#barely comes up for air but that’s okay

[moon-my-beloved]

neighbors (tf141 x fem! reader)

part II: company

tw: a bit of obsession and touches from the boys but nothing sexual!! possessiveness. mentions of reader fitting ‘snug’ in a dress but nothing too specific. that’s it. - xoxo

the ride back home was quiet.

silence stretching over the small murmurs of the radio warning people of temperatures dropping along with the sound of the engine running as you drove, grocery bags shoved into the back of the seat.

it really wasn’t until you made it home that you had snapped out of your momentarily dream-like state that you realized what you have done.

you still couldn’t believe it. why couldn’t you just have come up with something, anything to avoid making a fool of yourself with how bad you’re with people.

“oh god,” you groan to yourself. pressing your forehead against the steering wheel with embarrassment taking over your senses. why of all times did you just have to coincidently bump into them?!

you really would’ve preferred it if you had encountered them on a free day and not when you’re trudging around the damn store with your dingy old work clothes. then again, kyle and johnny seemed.. trustworthy at first glance. not to mention how beautiful they were.

they carried an air to them that felt friendly enough but dangerous as well. your brain going blank for a moment when you were surrounded by the two men. an invisible thread luring you into their trap. you don’t know if it was kyles sweet voice or the smell of amber from johnny’s cologne, but they had left you with a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. leaving you in a trance for a split-second before uttering the only syllables you could think of.

blood rushes to your face with shame thinking about them in such ways. how long has it been since you’ve experienced this? clearly long enough from the looks of it. your palms are sweaty, breath a bit short, and your heart is practically beating its way out of your chest like you’re some sort of high school girl being forced to confess to their crush.

you jolt a bit at the sound of a small “buzz” coming from your phone. your eyes almost bulging out of your skull when you unlock your screen— it’s a message from johnny and kyle.

< made a small group chat to make it easier. hope you don’t mind luv.

< we’ll see ye tmrw night, right bonnie?

your fingers hover over the keys, chewing at your bottom lip anxiously as you contemplate how to respond. kyle had mentioned meeting the rest of the team, ignoring how just the thought of talking to them made you want to curl yourself up into a ball until you became invisible. it really wouldn’t hurt to meet them. it will be okay. they were your neighbors for god sake.

taking a deep breath, you typed out what you were going to say.

> sure! sounds good. :)

you barely managed to calm down your nerves before your phone vibrated again.

< atta girl. we’ll see ye at 6.

what did you get yourself into.

you had nearly forgotten how much effort it takes to get ready.

you really weren’t one to wake up early, especially during your off days but today was an exemption. hopping into the shower to shave, exfoliate, moisturize, and pretty much scrub off every crevice from your body as soon as your alarm went off. practically stumbling your way out of the bathroom with how lightheaded you felt by the end of it.

your makeup was next. trying your best to copy a look off of pinterest and almost calling it a day with the many times you had to redo your eyeliner. nevertheless, you had successfully overcome that obstacle. which brings you to your own little dilemma: you had nothing good to wear.

all the clothes varied from old band t-shirts, jeans and sweatpants you wore to laze around. you rarely went out and when you did, it would only be for a short period of time to run some errands or to visit the old bat.

“come on closet, give me something, anything!” cursing to yourself in desperation as you rummaged through the pits of your closet.

after what seemed like forever, your hand grazed against a soft material, pulling it out to reveal a dress. it was no fancy dress but it definitely looked like the better option to wear. it was off-the-shoulder, had long-sleeves, and was long enough to cover your thighs but a bit small around the edges with how snug it felt against your body. it must have been lying around in your closet for who knows how long considering how you have no clue why or when you even bought it.

it felt weird, and new as your ran your hand against the fabric. hesitation soon clouding your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror.

maybe this was a bad idea. you should have said no. you’ll just look weird, now you’re going to make a fool of yours—

—catching glimpse of the time you gasp. shit. no time to mop in your own feelings. quickly and gently pulling the sheer material of your tights over your legs and tying the laces of your boots once you got to the door, doing a quick once-over in front of your mirror before you were out the house. wine in hand as a last minute resort to bring something. a courtesy on your part really.

they were just across from you, why are you so nervous to meet your neighbors? neighbors do this all the time. this is completely normal.

a chill running down your spine with the sudden cold gust of wind brushing over your face even with your coat on. you stood there in front of their door for a bit, subconsciously shifting your weight on each of your legs as you swayed in apprehension.

you can do it. it’s okay, just knock.

taking a deep breath in, you lifted your hand up, planting three solid knocks against the wood of the door and quickly pulling it back once you hear the heavy footsteps of someone coming.

you stiffened once you hear the click of the door opening, your breath catching in your throat as you crane your neck a bit to see the man in front of you.

skull face.

it takes you a moment to recognize who he is now that he’s not wearing a balaclava. instead, he has a black surgical mask adoring his face, just enough to cover most of his features but revealing enough to see the small details. he’s a dirty blonde that’s for sure, making him look less intimidating than when you saw him for the first time. his dark eyes are roaming over your figure, leaving you standing still in fear of some way offending him if you even dared to move just an inch.

he’s wearing a grey long-sleeve shirt, along with a pair of grey joggers. you hope you hadn’t interrupted his sleep with how disheveled his hair looks. he looks comfortable though, questioning your own choice of attire. you might have overdressed.

before you could open your mouth to introduce yourself, a booming voice can be heard from behind the man.

“don’ be scarin’ off our guest, simon!” a toothy grin on his face as he slides next to the taller man. arm wrapping around simon’s waist before letting out a low whistle that makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. “well look at ye. so bonnie, m’ glad ye could make it lass, come in. gaz is just finishing up makin’ us dinner.”

nodding, your eyes flicker back at simon as you extend your hand for him to take. “it’s nice to meet you, simon. I, uh, live across from you guys.”a throaty grunt coming from him as he engulfs your hand in his, firmly shaking your hand in return.

they let you in once introductions are over, johnny’s hand hovering over the sole of your back as he follows you into the living room, telling you to get comfortable.

“don’ ye worry, simon doesn’t bite.” looking over at the man with an expression only him and simon would understand as he grabs the wine from your hands, disappearing into the kitchen.

it was awkward to the say the least. silence stretching over the two of you as simon sits across from you on an arm chair, book in his hands and eyebrows scrunched up in concentration.

it went on like that for about a few minutes before simon’s gravely voice cut through the stillness of the room.

“you like it so far?” he asks. the question catching you off guard before realizing what he means. “oh, yes! everyone’s been so nice and welcoming. especially auntie lottie.” a small smile forming on your lips as you recounter your many little dates together.

simon’s eyes crinkle at that, setting the book down beside him as he crosses his arms over his chest. sleeve rolling up a bit to reveal some ink. “‘s there a particular reason why you moved here?”

alarm bells ring in your mind at that. for someone who’s quiet, he sure likes to ask personal questions. you’re new to the neighborhood though, you could understand if he’s wary of you.

“I had some ‘issues’ with my roommate. now ex-roommate,” you say. a deep hum coming from the man across from you as he tilts his head to the side. “can’t say i don’t know what that feels like. have to deal with these muppets all the time.”

you can’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head in amusement. “for some reason I doubt they’re any worse than the person I lived with.”

“must have been a hell of a roommate then. you’ve peaked my interest sweetheart.” simon’s shoulders relaxing from their tense position once he heard the sweet sound of your laughter.

he had to admit, he was wrong about you. you were not who he envisioned you to be. his own skepticism plaguing his mind when gaz and soap came through the door with news about the new neighbor. johnny gushing about how much of a sweet thing you were and kyle nodding in agreement as he listened. price leaning against the wall as he watched the whole thing with a raised eyebrow.

“we have tae invite her over ghost. you’ll like her, ah promise.”

he was ready to decline the offer. ready to scold johnny for even suggesting inviting a stranger over, especially one he and price hadn’t met before. yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. seeing how johnny eyes practically screamed please and how kyle’s own head leaned against his chest as he stared at him.

“I don’t see a problem with it.” price said, giving simon a small shrug as he sipped on his tea.

jaw clenching, he sighed.

“fine.”

now looking at you, he understands why the boys took interest in you. you were gorgeous. a nervous thing. you reminded him of a scruffy kitten with how skittish and bad you were at holding eye contact. your fingers picking at the fabric of your tights that will surely leave a rip by the of the night. he had a feeling price will love a pretty doll like you.

he knew you lived alone. johnny and kyle had suspected you did and it didn’t take long for him and price to figure out you had no one to come home to with how much of a chatter box auntie lottie could be.

and for some reason the thought of you being alone left him with an annoying itch in his brain. an itch that had his fists curling until his knuckles turned white as he stared at you. who would leave such a sweet thing like you all alone?

“simon?” your voice cuts through his thoughts. eyes flickering towards you as your warm palm lays against his knee. eyes furrowing in confusion as you stare at him with those pretty eyes. “are you okay?”

“‘m fine. don’t worry, luv.” your lips turning into a small smile as you retreat your hand, fighting the urge to grab you and hold you against him forever.

silence falls between you again. your palms sweating a bit as you feel simon’s eyes on you.

your attention is soon ripped away from your hands as you hear the door opening, revealing the older man from a few days ago.

mutton chops.

he looks better up close. beard nicely trimmed and kind eyes as he stares at you. he has his winter clothes on. beanie on top of his head along with a jacket and cargo pants.

placing the grocery bags he was carrying on the counter next to the door as he makes his way next to simon.

“and who might this be?” he asks, staring down at you as you scramble to stand up and walk towards him. stuttering a small introduction as you extend your hand which he takes and brings closer to his face. staring wide-eyed as he presses a small kiss against the skin before he lets you go.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you. the boys have been talking about you.” he says, letting out a gruff chuckle as he takes the beanie off his head.

“i hope good things, sir.” you return with a tight smile. a small snort could be heard next to him as simon tilts his chin down to hide his laughter. mutton chops sending him a hard glare before returning his attention back to you.

“just call me john, darlin’. we are all friends here, right?” you could only nod, muttering a small apology before kyle and johnny come walking back to the living room, announcing that dinner is ready.

kyle brings you into a hug, pressing a small kiss against the side of your face between your jaw and neck that has you sucking in your breath.

“I’m so glad you could make it. I hope you’re hungry, i made a big feast.” his hands lingering a bit before johnny slides next to him, pushing him a bit to the side.

“kyle an’ simon are our little chefs of the house.” sending a teasing look at their direction as simon just rolls his eyes while kyle pulls johnny in for a quick kiss. your face heating up as you’re smushed between their bodies.

“stop hovering’ over the bird and let’s eat. we all are hungry.” price says, gently pulling you close to him as he leads you to the dinner table. the boys following behind them as you hear johnny and kyle wince at simon smacking them on the back of their head.

dinner goes smoothly. your tummy full with all the delicious food kyle made that had you moaning with every bite. kyle biting his lip to hide the small grin forming with how he preened in satisfaction.

with everyone occupied with their food, you took the moment to analyze all of them. there’s definitely a strong relationship between the four men.

price reaching out to squeeze kyle’s hand in appreciation by the end of dinner as the younger man just sends him a fond look.

johnny and simon were practically glued by the hip. soap naturally brushing his hand against simon’s thigh every time he talked or made a horrible dad joke which you couldn’t help but laugh every single time. they all fitted with one another like a puzzle. a small glow coming from them with all the gazes and smiles they shared.

at times you felt like you were an intruder watching from outside the glass, and maybe it was envy you felt. not towards the men but towards the love and devotion they had for one another. they were all beautiful and you were the ugly duckling of the group.

you had gone quiet without you realizing it, price touching your shoulder as you jolted in surprise. turning your head towards him as you’re met with a soft gaze. “we lost you there for a minute, love.”

“i.. I’m sorry. I kinda got lost in thought.” you say, offering a little laugh as you gulp down the last of your wine. god, how much have you drunk to get this emotional over something so meaningless?

if john notices the way your voice wavers or the way you eyes gloss over, he doesn’t comment on it. instead, asking kyle and johnny to take you to the couch to watch a movie as him and simon clean the dishes. ignoring your protests in helping and shutting you up with a stern look.

johnny pinches your cheek as you sulk like a child for not being able to help. “you’re our guest silly. would be rude tae make ye work.” setting you down on the comfy couch, blanket in hand as he sits to your right and kyle to your left. squished between their warm bodies.

“get comfortable, princess.” kyle murmurs beside you, the hairs on your neck standing with how close he is. wondering if they could hear goat fast your heart is beating.

the boys insist in you to pick the movie, settling on watching the “elf” with christmas just around the corner. you try your very best to stay focused on the tv screen, ignoring the way johnny ever so often lightly brushes his fingers against your shoulder with how he rests his arm around the back of the couch. or the way kyle brushes his leg against your thigh, sending you an innocent simple every time you look his way.

at some point in the middle of the movie, your eyes grow heavy. your body fighting the urge to shut down after a long week of work. you soon lose the battle, the mixture of both kyle and johnny’s warmness, their scents, soft touches and way of making you feel relaxed win over your consciousness.

you think you feel a soft blanket drape itself on you along with your shoes being removed. the faintest touch against your cheek before you drift to sleep.

“goodnight mo luaidh.”

a/n: I’m not very proud of this one but i tried my best. 😓 please let me know if there’s anything i should fix/improve on. love ya! <33

[jo-speaks]

CANN U PLZ WRITE QUINN AND HIS GF HAVING HOT TOB SEXXHWINDIS PLZLZLZ

HOT TUB ANTICS

overview: a relaxing night in the hot tub with quinn turns into something more. (+ the origin of this picture)

warnings: smut! MDNI (18+pls guys), dirty talk, thigh riding, unprotected sex, etc.

note: ooo the thoughts i had running though my head when i saw this picture and then this request came though i swear i almost blew up. also this is not proofread because it's 12:40 am and i have class tomorrow :)

wc: 2.5k

You were struggling to tie the laces of your bikini top when you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/N? The tub’s ready.” Quinn called out, his hand lingering on the knob as he waited for your response.

He heard your grumble before it was followed with, “Can you help me?”. Turning the knob, he walked in, trying his best to keep his composure as the loose top barely covered your breasts, the bottoms doing little to nothing to cover your ass. 

“Quinn?” You smirked, noticing his stare. 

“Huh? Sorry,” He replied sheepishly, making his way over to you. 

Four years of dating and he still got distracted when he saw you like this. He brought his hands up, his fingers finding the laces of your top, bringing them around your back. He did quick work of tying it together, a smirk appearing on his face as you brought your hands up to adjust the padding that covered your boobs. You had pulled one side forward a little too much, allowing Quinn to catch a quick peek at your nipple. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the top of your head. “You can’t do that, baby.”

“Do what?” You asked innocently. 

“You’re such a tease.” He laughed, “C’mon. The water’s gonna get cold."

You smiled and grabbed the towels you had waiting on the edge of the bed, taking Quinn’s hand as he guided you downstairs. Thankfully, it was pretty late at night so the house was quiet, everyone upstairs sleeping or passed out due to the drinking they had done throughout the course of the night. 

When Quinn slid open the glass door, the Michigan air flowing into the warm air of the house. A small breeze caught your abdomen, causing your arms to bring the towels up in front of you in an attempt to reserve your heat. Quinn laughed, taking the towels from you and putting a hand around your lower back to guide you outside. 

He set the towels down, taking both of your phones and putting them on top of the stack before dipping a foot in, the other following suit. When the water came up to the middle of his torso, he stuck his hand out, asking for yours so he could guide you in. The warm water felt amazing, so it didn’t take long for you to join him fully. 

Quinn took a set along the benches instilled in the tub, watching as you stood in the center, allowing the lower half of your body to acclimatize before taking a seat beside him. You let your head rest on his shoulder, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your thigh. 

“I missed this.” You sighed, your muscles relaxing as he turned the jets on the lowest level, the pressured water shooting against your backs. 

Quinn chuckled, hand shifting around your waist to mess with the bows of your bikini, “The hot tub? It does feel nice.”

“No. Well, yes, but I meant you.” You smiled, “Missed being this close to you.”

Quinn gave your thigh a squeeze, “Me too. M’sorry this summer is kinda all over the place.”

“It’s okay. I see you all year, anyway.” 

That was true. He had asked you to move in after two years of being together. Summers always gave you mixed feelings, though. Some days you’d get to be around him one hundred percent of the time, while others you’d only see him for some or not at all. You’d always appreciated his drive, and his determination to not only be better for himself but for his team. But summers were meant to be relaxing, an outlet for everything hockey. Loving him just meant adjusting to his passion, and that was no problem for you. 

Quinn reached over your shoulder, grabbing his phone, and handing it to you before letting his hand drop to your side, toying with the strings of your bikini yet again. “Play something.” You unlocked it, opening up Spotify and putting on the playlist you two had created together on shuffle. It was a slow, sensual song that had played the first time the two of you had sex and suddenly the close contact between the two of you felt too far. Your thighs rubbed together, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But it was Quinn. He noticed everything about you. 

He threw his head back with a soft laugh, lulling it back to the side to look at you with his green eyes, the blue lights of the tub making them seem brighter, “You okay over there, baby?”

You looked over at him, a desire lingering in your gaze. You brought a hand up to his cheek, cupping it softly as you shifted closer, pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiled against your mouth, both hands coming to the side of your waist, effortlessly bringing you onto his lap, your legs on either side of him. Your hands came up to his hair as the kiss quickly went from slow and passionate to rushed and desperate. You wanted to take your time, but something about the way he held you and the music in the background had you yearning for him.

Quinn pulled back, and before you could complain, he was trailing kisses down the column of your neck, marking your skin wherever he could. His lips landed on a particularly sensitive spot, a soft moan passing your lips as your hands gripped at his hair. You could feel his cock twitch against your core through his shorts, your hips grinding down to meet the movement. 

“Stop moving.” He groaned, “You’re gonna make me cum in my pants.”

Per his request, you stopped moving, not wanting this to come to an end before it even got started. Instead, you shifted your position so that instead of being straddled across both of his legs, you were only around one. You pressed down, rocking your hips forward. The friction of his muscle against your clit was enough to have your head feeling dizzy, your hands dropping from his hair to his shoulders. He knew you could get off like this, and he wasn’t about to stop you. 

“So desperate to get off already, hm? And I’ve barely even touched you.”

His deep voice had you speeding up already, moans slipping past your parted lips as Quinn’s hands gripped your waist impossibly tighter, most likely leaving bruises you would feel in the morning.

“Quinn…” You moaned, your forehead coming down to rest on his shoulder. 

He could feel the warmth of your breath meeting his skin that sat above the water, his hands now guiding your movements as he felt you slowing down. “Tell me how bad you need me right now, sweet girl. Wanna hear it from you.”

You were never one to feel embarrassed in the bedroom, but you felt exposed out in the hot tub. There weren’t any cameras and everyone was asleep inside, but something about not having the privacy of four walls had you second-guessing yourself. 

“C’mon. Don’t go all quiet on me now,” He encouraged, his thigh tensing in an attempt to give you more courage. “Tell me how desperately you need me to fuck you.”

His words alone made you moan louder than intended. You turned your head, your cheek now to his shoulder as you peered up at him through your lashes. He copied you, twisting his neck to meet your soft gaze. The desperation in your eyes almost caused him to cum in his pants right then and there. 

“Please, Q.” You whined, your eyes fluttering as you tried to keep them open. “Need to feel you inside of me.”

He smirked, “Yeah? Want me to fuck you?”

You nodded, your orgasm creeping up on you as you tried to answer him. He could feel it – the way your thighs tensed even more, your nails digging into his skin and your noises becoming louder as he moved your hips faster. 

“M’gonna cum, Quinn!” You cried, your movements stuttering against his thigh.

Quinn placed a kiss on your cheek, “Go for it, Y/N. Let go for me.”

The second the words left his mouth you felt the knot in your stomach snap. A stream of moans leaving your throat as Quinn guided your hips, his sweet praises making it feel all that much better. 

You brought your right hand up from his shoulder, your fingers curling around the curve of the side of his neck. Pressing yourself up, you connected your lips once again, this time the pressure feeling softer as your legs shook against his thigh.

“Did so good.” He cooed, kissing you once more before shifting you off his leg, his hands coming down to slide his shorts down to rest at his ankles. Once he adjusted himself to the bare feeling, he brought his hands over to you, undoing the bows he had been toying with all night as he slipped your bottoms off effortlessly.

He didn’t have to do a thing, your body naturally gravitating back towards him as you swung a leg around his waist yet again. 

Your eyes caught his, silently asking him for permission. He didn’t answer, simply resorting to guiding your hips down against him, his cock slipping into you inch by inch. Quinn let out a groan, the feeling of your warmth around him had his head reeling. 

The music had simply become background noise by now, the only thing that mattered to the two of you being how perfectly you felt against each other. 

“It’s like you were made for me, beautiful.” He praised once he was fully inside of you. 

You nodded, blinking your eyes open to look at him. “I’m yours, Quinn. Only yours.”

The words were too sweet for the moment, but he blushed them nonetheless. He slowly thrusted up, the movement feeling experimental, his next one being just as slow. The pace was enough for you both to feel good, but not enough for you to get off. Which is just what he wanted. Quinn wanted to take his time, appreciating your body and the way you felt while this close to him. 

He didn’t want it to end. 

You let him bask in his thoughts, your body shifting forward as you left little kisses across his chest. Not enough to leave marks, but enough to have his stomach tingle at the feeling of your soft lips. You knew how much he had started to like having his shirt off when in the sun, so you decided to leave him with a little soft mark on his chest that could easily be confused for a red patch he often got. 

Your lips moved upward, kissing softly at his neck before shifting up to nip at his ear. Something about the feeling had his thrusts falter slightly, his need to fill you up slowly becoming overwhelming. 

Quinn’s movements sped up, his length dragging just a tad bit faster into you, the water starting to splash the slightest bit as soft groans escaped his chest. “So fucking perfect.”

His words made you smile, your eyebrows furrowing at the increase in speed. “I love you so much, handsome.”

His hands rounded from your waist to your ass, each hand grabbing a handful as he pulled you up, maneuvering your body to meet his hips. 

The adjustment caused him to go deeper, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside you that had you gasping his name. Your sounds became uncontrollable and the fact that they were flowing straight into Quinn’s ear didn’t help his composure at all. 

He knew he wouldn’t be holding out much longer, stomach tensing as you clenched tighter around him, but he was never one to cum before you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. 

Quinn brought one hand back around, fitting it in between your bodies as his thumb began to circle your clit. You wailed, biting your lip to try and keep yourself under control as your orgasm built up again, the task becoming increasingly harder the faster he moved. 

“Need you to let go for me, baby.” He sighed, his cock drilling into you, “Please just cum for me again. Know you can do it.” 

His encouragement had your brain flooding out anything that wasn’t Quinn. All you could focus on were his panting breaths, and the way his eyes fluttered shut as his lips parted further. The sight alone had all your composure crumbling, a feeling of euphoria overtaking your body. 

Quinn felt your pussy clenching around him. The all-familiar feeling had his muscles tensing, his cock halting inside of you as he let himself go, his cum spurting thick ropes of white into you. 

The feeling of him leaking out of you was disguised by the jets of the hot tub, the pressure from them cleaning your exposed skin. You panted against his mouth, the feeling of his mustache tickling the tip of your nose.

Quinn blinked his eyes open as you backed up, your eyes drinking in the man in front of you. Your fingers traced his cheekbones before eventually finding their home in his hair.

He smiled at the sight of you, “You look so fucking perfect on top of me.”

You giggled, warmth rising to your face, “Don’t get used to it, that was exhausting.” 

“You barely did anything!” He laughed, eyes widening in fake disbelief. 

The laughter died down, both of you fully embracing the moment. You kissed him yet again, slower this time, basking in the way his – now swollen– lips felt against yours.

You reached to your side, this time grabbing your phone as you opened your camera app. Holding the phone out beside the two of you, you kissed the tip of his nose as your thumb hit the button to snap a picture. You didn’t look at it before kissing his lips, snapping yet another picture. 

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked, looking over at your phone as you seized the moment and kissed his cheek, getting another picture of him smiling at the feeling. 

“Documenting,” You smiled, “You look so good.”

He laughed as he brought the phone in front of his face, putting the .5 setting on and laughing as you caught the moment. “I wanna get one with just you in here, hang on.”

You pressed yourself up, allowing his cock to slip out of you, a sigh leaving both your lips. He pulled his shorts up as you tied your bikini bottoms back around your waist. You stood up, leaving the warmth of the water and circling around the hot tub to capture Quinn in all his beauty. 

After a few shots, Quinn picked up his phone trying to look busy.  “Okay, look at you modeling for me.” You teased, a smile creeping up on his face as you snapped yet another picture, before rejoining him in the water.

[loveesiren]

𝙼𝚢 𝙼𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚎

Thanos x american!reader | Forever Masterlist

a/n: i told ya'll i wasn't done writing for them! there's still more to come for this series as well as a new series! i linked to the series masterlist but if you haven't read it before thats okay! enjoy :)

synopsis: (a continuation of Forever) Thanos still struggles with his anxiety a year after the game. Being sick only enhances his panic.

warnings: anxiety, panic attack, symptoms of ptsd, fluff

wc: 3.4k+

It was a dreary, rain-soaked day in Seoul, the kind of day where the sky seemed to blend into the ground, gray and heavy. Thanos lay curled under a thick, knitted blanket on the couch, the soft crackle of the fireplace the only warmth against the chill in the air. A hot mug of tea sat untouched on the coffee table in front of him, the aromatic steam curling like ghostly fingers toward the ceiling.

“Drink your tea, baby,” you said gently, your tone carrying both affection and a hint of sternness. You knew how stubborn he could be, even when he was clearly suffering. His only response was a low grumble as he tugged the blanket higher, hiding himself from the world. His cheeks were pale, flushed only by the fever he’d been battling for days now. Strep throat—the doctor’s words still echoed in your head from the day before.

“T, please,” you coaxed, your voice softer now as you adjusted the blanket over his shoulders. “It’ll help your throat. Just a few sips.”

He didn’t respond, his focus fixed on the TV. South Park blared in the background, the absurd humor earning him a weak giggle, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Even sick, Thanos was a child at heart.

“I’m heading out to grab your medicine and stuff for dinner,” you announced, slipping on your jacket as you gathered your things.

His head snapped toward you, eyes wide with sudden concern. “Wait—you’re leaving?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and the vulnerability in his tone made you pause.

“Yes, hon. I have to get your antibiotics.”

“I can come!” he blurted, sitting up too quickly. The effort seemed to zap what little strength he had, and he slumped back against the cushions.

“No,” you said firmly, crossing the room to kneel beside him. “You’re staying right here and resting. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Thanos hesitated, his brow furrowed as anxiety flickered in his eyes. You reached out, cupping his face in your hands. The warmth of your palms seemed to anchor him, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Hey,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been here for two years now, remember? I know my way around, and it’s just a quick trip. I promise.”

His lips trembled as he opened his eyes, and for a moment, the mask he often wore—stoic, unshaken—crumbled. “Be back soon… please.” His hand reached for yours, pressing three soft kisses to your palm like a silent prayer.

You smiled, though your heart ached at the worry etched into his features. “I promise, honey.” You leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “Try to rest, okay?”

He nodded reluctantly, sinking back into the couch as you draped the blanket over him once more. His eyes followed you to the door, and you gave him one last reassuring glance before stepping into the elevator.

The moment the door clicked shut, the silence pressed down on him like a weight. Thanos tried to focus on the TV, on the cartoon chaos playing out on the screen, but his mind refused to stay still. His hands began to tremble, and a cold sweat formed on his forehead despite the heat of the fireplace.

The thoughts came, sharp and relentless. What if she slips in the rain and breaks her arm? What if she gets in an accident? What if someone hurts her—what if she doesn’t come back?

His chest tightened, his breaths growing shallow as panic clawed at him. He clenched his fists, trying to ground himself, but the memories of the games came flooding back—each moment of helplessness, every second of fear that had taught him the world was cruel and unpredictable.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his body shaking as tears slipped down his cheeks. “She’ll be fine,” he whispered to himself, as though saying it aloud would make it true. “She promised…”

But promises didn’t always hold in a world that had taken so much from him.

And so, Thanos sat there, the blanket wrapped tight around him, a storm raging inside to match the one outside. All he could do now was wait—and hope.

-

You darted up and down the aisles of the grocery store, your shoes squeaking against the polished floor as you tried to gather everything on your list. The rain outside had seeped into your sleeves, chilling your arms, but you barely noticed. All you could think about was getting home—to your boyfriend. The small orange bottle of antibiotics in your purse felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric, a constant reminder of how fragile he seemed today.

The weight of his pale face and hoarse voice lingered in your mind, pressing against your heart. You moved quickly, grabbing vegetables and broth for the soup you’d promised to make him. Thanos didn’t often ask for much, but when he wasn’t feeling well, he needed you in ways that pulled on something deep within you—an instinct to protect him, to wrap him in warmth and make the world feel less harsh.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you swiped it open to see a message from your grandmother.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you don’t want me to come by? I can bring food, or even stay and help out for a few days.”

You smiled faintly at her offer, warmth blooming in your chest. As much as you appreciated her kindness, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something you wanted—needed—to handle yourself.

“Thanks, Halmeoni,” you typed back quickly, “but I’ve got it. I want to take care of him. I’ll call if I need anything, promise.”

She responded immediately with another offer, and then another, peppering her messages with instructions for dinner and well wishes for Thanos. As you tossed a bundle of rosemary into your cart, you texted her back between stops: “Okay, okay! I’ll remember the garlic. Love you!”

Finally, after what felt like ages, you made your way to the checkout counter. The hum of the conveyor belt and the beep of the scanner filled the air as you bagged your groceries, mentally double-checking your list. The moment you stepped outside, the rain greeted you again, its cold droplets pricking at your cheeks. You slipped your AirPods in and hit play on your comfort playlist, the familiar melodies keeping you steady as you clutched the bags tightly and made your way to your car.

-

Meanwhile, Thanos was falling apart.

He sat on the floor, the blanket that had once been wrapped around him now pooled at his feet. His head rested heavily in his hands, his fingers tangled in his dark, sweat-dampened hair. His phone—he couldn’t find his phone. He had looked everywhere he could think of, but in his feverish haze, he couldn’t focus, couldn’t remember.

“Where is it?” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking as his hands fumbled around him. “I need to—” The words caught in his throat, replaced by a rising panic that clawed at his chest. He needed to call you. He needed to hear your voice, to know you were safe.

But the thoughts were already spiraling, pulling him under like an undertow he couldn’t fight. What if she slipped and hit her head? What if someone followed her? What if the rain made her car spin out? His breath hitched. Each imagined scenario was more horrifying than the last, and none of them felt far-fetched—not to him, not in the world he had lived in.

His body betrayed him, trembling as the adrenaline surged through his veins. His heart raced uncontrollably, pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. He pressed his hands against his chest as if trying to physically hold himself together, but the pressure only seemed to make it worse.

The room spun around him, the edges of his vision blurring as he squeezed his eyes shut. She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine, he chanted silently, but the words felt hollow, swallowed by the louder voice in his head screaming that something was wrong. His breaths became shallow and desperate, each one harder to pull in than the last.

The tears came next, hot and relentless, streaming down his face as he rocked back and forth on the floor. He hated this. He hated the way his mind betrayed him, the way his body refused to listen to logic. “Why can’t I just be normal?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Why am I so fucking weak?”

Memories of the games flashed behind his closed eyelids. The helplessness, the fear, the constant sense of waiting for the worst to happen. It had rewired something in him, left him with a heart that couldn’t rest, a mind that couldn’t stop bracing for the next blow.

Curling into himself, he pressed his forehead against his knees, his breath hitching with every sob. He wanted to be better—for you, for himself—but the spiral felt endless. His fever blurred reality, making everything feel bigger, heavier.

Minutes felt like hours as he sat there, shaking and broken on the floor. The only thing keeping him tethered was the faint hope that you’d walk through the door soon. He needed you. Desperately.

And so, he waited, the storm inside him raging as fiercely as the one outside.

-

Pulling your car into the reserved parking spot in the underground garage always brought a small smile to your face. It was a privilege you hadn’t grown used to, no matter how many times you parked there. You would live in a tent if it meant being with Thanos, but you had to admit, the perks of his luxurious life didn’t hurt. The sleek penthouse, the reserved parking, the polished floors of the building’s lobby—it all felt like a dream, even after all this time.

Grabbing the grocery bags from the trunk, you made your way toward the lobby, your arms full but your steps light. The doorman greeted you with a bow, and you returned it politely before continuing to the private elevator that led to the penthouse. You swiped your card, the quiet beep granting you access to the place you now called home.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped into the warm, quiet space of the penthouse. The floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the city skyline, streaked with rain that blurred the twinkling lights outside. The soft hum of the heating system was the only sound. Relief washed over you.

“God, the store was a madhouse!” you called out, setting the heavy bags down near the kitchen and peeling off your rain-soaked coat. You brushed your damp hair out of your face, ready to share a laugh with Thanos about the chaos of the day. “You’d think—”

Your words froze in your throat as your eyes fell on him.

Thanos was curled up on the floor near the couch, his body trembling violently. His blanket lay discarded nearby, and his arms wrapped tightly around himself as if trying to hold the pieces together.

“T!” you screamed, dropping everything as you rushed to his side. You fell to your knees beside him, your hands instinctively reaching out to pull him into your arms. “Baby, what’s wrong? What’s happening?!”

He didn’t respond immediately, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His skin was burning hot, his face pale except for the fevered flush across his cheeks. His glassy, unfocused eyes darted around the room before they landed on you, and you saw a flicker of recognition break through the panic.

“Y/n?” he croaked, his hoarse voice cracking as he clutched at the fabric of your shirt like it was his lifeline.

“I’m here, baby,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you held him closer. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.” You ran your fingers through his messy purple hair, the motion soothing for both of you.

He clung to you desperately, his body still trembling as he buried his face in your shirt. His breaths were shallow and ragged, but he managed to inhale your familiar scent, grounding himself in the safety of your presence.

Tears stung your eyes as you tried to stay strong for him. You knew how much he struggled with his past, how the memories lingered like shadows that refused to leave. He never talked about it, not really, but moments like this revealed the scars he tried so hard to hide.

“You’re here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as if he needed to remind himself that it was real.

“I’m here,” you repeated, pressing a soft kiss to his damp forehead.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled weakly, his voice laced with shame.

The apology shattered you. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “You have nothing to be sorry for, honey. Nothing.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, but you meant every word.

For the next twenty minutes, you cradled him on the floor, murmuring soft reassurances and stroking his hair as his breathing slowly evened out. You whispered about the soup you were going to make, about how you’d stay with him until he felt better. Gradually, the tremors subsided, and his body relaxed against yours.

Finally, you coaxed him back to the couch, wrapping him in his favorite blanket and tucking it securely around him. His tired eyes followed you as you stood. “I’m going to make my Halmeoni’s famous soup, okay?” you said with a small smile. “It always made me feel better when I was sick.”

He nodded reluctantly, his eyes still glassy. “You’re here.”

“Yes, baby,” you said, brushing your thumb gently over his flushed cheek. “I’m right here. I’ll just be in the kitchen, okay?”

Before leaving, you grabbed the bottle of antibiotics and shook one pill into your palm, handing it to him along with a glass of water. “Take this,” you said softly. He hesitated for a moment but then obeyed, swallowing the pill and offering you a faint, tired smile.

“Good boy,” you teased.

-

As night fell, the sound of rain against the glass walls of the penthouse became a comforting rhythm. You stood over the stove, stirring the soup carefully as you tried to follow your grandmother’s recipe. Every few minutes, you texted her for guidance, and her replies were quick and filled with concern.

How’s Su-Bong? Does he still have a fever? Should I come over?

He’s fine! you reassured her. I’m making him dinner right now.

You smiled faintly as you read her reply but focused on your task, determined to get it just right. The aroma of garlic, ginger, and simmering broth filled the air, bringing a sense of warmth back into the apartment.

Soft footsteps behind you caught your attention. You turned to see Thanos shuffling into the kitchen, his blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders like a cape. His hair was still messy, and his cheeks flushed, but there was a softness in his tired eyes as he approached.

“Hi, baby,” you said, glancing back at the pot as you stirred. “How are you feeling?”

Instead of answering, he came up behind you, resting his hands lightly on your hips and letting his head droop lazily onto your shoulder. “Miss you,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shirt.

You couldn’t help but smile at his clinginess. “Food’s almost ready, hon. Go sit down, okay?”

He whined softly, reluctant to let go, but eventually shuffled back to the couch as you gently shooed him away. The corners of your mouth lifted as you watched him retreat, blanket trailing behind him like a child dragging a beloved toy.

Even as you finished the soup, ladling it carefully into bowls, you couldn’t help but feel grateful—for the warmth, for the love you shared, and for the quiet moments like this where you could remind him that he was never truly alone.

With a careful grip on both bowls, you shuffled across the polished hardwood floors, your sock-clad feet making soft, whispering sounds as you moved. The aroma of the soup—ginger, garlic, and the herbs your grandmother insisted were essential—wafted through the air, mingling with the warmth of the fireplace. You placed your own bowl on the coffee table, turning to Thanos with a soft smile as you offered him his.

“Eat up, baby,” you said gently, your voice carrying the kind of warmth only reserved for him. “It’ll help you feel better.”

His tired eyes softened, the corners of his mouth curving into a small but genuine smile. Despite the fever still painting his cheeks pink, there was a flicker of gratitude in his expression.

“Thank you, angel,” he said, his voice still hoarse but laced with affection. He took the bowl from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his damp forehead. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve me, T,” you murmured. “Just be here.”

He gazed at you with an almost boyish awe as you sat down beside him, curling your legs beneath you and leaning back against the cushions. The flickering light of the TV danced across both of your faces as the silly, absurd humor of the cartoon filled the room. It wasn’t your usual choice, but the way Thanos chuckled weakly between spoonfuls made it worth every ridiculous joke.

Thanos was quick to finish his first bowl, the warmth of the soup visibly helping to ease the tension in his shoulders and the rasp in his voice. You noticed the way his movements seemed less lethargic, his hands steadier as he held the bowl. Without a word, you rose and brought him seconds, knowing the nourishment would help him fight off the lingering illness.

“More?” you asked, holding out the freshly filled bowl with a raised brow and a teasing smile.

He nodded sheepishly, his lips twitching upward. “You really are an angel, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it,” you teased lightly, leaning over to kiss his temple before handing him the bowl.

Dinner passed quietly, the clinking of spoons against ceramic mingling with the occasional chuckle from the TV. When he finally set the empty bowl down, his movements slow and careful, you gathered both bowls and carried them to the sink. You stared at the dishes for a moment before deciding they were a problem for tomorrow. Tonight wasn’t about chores—it was about him.

Returning to the couch, you grabbed the blanket and nestled yourself beside Thanos. He shifted to accommodate you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. The weight of his arm was comforting, grounding.

The blanket was warm and soft, cocooning you both as you sank deeper into the cushions. Thanos’ fingers found their way to your hair, lazily twisting and untangling strands in a soothing rhythm. His touch was absent minded, but it carried so much tenderness that it made your chest ache.

The cartoons faded into background noise as your eyelids grew heavier. You turned over, your body curling into his chest, your ear pressed against his heartbeat—a steady, reassuring sound that lulled you closer to sleep. Thanos tightened his arms around you, his lips finding the top of your head.

He pressed a long, meaningful kiss there, his lips lingering as if the act alone could convey all the love he didn’t have the words for.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he whispered into your hair, his breath warm against your skin.

Your eyes fluttered open just enough to glance up at him. “I’ll always take care of you, T,” you mumbled, your voice soft and drowsy. You tightened your arms and legs around him, as if holding him closer would keep the world at bay.

Thanos rested his cheek against your head, his fingers continuing their gentle path through your hair. The sound of your steady breathing soon turned to soft snores, and he couldn’t help but smile.

The tension in his chest eased completely. The panic and fever were no match for the warmth of your presence, the way you fit so perfectly in his arms.

As he held you, his own eyes growing heavy, he thought, This is the only medicine I need.

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[sweetcherriexs]

oh yeah?; b.e.

smut...

the backstage area was dimly lit, the faint hum of the staff’s chatter muffled by the ones backstage with you. billie stood just out of view, her silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of the lights. she wore a tight black skirt that hugged her curves and knee-high black socks with a pair of pretty shoes that gleamed under the lights. every movement seemed deliberate, every step a performance in itself. She adjusted her mic, her fingers brushing against her lips as she whispered something to herself, her confidence radiating even in the shadows.

you leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with a growing heat pooling low in your stomach. your eyes were tracing the curve of her hips, the way her skirt clung to her like a second skin. but tonight, there was something more. something electric in the air, a tension that made your breath catch in your throat. sure, you've been dating a while, and it has been amazing, but... this feeling was different. hot, and red, and it felt like you'd bleed from the inside out if you didn't get your hands on her soon.

the final notes of her last song rang out, and billie turned, her smirk catching the light as she walked backstage, her shoes clicking against the floor. she spotted you immediately, her eyes narrowing slightly, that same smirk tugging at her lips. she knows, you realized. she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Hey, pretty girl” she said, her voice low, but carrying that teasing edge you’d come to know so well. “enjoy the show?”

you swallowed hard, your tongue suddenly heavy in your mouth. “you were incredible,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

billie stepped closer, her body mere inches from yours. she tilted her head, her hair falling over one shoulder as she regarded you with that same predatory gaze. “mmm, i know. thanks, baby.” she grinned, an almost innocent act as she tilted her head.

your heart raced, your hands twitching at your sides. you wanted to touch her, to feel her skin against yours, but you knew better than to make the first move. not with billie. she was always in control, always dictating the pace.

“please,” you breathed, your voice trembling. your heart beat faster as you looked into her blue eyes, so seductive and full of lust that it made your knees wobble “can we go to the dressing room?”

billie licked her lips, sucking her teeth as she clasped her hands together behind her back. "oh, why should we?" she asked, a coy tone to her voice as she looked you up and down. "got something on your mind, my love?"

you gulped, the saliva hot and heavy as it trickled down your throat and the water in the pit of your stomach grew. "you-... you could say" you nodded, licking your dry lips.

billie hummed, looking behind her as the crew packed up and her brother conversed with their drummer. everyone so unsuspecting.

billie’s smirk widened, and she nodded, turning on her heel and leading the way without another word. you followed, your eyes fixed on the sway of her hips, the way these socks hugged her calves, the way she carried herself with an effortless confidence that made your knees weak.

the dressing room was small but private, the door clicking shut behind you. billie turned to face you, her arms crossed as she leaned back against the vanity. “okay, baby. tell me”

you stepped closer, your hands trembling as you reached for her. “I- i... i want you” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It-.. I want to touch you–... please, bils, I-...I can’t take it anymore.”

billie’s eyes darkened, her smirk softening into something more genuine, more predatory. “Oh, yeah?” she purred, stelling closer to you and grabbing your hips. “and what do you plan to do about it?”

your own hands moved to her waist, your fingers itching to feel her skin. “let me,” you begged, your voice thick with desire. “let me touch you.”

billie tilted her head, considering your request for a moment before nodding. “go ahead,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “but we're on limited time here, pretty. for once in your life, dont take your time.”

her words didn't phase you, only thing that reach your ears was the "go ahead" and you were doing so in a second. your fingers fumbled with the zipper of her skirt, your heart pounding as you pulled it down and let it fall to the floor. beneath, she wore nothing but a pair of lace panties, and your breath hitched at the sight. so perfect, you thought, your hands trembling as they moved to her hips.

but before you could do anything more, billie’s hands were on your shoulders, pushing you back. you stumbled, your legs hitting the edge of the couch, and you fell back onto the cushions. billie straddled your thigh, her shoes still on, her weight pressing down in a way that made your breath catch.

“you really thought you were in control, huh?” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. “pretty girl. you should know by now—I’m always in charge.”

your hands gripped the couch cushions as she started to move, her hips grinding against your thigh with a slow, deliberate rhythm. her shoes dug into the couch, the leather squeaking softly as she rode you, her eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“you like this, don’t you?” she purred, her voice low and teasing. “watching me take what I want from you. watching me come undone.” She chuckled lowly, leaning down to press her lips to your neck, breathing heavily as she made her way up to your ear, sucking on the skin below.

you nodded, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “yes,” you managed, your voice trembling. “God, yes.”

billie stopped, pulling back as she quickly got rid of her panties. the sight of her glistening pussy made your own throb with need, hips almost bucking at the sight as you fumbled with your pants, pushing them down before she straddled your thigh once more, one hand on your throat, making your breath catch again.

"be a good girl, hm? just stay like this for now" she purred, hips moving in mild motions as small gasps left her lips. her clit rubbed deliciously against the skin of your thigh and it made her mind reel with pleasure. "maybe... you'll get a reward and I'll fuck your pretty little pussy when we get home" she panted out, her tattooed hand squeezing your throat, making your own eyes roll back.

billie’s movements grew more frantic, her hips rolling against yours with a desperate urgency. her breath hitched, her fingers digging into your skin as she rode you, her eyes fluttering shut as pleasure overtook her.

“that’s it,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “just let me take it. let me have it.” her breathing grew urgent and you knew she was so so close, chanting your name under her breath as her other hand gripped your side, lips coming down to crash against yours. her hips glided against your thigh, painting the flesh with her arousal and the feeling alone almost made you cum on the spot. you own breathing was uneven, eyes opening when she pulled back and threw her head back in complete bliss, whimpers leaving her lips.

she came with a soft cry, her body shuddering as she collapsed against you, her breath hot against your neck. you held her, your hands trembling as they moved to her back, your own desire burning white-hot beneath the surface.

but before you could catch your breath, she was moving again, her hips grinding against your thigh with a renewed intensity. “again,” she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding. “make me come again.” her words sent a shiver down your spine and you breathed out shakily, resisting the urge to clench your thighs together. to finally get some friction.

you nodded, your hands moving to her hips as you guided her movements, your own desire building with every roll of her hips. her breath hitched, her body trembling as she rode you, her eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip. her hand left your throat, two of her fingers prodding against your lips and invading your mouth, pushing down your throat as your eyes locked with hers, hands still guiding her hips as they shuddered and her body shook with desire. "good girl, such a good girl for me, baby" she moaned out, watching as tears filled your eyes. "fuck fuck, yes. make me come again, princess. shit-" she gasped out, squeezing her eyes shut, mouth hanging open. in the simple span of a second she was coming again, crying out as she rode out her high and pulled her fingers out of your mouth. her hips stilled and she caught her breath while you looked up at her with round eyes.

"you did so good" she panted and kissed the corner of your lips. "don't worry, your reward is coming soon..." she mumbled and pulled back with a smile "as well as you" she smirked and your cheeks flushed at her words.

to be continued...? if you guys want

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Marriage Proposal

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Story Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Attempted Murder, Murder, Smut, Eventual Fluff and Romance

Regret is an overwhelming emotion because no matter how hard you wish to go back in time to undo your mistake, there is no possible way for you to do it. You love your daughter to pieces but she wasn’t planned. You didn’t regret having her but you did regret ever getting with her father and running away from your life.

“The Zenins are a very successful family, and they’re always in the eye of the media so don’t embarrass us.” Your step-mother says as she looks into her compact mirror to make sure her makeup is okay. “They’re really doing us a favor by taking you off our hands.”

You ran away at the age of 18 with your boyfriend. You never got married, but you did end up with a baby when you were 20. Now you are 25. You had to go back to your father and your stepmother because you couldn’t afford to take care of yourself and your daughter. Your boyfriend left you, leaving you with so much responsibility you couldn’t afford to take on. Worst part is that your daughter now asks where her father went.

“Act like a proper lady.” She continues speaking, and you zone out in the backseat of the car. She had forced you to put on a corset and now you could barely breathe. It was unnecessary, but she loves seeing you in pain. You feel like the day will never come to an end, even though it has just started. “And don’t speak unless you’re required to. We don’t want you to scare him off.”

She continues to ramble, making you roll your eyes at each word. It’s infuriating, and your nails dig into your palm and you chew on the inside of your cheek as you try to remind yourself that she’s the woman your father chose. The woman that makes him happy. Although you hate him for it because she’s always his priority. Her happiness always comes before yours which is why he’s marrying you off.

But when you’re married, you’ll tell her off. That’s a plus side of the marriage, probably the only benefit. It’s suffocating in the car, and maybe she is taking all the air or maybe it’s the corset that makes you feel this way. Or maybe it’s the way that you’re just being married off as if you have no value to keep in the family. “They know about Misaki but you better not mention her.”

She finally shuts her mouth and you’re so grateful for a moment. Until you realize where you’re at, and a sigh escapes your lips. You wish to hear your stepmother speak again because you’re convinced that’s better than this.

The mansion is an European style, not one you were expecting. But she knows everything so she speaks to inform you at least. “This isn’t the Zenin’s main house. Their main estate is a couple hours away but they prefer for the engagement to happen around here.”

“Oh… When is this engagement supposed to happen?” You ask as you see a couple different cars. Expensive and foreign cars. It was a mix, and the regular old cars stick out like a sore thumb. Your father parks.

“When do you think? Today. Everyone is here, even the photographers.” She informs you. “The guy you’re engaged to is a pretty big deal in the clan so it’s kind of a big deal.”

“Consider yourself lucky because after the engagement he’ll take you back to the main Zenin state and you won’t have to lift a finger.” Your father speaks which doesn’t ease your nerves. “For the rest of your days you and Misaki won’t ever have to worry about anything.”

“Jinichi Zenin, that’s your future husband’s name.” Your stepmother finally reveals. Your father turns off the car and she’s the first person to open the door and get out. Then your father does the same. You’re the last one left and you feel your stomach turn, as if you’re about to puke. 

Your father opens your door and offers his hand to help you out of the car. You take it because without it you feel like you won’t be able to get out of the car. You inhale the fresh air which you thought would help, but you’re proven wrong because this air is different. This air makes everything different.

Your father puts his hand on your shoulder and smiles at you. You can’t smile back. You just can’t because this is all his fault. Because he wants to please his wife, you’re getting married to a man you haven’t had a conversation with before. He walks over to his wife, and they begin to walk to the main entrance together. 

You gulp and wipe your sweaty hands on the expensive dress that was bought for this occasion. You have to close your eyes for a moment before taking a step and walking behind them.

“I thought they’d have a butler opening doors and waiting for us outside.” Your stepmother jokes, at least you hope that she’s joking as she rings the doorbell. You wonder how they’re benefitting from this as you wait.

Soon enough the door opens and you get greeted by a man that’s well dressed-up. A man in his uniform. Your stepmother is the first one to enter the house, she walks confidently into the place, she turns to get a good look at that part of the mansion. Then your father walks in, but he isn’t interested in looking around, he’s interested in catching up to his wife.

Then there’s you. Your gaze falls to the floor and you put on a shy smile as you walk into the house. When you finally look up, you notice that there’s not that many people, at least not as many as you expected. 

“Naobito.” Your father smiles as he acknowledges the man that is walking over. Your stepmother puts on her best smile, and adjusts her posture, shooting you a glare to do the same. You attempt to be the woman she wants you to be. “Friend.” The man replies. He then looks at your stepmother with a slight disgusted look, and then at you. It’s so easy to differentiate who is who. The man smiles at you, at least you don’t lack looks. “My nephew is upstairs, he’ll come down soon and then we can start. Just a heads up, there’s a couple reporters that will ask about how you two met, and I’m leaving it up to you. Just say you two met at a coffee shop and it was love at first sight. Have been dating for a couple of months. Toji will fuck it up somehow.”

“Toji?” Your father questions. They had previously agreed on Jinichi, so was Naobito playing around? “You’re getting the names confused, I told you to stop drinking booze.”

“No, she’s marrying Toji.” Naobito confirms, and you can’t understand why your father is so affected by this. He’s in shock. Your father has known the Zenins for a long time, so what could Toji possibly have done to cause such a reaction?

“The good-for-nothing that ran away? He’s back?” A tone of offense is clear in your father’s voice. No one notices the man that’s at the top of the stairs, listening to every single word. “There’s no way you’re thinking my daughter is getting married to him of all people.”

“It’s either that or no one at all. I’m not marrying Jinichi, someone who has potential, to a single mother like your daughter.” Naobito says, and your heart nearly breaks and you want to break down in tears. But you remember her words, and act like a proper lady. You don’t smile, you hold your posture and steady your breath so you don’t begin crying. “You want someone who will give a house and pay for everything for your daughter, and we want someone who will fix Toji’s absolutely horrible reputation in the media. He’s ruining the Zenin’s pristine reputation and we’re hoping this engagement can fix this. It’s a win-win situation.”

“I don’t-'' Your father begins but your stepmother discreetly pinches him and he stops. Noaobito’s eyes fall on you.

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You’re just not fit enough… Maybe a couple years back, when you didn’t have your creature.” He tries his best to seem as if he has good intentions, but his words show who he really is. “Plus it’s perfect. He has a son too, just a couple months old, so not only will he be a stepfather, but you’ll be a stepmother.”

You don’t say anything because it feels as if you have no words left in you, even if you haven’t spoken. There’s a lump in your throat that holds back your tears, and you’re afraid your words will release it and cause you to cry. The fact that you’re thought of as less-than because of your daughter is just something that you can’t wrap your head around. But you still give him a nod in response.

Soon enough he slightly turns and faces the stairs, making you look at them too. Slowly walks down a tall, muscular man with a hostile look on his face. He has mid-length black hair, a few strands fall over his emerald green eyes. What really catches your attention is the scar that’s located on the right side of his mouth. You feel your cheeks get warm.

You hope that he’s your soon-to-be husband only because of the physical attraction you feel towards him. You don’t believe in love at first sight, and you know that no emotions will develop quickly so you can at least hope your husband is handsome. He reaches the last step and then he’s on the first floor. He walks over to you.

“Toji.” Naobito says. “Why did you take so long?”

“Sorry, Megumi just took forever to fall asleep. He’s such a crybaby.” Toji lies, hoping that if he complains about his son that you’d be scared and rethink the marriage. He thinks that somehow this is up to you. “He didn’t even let me sleep last night.”

You don’t say anything, you just stare at him which pisses him off. Toji already doesn’t like you but those feelings can change at the end of the day. At the end of the day he’ll either grow to like you or hate you, and it was all up to the final decision.

Naobito calls the butler, and the butler comes with a black box. Toji is forced to take the box, and he puts it in his pocket.

“We’ll give you five minutes to speak to each other, after, come outside to propose. The photographer and reporter are ready.” Naobito instructs before guiding your father and stepmother elsewhere.

Toji and you just stare at each other for a minute or so. Toji decides to get straight to the point, knowing that there’s no way you can read his mind. “I want you to reject the proposal.”

“And I’m not going to reject the proposal. It’s not up to me.” You respond and he doesn’t like your response.

“What do you mean it’s not up to you? You have freewill, don’t you? Reject the proposal.” He insists. “Don’t you have freewill? Instead of forcing me to reject the proposal, just don’t ask.” You tell him, making him click his tongue.

“The problem is if I don’t ask, they’ll kick me out because I’m unwilling to cooperate with them.” He reveals, making you sigh.

“I’m stuck too. If I reject the proposal, my daughter and I will be kicked out.” You answer. “We don’t have any other option here so let’s just try to get along.”

“But you have the option to reject me. That’s easy.” Toji continues, labeling your refusal to cooperate as plain selfishness. He doesn’t really care to think about your position and how you’re trying your best for your daughter.

He glares at you, and you notice but don’t pay attention to it. If he’s unhappy, that’s on him. You’re unhappy too, but ultimately you’re trying to do what’s best.

“Let’s go to the garden, the reporter and photographer are waiting.” You say, and begin to walk. The sound of your heels hitting the floor irritates him. 

“Fuck you.” He mutters under his breath. And he hasn’t gotten to know you for ten minutes but he hates you. That’s decided in his heart because you’re not giving him what he wants so he’s forced to follow behind you.

Once you get outside, your eye is immediately drawn to the beautiful flowers that are outside. Your father and stepmother are nearby, talking to Naobito. Their eyes fall on you and Toji who’s behind you.

You begin to walk around the garden, a massive garden that never in your life did you think you would see. The photographer follows behind, trying to be discreet and not spoil the “surprise”. He just acts as if he’s a part of the family.

You notice the red rose bush and you’re drawn to it. You’re tempted to touch the roses, and your finger is so close to the flower but you stop yourself. Toji knows that the reporter is nearby, and he doesn’t want to fuck things up. He has to be romantic .

As much as he doesn’t want this, ultimately he wants you to be the one to fuck things up. Toji puts up an act since his uncle is also watching. He wants his uncle to see that he tried everything and in the end you are the one that doesn’t want anything to do with him. 

Toji wraps his arms around you, from behind which catches you off-guard. He can feel the corset through the dress and it makes you uncomfortable. He puts his chin on your shoulder before pressing a kiss on your cheek.

“You look beautiful today.” Toji comments, his voice loud enough for the reporter to hear. You wonder if they think why such an intimate moment is forced to become public. But then again the Zenins business has always been important in the media and they’re attempting to keep a pristine image which apparently can’t be possible because of Toji.

“Thank you…” You respond, taking your hand back because touching the rose just wasn’t that fascinating anymore. A stranger is holding you and you can’t do anything about it. A stranger is going to propose and you’re forced to say yes because if you don’t say yes, you’ll end up in the street with no means to survive with your daughter.

He turns you around to force you to look at him. There’s a smile on his face but his eyes are empty. No emotion behind it because how could there possibly be any emotion behind them? You met perhaps ten minutes ago. He pecks your lips, causing your face to get warm.

“I love you so fucking much.” He says empty words that can be written down and be deemed as romantic. His uncle listens and he’s not pleased with the cursing, but at least it’s not something that’s too bad.

“I love you too.” You reply with a tiny smile on your face. You watch as he gets the little black box that he has in his pocket, out. You begin to wonder why it has to be this way, why can’t they just say it’s an arranged marriage.

The Zenins want it to look as if Toji has an option. That at the end you are the woman he chose and he ended up fixed. They want to look like the perfect family that the media has always sold.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you because you’re…” Toji has to shut his eyes for a moment. He imagines someone else that’s standing in front of him. When his eyes open his expression grows tender. “You’re the woman I want to see each time I wake up. I want to grow old with you. Ever since you walked into my life, you’ve made it better. You’re such a great mother to our-”

Suddenly he chokes up, tears building up in his eyes when his imagination gives out. But he remains his composure and holds back the tears. His face goes back to being cold and the passionate tone he had was long gone. “What I’m trying to say is, will you marry me?”

He opens the little box, not bothering to get on one knee. He isn’t devoted to you and he certainly doesn’t have any sort of respect. There is no love either. There’s nothing. He’s getting married to a complete stranger and it feels surreal. But the flashes of the camera remind him how real everything is.

“Oh my God- Yes!” You smile and pretend to be excited as you look at the ring. He takes the diamond ring out of the box and slips it on your ring finger. What are you supposed to do next?

Your hands wrap behind his neck and you peck his lips. You notice the flash of the camera and you act surprised at the photographer. You look back at your now fiancé and then at the photographer.

“So this is why you have been acting so mysterious!” You say. You’re quickly approached by another man. He wears a white sweater, black jeans and glasses.

“If it’s not too much of a hassle, may I ask a couple questions?” The man is quick to say. He clears his throat before scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I suppose I should congratulate you first.”

“It’s alright.” You assure him. “Although we would like a couple minutes alone, and then we can answer questions.”

“Alright, we’ll be waiting inside.” The man responds with a smile. The photographer and him walk inside and you’re left behind with Toji. Once they’re in the house, Toji asks the question he had forgotten to ask.

“What’s your name, again? Naobito told me but I don’t remember.” Toji speaks, making you roll your eyes. You tell him your name. “Well, I’m Toji Fushiguro.”

“Fushiguro?” You look at him in confusion. You have understood that he is a Zenin, but then again you never really got to know who of his parents was the Zenin. He just nods and you don’t think about it for too long. “Alright…”

“So we met at a coffee shop and it was love at first sight… How old is your son?” You tell him, and he furrows his eyebrows.

“What does my son’s age have to do with any of this?” He replies with a nasty tone.

“It’s due to the time we have been together. If we’ve been together longer than the time your son has been alive, you’ll be labeled as a cheater.” You explain. “This is all to clean your family’s reputation.”

“They’re not my family.” Toji is quick to say. “But he’s nine months old.”

“What happened with his mother?” You innocently ask and he gives you a nasty look. 

“That’s none of your fucking business.” He’s clearly angry by the question, and you’re tempted to apologize but you don’t. You don’t think you should because this is information you have to know sooner or later since he is your future husband.

“Well then we have been together for eight months.” You inform him and he shakes his head.

“For five.” He responds. “We’ve been together for five months.”

“Alright then, let’s go inside.” You begin to walk inside and he follows behind. You get back into the mansion and sigh before walking to the reporter.

“We’re ready.” You announce and the man nods, as he gets his notepad and pen ready.

The man looks at all the questions he has written down. Something that should be easy to paint Toji and you in a good image. He then realizes that he hasn’t even introduced himself.

“I’m Jin Itadori.” He smiles and you smile back at him. Toji doesn’t care to smile.

“Well Mr. Itadori, it’s nice to meet you. We’re ready for any questions that you have for us.”

[writtenapoiogy]

When you asked Satoru if you take the lead tonight, this was not what he was expecting.

“Ooo okay, baby. You sure you can handle it?” He remembered his words and his mocking tone. And he was regretting it.

Both of his hands were handcuffed to your bedpost. You made sure he kept his blindfold on. You were actually surprised that he was able to keep his strength at bay so well. Every time he tugged at the restraints and let out quiet whine, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together.

“B-baby. Baby please.” Little ole you had the strongest in bed stammering— you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. “Let me come. Baby…” His words trailed off into a deep guttural moan. You had brought your tongue down to his leaking cockhead and licked the tiniest stripe against the slit.

You had edged him three times at this point and you were enjoying it. The way his abs and thighs tensed each time he got closer. The whimpers that left his mouth when you removed your hand from him again. The way his dick was constantly leaking precome. The sheen of sweat that adorned every part of his body. You were in awe of this breathtaking man laid out in front of you.

You shuffled up his body and leaned down. You placed your lips against his ear, softly. “Can you handle it Satoru?” You purred, repeating his words from earlier. You lined his red hot tip with your entrance and smirked down at him when he seemingly choked on thin air.

Satoru frowned at you. “Hhn- Don’ m-mock me.” He could barely get the words out. You could tell his stare on you was intense underneath the blindfold.

An obscene moan left his puffy pink lips when you began to sink down his huge length. You bit your lip so he couldn’t get the satisfaction of hearing you moan.

He yanked at the handcuffs again when anchor yourself on his chest so you slide down his cock achingly slow. “H-hurry.” He whined.

You chuckled at his desperate state and that seemed to have done it for him. He yanked the handcuffs one last time with ease and you saw pieces of wood fly from your now broken headboard. Satoru placed his hands on the flesh of your ass and shoved you all the way down his hot length.

A gasp tore through your throat when the squishy head of his cock met your cervix.

“You were taking too long.” He started to thrust up into you as he brought you down on him at a beautiful pace. He was hitting your gspot with every single thrust. There was no hiding the noises that left your mouth. “Fuck. Getting too fucking cocky. N-now look a you.”

“Fuck!” A shiver ran up your back when you thought about his mere strength. You could already feel your climax threatening to swarm your body. “‘Toru, m’close.”

All he did was grunt in response before he lifted you off of him and you felt his hot come spurt onto the outside of your cunt. You whined at the realization that he just edged you too and he probably wasn’t gonna stop for the rest of the night.

just something to post while i work on something longer :p

[kyeomszone]

break your heart right back ○ lee dokyeom

tags. lovers to exes mingyu. rough sex. model! mingyu. cheating. baseball player! dokyeom. penetrative sex. gentle sex. body worship. oral sex (fem receiving). overstimulation. fem reader.

synopsis. when your boyfriend decides it's a good idea to fuck you over, you decided to do the prettiest thing you could think of and if it ends up landing you a boyfriend? Well, you aren't complaining.

masterlist.

You barely get a chance to open your mouth before Mingyu's lips are on yours, it’s a blur of hurried hands after that, your shirt dropping to the floor, his large hands groping your breasts as he moves, the two of you stumbling and falling on to the bed.

Mingyu towers over you, large form caging you in and eyes zeroed in on the way your chest heaves as you desperately try to fill your lungs with air, get rid of whatever burn there is in your lung before Mingyu’s lips are back onto yours.

It’s a little strange today, him━ his demeanour. It’s too rough, too intense, too silent. When the air wasn’t filled with your soft moans and whines, it would usually hold Mingyu’s words, tone soft and warm and as sweet as his hold on you, whispers of sweet nothings and praises making your mind fuzzy.

And yet, it’s quiet, the room filled with the sound of your harsh pants and his sharp gaze on you as he waits for you to catch your breath. 

When he notices the rise and fall of your lungs isn’t as harsh as before, he leans down, lips slotting against yours, tongue licking your mouth open and tracing it, sucking on yours as his hands wander to take off your pants along with your underwear. His fingers work to spread your folds, spreading the wetness and pressing against your cilt making your body arch as you moan into his mouth.

You feel his mouth curve against yours and your mind pauses, stepping back from the pleasure to realise that it was the first time you had felt your boyfriend be himself.

“Focus on me,” Mingyu orders, noticing your distracted self, punctuating his words by pushing two fingers into your sopping hole, your breath hitching at the sudden stretch. You swallow a moan, lifting your head slightly to kiss him again as he works you with his fingers.

It doesn’t take you long before your thighs are shaking, tightening around his waist as you feel a coil in your lower stomach that grows tighter and tighter by the second and━

Your eyes snap open as you look at Mingyu, a small whine falling from your lips and you feel the coil loosen, your impending orgasm slowly disappearing from reach. 

“In due time baby,” Mingyu mutters against your lips before he pulls away to take off his pants, the item of clothing dropping to the floor along with his underwear. You take a minute to appreciate his form, bulging muscles, sculpted stomach and thighs you can sink your teeth into. God he was gorgeous, you knew he was, with his work as a model and all but fuck, some days you were left wondering how you had him at all.

He notices you staring, a small smirk curling into his lips and━

It had you a bit confused, knowing that your blatant eyeing of his body usually resulted in flushed cheeks and a light stutter, the lisp of his that you adore coming off strong but hey, you won’t complain if your boyfriend feels confident.

Mingyu’s over you in a blink, eyes searching for something in yours before he shakes his head and in one smooth motion bottoms out into you.

You can’t help but moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he starts moving, thrusting into you hard and fast, hands all hurried and rough and kiss all teeth and tounge as if you were nothing but his toy to enjoy.

His pace is brutal, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Tears sting your eyes by the end of it, your nails digging into his back, leaving behind harsh red lines that you knew would scar as his body collapses onto your, his cock painting your insides white.

“You okay?” Mingyu’s voice is soft in your ears, arms holding you as you nod.

“‘m fine,” You mumble, curling into him and letting out a tired yawn, “just spent.”

“Sleep,” Mingyu said, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m here.”

You nod and drift off.

(What you don’t realise that as soon as your body sags against his, Mingyu moves away, leaving your shared apartment.)

“He won’t pick up?” 

You look up from your phone, chewing on your lips as you shake your head at your manager’s question. There was a nagging feeling in your chest, something not sitting right with you about Mingyu. In all the years two of you had been together you had never felt this way━ never about him.

It had started after that night, with you waking up to an empty bed and his side cold as if there was no one there all night. There was no cutely written note on the fridge explaining his absence or a text from him telling you where he was.

“No,” You mutter, running a hand through your hair as you look back at your phone’s screen, a frown drawing on your lips at the unseen text. It wasn’t like him to be so distant, not when your relationship was built on constant communication, not when it was you who usually found themselves bombarded with unanswered texts that were filled with mindless thoughts and random questions Mingyu thought of while at a shoot.

“Well,” Your eyes snapped up at the direction of your producer who had remained quite up until now, “I think I might know why.”

It was petty of you, you knew that.

It had started like this, one and a half bottles of wine, far too many tears shed for a bastard and a text to your manager.

Then it had been you meeting him, his presence something grander than in the huge billboards. Lee Seokmin━ South Korea’s Golden Boy and the baseball world’s sweetheart.

More importantly, the man Mingyu seemed to love more than he loved himself.

He was pretty, big nose, full lips, jaw line straight and sharp enough to cut glass, ears big in a way that was far too endearing and moles littered all over his face━ sharp and strong features that somehow worked together to form a face that deserved to be on billboard. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Lee Sokmin-ssi,” you had said with a smile━ that, for the first time in weeks, felt genuine━ using the little you know about the Korean culture from Mingyu to land in the man’s good graces. You had to if you were going to go through what you wanted to.

“Just Seokmin is fine,” He gives you the same blinding smile, one that feels like it hold the sun, all bright and warm and light in a way that has you flushing, “If you can’t tell from the way I’m shaking, I’m a huge fan.”

The flush in your cheeks darkens and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh, lips stuck in a smile as your manager calls for you to pose before you wish him luck on the game.

And then, you find yourself in his bed, his hands on your skin gentle━ reverent as he slowly peels away the layers of clothing, his lips on your skin leaving behind a trail of kisses, working delicately on each part of you, kissing and licking and biting and leaving behind blooms of reds and you can feel your heart pound in your ears, skin flushed and your chest heaving as your fingers weave into his curls, gripping at the roots and trying to move him to where you need him oh so desperately.

“I’m with my dream girl,” Seokmin breathes against your skin when you whine again, a small laugh falling from his lips. He moves up, his hand cradling you jaw as he presses a kiss to your lips, soft and gentle like the rest of him.  “Let me worship you.” 

You flush, this time for an entirely different reason.

You bite your lips, eyes wide as you nod and let him have his way with you and he does.

He picks you apart layer by layer, his lips soft and reverent as he traces your skin, kisses your breasts then down to your stomach, thighs, inner thigh and by the time he licks against your fold, your whole body is shaking.

You let out a moan so loud you fear your neighbours will hear you when he sucks at your cilt, one finger hooking inside you. And he keeps doing it, filling you up and stretching you out in a way you hadn’t ever been━ and even if you had, the memory of it is long gone.

“Se-Seokmin,” you let out a broken moan as you come down from your second orgasm, thighs squeezing his head as he licks you clean, fingers still going at it and you can feel the coil in your stomach start to grow tighter and tighter, hints of pain mixing with the pleasure, a sign of you being far too overstimulated but fuck does it feel good.

Your body feels like putty, your limbs jelly and you’re unable to control them with the way pleasure has made your mind hazy.

“Still there, sweet girl?” Seokmin whispers, his eyes gentle as you blink away the haze. 

You nod, taking in a shaky breath to steady your mind. “Yes, just too much.”

Seokmin presses a kiss to your lips and starts to move away when you grip his arm, thick and strong and fuck, you wonder what they would feel like wrapped around your holding, holding you tight in a way that made it impossible to move as he fucked you from behind and━

“Don’t,” you clear your throat, blinking as you move past your thought. Another time, you tell yourself as you focus on Seokmin. “Need you to fuck me, please.”

Seokmin pauses for a second, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You nod, your voice sounding stronger than before, “Absolutely.”

Seokmin stares at you for a second before his lips are on yours, this time hungrier━ taking more than they are giving. You feel his hands part your legs as he shifts, positioning his thick cock against your soppy hole.

You feel the air get knocked out of your lungs at the stretch of him, despite your three orgasms and the way he stretched you out with his fingers for hours━ it wasn’t enough. Your vision whites out, mouth falling open in a silent moan as your body twitches in his hold.

“‘M fine,” you choke out when you feel him pause, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” you sound delirious at this point from the pleasure, “Seok, please.” You add when he remains still.

“Tell me when it gets too much,” Seokmin whispers against your lips, pressing a kiss to your lips and then pulling out until it was just his head that remained in you and━

You let out a loud moan as he slams back in, repeating the motion until you’re left nothing but a drooling mess, mouth open and eyes closed as Seokmin fucks you dumb, his hips snapping at yours with a gentle pace but fuck, fuck, fuck does it feel so so good.

It doesn’t take long until your walls are squeezing against his cock, your orgasm washing over you as he presses his thumb against your swelled cilt, tears gathering in your eyes from the force of your orgasm. He keeps moving, chasing his own high.

It takes a few snaps of his hips, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as he empties himself into the condom, his chest heaving as he clings to you for a beat afterwards. You blink away the tears, mind still hazy but just clear enough to feel him pull out and move, taking off the condom and tying the ends of it before throwing it away.

Through the whole thing, your eyes are stuck on his form, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you could get used to this.

This didn’t feel like a rebound, not at all.

note. been a hot minute since i posted so have both my favourite boys as an apology. It feels a little all over the place but I am a little rusty bc I haven't written in months

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: In the cold of a nearby neighborhood, Joel’s condition worsens, and tensions rise as you and Ellie do everything you can to keep him alive. Desperation and doubt linger as you search for answers, only to uncover something you never expected—a letter in Joel's bag.

Inside the still coldness of the basement, somewhere east of Colorado State University, where you’re certain those men won’t track you, you’re huddled over Joel. You and Ellie rip into any fabric nearby—blankets left behind, clothes from your bags—anything you can find. The dim light filtering through a small, dirt-smudged window barely illuminates the room, but it’s enough to see the blood soaking the small mattress you found for him.

“Keep pressure, El,” you say, your voice trembling as you fumble for another strip of fabric. The cloth in Ellie’s hands is already soaked through, dark red seeping into her fingers as she presses down on the wound. Turning back, you grab more, switching out the saturated material for something marginally cleaner.

Joel’s body shudders under your touch, his groans low and guttural. His skin is pale, slick with sweat, and every fevered sound he makes feels like a knife to your chest. Seeing him like this—fighting, slipping—makes you want to scream. But you don’t. You can’t.

“Ellie,” you say suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper. She looks up at you, wide-eyed, her hands still holding firm against Joel’s side. “We need a first aid kit. Something to stitch this up. If we can’t stop the bleeding—” Your voice cracks, but you force yourself to continue. “There’s no use.”

Ellie’s face pales, her breath catching as your words sink in. For a moment, she looks as though she might crumble, her lips trembling as she stares down at Joel. “Okay,” she says finally, her voice small. “Okay. I’ll go look.”

“There was a mall,” you tell her, speaking quickly now. “About a mile away. I saw it when we were riding in. Go there. Take Callus and your gun. Take Joel’s, too.” You grab your bag, yanking it open with shaking hands. “Take whatever you need from here. You’ve got this, kid. Do you hear me?”

Ellie swallows hard, her jaw tightening as she processes your words. “What about you?” she asks, her voice wavering.

“I’ll stay,” you say, your throat tightening as you glance down at Joel. His face is pale, sweat beading on his forehead, and his breathing is shallow. “I’ll guard him. Keep pressure on the wound. Keep the bastard alive.”

“But what if they—what if someone—”

“I’ll handle it,” you cut her off, your voice firmer now. “Joel can’t be moved like this. We’ll just slow you down. You’re faster, Ellie. You can do this.”

She hesitates, her eyes flicking between you and Joel, the fear in her expression so raw it twists something deep in your chest. But then she nods, determination setting her jaw. “I’ll be back,” she says, gripping her gun tightly.

“I’m counting on you,” you whisper, holding her gaze. “Be careful, Ellie. And don’t take any risks you don’t have to.”

She nods again, her lips pressing into a thin line as she grabs the supplies, slinging her bag over her shoulder. With one last look at Joel, she turns and disappears through the doorway, her footsteps fading into the distance.

As the silence settles around you, you glance down at Joel again. His face is slack, his breaths shallow, but his eyelids flutter weakly. “You’re not leaving us, Joel,” you whisper, pressing harder against the wound despite the tremble in your hands. “You’re not leaving me, dammit. Not like this.”

Somehow, the basement feels even colder now, the chill creeping in through the cracks and settling into every corner. You sit beside Joel, your back pressed against the wall, your knees pulled to your chest as you watch him shiver uncontrollably. His teeth chatter, the sound sharp and rhythmic, and every breath he takes comes out in foggy bursts of air, a stark reminder of how cold it’s gotten.

You shift closer, tentatively placing a hand on his arm. His skin burns under your touch, feverish and damp with sweat, and it makes your chest tighten with panic. His body feels wrong—too hot, like he’s burning up from the inside out. Every labored breath he takes sends another rush of fog into the cold air, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

“Joel,” you whisper, leaning closer. “Hey. You gotta stay with me, okay?”

His head turns slightly, his eyes fluttering open just enough for you to catch the faintest glimpse of brown beneath his heavy lids. He doesn’t speak, just groans softly, his teeth still chattering so hard it seems to shake his entire frame.

“Shit,” you mutter, brushing damp hair away from his forehead. His skin is slick, his breath shallow and ragged. You glance around the room for something—anything—to help stabilize him. But you’ve used everything, and there’s nothing left. Panic swirls in your chest, but you push it down, forcing yourself to act.

You tug at the zipper of his jacket, pulling it open as you slide your hands beneath the layers. His body radiates heat, and for a moment, you hesitate. He’s feverish, burning up, but the freezing air around you is a bigger threat now. You need to keep him warm—keep his body from going into shock. His skin may be hot, but you know the cold is getting to him quickly.

Carefully, you maneuver yourself closer, slipping beneath his jacket and pressing against him. The heat from his body is almost overwhelming, and the dampness of his clothes clings to your skin, but you ignore it. Wrapping your arms around him, you adjust until your chest is flush against his side, your head resting just beneath his collarbone.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, your breath brushing against his neck. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Joel stirs faintly, a soft groan slipping past his cracked lips. His arm moves weakly, holding you against him.

“Save your energy.” you murmur, holding him steady. “ Let me do the work for once, alright?”

The words are shaky, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. His body is too hot, the fever taking its toll, and it makes you feel helpless. But you press closer, letting your body warmth stabilize him as best as you can.

“Just stay with me, Joel. Please. Don’t—don’t leave me like this. Not when I...”

You falter, the words catching in your throat as tears threaten to spill. Your head rests gently against his chest, and you close your eyes, letting the quiet between you fill with everything you can’t quite say.

“Ellie needs you.”

Hours later, Ellie’s voice pulls you from the restless fog of sleep.

“Hey,” she whispers, crouched beside you with a medkit clutched tightly in her hands. You blink, grogginess weighing down your limbs as you untangle yourself from Joel’s side, slipping out from under his jacket. The cold rushes in immediately, biting at your skin, but the sight of Ellie’s determined face and the kit in her hands ignites a spark of hope.

You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you reach for the kit. The unmistakable smell of alcohol wafts out when you open it, revealing gauze, a small bottle of antiseptic, and the tools needed for sutures. Relief floods through you, threatening to spill over in the form of tears.

“Ellie,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you glance up at her. “You found it.”

She lets out a long, shaky sigh, her shoulders dropping as she nods. “Yeah. Took a bit, but I got it.”

You press your lips together, a mix of pride and gratitude swelling in your chest. “Good job, kid,” you murmur, setting the supplies beside Joel. He’s still feverish, his breathing shallow but steady, and you brush his damp hair away from his forehead before reaching for the suture needle and thread.

“I’ve done this before,” you say, your voice steady despite the nervous tremor in your hands.

“You have?” Ellie asks, her wide eyes flicking between you and the needle.

“It’s been a long time,” you admit, your mind drifting back to distant memories of your father and Frank. They’d come home with their share of injuries—cuts, gashes, wounds from their stubborn insistence on doing things the hard way. “But yeah. I’ve stitched up worse than this.”

Ellie swallows hard, her face a mix of determination and apprehension. “What do you need me to do?”

You glance at Joel, your fingers brushing his cheek as if to steady yourself. “I’m going to need your help holding him down if he wakes up,” you say softly, looking back at her. Your voice is calm, but the gravity of the moment weighs heavily in the air. “He’s not going to like this. It’s going to hurt.”

Ellie nods, determination settling in her expression. “I’m ready.”

You draw a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. The needle feels foreign in your grasp, but the movements come back to you as muscle memory takes over. You glance at Ellie again, her hands poised to steady Joel, and together, you begin. The room is filled with nothing but the sound of Joel’s uneven breaths and the faint clink of the needle as you work, every second stretching into an eternity.

Everything is quiet except for Joel’s ragged breathing and the faint rustle of your movements as you sit by his side. The air feels heavier now, the kind of stillness that presses into your chest and makes it hard to breathe. Ellie had gone out to scavenge, her promise to return with whatever she could find still echoing in your mind, but the hours since she left feel like an eternity. 

Joel’s skin is pale and slick with sweat, his fever unrelenting, and every shallow, uneven breath feels like it could be his last. You keep checking his chest, watching it rise and fall, each movement anchoring you to the present, holding you back from spiraling into fear. But even that tether feels fragile, like it could snap at any moment. He needs antibiotics, and he needs them soon.

You try to focus, your trembling hands moving to your bag as you search for anything useful. Nothing, it was everything you remembered you’d put in there. Nothing useful.

You move to his bag. Spare ammunition, rags, water—anything to help. Your fingers brush against random odds and ends: loose bullets, a dented canteen, an old, frayed cloth. None of it is enough. None of it feels like it will make any real difference.

And then your fingers touch something else, something that stops you cold. The texture is different—thicker than paper, folded neatly, as if it were placed there with care. Your breath catches as you pull it out, your heart pounding in your ears.

It’s a letter.

The edges are worn, but the folds are crisp, precise. Just as you remember. The weight of it in your hands feels disproportionate, as though it holds something heavier than just ink on a page. Your throat tightens as you turn it over, and the sight of the handwriting makes your stomach drop.

It’s unmistakable. The scrawling, familiar penmanship. Your father’s.

You blink rapidly, your vision blurring as the realization settles in. It’s addressed to Joel. The neatness of the fold, the careful way it was placed in his bag—it all feels deliberate, significant. You knew this letter. You’d given it to Joel yourself, back in the relative safety of your own home, trusting him to understand whatever your father had needed to say. But now… now it felt different, heavier.

He had kept it. Not as something to glance at once and discard, but as something worth carrying. Even through all this. Even now.

For a moment, you just sit there, staring at it, your mind racing. Why had he kept it? What did it mean to him? The questions tumble over each other in your head, tangling with the emotions already threatening to overwhelm you. Your fingers tremble as they grip the letter tightly, and you realize your heart is racing faster than it should be.

But before you can process it fully, Joel stirs beside you.

“Joel,” you whisper, leaning over him. His eyes flutter open, glassy and unfocused, but there’s something there—some faint spark of awareness. “Hey, you’re awake.”

His gaze flickers to you, his lips parting as he tries to speak. His voice is a raspy whisper, barely audible. “Go,”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What?” you choke out, leaning closer, your throat tight and your eyes beginning to well. “Joel–” you whisper and your heart aches, a desperate kind of panic seizing you. You’ve never felt so useless in your life. If only you could do something, get medication, food, anything.

Joel’s hand shoots out, his fingers clutching the collar of your jacket with surprising strength. He pulls you closer, his eyes burning despite the fever dulling his gaze, “You take that girl and you go.” His voice cracks, but he doesn’t show weakness. He shoves you back with more force than you expect. You stumble, landing hard on the cold cement floor, your palms scraping against the rough surface. It stings, but not nearly as much as the ache that’s growing in your chest.

Your fingers twitch, tightening around the letter still clutched in your hand. The emotions bubbling inside you threaten to spill over, a storm of sadness, frustration, and anger knotting in your chest. How could he do this? How could he think you’d leave him behind, like he’s just some burden?

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly to chase away the tears stinging your eyes. But it’s no use. They gather anyway, blurring your vision as you look back at him.

Joel’s head lolls slightly, his breathing shallow and uneven, but that fire—his unrelenting stubbornness—still flickers in his gaze. It makes the ache in your chest even worse, anger and anguish twisting together into something almost unbearable.

You push yourself up slowly, your legs unsteady as you stand. The letter feels heavier now, the weight of it digging into your palm. Without a word, you turn toward the stairs, your movements stiff and mechanical.

Ellie’s voice breaks the silence as you reach the top. “Hey,” she calls, stepping inside, her breath visible in the cold air. “I saw a deer! But, uh... I lost it.”

You force yourself to nod, your expression unreadable. “Good,” you say, your voice quiet and strained. “That’s good.”

Ellie frowns, glancing between you and the stairs leading to the basement. “What’s going on? Is Joel okay?”

You avoid her gaze, brushing past her as you grab the rifle leaning against the wall. “He’s fine. I need some air,” you mutter. “Watch over him for now. If anything happens, you know what to do. If anyone shows up, lure them out on Callus before doubling back, you hear?”

Ellie’s eyes widen, her concern obvious. “Wait—what? Where are you going?”

“I’ll get the deer,” you say, your voice tight. You adjust the bow in your hands, avoiding her questioning gaze. “Just... stay here. Keep him safe.”

Ellie hesitates, her mouth opening like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. Instead, she nods slowly. “Okay,” she whispers. “Be careful.”

“I will,” you reply, already stepping outside.

The cold hits you immediately, the sharp wind biting at your cheeks as you walk into the trees. The letter feels impossibly heavy in your hand, each step making its weight seem more unbearable.

You don’t go far, just enough to put some distance between you and the ache still sitting in that basement. When you find a tree at the end of the yard, you sink down against its trunk, the rough bark pressing into your back.

The letter is crumpled slightly in your grip, your fingers shaking as you stare at it. For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to unfold it. But the emotions swirling inside you—grief, anger, love—demand an outlet.

With a deep, shaky breath, you smooth the paper against your lap and carefully unfold it. The familiar scrawl of your father’s handwriting blurs as tears prick at your eyes. Slowly, you begin to read, the world around you fading as the weight of his words pulls you under.

[quilly72]

I'm. Gonna. Cum.

You grunted as she continued away her mouth performing miracles as she sucked and tickled your dick. This pixie you had brought home from the bar had become quite the sex crazed maniac after she saw what you were packing underneath. You gripped the edge of the bed as you felt your balls clench. Your dick hearing up as you splurged out. She greedily sucked and pulled as she fell off of you slinking to the floor. Her butt and thighs growing wider as she leaned on her haunches. Her eyes staring up at you as she wiped at her mouth.

You gasped and tried to stand up straight. You legs weak and shaking as you leaned against the footboard. Lin went to get up to her knees as she took a deep breath in clutching her body as she grunted. You stared at her as she fell to the floor. Her body writhing and twisting as she grunted in pain "what's happening what do you need." You turned to reach for the phone as you heard a loud pop. You turned as a button hit you in the face

Massive cleavage spilling out as pop pop. Two more buttons flying into the air. Her boobs continued to swell.

Lin gasped as her shirt and bra popped off. Her boobs bounding forward as they spilled across the ground. Lin regathered herself as she got back to her knees. She bounced her boobs in her hands smiling as she sized herself. "did you do that or did I" you said.

Lin smirked as she stared at your already rock hard dick. She leaned forward. Her boobs cascading across your dick as she began thumping and bouncing for you. Her boobs rubbing against you.

Your dick twitched and writhed. You had just come a few minutes ago but you were already close to cumming a second time. You struggled for breath as she continued to give you a titty fuck. You sputtered for breath. Words no where to be found as you clutched the footboard. Your body weight bending it backwards as your knees failed you.

You felt your dick light up again. You grunted as you clenched again your balls shooting off into her deep cleavage as she bent down to lick your cum off of her.

Lin giggled as she cleaned herself. It wasn't long before you heard seams popping. Her short short falling to the ground. Her panties following as she stood next to you easily taller than you. "More now"

She pushed you down on the bed as she descended onto you. "Please I don't have anymore in m..."

She fell on top of you as she out your dick inside of her. She jumped and bounced in rhythm seating side to side. Again you sputtered. She was so powerful too powerful. Her bodyweight crushing you as the bed groaned in discomfort. You felt ad if your pelvis might cave in as she banged on top of you. You moaned and grunted. Your dick barely able to keep up as you splurged out again.

This time Lin came with you she clutched her body as she fell off the bed to the floor. You couldn't even move to check of she was okay. But you could guess based off the primal moaning and shrieking that she was fine.

All you could see in your peripheral was a giant woman strectching up to the ceiling. Her shadow bigger than you could hope to be. "Your not going anywhere" she grunted as she moved back to suck you again.

[acmeangel]

Levi always cut his own hair. Always. Over the bathroom sink, the door open just a sliver, a crease between his brow, his lips set in a straight line.

You knew this about him. You figured it was just another one of his habits and particularities, like how he has to brew his own tea. You tried once, and when he took a sip, his nose twitched and he asked “How did you make this?” — not quite an insult, he couldn’t bring himself to be completely rude to you, but you knew what he meant. You haven’t made tea since.

But the hair cutting. He’d never announce it, never make a comment about it after. If you told him it looked nice, he’d simply make a noise of acknowledgement and move on.

You’d simply find him, in the bathroom, door cracked open, while he leaned over the sink, snipping pieces of hair with practiced precision. The muscles in his neck, shoulders, and back would flex and move with every motion, the tension lingering within them obvious. The irises of his eyes looked cloudier, distant, and that crease between his brow persisted. Always.

You push the bathroom door open, slowly, soundlessly, as if a sudden movement would make him disappear into thin air. Sometimes, you thought it might.

You lean against the doorway, watching him — he catches your gaze in the mirror for just a second, his eyes locking onto yours with a fleeting vulnerable intensity, before he focuses on himself again.

You just want to help. It’s all you ever want to do, really — to take over some of the tedious little things he does by himself every day, just because he’s always done them by himself. Bit by bit, you want to show him that the weight he carries on his shoulders is something that can be shared, that you’d carry it with him, happily.

“You know, there are these things called barbers that are pretty good at this sort of thing,” you tease, gently, a faint smile curling onto your lips. You knew a groan was coming, but you also knew he appreciated your teasing. It made him feel more grounded.

Groan. Tch.

“Why would I pay someone to do a shitty job?” His eyes flicker to yours in the mirror again, a touch softer this time.

“Want help with the back?” you ask, your eyes lingering on the strands of hair that have begun to grow down the curve of his neck. “I’ll do it for free. It’s really quite a steal.”

“No,” he says. Instantly, flatly.

You walk over closer to him, as he snips the hair in front of his face.

“I won’t mess it up. I can handle trimming a few pieces of hair.” You smile at him in the mirror, and your hand finds its way to rest on the nape of his neck, gently.
He flinches, slightly. He never moved away from your touch anymore — not since the early days of your relationship, where every affectionate touch was foreign to him. In fact, now he usually leaned into it, wanted it.

“I can do it myself.” His voice comes out a little lower, a little rougher this time. His eyes don’t find yours in the mirror.

“Okay, Levi.” Your hand retracts from his neck, and you exit the bathroom. You didn’t want to push, you never did. You learned that with Levi, things had to progress a little slower. It had been like that since the first time he kissed you — his lips had been so light against yours, his hands just barely cradled your face. He’d never admit it out loud, but you knew he was afraid — afraid to let himself care about something precious, afraid that you’d leave him one way or another, afraid that he’d never be able to give you what you deserve.


You knew none of it was true. You loved him, and you weren’t going anywhere, and you loved the way he loved you. Quietly, subtly, through actions and small gestures, instead of words and big romantic displays. It was all you’d ever need.

You didn’t need him to sweep you off your feet or tell you that he loved you every day. You were just as happy waking up every morning to a warm cup of jasmine tea on your bedside table, in your favorite mug that he had once spent hours fixing after the time you had dropped it. It was always made perfectly — something he’d learned just for you, despite calling it “that herbal crap.”

Seeing the way your lips curved into a smile after taking a sip was really the only thing he ever needed.

So, you leave the bathroom and you get into bed, and you wait for him to join you.

A short while later, he does. He slides into the bed beside you, his head finds the place on your chest that it always does. His head turns away from you, the back of his neck a faint red from rubbing it with a towel, tiny drops of water glistening in his hair.

You reach out and stroke his hair — while he doesn’t let you cut it, he will always let you run your fingers through it. You’ve found that it soothes him, that it helps him relax at night.

He makes a noise of approval, of affection.

“I’ve never let anyone cut my hair,” he says after a while, a hint of apology in his tone.

“Levi.” Your hand continues to stroke his soft hair. “You don’t need to explain it to me.”

“My mom was the only person who’s ever cut my hair.” His voice is low, a rare softness to it, as he admits this, his face turned away from you. “I don’t want…” His voice trails off.

He doesn’t need to continue. You know what he means. He’d told you bits and pieces about his mom, about his childhood, and you’d been able to put it all together. You could tell, by the way he talked about his mom, that his memory of her was starting to slip through his fingers — and now, it seemed, the way she cut his hair is one of the few memories left.

“I know,” you say, your voice soft. “Don’t worry. But, at least let me get you some better scissors for it.”

A long, gentle silence falls between you two. Your eyes trace the slope of his shoulder, the slow rising and falling of his breathing.

He turns over, his head faces toward you. Your fingers drift from his hair to the curve of his cheek.

“Maybe… next time, you can help.” His voice is a slight, relaxed mumble, and his eyes search yours. “With the back. It’s a pain. Practically break my damn neck doing it.”

Mmm, you hum, nodding softly. “Alright, I will.”

“Just don’t make it uneven. Or I might have to leave you for a shitty barber.”

You laugh, and you smile. This is all he ever needs.

The corners of his lips twitch into a faint smile. His hand reaches up to capture yours as it gently caresses his face, and he presses a soft kiss into your palm. You know what this gesture means.

“I love you too, Levi.”

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

My first time posting a little Levi one shot fic. Maybe I’ll do more! Hope you like. :)

[lovesickf-fics]

First time for everything

tw : Masterbation, talks of past masterbation, walking in on someone masterbating, virgins, hand jobs, talking through it, spit

Ship mention : Prongsfoot (James x Sirius) Marauders

Summary : James comes in from his morning walk and catches his dorm mate touching himself, what is he meant to do other than become curious and want to help him out

James goes jogging as the sun rises, like clockwork, he takes about anywhere between a half hour to fifty minutes, and Sirius knows this.

Sirius knows this because he's such a light sleeper that even though James tries his best he wakes Sirius up, and every morning Sirius takes advantage of the silencing charm they learned back in third year.

For almost all of 6th year he's been doing this, James gets up, gets dressed and leaves, and as the door closes Sirius puts his charm up, the shimmer reflecting of the canopy making his legs tingle like a dogs ears perk at a whistle. Well trained and desperate.

He tugs whatever bottoms he'd tugged on the night before down to his knees, and he touches himself. He explores and plays and treats his body like unexplored territory - because that's what it is.

Today was meant to be no different from every single one of those.

That was until the door reopened, after only ten minutes of it closing behind james the first time, and Sirius panics.

He yelps, thankful for the charm, but the charm doesn't hide the moving and desperation to hide because this feels dirty. He always knows it was dirty, but him knowing and his best friend are too different.

James, and oh sweet james the boy he is assumes Sirius is having nightmares again and so he rushes over and pulls the canopy back to find sirius, half flailed around, hair messy, drool down his face, tears in his eyes, red cheeked and cock dribbling with his trousers down and if that doesn't spark a flame up in James' gut he would've been convinced nothing would

They stare at each other, blinking dumbly, and in that moment, Sirius is vulnerable, and James is enjoying it more than he should, They're both stood frozen and its sirius that caves first, letting out a sound close to a sob and his tears well up and spill over with the emotions.

"j-james! n-no im sorry, listen im so so sorry i won't do it again--"

James hushes him, gently getting into the bed with him, holding him close, uncaring that the boy is practically naked, and his t-shirt is wet with tears and drool.

James holds him tight, keeping his voice soft

"Shh, shh pads, it's okay, you're absolutely so okay, do you do this alot?"

Sirius, who can barely get a word out, just nods into James' arms, his heart melts, and he lets his fingertips brush Sirius' outer thigh were his hand drapes around him.

Sirius tenses at the touch and then relaxes. Something about James always makes him relax, and with the way he's melting against James, he takes it as a green light to keep going.

James takes his hand higher, trailing sweetly along the divots of his hips and thighs, getting closer and closer to where Sirius is dripping again, He keeps his head in the crook of James' neck and gently mouths at the skin there, making James chuckle a little.

Theres words of encouragement mumbled into the morning air as James touches where Sirius needed it most, wrapping his hand around his cock, just firm enough to feel and with the residue spit from Sirius before and the pre from the praise and touches it feels better than anything Sirius has ever felt.

Sirius jerks into James' hand and moans loud, not used to someone elses touch. James smiles wider and adjusts them to be facing each other a little more, Sirius still on top of him and getting louder with every movement around his cock.

James mumbles some more

"It feels good, huh? i wonder how you do it for yourself. You can show me another day, but for now we'll keep doing this"

James lifts his hand away and he ignores how Sirius' whine he spits into his hand, loving how it connects from his lips to his palm and then down all over Sirius' cock, cooing at the sounds he makes in return.

Sirius' hips move, and James lets them. He relishes in his reactions, enjoying how he can move his hands faster to make Sirius gasp and slower makes him whine

It's not long before sirius is cumming, cock twitching in James' hand and his knuckles being painted in white, Sirius bites into James' neck and moans as it happens, his hips losing any semblance of control they had

[echo-riot]

✞⛧Fading Love (Abby x Reader)✞⛧

Warnings: graphic violence, emotional distress, angst, infection (zombie-related), grief, sad ending

An: Another one from the drafts ✌️😎

The air is thick with dust and the heavy scent of decay. You can feel it in your bones, that oppressive weight that only the world after everything has crumbled can bring. Every scavenger’s mission is filled with the possibility of danger, but you and Abby have become efficient at navigating the wasteland, like two hunters in sync. That’s why this feels different. You didn’t expect to feel so… vulnerable.

The two of you have been out all day, the sun now dipping low, casting long shadows through the overgrown streets. You hadn’t thought it would be a problem, at first, when you spotted that small building—just another old store, its windows long shattered, half-buried under vines and debris. But now, standing with Abby by your side, you wish you had listened to the gnawing sense of unease.

You’ve been in worse places, done worse things, survived worse situations. But as you step into the dark interior of the building, your foot catches on something hidden beneath the layers of rotting wood and scrap metal. You curse, but before you can steady yourself, the creature comes out of nowhere. A click of claws against concrete, followed by the guttural hiss of an infected, and then—pain.

The sting hits your leg first, a hot burst of fire shooting up your calf as the infected’s teeth sink into your flesh. You scream in shock, stumbling backward, but Abby is there—always there—pulling you away, her strong arms gripping your shoulders. She swings her crowbar with precision, the infected’s skull cracking open in an instant. But by then, it’s already too late.

“Shit,” Abby mutters, her voice strained with that raw edge you know so well. She’s already kneeling beside you, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “You okay?”

The world feels slow, like you’re watching from somewhere far off. Your breath is coming in shallow gasps, but you know what’s happened even before you look down at your leg. The deep puncture marks are already swelling with a sickening tinge of purple, blood welling around the wound. Your fingers tremble as you touch it, knowing full well that the infection is already starting to spread.

“Abby…” you whisper, your voice barely a breath.

Her eyes are wide, and you can see the panic clawing its way up from the pit of her stomach, but she’s fighting it. She’s always so strong, so composed in the face of danger, and yet right now, you can see how utterly helpless she feels.

“Don’t worry,” she says, though it doesn’t sound convincing. Her fingers graze your cheek, and you can feel the tremble in her touch. “I’ll get you back to camp. We’ll figure it out. I’ll fix this.”

But you know. You’ve known from the moment that bite sank into your leg that there’s no coming back from this. The infection spreads too quickly. There’s no cure. No matter how hard Abby tries to save you, the end has already been written.

You force a small, weak smile, but it’s hollow. “It’s okay, Abby.” The words are barely above a whisper, but she hears them, her brow furrowing, a fresh wave of panic clouding her gaze.

“No,” she breathes, her voice tight, almost pleading. “Don’t say that. I can get help. We’ll find a way.”

You want to tell her that there’s no point, but you can’t bring yourself to crush whatever hope she’s clinging to. So instead, you look up at her, your vision starting to blur at the edges. You can see her trying to steady herself, her jaw clenched as she pulls you into her arms. You know what she’s thinking: she’s already planning a dozen ways to save you, even though she knows there’s no saving you from this. The thought of losing you is enough to make her break, to make her desperate.

But there’s a finality to this moment, something that both of you have been trying to deny for months now. That unspoken thing that’s always hovered between you, ever since you first met. The way you felt when her eyes softened just a little too much when you laughed, when you caught her lingering glances. You’d never said it out loud, but you’ve been waiting for it, just like she has. Waiting for the right moment to bridge the gap between you.

You don’t have time for that anymore.

“Abby…” you murmur, your hand weakly reaching for hers, your fingers trembling. She looks down at you, her face drawn tight with worry, but there’s something else too—a quiet sorrow, as if she already knows what you’re going to say.

You reach up, your other hand pulling her closer, your lips brushing against her cheek. You can feel the warmth of her skin against yours, the familiar strength of her body. She’s everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve ever needed, and you’re not sure why you waited so long to let her know.

“I love you,” you breathe, the words tasting like bittersweet honey. They come out so easily, and yet you’ve been holding them in for so long, waiting for a moment that never came.

Abby’s breath catches in her throat. “Don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “Don’t say that. Don’t leave me. Please.”

But you know it’s too late. You can feel the infection crawling up your veins, darkening your skin, numbing you from the inside out. Your heartbeat is slowing, and there’s nothing either of you can do to stop it. The world around you seems to be closing in, but in the distance, you hear her voice, soft and filled with a desperation that makes your chest tighten.

“I’ve wanted this too,” you say softly, your eyes locking with hers, and for the first time in months, you can see the same truth reflected in her gaze. The pain of knowing that it’s too late for anything more, but the desire to feel the closeness before the end.

Abby hesitates, just for a moment, her eyes searching yours, but she knows. She knows what this is. And as she lowers her lips to yours, the kiss is soft at first, tentative and unsure, as if neither of you wants to let go of the moment, even though it’s fleeting.

But the kiss deepens, and everything you’ve been holding inside spills out. The love, the longing, the ache of knowing it’s not enough, that this moment will be your last.

When you pull back, her eyes are shining with unshed tears, her face a mask of anguish, but you can see the understanding between you. The kiss was everything it needed to be: a farewell, a final act of love in a world where so little of it remains.

The world around you fades, the edges of your vision blurring, darkening. Your body grows heavier, the cold creeping up your spine. You know what’s coming, and as much as you want to cling to the fading warmth of Abby’s touch, you feel the sickness crawl deeper inside you. Your heart is slowing, the infection taking its toll on you. You can feel the numbness spreading, and you know, with every heartbeat, that there’s no coming back from this.

You hear Abby’s voice again, shaking with desperation, but it’s too far now. “Please, don’t leave me. I love you…” Her hands are still cupping your face, her fingers trembling as if she can hold on just a little longer, but you know the truth. There’s nothing left to hold onto.

“I love you,” you repeat, barely able to force the words out. It hurts, every breath feels like a weight, but you need her to know. You need her to hear it because you’re not sure she’ll ever hear it again. “Please… just remember that. You’re… everything to me.”

The world continues to darken, and you feel her lean closer, her lips brushing your forehead. She’s crying now, her tears falling on your face, and it’s like her heart is shattering with every drop. But you know it’s inevitable. You know she’s doing what needs to be done, even though it’s killing her inside.

“I’m so sorry,” Abby whispers, her voice breaking between each word. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I can’t— I can’t let you turn. I can’t lose you like this.”

Your eyes flicker open one last time to meet hers, her face a blur of emotion, her features twisted with grief, but you see the love in her gaze. It’s the same love you’ve felt all along, but now there’s nothing you can do to change the outcome. You’ve run out of time.

“Please,” she says again, her voice trembling. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

You don’t have the strength to answer. All you can do is squeeze her hand weakly, trying to tell her it’s okay, that you don’t blame her. But you don’t think she’s listening anymore. She’s shaking her head, her face twisted in anguish as she pulls away from you, her breath ragged, raw with pain.

The sound of her sobs fills the silence, and then you hear the distinct, sharp click of a gun being cocked.

Your heart stops, but you know what’s coming. You know what she has to do. You want to tell her it’s okay, but the words die on your tongue. She’s already made the decision for both of you.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again, almost too soft to hear. Then, there’s the deafening crack of the gunshot, and everything goes still.

It feels like your world ends in a single, violent second. There’s no pain, no more fear, just… nothing.

Abby’s voice, barely a broken breath, drifts through the empty space that’s left. “I’m so sorry. I love you. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you go like that. I’m sorry…”

[grimeshound]

CAN WE CAM UP?

masterlist

word count: 2,228

pairing: sang-woo x gi-hun.

summary: when sang-woo comes clean about his debts to gi-hun, the older man introduces him to the prospect of opening an onlyfans account. unbeknownst to gi-hun, he’d be watching his best friend’s video on the site weeks later.

cn: 18+, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, webcam/onlyfans sangwoo au

a/n: title from cyber sex for doja cat! you can clearly tell i have no idea how the onlyfans layout works,,, i hope that doesnt ruin anything T_T

—-

“Well— how are you, really?” Gi-hun asked, swirling the bottle of soju lazily in his hand, his tone softer than usual.

Sang-woo took another slow sip of his own drink, the bitterness lingering as he huffed. “I mean, alright.”

Gi-hun fixed him with a deadpan look, a rare moment of seriousness. “I think we’ve known each other long enough to know that’s bullshit.”

The words hit Sang-woo harder than they should’ve. It had been years since they’d last seen each other, his childhood friend now feeling like a relic of a simpler time. But the universe worked in funny ways, reuniting each other at a no-name convenience store after all this time. A little coaxing, albeit barely needed—was all it took for Sang-woo to agree to drinks. He could never say no to Gi-hun, even back when they were kids.

Sang-woo sighed, leaning back into his seat. “Well… maybe not alright. There’s the debts—”

Gi-hun’s eyes lit up, cutting him off mid-sentence. “No way? Me too!” He leaned in, gesturing wildly like Sang-woo had just announced they’d won the lottery. “It’s fucking insane, right? You try everything—”

Sang-woo blinked, half-incredulous, half-amused as Gi-hun launched into a rapid-fire list of schemes he’d tried to get out of debt. It was so absurd he couldn’t help but snicker, the laughter sneaking out before he could stop it.

“Yeah…” Sang-woo trailed off, his smile fading as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. He looked away, the silence creeping back between them.

“But you know,” Gi-hun continued, grinning ear to ear, “I’m managing. You just gotta try everything you can.”

Sang-woo sighed heavily, swirling the last bit of soju in his bottle before setting it down. “I have tried everything, hyung. You think I haven’t?”

Gi-hun leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Okay, like what?”

Sang-woo chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. “I tried the obvious, cutting expenses. No more eating out, no more luxuries, not even a cup of coffee from the vending machine at work. Didn’t make a dent.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then, I thought I could invest my way out. Stocks, crypto, you name it. I spent months researching, thinking I could outsmart the market. Turns out, luck isn’t something you can study.”

Gi-hun just nodded wordlessly, letting Sang-woo ramble on.

“And then,” Sang-woo continued, his voice growing quieter, “I thought about selling my car. My condo. Everything I own. But I realized even that wouldn’t be enough to cover it all. It’s like trying to drain an ocean with a goddamn bucket.”

Gi-hun frowned, leaning back in his chair as he sucked his teeth. “Damn. That bad, huh?”

Sang-woo scoffed. “Bad enough that I started thinking about loans. Sketchy ones, the kind where the interest grows faster than you can blink.” He glanced at Gi-hun, his expression dark. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet.”

There were a few beats of pause, the two men quiet for a bit.

“Well, you know…” It was Gi-hun who broke the silence, hoping to ease the heavy tension in the air. “There’s always OnlyFans, I hear that’s lucrative nowadays.” he joked, nudging Sang-woo’s side with a laugh.

Sang-woo froze, his cigarette paused halfway to his mouth. “What?” he said flatly, his brow furrowing.

Gi-hun looked genuinely surprised. “You’re telling me you’ve never heard of it? You’re 46, single, and you don’t know?” He snorted. “Wow. It’s true what they say—genius types like you really don’t have time for stuff like that, huh?”

Sang-woo just stared at him, unimpressed. “Are you going to tell me, or are you just going to keep spouting nonsense?”

Gi-hun snickered, leaning in like he was sharing some grand secret. “It’s this site where people pay you for… uh, requests.”

Sang-woo’s frown deepened. “Requests?” He repeated the word slowly, like it was foreign.

Gi-hun hesitated, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “You know. Webcam stuff. Like… adult webcam stuff.”

It took him a second, but when the implication hit, his face flushed crimson. “What the hell, hyung? Do I look like a fucking prostitute to you?!” He yanked off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would help erase the image from his mind.

Gi-hun, of course, was laughing too hard to take him seriously. “Hey, hey—it’s just a joke!” he said, clapping Sang-woo on the back. “Besides, what’s wrong with it? I hear it’s real liberating these days. And it pays a killing.”

Sang-woo rolled his eyes, slipping his glasses back on. “Yeah, well, I’m not that desperate. Keep dreaming.”

They parted ways shortly after, and Sang-woo returned to his empty apartment, the silence of the place practically swallowing him whole. He barely made it home before the exhaustion hit. The ridiculousness of Gi-hun’s suggestion shouldn’t have stuck, but it did. It nestled itself into his mind like an unwelcome guest. He wasn’t that desperate. He didn’t claw his way through SNU just to end up… doing that.

But, Gi-hun had said it paid generously.

He stared up at the ceiling, the thought refusing to let him go.

Would it really be so bad?

He didn’t want to entertain Gi-hun’s absurd suggestion. He really didn’t. But the idea had already planted itself in his head, stubborn and intrusive.

OnlyFans.

Sang-woo rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Could it really be that simple?

His gaze shifted to his desk. The faint glow of his computer monitor caught his eye. He blinked, hesitant.

“It’s not like I’d show my face,” he muttered under his breath, as if justifying the intrusive thought to himself. “I wouldn’t use my real name. I wouldn’t even talk much.”

Before he realized it, his body was moving. He slid into the chair, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. The cursor blinked in the search bar, expectant.

“OnlyFans pay,” he typed hesitantly.

Click. Scroll.

“How much do you earn from webcam videos on average?”

Click. Scroll.

“How to sign up for an OnlyFans account?”

Click. Scroll.

Finally, his fingers typed the URL directly. OnlyFans.com.

The screen changed, illuminating his face in the dimly lit room. His heart raced as he navigated the sign-up process. A username, an email, a quick verification.

And then the words appeared on the screen:

“Welcome to OnlyFans!”

—

Two weeks passed. Gi-hun hadn’t heard from Sang-woo since their last meeting. It was late, the kind of quiet that only came after the rest of the world had gone to sleep. He laid in bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. His eyes wandered to the clock in the top left corner.

2:35 a.m.

His thumb flicked past videos and thumbnails of the familiar website on autopilot. He sighed, scrolling faster. The content blurred together—until his thumb stopped.

A thumbnail caught his attention. A suited figure sat at a desk, the camera cutting off the person’s face. The video title was simple: “First vid.” The uploader’s username was equally unassuming: woosxng.

“Huh,” Gi-hun muttered, intrigued. The simplicity stood out among the neon-lit, high-production videos that dominated his feed. Something about the dimly lit room and the anonymity of the figure made him pause.

He clicked.

The video loaded, and Gi-hun’s eyes were glued to the screen. The man in the video adjusted his tie, his movements deliberate. His veined hands hovered over the front of his slacks, pressing down against the obvious strain. A muffled groan escaped his lips as he palmed himself, hips shifting slightly.

Gi-hun’s breath hitched. There was something strangely captivating about the scene. He was embarrassed to admit it, but that familiar fantasy crossed his mind. He imagined Sangwoo there.

It wasn’t entirely far-fetched, really. The suit, the deliberate movements, the quiet control—it all reminded him of his childhood friend.

The man in the video worked his belt open, sliding his boxers down just enough to free himself. His cock was heavy, flushed as it was leaking at the tip. Gi-hun swallowed hard, unable to tear his gaze away. He’d always thought people who paid for this kind of content were suckers, but this? This was different.

The man’s strokes were slow, teasing himself as his hips bucked slightly. Low groans filled the air, growing more desperate with each movement. Gi-hun felt heat pooling in his stomach, his own arousal growing impossible to ignore. The sound of the stranger’s groans pulled Gi-hun’s attention back to the screen. He couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to. It was like he was hypnotized. The stranger’s hand moved with deliberate precision, stroking his length with slow, teasing motions.

“Fffuck…” the man groaned, his voice strained. His hand ghosted along the underside of his cock, tracing a prominent vein. The sensation drew a whimper from his lips, high-pitched and unrestrained. First hearing the man’s voice had Gihun’s heart skipping a beat. Gi-hun’s breath quickened, shallow and uneven, as the fantasy took hold. He tried to fight it at first, growing heat pooling in his gut. But it was no use. His imagination betrayed him, painting a vivid image of Sang-woo in that chair, his face flushed, lips parted and eyes hazy with need. All for him.

Gi-hun felt his own arousal becoming unbearable, his boxers painfully tight as he watched. But it wasn’t just the visual—it was the sound. Those whimpers, soft and unrestrained, made Gi-hun’s pulse race. He didn’t even know it was possible for a man to whine like that. The stranger’s low groans melted into high-pitched cries, his desperation becoming more palpable with every passing second.

Without even realizing it, Gi-hun had freed himself from his boxers, his hand instinctively wrapping around his own length. He hissed softly at the contact, the sensation almost too much. His strokes matched the stranger’s pace, his eyes locked on the screen as if the man’s pleasure was somehow his own.

The stranger was driving Gi-hun to the brink, his every movement and sound sending shivers down Gi-hun’s spine. That tone—so drenched in vulnerability and surrender—had him clenching the sheets beneath him, his own arousal almost unbearable.

The camera’s angle, low and intimate, captured every detail in a way that left nothing to the imagination, and yet Gi-hun still felt like he needed more. His eyes zeroed in on the stranger’s throat, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down a moan, his lips parting just enough to let out those desperate mewls. His thighs trembled, muscles straining with effort as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge.

Gi-hun couldn’t look away, couldn’t even think of anything else. The stranger’s hand moved faster now, his cock disappearing into his fist with each stroke, slick with precome. His hips bucked upward, as if chasing something just out of reach, his movements becoming wild and erratic.

And those sounds—God, those sounds. The deep, guttural moans from earlier had given way to something softer, higher, more desperate. The stranger’s voice cracked as he whimpered, his pleas spilling out in a breathless stream.

“Please, oh—fuck. Please, please”

He was moaning like a fucking girl, Gi-hun thought, and it turned him on harder than anything he’d ever seen or even imagined before. It was maddening—the way he begged to no one, his voice dripping with raw, unrestrained desperation. The contrast between his deep, guttural growls and the high-pitched, pleading cries sent Gi-hun’s mind reeling.

The stranger’s head fell back, exposing the column of his neck. His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, as his strokes grew faster and sloppier. Gi-hun felt like a voyeur, watching something private, something sacred. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. His heart pounded in his chest, his own arousal building to an unbearable peak as he matched the stranger’s intensity in his mind.

Gi-hun’s breath hitched, his body tense as he imagined that voice, those cries, coming from someone else entirely—someone he knew all too well. The thought made his stomach twist with guilt, but it only heightened the ache deep within him.

Gi-hun was left staring, his own breathing ragged, his chest rising and falling in time with the stranger’s. He felt like his skin was on fire, the rush of pleasure giving way to a lingering sense of shame. But even as the guilt crept in, he couldn’t deny the impact this stranger—this anonymous, faceless man—had on him.

Or, more accurately, the way his mind had twisted that man into someone else entirely.

The stranger’s strokes grew sloppier, more frantic, his hips jerking wildly against his hand. He whimpered, almost sobbed, the sound raw and unfiltered. Gi-hun felt lightheaded, the room spinning as his own hand worked faster, chasing the edge that teased just out of reach.

“Gonna… gonna—” the stranger cried out, his voice breaking as his body stiffened.

The screen showed him arching, his head hitting the back of his chair with a soft thump as he came, thick ropes spilling over his hand. The intensity of his release was almost palpable, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he slowly relaxed back into the chair, utterly spent.

Gi-hun’s body tensed, his own climax hitting him hard as he finally gave in to the fantasy. His mind painted the image of Sang-woo crying out, his face flushed and beautiful, his glasses slipping down his nose as he lost himself completely.

He was so fucked the next time he’d see Sang-woo.

[charliedaltonswife]

https://www.tumblr.com/birintiharmelegi/762947458247639040

this is giving henry winter.. also i love your page so much. thanks for keeping the fandom fed

Play. Now.

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

thank you for the request, i open every request with so much excitement ngl

Summary: read the request. theres a ss of the link, but go look at the link

Warnings: first time writing smut, so dont fucking come for me, im lowkey bad at it okay. SO, smut beware, minors leave kindly.

master list found here

Ever since you were young, your parents had demanded that you take piano lessons. And frankly. You hated it. You hated the incessant nagging to practice pieces you were not fond of. But as you grew older, moved out and joined a rather strange group of Greek students at your college, you were drawn back to the melody. Not having a piano in your dorm, you would play occasionally, quietly, on the piano tucked away in Henry’s study. 

You would sit at the piano, just as you were presently, the varnished wood cool beneath your fingertips, the keys gleaming faintly in the low light. A quiet melody poured forth, hesitant and soft. 

The music wasn’t perfect, it faltered in places, your fingers stumbling over notes. Practice practice practice, your parents would have said. It wasn’t often that you played like this, not for others. It was something private, intimate. And yet, you’d left the door ajar, hadn’t you? You were so used to it at this point, you weren’t as careful to sneak off when everybody was drunk or sleeping, and close the door. You had left it just enough that the faint strains of music could escape and wind their way down the hall. Just enough that someone could follow them to you.

And he did.

You didn’t hear Henry come in. His steps were quiet, a skill he seemed to have perfected. He knew you could play and had heard you many times, standing just outside the door of his study. It was only when you felt the shift in the room, the small shift of a floor board, that you realized he was there.

“You missed a note,” he said matter of factly, but with an underlying softness, just noticeable enough to send a ripple of self consciousness down your spine.

You glanced over your shoulder, startled. He stood in the doorway, one hand resting lightly on the frame, his gaze fixed on you. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his collar slightly undone, the usual precision of his appearance just slightly unraveled. It was subtle, but enough to notice, enough to make you wonder what had unsettled him.

“I didn’t realize I had an audience,” you said, trying to sound unaffected, though the quickened pace of your heart betrayed you.

Henry smiled softly. “I didn’t realise that my study was free for use,” he said, stepping into the room. 

You panicked slightly, not picking up on his teasing tone, “Oh Henry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intru-”

He waved his hand dismissively, seeming to see the guilty look spread across your features, “It’s not a bad thing. That piano was going to go out of tune if it wasn't played soon.” 

You turned back to the piano, your fingers hovering over the keys. “You don't play but you own one?”

“It was a gift,” he said, coming closer. “I prefer tending to the garden as my hobby.”

“I’ve noticed,” you murmured, pressing down a key and letting the note linger in the air.

Henry didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he came to stand beside you, his presence steady. You could feel the faint heat radiating from him, the subtle shift in the air as he leaned down, just enough that his breath ghosted against your ear.

“Play it again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. But it felt demanding. 

You hesitated, your hands poised over the keys. There was something in his tone, in the quiet intensity of his gaze, that made the simple request feel like a command, like a challenge. Slowly, you began to play, your fingers moving more deliberately this time, the melody smoother, more assured. And yet, you couldn’t focus. Not with him standing so close, his presence like a magnet pulling your attention away from the music.

As you reached the end of the piece, his hand moved, resting lightly on the edge of the piano, his fingers brushing against the polished wood. “Do you know what I’ve always found fascinating about music?” he asked, his voice thoughtful.

“What’s that?” you said, your own voice quieter now, the notes fading into silence.

“It’s all about tension,” he said, his gaze fixed on the piano, though you felt his attention on you. “Every chord, every note, every pause, it’s all about the balance between tension and release. Without tension, there’s no interest. And without release, there’s no satisfaction.”

You swallowed, your pulse quickening. Surely there wasn't a double meaning in his words. God, you felt stupid to even consider it. “And what happens when the balance is off?”

Henry’s lips curved into a faint smile, his gaze finally meeting yours. “It creates dissonance,” he said. “Which can be unpleasant or interesting.”

The air between you seemed to hum, charged with something unspoken but unmistakable. He leaned down slightly, his face inches from yours, his gaze flickering to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes.

“Can I sit?” 

You shuffled across, closer to the base keys, to leave him enough space on the piano seat. 

“Play something else,” he said, his voice softer now, almost a murmur.

“What do you want to hear?” you asked, your voice wavering.

Henry tilted his head slightly, considering. “Something unfamiliar. Something that makes me think.”

You nodded, your fingers moving instinctively to a different piece, one you’d been practicing in secret, the notes more complex, the melody more haunting. As you played, Henry didn’t move, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

When you stumbled over a particularly difficult passage, his hand moved, covering yours gently, stilling your fingers. The sudden contact made your breath hitch, your pulse hammering in your ears. He didn’t pull away, his hand lingering over yours, his touch warm and steady.

You didn’t know what came over you, but you lifted his hand with yours, to your lap, a frenzy of shivers forcing the hairs on your neck to wake. Your short flowy skirt had hiked up when you first sat down to play, and your hand faltered its guidance as you felt his cold hands graze the hem of your skit. Henry drops one hand to your lap, working it up the skirt of your dress to meet your lace undergarments.

“Play,” he instructed. You could barely think and let your hands touch the keys on autopilot. 

With a low curse, he slid his hand into them, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing in steady circles while you threw your head back and moaned at the feeling of his hands on you.

“Do you know what you do to me?”

Your breath caught, your pulse pounding in your ears as his words hung in the air, heavy and electric. His hand moved, trailing lightly up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt, the space between you collapsing.

“Every time you stop playing, I stop moving.” His words were accompanied by a warm breath against your ear. You hadn't even realised you stopped playing. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You managed out, letting your hands rest on the keys and opting to play a new song you knew well. 

You writhed underneath his grasp, his arm was thrown across your thigh to reach you but also keep you in place, as he moved his fingers seemingly to the rhythm of the music. Your clit throbbed against his thumb as he flicked it from side to side over the sensitive spot. 

One of the notes hit a flat, definitely not in the key you were playing in as your legs trembled. 

"Oh- oh, my god." You panted, chest heaving with laboured breaths. 

“You’re rushing,” he said softly, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “Slow down. Let it breathe.”

You let out a slightly strangled laugh at him as he decided to slide another finger into you at that moment. His fingers pumped in and out of you. Ecstasy. 

"For fuck- Christ." You gasped. You felt like your skin was on fire. When you feel Henry’s lips connect with your neck, sucking a bruise onto your sensitive skin, you let out a cry at the feeling of the vibrations running through you. 

The once slow pace he was at first was long forgotten, he increased the pace and then, once you were somehow even wetter, sped up even more. 

“Right t-there,” you babble, hips continuing to swivel as you grind against his hand. 

“Keep playing darling.” His low voice came up from your neck for a moment to speak close to your ear. His murmured little “Just like that,” helps push you over with a shout, your body shaking and trembling in his arms as he works you through your orgasm.

Both of his fingers inside of you, bending slightly to hit that sweet spot inside of you, along with his thumb making tight little circles on your clit. You gasped, and let his name drip like honey from your lips, hitting the final notes of the piece and letting the sound ring out in the air, the foot on the peddle allowing the sound to echo in the room. 

The pressure that had built in your lower abdomen suddenly snaps and sets your skin aflame. 

“So gorgeous darling, so good for me,” Henry says, his thumb slowing down against your clit as you come down from your high. When your eyes flutter open and you take him in, cheeks flushed and glasses slightly fogged from all of the exertion. He barely gives you a moment to catch your breath before his hand guides yours back to the keys, his fingers moving with a precision that is almost hypnotic. You followed his lead, your movements slowing, your breathing steadying as the music began to flow more naturally. 

His gaze was dark and searching, his expression unreadable.

“Are you alright?” he asked quickly.

You nodded sheepishly, your chest clenching. 

Before you could respond verbally, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your lips. And with the same courage from when you guided his hand, you leaned forward to softly capture his lips.

a/n: hahaha kill me, i dont know how to write smut. also dont know if i was actually supposed to write smut but i mean.... okay anyway we wont speak of this again! Bro I wrote this after I cancelled on a date 😭

[cogentsummoner]

The gold dragon blushes so badly he becomes a pink gold dragon. 😳

You were woken from your slumber by a heavy gust of warm air. Were it anyone else, they might have been frightened, or at the very least alarmed, to wake up to the sight of a truly massive dragon looming over them, his blue eyes burning in the shadows of his cavernous lair, and light from the fire pit not far from you glinting off his gleaming white teeth.

As it stood, it was you, and you knew this dragon very well. You recognize the baring of teeth for the bright smile that it is, and the noise that sounded like someone smacking a broom against the floor as the tuft of soft fur at the end of the tail thumping on the ground.

You rubbed your eyes and yawned, sitting up on the sofa. Voice still groggy from sleep, you said, "Welcome home, love."

Toshinori let out a happy huff, his giant head coming down to nuzzle you with his snout, which knocked you flat on your back once more. Try as he might to mind his strength and size in his dragon form, Toshinori was always so... easily excited, especially when it came to you.

"I'm home," he rumbled, smile in his voice. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," you replied, scratching at a particular patch of scales under his chin that you knew would make him melt- and it did. As his big body laid down on the ground near the sofa, he began to purr, the sound filling the cavern. "Sorry I feel asleep- I meant to stay awake until you got home... guess I just dozed off."

Toshinori cleared his throat, then said, "It's okay, I know I was out late. A farmer asked me to help her with tilling her fields- it was easy, with my claws and size. She gave us some fruit and vegetable preserves as thanks!"

Your smile brightened at that. "Toshi, that's wonderful!" You'd sent him into town alone, after countless trips you'd taken together, to see if he could handle it. This first time, he'd gone in his dragon form, because he was most comfortable in that right now. Baby steps, and all that. Hearing that someone had unexpectedly approached him, and he'd managed to get through it, and even, if you were reading him right, have fun with it... "Love, I'm so proud of you."

Toshinori's bright gold scales seemed to glow pink at that- doubly so when you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his snout. He let out an embarrassed whine, moving his head back so he could rest it on the floor and cover his eyes with his paws, suddenly shy.

You laughed at his antics. "Oh no, you're not getting away from me that easily!" you said, climbing over the back of the sofa to kneel beside him, peppering his face with many quick little kisses.

His big body squirmed, but you could hear the tell-tale thump of his tail that meant he was more than pleased with your affection.

"My knight," he whined, his blush only getting worse.

"I think my darling Golden Dragon has turned into a rose gold dragon," you teased, ceasing in your kisses, but still petting his snout. "You're always so cute when you get shy like this."

Toshinori let out a huff, but couldn't hide the wobbly, happy smile on his face.

[writer-with-jazz]

Bad nights (part two)

A/N: hi everyone!! Bad night was the first ever fix I posted and I am very glad everyone liked it so much!! I wasn’t expecting more than 20 likes? But this is crazy and I am overjoyed! This took me a lil while since I started working on this request I got which is a very interesting idea, but thank you sm <333

p.s: I reread this 3 times and used grammars for spelling mistakes if there are still any, do tell me!

Summary: Remus got clingy cuz of the full moon, James lost a match, Sirius has problems with his parents and you aren’t well. How Will this situation turn out?

Read bad nights part one, here

The tension in the room only deepened after Remus pulled back, He was always the calm one, the one who understood the unspoken language of their relations, but today, with every emotion piling up, even he was slipping.

You could feel the heat from his body as he stepped away from you, the silence hanging in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Your stomach churned in response, both from the physical ache and the emotional weight of everything around you.

James finally broke the silence, though his voice was very much with frustration. "I get it, Sirius," he said, barely holding back the anger in his tone. "You’re upset, and I’m upset, but don’t act like you have it all figured out." His hand clenched into a fist by his side. "This—this whole thing—it’s not just about losing a match, alright? It’s about everything. Every bloody thing that's been piling up lately." He paused, glancing at you as though the weight of his next words was too much to carry alone. "It’s about her. About how she’s always there for all of you, and… I can’t even seem to be enough for her."

Your heart squeezed at his words, but before you could say anything, Sirius snapped. "Enough? Enough? What about me, huh?" His voice cracked an that made your chest tighten. "I’ve been fighting off my mother’s poison for years, I’m constantly keeping my own demons at bay, and I’m the one who gets left behind! She’s always there for you, James, and for you, Remus. Always comforting you, holding you up, and I’m just… just here, trying to keep my head above water." His face was twisted in anguish, eyes wild. "And all I get is the scraps—the leftovers."

"That’s not fair!" Remus’s voice was raw, , "You think I want to cling to her like this? You think I’m not aware of everything she does for me? But I need her, Sirius. I’m barely holding it together after last night—" His voice wavered, and you saw the raw hurt in his eyes as he turned to you for comfort once more, even as he fought back his own tears. "I’m not asking for more than what she can give. I’m just asking for her to be there when I can’t be there for myself."

Sirius's glare softened for a split second before he snapped again, his frustration morphing into something darker. "Yeah, well, we all need her, don’t we?" he spat. "But it’s always you, Remus. It’s always you who gets the comfort, who gets the attention. And I’m just supposed to wait in the damn hard moments , pretending I’m fine when I’m falling apart inside." He was pacing now, his voice rising with every step. "I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when she’s the one holding everyone else together."

The words hit harder than anything you could have prepared for, and it was like a pressure released in the room. You knew he didn’t mean it like that. You knew he wasn’t blaming you specifically, but the weight of it settled over you like a suffocating wall. You wanted to shout at him, to tell him that you weren’t some object to be fought over, that you couldn’t be everything to everyone, but the words wouldn’t come.

"You think I’m okay?" James's voice cut through, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and hurt. "I’m the bloody Quidditch captain! I’m supposed to lead everyone, make everything perfect, and now I can’t even—" He stopped, voice cracking, fists clenched at his sides, looking away from both of you as if his words were too much to handle. "I’m so sick of failing."

s. That broken crack in James that you had never seen before. You wanted to walk over, to hold him, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but as soon as you moved, Remus took a step toward you, his eyes pleading, like he was afraid to lose you in all this madness. and Sirius’s hurt eyes, his unspoken plea, were just as raw.

But your body was betraying you. The nausea was getting worse, and the headache was growing more unbearable. You couldn’t hold on any longer.

“Stop,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady as you stood between them, your hand resting on your stomach. "Stop. All of you. I… I can't do this anymore."

The room went silent, and for a moment, everything stopped.

You felt tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, but you held them back. "I’m trying so hard for all of you. I can’t be everything. I can’t be the one you all lean on all the time." Your voice was shaky, but you pushed through it. "I… I’m struggling too. Do you not see that? I’mtrying, I’m hurting, and no one’s even asking if I’m okay. All I do is try to hold everyone else together, and no one sees it until I’m falling apart. I just… I need… I need a break."

You didn’t give them time to respond, didn’t let them apologize or tell you it was fine. You turned on your heel and walked away

But in the quiet, as the seconds passed, you realized something. You weren’t the only one struggling,It was time for them to see that.

And you weren’t sure if that would make them love you less, or more.

alright so I think part three will be out more soon and will be the final part!!!!

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