#and you had to. look up the code. and fill in each question

[snixx]

(out of 60 and a batch of 600 students btw)

HOW DO YOU UNIRONICALLY POST THIS AFTER FUCKING UP YOUR ENDSEM BY MAKING A FAULTY EXAM PORTAL AND DELETING HALF THE STUDENTS' RESPONSES OUT OF YOUR INCOMPETENCE AND THEN FORCING THE ENTIRE BATCH OF 600 STUDENTS TO GIVE THE ENDSEM AGAIN AFTER THE END OF THE SEMESTER WITH LESS THAN 3 DAYS' NOTICE BECAUSE OF YOUR FUCKING MISTAKE AFTER TRYING TO KEEP THE RE-EXAM ON A DATE WITH LESS THAN A DAY'S NOTICE AND MAKING THE WORST QUESTION PAPER EVER LITERALLY KILL YOURSELF

anyway. @v***** g****

[theosang3ls]

Crawling back to you

inspired by Hozier’s version of “Do I wanna know?”

pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

summary: Mattheo is your new neighbour who quickly becomes obsessed with you and finds rather creative ways to talk to you

warnings: mentions of blood, fluff

A/N: in my mind every single song by Hozier is Mattheo coded. I had so much fun writing this! English is not my first language! Hope you enjoy reading this!

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You stood quietly over Mattheo, his left palm bloodied and trembling ever so slightly beneath your touch. The harsh scent of disinfectant clung to the air between you as you dabbed at his wound with a cotton pad, each movement slow, deliberate, and tender. Your fingers moved carefully, reserved in their precision, as though he were made of fragile porcelain and might shatter under the weight of anything more. The sting of the antiseptic hitting his torn skin made Mattheo hiss under his breath, his jaw tightening—but the pain barely registered compared to the storm of emotion twisting in his chest.

He couldn't take his eyes off you. There you were: utterly focused, lips pressed into a firm, concentrated line, your brow slightly furrowed as you worked. Your hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, a few loose strands falling across your cheeks, catching the light in a way that made you seem almost otherworldly. You were breathtaking, ethereal, and completely unaware of just how beautiful you looked like that—lost in the task of patching him up with a quiet determination that made his heart ache.

Since the moment Mattheo had first seen you, since his gaze had landed on your soft, unassuming figure in the hallway of your apartment block, something inside him had shifted. You had smiled at him— just a polite, neighborly smile—but it had been enough to snare his thoughts entirely. He hadn't believed in fate, not until the day he realized he'd moved into the unit just two doors down from yours. And now, sitting on your worn-in couch, his injured hand in yours, it felt like the universe had led him here with purpose. You were kind, graceful, quietly radiant— a walking contradiction to the chaos that often lived inside him. And he wanted to stay in this moment for as long as you'd let him.

"You're all patched up," you murmured, voice soft as you smoothed the final fold of the bandage over his palm. Your touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, gentle and warm. Then you looked up at him, a small smile pulling at your lips. "Can I get you anything else?"

Mattheo's heart stuttered. That smile—god, that smile—was enough to make him weak. He felt something in his chest unravel. "Just a glass of water," he replied, offering a smile of his own, the kind he didn't give to many. It felt unfamiliar on his face, but it bloomed easily in your presence. You nodded and rose from the couch, heading toward the kitchen, your silhouette briefly disappearing into the dim light.

As you turned the tap and filled the glass, you finally summoned the question that had been sitting on your tongue since he first stepped into your apartment. "You want to tell me how you got that?" you asked, voice casual, but laced with curiosity as you leaned your back against the counter, arms crossed.

Mattheo hesitated. His mind spun quickly through the easiest lie, one that wouldn't spark more questions. "I broke a jar," he said finally, tracing absent circles over the bandage you had so gently applied just minutes before. "Tried to pick up the glass, tripped a little. Guess I wasn't being careful."

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and offered him a look that made him simultaneously want to laugh and squirm. "Nice story," you said, chuckling slightly. "Now tell me what actually happened."

Mattheo pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense, his features twisting into a playful expression. "Are you implying that I'm lying to you?" he asked, tone exaggeratedly wounded, though there was amusement glinting behind his eyes.

"That's exactly what I'm doing," you shot back, your smirk deepening, your eyes dancing with the challenge.

And just like that, something unspoken passed between you—a shift in the air, a charge that neither of you fully understood, but both of you felt.

"What makes you think I'm lying, hmm?" Mattheo asked, his voice smooth and low, edged with amusement. He cocked a brow, a smug little smirk dancing at the corner of his mouth—a smirk you'd seen far too many times in the hallways, in the elevator, in passing glimpses at your mailbox. You hated that it affected you the way it did. Hated how your pulse picked up every time you caught sight of him. How your breath always stalled for just a second too long.

There was something about him—something magnetic and consuming. Maybe it was his unwavering confidence, or the lazy way he always seemed to lean against doorframes like he had nowhere to be, like he had all the time in the world just to look at you. Maybe it was those dark curls, often tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed, or those impossibly deep brown eyes that made it hard to look away. Or maybe it was the small scar on the bridge of his nose—a subtle imperfection that made him all the more perfect. Whatever it was, he left you flustered in a way you hadn't been in years. You weren't the type to get distracted by someone so easily—but Mattheo was an exception, and your thoughts betrayed you constantly because of it.

You pushed yourself off the edge of the counter where you'd been leaning, suddenly aware of how close he still was, and walked over to hand him the glass of water. As you did, your fingers brushed his, sending an uninvited jolt of electricity through your veins. "One," you began, coolly, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I didn't find a single shard of glass when I was cleaning your hand. Two, that cut's far too straight to have come from a broken jar. And three..." you looked up at him, your gaze unwavering, "we live close enough that I would've heard something shatter in your apartment. But I didn't."

Mattheo's eyebrows rose, genuinely impressed. He hadn't expected you to pay such close attention—to every sound, every detail, every flicker of inconsistency in his words. God, it only made you more irresistible. The way your voice held firm, the way that one loose strand of hair curved down your cheek—he was hopelessly enamored. "Aren't you a bright one," he teased, the words curling out of his mouth like a purr. His gaze locked onto yours, heated and steady.

You tried to hold it, really, you did—but the intensity in his eyes was unbearable. It made your stomach flip, made your throat tighten. You hummed in response, barely audible, before quickly turning away and heading back toward the kitchen. You didn't need anything from there—not really. But the nearness of him, the way your skin still tingled where his hand had touched yours—it was too much. You needed distance. Space to think. Space to breathe. Because if you stayed too close, for even a moment longer, you might do something stupid— like lean in and kiss him.

"Care to explain how it really happened?" you asked, your voice a little quieter now as you fiddled absentmindedly with a spoon left out on the counter.

Silence.

You glanced over your shoulder, expecting a response—but he was still watching you, like he was drinking you in. Your heart jumped at the intensity of his stare, and something twisted in your chest. You narrowed your eyes slightly, thinking through the details. That kind of wound—clean, precise—it hadn't come from glass. It looked like the kind of cut a blade would make. But... how the hell did someone slice the inside of their palm like that?

And then it hit you.

"Oh my god..." you whispered, eyes widening slightly as you turned to face him fully. "Did you... cut yourself, Mattheo?"

Your voice softened on his name, barely more than a breath—but it stopped him cold. The way you said it, laced with concern and a quiet, blooming anger, made something primal shift in him. He could barely handle how it made him feel.

He grinned, far too casually for what he was admitting to. "Only so I could be taken care of by my favorite neighbor," he replied with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks flushed instantly. Heat rose to the surface of your skin, betraying your every effort to remain composed. You hated how easily he disarmed you—hated even more how much you liked it.

You didn't respond. Couldn't. Your body betrayed you with silence, and that was all the confirmation Mattheo needed.

"Are you turned on?" he asked, letting out a quiet, breathy chuckle that wrapped around your spine like silk. "What? No!" you blurted, your voice too quick, too defensive.

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing. "Now look who's lying."

And then he stood up.

You should have stepped back—your mind screamed at you to create space, to run before it got worse—but your body stayed rooted in place as he crossed the room in long, confident strides. Each step toward you made the room feel smaller, warmer, heavier with unspoken tension.

His hand came up gently, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing a featherlight path across your skin. Your breath hitched. Your heart pounded. You looked up into his eyes—god, those eyes—and felt like you might melt right there.

"Tell me," he murmured, leaning in closer, his voice dipping into something low and intoxicating. "What is it that turns you on, hmm?" Your gaze faltered again, flicking downward in a futile attempt to escape the intensity. But his other hand rose, cradling the other side of your face, holding you in place with a kind of softness that made your knees weaken. "Don't shy away from me now," he whispered, eyes searching yours.

And for a moment —just a moment— the world stopped spinning. You couldn't breathe. Or maybe you were just too aware of every breath, every inch of space between your bodies—what little was left of it. His hands framed your face with such reverent gentleness, as if you were something sacred, something fragile. His thumbs moved slowly across your cheeks, tracing invisible paths that left your skin tingling in their wake. And his eyes... god, his eyes were devouring you—full of heat and curiosity and something deeper, something almost tender.

He leaned in just slightly, just enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your lips, and it took everything in you not to close the distance.

"I mean it," he said softly, voice low and husky, as though the air between you wasn't already heavy enough. "Don't look away."

You didn't. You couldn't.

Your heart thundered against your ribs, your lips parted ever so slightly, and time stilled around you. The kitchen disappeared. The world fell silent. All you could feel was his touch and his gaze and the way every part of you leaned toward him like a tide being pulled by the moon.

"Say something," he whispered, his lips barely inches from yours.

But you didn't need to. Because in the next heartbeat, you closed the space between you.

Your lips met his—tentative at first, like a question you didn't know how to ask—but the moment they touched, everything else unraveled. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your cheeks, pulling you closer, grounding you in the softness of his mouth against yours. He kissed you like he'd been waiting forever—slow, deep, savoring every second like he never wanted it to end. You felt his breath hitch, the way he exhaled into the kiss, like you'd stolen the air from his lungs and he didn't mind one bit.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you needed something to hold onto. And maybe you did—because kissing Mattheo felt like falling. Like diving headfirst into something dangerous and beautiful and completely out of your control.

He kissed you like he meant it. Like he'd thought about this a thousand times and none of those daydreams came close to the real thing. His hands slid down, one settling lightly on your waist, the other brushing the small of your back, anchoring you to him.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your foreheads touched, and your noses brushed. His eyes were still closed for a moment, as though committing every second of the kiss to memory.

You didn't say anything right away. Neither did he. You just stood there—hearts pounding, breathing each other in. "I knew it," he murmured finally, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "You were turned on." You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling too. "You're insufferable."

"And yet," he whispered, tilting his head slightly, brushing his lips against yours again in a teasing ghost of a kiss, "you kissed me."

You didn't argue.

Because you already knew you'd do it again.

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A/N: this was so cute I loved writing it! Hope you loved reading it as well!

!Reblogs, Likes and Comments are highly appreciated¡

masterlist

…until next time lovelies💋

[leo-in-the-pitt]

Turning Point

This is Chapter 5 of the Beginning to End series !

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Wife!Reader 

Summary: You and Jack are newlyweds who also just so happen to be expecting your first baby. These next 9 months will be the best and worst of your life whether you realize it or not.

Warnings: Established relationship, implied age gap, strong language, some fluff but also porn with plot, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (both m and f receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, pregnancy, birth trauma

WC: 12.7k

First Night Back

Fortunately for you and Jack, Robby was able to get you a full week off before coming back to work after the wedding. The week was filled with you two sitting on the couch next to each other creating a registry for not only the baby but, for things to fill your home with eventually.

“You ready to go back tonight?”

“I wish I could stay home with you all the time but, yeah, I’m ready.”

The buzz of the ER returned like muscle memory.

You and Jack stood side by side in the locker room.  His hair was still damp from the quick shower he'd taken before you left the house. You could smell his shampoo in it. 

“Ready for the honeymoon shift?” Jack said, his voice dry but warm.

You snorted. “Nothing says romance like traumas and code blues.”

He leaned over and kissed your temple. “At least you’re here to make it tolerable.”

You walked out together, and the noise hit instantly—monitors beeping, a patient yelling from triage, an EMT calling out vitals mid-roll-in. It should’ve felt overwhelming. Instead, it felt weirdly familiar. 

“Well, well, well look who’s back.” Robby said from across the ER.

Dana held her arms out. “We’ve got a full board just for you two. Pedestrian versus car in Trauma 1. Sepsis in 3. Psych eval holding in 5 and refusing meds. And,” she added with a smirk, “some kid in curtain 8 swallowed a Lego.”

“So glad to be back here,” you muttered, walking away to find your first case back.

You and Jack split off instinctively, no need to even speak. You caught him glancing at you as he passed. A flicker of we’re okay. We’re doing this.

The night was filled with case after case, barely any time to talk to each other. Mostly just him asking if you were okay in passing. But you always made time to catch each other eyes from across the ER.

There was a lull around 2am when Jack came to find you. He looked over at you, and his expression softened. “You sure you’re okay?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked tonight. Or this week.

You sighed. “I’m pregnant, not broken. I’m fine.”

“Just making sure.”

You leaned your hip against the desk, pretending you didn’t notice the subtle way Jack’s eyes scanned you from head to toe—evaluating.

“Jack.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender but said, “I’m allowed to care.”

You softened. He wasn’t wrong. It was part love, part habit. The way you’d both learned to read each other in triage, in chaos, in the stillness between codes. Except now the stakes were higher. 

6:50 a.m. — Change of Shift

You were charting the last of your overnight notes when you heard them before you saw them.

Dana, breezing through the doors with a coffee in one hand and her ID badge already clipped on crooked. Robby beside her, muttering something. And Langdon, as always, trailing behind them.

“Look at you,” Dana said the moment she spotted you, dragging her chair backward across the floor to sit right beside you. “Pregnant and still functioning. Honestly, it’s inspiring. Or maybe terrifying.”

You didn’t look up. “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had a nap and a bagel.”

“Fair,” Robby said, dropping his bag on the counter. “But before we begin, serious question: Are you going to have your baby in this hospital?”

“Well, our OB is upstairs so don’t think we have too much on a choice. But no, you guys are not allowed in the room. You can all wait in the waiting room.”

Groans came from all of them before Dana and Robby walked away. Landon staying behind.

Langdon leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing at your charting speed. “You’ve been up all night?”

“Sure have,” you said, popping the final signature on your trauma note.

“You should be home. Resting.”

Jack, walking past, paused just long enough to throw in, “She also threw a pen across the unit when her monitor froze, so…thriving.”

You shot him a glare, but your lips twitched. “It didn’t hit anyone.”

Langdon grunted. “I’ve seen less motivated attendings take two weeks off for a cold. And you’re still here?”

You shrugged. “Only sixteen weeks, not sixty. I can still do my job.”

“You look like something’s bothering you kid. You fuck up on your first night back already?”

“I’m offended that you would even think that but, no. Its about me and Jack.”

“It’s about your sex life isn’t it?”

“That obvious?”

“Somehow these conversations always turn into a sex talk regardless of how hard I try to say away from it and anyway you guys are married now and you’re carrying his child so even if I don’t want to think about it, obviously you guys are having sex.” Langdon blinked once.  “So go on.”

You exhaled, feeling immediately ridiculous but too far in to stop. “It’s just- we’ve been weird lately. Hesitant. Ever since I started showing. I mean of course we had sex on our wedding night and one other time last week but, it felt off in a way.”

Langdon nodded, letting you keep going.

“He’s being careful. Like, overly careful. Gentle in a way that makes me feel like I might shatter. And I know it’s coming from a good place. I just- I miss feeling like myself. Like us. There’s this invisible line we keep dancing around, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s scared of hurting me. Or the baby. Or both.”

Langdon leaned back in his chair. “Definitely both.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen it before, felt it before actually,” Langdon said. “New father, already in love with a kid he hasn’t met yet, suddenly sees his wife as precious cargo instead of a woman with her own needs and desires.”

“So what, I’m just a vessel now for this baby?”

“No,” he said, firmly. “You’re still you. But he’s navigating something new. He’s terrified. And you’ve always been the strong one, so his instinct is to protect what he doesn’t understand.”

You were quiet for a moment. “And how do I deal with that?”

“Talk to him,” Langdon said simply. “Tell him you’re not made of glass. That being close, being touched, being wanted—it still matters. Pregnancy doesn’t erase who you are in the relationship. It just shifts the balance. He needs permission to stop treating you like you’re breakable.”

You nodded slowly. “And if he still hesitates?”

Langdon gave you a look. “Then you remind him who the hell you are.”

You laughed, tension breaking just a bit. “You’re not the worst at this, you know.”

Langdon reached for his coffee. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation.”

“Mel is really lucky to have you.”

He smiled gently. “Not as lucky as I am to have her.”

You stood. “Thank you.”

He looked up. “For what it’s worth, you two are solid. You’ll figure it out.”

You nodded again, already composing the conversation in your head. It wasn’t just about sex. It was about closeness. About not letting this new chapter turn into distance.

You grabbed your bag and stood slowly, a hand reflexively brushing your belly.

Jack appeared behind you, looping his fingers through yours. “Ready for our appointment?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Oh my god. I forgot about that.”

“That’s what you have me for.” He kissed your cheek.

As you walked out together, the ER faded behind you. There was no need to sneak out the back door to go upstairs to your OB. Basically the whole hospital knew you and Jack were expecting. News spread like wildfire once you told Dana, Mel, Robby and Langdon that they were allowed to tell whoever they wanted.

———————————————————————

16 Weeks - OB Appointment

The waiting room was quiet, bathed in that too-soft, too-warm light that always made you feel like you might accidentally fall asleep sitting up. 

You were still in your scrubs, badge clipped to your collar, shoes a little scuffed from twelve hours of trauma and chaos. 

Jack sat beside you, one leg bouncing restlessly. 

He nudged your knee. “You good?”

You nodded. “Just tired.”

“Want me to be quiet?”

You glanced at him. “You’re never quiet.”

Jack smirked but didn’t argue.

The nurse called your name, and you both stood. Jack’s hand instinctively found your back as you followed her down the hall. She didn’t comment on the way your steps slowed, or the way your eyes flicked toward the ultrasound machine.

“Hop up here,” she said gently. “The doctor will be in soon. We’ll take a listen first.”

You lay back, pulling up your scrub top just enough to expose the curve of your belly. The nurse squirted cold gel onto your skin and pressed the doppler into place.

It took a moment—one long, aching second—before you heard it, the whoosh-thump-whoosh-thump of a tiny, relentless heart.

Jack let out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His hand found yours without needing to look.

“Strong,” the nurse said, smiling. “Mid-150s. Baby’s happy to be in there.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden sting in your eyes. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Or maybe it was the way Jack was staring at the monitor like it held every answer to every question you hadn’t asked.

Then the doctor came in. “Vitals are great, weight is on track, and baby is measuring right on schedule. Any new symptoms?”

You hesitated. “Some weird pulling when I twist or stretch. Sleeping’s harder.”

“That’s normal—your uterus is growing, everything's are adjusting. Stay hydrated, rest when you can, and if it gets sharp or constant, page me.”

You cleared your throat. “Can I ask something?”

Jack looked at you sharply.

The doctor nodded. “Of course.”

You didn’t look at Jack. “Is it safe, you know to- to keep being intimate?”

He almost choked letting out a cough.

 “Absolutely. Unless your having complications—which you’re not—sex is totally safe. The baby’s protected by the uterus and amniotic fluid. It’s normal for things to feel different, emotionally or physically, but there’s no medical reason to stop unless either of you wants to.”

He stared at the ceiling, cheeks burning. Jack’s hand tightened around yours again.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

The doctor smiled at you both. “Just listen to each other. This is new territory, but you’re a team. You’ll figure it out.”

When he stepped out, the room was quiet again, save for the faint echo of that tiny heartbeat still ringing in your ears.

He turned his head toward you. “Didn’t see that coming”

You shrugged, sheepish. “I wanted to hear it from someone that’s an expert in this field.”

He laughed. “I needed to hear it too.”

Later That Night — At Home

The house was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of a lamp in the living room and the blue flicker of the TV. 

You came out of the bathroom in one of Jack’s old t-shirts and boxers, towel-drying your hair. He was on the couch, legs stretched out, wearing sweats and a t-shirt with the look of a man who hadn’t stopped thinking since that OB appointment.

You sat beside him, letting your weight lean into his. He immediately curled an arm around your shoulder.

Neither of you spoke for a while. You just breathed, syncing up with him again. 

Eventually, you murmured, “You were really quiet after I asked the doctor that question.”

Jack nodded. “Was just taking it all in I guess.”

You tilted your head toward him. “You’ve been scared around me. I guess I just thought our first week of together after the wedding would be us having sex everywhere and anywhere.”

“Yeah.” His voice was raw honesty. “You’ve been pushing through like nothing’s changed. But everything has. And I don’t want to be the reason something goes wrong.”

You touched his chest, over his heart. “Don’t be fragile with me here.”

Jack looked at you then, fully, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your face.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “And I didn’t know how to get back without hurting you.”

You took his hand and brought it to your belly. “We’re right here. Still me. Still us.”

He leaned in, forehead pressing to yours, like he’d been waiting all day to just be this close.

“We can go at whatever pace you want.”

“Jack, I’m growing a child, there’s are so many hormones flowing through my veins and these hormones are telling me that you need to have sex with me as much as you possibly can.”

“Tell me if something’s too much,” he said softly. “If anything feels wrong. I just- I want you to feel good. Wanted. Safe.”

You smiled. “I already do.”

The kiss started soft but, deepened quickly. Not rushed. Just full of need that had gone unsaid for too long.

His hands found your hips like he remembered them. You pulled him closer, needing that weight, that warmth, that certainty that came only from this—from him.

You climbed on top of him without hesitation. Your legs wrapped around him, his thumbs rubbed small, knowing circles just above your waistband. His tongue finding your mouth, swirling around yours. You lifted yourself around him, resting your bodyweight onto his lap.

He let out a soft groan. You adjusted yourself and felt his excitement growing underneath you. 

His hands now inside your shirt around your waist. You reached down to the hem of his sweatpants. He adjusted himself off the couch slightly, just barely giving you enough space to slide your hand into his boxers. 

“Ah fuck.” 

You wrapped your hand around his already solid cock, your thumb rubbing past his tip, already slick with precum. 

“Excited already…daddy?” You whispered, lips curling into a smirk. 

He let out a breathy laugh, but there was a softness in it—like this moment meant something more than just release. “Why don’t you keep going and I’ll let you know.” 

His hands left your hips and went above his head as you put your hand onto his chest. You other hand began to pump up and down on him. Firm enough to make him squirm underneath you. 

He was breathing hard and fast. His eyes closed with his head up to the ceiling. You could feel the veins on his cock pulsating in the grasp of you hand. 

His hands left your hips and rested above his head, giving you control. You placed your free hand on his chest, steadying yourself as your grip on him tightened. You began to stroke—slow, firm, deliberate.

He was breathing harder now. His jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling in quick succession. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, every pulse syncing with his shaky breaths.

You leaned in, your lips grazing his ear. “Cum for me, Daddy.”

“Fu—fuck, babygirl.” His body tensed beneath you, arching as his orgasm hit. You felt him spill over your hand—hot, sticky, desperate.

You stroked him through it, coaxing every last drop out of him. And when you were done, your hand slid out and came to your mouth, licking him off your fingers one by one, eyes locked on his.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed, brushing your hair back, his hands settling around your neck. “Clean up the mess you made.”

“Love how you taste in my mouth.” You grinned, collapsing beside him on the couch.

He put his hand on your thigh, stopping you from going any further. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Thought you needed a second before we do anything else.”

He nodded his head upwards. “Fuck that, get on top of me right now babygirl.”

He lifted up his hips up, pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles before sitting back down on the couch. 

You stood up off the couch, putting yourself directly in front of him. “Take them off.”

You lowered his boxers on you, red lace panties underneath. 

“Those too.” His eyes were dark, voice deep.

Panties hit the floor with you stepping out of them. His shirt the only piece of clothing still on your body, barely covering your lower half. 

“Come up here.” He tapped his thighs with both hands. 

You straddled him again, knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his legs. His hands gripped your waist under the shirt, tugging you closer. You framed his face with your hands and kissed him—hungry, messy, needing more.

He was hard again by the time your hips shifted just enough.

He grabbed himself with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance. He slid inside you in one long, perfect motion.

Your breath caught.

He filled you. Completely.

He pulled your body closer, lips crashing together. 

You rested for a moment, letting yourself adjust to his size inside of you. His hands moved to your lower back, holding you there, grounding both of you in the moment.

“God, baby,” he whispered against your collarbone. “You feel so fucking good.”

You breathed out shakily, forehead resting against his. “I needed this.”

“I know.” His thumbs followed the curve of your hips. “Me too.”

You rolled your hips—slow at first, savoring the way his breath caught, the way his eyes fluttered closed. The drag of him inside you was almost too much, but somehow not enough.

Your bodies moved together, falling into rhythm like muscle memory. 

“Look at me,” he said, voice rough and quiet.

And you listened.

He cupped your face with one hand, the other gripping your hip to guide your pace. There was nothing rushed about him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured. “Carrying our baby. Still wanting me to fuck you.”

Your heart swelled, throat tightening. You bit your bottom lip as you rocked against him harder, chasing that edge—but not just for the release.

His hands slipped up your back, under your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. His mouth found your chest, trailing kisses across your breasts, slow and open-mouthed, worshipful. You threaded your fingers through his silver curls, gasping when he sucked gently at your nipple.

“Jack—” His name broke in your throat.

“I’ve got you,” he said, kissing you again. “Let it go.”

You ground down harder, your body tightening, the heat building deep and fast now. He matched you thrust for thrust, his hips lifting up off the couch. 

“Cum for me,” he growled into your neck. “Let me feel you fall apart while I’m inside of you.”

Your climax hit fast and hard—hips bucking, breath caught, muscles clenching around him. You cried out his name as waves rolled through you, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He wasn’t far behind. His grip on you tightened, and with a low, groan, he spilled into you, pulling you down to him, chest to chest, heart to heart.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just held each other. Just breathed.

You rested your head against his, bodies slick and tangled and trembling.

“Fuck I missed this,” you whispered. “I missed us.”

Jack kissed your forehead, lips lingering. “We’re still us. Just more now.” He looked down at your stomach. 

You smiled into his skin. “Yeah. More.”

His hands settled over your belly, still resting inside you.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you, too.” You kissed him again—slow, deep, and full of all the things you couldn’t say out loud.

———————————————————————

18 Weeks

“So, been meaning to ask you, you guys doing any better now?”

“Oh, Lang, trust me you don’t wanna know how much better we’re doing.”

“Yeah, I really, really could’ve gone my whole life without seeing the look of your face right now.”

“Whatever, guess your advice worked.”

He lifted his coffee cup up in a salute. “My advice always works. Anyway aren’t you guys supposed to go look at a house later?”

Langdon perked up. “House hunting again? I thought you guys were getting burned out.”

“We are. We’ve looked at, like, fifteen places and nothing feels right. So I’m not getting my hopes up.”

He shrugged, easy and steady. “You’ll find it. That ‘oh, this is ours’ feeling. It shows up when you least expect it.”

You gave a half-smile. “You get surprisingly sentimental when you’re over caffeinated.”

He grinned. “Kid, I get sentimental when I care. And you two? You’re the real deal. Don’t settle for a house that doesn’t feel like it knows your names already.”

After Shift

The sun was at its highest point when you pulled up in front of the house. 

Jack was already waiting on the sidewalk, hands in his coat pockets, rocking on his heels. He gave a small wave when he saw you.

“This the one?” you asked as you stepped out, eyeing the house.

“Apparently,” he said, looking up at the place like it was a riddle he couldn’t quite solve. “Our agent said it just came back on the market this week.“

The exterior was older—white paint a little faded, porch railing crooked. But the windows were big, the trees in the yard were bare, leaves on the ground, and there was a creak in the front step that made you smile for no reason.

The agent greeted you at the door and waved you in with a soft “Take your time. Take it all in.”

You stepped inside—and something shifted.

It wasn’t flashy. The floors were original hardwood, scuffed in all the places that said someone lived here for a long time.The kitchen was dated, but the sunlight poured in like the house knew how to catch it.

Jack walked a few paces ahead of you, quiet. Not cautious—just thoughtful.

You followed him through the living room, past a fireplace that would need work, and into a small room tucked in the back.

You looked around—window facing the yard, soft echo from your footsteps on the floor. Small. Safe.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked over to the window and looked out into the overgrown backyard.

“I can see us here,” he said, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You stood next to him, shoulder against his. “Even with the popcorn ceilings?”

He smiled. “Especially with the popcorn ceilings. Definitely getting rid of those though.”

Jack followed close behind as you climbed the creaky stairs, your hand grazing the banister that could definitely use refinishing. 

At the top, the hallway narrowed. Three doors, slightly ajar.

You pushed open the first one. Small. Bright. The window faced east—you could already imagine morning light filling the crib, soft blankets folded over the chair you’d place in the corner.

Jack stepped beside you. “Definitely the nursery,” he said softly.

You moved to the second room. Bigger. The shape of a bed against the wall, dresser under the window, maybe a little chaos in the corners—Jack’s shoes, your half-read books.

“Our room,” you said.

He nodded, and then nudged the third door open with his foot. The last room.

Neither of you spoke as you stepped in. It was almost identical to the nursery—same creaky floorboard near the closet, same slanted ceiling that gave the space a little character. But this time, when you looked at it, you saw something different.

A twin bed. Toys on the floor. A sleepy toddler dragging a blanket behind them on a Sunday morning.

Jack moved behind you, his hands slipping onto your belly from behind, chin resting gently on your shoulder.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked quietly.

“I might be.”

“A second one?”

You turned your head toward him, half-smiling. “Too soon?”

Jack grinned. “Little bit. But not really.”

The baby kicked again—like he was chiming in.

You laughed. “You hear that? Your brother’s already opinionated.”

Jack kissed your shoulder, his voice warm against your skin. “Guess we’ll keep the extra room ready. Just in case.”

You both stood there a moment longer, wrapped in silence and the distant sounds of the old house settling around you.

———————————————————————

20 Weeks

Your next OB appointment. You didn’t remember this one either. Not that you needed to. Jack kept track of everything—dates, vitamins, test results. He was your living, breathing calendar.

This appointment you wanted go over your birth plan. 

“Of course. Let’s talk about what’s important to you. Any specific preferences? Vaginal delivery? Epidural? Who you want in the room?”

You looked at Jack first. He gave you the tiniest nod, that quiet go-ahead he always gave when the decision was yours, and he’d back you no matter what.

“I’d like to try for a vaginal delivery,” you said. “And I want an epidural, if I don’t need to feel all the pain, I don’t want to.”

The doctor made a note of it. “Totally fair. Birth doesn’t always go according to plan, but we’ll make sure you feel supported every step of the way.”

“And I’ll be there,” Jack added, like it wasn’t even a question. His voice was steady, but there was something in the way he said it. You reached for his hand without thinking, and he took yours immediately.

The OB smiled again. “Husband in the room. Got it. Anyone else?”

“No, just him. No matter how much anybody else wants to come in, I need them to stay in the waiting room, unless they need to drag jack out of the room for freaking out too much.”

“Which is a very real possibility.”

“Got it. Any thoughts on interventions? Vacuum, forceps, C-section if needed?”

You hesitated. That part scared you more than you liked to admit. But Jack squeezed your hand before you could answer.

“I’d like to avoid a C-section unless absolutely necessary,” you said. “Same with everything else, if possible of course. But do whatever you have to.”

“Completely reasonable. We’ll aim for low intervention, high support. I’ll note that flexibility is key. How long are you planning on staying at work?”

“As long as I can.”

You didn’t need to look at Jack to know that he was shaking his head.

“All up to you. If you want a note that you need to stop working let me know. It’s yours whenever you need.”

You exhaled slowly. It felt like you were drawing the map for a trip you couldn’t see yet but, at least now, the path had a shape.

The rest of the night was spent relaxing before your next shift. Going over your plan with Jack again. And getting some much needed sleep before work.

That night, between cases and chaos, you caught him just as he was sitting down to chart. 

“Hey, um—can I talk to you really quick?”

His head snapped toward you, brows pulling in. “Yeah. What happened?” His hand went straight to your belly.

You placed your hand gently over his. “The baby’s fine. Perfect, actually. I just...need to show you something.”

You held out your hand, fingers beckoning. Jack narrowed his eyes, voice softening. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

You smirked. “Don’t worry about it.”

You tugged him into the empty on call room, backing up until your spine met the wall.

His eyes darted around the space. “What are we doing in here?”

“Everything,” you whispered, grabbing the front of his scrubs and pulling him in close. “I need you right now, Jack.”

He hesitated only a beat, eyes going toward the door. Then he sighed, low and hungry.

“Well, if we’re doing this here...” His hand slipped away from your waist. “At least let me lock the god damn door first.”

The soft click of the lock was the only warning before you reached for your waistband, untying your scrub pants. Your top hiked up slightly, revealing the curve of your belly.

Jack’s eyes darkened as his hand found your stomach.

“God, you look so fucking good,” he murmured, voice rough. “Carrying my baby. Still this desperate for me to be inside of you.”

His hand moved lower, cupping you over your panties. “Fuck. You’re soaked already.”

“All for you,” you whispered.

His thumb pressed through the fabric, slow and deliberate.

“Ja-Jack,” you gasped, shifting your hips into his hand. “Please. I need your fingers inside me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He slid your panties aside, two fingers running along your folds—slow, teasing strokes that sent electricity racing through your core. He dipped just enough to coat his fingers in you, but not enough to satisfy.

Then, finally, he pushed inside.

You bit down on your lip, head falling back against the wall.

His other hand came up fast, covering your mouth.

“Shhh,” he whispered in your ear. “Quiet, babygirl. Don’t want anyone knowing how fucking filthy you get for me.”

Your hands searched behind you, gripping for anything to brace yourself. The angle. The pressure. The thickness of his fingers curling just right. 

Moans broke from your throat, muffled against his palm.

He moved faster, deeper. Fingers fucking you with practiced precision while his thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit.

Your body started to quake.

“Look at you,” he growled. “Falling apart on my fingers. My perfect girl. My perfect mommy.”

Your eyes rolled back as the orgasm slammed into you—white-hot, unexpected, unstoppable.

You shook against him, clinging to his arm as your legs threatened to give out.

Jack held you upright, never letting go, fingers slowly easing out as he kissed your temple.

Still breathless, you whispered against his shoulder, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not a chance. You’re carrying my whole world in there.”

Jack pulled his fingers from you slowly, like he hated to let go.

You were still trembling, thighs pressed together, leaning against him for balance as he gently fixed your panties back into place.

“Fuck,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your temple. “You okay?”

You nodded, eyes glassy, breath still uneven. “Yeah, yeah Just don’t think I can walk back out there yet.”

He chuckled, low and quiet. “You’re gonna have to. I’m not carrying you back to the nurse’s station with your legs like jelly and my cum on your thighs.”

You smacked his chest, trying not to laugh.

A sound. The unmistakable knock on the door.

Both of you froze.

Then came a voice—muffled but unmistakable.

“Hey, Abbott you in there? We got a GSW coming in 5!”

Dana.

Jack’s eyes went wide. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the nervous laugh bubbling up.

He mouthed fuck and motioned silently for you to stay put while he moved toward the door.

“Yeah, one second” he called, voice a little too casual.

In one smooth motion, he straightened his scrubs, cleared his throat, unlocked the door—and stepped out.

“Sorry,” he said to Dana, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s go?”

Dana blinked at him, skeptical. “You’re sweating. You okay?”

Jack smiled. “Yeah just- just wanted to grab a quick nap. You know how these rooms get, pretty stuffy in there.”

You could hear the forced calm in his voice, and it made your cheeks burn.

Dana glanced past him, trying to peer into the room. “You in there alone?”

Jack blocked the door slightly with his body. “Yup. Just me.”

A beat passed. Then she raised an eyebrow.

“You seen your wife?” Dana asked. “She just kinda disappeared. Gonna need her for this one too.”

“Bathroom, I think,” he said smoothly. “You know, gotta pee all the time when you’re pregnant.”

Dana made a face. “Ugh. Say no more.”

Jack waited until she turned down the hallway before he exhaled and slipped back into the room, shutting the door behind him again—quietly this time.

You were still against the wall, lips parted in disbelief. “Did we seriously just almost get caught by Dana?”

He grinned. “We absolutely got caught by Dana.”

You stared at him, then burst out laughing—quiet and breathless and wild.

“I can’t believe you just lied to her face like that.”

Jack leaned in, hands braced on either side of your head. “I’d do a hell of a lot more than lie to protect this.” His voice dropped low.

Your laughter faded into something softer. More vulnerable. You reached up and brushed a thumb along his jaw.

“Next time,” you whispered, “we pick a room that doesn’t echo.”

He kissed you, slow and lingering.

“I’m already looking forward to next time.”

“Oh, you’ll get a next time. I’ll make sure of it.”

———————————————————————

22 Weeks

Just four weeks after looking at the house, you two were moving in. Everyone had been helping. Everyone.

People constantly at the apartment helping you pack things into boxes. Robby and Langdon going to the store with Jack to pick up all the furniture you wanting for the house. Dana, Collins, and Mel helping you find the perfect decor.

And now here you stood in the middle of your new living room, surrounded by cardboard boxes and the faint smell of old wood and fresh paint.

Jack was upstairs, wrestling a dresser up the narrow hallway, swearing under his breath in the gentlest way possible. You could hear the dull thud of a drawer sliding out, followed by the scrape of furniture against the banister.

Your hand rested on your belly. Twenty-two weeks. So close, yet so far.

You turned slowly in a circle, trying to decide which box to open first. The one labeled KITCHEN – FRAGILE stared back at you like a challenge. You ignored it and went for the one marked BOOKS – LIVING ROOM.

Jack thumped down the stairs a minute later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Okay,” he said, out of breath. “I don’t care what the listing said, that hallway is not ‘spacious.’”

You grinned. “You got it up there, though?”

“Barely. I think it’s staying with the house when we die.”

You sat on the arm of the couch, letting the stretch in your lower back ease out. “I was going to start on the books.”

Jack glanced at the box. “Start with the ones we never read but pretend we did. Those can go on the living room shelves.”

He crossed the room to you and crouched down, one hand brushing against your knee, the other settling on your belly. “How’s he doing?”

You shrugged. “Chattier than usual. I think he likes the noise.”

“Or he’s already judging our furniture arrangement.”

You looked around. The couch was at an awkward angle, the coffee table hadn’t made it in yet, and you still hadn’t decided if the painting from your old apartment belonged anywhere in this new place.

It was chaos, but it was yours.

Jack leaned his head against your leg. “We’re really doing this,” he said, quieter now. “This whole thing. House. Baby. All of it.”

You ran your fingers through his silver hair. “We are.”

You felt home.

——————————————————

24 Weeks 

Your belly had rounded out more noticeably now. Jack couldn’t keep his hands—or his eyes—off of. Even during the most chaotic shifts, he found a way to check in: a hand on your lower back, a squeeze to your palm during charting, the kind of quiet glances that spoke louder than words.

You were 24 weeks today, at work while he was at home. Hopefully putting together more furniture that had just come in.

He texted you during rounds. “24 weeks. Viable. Our little one could make it of their own now.”

That night, it stormed. The kind of downpour that made traffic impossible, left sirens echoing too often, and made everything feel a little more raw.

You came home late, soaked and silent. Too tired to cook. Too wired to sleep.

Jack was the one who finally said it, after hours of half-watching some muted show from the couch.

“Come here.”

You were already next to him, but he opened his arms like he meant it—like he needed more.

You crawled into his lap, careful of your belly. He cradled you against him, one hand on your thigh, the other curved protectively around your stomach.

“The baby kicked earlier today,” you whispered into the crook of his neck.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to wait until it was just us.”

His expression softened. He brought both hands to your belly now, thumbs brushing side to side like he was trying to feel her through will alone.

And then, like magic, another kick.

His face lit up like he’d been handed the universe.

You nodded, and he exhaled the kind of breath people only release when they’re holding too much love at once.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with something I haven’t even met.”

You leaned forward and kissed him—soft and slow.

Your hand slid under his shirt, fingers tracing the planes of his chest. His lips moved against yours like a promise.

He lifted your shirt carefully,, until your belly was exposed.

Then he sank to his knees in front of you on the couch, lips brushing against the stretch of skin just above your navel.

“Hi baby,” he whispered. “It’s Daddy. You keep growing strong in there, okay? I’ll take care of her out here.”

You blinked back sudden tears, heart too full, body aching with love and something deeper.

He looked up at you, reading your expression instantly.

“C’mere,” he said softly, rising to his feet. 

“Let me take care of you, too.”

———————————————————————

26 Weeks

The nursery didn’t look like much yet—just a pile of boxes, a folded-up rug, and the smell of fresh paint still lingering faintly in the air. You stood in the doorway with a mug of chamomile tea, watching Jack wrestle with the instructions for the crib.

You stepped inside, careful over the half-unrolled rug, and knelt beside him. “Want me to read while you build?”

“God, yes. I’ve been pretending this part makes sense for twenty minutes.”

You took the manual, flipping through to the page with the exploded diagram. “Step one says attach Panel A to Side B using bolt type—wait, why are there three types of bolts?”

Jack looked at you like he might cry. “They’re identical, I swear.”

You laughed, and he softened at the sound, reaching to squeeze your knee. “Don’t laugh at the father of your child in his hour of need.”

“I’m laughing with you.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Not yet.”

You handed him the correct bolts—probably—and settled beside him, your back leaning against the wall. 

You watched as he slowly pieced the frame together, getting into a rhythm. The room felt warm, despite the January air outside. You two had basically ignored the holidays with everything else going on.

The walls were pale blue now—soft and quiet.

Jack slid one of the sides into place, then sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Oh god, it’s done,” he declared.

“Certified by the ER doc?”

“I’ll get it notarized.”

You looked around. The rocking chair was still in the box. The mobile was still in the bag. There were folded baby clothes in a laundry basket in the hall, waiting for a dresser you hadn’t found yet.

But the crib was up.

Jack sat beside you, his shoulder against yours, both of you looking at it like it had just made something real that wasn’t quite real before.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, voice low.

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Just hitting me a little.”

“What part?”

You took a breath, exhaled slowly. “That there’s going to be a baby sleeping in that crib soon.”

Jack looked over at you, and his expression softened into something you’d seen a thousand times but never got tired of. That quiet, steady awe he reserved just for you.

“Our baby,” Jack said. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “You think we’ll be any good at this?”

“I think we’ll be tired. And messy. And figuring it out every day. But yeah.” He kissed the side of your head. “I think we’ll be pretty damn good.”

You closed your eyes for a second, letting the weight of the moment settle.

“You know,” Jack said, voice casual, “we still haven’t settled on a name.”

You smiled. “We’ve ruled out a lot, though.”

“That counts for something.”

Jack looked over at you. “Okay, so what do you like?”

You hesitated, watching the light from the window spill across the floor. “I keep thinking about names that sound solid. Not trendy. A name that would be good for when he’s an adult trying to get a job.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully. “I still like Wesley for a boy.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah. That one can stay on the list. Even though you heard it on TV somewhere and it has no meaning to us”

“It’ll have meaning once theyr'e here.” He turned his head toward you. 

“I think it kicked just now, maybe it is a boy after all,” you whispered, one hand on your belly.

Jack moved to kneel in front of you, resting his palm gently over yours.

“You like that one, huh?” he said to your stomach, smiling.

You both sat with it for a minute in silence. It was the kind that stretched and softened between people who knew how to share it.

“So Wesley for a first name or middle name?” Jack sat up, crossed his legs. “Do we honor someone? Or do we just pick something that sounds good?”

You shrugged. “We still have a couple weeks. I’m sure something will come to us by then.”

Jack looked up at you, eyes soft. You reached for his hand, and together, you sat there, naming the future, one piece at a time.

———————————————————————

28 Weeks

You hadn’t planned on finding out.

At first, it was just going to be a surprise. Something you’d discover together in the delivery room, sweaty and overwhelmed and crying. But over time, the not-knowing started to weigh heavier than expected.

Jack never pushed. But you caught him daydreaming from time to time, talking to your bump in quiet moments, cycling through baby names. Jack had a strong feeling you were carrying his son. Only talked about boy names.

So when your OB offered to write it down in a sealed envelope, you nodded without hesitating.

You didn’t want to open it. Until tonight.

“I want to know,” you said softly, sliding the envelope across the kitchen counter to Jack. “If you still do.”

He looked up from where he was getting dinner ready, eyes wide. 

“You sure?”

You nodded, pulse already racing.

He wiped his hands on a towel, drying them carefully before picking it up.

“You open it,” you said.

“No,” he said gently, “I want to see your face when you find out.”

Your chest tightened. Hands trembling just slightly, you broke the seal. You unfolded the single piece of paper.

And read the word.

BOY.

It didn’t hit you all at once.

Then Jack stepped around the counter, reading it over your shoulder.

And everything stopped.

He laughed—but it broke halfway through, a sound caught between disbelief and something close to a sob. He pressed his forehead to yours, arms wrapping around your waist and belly in one movement.

“A boy,” he whispered. “We’re having a son.”

You laughed too, and suddenly the tears came fast. 

Jack held your face in his hands. 

“A son,” he said again, voice. “I swear I’m going to love the hell out of this kid.”

You ran your hands through his hair, brushing it back from his face as his eyes stayed locked on your belly.

“I think he already knows,” you said.

Jack looked up at you, eyes glassy. “He’s going to know everything. Every day. How much we love him. How much he’s wanted.”

And for the first time in weeks, the future didn’t feel so far away.

———————————————————————

32 Weeks 

Your schedule had barely lined up with Jacks in the past couple weeks. But once it did, Jack had plans for you two. 

The night went on, chaos as usual. Until 4AM. 

He caught your eye in the hallway—just a glance, but you knew that look.

You had just sat down to eat a quick snack when he appeared behind you, voice low, warm against your ear.

“Follow me.”

You glanced around. “Jack—”

He turned, walking away like he hadn’t just whispered something that set your skin on fire.

You followed him anyway.

The on-call room door clicked shut behind you a moment later. The lights were off. Jack didn’t turn them on.

He just backed you against the wall with a hand on your belly and a kiss that made time stop.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured against your mouth. “You’re happy. Glowing. Carrying our son.”

His hands slipped under your scrubs.  One slid around to the small of your back, the other resting protectively over your bump.

“I love how you say our son,” you whispered, already breathless.

“Say it again?”

You smiled. “Our son.”

His hand dipped between your legs without hesitation, cupping the heat he knew was waiting for him.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he groaned. “You’re always so ready for me.”

He lifted you onto the edge of the nightstand, working fast but careful. 

Your legs parted, scrubs halfway down, his mouth on your neck, hand moving between your thighs until your head hit the wall behind you.

“Quiet,” he whispered. “You know these walls are paper thin.”

“Then don’t make me moan,” you shot back, voice thick with want.

His grin was wicked. “No promises.”

He dropped to his knees and disappeared between your legs, and all you could do was bite your knuckle and hope the shift stayed quiet five more minutes.

Jack’s tongue dragged through your folds like he was memorizing you all over again.

Slow. Deep. Obsessive.

Your thighs trembled around his shoulders, your hands gripping the edge of the cot so tightly your knuckles ached.

“Jack—” You breathed his name like a warning.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow.

His tongue circled your clit with precision while his fingers slipped inside you, curling up at just the right angle. 

It was too much yet somehow not nearly enough.

You came hard and fast, biting back a cry as your body arched.

He stayed with you the whole way, holding your hips, riding out every pulse of your orgasm like he wanted to feel it himself.

By the time you opened your eyes, he was already standing, undoing his scrub pants with one hand, eyes locked on you like he might not survive another second without being inside you.

“Turn around,” he said, voice rough and ragged.

You obeyed, turning to face the wall, breath still uneven.

He slid into you slowly, deep and the sound that came out of both of you was pure relief.

“God, you feel so fucking good around my cock babygirl.” he groaned.

Your forehead pressed to the wall, mouth open, body rocking back to meet his every thrust.

“Harder,” you whispered. “I can take it daddy.”

He gave you what you asked for. Each stroke slamming into that sweet spot inside you, his body hot and heavy behind yours, his rhythm fast and hungry.

“You’re mine,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “My wife. The mother of my child. My whole fucking world.”

You pushed back into him harder, chasing that edge again.

“Then don’t stop,” you gasped. “Show me.”

And he did.

The pleasure built fast. Frantic and unstoppable. You reached between your legs, fingers circling your clit.

“Ja-Jack—”

“Fuck, I’m close.”

“I’m gonna—”

You came together, your body clenching around him, his hips jerking deep inside as he spilled into you.

The only sound in the room was your breathing, shaky and uneven.

He leaned over you, still buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck.

“Get dressed before someone…

A knock at the door made you both freeze.

“Hey!” came Robby’s voice. “Tell me you’re not doing what I know you’re doing in there!”

Jack groaned and dropped his head into your shoulder, chuckling.

“One minute!,” he whispered. He pulled out of you slowly. “Worth it.”

Since this had become somewhat of a habit, Jack had towels ready to clean himself off of you.

You tried to walk out first. Tried to act like it was just another on-call nap.

But you didn’t even make it to the nurse’s station before the ambush.

Robby stood with a cup of coffee in hand, leaned against the counter with the same smug look he wore anytime he caught anyone doing something even almost against the rules.

“You two owe me new ears,” he said flatly. “And a therapy session.”

Dana, sitting beside him, didn’t look up from her chart. “At least pretend to be subtle next time. We have patients trying to survive, and you two are in there giving the walls a show.”

You felt Jack step up behind you, his hand finding your lower back as always.

“We were gone maybe twenty minutes,” he said.

Dana finally looked up. “You were gone forty-five minutes. And you walked out looking like you just finished a marathon.”

Jack grinned unapologetically. “Best forty-five minutes of my life.”

“Yeah, we all know that wasn’t the first time.” Said Robby while rolling his eyes.

Langdon appeared from around the corner, perfectly deadpan. “If HR asks, I didn’t hear a thing. But if I ever get stuck in that on-call room, I’ll just sleep outside instead.”

You groaned and buried your face in Jack’s shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you like a shield. “Hey, she needed a break. Doctor’s orders.”

Robby snorted. “Oh yeah? Was the baby involved in that medical necessity?”

Jack didn’t miss a beat. “He approved.”

That brought everything to a halt.

Dana’s eyes widened. “He?”

You blinked, cheeks warming. “Yeah. We decided to open the envelope.”

Langdon raised a brow. “So the orgasm was celebratory?”

You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Can we please change the subject?”

Too late. Dana stood, walking around the counter to hug you with a wide grin.

“A boy,” she said warmly. “God help us all.”

Jack leaned in and kissed the side of your head, completely unbothered by the teasing. And for a moment—amid the chaos, sarcasm, and inappropriate comments, it felt like everything was exactly how it should be.

“Hey, you ready to head home?”

“Yeah, I just need to talk to Robby first. Should be quick.”

“Glad you’re finally taking your time away from here.”

You went to Robbys office where Collins was sitting inside talking to him.

“Hey, you mind if I steal your husband for a couple of minutes?”

“He’s all yours.” As she was walking past you, she put her hand on your growing stomach. “Hey there baby boy!”

You stepped inside and shut the door. “Ugh, this back pain is going to have me admitted soon enough.”

He nodded and gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit. Talk to me kid. Whats going on?"

You lowered yourself into the chair slowly—thirty-two weeks in, and even basic everything came with sound effects now.

Robby leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “How you feeling?”

“Tired. Hungry. Nervous.”

He nodded. “So, business as usual.”

You cracked a smile. “I- I wanted to get started the paperwork for maternity leave.”

Robby didn’t say anything for a second, just looked at you. Not with surprise, he knew it was coming.

“When are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’ll think I want to work up to 36 or 37 weeks, depending on how I’m feeling. 

“Think that’s a good idea. How long do you want after?”

“Well I think that 12 weeks would be good enough but, Jack wants me to take 6 months.”

“If you take 3 months or 6 months, you’ll always have a place here.”

There was a quiet moment. He scratched something on a notepad, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “You know it’s going to be weird here without you.”

“Don’t worry, you’d have to physically drag me out of here to keep me from coming back after.”

“I know.” He gave a faint smile. “Still going to be weird.”

You shrugged. “You’ll have Jack. He’ll keep you in line.”

Robby snorted. “Jack barely keeps Jack in line.”

“Yeah about Jack actually.” Your tone became more serious. “He’s just been so anxious recently, you know all the baby stuff and now the house and work. I- I need to know that if something goes wrong during delivery…if something happens to me…” You took a deep breath. “You’ll take care of Jack.”

Robby didn’t move. For a long second, he just stared at you. Then he leaned forward, slow and steady, until his arms rested on the desk in front of him. “You think he wouldn’t be taken care of?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s not—he’d survive. Of course. But he’d fall apart first. And he wouldn't let anyone see it. Not even Dana. Not even Langdon. Not anybody. He’d keep working. He’d try to act like he was okay, and it would eat him alive.”

Robby sat back slowly, his face unreadable. Then he spoke, and his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “You think I haven’t already thought about that?”

You blinked.

“I’ve known Jack for too long,” he said. “Watched him lose patients. Watched him get in fights. Watched him fall in love with you so fast it scared the hell out of me.” He let out a dry breath. “I’ve already thought about what I’d do. I just hoped I’d never need to.”

“I know it’s unlikely,” you said, more to yourself than to him. “But things go wrong. Even when they’re not supposed to.”

He nodded slowly. “You’ve been on both sides of the trauma bay. You know better than anyone.”

The room went quiet for a long time.

Then Robby leaned forward again, lacing his fingers on the desk.

“If something happens,” he said, “I’ll take care of him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t drown in it. I’ll bring him home. I’ll put food in his fridge and get him to shower and tell him he’s not okay, and that’s fine. I’ll do all of that. As many times as it takes.”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging.

“But,” Robby added, “You don’t get to disappear on us. You hear me?”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

“I mean it. You’re allowed to be scared. But you don’t get to check out. Not if I’ve got a say in it.”

You nodded, brushing at the corner of your eye.

Robby stood and came around the desk. For a second, he just looked at you—like a brother would. Then he reached down and pulled you into a hug, careful of your belly but not at all careful with his heart.

“I got you,” he murmured. “Both of you.”

And for the first time in weeks, your breath felt like it reached all the way down into your chest again.

You let the silence settle for a beat, eyes drifting to the framed photo on Robby’s desk— a picture of Collins and their child at the beach, sand stuck to their legs, wide grins that didn’t care about sunscreen or the time.

He caught your gaze. “It changes everything you know. Having a kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ll be good at it, though. Both of you.”

You blinked a little too fast and looked down at your hands. “We’re trying to figure it out.”

“You don’t have to know everything yet. You just have to show up.” He paused, then added, “That kid’s already luckier than most.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded. Let the words sink in.

Robby cleared his throat and reached for a folder. “I’ll email you the HR packet. We’ll work out the schedule. You just tell me if anything changes, okay?”

You stood, placing a hand on your belly with a small smile. “Thanks, Robby.”

As you turned to leave, he added, “Hey.”

You looked back.

“If I hear even one more thing about you and Jack using that on-call room like a honeymoon suite, I’m locking it from the outside.”

You laughed. “Deal.”

And as you stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you, you felt a little lighter. 

One step closer to meeting your son.

———————————————————————

34 Weeks

Jack stood alone at the supply cart, restocking syringes with mechanical precision. The rhythm of it was almost meditative.

Robby found him there, hands in his jacket pockets, lingering like someone who had something to say and didn’t quite know how to start.

“Glad she took the night off.”

“Yeah she spent the whole day throwing up, almost had to bring her here as a patient. But she’s okay now, just needs to rest for a couple days.”

“You think she’ll make it to 36 weeks here?”

“For the baby’s sake, I hope not. But knowing her and her stubbornness, she will."

Robby leaned against the wall, silent for a moment. “She came to see me 2 weeks ago.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly. “About the maternity leave?”

“Yeah,” Robby said. “But not just that.”

Jack set the last syringe into place and shut the drawer. “Okay?”

Robby watched him for a second. “She asked me to take care of you.”

Jack stilled.

“She said if something happens, during delivery, if so…meshing happens to her, she wants to make sure you’re not alone.”

The silence stretched between them.

Jack didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just stared at the closed drawer like it could explain something.

Robby stepped forward, lowering his voice. “She’s scared, Jack. Not of being a mom. Not even of labor, I don’t think. But of what it would do to you if something went wrong.”

Jack’s jaw clenched. He nodded once, like that was all he could allow himself.

“I told her I’d look out for you,” Robby said. “I told her I already planned to.”

Jack finally looked up. His eyes weren’t wet, but they were close. “She shouldn’t be thinking about that.”

“She’s a doctor. A damn good one. She knows the risks. Seen more than anyone should have to.”

“I know, I know.” His voice was rough, low. “I just- I don’t want her scared.”

“She’s not scared of dying,” Robby said gently. “She’s scared of leaving you. It’s not the same thing.”

Jack looked down again, rubbed a hand over his face. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, quietly: “You’ll keep your word?”

Robby didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I will.”

Another pause.

“I can’t lose her Robby,” Jack whispered. “I won’t make it.”

Robby put a hand on his shoulder, solid and sure. “You’re not going to.”

Jack nodded, slow. Then rubbed both hands over his face again, this time with more force—like he could scrub the fear off.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Robby let his hand fall away. “Just- when she needs you to act calm, act calm. And when she needs you to panic a little? Panic with her.”

Jack cracked a faint smile. “You give this speech to every soon-to-be dad?”

“Only the ones who might implode if things go sideways.”

Jack smirked, barely, but it was there. “Fair enough.”

They stood there a minute longer both carrying more than they said.

And then, like always, they went back to work.

Except now he pulled every OB resident he trusted into side conversations. Asked about signs of hemorrhage. About shoulder dystocia. About NICU protocols and what really happens when things don’t go as planned.

He framed it like curiosity, like professional interest—but Dana knew, and Langdon knew, and Robby definitely knew.

———————————————————————

36 Weeks

You were exhausted. Sitting at home all day wore you out more than you ever thought it would.

The kind of exhausted that made you feel like everything in your body was weighing you down. 

Thirty-six weeks. You’d stopped counting days. But Jack still looked at you like you were the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.

Which, at this moment, made you feel like you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You were lying on your side in bed, a hand resting protectively over your belly, when he came in from his morning shower. Damp hair. Bare chest. Sleepy smile.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, eyes flicking to your bump. “Need anything?”

You looked up at him, slow and deliberate. “Yeah actually,” you said softly. “I need you.”

He crawled into bed beside you, careful as always, hand coming to rest on your thigh. 

“What kind of need are we talking here?”

You shifted, moved with deliberate slowness, until you were kneeling between his legs. Belly full and round between you. 

His eyes widened—concerned first, then darkening quickly as he realized where this was going.

“Babygirl, are you sure ? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want you. But you’ve just been so tired lately.”

You looked up at him. “Let me take care of you.”

He swallowed hard. His cock was already twitching in his boxers, barely hidden. 

You pulled his waistband down, freeing him. 

Thick and heavy, already hard in your hand. You kissed his tip first, slow and soft, tasting his precum.

He groaned immediately, hips twitching. “Fuck.”

You took him into your mouth, just the head at first, letting your tongue swirl around.

His hand found your hair, gentle, never pushing, never rushing.

“You’re so good at this my dirty girl,” he murmured. “God, baby, you don’t have to…”

You went deeper, and he lost the rest of the sentence.

You worked him with your mouth, your hand wrapped around the base, moving in slow tandem with your tongue. He was unraveling beneath you, every sound he made proof of how much he needed this, needed you.

He brushed your hair back, groaning your name. “I’m close,” he warned. “You want me to?”

You pulled back just far enough to say, “In my mouth, Jack. I want all of it.”

That was all it took.

He came, hips bucking once, his hot release spilling onto your tongue. You kept going, gentle, milking him through it until he was panting, eyes glazed over like he’d just saw heaven.

When you finally sat back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, he looked up at you like you’d just knocked the breath out of him.

“So me babygirl. Show me what I gave you.”

He sat up, looking directly into your eyes. You opened your mouth, his cum spilling out of the corners. With his thumb, he guided his seed back into your mouth until you sucked on his thumb. Getting every last drop of him. 

“Swallow me.” 

And you did. 

“I do not deserve you,” he whispered.

You smiled, easing back beside him. “You really, really do.”

He pulled you close after that, one hand on your belly, the other tangled in your fingers.

“Just remind me to return the favor,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You smirked. “You’ve got four weeks, daddy.”

And Jack? He looked ready to make every one of them count.

��——————————————————————

37 Weeks

Jack didn’t make a big deal out of the due date. He didn’t talk about it much, didn’t circle it on a calendar or start any countdown. But you knew he was keeping track. He always kept track.

You started noticing the little things first. How your car’s gas tank was always full. How your overnight bag slowly filled itself, snacks, chargers, an extra hoodie he never wore but packed anyway because you liked it. 

He just did it. All of it without you ever saying anything.

Sometimes you’d catch him in the nursery at night. Not doing anything, just standing there. One hand on the crib rail, eyes tracing the space like he was rehearsing something he couldn’t quite say out loud.

He rewired the baby monitor so it reached farther. Tested it three times. Installed a soft nightlight in the hallway, not because you needed it, but because he couldn’t stand the idea of fumbling in the dark if something happened.

There was a checklist in his notebook. Not digital—written by hand. Folded neatly in half and kept in his back pocket when he came home from work.

Jack didn’t talk about fear. He didn’t talk about worst-case scenarios, or about what could go wrong. But when you reached for his hand at night, his fingers were already waiting.

One evening, you found him sitting on the floor beside the crib, tightening one of the screws even though it didn’t need it. You leaned against the doorframe and watched.

“You think he’ll like it?” you asked quietly.

Jack looked up at you. Nodded. “Yeah. I think he will.”

You didn’t say anything. You just put your hand over his.

———————————————————————

38 Weeks 

You were done waiting. Having your baby in April felt nice. 

Every step felt heavier. Every hour dragged. 

Thirty-eight weeks, swollen and aching, and somehow still wanting him inside you more than ever.

Jack had been hovering since you took the first test. 

You came into the bedroom after your shower, towel slung around your waist, damp hair curling at the edges. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hand resting instinctively over your firm your belly.

“Hey,” he said softly, already reading the look in your eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “But I need you to help me.”

He crossed the room quickly, crouching in front of you. “What’s wrong?”

You leaned forward, lips brushing his ear. “I need you to fuck me again.”

He pulled back slightly, eyebrows raised, lips parting. “You serious?”

“I’ve read every myth and midwife blog I could find. Sex helps induce labor. And if this baby’s ready, I am, too.”

This wasn’t just sex. It was trust. It was the both of you saying: Let’s do this. Let’s meet our son.

He stood to meet you at the edge of the bed. 

You lay back on the bed, shifting carefully, hips wide to make space for everything you were carrying. He climbed over you like he’d done it a thousand times but, this was different.

His hands trailed down your sides, reverent. His eyes never left yours.

“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he murmured.

“Only thing that feels wrong is not having you inside of me fucking me into labor.”

That pulled a groan from his throat.

He knelt between your legs, guiding himself into you slowly, carefully. You were wetter than you’d expected. Desperate.

“God,” he whispered as he slid in. “You feel incredible.”

You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling full and stretched and grounded. 

Every movement was slow at first, deeper than fast.

Jack bent to kiss you, moaning into your mouth as your hips rolled up to meet him.

“You good, babygirl?”

“Better than good. Don’t stop, daddy.”

And he didn’t.

He moved like he was trying to memorize your body one last time before everything changed. His hands on your belly, his forehead pressed to yours, soft grunts against your skin.

Then suddenly—your body tightened.

Not in pleasure. But in pressure.

You gasped, hand flying to your stomach. 

“Jack—”

He stopped instantly. “What? What is it? Did I hurt you?”

“No—no. I thi- I think that might have been a contraction.”

He blinked, his entire body going still. Still inside you. “Like a real one?”

Another one followed, sharper. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s definitely real.”

Jack pulled out gently, panic and awe crashing over his face. “Okay. Okay, baby—uh—do we call the OB? You want to go now?”

You grabbed his wrist, eyes locked on his. “Jack. Finish what you started.”

His mouth dropped open. “You still want..”

“I’m not in active labor yet. Might as well fuck me until I am.”

He laughed, full and loud, and kissed you hard.

“Well,” he muttered against your lips, guiding himself back in, “if my son wants to arrive in style.”

And with that, you rode wave after wave—of contractions, of pleasure, of something sacred and wild and absolutely yours.

By the time the next contraction hit, you were already moaning into his neck.

And your labor had officially begun.

———————————————————————

Jack’s hand never left yours during the car ride, one on the wheel with one hand, gripping yours with the other. The go-bag was already in the car with everything you could need while in the hospital. Plus more.

You were timing the contractions on your phone, trying to breathe through them, but they were coming faster now. Five minutes apart. Then four.

By the time he pulled into the hospital lot, you were doubled over in the passenger seat.

“Fuck,” you hissed, clenching his hand. “That one hurt.”

Jack threw the car into park and jumped out, rushing around to your door.

“Okay, let’s go. Slow and steady.”

You were halfway to the entrance when a voice called out—

“Hey, that looks like an ‘I just had sec and now I’m in labor’ face.” Robby. Of course.

Jack just flipped him off without breaking stride. “Call OB, she’s in labor. Now.”

Dana was at the triage desk when you walked in, her eyes wide.

“Whoa, whoa—are you…?”

“Yep,” you gasped. “Contractions. Thirty-eight weeks. We’re about to have a baby.”

She jumped up from her chair. “Got it. OB’s on call. We’ll page them. You need a wheelchair?”

“No,” you gritted out. “I can walk—”

Another contraction hit, and your knees buckled slightly. Jack caught you with both arms. 

“You’re not walking anywhere,” he muttered, already lowering you into a chair someone had wheeled over. “I’ve got you.”

The elevator ride was a blur. Someone shouted “incoming labor!” over the intercom, and by the time the doors opened on L&D, a nurse was already waiting with a gown and a monitor.

Dana, Robby, and Langdon had followed the chaos up as far as they could. The doors started to close again, but not before you looked back and saw them.

Robby grinning like a lunatic. Dana blinking hard like she might cry. Langdon sipping coffee and saying, “Don’t forget to breathe, Jack!”

Then the doors shut. Hours blurred. Morning into afternoon.

Contractions. Monitors. The deep, low sound of your own breath trying to ground you. Jack never left your side. Even after three coffees and a panic attack in the hallway.

“You’re doing amazing babygirl.” he whispered, brushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“I better be,” you groaned. “You’re the reason this is happening.”

He laughed softly, kissed your forehead. “Best thing I’ve ever done.”

Then your OB walked in, checked your dilation, and said the words:

“It’s time to push.”

Jack froze. You squeezed his hand so tight he winced.

“Ready?” He asked.

Jack nodded for you both. “Yeah. We’re ready.”

Your legs were up in stirrups. The pressure was unbearable. But Jack was there, one hand gripping yours, the other bracing behind your head.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. “So, so good. You’ve got this.”

Your OB sat between your legs, calm and steady.

“Okay, next contraction,” he said. “Push for me.”

You nodded, bracing yourself. Then it hit. Face twisting in pain.

Jack was right there, voice in your ear. “That’s it. Come on, babygirl. You’re almost there.”

Your OB’s voice cut through the haze. “He’s crowning! One more big push—just one more!”

Tears blurred your vision. You weren’t sure if they were from pain or adrenaline or love. 

Maybe all three.

“Come on, mama. Bring our boy home.”

And with one final, scream—you pushed.

And then,

A cry.

“Time of birth: 2:24 p.m.,” said the OB.

But you didn’t hear anything except the sound of your son’s first breath.

Jack choked out a sob beside you, hand covering his mouth as he stared.

“He’s here,” he whispered. “Oh my God. He’s here.”

They laid your son on your chest, slippery and warm, his fists clenched tight as he wailed against your heartbeat.

You looked down and lost yourself completely.

Tiny nose. Your dark hair. His father’s eyes.

He quieted the second you touched him. Jack leaned over you both, tears streaming freely now.

“Hi, baby boy,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I’m your dad.”

You looked up at him, your hand reaching for his face.

“We did it,” you breathed.

He kissed your lips, salty and trembling. “You did it,” he whispered. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Alright, have to deliver the placenta on your next contraction.” 

You leaned your head over to the left, looking down at what was happening to the lower half of your body.

Your expression faltered. Your eyes rolled slightly.

Jack’s smile vanished. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he said quickly, cupping your face. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyelids heavy. Your sight of Jack directly in front of you becoming blurry.

“Alright we got some bleeding here.”

Blood. Everywhere. Jack could hear it pouring onto the floor below you.

“She's hemorrhaging!” a nurse shouted.

“You shouldn’t be in here Dr. Abbot!” Said your OB as a nurse pulled your son off of your chest.

“No, I’m not leaving her!”

“Someone go get Robby!” A nurse yelled from across the room.

“Jack..” You managed to get out in a whisper.

“I’m right here. I’m right here babygirl. I’m not going anywhere.”

“N-no, his name… Jack.” you breathed. “Your name. He should know who he comes from.”

Jack shook his head, blinking hard, lips trembling. “Don’t say it like it’s goodbye.”

“It’s not,” you whispered, your breath catching. “It’s for him. Just in case. I want him to carry you forever.”

Jack leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, tears slipping from his eyes and into your hair. “Okay,” he choked out. “Okay, we’ll name him Jack. Our boy. He’ll know.”

Your eyes fluttered, body growing heavier by the second. You exhaled, barely audible.

Jack kissed your cheek, your forehead, your lips—desperate to keep you tethered. “I love you. Don’t let go. Please, baby, don’t—”

Your eyes shut.

The commotion around you barely audible as you slipped out of consciousness. “BP’s dropping—she’s crashing!” “Get her to ICU now. We need to intubate and stabilize.”

“No, no—” Jack stumbled forward, but Robby caught him, using all his strength to pull Jack out of the room and into the hallway.

Jack could barely breathe.

He didn’t even realize the team pushing your crying baby boy passed and down to the nursery. 

“Jack,” he said carefully. “Listen to me.”

Jack shook his head. “She was fine—she was fine a couple of minutes ago, Robby. What the fuck happened?”

“I know. But she’s not now. She’s in the best hands. Let them work.”

“I- I can’t do this without her, Robby. We’re supposed to be talking about the rest of our lives right now. I won’t make it through this alone. I need her.”

“You’re not alone. We’re all here with you. And with her. There’s a waiting room full out there just for you guys. You don’t need to do this by yourself now.”

He lowered himself to the cold, hallway floor. Arms went up, hands above his head, fingers intertwined in his hair.

“I can’t lose her Robby.” His voice broke as he looked up, tears pouring down his face, eyes already bloodshot. “This is all my fault.”

His entire world just changed in the blink of an eye. Because your family just began. But you weren’t there for it with him. 

———————————————————————

Wooo, my longest fanfic so far! Y’all I had to take so many breaks while writing this.  Also accidentally deleted the whole thing and almost threw my laptop across the room but, here it is! And there obviously has to be another part. 

Let me know what you guys think down below please ! :) 

[woniiez]

ᴛɪʟʟ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴇɴᴅꜱ | ₗ.ₕₛ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ. brothers bestfriend! heeseung x fem!reader

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ. You were sleeping when jay started banging on your door “y/n heeseung is gonna stay with us for the summer”. Lee heesung, your brothers best friend and the boy you’ve had a crush on since you saw him 5 years ago in your living room.

|| ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ. 4-6k (wrote this on my phone so i have no idea, tried to check it but it kept giving me different word counts)

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ. smut, brothers bestfriend.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ. nsfw! smut lmk if there’s anything else.

(hii this is the first fic I’ve ever written, I obviously have a long way to go lmao but I hope you like it. This was written with really less detail and not too many complications something simple I guess. There might be a few spelling mistakes or the paragraph formation is messed up so bear with me on that 🙏🏻. Since this is the first time I’ve written it’s not really fully “fic coded” you could say Ig but I’ll learn in time, it could be different writing wise from a proper fic.Anyways I hope you enjoy and if you have any questions regarding this or anything else lmk.)

————————————————————

You’ve never really talked to Heeseung much. He comes over a lot but jay doesn’t let you hang out with them much, it doesn’t really bother you much but what did bother you was when jay started banging on your door to wake you up on a weekend at 8am to tell you “ Y/N!! Heeseung is gonna stay with us for the summer”

You couldn’t wait for summer break to come but now you’re grateful there’s still a week left.

you RAN to karina’s house which thankfully was next door. She was obviously still asleep.

“Karinaaa!! WAKE UPPP” you say while pulling the blinds up, “y/n it’s 8am please I haven’t slept all night” karina said while pulling the blanket over her face

“I need to tell you something. ” you looked at her with a very serious face waiting for her to sit up “yes y/n goodmorning to you too” you smiled at her and murmured goodmorning back “ok get this jay said Lee heeseung is gonna stay at ours for the summer..the WHOLE summer!” You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding. You waited for her to say something She looked at you like you ate her cat or something, she really is cranky in the morning “can you say something why are you looking at me like that” she took a breath in and out. Oh no u hate when she does that, it feels like she’s going to pounce on you “y/n..is this what you wanted to tell me so badly to wake me up at 8am on a Sunday?” She said in a calm and low tone. You just looked at her as u blinked slowly and nodded slowly, she wasn’t having any of it “y/n it’s not a big deal it’s just heesung and jay is best friends with him you literally see him everyday” well that was true but she didn’t know about the crush you had on him, you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell her.“This is gonna be a looongg summer” you thought to yourself.

It was the first day of summer.

As you woke up the golden sunlight peeked though your blinds, casting stripes across the room. Making you think “it’s finally summer” you smile to yourself. You yawn as you watch the dust particles flying around the window.

You threw your blanket away from you and went to freshen up exited for the summer. You tie your bikini around your hips and back, then throw on an oversized shirt and some jean shorts.

You walked down the stairs each step filled with excitement, thinking about everything you were gonna do this summer with karina, going to places we’ve never been or just hanging out in your backyard. You took a deep sniff smelling waffles from the kitchen. The smell of the batter, the sound of the waffle maker, and fresh maple. You ran to the kitchen to see jay cooking. You love your brothers cooking especially his waffles it’s something he only makes it in the summer. “Jayy you’re making waffles?!!!!???!” You said giggling

and grinning, doing a silly dance “when I met you in the summerrrrr~~” you sang as a smile spreads on jays face. He hums with you.

“Sit down y/n 5 minutes more” he said looking back at you raising his eyebrows. You were walking around the wall to sit on the counter and suddenly you saw heesung sitting on the chair “WHA-“ you were totally surprised and feeling like an idiot since you just sang and danced and HEESEUNG SAW YOU. You completely forgot he was supposed to be here.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you try to laugh the embarrassment off. You looked up at heeseung who was already looking at you up and down. With a slight smirk on his face he tilted his head to the side. “What’s up?”

he said. His tone is relaxed and raspy. You feel so small in his presence , you feel your cheeks burn and u look up at him “hey I heard you’re staying here for the summer”you say trying to relax your voice, you sit down on the chair next to him and look up at him waiting for an answer “mhm” that’s all he says. You think if you’re going see him the whole summer you need to get to know him better atleast. You tilt your head and ask,“Can I ask why?” Your eyebrows raise in curiosity and a gentle smile forms on your lips showing you’re genuinely interested, before he said anything jay came up to the counter and sets the waffles in front of you with a light frown he glances at you and says “y/n don’t bother him” his eyes meet yours and he slightly smiles. Heeseung takes a waffles and puts it on his plate, jay walks away to get the ice cream he looks over at you but you were already looking at him, you look away “im moving to New York after the summer cause of my dads work” he says,his tone relaxed. He shrugs, his eyes glancing away for a moment. “he’s already there so I’m staying here till I leave” he lets out a light laugh and takes a bite of the waffle. You look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the news. A mix of surprise and a touch of sadness washes over your face. “New York, huh? That’s a big change,” you say, trying to keep your tone light despite the flutter of emotions inside. You bite your lip, thinking about why you feel sad you barely know him?!. “Are you excited about it?” you ask, your eyes searching his, hoping to catch a glimpse of his feelings. He shrugs a bit. “I’m not really worried” he says nonchalantly. Not wanting to show too much emotion you take a bite of the waffle “oh okay” you said kind of sad but you think jay might be really sad since they’ve been best friends since they were 10.

It’s been about 2 weeks since you talked to heeseung. Even though you’re living together there’s not much interaction between you too, well there are moments when you’re going out in your prettiest clothes and he undresses you with his eyes. You try to ignore it as much as you can, you can’t betray jay like that no matter how much you want to right?

Eventually you decide invite Karina over and take a swim in the pool. The cool water feels refreshing, and the familiar scent of chlorine surrounds you, bringing a sense of comfort. As you float on your back, Karina asks you a shocking question “do you like heesung”she says looking at you with her eye brows raised and crossed arms. “Karin-“ you pause cause heesung is standing at the backyard door by the pool. Did he hear what she said? You’re just looking at him with a confused expression. Karina looks back and smirks to herself. You can’t help but say something,it’s getting awkward “hey Heeseung do u wanna swim?” You ask, Karina noticed how your voice sounds way different from when you both talk. He scratches the back of his neck and says “yea can I?” Looking between Karina and you. You try to communicate with Karina through your eyes “ofc you can” she says with a smirk on her face as she looks at you, you look at her with a confused face as you raise your eye brow asking what she was doing. Heeseung walks towards the pool and slowly with a confidence smirk he pulled off his shirt, his toned body revealing itself to you. You flinched at the sight, you thought how it would feel if he was on top of you and you touch his toned abs..

Suddenly water hit you and you fell of your floaty into the water “what the hell!” You looked at Karina thinking she did that but you heard deep chuckles coming from the side, it was Heeseung “sorry didn’t mean to do that, just diving” he shrugs and looks you up and down like he’s ready to undress you “oh yeah btw there’s a party here tonight” he said. You looked at him in confusion since your parents are home. He continues “oh um jay told me to tell you, your parents have to go to a wedding” you tell him you’re going inside to talk to your mom and jay. You get up and wrap yourself in a towel, by now you think heesung has a staring problem.

You take a shower, change and head down with Karina.

You see jay helping your mom pack you walk into the room “mom where are you going” you ask since everyone knows except you.

“Y/n honey me and your dad have a wedding to attend it’s in the next town so we’ll be back in the morning” you tell her to be safe, you look at Karina and smile looking forward to the party. “Jay take care of y/n and don’t do anything stupid” she looks between you and jay, you put your hands up.

As soon as your parents leave jay picks up his phone and starts calling people over. Since it is your last year why not have a party.

You walk up to jay as he’s wearing his watch he looks over at you “soo who did you invite” you ask out of curiosity since he didn’t tell you about the party which is in YOUR house. He looks at you smiling “anyone and everyone” he winks. You wonder what’s gonna happen tonight your head already hurts. You weren’t really into parties, just going if your friends invited you or when you need to get your mind off something. But tonight it’s someone. Jay looks at you thinking to yourself and says “y/n I’ll keep an eye out for you tonight” you already know what that means. Jay isn’t much of an over protective brother but when it comes to his friends or guys in general getting involved with you, he hates it. Since they’re not someone he fully trusts.

As you get ready in your room, the sounds of the party downstairs filter through the door. Muffled laughter and music. Making your heart race with anticipation. You can hear the clinking of glasses and the cheerful chatter. As you finish your final touches, someone knocks on your door “come in!”

You look at the door as it opens and it’s heeseung hes wearing a black Prada button up with black pants he looks. Your heart skips a beat you blink, he stands there effortlessly attractive. You can’t help but admire his face shape the way his body fits in his clothes, how his jawline is shaped perfectly his eyes are captivating.

Closing the door behind him he walks towards you with a knowing smirk leans down to your ear and whispers “baby you’re staring”. You’re taken aback, you take a step back but he still walk towards you. “I think you’re the one with a staring problem hee” you say fixing the collar of his shirt, he’s chuckles shocked by the sudden nickname and confidence. He presses you again your closet behind you and he slowly puts his thumb over your lips. Before he can do anything else the door opens and you push him away.

It’s jay he looks between both of you “uhm Lee let’s go Jake’s calling you” he says while looking at you. You feel trapped not knowing what to do. Heeseung winks at you secretly and heads back down. Jay raises his eye brow “y/n what the fuck don’t you remember what I told you” he says in a low and angry voice though you can tell he’s hurt. You try to say something with your heart racing, you try to scan jays face but he just walks away.

You walk down after fixing your lipstick. You spot Karina with some of your old classmates and join them.

The party is in full swing when you find yourself in the kitchen, pouring drinks for your friends. Suddenly, Heeseung appears beside you, leaning against the counter with that trademark smirk. “Need any help?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. You nod, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his proximity.

As the night progresses, the atmosphere becomes more charged. Laughter and music fill the air, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is about to change. You catch Heesung watching you from across the room, his gaze intense, and you feel a pull toward him that you can’t resist.

Later, as the party continues, you find yourself in a quieter corner of the house, away from the noise. Heeseung follows you, the tension between you crazy. “It’s crazy how we’re both here together,” he says, stepping closer. The air feels thick with unspoken words, and before you know it, he puts his hand on your waist leaning in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

Your heart races as you kiss him back, the kiss getting deeper. The world around you fading away. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, but it feels too right to stop. Just as the kiss deepens, you hear your brother laughing, pulling you back to reality.

You break apart, breathless, and heesung looks at you with a mix of desire and uncertainty. “We can’t do this baby,” he whispers, but the way he looks at you says otherwise. The party goes on, but in that moment, everything changes. You kiss him again and deepen the kiss.

As you pull away from the kiss, your heart races,his forehead on yours. You glance toward the living room where the party is still in full swing. You can hear your brother laughing with friends, completely unaware of the moment that just unfolded between you and heesung.

“Maybe we should go back,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, still feeling the warmth of his lips on yours. Heeseung nods, but there’s still hesitation in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asks, searching your face for confirmation. His hands go up and down your waist. The last thing you both want to do is betray jay, but you can’t help it after liking him for so long.

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting your lip. “But we can’t let anyone see us like this.” You take a step back, trying to regain some composure, but heesung reaches out, gently pulling you back toward him.

“Then let’s keep it our little secret for now,” he suggests, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hands back on your waist moving upwards. You nod, the thrill of secrecy making your heart race even faster. You both go back into the party agreeing on keeping this a secret.

As the night progresses, you and heeseung have moments together, glances across the room, whispered conversations in corners, and the occasional touch that sends sparks through your body. The chemistry between you is undeniable, but you’re also acutely aware of your brother’s presence, and the potential consequences of your actions.

At one point, you find yourselves outside on the patio, where the sounds of the party fade into the background. The night sky is dotted with stars, and the cool breeze contrasts with the heat radiating between you.

“Do you think he’d be mad?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Heeseungs expression softens as he considers your question.

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “But I don’t want to hide this if it means something.” His words send a thrill through you, you’ve wanted heesung for such a long time but the thought of your brother’s reaction hangs in the back of your mind.

As everyone starts leaving it’s already 2am and jay is extremely drunk. You ask heesung to put him to bed.

You’re sitting in on your bed still wearing your black mini dress when the door opens and closes with a bang. It’s heesung he’s charging towards you suddenly he gets on top of you. You’re just looking into his eyes looking for something but they’re just filled with desire. As you’re about to say something he puts his lips on yours capturing them into a kiss.

It starts of slow, he sits against the headboard and you climb on top of him, your knees on the sides of his thighs. He pulls you in again for a deep kiss, he puts his hands on your waist tightening them. They way yours and his lips are moving next to each other feels unreal, he pulls you even closer towards him, you release low moans now needing him as close as possible. As the kiss gets heated you feel his tongue licking your self asking to go in, you let his tongue enter and explore your mouth he groans. He puts his hand on your zipper, you look at him and nod.

He quickly takes it off and looks at your perky boobs “so fucking sexy baby” he looks like he wants to eat you. You gasp when he takes one of your nipples in his mouth “hee-“ and swirls his tongue around,he gives the other one attention aswell taking it in his hands god. His hand goes down to your clothed core as he starts rubbing over it. “Hee please” you cried out, “please what pretty, say it” he whispered

You moaned and squirmed against his hard cock, making him hiss “baby u need to stop moving”.

He laid you against your back and started placing kisses all over your neck and breasts making you breathe heavily. As he placed kisses all over your body he reached your wet core. He took his shirt off revealing his toned body you started kissing him everywhere until It all went too fast when you suddenly felt a hot wet sensation licking your pussy slow. Your eyes rolled back, feeling hee’s tongue going deep in your pussy and sucking on your bud. Your moans could no longer be held back, letting them out freely for everyone to hear.

“H-hee ah- wait!” You cried out feeling your orgasm coming faster than you thought since it’s been 2 minutes. Heeseung didn’t stop, feeling your pussy tighten and open and before he knew it too, his tongue was getting covered by your juices. He licked his lips while looking at you, you thought you could look at him like this forever.

As he takes his pants off with his underwear you look at him surprised at how big he is. You gulped.

Heeseung notices your expression and smirks “you ready baby?” You nod aggressively not wanting to wait another second.

He kissed you everywhere complimenting every little thing, he leaned over and positioned his dick at your whole and slowly pushed it in. “HEE! Fuck” you moan, he thought you looked so pretty with your mascara running down your face because of him.

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he groaned

You let out a ragged breath feeling him in you. He felt so big and you felt so full. Heesung looked at you asking if he could move “u-h you can move” heeseung nodded and moved slowly watching your face as you roll your eyes back in pleasure.

That’s when he started moving faster, you both were a moaing mess. Panting against each other.

Heeseung groaned feeling you squeeze against him, he could feel his orgasm coming.

You felt your orgasm coming as he went in and out “f-uck hee im cu-ming” you moaned and closed your eyes as it came over.

Heeseung thrusting in deeper while you got off your high. He let out a raspy laugh.

You both were breathing heavily after he came and laid down with you. “that was-“ you said panting

“great. “ heeseung looked at you and kissed you once more before he got up and got a towel from the bathrooms and cleaned you up before laying back down.

“Hee?” You said laying down on his arm. “Yeah baby?” He pulled you closer under the blanket “when will you leave for New York?” You said. Your voice not above a whisper, he looked at your sad expression and put a strand of hair behind your ear “I told my dad already im not leaving”he said. You sat up holding the blanket to your chest, “wait really?!” You said smiling so big it hurt. “Yea. “ he said. Hugging you tightly. “I love you hee” you said looking into his sparkly eyes as u pecked him on the cheek “I love you too baby”. He kissed you back.

The sun was out ask you opened your eyes, you rubbed your eyes the memories of last night came flooding back into your mind and you couldn’t believe that actually happened. A smile crept onto your face.

You felt heeseung holding you tightly by the waist. You shifted to look at him, he looked so pretty while sleeping as well. You started tracing his lips and his nose even his eyes. He started blinking and smiled “goodmorning” he said, his morning voice so raspy and attractive. “Morning” you giggled and put your face into his neck.

You suddenly pulled back hearing your door open. “y/n wake uppp!” It was jay.

He stood there looking at both of you naked under the blanket.

He started blinking in disbelief.

Heeseung tried to cover you with his body which made you laugh.

You totally forgot you were in the same house as jay through all that.

Jay just walked out. You looked at heeseung confused why jay didn’t punch anyone. You and heesung got dressed and went down to the kitchen to talk to jay.

You both sat on the chairs in front of the counter where jay was making breakfast.

You started “jay uh.. can we talk” you felt like you’ve betrayed your brother big time, your mind had a lot of things to say but you need to tell him the truth first.

Jay looked back at you with his eye brows furrowed he nodded letting you know to go on but before you could heeseung started talking “look man im sorry it happened this way, I never wanted to hurt you or y/n” he lets out heavy breathing.

You could see how hard this is for heeseung because this is his only one friendship he cares about.

Jay looks at him very angrily “if you didn’t want to hurt me you shouldn’t have done this” he said in a higher voice as he crossed his arms. You felt bad for heeseung for getting the blame “jay it’s not his fault I also wanted too” you say searching jays eyes for something but they were just empty “y/n I know and that’s what I hate more, I told you so many times not t-“

You didn’t let him finish and told him the truth. “I love him” you say.

Heesung hold your hand and jay looks at heesung for an answer. “I love her aswell” Heeseung says in a very straightforward and sincere tome. Jay turns his back, you both give him some time to think. He turns back and sets breakfast up he glances over to both of you “Heeseung you better treat her right or she’ll have to witness your funeral” jay said while smiling as he hugged heesung. You looked at Jay with a smile “im sorry and thank you” you hugged him back.

In the evening you invited Karina over for a barbecue your dad was hosting. You told her everything.

She was really happy for you.

After the barbecue ended all of you jumped into the pool.

Heeseung pulled you to him and gave you a peck on your lips he whispered “I love you” you giggled and splashed water on him.

————————————————————

© won!!ez , 2024. do not copy, steal my stories

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption, curse words

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women. 

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,” 

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls. 

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks. 

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind. 

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment wasn't that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse. 

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm.

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment. 

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep. 

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

[rowdyluv]

Talk to Me - jh86

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: jack is stressing over how y/n is bottling something up that happened at the event they attended together. but he just wants her to open up to him like she always has

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mild language, angst, fake dating, anxious themes, oblivious characters,

© property of rowdyluv ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

"Quinn, man, she's just not herself," Jack said, his forehead creased with worry as he talked to his brother’s face through the phone. The bright screen cast a bluish glow on his face, making the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. “Well. She’s herself by being closed off and not telling people what’s wrong. But.”

“But…. she’s not telling you what’s wrong and that isn’t like her.” Quinn cut his younger, middle brother off.

Jack hummed in response. Relieved that Quinn at least understood that part of the situation. Quinn has known her just as long as him, so he figured calling big brother was an appropriate option for some advice.

Quinn's voice grew softer. "Jack, have you ever thought that maybe Y/n's still dealing with what went down at the charity gala? You know she isn’t actually superwoman contrary to your all’s longest running matching halloween costumes.”

Jack was quiet for a moment. Contemplating how to answer his brother’s absurd question. “Of course I have, Q. That is all I have thought about for four days now.” Jack drug one of his hands down his face and groaned in frustration. “Since when do her and I not talk to each other?”

Quinn sighs heavily on the other side of the screen, his voice thick with annoyance towards his brother’s oblivion. "Jack, you know, you can be pretty clueless sometimes.”

“What the fuck Quinn? How did this suddenly become the time to insult me?”

Quinn rolled his eyes and propped his phone up on his coffee table. He sat up, placing his elbows on his knees, looking right at Jack through the phone’s camera. "Jack, she is your best friend. You claim to know everything about her. Or that you know her best. If that is true, we wouldn’t be on the phone arguing about why she’s avoiding what happened."

Jack frowned and whispered, feeling attacked. "I do know her best.”

“And I know you both pretty damn well.” Quinn laughed. “So. I'm going to bet that she isn't avoiding the topic of the WAGs.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard you say this month.”

“Do you want to hear what I have to say or not, dumbass?”

Jack didn't respond to him, hoping he would take the silence as an invitation.

“Alright then. If what you told me about the ‘special moment’ you two shared is true. She could be avoiding you because of that. Think about that one.

Jack’s eyes snapped to the phone, his heart racing. He felt like the air was being sucked out of the room. “What do you mean? We have shared many hugs before. Many close moments. So what I felt like I was in heaven at that moment? She didn’t but I had it for a minute. She doesn’t care?.”

“Would you listen to yourself? Many close moments, many hugs, felt like you were in heaven? What about her? What did she feel? Had you discussed being that open about your arrangement in public yet? Or did you blindside her to have your fill?”

“Quinn.. I—. I have to go. Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you too, Jacky. Good luck.”

‘Rowdy dude. I believe you fucked up.’

————————

Jack stared at the phone screen for a moment longer before hanging up. He had been pacing the length of his bedroom, his thoughts a tumultuous mess. Quinn’s words echoed in his mind, making him feel like he had missed something crucial. He took a deep breath and headed to the couch where Y/n was curled up, fast asleep. Her chest gently rose and fell with each breath, and the soft light from the nearby lamp danced across her features. Jack was not going to wake her to let her know he was running out. He grabbed a pen and paper to leave her a note.

He scribbled down a quick message, feeling his stomach knot at the thought of her finding it. "Gone to grab a few things. Be back soon. Love ya, J." He placed the note on the coffee table and grabbed his keys. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the apartment eerily quiet.

Jack drove to the local floral shop, his mind racing with thoughts of what to say to her. The cool evening air brushed against his skin as he exited the car and walked through the quiet streets. The bell on the door jingled merrily as he stepped into the warm, fragrant oasis of color. The woman behind the counter looked up from her book, a gentle smile spreading across her face. "Can I help you find something?"

"I'm looking for some flowers," he began, his voice a bit shakier than he'd like. "I need lilies, daffodils, and some cosmos."

The woman nodded understandingly, her eyes twinkling. "Ah, sounds like you're trying to brighten someone's day," she said knowingly. "Lilies for purity, daffodils for new beginnings, and cosmos for a bit of whimsy. A lovely combination."

Jack couldn't help but chuckle nervously. "I hope so. They're for my best friend, Y/n. She's had a tough week."

The woman's smile grew as she began to gather the flowers. "Best friends are the best kind of people to have. Tell her they're for making bad days a bit brighter."

Jack nodded, his mind racing. "Could you make them into a bouquet, please?"

"Of course, dear," the woman replied warmly. "Let me wrap these up for you. They're going to make a beautiful bouquet."

Jack felt a twinge of hope as he watched her arrange the flowers. He knew that Y/n would appreciate the gesture, its who she is, and maybe, it would be the catalyst for the conversation they needed to have. He paid for the bouquet and stepped back out into the evening light, ready to get dinner and head back home.

The pizza place was a short drive away, a place they've been going to each week since she movec. It had the perfect blend of cheese and sauce that made their taste buds dance. As he walked in, the familiar smell of fresh dough and baked bread greeted him. The bell jingled over the door and the cashier looked up, recognizing him immediately. "Jack! The usual?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"Yes, please," he replied. She wasn’t necessarily picky with her food, but when it came to this pizza, she was a creature of habit. Pepperoni, ONLY just how she liked it. He watched as the pizzamaker expertly tossed the dough and spread the sauce, feeling a sense of comfort in the familiar routine.

As the pizza baked, Jack couldn’t help but recall the way Y/n's eyes lit up when she took that first bite, how she'd always save a piece for him to share. It was these little moments that made their friendship so special.

‘Friendship?’ His inner thoughts screamed and echoed and ping-ponged around his skull so loudly Jack didnt notice the cashier was trying to get attention to pay.

Jack nodded absentmindedly, pulling out his wallet. "Oh, right." He mumbling his apology and handed over the money. "Keep the change," he said, a little too eagerly, and practically bolted out the door.

The ride home was a blur. He barely noticed the scenery passing by, his thoughts consumed by Quinn's words and the weight of his own feelings. When he pulled up to the apartment complex, his heart felt heavier than the bouquet of flowers in his hand. The elevator ride to their floor was painfully slow, each ding of the passing floors a seeming to get louder and louder.

Jack's palms were slick with nerves as he unlocked the door and stepped into their shared space. The TV was playing softly in the background and the couch was now abandoned. He sat the pizza box on the coffee table.

He called out her name tentatively. The silence that followed was deafening.

With no response he peaked around the corner and down the hallway. There was a bit of light spilling out from under the crack of the door. He took a deep breath and went to knock gently, the bouquet in one hand, his heart in the other.

"Y/n? Can I come in?"

The door to her bedroom cracked open slightly, and a confused gaze met his from the other side. She had been crying again, Jack could see the redness around her eyes and the way her cheeks were still wet with tears.

His heart feels like it just had a skate ran over it.

Jack held out the bouquet, his heart hammering in his chest like a drum. "I brought these for you," he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. "To make the bad days seem a bit brighter."

Y/n stared at the flowers, her eyes widening with surprise. She had never seen him so nervous before, not even when he was about to go on the ice for a big game. She took the bouquet from his hand, her fingers brushing against his in a way that sent a jolt through both their systems. The sweet scent of the lilies filled the space between them, mingling with the faint scent of her perfume. "Jack, they're beautiful," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears.

“I have something else, c’mon.”

Jack's voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions crashing through his mind. He stepped aside, allowing Y/n to enter the hallway to head towards the living room where the pizza waited. She followed him with a tentative step, the bouquet clutched to her chest like a lifeline.

When they reached the couch, Jack turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for any hint of what she might be feeling. "Look, Y/n, I know something's been bothering you, but I don’t want to push. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But I want you to know that I'm here for you." He took a deep breath and held out his hand to her. "Will you come with me?"

“Our pizza and my favorite flowers? Did you cause a scandal in this fake relationship.” She feigned faked shock, knowing well he didnt. At least she hoped that he hadn’t.

Jack couldn't help but smile at her attempt to lighten the mood, but he knew this was another attempt to deflect attention. He nodded his head no "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

Y/n's eyes searched his, looking for a deeper meaning behind the flowers and pizza. She sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly. "Jack, I know you're worried, but I just don't know if I can talk about it yet."

Jack dropped his head. “I truly wanted to do something nice. But i will admit i had a few motives.”

“I’m afraid that telling you will change things for worse.

Jack looked at her, his eyes filled with concern. "Y/n, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. You can tell me anything."

Y/n looked down at the bouquet in her hands, the petals brushing against her skin as if whispering secrets she was too afraid to speak aloud. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Jack, I know you're trying to help, but it's just..." She paused, her voice cracking slightly.

Jack stepped closer, his hand reaching out to comfort her. "It's okay, Y/n. Take your time."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She took a deep breath and spoke in a hushed tone. "I've been trying to ignore it, but I can't. Have you ever wanted something so terribly bad, but you’re no good for it/them. Or do they see you differently?"

Jack's heart clenched at the pain in her voice. He went to grab her hand and she pulled away. His heart plummeted “Y/n.”

“Jack. Let me say it this way. Have you ever wanted someone so badly it physically hurt?” Y/n held Jack’s gaze silently pleading he did understand.

Jack cleared his throat before he tried to speak again. “And if I said yes, would you even believe in me?”

[wickworks]

Lancer Tactics dialogue layout crisis of faith

(from this month's backer update)

Every so often, I'll run into something in development that eats away at me until it pushes me to a crisis of faith and I have a breakdown, burn down a bunch of work, and build something better from the ashes. These are moments of transformation and we're almost always able to come out the other side with something much better than what we started with.

This all sounds very dramatic until you take a step back and see the issue in question is just, like, the layout of a menu. But if medieval priests were able to have schisms over angels on pins I can have strong feelings about graphic design, dammit!

This month's episode revolved around how we're doing character dialogue. For reference the plan was to do a standard 4-slot visual-novel talking heads layout. I call it a 4-slot because there's usually four positions that characters can stand; two on the left, two on the right:

I had it ingame, and it was working. But... something felt off. Do you see the difference between every one of the above examples and this?

It's all about perspective, baby.

Answer: all the character art in those examples are drawn at a slight angle so they can be flipped back and forth to be made like they're looking at each other.

Trying to do this with the perspective we chose early — straight on — makes for a chorus line of weirdos who are looking directly into your soul as they ostensibly chat with each other. Credulity is strained; the illusion of these puppets interacting in the same space is paper-thin.

(I was skeptical of choosing this perspective for this reason, but we ultimately went with it to make the customizable assets in the portrait maker easier to fit together)

We tried a bunch of different layouts, but they all at least one of these problems:

they'd stare into your soul while ostensibly directing comments elsewhere.

they felt like text messages; this would be fine if that's what we were going for, but we wanted something that could represent face-to-face conversations. (Tactical Breach Wizards was able to pull this style off because they had little 3D dioramas to go along with it)

or, most damning of all, they felt like zoom calls.

So, my heart aflutter and spirit in want, I spent a day doing a research dive into various dialogue layouts (bless the Game UI Database!) to see if any other games had managed to pull this character art perspective off. I ended up with this massive non-chronological taxonomic tree:

(fullsize here)

The type of layout that particularly caught my eye was this style where each character had their own little box. These layouts borrow a concept from comic books called "closure" where the space and time between characters are left blank. Freed from the constraints of trying to simulate a single space, these layouts allow the reader to fill in the blanks with something that feels more true-to-life than anything we'd be able to render ourselves.

I was especially impressed with the dynamism of Tales of Symphonia and The World Ends With You; rather than sticking to single slots they would animate the entire panels moving around to indicate motion an relative position of characters.

So we threw out the old code and copied them. Here's what we've come up with:

We'll be able to have portraits interact, like smacking each other (I felt like a kid hitting two action figures together, lol)

We can also apply effects like princess-leia-holograms and full-screen "lighting" effects like warning banners:

Carpenter and I came up with a number of arrangements that the portraits can smoothly transition between:

I've also implemented support for choices during a dialogue, potentially leading to branching paths.

Overall, I feel SO much better about this system than our initial designs. It might feel a little more cartoony, but I think we're making a cartoony game so that's not a problem.

Whew. We bit a lot off to chew with this project. I feel like I just made a second visual novel game engine inside of the first. Fingers crossed that it all ends up worth it.

[mrrharper]

Neighborhood Association

Cale put down the last box and sighed. He could now officially state that he has moved. He looked around the living room and felt proud of himself, after working tirelessly for almost a week to turn this space into a home. The same couldn’t be said about his feeling towards the place his new home was located in.

He was forced to move after the rent in his last apartment was hiked by 25%. This was more than he could handle, so he decided right then and there that the would find a cheaper place to live. He went on Zillow and it didn’t take long before he found the place he was now living in. Gorgeous building, well-kept outside, spacious inside, with a stupidly low rent. He called the landlord first thing the following day. He signed the lease a week after that.

It was only then that his friends came up to him and made him realize what was the place he was about to move into. Pinewood, an outer suburb and the only Republican stronghold in the entire metro area. This was bad news for the young gay software engineer basically addicted to the queer city life. But he had already signed all the paperwork and he decided he would make this work. Each time he felt like this might not have been the best decision he reminded himself that even with the longer commute he was saving a lot of many. Yeah, maybe the town screamed “All-American conservative suburb”, but this was the price for financial stability, Cale told himself.

Cale heard a knock on the door. He walked up to the entrance and opened it. He was surprised to see no one in front of his house, not even a single person walking along the street. Then he looked down and saw a leaflet. Oh, that’s what this was about. He picked up the piece of paper and started reading as he went back inside. “The Pinewood East Neighborhood Association welcomes you in our area. We are glad you’ve decided to find your special place within our prosperous community and invite you to become an active member. Just scan the QR code and fill the form. FIND YOUR ROLE IN PINEWOOD.” Well, that’s nice, Cale thought to himself. He sat down on the couch and scanned the code on the leaflet. The form was pretty standard, for the most part. The only unusual part was the part where he was asked about hobbies. It was not an open question and Cale was forced to choose for only a couple of options. He rolled his eyes, who designed this form? He picked “morning runs and fitness”. He did try to get into he habit of running a year ago. And a year before running it was working out. So he guessed this was the option closest to the truth. He quickly finished filling up the whole form and sent it, quickly forgetting about the whole thing.

Two days later when he came back from work and walked up to his door he saw a package. He was surprised, he didn’t remember ordering anything. But as he looked closer he confirmed that the box was addressed to him. There was just one small typo, Caleb instead of Cale, but he was used to it. He picked the package up and took it inside to his living room. He then opened the box and saw a letter on top. It turned out it was a welcome package from the neighborhood association. Cale thought it was a nice gift, but didn’t care to see what was inside the package itself. The only thing he took out was the baseball cap with the association’s logo on it. When later that day he went out to run a few errands he put it on, because it was the closest to his hand as he was leaving the house. He came back late and after getting out of his clothes he went back to bed. He forgot to take the cap off.

Caleb slowly woke up. He stood up and stretched his arms. He felt a weird ache throughout his whole body, and he didn’t know why— damn, that sesh at the gym yesterday was rough. But that ache was the sign that it was working. He turned his head and watched his arm as he flexed his biceps.

He came up to his closet for something to wear. But he only saw a few faggy shirts and some tight pants. What the fuck, he thought. But then his mind was instantly covered by a weird fog and he walked into the living room and picked up a big box standing on the floor. He opened it and took out a black compression shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He quickly put them on and immediately felt better, his muscles filling up the clothes perfectly.

Right after, Caleb looked up to see a pride flag hanging from one of the walls and a feeling of disgust filled his fog-covered head. He jumped up to the wall and grabbed the piece of fabric, then threw it on the ground. Then he came back to the box and took out a ‘thin blue line’ flag. That fit him way better and he quickly put it on the wall.

He heard his phone ring. He took his phone and answered.

“Yeah?”

“Good morning, this is Cathy form the Pinewood East Neighborhood Association. Is this Cale?”

“Ugh” Caleb grunted. Stupid woman. “It’s Caleb.”

“Oh, of course, my apologies” Cathy answered, but she didn’t sound like she was really sorry. “I’m calling to ask a few questions before we accept you as a full member”

“Sure, whatever” Caleb’s interest in the phone call was dwindling fast and he started flexing once again, watching his biceps go up and down.

“What’s your profession?” Caleb’s mind, completely covered by fog, didn’t know what to say.

“Ughhhh, soft…ware… was it… wait a minute—”

“Is it security guard, Caleb?”

“What?” He did not expect the woman to be such a psychic. “Yeah, yeah, security guard, duh.”

“Great, thank you Caleb, and one more question. There’s a group that wants to organize a Pride event in out beautiful city. How would you respond to such a proposal?”

“Hell no, we don’t want no queer near our place, isn’t that right? Bunch of degenerates” Caleb barked at the phone.

“I understand Caleb, and we agree, you’re absolutely right” The woman on the other side sounded almost… proud? “I won’t hold you any further, you have a job to go to. I’m glad you are fulfilling your role within our community. See you soon.” And then Cathy ended the call. Caleb shrugged, he wasn’t sure what was the deal with all this neighborhood shit, but why should he care? He was here for the low rent and the job that allowed him to spend half the day at the gym.

As he walked from the living room to the kitchen Caleb stopped in front of the mirror and started flexing. Damn, these guns of his looked impressive. And fuck, his chest was like a damn pillow, so sick. He watched his pecs flex in the mirror, moving under his compression shirt. These muscles were ready to smash degenerates and grab any pussy he wanted. When he was ready to leave the house, driven by instinct he went back to the box and picked up a pair of sunglasses he then immediately put on. Yeah, now he was ready to go to work and fulfill the role he was assigned in Pinewood. And brah, it felt fuckin’ great.

[bochowssinner]

in love with the way you write remmick like hello??? the dark mysterious vibe, yeah. i also love the fact it’s black reader coded being black myself i love seeing it from the perspective of someone the same race as me. wondering if you’d mind typing an x reader with remmick showing up to readers house seeking shelter and she kind of figures out what he is, but he doesn’t turn her valuing her humanity? kinda sappy but i wanna see a more soft approach to remmick idk

🪽THANK YOU.

summary: a random white man appears on your porch one day, covered in blisters, and while your father is skeptical, your heart tells you to help him.

warnings: none i think.

a/n: worked on this for hours nonstop. got messy at the end. hope y'all like it.

the missisipi sun was at his back 'n he was burning up. the arid, limitless field of dirt extended for miles in all directions, scorched and crumbling in the sunlight. his weathered boots kicked up clouds of dirt heated by the sun as they shuffled through the sand. he was thirsty, dehydrated, longing for a small drop of water to coat his cotton mouth. and above all, he needed food—bones, flesh, and blood.

the sun. that ball of fire, that damned piece of light. remmick had previously been hunted by that blazing light. he tried his hardest to stay away from it, even spending days at a time hiding in a hole in the ground to allow his skin to heal. he was powerful, sure. but every creature had its weakness, and remmick? the sun damn near killed him.

he staggered with each excruciating stride, the sun soaking through his shoes and burning the raw blisters on his feet. as he ran, a wet plap filled the air, with the sounds of his own blood and sweat sloshing in his shoes and between his toes, exacerbating his blisters. remmick wasn't religious at all, but he found himself praying in his head that he could get out of this scorching heat. despite the fact that he was a sinner and a horrible man, God appeared to answer his prayer quickly as a house came into his view.

after helping your ma in making breakfast—scrambled eggs, cheesy grits, crispy bacon, and buttery pancakes—you were in the kitchen cleaning up. an unfamiliar male voice caught your attention, and you wiped your hands on the floral kitchen towel before making your way to the front door, the wooden floor groaning under your steps. standing with a double barrel shotgun in his hands, your father—a well known farmer in the neighborhood—was aiming it straight at the stranger kneeling at the door.

you stood behind him, looking up down the white man with worry etched on your face. he didn’t look like one of the men from the neighboring farms—he was too beat up, his clothes too raggedy. he also smelled. it was a hot day, but even from where she stood, the man reeked of something sour. a little bit like alcohol, a little bit like sweat.

your father questioned him relentlessly, his expression hard. this was strange; a random white man on your porch, covered from head to toe in blisters and looking like he had been beaten with hot barbed wire; something wasn't adding up.

remmick didn’t respond at first, licking his chapped lips and looking between the double barrel shotgun gun and your pa, taking in the little woman poking her head from behind the porch door. “i don’t mean trouble,” he said at last, voice rough and sandpaper low. his eyes found you, studying the confusion on your face. “i jus' need water.”

the air was tense, your pa's grip tight on the gun. the man on his porch looked like he’d walked through hell, red faced and staggering. he was also white, which was suspicious enough. the farmers around here stuck to their own, the lines of color were drawn deep. remmick held up both palms empty, but still, your pa didn’t lower the gun. “i’m dyin' o' thirst, i swear.” he swayed a bit on his feet, and both your and your pa noticed. he was exhausted, dehydrated. his eyes locked with yours, and something passed between them. pleading.

"pa, he's burnin' up.." you spoke softly, cringing at the blisters that covered him from head to foot.

your pa's gaze flicked over to you, softening for the smallest moment when he saw your big eyes looking at him. you were always a soft-hearted girl, seeing something in people that he didn’t. he huffed.

“you from here? who’s land you trespassing on?”

“i ain’t trespassing. i’m just lost, is all. i was headin' east, and then the sun got to me.” remmick ran a dry hand over his face, groaning. “i need a few hours. to cool off, get my bearings. i'll be on my way as soon as the sun goes down.”

"he can sit at the table. i'll get him some water.." you spoke firmly but softly to your pa, walking to the kitchen before he could say anything else. you've always been stubborn, anyway.

that night, you persuaded your father to let remmick stay in the guest bedroom for the night. and he agreed after some pleading, promises, and tears of empathy from you. and he hated seeing his baby girl cry. you provided him with clothes from your pa's closet, a washcloth and soap bar for bathing, food, and other necessities. you were a little nosy and looked into the guest room before going to bed to see how remmick was doing, and then you saw them. his teeth were as sharp as your brother's hunting knife, and you almost gasped before forcing yourself to stay silent. putting the pieces together didn't take long; you were a smart girl who had heard tales from your cousins who lived in new orleans about the kinds of things they saw. in the hopes that you would forget what you saw, you said nothing to your pa about it. if he even caught a glimpse of those razor sharp teeth, he would shoot remmick dead.

but remmick knew you saw, and he knew you would keep quiet.

that night, you awoke to the sound of the front door creakily closing, but a shimmer on your nightstand drew your attention. a piece of gold with a note next to it with only two words scribbled on it with a nearly empty ink pen.

thank you.

— R.M

the gold gleamed in the low light from outside, glimmering like the stars on a clear night. that was more money than you had ever seen, more money than your family made in a week. you’d never even touched gold before, the metal was cool beneath your fingers, the ridges of the coin imprinted in your palm. your jaw dropped. where had this come from? you looked at the note, confusion making your head spin. where had he gotten this from? you sat up, studying the note again. the handwriting was messy, the letters sharp pointed and uneven. the words were simple, but the coin was worth a weeks worth of their harvest. you'd never forget him.

remmick.

[pin-k-ink]

DEAR DIARY… ⋆✦⋆ hisagi shuuhei

synopsis ➸ shuuhei’s never been that defensive about anything—not until your fingers brushed against that journal. he avoided your questions, avoided you, like distance would make you forget. but you didn’t forget, and now he knows curiosity was always going to win.

tags ➸ friends to lovers, strong sexual tension, mutual pining, objectification, dirty talk, manhandling, mention of alcohol, teeny tiny smidge of angst, fingering, mention of masturbation, praise kink, degradation, name-calling, unprotected sex, creampie, desk sex, teasing, orgasm denial, hair-pulling

wc ➸ 10.7k

The rhythmic thud of your sandals echoed down the empty corridor as you made your way towards Hisagi's quarters within the Ninth Division barracks. Despite the late hour, you couldn't quite smother the eager grin tugging at the corners of your mouth in anticipation of your weekly ritual.

Your friendship with the ruggedly handsome lieutenant stretched back centuries to those earliest, scrappiest days when you'd both entered the academy as idealistic youths. Joining the ranks of the Gotei 13 should have driven wedges and rivalries between you - dividing loyalties towards captains, codes, and duties. But against all odds, Hisagi remained your closest confidante and most steadfast companion regardless of divisions or responsibilities.

Which was likely why your secretive tradition of hitting one of the remote hole-in-the-wall sake dens every seventh night felt so sacrosanct - a simple indulgence you guarded with almost zealous reverence. Those dimly lit tavern corners became sanctuaries where the two of you could shed your personas as esteemed lieutenants, trade bawdy jokes and raucous laughter without prying eyes judging. Just two more weathered souls peeling back the facades for a few blessed hours each week before dusting off and rejoining the fray once more.

Your sandals finally slowed to a halt before the unassuming wooden paneling of Hisagi's personal quarters. Rapping out the signature pattern of knuckle-raps that had become your calling card, you fought not to start bouncing on the balls of your feet like an overeager child. It had been far too long since your last rendezvous and the familiar anticipation already sang in your blood like a fine whiskey's burn.

"Open up, slacker!" You hollered without preamble, half-turning to eye the shadows rippling along the corridor behind you. "Unless you're hoping to stand me up for drinks for the second week in a row?"

There was no immediate answer save for the subtlest shifting of floorboards beyond the door's threshold. You arched one brow skyward, senses instantly attuned for any subtle tells of Hisagi's whereabouts. Surely your oldest friend wouldn't attempt anything so brazen as avoiding you on purpose?

Before you could voice any further half-jeering inquiries, the heavy paneling slid aside with an abrupt groan. Hisagi's silhouette filled the dim aperture - features stoic yet clearly rumpled in a way that suggested he'd been unexpectedly roused from slumber.

"You've got a hell of a sense of timing tonight," he muttered by way of greeting, voice still gravelly and thick from restless sleep. You allowed your gaze to unapologetically rake over him with a snort.

"And you look even rougher than usual, tough guy," you fired back without missing a beat. "Didn't anyone ever teach you polite society demands putting on something besides those god-awful pajamas before welcoming company?"

He glanced down at his ratty yukata with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, already seeming to wake and bristle into your familiar back-and-forth with each acerbic volley. "Piss off, you nosy little gnat. Just be grateful I let you in at all instead of keeping this 'polite company' waiting out in the hall all night."

"You always were terrible at bluffing," you quipped, already angling your shoulder past his half-hearted block to barge your way inside with your usual brand of familiarity. "Ten seconds in that viper pit of a barrack's hall and you'd be whipped into a state over worrying about me getting 'ravaged by scoundrels' again, remember?"

Hisagi simply grunted in dry amusement as you beelined straight for his desk - the only section of his otherwise spartan living quarters that showed any semblance of life or disarray beyond the unmade bed. Bottle caps, crumpled parchment and various odds and ends were scattered amongst other jetsam in a clear display of the organized chaos his creative tendencies tended to foster.

Picking your way amidst the clutter, you were already reaching to snatch up one of the more promising sheafs of parchment when Hisagi's larger hand suddenly clamped down over your wrist with surprising force. Your brows shot upward at the abrupt movement and you glanced up to find him regarding you with clear, purposeful intent.

"Don't start rifling through my desk again uninvited," he said in the type of low, grave cadence most soldiers reserved only for discussing kill counts or battlefield triage with fresh recruits. "It's rude as hell, and you aren't a child anymore able to use that excuse of 'curiosity'."

Raising your free hand in a dramatic flourish, you rolled your eyes right back at him in an exaggerated display of nonchalance. "Relax, I'm not about to go messing around with the reports or personnel files I know you're hiding in there somewhere."

Hisagi's grip slackened fractionally but he still maintained the watchful stare, clearly not fully placated. So you opted to double down with that signature mischievous grin you knew drove him particularly nuts whenever displayed.

"It's just impossible to resist getting a sneak-peek at you attempting creative writing again." You let one shoulder rise and fall in a deliberately lackadaisical shrug. "Honestly, am I not allowed to at least cringe over your latest overly sappy sermons you've inflicted on your division already?"

Rather than rising to your playful ribbing, however, Hisagi's expression seemed to tighten incrementally into a strained mask that immediately set your instincts buzzing. Your grin wavered as he slowly withdrew his hand and pivoted back towards the cluttered desk in question - movements heavy and weighted as he seemed to stalk towards one particular drawer along the bottom row.

Only when you glimpsed what specific sheaf of parchment sat upon the distressed wood surface nearest did the first flickers of trepidation truly take root. There, wrapped in leather binding and accompanied by a scattered assortment of well-worn quills, sat a thick journal of some sort. Larger and more cumbersome than any log or typical report manifest you'd witnessed Hisagi toting around in the past.

Something about the innocuous-seeming artifact seemed to catalyze a shift in the very atmosphere as Hisagi carefully palmed its cover and drew it flush against his midsection with slow, deliberate protectiveness. Your gaze tracked the subtle motion with a mounting sense of unease thrilling along your nerves.

"Uh...Hisagi, what's with the stuffy bodyguard routine all of a sudden?" You asked in what you hoped came across as a blasé, unaffected tone. "Pretty sure that sad little journal is about the least scandalous-looking thing on this entire disaster of a desk."

Rather than immediately responding, Hisagi simply turned that inscrutable, heavy-lidded stare onto you once more. You squared your shoulders reflexively beneath the scrutiny's weight, suddenly feeling oddly pinned by the sheer sobriety in his eyes.

When at last he spoke, the words emerged in a low, sonorous rumble laced with subtle tension. "It's personal, that's all. Writing that I'd consider...private."

Your snort rebounded before you could think better of it, instantly cracking the fragile tension like a whip through glass. "Oh come on, don't tell me you're STILL too embarrassed to share any of your poetry with me all these centuries later?"

Before you could properly react or continue poking fun, Hisagi abruptly pivoted and made to slide the thick journal back into its drawer home. You instinctively surged forward, hand darting out to try snatching the tome before he could sequester it away.

"Seriously? After all these years you're still going to keep me in the dark about your little scribbles?" You half-whined, frustration burning at his reticence over something you'd always shared so freely between each other.

Unfortunately, your lunge was a fraction too slow—Hisagi smoothly withdrawing and securing the journal's weight back against his chest in one deft motion. His larger frame eclipsed your comparatively smaller one as you suddenly found yourself trapped against the press of his torso, effectively pinning you in place.

"Enough, brat," he growled down at you, though there was more frustrated affection than true heat behind the gruff words. "This is one aspect of my life I'm not discussing or having you pry into. Period."

You opened your mouth to fire off another retort, only to find the barb shriveling on your tongue as Hisagi's arms came up to bracket you more fully against the unforgiving wooden desk. His piercing slate gaze locked with yours from such intimate proximity—steady and laced with a gravelly undercurrent you couldn't quite parse in that breathless instant.

"I'm serious," Hisagi rumbled, words emerging slightly thicker and deeper than before. "Drop the subject and quit trying to always unravel every single facet about me. Have some respect for boundaries this once, will you?"

Despite the clear note of warning thrumming through his timbre, you were far too distracted by the sudden shift in dynamics to properly process it. Your senses had abruptly kicked into hyperdrive—each inhale painted in exquisite detail as you became hyper-aware of Hisagi's clean, masculine scent enveloping you completely. The maddening warmth radiating from his battle-honed physique where it pressed flush against your ribcage in a solid, unyielding barricade.

You swallowed hard on a reflex you couldn't quite quantify beyond your pulse points suddenly kicking into a steadily mounting gallop against the unforgiving compression of your mutual position. Just as you felt the first flush of heat threatening to creep up the back of your neck in a visible blush, Hisagi seemed to register the same charged undercurrents stewing between your seized breaths.

With a low exhalation, the hard lines of tension gripping his features gradually softened into something more rueful. His palms suddenly rested against the desk's edge on either side of your hips, easing back just enough to restore an infinitesimal ribbon of space between your bodies.

"Look, I...didn't mean to manhandle you quite so roughly there," he muttered, suddenly seeming unable to meet your stare directly. His jaw clenched with clear consternation as one hand raked through the sleep-tousled locks framing his forehead. "Jumped straight to combat mode being territorial over something that has no real business coming between us, did I?"

You exhaled a shaky breath of your own, clawing your way back from the thrall of whatever blazing undercurrents had nearly sparked between you. Managing a jerky shake of your head, you forced a wry smirk to take the sting out of whatever lingering awkwardness remained.

"Since when have you ever stopped yourself from manhandling this annoying pest whenever I started pushing your buttons?" You shot back, going for a breezy tone of normalcy. "I clearly touched a serious nerve bringing up whatever that journal is about. Just say the word and I'll back off, promise."

Hisagi's stare returned to yours - steady and assessing for a prolonged beat. Then finally, some of the residual tension bled from his shoulders, and he offered his own lopsided quirk of amusement in kind.

"What would be the point? We both know you'll just keep poking and prodding no matter what until I finally give you a proper ration of bullshit to shut you up."

You feigned a theatrical gasp of outrage. "Why Shuuhei, I'm deeply wounded you think I have such little restraint and maturity after all these years!"

His answering snort was both eloquent and richly laced with fond sarcasm as you both finally began separating on a mutual unspoken accord. Squaring his shoulders, Hisagi slid the full brunt of his focus towards getting ready for your evening out - hands already smoothing down the sleep-tousled yukata and fishing out his uniform from a nearby chest.

"Yeah, yeah...just give me a few minutes to make myself look decent enough for showing up on your arm in public, at least," he said distractedly, already disrobing without preamble. "Then we can finally get to drowning our respective bullheaded sorrows in far too much mediocre booze like we always do."

You felt your resulting laugh bubbling up from deep in your chest - full-bodied and welcome in the wake of whatever charged frisson had nearly sparked between you. It was a balm against the lingering uncertainties suddenly swirling like smoky eddies thanks to that unexpected exchange. A comforting reminder that no matter how much either of you continued evolving as individuals, your orbit would always intersect and realign on this eternal constant course between kindred souls.

"You know the rules, slacker," you tossed over your shoulder as you turned towards the exit to afford him some modicum of privacy while changing. "First one finished buying the first round has to make sure the other's cup stays filled all evening without complaining!"

Hisagi's derisive snort chased after you halfway down the hallway, already returning to steadier, more familiar ground despite the recent tremors between you.

-

The raucous din of the crowded izakaya enveloped you both like a living force the second you stepped through the entrance. Rambunctious shouts and laughter echoed off the low wooden ceilings, hazy with pipesmoke and the thick, cloying aromas of sizzling meats and fermented spirits.

Within minutes you'd managed to secure one of the more secluded alcove booths tucked against the shadowy rear - as per your longstanding tradition. Obscured from prying eyes by the artful arrangement of hanging scrolls, you two could finally shed the aura of esteemed leadership you'd worn throughout the day.

"Need you to start pouring before I resort to simply upending one of these bottles down my throat," Hisagi groused from across the small table, already shucking off his outer robes to reveal the plain undershirt beneath.

You snorted indelicately, automatically reaching for the nearest ceramic decanter and glasses to begin filling them to the brim. "Believe me, you aren't the only one already pondering simply swimming face-first into the sauce tonight."

Hisagi grunted in acknowledgment, gratefully accepting the overflowing cup and downing nearly half in one protracted pull. Already you could feel the subtle shift beginning - his shoulders gradually rounding out as the rigid tension bled away incrementally with each hit of alcohol.

Matching him pull for steadying pull, you allowed your own persona to slough off layer by grumbling layer until the only aspects remaining were your most unguarded selves. The two of you who had served as dearest confidantes to a raw, unvarnished authenticity never permitted anywhere beyond these four walls.

"I saw the updated patrol schedules today," you offered up after refilling Hisagi's cup for the third time. His brows perked with faint interest. "Looks like division six and eleven are getting paired up for scouting rotations in Rukongai again next quarter."

"Of course they would stick those sorry assholes with the furthest, most miserable reaches imaginable," Hisagi grumbled before taking another steadying draught. Already, you could detect the faintest slur beginning to tinge his consonants. "My money's on Ichiro defecting and trying to overthrow the whole charade within ten days tops."

"Pfft, you're far too kind with those odds," you shot back around a mouthful of sake. "Give me five and I'll put serious funds behind at least three separate attempts on that prick's life before they all finally kill each other off."

The barrage of snarky diatribes and mutual bitching continued flowing without pause - each of you indulging in an escalating cascade of gossip and embellished truths about mutual acquaintances. With each sip and uncomplimentary lambasting shared, the weights of rank and propriety fell further away in tatters.

Before long, you were both thoroughly ensconced in a warm, liquor-soaked bliss of levity and affection reserved solely for the sacred confines of your private ritual. Hisagi's arm slung over the backrest so his knuckles brushed the nape of your neck, calluses skating deliciously along your sensitized skin. Meanwhile, you slumped further and further into his orbit until your flushed sides practically melded into one long line of contact as the night burned on.

By the time you drained yet another bottle and took stock of your increasingly muddled surrounds, the tavern's ambient chaos seemed to have lulled into a soothing murmur. Hisagi leaned back with a contented groan, swiping his wrist across his mouth before bestowing you with a lazy, lopsided smile.

"Made it this far without you peppering me with personal invasions or interrogations," he remarked with a teasing glint in his hooded gaze. "Almost impressed at how well-behaved you've remained tonight, brat."

You mustered up an affected gasp alongside a mock swat at his sculpted bicep that missed by a mile. "The night's still young, ruffian! And I absolutely reserve my rights to harass you with endless chatter until last call if I so desire."

Rather than rise to your playful bait, however, Hisagi simply hummed and let his gaze drift lower - taking in your rumpled state with those piercing smolders that always made something flutter traitorously low in your core. His full lips curved higher in an indulgent smirk as he seemed to lean fractionally nearer across the narrow table's divide.

"Be my guest, pest," he murmured in a voice gone deliciously low and rumbly. The whiskey notes of his warm breath ghosting across your cheek kindled fresh embers along your veins. "Just don't say I failed to warn you when those nosing instincts lead you down paths best left untouched..."

Your pulse immediately kicked up several notches at the subtle shiver of foreboding laced through his words. Squaring your shoulders and mouth setting into a petulant moue, you quickly decided chasing away the heaviness via a more lighthearted approach.

"Sounds like someone's deflecting being called out by pre-emptively playing the cryptic brooding card," you countered with a dramatic roll of your eyes. "Real mature, Hisagi. Almost makes me want to revisit that old journal back at your quarters after all..."

Hisagi's entire demeanor shifted on a dime back into that granite solemnity from earlier - eyes briefly flashing as molten iron flooded their depths. Then, just as swiftly, it seemed to bank down into smoky embers as he slung one heavy forearm across the table's surface and leveraged nearer until you could practically taste his intoxicating, masculine aura.

"You really want to go there?" he growled, voice rendered into something carnal and edged with a sinful promise you couldn't quite trace the origins of. "Want me to confess all the ugly skeletons I've got rattling around in those private scribbles of mine? Because I can tell you right now they involve enough wretched truths that you'd instantly start looking at me differently, pest..."

The raw timbre underpinning each provocative word seemed to lance straight through your rattled defenses and scorch across your insides in tingling licks. You found yourself utterly transfixed - instincts caught in a limbo of fascination and wariness you couldn't properly navigate.

So you did the only thing you could think of in that suspended heartbeat and lurched forward to slap a palm across Hisagi's lap in a defiant feint aimed at redirecting the conversation back on steadier ground.

"Alright, alright! I yield for now on prying into your tortured creative process, slacker," you blustered with affected swagger, punctuating your words with a series of insistent pats against his solid thigh. "But only if you can promise to lighten the hell up and just enjoy the rest of this blessed evening I so painstakingly planned!"

Hisagi stared at you for one heated, loaded beat before his entire frame seemed to slacken incrementally—that familiar leonine aura of shameless charisma bleeding back into place as he reclined with a gravelly chuckle. One broad palm dropped to squeeze your knee in a grounding caress that instantly set your world back onto a more stable axis.

"Fine, but only because your petulant nagging gives me high blood pressure otherwise," he rumbled in a tone dripping pure fond indulgence. "Happy now that you've managed to unravel the surly beast once more, little brat?"

You felt the answering tug of your lips stretching into an unabashed grin. "More than you could possibly handle right now, tough guy. Now how about we call this dive's lazy attendants back over and get a fresh round going? These cups look far too empty for my tastes still..."

"As long as you're the one putting coin towards the next cask," Hisagi shot back, already jostling you with his solid weight in clear needling. "My coin purse is strictly off-limits after the damage you did to my finances last time!"

And just like that, the cadence of casual barbs, banter and deepening camaraderie resumed unchecked as you both settled into the unspoken ritual's familiar rhythms once more. No probing subject unturned, no judgements left unchallenged or dared spoken between souls so bonded that a lifetime could be lived in a single evening's descent.

At least until well past the izakaya's final call and looming trek home, that was...

-

The cool night breeze ghosted across your flushed skin as you finally stumbled out of the stifling izakaya's confines and into the narrow back alleys winding towards your quarters. Hisagi's solid weight bracketed you from behind - one muscular arm looped around your waist to keep you upright while his chest radiated delicious furnace-warmth against your back.

"Easy there, heavy-pour," he rumbled into your hairline, breath stirring the sweaty wisps along your nape. "You're doing a better job keeping your bearings than usual, but let's not get cocky just yet."

You couldn't quite bite back the snort of indignation that bubbled up at his teasing condescension. Craning your head back, you leveled him with as imperious a stare as you could muster through the pleasant sake-haze swimming behind your vision.

"Watch it, smart mouth," you shot back while digging your elbow lightly into his rock-solid abdominals. "Or else someone might think you've got yourself all protective just to get me alone in the dark for other purposes..."

Hisagi's deep, thrumming laughter vibrated through your conjoined frames in a way that somehow set your already over-sensitized nerves alight. "Bold of you to assume I've got any intentions beyond escorting your drunk ass home safely like every other time."

You huffed in feigned indignation, rounding the next dimly lit corner and shaking off his stabilizing support. "Excuses, excuses. Face it Shuuhei — for once your agenda tonight involves walking a pretty, slightly sloshed girl all the way back to her doorstep. Clearly you're gunning for at least a casual fling out of this whole gentlemanly charade!"

Hisagi arched one brow in a show of mock seriousness, hooking his thumbs through his sashes as you both slowed to a halt before your front entrance. You made a dramatic twirl to face him full-on, utterly ignoring the way your head spun slightly with the abrupt pivot.

"Is that so?" he asked in a rumbling baritone gone sinfully lower than before. "And here I thought all the liquid courage sloshing through your veins had just addled your faculties for propriety at last."

You grinned back at him through your sake-flushed haze, utterly unrepentant. "Don't play coy with me tonight, tough guy. I see that heated little glimmer you've been trying so hard to repress every time you think I'm not looking."

Bracing your palms against his solid chest, you leaned up on your tiptoes to bring your faces into intimate proximity deliberately. The crisp clean scent of his shampoo and sword oil shampoo enveloped your senses, kindling fresh tendrils of molten heat low in your core as you drank him in at this range.

"You've had the hots for this hot little body of mine for centuries now," you breathed in a lower, throatier cadence designed to roll directly along his nerves in a sensual caress. "So why not man up and make tonight the one where you finally get a taste?"

A loud clatter from the nearby courtyard punctuated your words, shattering through the thickening undercurrents like physical percussion. You watched with a sense of vertigo intensifying as Hisagi's throat bobbed convulsively on a thick swallow. When his piercing gun-steel regard locked onto yours once more, you felt your breath stall in your lungs.

"Someone's feeling adventurous after tipping back a few too many cups," he growled, though the deep resonance carried none of the usual dismissive edge you'd steeled yourself for. "But even if I were tempted to satisfy those filthy little cravings clouding your hazy mind tonight…what makes you think you could handle the hunger raging inside me?"

Your fingertips skated lower along the ridges and crests of musculature flexing beneath his robed until they skirted the waistband digging into taut obliques. Feeling positively incandescent with bravado, you allowed your thumbs to slip beneath its warm confines in a delicious implication.

"Because maybe I've been hungrily eyeing this big, strapping soldier myself whenever your back was turned," you husked in a whisper meant only for Hisagi's burning ears to consume. "Checking out the absolutely sinful size and shape you've been packing beneath these boring robes all this time..."

Hisagi exhaled a low, shuddering rasp at the bald-faced provocation laced through your words. His strong palms suddenly clamped down on the curves of your hips, utterly halting your teasing exploration southward with bruising insistence.

"Mind where those naughty little fingers start wandering if you can't back up that cocky mouth of yours," he rumbled in a cadence gone guttural and loaded with enough gravelly promise to make your knees wobble dangerously. "This hard-on's been begging to get broken loose and properly used for over an hour now after watching your lips run all evening..."

You felt a tremor rack your limbs as your arousal spiked into dizzying new altitudes. Every breath you sucked down seemed to scorch straight through your lungs - body thrumming like a live wire ready to detonate into blissful detonation at any second.

Somehow you found the wherewithal to tip your chin higher in defiance, determined to meet Hisagi's lascivious challenge head-on rather than buckling beneath its intensity. "If that's your game then ante up, tough guy, because this thirsty little mouth has been starving to—"

The words shriveled and died on your tongue as Hisagi suddenly banded one thick forearm around your lower back and wrenched your bodies fully together into a scorching, unyielding crush. Your core spasmed against the searing bulwark of his arousal pinning you open and utterly claimed, mouth falling open on a shuddering inhale.

"Last chance to walk away before I utterly demolish that self-control you're barely clinging to," Hisagi growled against the fevered pulse at your throat. "Because once I've had my fill of those sweet lips, my conquest won't end until I've buried this cock balls-deep and left you a ruined, sobbing wreck in your wake..."

Any lingering traces of playful, alcohol-fueled bravado threatening to spill over into full-blown reckless abandon rapidly iced over as you watched an unreadable expression shutter over Hisagi's features.

It was as if a switch had been flipped - the electric, magnetic charge rapidly leaching from the atmosphere as he seemed to withdraw within himself. You stood there frozen, lips parted and breath coming in shallow pants from the searing proximity you'd allowed yourselves to drift into.

Then Hisagi recoiled with a muttered curse, putting a careful span of distance between your tangled frames with a none-too-gentle shove against your midsection. The action rang out like a gunshot's concussive force in the static-charged silence. You staggered back a half-step, utterly poleaxed and off-kilter with visceral whiplash from how swiftly the undercurrents had changed.

"Get inside and sleep it off," Hisagi bit out in a low, gruff tone devoid of any previous heated edge or familiarity. His hooded gaze remained carefully averted, almost as if he couldn't quite bring himself to meet your blatantly confused stare head-on anymore.

"But...Shuuhei, what—" you stammered out around the knot of bewilderment clogging your windpipe. "We were just—I mean, I thought you wanted—"

"Yeah well, clearly we let things go too far down a road best not traveled tonight," he cut you off, tone clipped and borderline harsh in its inflectionless finality. "My judgment was skewed earlier is all. I shouldn't have indulged toeing those types of boundaries, however indirectly. Not with you."

The last few words landed with all the weight and blunt impact of gravel clattering against the planks beneath your sandals. Before you could formulate any further queries or reactions beyond sheer stupefied hurt, Hisagi had already turned on his heel and set off down the street at a brisk, ground-eating stride.

"Get some rest," he tossed over his shoulder without glancing back even once. "And don't worry, there's no need to overthink things here. I've got enough control for us both to avoid making the same mistake again any time soon..."

You watched his steadily retreating silhouette until it disappeared around the next corner, numbness settling icy cold in your limbs and gut in equal measure. The night seemed to stretch out before you in an endless, lonely expanse as the solitude rapidly enveloped.

When you finally gathered enough wherewithal to fumble your way back inside and collapse into the sheets, it felt as if much more than physical exhaustion had simply leached straight from your marrow over those last few excruciating moments. Drained and hollow, you let the blackness swallow you down with nary a protest.

-

True to his parting vow, Hisagi remained conspicuously absent in the following days and nights—apparently keeping his distance with rigid, almost obsessive determination.

You tried not to read too deeply into the sting of his intentional avoidance, telling yourself it was likely his way of simply allowing things to smoothe over after your heated encounter at your door. But the more the hurt festered like an open wound picking up subtle toxins, the harder it became to ignore.

Attempts at checking up inevitably went unanswered with increasing finality. Any random paths you crossed only led to Hisagi retreating before you could so much as exchange stilted greetings—that hooded, opaque look from before firmly in place.

Unable to quell the nagging, sour frustration bubbling higher each time he ducked your presence and company so successfully, you finally reached the end of your patience by week's end. Determined for some sort of resolution, you marched directly towards Hisagi's personal quarters with fists clenched and a slew of choice grievances fully prepared on your tongue.

However, when you rounded the final dim hallway bent, you found his door hanging slightly ajar and his alcove suspiciously empty. No sounds or indications of recent activity resonating from within the hollow gloom beyond his empty threshold. Steeling your jaw, you pressed forward and slipped inside his personal sanctum to find it as deserted as you'd initially feared.

Wherever Hisagi was currently avoiding you, it apparently wasn't his own standard haunt within these walls. A spark of petulant ire ignited along your nerves, refusing to be stymied by this latest turn.

You fumed silently as you paced back and forth across Hisagi's cramped personal quarters, trying to decide your next move. The anger burned hotter with each passing minute he remained absent and evasive. Part of you entertained the notion of simply waiting right here until he inevitably returned so you could finally force a confrontation. But an even bigger part itched to take a more proactive approach - to actively hunt him down and corner him so this childish cold shoulder act couldn't continue any longer.

As you whirled towards the exit with renewed determination, your gaze fell upon the leather-bound journal sitting in clear view atop Hisagi's chaotic desk. The same personal, off-limits journal he'd been so adamant about keeping private just the other night. Now it laid open before you as if inviting you to finally unravel its heavily-guarded secrets.

You paused mid-stride, chewing your lower lip as you wrestled with the desire to respect his privacy despite his current bullheaded antics. But the longer you stared at that innocuous-looking tome, the more your curiosity gnawed at your restraint. With a huff of annoyance at Hisagi for putting you in this position, you finally stalked over and snatched up the journal with shaky hands.

The first few entries were utterly mundane - detailing tedious duty rosters, patrol rotations, and other numbing bureaucratic responsibilities you'd have expected to fill its pages. A small part of you relaxed slightly, thinking perhaps you'd get bored enough to simply close the journal and honor Hisagi's boundaries after all.

That is until you flipped a bit further and the subject matter took an abrupt, distinctly personal turn.

Hisagi's usually pristine handwriting became looser, more languid as he described individual moments and small observations in an almost...poetic manner. You furrowed your brow as you read paragraph after paragraph filled with flowery, vivid descriptions and intimate personal anecdotes. And at the very heart of each impassioned entry - you.

Sentence after sentence detailed your most mundane gestures, smallest habits, and casual daily interactions through Hisagi's utterly adoring lens. The way your eyes crinkled at the corners whenever you smiled at him over drinks. How your hair cascaded around your face when the wind caught it just perfectly. The cadence of your laugh and how it always seized his breath straight from his lungs whenever aimed in his direction. He committed it all to the page in loving, almost obsessive detail.

Your cheeks burned hotter and hotter the more you read and the clearer it became about Hisagi's true depth of feeling toward you. These weren't mere observations of a close friend, but the enraptured musings of a man utterly entranced, even worshipful, of your every last detail.

Then you reached a new section of the journal, and the bottom dropped out entirely.

These final pages didn't contain Hisagi's usual eloquent prose and delicate turn-of-phrase. Instead, they read like hastily scrawled admissions straight from the darkest recesses of his mind - utterly unvarnished stream of consciousness poured out in erratic but legible scrawl.

Hisagi didn't bother masking the primal lust and molten-hot hunger that laced these particular entries, all totally and completely focused on you in the most visceral, filthy, and undeniably erotic ways imaginable.

'Don't know how much longer I can keep holding back from simply bending my good friend over and rutting into that sweet cunt like a feral beast until we're both ruined...'

Swallowing hard, you rifled feverishly forward in mounting disbelief - page after page revealing more and more of Hisagi's naked, utterly unrestrained fixation upon you and his uncontrollable need to worship every molecule of your being in the most visceral manner imaginable.

'I dreamed about fucking her again last night, absolutely brutalizing her throat and cunt until she was hollow and hollow and crying on my cock, begging for more. No one's ever driven me to the same level of delirious madness and insatiable hunger...'

'Hid in the shower and stroked myself imagining pinning her against the floor, biting and sucking hickies down her arched throat as I speared into those honeyed depths raw over and over. She'd break and spill everything for me in that state.'

On and on the uncensored depravity continued in a raw, utterly desperate outpouring seemingly ripped from the deepest, most spaces of Hisagi's psyche. Each lurid fantasy and secret desire consummated in blunt, pornographic poetry rendered on the page in excruciating detail without a single boundary left standing.

'Her tongue would be velvet rapture itself - made for worshipping every ridge and vein pulsing across my aching cock with slow, reverent strokes until I'm weeping for mercy...'

'There are nights I wake up already fisting my cock in my pants, furiously chasing the images of reaming that perfect pussy in new sick angles while she bucks like a wild thing beneath me. Always leaves me coming so hard when I imagine stuffing her to bursting with my seed at last...'

You lost track of how many times you choked out a garbled, incredulous sound - both scandalized and increasingly swamped by visceral shudders of arousal the more you consumed Hisagi's utterly perverted, obsessive outpourings about hungering to defile you from every conceivable angle.

By the last few entries, you were outright squirming in your chair while reading - eyes glazing over from the uncensored erotic imagery and sheer delirious heat steaming off the inked admissions:

'Spent nearly an hour having to muffle myself, jerking off just fucking imagining her sweetness soaking my tongue. Stroking over that pretty little cunt while feeding her my load...breaking her with pleasure until she's useless and glassy from orgasms. No idea how much longer I can resist making that my reality.'

'What if I just took her by surprise one day - bent her over a table and mounted her from behind like a dog? There'd be no half-hearted struggles or refusal once she felt my girth spearing into her tight cunt. Just acceptance that I own every sinful inch of her flesh now.'

That final entry seemed to consume your entire consciousness and leave an echoing void in its wake as you unconsciously mouthed the words over and over. Hisagi's eloquence seemed to have fully shattered into a visceral, feral outpouring of debased lust and ravening possession towards the idea of utterly defiling you without mercy.

Only when you hazily glanced up from the pages did you register your own hand frozen with fingers idly caressing and teasing your clothed, swollen sex with unconscious ardor. A strangled whimper finally wrenched free from your parched throat - body suddenly feverish and fevered from the primal, unholy bacchanalia now seared permanently across your psyche.

Sweet merciful heavens, you'd barely even glimpsed the full fever dreams of Hisagi's depravity by forcing his tragic manifesto wide open like this...and already felt utterly stripped down and reshaped from the exposure alone. How the hell were you going to endure in any recognizable form if he ever indulged unleashing those full, starving appetites upon your joined raptures without holding back?

The journal slipped from your trembling hands to clatter loudly against the desk's surface as you slumped in a dazed heap - soaked thighs clenching fitfully while your mind swam in a crimson haze of sin and maddening arousal. Whatever this metamorphosis Hisagi's unchecked obsession had catalyzed within you, there could be no sane way to emerge from the other side unscathed and unbroken.

You hungrily turned the next page, rapidly abandoning all pretext of restraint as the primal allure of Hisagi's darkest, most twisted fantasies continued unraveling before you. Each successive entry seemed even more lurid and depraved than the last - ever graphic scenario and perverse craving splayed out in granular, unapologetic detail.

Part of you recoiled in scandalized disbelief at the sheer extent of the man's utterly depraved fixations upon worshipping your body in the most carnal, unholy manner imaginable. But another part - a deeper, lurking essence you could no longer deny - felt something bright and predatory inside you awakening in rabid answer.

'I need to mark every inch of that pretty skin until she's been utterly remade as my possession. Sucking hickeys and bites down her beautiful throat, those perfect tits getting slapped and manhandled until she sobs for mercy...'

Your breath punched out in ragged pants, greedy gaze consuming each delirious word as explosive heat licked along your sensitized nerve endings. In your electrified state, it almost felt like Hisagi's rich, graveled voice was husking out the erotic sacrilege directly against your pounding pulse rather than on paper before you.

'She'd be so obedient and break for me. After the first few devastatingly deep, punishing thrusts stretching her cunt apart I can picture those gorgeous eye rolling back as I shove inside balls-deep and take what's mine...'

One slick hand strayed beneath your robes without conscious thought, caressing and stoking along your drenched, swollen folds in frantic rhythm with your senses now utterly enthralled by the uncensored depravity spooling out upon the page. A strangled moan punched free from your convulsing chest as you circled your slippery clit, back arching involuntarily against the phantom sensation of being speared wide open by Hisagi's cock just like the depraved text described.

'Should just bend her over and eat that tight pussy out, spread her thighs nice and wide to really work my tongue inside and taste every forbidden inch of—'

The next searing monologue choked off as someone’s large, calloused palm suddenly slammed down atop the tome's binding, making you jolt. You whirled around in your chair - mouth already falling open on a flurry of breathless excuses and apologies for the intrusion you'd committed in invading his privacy so utterly.

The words rapidly calcified on your tongue as you drank in the utter tableau before you. There stood Hisagi himself, midnight hair in disarray and looking utterly winded as if he'd run the entire way back. His powerful, stone-carved features were locked in an inscrutable, unreadable mask.

But his body...God, his body betrayed the extent of what holding himself in check was currently costing the man. Every muscle visibly clenched and ticking with the kind of rapacious energy usually reserved for berserker rages on the battlefield. Sweat glistened along every carved ridge, forearms bulging with strain as Hisagi's hands twitched with the clear effort of not simply seizing and taking what he so ravenously craved right then and there.

When your gazes finally locked and snared, you felt your mouth go utterly dry at the unadulterated molten heat blazing behind Hisagi's piercing stare. There was no judgment or anger present — just a naked, primal intensity burning brighter and hotter than a forge's heart focused solely upon you. The man's veneer of civility was finally cracked to its foundations, you realized with a belated thrill of rapture.

He drank in your disheveled, panting state completely unchecked - slate irises darkening further as he clearly scented the tang of your arousal perfuming the air around where you sat on flagrant display. Just as a flush began creeping up the back of your neck towards your cheeks, Hisagi's gravel-edged growl emerged from somewhere basal and elemental deep within.

"So you finally decided to go snooping through my private shit, huh?" His tone was more heated desire than true anger as he took a step closer, eyes roving over your flushed face and parted lips. "Had to go prying into the sick, twisted things I've been craving to do to that gorgeous body of yours?"

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from the smoldering embers burning in his stare. Despite your embarrassment at being caught, you felt no shame - only a delirious longing steadily unfurling within your core at his blatant appraisal.

"I...I couldn't resist after you made it sound so scandalous," you managed, surprising yourself with the husky rasp coating your words. "Wanted to see what had you wound so tight you couldn't even let me get a peek."

Hisagi's nostrils flared slightly, clearly catching the undercurrent of arousal now thickening the air between you both. Rather than rebuke you further, however, his expression melted into something more conflicted and grave.

"So now you know," he murmured, suddenly sounding more subdued as he sank down to kneel before you. One of his rough palms cradled the side of your jaw with surprising tenderness. "Seen all my darkest, sickest desires where you're concerned laid bare for you to recoil in horror."

You automatically leaned into his touch, compelled by the molten sincerity now flickering in his piercing gaze as it roamed your features slowly.

"Does it disgust you?" he asked lowly - words emerging from a deeper well of vulnerability he rarely allowed to surface. "Knowing the depths of this depraved obsession I've developed over you? How unhinged I become just from fantasies about wrecking you properly on my cock until you're a ruined, sobbing mess?"

Rather than answer verbally, you surged forward to capture Hisagi's mouth in a searing, messy clash of lips and tongues. He groaned against the sudden onslaught, big palms automatically spanning your waist to haul you flush against his solid bulk as the kiss spiraled into frenzied indulgence.

When you finally tore away, you were both flushed and breathing harshly - foreheads pressed together as you gazed into his slightly dazed eyes.

"Stop being such an idiot," you rasped, draping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your next words emerged in a breathless rush, unable to filter any longer. "I want it, Shuhei. Want you to give me everything described in those filthy pages and then some. Been driving myself crazy thinking about you splitting me open and making me scream your name too."

A shudder rippled through Hisagi's powerful frame at your brazen admission. His large hands roamed over the curves of your body with rough possessiveness as dark wonder crept into his expression.

"God...you really are just as sick a little freak as me, aren't you?" The growl had returned to his voice, but layered with undisguised reverence now as his grip tightened almost painfully.

"Because I really did mean every soaked, perverted word written about the ways I intend to violate and claim this gorgeous body, kitten. Gonna make sure you're utterly reshaped and remade as my personal set of holes to use and ruin over and over..."

You shivered against him, hissing softly through your teeth as arousal spiked electric through your blood in answer to his crude, unrestrained promise.

"Then what are you waiting for?" You ground out breathlessly. "I'm done teasing or hesitating — just take me already, Shuuhei. Make me your personal fucktoy like we both clearly want so badly..."

A low, hungry noise slipped from him as his mouth crashed over yours in a devouring, searing kiss once more. One hand gripped your thigh to haul your leg up and around his waist as the other clutched and kneaded the soft mounds of your ass through your robes shamelessly.

"You're gonna regret giving me that kind of permission, gorgeous," he husked into the kiss with visceral sincerity. "Because I really won't be able to stop myself from breaking that body of yours into the prettiest, strung-out mess imaginable until you're addicted to being my insatiable little cumdump..."

Already, you were whimpering and writhing against the delicious friction of his burgeoning length grinding against your clothed heat through thin layers. Any further protests or hesitation shattered against the raw lust coursing molten-hot through your veins, rendering you utterly incandescent and unhinged for the first time in ages.

Hisagi seemed to be consumed by the same feverish, ravenous energy - all traces of the stoic, reticent man gone as his fingers fumbled at the fastenings of your robes. His movements were hurried and desperate, but his gaze remained fixed on you with single-minded intensity.

"Need you naked and on your back," he growled, voice rough and guttural. "Wanna see that pretty pussy gushing and dripping down my balls the first time I fill you up with my seed."

The command sent a fresh shudder through you, making your fingers dig into the sculpted ridges of his back through his own crumpled garments. With a frustrated grunt, Hisagi tore himself away from the embrace and reached down to untiethe sash knotted around his waist.

You watched, entranced, as the man's powerful muscles rippled and flexed beneath his skin with each movement. Even his face was a study in unguarded rapture, completely undone by the lust and desire raging in his veins. The sight had your sex pulsing fitfully in answer, practically salivating over the promise of how his raw physical power would feel pinning you down and overwhelming you in the most primal way imaginable.

Once he'd stripped off his robes and kicked away his sandals, you could see his cock had swollen to a thick, proud arc that strained towards his chiseled abdomen. You swallowed hard, mind flashing back to the vivid fantasies of what his girth would feel like plunging into your needy depths over and over without mercy.

Hisagi's heated gaze flicked to your face, noting the way your eyes had gone glassy and distant with the image still etched across your brain. His cock twitched noticeably at the sight of you drinking him in with such blatant hunger, but his expression remained unflinching. You barely registered him moving before his large, calloused palms were suddenly grasping and hoisting you up from the chair.

Your thighs locked instinctively around his hips as he carried you over to his desk, where the journal still sat wide open in brazen testimony to the debauched act about to occur. A fresh pulse of arousal shuddered through you as you imagined being used and claimed upon the very site of his secret, sinful lusts.

The second he'd laid you out atop the desk, he was descending over you - his weight a thrilling pressure as your bodies melded flush. You couldn't resist arching up into him, reveling in the feeling of his warm skin sliding against yours and the velvet-over-steel sensation of his straining cock pressed flush to your belly.

Hisagi's mouth was already seeking out yours once more, tongue stroking over yours with urgent hunger. Every inch of his powerful body seemed to be vibrating with restraint as he rocked and ground his hips against you - making your toes curl as pleasure crackled through your nerves like wildfire.

"Can't believe how lucky I am," he murmured roughly, punctuating the words with a string of kisses down your jawline. "Finally have the woman I've been aching to worship for so long spread out before me, ready and willing to accept every sick fantasy and depraved desire I've been craving..."

You couldn't help the soft keen that escaped your throat as his words sent a fresh flood of wetness slicking your folds. The sheer primal intensity with which he'd uttered the words had you trembling and aching to be filled already. A fact Hisagi didn't fail to pick up on, given the way his lips twitched with amusement.

"Oh, did you like that?" His deep voice rumbled with dark intent, the edge of his teeth nipping sharply at the juncture of your throat. "My sweet, gorgeous kitten is an absolute whore for dirty talk, huh?"

You gasped as he suddenly sucked hard on the tender skin, his hands busy tugging the final bits of clothing from your form. The sensation of his tongue laving the abused flesh in rough swipes had fresh need coiling tightly in your core, making you writhe and pant beneath him.

"Y-yes, fuck..." You keened, the last syllable pitching into a moan as Hisagi's fingers began stroking along your folds, gathering the wetness pooling at the apex and spreading it liberally. "Please, I...I want your cock inside me so bad, Shuhei..."

He huffed out a soft noise of approval, lifting his head from your throat to capture your mouth in another devouring, dizzying kiss. The entire time, his fingers worked and teased your slick cunt - spreading the gathered honey across the swollen folds and circling the pulsing entrance teasingly.

"What my girl wants, my girl gets," he growled against your lips, the gravel-edge to his tone sending another shiver of delight through you. "Because no one can take care of this gorgeous little pussy like I can, right?"

With that, he plunged two thick fingers into your depths. A strangled cry punched from your chest at the sensation of being so deliciously stretched and filled after days of deprivation. Your walls clenched and fluttered around the penetration, trying to suck him deeper as your nails bit crescents into his broad shoulders.

Hisagi let out a ragged groan, the sound seeming to come from the bottom of his chest as he felt your slick, molten passage convulsing around his digits. You couldn't hold back the delirious whimpers and moans that poured free as he began fingerfucking your drenched cunt in a punishing rhythm.

"Fuck...you're tighter than I imagined," he husked, pressing a line of rough, heated kisses along the column of your throat. "Can't wait to see how this perfect little cunt squeezes around my cock once I'm balls-deep in those molten depths."

A whimper was the only coherent sound you could manage at the moment, too swept up in the raw ecstasy of being pounded into delirium by his thrusting fingers. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you were hurtling towards the precipice of release, the pressure and friction building with each pump.

"G-god, Shuhei, I'm going to come," you keened, eyes squeezed shut and brow furrowing as pleasure crested within you. "Feels s-so good...gonna make me come so hard on your fingers—"

Your next words were abruptly choked off as Hisagi's fingers withdrew from your dripping heat with a slick, obscene sound. You whined, opening your eyes and fixing him with a pleading, desperate stare.

"But...but I was so close," you protested, a petulant pout tugging at your lips.

He smirked in response, reaching over to snag the discarded journal. You watched in a daze as he flipped the pages back until he reached the beginning of the entries. He held up the page before you, eyes burning and molten with unbridled hunger.

"You will read the rest of the filthy, perverted thoughts I've written about you," he ordered, the commanding gravel of his tone making a new flood of wetness seep between your thighs. "And you're not allowed to come until you’ve read the rest of the page aloud and I'm balls-deep in that tight cunt of yours."

To ease the strain, Hisagi flipped you onto your belly - the cool, smooth wood a welcome shock against the heat blazing along every inch of your flesh. You arched and moaned softly as his hands slid up the curve of your spine, pausing at the back of your neck to gather the hair falling over your shoulders and tugging it roughly.

"Now start reading," he commanded, the fat tip of his cock slowly nudging its way between your drenched, swollen folds.

You smoothed your fingers over the page, the ink now smeared slightly from the earlier encounter. Despite the lust haze still clouding your senses, you somehow managed to begin reciting the first sentence in a wavering, unsteady voice.

"S-Sometimes I imagine tying her up, gag in her mouth, legs spread wide, just so I can take my time and really learn what each twitch and tremble means. How far I can go before she’s crying, shaking, and begging me to either stop or never stop. I’d choose the latter."

"Mmm...just like that, gorgeous." Hisagi's voice was a low, rasping growl - the vibration of his tone making goosebumps break out across your flesh.

A moan escaped your lips as the blunt tip of his cock pressed into the pulsing, molten entrance to your depths. A fraction more, and he'd finally be sheathed within your cunt — filling the aching void inside with his thick, hot shaft.

You forced your attention back to the page, fighting the urge to grind back against him as you began reciting the next paragraph.

"I should’ve kissed her. Should’ve dragged her into my lap and let her grind on my thigh while I drank the moans straight from her mouth. She was soft and flushed and laughing like sin itself, and I stopped it. Fucking coward. She would’ve let me devour her. I know it. And I went home instead—hard, aching, losing my fucking mind while her taste haunted my lips."

Hisagi's fingers dug into your waist as you read, his breath punching out in harsh pants. His hips snapped forward, driving the full, straining length of his cock into your cunt without warning.

You cried out, head dropping back as the stretch and burn of being speared open made your toes curl. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but the deliciously full sensation of having him sheathed in your molten core soon overwhelmed any pain.

"Fuck...that's it, kitten." He groaned, pulling out a few inches before slamming back inside again. "Took me in so well, didn't you? Look at you, all split open on my cock and leaking all over the place..."

A ragged whimper fell from your lips, the words dissolving into incoherence as he repeated the movement — slowly dragging his thick, pulsing length out to the tip and then driving it home in one harsh thrust. Hisagi set a steady, relentless pace, fucking you onto his shaft in a brutal, claiming rhythm.

You couldn't help the wanton noises and babbling falling freely from your mouth, the sensation of his girth filling and stretching your inner walls to the limit leaving you utterly delirious. Your hips bucked and ground against him, instinctively trying to meet each of his powerful strokes as they drove his shaft into the deepest recesses of your core.

Hisagi's own groans and grunts were equally unrestrained, the grip on your hips bordering on bruising as he hammered his cock into your molten cunt with abandon. Every plunge of his shaft sent a fresh pulse of heat crackling through your nerves, your climax building once more despite the denied release earlier.

"Keep reading, beautiful," he commanded, his voice roughened by lust.

"C-Can't..." You moaned, the rest of the words dying on your tongue as the delicious friction of his shaft plowing your cunt sent you hurtling towards the edge.

Hisagi leaned over, bracing his arms on either side of your torso. The shift in angle allowed him to grind his hips against the curve of your ass, driving the head of his cock directly into the spongy, hypersensitive patch inside. You couldn't bite back the keening wail that escaped, your fingers clawing at the edge of the desk and thighs shaking.

"Read," he snarled, punctuating the word with a sharp, punishing slap to your ass.

The sudden spike of pain made you cry out, the sound morphing into a delirious moan as he kept thrusting relentlessly into your clenching, convulsing channel. Somehow, the sensation of his cock spearing you open even further with each pump was enough to pull you back from the edge.

Trembling, you forced yourself to focus once more on the words etched across the page.

"I keep thinking about how her eyes glazed over when we were close, how her breath hitched right before she leaned in. She wanted it. Wanted me. And all I could think about was how good she’d sound if I threw her onto my bed and bred her until she couldn’t speak. I could’ve had her tonight—drunk and sweet and willing. And I walked away."

The sound of Hisagi's panting breaths and the slick, obscene noises of your cunt being split open filled the silence between you. He remained buried in the molten depths, his shaft throbbing and twitching fitfully within. Your own ragged breathing mingled with the lewd sounds, head spinning with the raw sensations flooding through your body.

"Keep reading," he growled again, the gravel-edge to his tone making another fresh wave of wetness slicken your walls.

It took every ounce of willpower to continue, his cock still buried deep in your cunt and stretching you open so perfectly.

"Even now, after all this time, I’d still get on my knees for her. Not just to eat her like a man possessed—though I would, for hours—but to worship. To bury my face between her thighs and show her with every groan, every kiss, just how many years I’ve dreamed of hearing her fall apart on my tongue. She’s not just a fantasy. She’s the only softness I’ve ever craved with this much violence."

As you finished reading the final word, a sob escaped your throat. You were beyond desperate to come now, every muscle and nerve ending screaming with the need to unravel. Hisagi's movements had slowed, but still pumped his shaft into your molten, grasping cunt with a controlled, measured precision.

"Fucking hell, you're such a good girl." He rasped, the hand not clutching your hip reaching forward to stroke the sweat-dampened strands of hair away from your cheek. "Listened and followed my instructions so well for me."

The praise made you whimper, turning to nuzzle the side of your face against his calloused palm. Your eyes fluttered closed, reveling in the feel of his cock filling and stretching you to the limit, but refusing to move.

"I...I did, Shuuhei. So please...please make me come." The last part emerged in a pleading, breathless whine, all shame long since forgotten. "I've been such a good girl and listened to you, so please fuck me properly and make me come."

"God, the mouth on you," he growled, sounding torn between arousal and incredulity. His hips shifted, cock twitching against your walls and making a shudder wrack through your frame. "I'm going to be hearing that filthy little voice of yours in my head on repeat for the rest of eternity."

You couldn't find the words to respond, too overwhelmed by the way the pressure and friction was steadily mounting again. Before you could process the movement, Hisagi had pulled free from your soaked, swollen cunt. A pitiful, whining noise escaped you, hips arching up in instinctive search for his touch.

"H-hey! Why did you—"

Your protest was cut short as he flipped you onto your back once more. Your breath caught at the sight of him, the planes and contours of his body bathed in a wash of moonlight spilling through the window. His skin gleamed with sweat, and his hair was tousled and messy — his usual stoic expression replaced by something raw, unbridled, and feral.

He didn't give you any time to recover, simply hooked both of your legs over his broad shoulders and speared his thick, pulsing length back into the molten, clenching depths of your pussy. Your nails bit into his forearms, the position allowing him to drive into the deepest reaches of your cunt - each pump striking the hypersensitive bundle of nerves inside with pinpoint accuracy.

"Shuuhei, oh god...!"

You couldn't form any coherent thought as he resumed the frantic, claiming rhythm - hips pistoning in and out as his cock plunged into your slick, tight passage over and over. It was as though every other sense had fallen away, leaving only the sensation of his girth filling you up and spreading your walls wide with each plunge.

"That's it, kitten. I wanna hear those pretty noises while I'm fucking this cunt senseless." Hisagi's voice had lowered to a husky rasp, his hands gripping your thighs and holding you open for him as he drove his hips forward relentlessly.

Each thrust had the swollen, straining length of his cock grinding against the slick, dripping entrance to your cunt. You could feel your climax building, the pressure and friction spiraling tighter and tighter with each stroke. The only sound you could manage at this point were high, breathy gasps and moans - utterly incapable of coherent thought.

"Come on, beautiful. Come all over my cock like a good girl."

Hisagi's order seemed to be the trigger. Your vision whited out as pleasure crashed through you, every muscle and nerve-ending seizing with the intensity of the release. Distantly, you could hear yourself crying out - babbling incoherently as the waves of ecstasy wracked your body.

Hisagi's movements didn't slow, fucking you through the entire release until tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The sensation of your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his shaft sent him hurling towards the edge himself. Within seconds, his rhythm faltered and he slammed home one last time.

You could feel the first pulses of his orgasm spilling inside you, his cock twitching and throbbing as he pumped thick ropes of his seed into your core. His lips found yours once more, the kiss hot and hungry, the two of you devouring each other's pleasure.

After a moment, the frenzied passion gave way to a slow, languid heat - the two of you melting into each other. You couldn't help the soft whimper that escaped your throat as Hisagi pulled his softening length free, a trickle of his seed and your wetness seeping from your folds and pooling on the surface of the desk.

He immediately reached over and cupped your cheeks with both hands, tilting your face up for a slow, deep kiss. The tender gesture made your heart squeeze, and you returned it in equal measure - savoring the gentle exploration of tongues and lips.

After a long, dizzying moment, he finally broke the contact, his dark gaze burning with unguarded affection. He stroked the backs of his fingers along your cheek, brushing the tangled strands of hair back and tucking them behind your ear.

"That was even better than I'd imagined," he murmured, voice rough and still a little breathless. "I'll have to write an entry in the journal tomorrow, won't I?"

"Hmmm...only if I can read it," you retorted, giving him a saucy smile.

He smirked, leaning down to claim your mouth in another searing kiss. "You know I can't say no when you look at me like that."

[bigwishes]

Transformation Swap

a quick trade with @transformation4life

It had been a while since you had managed to get yourself to the gym and even longer since you were able to go for a dedicated strength training session. You walk into the gym and are instantly greeted by the trainer at the front desk.

"hey man long time no see!"

You become a bit flustered as exactly what you dreaded would happen came to pass, he recognised you and recognised you had taken a few weeks off.

"haha yeah, I've been really busy and don't really have time" You awkwardly stumble over your words as you try not to get distracted by the trainers arms filling out his shirt.

A moment passes and you realise the trainer was staring at you with one raised eye brow and it suddenly hits you that he had asked you a question that you didn't hear.

"eer, yeah! haha" you smile and laugh nervously trying to play it off like you understood what he was saying.

"great!" the trainer quickly ducked under the desk and came back up a moment later with a shiny golden key card, "that should help you get in the gym at night"

You take the card from his hand and let out a small sigh of relief that it was just a night access card and you hadn't accidentally agreed to some weight lifting classes. Looking at the card it was a bright gold with the black silhouette of a bodybuilder doing a double bicep pose. On the back was a back code and nothing else. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

You thank the trainer and make your way to the scan in terminal, as you pull out your regular white scan card the trainer quickly calls out to you to scan your new card so he can set it up for access. Fumbling your bag in your hands you swap the cards back and scan your way in with the new card. The terminal light flashed green and you walked through the steel gate. As you left the lobby area your body began to feel warm, like someone had put the heating on in the gym.

walking over to the bag rack you take your hoodie off and put your bag away as go off to start your workout. Working out your body begins to feel warmer and warmer, with each rep your muscles feel more and more exhausted and pumped up with blood, your skin feels tight and rubs against your clothes. You didn't think about it much at first but as you continued to workout you felt uncomfortable as your clothes got tighter and tighter. Your biceps felt like they were about to split through your shirt and then you saw yourself in the mirror.

At first you didn't even know it was you, your clothes now skin tight and muscles huge. You took a moment to flex your bicep when it split straight through your sleeve.

"ah fuck"

leaning across yourself with your other arm to check how bad the tear was you heard a much louder tearing noise and felt the fabric split across your back, if you weren't careful you'd bust out of your clothes in the middle of the gym.

Making your way to the gym lost and found you find a 6XL tank top and shorts, no way it will fit you but its better than what you are currently wearing and you just need something to get out of here and get back to your car.

Slipping on the loose clothing your muscles feel tighter and tighter by the second. At one point you were sure the skin around your biceps was about to split open. Moving started to feel like a chore as it began to feel like something was weighing you down, like you were trying to pull a car that had been piled onto your back.

As you make your way back out into the weights room you hear yourself taking deep heavy breaths, it takes a few seconds to fully inflate your lungs and the clothes begin to feel tight again. You stop and lean against a bench to catch your breath, looking up you see yourself in the mirror....could it really be you...

"fuck...how'd I get so....big" you struggle to say between gasps of air trying to catch your breath.

Almost automatically you began posing , you could feel your muscle wasn't done expanding as the tightness continued to get worse in your body. You moan as you flex trying to ignore the ever stretching discomfort as your body expanded even more. You could hear the fibres in the tank top barely holding together and you tried to take it off. You looked stupid desperately trying to lift the tank top up and off your body as your huge muscles collided and the fabric got stuck on your pecs. Finally you were able to slip it off and you stood in the mirror panting, your chest heaving up and down filling with oxygen making your frame impressively wider for a few seconds with each breath.

A wave of pain washed over you as you felt blood desperately try to get into your muscles to support their colossal size. Veins appeared all over your body visibly pumping, they then began to appear on your forehead and temples, you grimaced in pain rubbing your temples trying to ease the headache but it was starting to become hard to think...

You looked at yourself in the mirror you were big, you came here....to get big....yes, big and get big....big...get big....

You took a few steps forward to the dumbbell rack, already panting again from the amount of effort it was to move your massive frame. You picked up the largest dumbbells you could see as the numbers didn't make sense and you began lifting.

As you curled you felt the pleasure of your muscles pumping with size, as you panted to keep your breath your fat tongue fell out of your mouth slightly without you even noticing....be big....get big....big...big....big....big...

the only word you could make out in your mind

and the gym claims another gold member....

[chrissssssmut]

yandere liz x male reader where reader gets punished by liz for breaking her rules but gets taken care of afterwards

(btw thank u for ur hard work. the consistency in quantity and quality is crazy)

OBEDIENCE IS DEVOTION (Yandere w/ Smut)

Yandere Liz x Male Reader

AN: Im slowly losing my juice but i am determined to keep writing RAHHHH🫡

Liz never raised her voice. She never needed to. Her rules weren’t barked or shouted—they were whispered into your skin, in the quiet moments when her arms were around you and her lips grazed the shell of your ear. “No phones. No guests. And never open the basement door.” She said it with a kiss to your temple, like a bedtime promise. You didn’t question it. You didn’t want to. Liz made life too easy. She cooked for you. She folded your laundry. She laughed at your jokes like they were the only things that had ever made her smile. The apartment was warm, bright, filled with the scent of eucalyptus and her shampoo. You told yourself that was love. You told yourself the rules were just her way of keeping things simple. But the door—the one at the end of the hallway, behind the laundry room—it blinked. Just a little red light above the keypad, faint but always there, always watching. You’d catch yourself looking at it without even realizing. And she’d always catch you.

“You’re thinking too much again,” she’d say sweetly, brushing your hair back, her nails barely grazing your scalp. “That little brain of yours is so noisy sometimes. I like it better when you’re calm.”

You always nodded. You always agreed. Because Liz’s voice made it so hard to say no. Because she smiled like everything she said made perfect sense, like she wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable. And maybe it wasn’t, not really. Until she left one afternoon, her purse forgotten on the counter, and that red light blinked at you again. You didn’t even realize you were moving until you were in front of the keypad. Her birthday. That was the code. Of course it was. The door clicked open like it had been waiting for you all along.

The air inside was still, unnaturally cold. You stepped down slowly, each wooden stair creaking under your weight. And then—photos. Hundreds. Pinned to corkboards, stuck to walls, framed on shelves. All of you. Sleeping. Eating. Showering. Crying. Pictures you couldn’t remember anyone taking. Notes in her handwriting. A piece of your hair, taped beside a list of your habits. Your old phone. Your letters. Your discarded things. It was a shrine. A museum of you.

“You really couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Her voice didn’t make you jump. It was too soft, too calm for that. You turned and saw her standing at the top of the stairs, lit from behind like an angel. One hand resting on the rail. Her face unreadable. She began descending slowly, not a single step rushed.

“You always do this,” she murmured. “You push. You test me. And I forgive you every time, don’t I?”

You opened your mouth but no words came out.

“Because I love you.”

She reached the bottom and stopped in front of you, eyes tracing your face with quiet intensity. Then her hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye.

“You make it so hard to keep you safe.”

The kiss she gave you was feather-light. So gentle it didn’t feel like punishment at all. “Upstairs,” she whispered against your lips.

You followed her, silent and dazed. She took your hand like nothing had happened, like you were walking home from a date and not returning from the discovery of your own surveillance. In the bedroom, she turned and looked at you.

“Take your shirt off.”

You hesitated.

Her voice didn’t change. “Now.”

You peeled it off. She smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling a ribbon from her hair and sliding it slowly between her fingers.

“Kneel.”

You did. And she leaned forward, wrapping the ribbon tightly around your wrists. It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t even tight. But it held. Her hands lingered on you, fingertips brushing your veins.

“There,” she whispered. “That’s better.”

She kissed your chest, your ribs, the hollow of your throat—worshipful, almost reverent. “I’m not angry,” she murmured. “You just scared me. You made me think I wasn’t enough.”

You tried to speak, but she climbed into your lap, hoodie still on, her bare thighs warm around your waist. Her lips hovered just above yours. “Don’t talk. Just listen.”

Her fingers brushed your cock, barely touching. Teasing. Cruel.

“You don’t get to cum,” she whispered, voice syrup-sweet. “Not yet. Not until you understand.”

Her hand wrapped around your aching cock slowly, deliberately, stroking with just enough pressure to keep you trembling. Her lips pressed to your jaw.

“Tell me what you did wrong.”

“I… opened the door.”

“Why?”

“Because I was curious. Because—”

“No. Say it right.”

“Because you told me not to.”

Her mouth curved into a smile. “Because I love you,” she corrected again. “Say it.”

“Because you love me.”

Her strokes grew just a little firmer, just enough to make your legs shake.

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Liz. I’m yours.”

“Good boy.”

She kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue brushing yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. She pulled her shorts aside, and in one smooth motion, she sank down onto you, wet and warm and slow. You gasped, but she covered your mouth with her hand, eyes wide and gentle.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She rode you like she had all the time in the world, slow and steady, keeping you right on the edge while her nails left faint trails on your chest. She leaned forward and kissed your temple, your lips, your nose. “You feel that?” she breathed. “That’s love. That’s how deep I want to be. Always.”

You couldn’t last. Not like that. When you came, it was raw and shaky and overwhelming, and she moaned as if your surrender meant more than anything. She clung to you, her forehead pressed to yours.

“See?” she whispered. “You don’t need anything else.”

She untied you gently, like she was worried she might hurt your skin. Then she cleaned you off with a warm towel, humming quietly under her breath. You didn’t know what to say. She tucked you under the blanket and curled around you like you might vanish if she didn’t hold you close enough.

In the morning, you woke to sunlight spilling across the bed and the smell of strawberries and toast. A tray waited beside you. Liz was in the kitchen, wearing your shirt, hair still messy, humming a tune you vaguely recognized.

“You were out cold,” she said with a smile. “I made breakfast.”

You stared at her. “Liz… last night…”

She tilted her head. “Hmm?”

“You tied me up.”

“No, baby,” she said sweetly. “You must’ve dreamed that.”

You sat up. Your wrists still bore the faintest marks. She saw you looking and leaned in to kiss them.

“You poor thing. You’ve been so stressed.”

She fed you a strawberry. It tasted like it was laced with guilt and comfort.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

She kissed your cheek and whispered, “Everything I do… is because I love you.”

That night, the keypad on the basement door had changed. She stood next to it, her hand resting casually on the panel.

“No more sneaking around,” she said softly. “You don’t want me to get upset again, do you?”

You shook your head.

She smiled like you’d said something beautiful, something perfect.

And in that moment, you realized—she never gets upset. She doesn’t need to. Because she knows, in the end, you always come back to her.

That night, the house was too quiet.

You lay on the couch, barely blinking, your thoughts looping in tight, suffocating circles. You could still hear her voice echoing in your head—You must’ve dreamed that. You stared at your wrists, where the faint marks remained, pink and fading, like they weren’t supposed to mean anything.

Liz appeared behind you without a sound.

"Bedroom," she said softly.

You looked up at her. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t angry, either. Her face was unreadable—like she already knew what would happen, and your part was just to follow along.

You obeyed. The hallway was long and dark, but you didn’t need to be guided. You sat on the edge of the bed, your body heavy with dread and something darker that you didn’t want to name.

Liz came in a moment later. She closed the door gently and crossed the room with slow, measured steps. She didn’t say anything at first—just stood in front of you and tilted your chin up with two fingers. Her nails were painted a pale, sheer pink.

“Take off your clothes.”

You hesitated.

“Now.”

You peeled your shirt over your head and kicked off your pants, trembling slightly as her eyes trailed over your exposed skin. Her expression didn’t change, but her breathing slowed as she looked at you—like you were something rare and fragile, something hers.

She sat down beside you, her thigh brushing yours, the bed dipping just slightly under her weight. Her lips hovered near your ear, and you could feel the warmth of her breath before you even heard her voice.

“Say the rules.”

Your throat tightened. You knew what she wanted.

“No phones,” you whispered.

Her hand slid onto your thigh, warm and soft.

“No guests.”

Her fingers moved slowly inward.

“And…”

You swallowed. “Never open the basement door.”

“Good,” she murmured. “Now tell me what you did.”

You closed your eyes. “I opened the door.”

She made a soft sound—almost a coo—and her hand reached your cock, fingers curling around it, lazy and light, like she had all the time in the world. She stroked you once, slow and deliberate.

“You broke my trust,” she whispered, her lips brushing the edge of your ear. “You disobeyed me.”

You nodded helplessly.

“Keep going.”

“I… I looked through your things.”

Her hand moved again, just enough to keep you on edge. She kissed your temple, her mouth open slightly, her breath warm and steady.

“And what did you see?”

“Pictures. Of me.”

“And did you like it?” Her voice was impossibly gentle.

You didn’t answer.

Her hand stilled. Her other hand touched your jaw, guiding your face to hers until you had no choice but to meet her eyes. There was no anger. Just calm, endless patience.

“Tell the truth,” she whispered. “Did it turn you on?”

You felt your face heat up. You wanted to lie. You didn’t.

“A little.”

Her smile returned—small, indulgent. Her grip tightened just slightly.

“That’s okay,” she said sweetly. “It’s normal to be excited when someone loves you this much. When someone would do anything to keep you.”

She leaned in, her nose brushing your cheek, her hand moving again—slower this time, more deliberate.

“You’re mine,” she whispered. “Even your shame. Even your fear. It all belongs to me.”

You moaned softly, your body tensing under her slow, rhythmic strokes. Her other hand slid across your chest, fingers splayed over your heart.

“You can cum,” she breathed into your ear, “but only when I say.”

Her hand didn’t stop. It was maddening. You were so close, held there by her voice and her scent and her soft, dangerous touch.

“Say it again,” she whispered.

“I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Liz.”

Her mouth found your neck, teeth grazing your skin—not biting, not yet—just enough to make you freeze.

“Good boy,” she purred.

And you came undone in her hand.

She held you through it, kissed your ear, cleaned you off with quiet precision. Not a word of cruelty. No scolding. Just the same eerie affection she always had, like you were her most precious thing in the world.

As she tucked you into bed, brushing the hair from your eyes, she kissed your lips gently and whispered, “You did so well tonight. I’m proud of you.”

You stared at the ceiling long after she curled into you, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, her breath soft against your back.

Somewhere in your chest, your heart ached—and not because she hurt you. But because some part of you had started to believe she really was the only one who would love you this completely.

[lovebugism]

Ok but what about Eddie dating a reader who snores and the gang is like wtf but he finds it cute.

ty for requesting anon! this is dedicated to everyone who gets sleepy at 5pm like i do hahah — eddie's girlfriend falls asleep during movie night and it's a big deal in the sweetest way (sleepy gf!reader, established relationship, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

A masked serial killer slaughters a group of pretty teenage girls. Their screams are high-pitched and painfully artificial. The murderer’s chainsaw is way too loud and far too dramatic a weapon. The bright red blood splatters across the baby pink bedroom in several obnoxiously vivid splotches. 

Eddie Munson has never been more grateful to be alive in the golden age of slasher films — the absolute peak of godawful cinema.

He turns to the pretty little thing dozing on his shoulder and grins quietly to himself. 

You’re the purest essence of beauty in all forms, but especially compared to the barbaric horror flashing across the television screen across the room. In the darkness, the neon glow paints you in varying shades of blue, green, and dark red. 

You’re so pretty it hurts.

Eddie didn’t think he could love anything more than dumb slasher movies. Not until he met you, anyway.

“Tired?” he whispers to you when your lashes flutter across the apples of your cheeks.

It’s hardly seven o’clock — the sun has just barely set over the horizon — and more than anything, the tiny trailer is filled with fake screams and faker blood. Most people would be too horrified to be so drowsy. Not you, though.

Everyone’s always admired your relationship with sleep, but maybe just a little extra now.

Your features are blurry with the longing of slumber. They scrunch in refusal when you shake your head, cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of Eddie’s thrifted tee. “No,” you hum with a softness that says otherwise. “‘M just cozy…”

Everyone knows what that’s code for.

All the gang was over for movie night — some more begrudgingly than others (Steve, namely). The brunette boy shares a side eye with Robin on the other side of the couch before both of them turn to look at you. 

Lucas sits on the floor and stuffs his face with popcorn, which he almost chokes on when he laughs. Max giggles at the boy in response from where she’s sandwiched between him and Dustin.

Each of them can practically count down the seconds until you’re fully asleep.

You inhale once — deeply, sharply. The curly-haired boy turns his wrist to check his watch. 

“7 p.m…” Dustin observes with raised brows. He nods to himself like he’s impressed. “That’s gotta be some kinda record, right?”

“I’m pretty sure she was out by six when we were at Steve’s yesterday,” Robin tells him as she leans over Lucas’ shoulder for the popcorn bowl he’s holding hostage.

“Full on snoring by six-thirty,” Steve concurs through a mouthful of candy. “And her legs were on my lap, too, so I couldn’t move for, like, two hours.”

“What about last movie night?” Max questions with pinched brows. “I’m pretty sure she was asleep before it even started.”

Lucas shakes his head. “She was just napping, right? I’m pretty sure she woke up, like, halfway through.”

Dustin nods — the official connoisseur of you and all your sleepiness. You had been asleep by the time Steve turned The Outsiders on, but your internalized love for Dallas Winston had woken you part of the way through. 

“It had to be scrubbed from the records,” the boy explains like it’s something a whole lot more official than you just being tired. “It only counts if she stays asleep.”

“What if her eyes are closed, and she’s using your arm as a pillow, and you don’t have any feeling left in your fingers?” Robin questions with narrowed eyes, recounting the events from the last movie night in question. “What about that?”

“Still doesn’t count,” Dustin shakes his head with a feigned sympathy.

Eddie listens to them with a distant smile on his face. They’re not making fun of you exactly, just noticing all your little idiosyncrasies that he loves so much. It’s what makes you you — the quiet, sleepy girl that’s all but the glue of the group. 

If you’re somewhere else when everyone’s all hanging out together, and not snoozing on someone’s shoulder, something just doesn’t feel right.

“Isn’t she the fuckin’ cutest?” the boy muses amidst the light-hearted banter, the horror movie long forgotten. 

His bright smile and twinkling eyes are met with a group of deadpanned stares. 

It isn’t because you aren’t cute, because you are. Why else would Robin and Steve let you use them as pillows even after their appendages have long gone numb? You’re like a cat sleeping on their stomach — it’s too much of an honor to wake you. 

Their dumbfounded gapes are more so a result of Eddie’s adoration for you. Because you’re you, and Eddie’s… Eddie. 

You’re polar opposites. 

You’re quiet and sweet and gentle, and Eddie’s never been any of those things once in his life. 

You’ve brought out a softer side of him — one that none of them thought a brash metalhead like him could ever have. He talks to you far sweeter and far more gently than he’d ever speak to the rest of them. Mostly because he knows you get spooked too easily and that you always wince whenever people yell. And his PDA is an innocent kind, full of held hands and forehead kisses and boops to the tip of your nose. 

Eddie Munson is so soft for you that he lets you drool on his shoulder and unknowingly steal all the covers from him when you fall asleep during movie night. 

He’s so far gone for you that he’ll let you drag him to bed when most people his age are heading out to party for the night — just so you can drool on him and take all the covers from him in his bedroom, where you can sleep more comfortably than on the couch.

It’s all so sweet, it’s downright disgusting.

“It’s gross how in love the two of you are,” Steve monotones, the only one brave enough to say it out loud even though they’re all thinking it.

“I know,” Eddie affirms with a wide grin. “It’s amazing, huh?”

They all grumble under their breaths about it, obviously not as mushy with adoration as he is. 

It isn’t his fault they’re miserable because they don’t have their own soulmate who gets tired at 5 p.m. and snoozes on their shoulder accordingly. They’d be a lot less crabby if they had someone like you to gush about. 

Not you, though. ‘Cause you’re his and everything. But someone just like you, maybe.

Everyone dissipates when the credits of the movie start to roll — either to get more food, or use the bathroom, or stretch their aching limbs. 

Eddie stays unmoving. He doesn’t want to wake you up.

You begin to rouse on his shoulder, shifting as you wake with a deep inhale-exhale. Your eyes flutter slowly open, and through the haze of sleep, you notice the empty living room and the scrolling names on the television screen.

“’S the movie over?” you question, slurred with the heaviness of slumber.

Eddie nods lazily against the couch. 

He’s about as tired as you are now, with his legs cocked up on the coffee table and his head lolled back against the cushions. “Yeah. It’s okay, though. You didn’t really miss anything,” he assures with a crooked smile.

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep…” you murmur, like you’re embarrassed to have slept so soundly.

“I know,” the boy hums softly to you. “’S okay…”

Your temple rests against his shoulder once more. “Wake me up before you start the next movie?” you ask when Eddie presses a lingering kiss to your hair. Your eyes are already fluttered shut again.

“Sure,” he answers, despite lacking any real intention to wake you. 

He’d much rather let you sleep. He knows you need it. He doesn’t mind that you get tired before the sun has set, even though he knows how much you hate it. He couldn’t love it more, personally.

So, he lets you fall back asleep on his shoulder and tries to ignore how much it makes his heart swell. His ribcage shakes with the intensity of how much he loves you — how privileged he feels that you trust him enough to drool on his shoulder and not be embarrassed about any of it. You know he loves you too much for any of that.

“She still asleep?” Steve questions when the gang settles back in the living room. He rattles M&Ms in his palms before chucking a handful into his mouth. When Eddie nods, the boy snorts. “I’m glad it’s your arm falling asleep this time and not mine.”

Eddie’s glad for it, too.

[stealthetrees]

So this is more of an AU of the fandom AU where the Coruscant Guard live in a shitty run down building that’s falling apart. But Commander Fox finds this unacceptable so he clears out a warehouse used for storage and builds a shiny new headquarters. The original building they fix up, but only the lobby, a couple offices, and the med bay so troopers on senate duty can stay there due to its proximity to the senate building. Their new building they can go nuts with, adding all sorts of stuff that they arnt allowed to have.

An entire room is filled with tv monitors so they can slice into security cameras around the planet and see everything. They get a nice rec room, an area for the engineers to play around with ideas, even an office for the medics to make you talk about your feelings. A server room is dedicated solely to storing and orgonizing blackmail collected on pretty much everyone worth mentioning on Coruscant.

But after one secret building, what’s another? Areas of strategic importance are carefully chosen and a new headquarters is established nearby. They are each given code names. The original building is still Headquarters, the new main building is the Barracks. The Office is where they run intelligence and investigations from. IT Department is next to the industrial district. The Kennals are much lower than some of their other buildings, a small station set up to monitor the rancor infestation (Thorn moves down there to become a cowboy after he “dies” on Scipio). The Lobby is set in the lower civilian levels as a way to help the people who arnt rich enough to bribe politicians into getting what they want. The Med Bay started as just somewhere for big surgeries, physical therapy and prosthetics, but which the “generous donations” they acquire it grows into a hospital for civilians as well, completely free, and they start hiring nat born doctors, surgeons and nurses while paying them well and proving a great work environment. Adding a therapist office helped a lot of troopers as well.

The system takes a long time to build and works perfectly. Until Fox figures out Palpatine is a Sith. It’s not actually world shattering news, but it does give him a panic attack after realizing Palpatine though Fox already knew, because he had threatened the chancellor with a slug thrower instead of a blaster. Through questions to his batch mates with Jedi generals he learns that Sith can influence people’s minds and decides that in order for the clone rights bill to pass Palpatine needs to die.

And die he does. The rest of the conservative senators are swayed by a mix of blackmail, bribes, and bomb threats. The bill does pass, and most of them are instantly arrested for sentient rights violations, assault, and various other crimes because government property can’t serve as a witness in a civilian court of law.

The timing of all this could not be worse, as two of Fox’s batch mates where on planet, Cody and Wolffe, and they loved to stick their noses in his business. Which means when a lot of Corries are injured in the fight with the senate guards and private security while trying to make arrests, Cody and Wolffe help get them back to Headquarters, because it’s much closer than the Barracks. But Headquarters has a very small med bay because so few troopers use it. So they are over crowded and run out of bacta.

Also Cody gets turned around in the hallway and discovers how bad the rest of the building is. So Fox has a choice to make. He grabs Cody and Wolffe and drags them outside and back to the GAR barracks while texting Thire and telling him he has an hour and a half to make Headquarters look lived in. Then Fox opens a one way comm line with every Corrie so they can keep the story straight as he answers his brothers questions.

Fox commits to the bit so hard they believe the Guard is suffering horribly from abuse and budget cuts while in reality they just steal money from what ever rich person they have the freshest blackmail from. He could just tell them all the illegal things he’s been up to, but Fox would rather die than tell someone more than they needed to know.

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Lucifer, Charlie, and alastor with a Kitsune reader ? :0

Hazbin Hotel x Kitsune! Reader

(Lucifer, Charlie, and Alastor)

Safe for all Audiences!

Warnings: None! Gn! Reader! Reader being a mischievous Little Kitsune, chaos ensues.

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1101

A/n: Hi! thank you for the request! This isn’t terribly long so I hopes that’s ok!

Now, I wasn’t entirely sure if you want this to be Romantic or Platonic so I kept it pretty vague so it could be interpreted as either! I hope that’s ok, if not just send another request and I’ll fix it!!

But either way I hope you enjoy it because i enjoyed writing it!! <3

Proofread once soooo… if there are any errors please ignore them/inform me 😭

Lucifer

When you first arrived in hell, he wasnt the most impressed by you. Not in a mean way or anything, just that he’s lived for a long time and has met a plethora of different types of beings so he’s pretty used to meeting interesting looking people.

But even he has to admit that he was intrigued with you. Your 9 well-groomed and lush tails that quietly followed you with every step and the fur of your fox ears looked soft to the touch. The thing that he seemed to notice most though was the whole eloquent aura you had with every movement you did. Smooth, almost tranquil.

You being a Kitsune did cause you to stir up a bit of… let's say trouble. Your fox nature of course caused you to have a personality that leaned a bit mischievously. You weren’t malicious by any means, you judt had a very… unique taste in humor and how you wish to spend your time. Pranks, stealing random objects that interest you, and going places that you probably should be. This gets you in trouble with many a folk but it’s really not something you can’t handle.

On one of these occasions. you took interest in his custom made duckys. First off, it was something new to you, 2nd, you had never seen someone be this interested in ducks as him, so when you randomly stumbled into the big man of hell’s workspace that’s filled to the brim of them, each with unique features and colorful designs, needless to say you were quite interested.

He was a bit embarrassed at first when you found it but seeing that you genuinely were into them he literally couldnt stop showing them off. Going into almost ecrusiating detail of each one's design choices. (This man is so autistic-coded. I love him so much)

He even made a custom one for you which he gave you when both met again. It was a basic duck design, except it had 9 tail feathers and wore fox ears that clearly mimicked your own, including your fur pattern. He then spent an hour going through each of its features with you. To say you were grateful would be an understatement.

“And if you pull this feather back… Bubbles! Oh-ho, and that's not all! If you take this and-”

Charlie

Definitely more impressed than her father would be. Of course she has been in hell literally all her life and has seen some weird, wacky, hot and cool people but it still doesnt not surprise her when she finds interesting people. When you first met her she was really interested in you, asking a bunch of questions and It was almost scary how enthusuatsic about it she got.

She then started talking about her brand new “Hazbin Hotel.” It was something to reform sinners so that they had a chance at redemption. Charlie seemed so excited to tell you about it that you honestly did have the heart to tell her that you didn’t exactly believe a soul could be redeemed.

Now depending on if you’re hellborn or a sinner, things can go a bit differently. If youre hellborn she’ll offer you a job at the hotel, well to say a job would be a lie, you didn’t really have 1 given task to do, you just helped out when needed. if you’re a sinner, you of course get to stay in a room at the hotel. Whether you actually go along and try to get better is up to you. It was a free place to sleep, so hey? Might as well. Either way though, Charlie always sees the good in people, hellborn or not. So she would obviously want to help you grow as a person even if you are hellborn.

The michevues aspects of your personality tends to cause some problems for the hotel at times. Fights happen, lessons have ended prematurely, and you may have accidentally caused a bar fight between Angel and Sir Pentious. It really was an accident, how was you supposed to know “borrowing” one of Pentious’ shiny tools would cause such a ruckus?

Charlie lectored you about taking others' stuff and made you apologize.

As much as Charlie doesn’t want to admit it (at least before episode 5) she’s a lot like her dad. That also expands to their likeness for your fur. She really can’t take her eyes away from it, it just looks so soft and neat… and soft… eventually you catch her staring at your tails and you just laugh and ask her if she wants to touch them.

“What!? Pfft, noooo, no no no. hehe…he…unless you’re offering…”

Alastor

Considering Alastor died in the 20’s I don’t think he knows what a Kitsune is exactly. Which is probably why he’s the most interesting in you at first glance (you could have also met when he first manifested in hell, which would only further his intrigue)

Either way, your personalities seemed to mesh well for the most part. You both stir up trouble wherever you go (Alastor a bit more… maliciously than you but still)

Whether you’re hellborn or a sinner is irrelevant to how he treats you, though he has tried making a deal with you every once and a while. You always decline but he thinks it’s always worth a shot to ask.

Alastor is aware of your devious behavior and knows the best way to handle it if it ever happens to come his way. He knows that you’re harmless and not a threat which is exactly why he has taken a liking to you. You’re someone who can only really help his cause and nothing bad can really come out of you being around.

Pranks though, are the one thing that Alastor can’t seem to sway you out of doing. He can’t even begin to count the amount of times he’s been at the front end of them. Of course he always sees through them and they’ve never once worked, but boy are you sure determined to one day get him.

This was one such case where you attempted to steal and hide his radio cane while he was asleep, only for him to sneak up shadow form and scare you half to double death

“You’re going to have to try harder than that to pull one past me, my, oh-so dear, exquisitely fluffy friend”

[alexa-yukiyu]

Hey! Have you ever seen Masha and the bear?

I was just thinking this idea while making breakfast for my family, so how about Masha!reader x Whitebeard pirates or young!Asl. You pick.

Thanks! Have a good day

Treasure Hound (Asl x child!reader)

A/N- and with this I officially have finished my June/July requests ✊🏽. Goal is to finish september’s this week. Also I have in fact never heard of this animation which is crazy after I read how popular it is so I tried to capture Masha as best I could but it probably is not that close but hopefully close enough!

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Reader in Japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers alike!

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

“Sabo, are you sure she’s related to you?” Ace asked incredulously from his spot on his branch, watching as she rambunctiously ran around the clearing, putting even Luffy to shame as the latter struggled to keep up with the smaller girl

“Of course she is!” Had Sabo not known Ace to be so blunt, he would have likely taken offense at such a question

“Doesn’t look like that,” he muttered, taking a glance at the blond and looking back at the girl as she ran circles around Luffy, causing the latter to grow dizzy and fall back, eyes rolling around in his sockets

“She just needs to burn out all her energy. It’s always like this in the mornings,” he replied, letting out a snicker as Dokucha began shaking the poor boy in an attempt to snap him awake.

"We should let her take a look at the map we found the other day; maybe she can crack it," Sabo piped up

“No way! Sabo, we busted our asses trying to get that map; I‘m not about to trust it to a four-year-old!” Ace sneered, not willing to risk their latest treasure to what he thought to be an unnecessary risk

“She’s a lot, Ace, but she wouldn’t purposely try to destroy something, especially if she knows it’s important to me. Not to mention that, yes, she’s four, but she’s really smart; she’s especially good with plans and drafts like these,” Sabo called as he pulled out the Map

“Come on, Ace, trust me! Plus, I‘m pretty sure giving her the lead will tire her and Luffy, too!” He grinned, knowing that would be the last push the former needed

“Tch, if something happens, it’s on you,” he snarled, finally easing into his suggestion, ignoring the satisfied smirk the blond gave him as he jumped off the branch

“Dokucha come here! I got something for you!” He called, watching as the girl zoomed towards him, leaving the poor Luffy to fend off his spinning brain.

“Do you want to go on a treasure hunt?” he offered as he waved the map around, knowing the hyperactive child would never say no to an adventure or the chance to use her skills.

“Yeah!” She exclaimed as she snatched it from his hand and threw herself on the ground with him, stretching the map before them; Ace and Luffy following shortly after.

“We know the treasure is around here, but we couldn’t figure out these,” Ace told her as he pointed out what appeared to be a random arrangement of letters and numbers.

“Ah! It’s a cipher!” She beamed, stretching her arm out towards his brother without taking her eyes off the map; without any need for words, he handed her a pencil, watching as she began scribbling furiously

“Oh, what is that?!” Luffy questioned as he leaned in. Watching as the girl began to draw what looked to be a table, with each boxed being filled with a letter of the alphabet, adding some letters and numbers to the side and top of the table

“It’s a Grid code! Each letter and number stands for a specific letter! I just have to see where they intercept,” she prattled on as she continued writing away

“You already solved it?!” Ace gaped. The boy stared at the scribbles, shocked. He knew he wasn’t the best at solving puzzles, but he had thought himself to be above the girl in front of him.

“Told you she was smart,” Sabo boasted, a prideful glint in his eyes.

“Alright!” Dokucha exclaimed as she shot up from her spot, not paying any mind to the boys as she sprinted away following the directions she had deciphered from the map

“W-wait Dokucha! You need to wait for us!” Sabo called as he ran after the girl

“Don’t lose sight of her, Sabo!” Ace yelled as he, too, shot after the girl

“Hey! Wait for me!” Luffy cried as he followed after them

“Sabo, what the hell did your parents feed her?” Ace huffed out as he and Sabo threw themselves into the comfort of their sleeping bags. After they followed the girl as she traversed through the forest, crossed through rivers, and climbed mountains, they were exhausted, but it had been worth it after they had managed to find the biggest loot they had in years. To make it even better, it turns out that the plan had worked perfectly as Dokucha had also been tired out, not after running and bouncing around the place for another hour, which had also taken Luffy out.

“Well, our father and mother didn’t really fancy a daughter; they didn’t have any immediate use for her, so they just…locked her in a room, forcing her to study hours on end with no other entertainment but the books around her. So she hasn’t had the chance to run and play around like this.” Sabo sighed as he forced himself up and walked towards her, throwing a blanket over her and Luffy before returning to his spot next to Ace.

“Well, you’re parents are assholes, but we will show them, Sabo! Once we get our ship, we will show them all wrong.” he grinned as he lifted himself slightly to address his brother

“You will be a pirate that everyone will know the name of, and I will show Dokucha how big the world is and write a book about it.” Sabo grinned

“And Luffy will ****************” Ace cackled, remembering the jaw-dropping dream the crazy boy had uttered

“We will take this world by surprise, us four!”

Listen had to had my Oda moment with Luffy’s dream

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