Quick witted, ahead of trends, and innovative in communication. These people say things others wish they could articulate, often leading to viral content.

Mercury square or opposite Uranus -> Unpredictable, controversial, and shock-value communication. Unexpected tweets or videos can skyrocket them into relevance.

✨: Venus in Aspect to Neptune (The Internet's Dream Aesthetic)

Venus conjunct, trine or sextile Neptune -> Ethereal, captivating beauty or aesthetic that resonates with online audiences. Could be a "Pinterest girl" or someone whose visuals always go viral.

Venus square or opposite Neptune -> Aesthetic is either heavily romanticized or misunderstood. Could face issues with online image distortion but still maintains an allure that keeps people watching.

✨: Pluto in the 3rd House (The Power Communicator)

Transformative words and an intense online presence. This placement gives someone a "cult following" on social media. Think deep, thought-provoking captions, tweets that make people overanalyze, or content that feels almost hypnotic.

✨: Midheaven Aspects to Outer Planets (Public Destiny Tied to Digital Influence)

Midheaven conjunct Uranus -> Sudden and unexpected fame, often through a viral moment. Their career path is unconventional and influenced by digital culture.

Midheaven conjunct or trine Neptune -> Fame built on a dreamy, illusory persona. Think influencers who cultivate a mystical, artistic, or unattainable aesthetic.

Midheaven square Pluto -> Extreme love-hate relationship with fame. They either go viral for something transformative or controversial, or they're polarizing figures online.

✨: 11th House Stellium (Digital Influence & Mass Following)

The 11th house rules large audiences, networking, and digital spaces. A stellium (3 or more planets) here indicates someone who naturally attracts an online following.

Mars in the 11th -> Aggressive networking, viral for bold takes.

Venus in the 11th -> Likeable, people want to befriend or copy them.

Neptune in the 11th -> Mysterious and aspirational. People project fantasies onto them.

✨: 3rd House - Uranus Connections (Innovative Speech & Online Impact)

Uranus in the 3rd House -> Unfiltered, unpredictable, and highly engaging content style. Their posts tend to either spark trends or controversy.

Uranus trine/sextile Mercury -> Naturally goes viral due to a unique way of speaking or delivering messages.

Uranus square Mercury -> Can have a love/hate relationship with how their words are received. One tweet could launch a career or a scandal.

✨: North Node in the 10th or 11th House (Destined for Digital Recognition)

10th house North Node -> Meant for public recognition; social media is often the catalyst.

11th house North Node -> Fame comes through networking, online communities, or being the voice of an era.

✨: Transits That Spark Social Media Success

Jupiter transiting the 10th house -> Major career breakthroughs, public expansion, viral moments.

Uranus conjunct Midheaven -> Sudden, unexpected fame (often through the internet)

Neptune transiting the 1st house -> A period where they become idealized, aesthetic-focused, or seen as a fantasy figure.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

I’m sure there is more but honestly this is all I have for now. Enjoy ⚡️

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

✨