#but his softness is not without rough edges

[gongyoosgf]

diet pepsi. - a thangyu x reader fic

warnings: minors dni!! smutsmutsmut, reader has female genitalia! dom!thanos and namgyu, sub!reader, alcohol/drug use, thanos and namgyu do coke off readers thigh., lots of tension, nicknames like baby, senorita, sweetheart, slut, etc. groping, dry humping, throat fucking, DEGRADING, praise, fingering, overstimulation, edging, rough/unprotected sex, lowkey hand kink if you squint, mean namgyu, thanos is his own warning

an: my first smut so im sorry if its not up to your expectations! this is my interpretation of the characters so im sorry if it doesn’t line up with what you think. this is a looooonnnnngggggg fic so feel free to just skip to the smut :) tips and constructive criticism are appreciated ♡ i love you all!!

the club is alive. neon lights cut through the smoky air, pulsing in sync with the heavy bass that vibrates through the floor. the scent of sweat, spilled liquor, and cheap cologne clings to the space, thick and intoxicating. people move together on the dance floor, their bodies lost in the music, hands on waists, lips brushing against flushed skin.

but you? you're perched at the bar, untouched by the chaos, sipping on a tall glass of diet pepsi like it's the most expensive cocktail in the room. the ice clinks softly as you swirl it, the carbonation fizzing against your lips with every sip. you can feel the eyes on you, burning the back of your skull.

"you've gotta be kidding me," a voice cuts through the noise, rich with amusement.

the man who speaks leans against the counter beside you, elbow propped up, silver chains glinting under the neon glow. his entire presence is draped in black, fitted slacks, an unbuttoned silk shirt that teases the sharp lines of his collarbone. a silver ring catches the light as he lazily runs a hand through his dark wolfcut, the layered strands shifting effortlessly back into place. his eyes, hooded but keen, flicker from your drink to your face, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"soda? that's your drink of choice tonight?"

just behind him, another figure looms, exuding a different kind of presence. one that commands attention without needing to ask for it. his hair is an unmistakable shade of deep purple, styled just messy enough to look effortless. a thick silver cross hangs from his neck, draped over the colorful top he has on in contrast to the man next to him. his frame is broad, his gaze sharp, with dark eyes scanning you with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

the purple haired man slides into the seat on your other side, his presence heavier, more controlled. he's holding a glass of dark whiskey, fingers wrapped around the crystal like he owns the place. he takes a slow sip, then sets it down with a soft *clink* before eyeing you. "she's different," he muses, voice smooth, almost approving. "everyone here is drowning in shots, and you're sipping soda like you're above it all."

you shrug, tilting your head slightly, letting their words settle before taking another sip. the cold fizz lingers on your tongue. "maybe i just like the taste."

the man dressed in black huffs a quiet laugh, studying you like he's trying to figure out a puzzle. his dark eyes flicker between your face and your drink, intrigued. "nah. you could go to any lousy restaurant and get a soda. you just like being in control."

"maybe," you admit, setting your glass down gently, fingers tracing the rim. you glance between them, eyes sharp, playful. "or maybe i just like watching idiots like you two get wasted while i stay sober enough to remember every bad decision you make."

you shift your gaze fully back to the other man with the colorful hair as he chuckles, shaking his head as he swirls his drink. "you think we’re the ones making bad decisions?"

the other leans in, closing the space between you just enough that you catch the faintest trace of his cologne. his voice dips lower, smoother, almost dangerous. "nah, sweetheart. you’re in the club with us. that means you already made one."

"i’m namgyu," he finally says, his name rolling off his tongue smoothly, like it belongs in this space, like it belongs in your ears. his gaze flickers to yours, watching for a reaction.

beside him, the taller man leans against the bar, arms crossed, the silver cross around his neck resting against the multicolored fabric of his shirt. his deep purple hair falls slightly over his forehead as he looks at you.

"thanos," he says simply, copying the other’s tone.

namgyu rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he glances at thanos. "real smooth," he teases before turning back to you. "and you? got a name, or are we just calling you diet pepsi all night?"

you consider your options. give them your name? keep them guessing? call their bluff and see how long they’ll humor this back-and-forth?

“diet pepsi’s fine.”

the smirk lingers on namgyu’s lips as he watches you take another slow sip, your eyes flickering between him and thanos like you’re weighing your options. the beat of the music feels as if it’s pressing into your skin, but here at the bar, time seems to slow.

thanos leans back slightly, taking another sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down. “so, what’s your deal, really?” he asks, his gaze steady, measuring. “you don’t drink, but you come here anyway. just for fun?”

before you can answer, namgyu leans in slightly, dropping his voice just enough to make it feel like a secret. “don’t tell me you’re waiting for someone.” his dark eyes flicker. “because that would just be tragic.”

thanos hums in agreement, though his gaze stays steady on yours. “if you are,” he says, “they’re late.”

you stare at the two in amusement before letting your eyes land on namgyu. “i’m not waiting on anyone. i’m here alone.”

namgyu chuckles, shaking his head. “you’re a real mystery, you know that?” he shifts, resting his chin on his hand as he studies you. “the kind that makes guys do stupid things just to figure you out.”

namgyu grins, sitting up suddenly, his silver rings catching the neon light. “you’re obviously not shy about standing out. let’s see if you can keep up.”

“with what?” you arch a brow.

“why don’t you dance with us, hm?” thanos whispers into your ear, sending a nervous shiver down your spine.

you hesitate, just for a second. the music shifts to something darker, sultrier, and the bodies on the dance floor move with a different kind of intensity.

“i don’t know,” you muse. “i was kind of enjoying my view from here.”

thanos tuts, reaching for your wrist—not forceful, but insistent. “come on, why don’t you give us a chance?”

with a slow, deliberate movement, you set your glass down and slide off the stool, your fingers slipping into thanos’ for just a moment before you pull away, stepping toward the dance floor. namgyu quickly follows, grinning. he watches, shaking his head.

the air is thick with sweat and bass as you step onto the dance floor, the bodies around you moving in time with the pulsing beat. the lights flash overhead, cutting through the darkness in streaks of electric blue and crimson. namgyu is close behind, his energy crackling with anticipation, while thanos lingers just a step back, observing.

thanos doesn’t hesitate. the moment you're in the thick of it, his hands find your waist, fingers grazing the fabric of your dress like he’s daring you to pull away. “no backing out, senorita,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

you smirk, letting the music guide your movements as you press your body into his just enough to make a point. “who said anything about backing out?”

his grip tightens slightly, and for once, thanos seems momentarily caught off guard, not by your words, but by the way you move, effortlessly matching his rhythm. he recovers fast, though, flashing that signature grin, the one that makes it impossible to tell if he’s planning something charming or reckless. namgyu watches, arms crossed, lips curved in mild amusement.

“you just gonna stand there?” you call over the music, throwing a glance over your shoulder at him.

thanos laughs, spinning you so your back is against his chest. his breath is warm against your ear. “don’t pay him too much mind, he’ll get out here when he feels like it.”

you hum, tilting your head slightly, your body still moving in sync with the music. “and when will that be?”

for a moment, namgyu just watches you, his dark eyes taking you in like he’s trying to find the answer to a question you haven’t even asked. then, instead of responding, he walks up to you and reaches out, fingers brushing against you. it’s subtle, nothing like thanos’ reckless touches, but it sends a wave of energy through your body.

thanos notices, of course. he always does. his grin widens, but there’s something sharp behind it now, something almost territorial. “careful, gyu,” he mutters. “wouldn’t want you getting in over your head.”

namgyu doesn’t flinch. “you assume i don’t already know what i’m doing.”

your heart pounds from the way the air between the three of you seems to thicken. without thinking, you carefully place your hands over namgyu’s shoulders while simultaneously pushing yourself back on thanos.

“holy shit,” thanos mutters, his hard-on evident against your back. namgyu watches with inviting eyes, letting you run your hands all over his shirt before unbuttoning a few at the top.

thanos spins you back around, his eyes dark with something unreadable. namgyu lingers just close enough to make his presence known. namgyu puts his hands on your waist, replacing thanos’ as thanos brings his hands up to your chest. you let yourself get completely lost in the feeling. lost in the feeling of two attractive men who treat you like you’re the only girl in the world while the music only seems to get louder.

one second, namgyu is there, watching, kneading at the skin on your waist, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. the next, he’s gone.

thanos doesn’t seem to notice or care. “you’re holding back,” he murmurs, voice low against your ear. “thought you were supposed to be the one in control.”

you just smirk, letting your hips roll a little slower, a little more deliberate, watching the way his breath catches. “and yet,” you tease, “you’re the one trying so hard to keep up with me.”

thanos opens his mouth, probably to throw back some cocky remark, but before he can, namgyu is back.

you feel his presence before you see him, the shift in energy, the weight of his stare. when you turn, he’s standing just behind you like he was earlier, only this time he has something with him.

in his ringed hand, he holds something dark and rich swirling in a shot glass held carefully between his fingers.

he doesn’t say anything at first, just studies you with that expression of his before lifting the glass toward your lips.

“it’s not too strong,” he finally says, voice smooth, steady. “i promise.”

you raise a brow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “and what exactly is this?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he tilts the glass just slightly, close enough that you catch the faint scent, something smoky, laced with something sweet. not whiskey. not tequila. something else.

“something i think you’ll like” he finally says.

you hesitate, lips just barely brushing the rim of the glass, your pulse steady despite the way the moment stretches. there’s something almost intimate in the way namgyu is watching you, the way his fingers hover just close enough that if you moved even a fraction, they’d brush against your skin.

and maybe it’s reckless, maybe this is exactly the kind of bad decision you swore you wouldn’t make, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to play along.

so, you part your lips and take the shot.

the liquid burns, but not in the way you expect. it’s smoother than you thought it would be, rich and dark, with a lingering heat that settles low in your stomach. there’s a hint of something you can’t quite place, something familiar yet foreign, a contradiction in itself.

they both watch, waiting.

you swallow, letting the warmth settle, then tilt your head, eyes locked on namgyu. “not bad,” you admit.

his lips twitch, just barely, almost like he was expecting that answer.

thanos, on the other hand, scoffs. “you would just take anything we give you, isn’t that right?”

namgyu‘s lips barely quirk into a smile, “what a whore, grinding on a dude she just met while letting another feed her a random drink.”

they talk about you like you’re not there.

you should be upset that namgyu just called you a whore, but with whatever drink he just gave you coursing through your veins, it only makes your hips move quicker against thanos.

namgyu watches you for a beat, as if making sure he has your full attention, then leans in slightly. his voice is low, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“come on,” he says, tilting his head toward the back of the club. “i wanna show you something.”

you glance at thanos, who raises a brow, looking almost amused. but there’s something else there too, like he knows something you don’t. he doesn’t say anything, just runs a hand through his hair, then gestures for you to follow.

namgyu leads the way, cutting through the crowd with the kind of quiet confidence that makes people instinctively step aside. you walk between them, thanos at your back, the heavy beat of the music fading slightly as you move toward a secluded hallway.

a bouncer stands at the entrance of a dimly lit doorway, arms crossed over his chest. he barely acknowledges thanos and namgyu before stepping aside, letting the three of you pass without question.

the room inside is different from the rest of the club, more intimate, more controlled. the neon chaos is replaced with softer lighting, casting long shadows against the sleek furniture. a plush leather couch stretches along the wall, occupied by a few others, people who exude the same energy as thanos and namgyu. confident. dangerous. unbothered.

a tall man with a bunch of tattoos and gold rings stacked on his fingers lounges in the corner, swirling a glass of something dark. a woman in a sleek black dress sits beside him, legs crossed, her gaze flicking toward you with mild interest. you study all of the people in the room with an intense focus.

thanos gestures toward the couch, wordlessly inviting you to sit. you hesitate, just for a second, then lower yourself onto the soft leather. namgyu drops down beside you with a lazy grin, slinging an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulder.

thanos takes a seat across from you, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.

“this is different,” you mutter, glancing between the both of them, waiting for someone to fill the silence that lingers in the air.

namgyu chuckles and tilts your head back, “not really that loud environment you love, is it?”

before you can say anything, thanos lifts a hand in the air, and almost instantly, one of the guys at the far end of the room pulls something from his jacket, setting a small, velvet-lined box on the table between you.

your eyes flicker to it, curiosity sparking.

namgyu leans in, smirking. “still feeling in control, hm?”

your pulse ticks up. not with fear, but with something else. anticipation. excitement.

you meet thanos’s gaze, steady and unwavering, and rest your fingers lightly against the table in front of you.

“i guess that depends,” you murmur, tilting your head. “what exactly am i looking at?”

you run your tongue over your bottom lip, leaning forward slightly, your fingertips tracing the box in front of you.

namgyu grins, reaching for the box with slow, deliberate movements, as if he’s savoring the anticipation. “that,” he says, flipping open the lid with a flick of his wrist, “depends on what kind of night you’re looking for.”

inside, nestled against black velvet, are a few neatly wrapped packets. small, unassuming, but unmistakable. alongside them, a clear bag of colorful pills. whatever it is, it looks odd. and probably illegal.

your expression doesn’t change, but you feel namgyu watching you, waiting for a reaction.

you lift your eyes to thanos. he’s still calm, unreadable, but there’s something expectant in the way he holds himself. he’s testing you. not just your curiosity, but your control.

“you think this is my kind of thing?” you ask.

namgyu laughs, slouching back against the couch, his fingers resting your shoulder. “oh, i don’t know,” he muses. “you’re full of surprises.”

thanos leans forward slightly, resting his hands on his knees. “it’s not about what we think,” he says. “it’s about what you want.”

you exhale softly, tapping your nails against namgyu’s leg. the music from the club outside is distant now, like a heartbeat pulsing just beneath the surface.

“i don’t do cheap thrills,” you say, flicking your eyes between the two men.

namgyu sighs, shaking his head. “you really are something else, aren’t you?”

you smirk, reaching for the box, examining the powder. “took you this long to figure that out?”

thanos leans back, watching you with content eyes as you slowly rip open the bag he gives a nod to namgyu and with a silent understanding, namgyu carefully takes the bag from your hands.

namgyu nudges your knee with his own, looking at the bag you earlier opened. “i wanna try something, if you trust us?”

you consider his question, aware of the weight it carries. trust is a delicate thing, especially with people you've just met. while the evening has been enjoyable, it's natural to feel cautious.

“trust isn't something to be given lightly. it's earned." you whisper, looking at namgyu’s ringed hands.

namgyu’s grin widens, his eyes following your gaze. thanos watches closely, a glint of approval in his eyes.

namgyu shakes his head like he can’t decide whether to be impressed or frustrated. “you love playing hard to get, don’t you?”

you smirk, shifting just slightly so your knee brushes against his. “i just like keeping you guessing.”

“yeah? maybe we like to keep you guessing, sweetheart.” without a second beat, namgyu carefully holds the open bag of powder and tilts it slightly, the substance spilling over your leg.

you gasp, looking over at thanos, who seems to be enjoying this. the way he studies you, the way he lets you navigate the tension in the room, it’s deliberate. he doesn’t take his eyes off your leg, coated with a white powder.

“namgyu,” he mumbles, “it’s not fair that you get to have all the fun.”

namgyu nods over to thanos, who quickly gets up from his chair across from you. you watch as he makes room on the other side of the leather couch, knee brushing against yours.

you try not to let the dip in the couch shake the powder dancing across your thigh, waiting for the next move.

the others in the room have gone back to their own conversations, but you can feel their awareness, the way they’re still listening, still watching.

namgyu hands the bag to thanos, who happily takes the bag of the remaining substance into his tattooed hands.

thanos grins, his fingers playing idly with the plastic. “you’re enjoying this,” he says easily. “the power play. the fact that we’re both sitting here trying to figure you out, and you love every second of it.”

you don’t deny it. you don’t confirm it either.

instead, you lean back against the couch, letting your gaze drift between the two of them. “you two are just fun to play with.”

thanos simply watches you, quiet for a moment before nodding, following namgyu’s earlier movements and pouring the remaining substance onto your thigh. “fair enough.”

your breath hitches in your throat, trying not to show how nervous you really are.

namgyu leans forward, slow and deliberate, until he’s just close enough that you can feel the warmth of him against your leg, presence like a storm waiting to break. his voice is low, meant only for you.

“do you still trust us, sweetheart?”

the air between you is thick with something unspoken, something dangerous. namgyu doesn’t move away, doesn’t blink, he’s giving you a choice. you can pull back, keep the control you claim to love, or you can see just how far this power play goes.

thanos watches with thinly veiled amusement. his fingers drum lazily against your thigh, but there’s a sharpness in his gaze, an anticipation like he’s waiting for something to break.

you hold namgyu’s stare, letting the silence stretch. then, ever so slowly, you tilt your chin down slightly, just enough to match his proximity.

“yes” you murmur, voice steady despite the way your pulse ticks up.

in the blink of an eye, almost like they planned it, both namgyu and thanos go down until their noses gently brush against your thigh, breathing in the thick powder.

namgyu’s movements are slow, getting all he can, while thanos’ movements are messy and quick.

thanos throws his head back against the couch with a loud, “fuck!”

namgyu rests his head against your thigh now, breathing heavily. once he takes a final deep breath, feeling the drug flow through his body, he leans up, face inches away from your chest and stares darts into your eyes.

namgyu lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “shit, this is good.”

you sit there, completely frozen.

did you seriously just let two strangers do coke off your thigh?

you let out a shaky breath, letting your gaze rest on thanos instead of the man so close to you. you watch his adam’s apple bob up and down, before he pulls his head from the back of the couch and gives you a lazy smile, his eyes half-hooded.

“you look tense," he rumbles, voice thick with amusement. "you want some, pretty?

your face contorts into one of disgust, your stomach twisting at the casual arrogance in his tone.

"i'm good," you say flatly, shifting away slightly, but his gaze never wavers.

thanos chuckles, deep and slow, like he finds your reaction amusing. his tatted fingers drum idly against the arm of the couch.

"suit yourself," he muses, stretching his arms out, taking up a good bit of the couch. "but you should learn to relax. i don’t bite… unless you ask nicely."

your jaw clenches. you’re not sure what’s worse, the teasing or the fact that he’s so unbothered about it.

"you really should take it as a compliment," namgyu murmurs, tilting his head to glance up at you once more. his voice is smooth but hoarse, as if he’s simply observing rather than intruding. "he doesn’t offer this to just anyone."

thanos exhales through his nose, something between a sigh and a chuckle. he shifts in his seat, leaning back slightly, legs spread that silver cross dangles against his chest, rising and falling with each slow breath.

“come here, angel.”

it’s not a question. it’s not even a request. it’s a command wrapped in something deceptively soft.

the weight of the words sends something sharp through your spine, something thrilling and unexpected. you hesitate, not because you don’t want to, but because thanos doesn’t seem like the type to say things just to say them. he expects you to listen.

you pull yourself off the couch for a moment, and thanos lifts a hand, resting it lightly against your hip. not pulling, just holding it there, solid and steady.

and when you finally settle onto his lap, his other hand finds your thigh, fingers curling just enough to hold you in place. his body is warm, solid beneath you. and the way he exhales, just the slightest shift in his breath, like this is exactly where he wanted you.

“comfortable?” he asks, low and smooth.

you nod slowly, feeling the warmth of thanos beneath you, the weight of his hands keeping you in place. his fingers flex just slightly against your thigh.

but your eyes? your eyes drift to namgyu.

he’s watching you. watching this.

his hair falls slightly over his face, shadowing his hooded gaze. “you look good like that,” he murmurs, lips curving into something just short of a smirk.

thanos hums, low and satisfied, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “she does, doesn’t she?” his deep voice tickling the shell of your ear.

your pulse kicks up, just a little. maybe it’s the way they’re looking at you. maybe it’s the weight of the moment. or maybe it’s the way you can feel thanos’ slow, steady breath against your neck while namgyu watches you from across the small space between you.

namgyu exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he’s amused. “and here i thought you’d be the one making us work for it,” he smiles, dark eyes glinting. “but look at you.”

thanos’ hand trails idly along your thigh, his fingers toying with the hem of your dress. he doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him as he shifts beneath you, in the way his hold stays firm.

“you sure you can handle both of us, hm?” namgyu says, like he already knows the answer.

your breath catches, just for a second.

thanos shifts beneath you, his fingers pressing slightly into your thigh while his dick is just inches away from where you need it most. his body is solid beneath you, steady, as if grounding you even as the energy between the three of you sharpens.

you look up, meeting namgyu’s gaze head-on. “you sound confident,” you murmur, voice steady despite the way your pulse is racing. “you sure it’s me who should be worried?”

namgyu’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he exhales a quiet laugh. “oh she’s got a fucking mouth on her, huh?”

thanos hums in agreement, his grip on your waist tightening for just a moment before relaxing again. “i noticed.”

you bite your lip as you feel thanos start to slowly rock your against his own, trying to find some friction. you can feel how wet you are, and you’re sure he can, too.

you shift slightly on thanos’s lap, just to see if he’ll react. he throws his head back on the couch and looks up at the ceiling, letting his eyes shut at the feeling.

namgyu notices, of course he does. he pulls your chin up to look him in the eyes as you rock against thanos, pulling your lip from between your teeth and dragging his finger against the plush skin.

“you like putting on a show, don’t you?” his dark eyes flicker with something teasing, “slut.”

your breath catches as you clench around nothing, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say smoothly, tilting your head just enough to feign innocence.

namgyu exhales a short laugh, shaking his head.“oh, you definitely do,” he muses, the corner of his mouth curling. “look at you, desperately moving on thanos’ lap, acting like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

thanos hums in agreement, almost not noticing your hips stutter to a stop. you shift slightly, moving to lift yourself off thanos’s lap, the tension crackling between the three of you thick enough to drown in.

“did i say stop?” namgyu asks, thumb pressing into your chin harshly.

you swallow, lips parting, but namgyu’s thumb presses a little harder against your chin, stopping whatever excuse you were about to give.

“go on,” he murmurs, “tell us you don’t love this attention.”

thanos exhales, low and steady, his presence behind you solid, unshaken. "she does," he groans, pulling his head off the couch. “she just wants to see what happens if she runs.”

namgyu clicks his tongue, shaking his head like he’s disappointed. “bad habit, sweetheart.” his grip on your chin softens just slightly, but his eyes stay sharp. “didn’t your parents teach you that if you start something, you finish it?”

a soft, needy sound escapes you before you can stop it. a quiet whine, barely audible over the faint murmurs of the others, the distant music of the club, but loud enough for them to hear. loud enough for namgyu’s eyes to widen.

“jesus christ,” thanos smiles, pushing his face into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there.

namgyu exhales a slow breath, shaking his head. “fucking pathetic,” he smiles, his voice dripping with amusement. “barely had to do anything, and you’re already desperate.” his thumb traces your jaw again, the cool metal of his rings grounding against your flushed skin.

behind you, thanos hums in quiet agreement, his breath warm against your ear. “guess she just needed a little push.” his tone is smooth, but you feel the satisfaction in the way he holds you in place. “didn’t take much, either.”

“you were made to be ruined.” namgyu mutters.

your lips part, but no sound comes out. you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat, but even that feels like too much effort under their gaze. your eyes dart between them, looking back at thanos with wide eyes.

"people will see," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

namgyu's smirk deepens, something dark flickering in his gaze as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. the weight of his touch makes it impossible to ignore him.

"that's the problem, angel," he murmurs, voice smooth as silk. "you like that, don’t you?"

behind you, thanos chuckles lowly. his grip on you tightens just slightly, like he's making sure you don’t even think about pulling away. "she does," he muses, his breath warm against your ear. "that little shiver? that wasn’t fear." his fingers trail down your side. "that was excitement.”

your breath catches, a new wave of heat rushing through you. just outside the door, the club is packed, neon lights flashing, bodies moving in sync with the music. yet here, in their hold, it’s like the rest of the world fades into a blur.

namgyu leans in just a fraction more, his lips brushing against your cheek. “let them watch,” he whispers, his voice laced with something wicked. “let them see who you really belong to.”

his fingers tighten around your chin, tilting your face up just the way he wants before his lips crash against yours, hot and demanding. there’s nothing gentle about it. he kisses you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive.

his teeth graze your bottom lip before he bites down, just hard enough to make you gasp. It’s all the invitation he needs before his tongue slips past your parted lips, deepening the kiss.

“see?” he murmurs, pulling away from your lips. “you love being handled.”

“please,” you mutter, completely at their mercy.

namgyu laughs, almost as if he’s making fun of you. “please?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “that’s all you’ve got?”

thanos exhales a quiet chuckle behind you, “i think she can do better than that,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “doesn’t sound desperate enough yet.”

namgyu nods his head in agreement, his fingers ghosting down your throat, silver rings cool against your heated skin. “c’mon,” he coaxes. “if you really want more, you know how to ask for it.”

you swallow hard, your lips parting as you whisper, “please… i need—”

namgyu tuts, cutting you off with a slow shake of his head. “not good enough.” his fingers tighten just slightly against your neck tilting your face up toward him again. “say it properly, sweetheart. tell us exactly what you need.”

thanos lets out a low hum of approval, his hands sliding just a fraction lower. “be a good girl,” he murmurs. “use your words.”

you exhale a shaky breath, your fingers curling into namgyu’s shirt as you finally let go of the last shred of hesitation.

“please,” you whisper, voice raw, needy. “i want you.”

namgyu’s smirk deepens, his grip tightening, his lips barely ghosting over yours. “that’s more like it.”

and then, he kisses you again, harder this time, hungrier, like he’s been waiting for this just as much as you have.

behind you, thanos says, “see?” he murmurs against your ear, voice low and teasing. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His fingers slide down, his touch slow, like he’s testing how much you can take.

namgyu’s teeth graze your bottom lip before he pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your mouth. “so eager,” he mutters, amusement laced in his tone.

thanos smiles. “bet you’d let us do anything we wanted, wouldn’t you?” his hands dancing across your inner thigh, inches away from where you need him most. “just as long as we keep giving you what you want.”

your breath catches, your body betraying you before you can even think of a response.

namgyu studies you for a moment, then, without warning, grabs your wrist, his grip firm but unyielding.

“get up,” he orders, voice low and commanding.

thanos doesn’t hesitate either. his hands slide back to your waist, steady and possessive as he helps you off his lap, lingering just long enough to make sure you feel the loss of his touch. the moment you’re standing, namgyu tugs you forward, moving through the small group of people who pay you no mind.

you barely have time to process where they’re leading you before namgyu stops in front of an unmarked door, tucked away in a dark corner of the club. he doesn’t knock. he doesn’t hesitate. he simply pushes it open and drags you inside.

the room is dimly lit, quiet compared to the rest of the club, the muffled bass still thrumming through the walls. an office, by the looks of it, sleek leather couches, a heavy wooden desk, liquor bottles lining the shelves.

you hear the door behind you click and you turn around, seeing thanos holding the doorknob. before you even get a chance to speak, namgyu’s hands are on your waist, spinning you around to face him as he presses you against the desk. his lips curl into a smirk. “you knew this was coming, didn’t you?” his voice is a lazy drawl, almost daring you to deny it.

the room feels like it’s closing in on you. the music from the club muffles in the distance, the sharp, neon lights outside barely cutting through the heavy shadows that fill the office. namgyu stands a few steps away, eyes scanning you with amusement, while thanos is right behind you, a solid presence at your back that you can’t ignore. the closeness between the three of you feels too much, too intense. your breath hitches in your chest, and your body trembles slightly.

“look at you,” namgyu’s voice is smooth, his eyes flickering over you. “you can’t control that fucking shaking.”

you try to steady yourself, but it’s no use. his gaze feels like a weight pressing down on you, and with thanos so close behind, you’re caught in between them.

thanos steps closer. “are you scared?” he asks, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “or are you just excited because we’ve got you all to ourselves now?”

“im not scared of you two,” you swallow hard, trying to control your racing pulse.

a throaty laugh erupts from the both of them, mocking you.

“do you like the attention we’re giving you sweetheart?” namgyu whispers, pushing his thigh between your legs.

you try to find your voice, but it comes out barely a whisper. “i— i don’t know.”

namgyu leans in just slightly, his voice soft but laden with an edge that sends a shiver down your spine. "you look a little trapped, sweetheart," he murmurs, the corner of his lips lifting in that teasing smirk. "is that how you like it?"

you swallow, trying to keep your composure, but your heart is racing, your body betraying you with every pulse of heat that floods your skin. you try to move, but namgyu’s leg between your thighs keeps you in place, his gaze never leaving yours.

you let out a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as his hands settle on your hips. he gives an experimental roll of his thigh, and the friction against your clothed core draws a sharp gasp from your lips. the sensation is maddening, just enough to start the fire that’s been smoldering inside you, but not nearly enough to satisfy.

you slowly move your hips, starting a delicious rhythm. the friction makes you moan, feels so good you don’t even realize you’re making a sound. you rock yourself back and forth, back and forth. the movement jostling your tits.

namgyu’s eyes flicker down, his eyebrows raising. a low groan emanates from his throat. the sound taking you to another level.

thanos reaches up, pulling the front of your dress down. his eyes flare in response, breaking his tense posture to reach up with both hands on your bra.

“holy fuck,” thanos whispers, feeling the lace of your bra make indents on his fingers with how hard he’s squeezing.

“stop teasing..” you mutter through a whine, hips jerking.

“me? teasing you?” thanos questions, quirking an eyebrow. “after you were in a room full of people grinding on me?

namgyu puts one hand behind your back and unclips your bra, other hand not leaving your hip as you look for the desperate release you crave.

your bra falls to the floor in front of you, and your eyes follow slowly.

namgyu’s smirk never wavers as his fingers move until they’re cradling your face. his palms are warm, his grip firm. with a slight tilt of his head, he tightens his hold, his fingertips digging in just enough to part your lips slightly. his thumbs press against your jawline, keeping you still, keeping you exactly where he wants you. his dark eyes flicker over your face, drinking in every reaction, your widened eyes, the way your breath catches, the way your body tenses under his touch.

both of their eyes look down at your chest, and you’re quick to cover yourself. thanos clips his tongue and grabs your hands, pushing them down quickly. “don’t hide yourself, you’re fucking beautiful.”

thanos pinches a nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. the combined stimulation drives you to move your hips faster, gripping your fingers into the sturdy angles of his shoulders.

you crinkle your hands into namgyu’s shirt, and your hands on him has his cock aching, no doubt leaking precum all over the front of his underwear. he can’t believe what you’re able to do to him without even trying.

that’s it” he coos, leaning back just pinning you with a stare that has you melting already. “fuck, look at you, a goddamn slut. you look so dirty like this...”

you bite your lip, suppressing a moan as the pleasure builds, the fabric of your clothes rubbing deliciously against your throbbing core. the wetness between your legs is undeniable now, soaking through your panties, your racing suit and onto his thigh. you know he can feel it too, and the realization only makes you grind down harder, your desperation growing with every passing second.

“please, i need more,” you whimper, the words slipping out in a moment of vulnerability. your voice is heavy with desperation, your body trembling with the effort to find release.

“namgyu..” thanos whispers, toying with your tits. “i’m tired of fucking waiting.”

without a second beat, namgyu pulls his thigh away from in between your legs. your hips stutter and you feel yourself falling, but he’s quick to catch you. you whine loudly, feeling the warm feeling in your stomach slowly fade away.

“come on, sweetheart,” namgyu tuts, mocking you. “you can’t even fucking stand?”

before you can fully register it, hands settle on your shoulders, firm, steady, unmistakably thanos. his touch is hurried, an undeniable strength beneath it. without a word, he turns you around, guiding you with ease until your chest is pressed against the desk’s edge. the wood is cold against your fingertips as you brace yourself, heart pounding in your chest.

thanos stands close, his frame imposing as he looks down at you, his expression unreadable. his fingers trail down your arms before settling at your waist, the pressure light but commanding.

namgyu leans casually against the desk beside you, watching with an amused tilt of his head. his eyes flicker between you and thanos, a smirk playing at his lips. "gotta see this pretty pussy," he mumbles, tapping his fingers against the desk’s surface.

thanos hums in agreement, his fingers flexing slightly at your sides, “bet she’s fucking dripping.”

namgyu pushes your dress up past your ass, both men soaking in the view in front of them. you push your hips back involuntarily.

namgyu leans in just slightly, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “i can feel you shaking,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “nervous?”

you don’t answer, and that only seems to amuse him more.

thanos clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “she’s quiet again.” his thumbs press just slightly into your waist, the warmth of his touch sending another shiver through you. “that’s cute.”

namgyu watches the way your breath hitches at that, and his smirk widens. “you like when he talks to you like that, don’t you?” his tone is teasing, knowing, like he already has the answer. he trails a finger lightly along your wrist before brushing it beneath your chin, tilting your face up just slightly. “come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, dark eyes glinting. “use your words.”

your lips part, but the only thing that escapes is a shaky moan.

thanos chuckles softly, his voice low, almost taunting. “looks like we’ll have to help her out.”

in a swift motion, thanos pulls your underwear down, leaving it at your ankles. you hear a dark chuckle behind you, undeniably namgyu.

your stomach flips, and you try to look away, only for namgyu’s grip on your chin to keep you in place. “oh no,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “you don’t get to look away now. you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“god, she’s fucking drenched.” thanos groans, and namgyu lets go of your chin. he goes back behind you, out of view.

you feel a long finger dance around your pussy, collecting the slick that threatens to drip to the floor.

“such a pretty pussy,” thanos whispers, more to himself than anyone else. "you hear that, namgyu? you hear how wet she is?"

"fuck, yeah," namgyu replies, a hand rubbing over the bulge of his pants. he had to admit, he was jealous of thanos, him being able to please you first.

"hurry up, thanos. i want to touch her next." thanos chuckles, turning his attention back to you. "doesn't that turn you on, hm? don't you like hearing how badly namgyu wants to touch you like this?" thanos says, pressing a thumb against your clit and creating sensual circles around the area that makes you more sensitive. you moan as a response, your body trembling from his actions. "yes.. shit,, i want namgyu- to touch me too.." you reply.

looking at namgyu who nearly came from the needy pitch of your voice.

"you heard her, ‘gyu," thanos says, glancing at namgyu with a grin and you found yourself in between the two men. while thanos slowly pushed a finger into your aching pussy and rubbing circles against your clit, namgyu had pushed you up with his hands to touch your breasts. thanos holds you, your back against his chest, letting namgyu pinch your nipples with his fingers, getting a little whine out of your mouth.

"you fucking disgust me," namgyu insults, leaving love marks on your neck and he kisses your shoulders. the beautiful sounds you’re making just leaves namgyu wanting to mark you all over with his mouth. he pinches your nipples again, “you’re so greedy, one person touching you isn’t enough?”

thanos smirks, slipping another finger into your pussy. your eyes widen in astonishment, feeling yourself stretch around his fingers. your moans become louder at that point, due to the combination of namgyu leaving marks all over you while fondling your nipples as thanos plays with your pussy.

"yeah, that's a good girl. moan just for me," thanos adds, smirking as his knuckles began smacking the entrance of your pussy.

namgyu glares at thanos, before slipping one hand away from your breast to grab your head. namgyu turns your face towards him and presses his lips against yours while maintaining eye contact with thanos. the purple haired man furrows his brows, watching as you and namgyu’s tongues swirled sloppily around each others. the two now seem to have an ongoing battle of who can please you the best.

“ 'm gonna c-cum," you utter through your moans, mouth parting slightly from namgyu’s, a strong of saliva connecting from your tongue to his. thanos smiles, curling his fingers to rub faster against your g-spot. "c'mon princess, cum for me," he says, lowering his face to your pussy and replaces his thumb with his tongue on your clit.

"oh f-fuck, thanos-" you mewl his name, eyes nearly rolling back as your legs tremble from the fast licks his tongue was giving against your clit. namgyu couldn't do much but continue to play with your breast and watch thanos fuck your pussy until you came. namgyu grunts as your hands push to free his cock out and wrap around his girth.

your mind is too overstimulated with the situation and you couldn't bother caring about anything else. "shitshitshit, i'm cumming-" you cry out, gushing over thanos’ mouth and fingers.

thanos licks and cleans all of your juices that squirted onto your thighs and by his mouth, savoring the taste. he stares deep into namgyu’s eyes when licking off your arousal on his fingers, smiling cockily since namgyu wasn't able to get a taste. "i might actually get addicted to this pussy," he comments before he unzips his pants to releases his hard throbbing cock.

your eyes widen at the sight of both of their dicks as you come down from your high. "oh, you scared, princess?" namgyu chuckles, but you instantly shake your head.

namgyu pushes you back to your original position against the desk, admiring how your pussy clenches around nothing. “please fuck me, namgyu..”

"you hear that, thanos? hear and see how she's begging for my cock?" namgyu asks, glancing at thanos to see his reaction. he just needed to rub it in the others face.

thanos steps in front of the desk you lay face down on, pulling you up slightly by your hair. a pained whine falls from your lips and you reach up to grab thanos’ hand, but he’s quick to put his cock in your grasp.

thanos glares at namgyu, not replying as his attention was mostly on the way your hand gripped around his cock. "you’re clenching around nothing, angel. that desperate?" namgyu adds, teasing your wet entrance with the tip of his cock before pushing his tip past your folds.

"o-oh my god-" you moan, eyes widening from the feeling of namgyu’s cock rubbing against your walls, nearly making you cum again. namgyu grunts when your tight pussy instantly clenches around him, and he quietly chuckles.

"fuck..," he moans, letting you adjust to the tip before pushing inside another inch.

"touch me too, angel. don't forget about me," thanos whimpers, his words purring into the air as he bucks his hips up to feel your soft hand rub against his desperate cock. you began to pump your hand along thanos’ cock just like he wanted, causing him to moan above you. you look up at him in front of the desk with pleading eyes, seeing his hooded ones catch yours. “s-shit.. i might cum just because of your hands," he chuckles.

namgyu’s hands grip tightly on your hips as he completely bottoms out inside of you, his cock was already fucked deep into you, spreading and pleasuring your walls towards your next orgasm. "n-ngh.. squeezing me so damn hard. you want my cum that badly, baby?" namgyu groans, faintly throwing his head back.

"y-yes, pleaseee," you whine, your cunt sucking in namgyu’s cock at his words. the man groans, starting a rough pace and drilling deeper into your pussy.

thanos intently watches namgyu pounds into your needy hole relentlessly, turning you into a crying and moaning mess. his dick twitches at the sight of you two connecting, making him wonder what it'd be like to be in namgyu’s position.

"fuckkk, holy fuck-" thanos chants, his eyes nearly rolling back because of how satisfied his dick was feeling. "we should make her ours, thanos. make her our whore, yeah?" namgyu glances at thanos, who only moans as a response when you swirl your thumb around his swollen tip. "seems like she wants to, thanos. the way she's clenching her dirty little cunt tightly around me tells me she wants to be ours. that right, slut?" namgyu utters, now staring into your tear filled eyes as he continues thrusting into you.

you nod your head several times, unable to even speak.

“come on, sweetheart. put it in your mouth, okay?” thanos groans, rubbing his precum on your cheek.

you slowly take thanos in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his swollen tip. you bob your head slowly back and forth, sucking and slurping thanos’ cock while using another hand to pump the rest of his length that was unable to fit into your mouth.

even with something inside your mouth, you couldn’t control the loud moans that you breathe out through your nose.

"hear her, thanos? she's moaning like a damn slut," namgyu grins, slapping your ass.

"yeah, i like it," thanos replies, pushing his length into your mouth again, feeling your moans vibrate against his dick. "g-gonna fill her mouth with my cum..”

as namgyu was reaching his climax, he penetrates his cock deeper into your cunt, making sure all of his cum would reach into your womb. you cry out, rushes of ecstasy flowing through your veins before namgyu shoots his warm seed into you. at the same moment, thanos prods his entire length into your mouth, whether it fit or not, and releases his load into the back of your throat. your mind is completely scrambled, cramped with lust struck thoughts of the two men.

“holy shit,” thanos groans, holding your head in place on his dick while namgyu keeps fucking into you, allowing you to find your own orgasm.

you cum with a loud whine, hips shaking uncontrollably as namgyu roughly pushes all of his cum into your tight hole. the office around you was going black, your nose being pushed into thanos’ pubic bone as you try to find the air to breathe.

thanos pulls out of your mouth with a *pop* and smiles down at you widely. “you’re amazing.”

“she’s a fucking whore is what she is.” namgyu hisses, slapping your ass one more time before pulling out completely.

you keep your filled cunt exposed to him, moaning softly when namgyu’s cum begins to spill out.

- - - - ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

uhhh taglist: @kouzih @cybrasigilism

[acmeangel]

♡ Levi hires you to work at his tea shop, and the two of you become close.

♡ SFW fluff! ♡ Postwar!Levi x Fem!Reader ♡ One shot, soft Levi, friends to lovers vibes ♡ Word count: 2416 ♡ Summary: Levi hired you years ago to work at his tea shop, back when it was brand new. Over the years, you became close friends, and recently developed into more. You're both a bit rough around the edges, but get each other in a way no one else can. You're like two black cats in love.

It was years ago that you'd walked by Levi's tea shop in Marley and noticed the piece of paper pinned to the door that simply said "Hiring." in bold, slightly messy, handwriting.

Your eyebrows raised despite yourself, slightly amused by the straightforwardness of the sign -- no frills, no details, no niceties.

Marley had only just started to get on its feet again after a full year of scraping by while rebuilding, trying to shake off the lingering fears and treat the deepest wounds. Everyone was on the precipice of healing, and you figured it was as good a time as any to bring back some normalcy into your life. Working at a tea shop seemed like a decent enough way to do that; quiet, peaceful, easy enough. You were never much of a people person, but you could handle basic customer interactions.

When you'd entered the tea shop, you were met with Levi, who was behind the counter, a focused -- but not harsh -- look on his face as he neatly stacked boxes of tea into an orderly pyramid, a small display of the tea flavors. The bell above the door jingled as you entered, and he looked up at you, his gaze narrowing slightly, his hands pausing their precise movements. You got a clear look at his face -- the cloudy white eye, the healing scars tracing patterns into his skin.

"Hiring?" You asked, simply, nodding toward the sign on the window.

His eyes darted toward the sign, as if he'd forgotten that he put it there, and then fell back onto you.

"Guess so," he answered, his voice lacking any sort of feeling about the matter. "You want to work here?"

Before answering, your gaze scanned along the interior of the tea shop -- it was small and sparsely decorated, but not in a cold way. It was simple, comforting. Small wooden tables dotted the perimeter, intricately painted ceramic tea cups were stacked behind the counter, a few plants sat in the windowsills, drinking in the hazy sunlight.

"Yeah." Your gaze found his again, and you nodded. "I do."

"'Kay." His focus returned to the pyramid of tea boxes, his hands continuing to organize the stack. "What makes you qualified?"

"It's making tea," you retorted, dryly, without thinking. "Not mechanical engineering." You regretted it the instant you said it, realizing you'd likely butchered your chances of getting hired and that you should've made something up about having a passion for serving the community.

Without moving his head, his eyes drifted toward you, and you could see the faintest look of amusement tugging on his lips.

"Fine." This was all he had said, and you waited for him to ask more questions to evaluate you further, but they never came.

You stood there, somewhat awkwardly, watching as he continued working on his little display of boxes. Once he was finished, he tossed an apron over the counter toward you, which you caught, the fabric balled up into your hands. You were hired.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long for you to get accustomed to working alongside Levi. Neither of you were particularly talkative, preferring to keep to yourselves as you did your individual tasks; but, even separately, you worked in perfect harmony together, a seamless fit.

Over the years, it became less that you worked for Levi, and more that you worked with him, the tea shop turning into something that belonged to the both of you. It was never something that was discussed, it was just understood.

You'd started adding your touches to the shop -- art hung on the walls, pillows on the chairs, little knickknacks here and there. The shop was undeniably warmer and more inviting, and even though Levi would narrow his gaze each time you added something new, he never stopped you.

One day, he'd even shown up and placed a small ceramic cat on the counter, adjusting its position just so, though he wouldn't tell you where he got it. You'd teased him, somewhat relentlessly, about it, to which he blushed despite himself and muttered that it was never going to happen again, that you were a horrible nuisance in his life; you called him "such a baby", but made him a cup of black tea and all was forgiven. He brought a new plant into the shop the following week.

You'd share knowing glances with each other whenever a customer was particularly talkative or bothersome, and after they'd leave, you'd gripe to each other about it.

During breaks or lulls in the day, you'd both hover over the same book on the counter, reading simultaneously, your shoulders brushed together just barely. You wouldn't say anything, or even share your thoughts or opinions -- you'd just read, together, settled into the quiet of the tea shop.

As the time passed on, you'd begun to care for Levi, in a way you hadn't expected, hadn't experienced before. When he'd occasionally burn his hand on the stove, you'd hold the ice to his hand. When he had a cold (which he'd never admit to), you'd bring him soup from the cafe down the street. When you could tell he hadn't been sleeping well, you'd tell him to go home early and you'd handle cleaning up and closing the shop.

He'd always frown slightly and say something about how you shouldn't go through the trouble, that he can take care of himself, but you could tell that he appreciated it, that he might have even begun to count on it. You'd usually just tell him to shut up. He'd laugh, barely.

You knew, somehow, that you were the only person he let treat him this way -- gentle, caring.

You two had developed a quiet sort of friendship. You didn't talk all that much, you never saw each other outside of the shop, and you were both a bit rough around the edges. But, you fit together. Understood each other. It was as simple as that.

That was how it had been for years, which is why it took you by surprise when, on one particularly cold winter night, Levi insisted on walking you home after closing. You'd hesitated for a moment to answer, recalling all of the rainy, snowy, cold late nights that you'd walked home alone before, but the expression on his face told you that any protesting would be pointless. So, you let him.

Once you'd arrived at your front door, the two of you lingered silently on your porch, the only sound the soft creaking of the wood below and the brisk wind shuffling through the trees.

"Thanks for walking me home, Levi," you'd said, pulling your key out of your coat pocket and beginning to reach for the door. "Goodni-"

His hand clasped around your wrist, halting your movement. Your eyes snapped up to his face, his gaze secured onto his grip on your wrist. A stretched moment of quiet passed between you two, as you waited for him to say something, but he didn't.

"Okay," you said, drawing the word out, raising an eyebrow slightly as you look at him. "Are you holding me hostage because you think it'd be funny to see me freeze to death out here, or...?"

The tension in his expression dissipated slightly, your dry, teasing tone eased his frayed nerves with a comforting familiarity. He'd gotten used to you, to the way you spoke; it became one of the few, small things he'd ever allowed himself to rely on.

"Y/N," he said, his tone taking on a softness, a somewhat pleading vulnerability that you'd never heard before, as his eyes finally drifted up to meet your gaze. The cloudy grayness in his eye faded into a pale, ethereal blue under the moonlight, the features of his face illuminated, exposed.

He didn't have to say another word. You knew exactly what he meant. That was just the way you two worked.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, knowingly, the word pillowing into the cold air.

His hand slid down your wrist to your hand, his rough, calloused fingers gripping around yours with a sense of uncertainty and newness, like he was learning a new language. He tugged gently, drawing you in, close enough that when both of you breathed, the visible clouds mixed together.

His free hand rose to your face, slowly grasping around your jaw. His teeth clenched slightly, a hint of self-consciousness in his gaze as he looked at the gap his missing fingers left on your cheek; feeling unable to hold you completely.

"Don't," you whispered, somewhat sternly, urging the self-doubt out of his gaze. Your hand flew up to cover his, holding it against your face, the missing fingers not even a thought in your mind.

"You always do that." The words came out as a rough, tumbling statement.

Your lips curled into a faint smile, your head tilted into his palm. "Do what?"

"Protect me," he whispered, his eyes searching yours, "from myself, mostly."

"Can't help it," you whispered back, the words softening his gaze even further.

Before he could think about it more, before he could stop himself, he pulled you in closer, only a sliver of cold air between your lips. He paused for a beat, drawing in a shallow breath, before closing the space. His lips trembled against yours for a fleeting second, before melting against yours. A perfect fit.

His grip on your cheek tightened slightly, his lips moved against yours with a quiet desperation, as if communicating all the words he'd been wanting to say.

He broke the kiss just as suddenly as it started, his lips remaining parted, soft and glistening.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispered, before leaning in to press a kiss on your cheek by your ear, his thumb brushing against your jaw one last time. He took one last look at you, his expression somewhat unreadable, before turning and walking away, leaving you at your doorstep.

That night was not too long ago, only a few weeks had passed since. Your relationship was like a delicate melody -- starting slow and gentle, then blooming into a perfectly synchronized symphony.

He'd started walking you home every night, and he'd come inside for a while, sitting on your couch with you, talking more than he ever had (which still wasn't much, by most people's standards). You'd make dinner for the two of you, drape a blanket on his lap on the couch, gently tend to the scars on his face when they'd occasionally get irritated.

You'd lean your head on his shoulder, intertwine your fingers with his. Sometimes, he'd lean into your touch, slinging an arm around you and letting his head settle into the curve of your neck. Your fingers would stroke his hair softly or trace patterns up and down his back.

He'd always thank you at the end of the night and kiss you as if you were about to disappear into thin air. While he never specified what he was thanking you for, you knew he was thanking you for taking care of him.

That's all you really wanted to do -- care for him. You knew that his scars ran deeper than the visible ones, and the more he shared bits of his past with you, you could tell that he never had it easy. His life, until now, was one of fighting, survival, and loss. All you wanted was to alleviate some of the pain, some of the weight that had built up within him for so long.

So, you did these little things to dote on him, to show him what true affection felt like, in hopes that someday, he'd realize how deserving he is of it. That over time, the little things would grow into bigger things, that affection wouldn't be so foreign and unsettling to him. You were willing to wait.

He was standing by your front door now, slinging his jacket onto his shoulders, preparing to head home after another night spent together. You'd sat on the couch, his head on your shoulder, and he'd just finished telling you a simple story about Furlan and Isabel, who you'd learned about recently.

"Levi," you begin, your eyes shifting toward the window, at the powdery snow flurrying through the air. "It's freezing outside, you need more than a jacket."

His gaze follows yours out the window, his expression remaining unfazed. "It's just snow, Y/N."

You ignore him, and grab a knit, brightly colored scarf from the coat rack and hand it to him, your expression stern, but gentle. "Wear this."

"What? You can't be serious. I'll look ridiculous," he looks at you and the scarf dubiously, his brows pressed together with distaste. "I'll be fine."

"Would you just shut up and take it?" You roll your eyes, but you smile, affectionately. Before he can object further, you wrap the scarf around him, earning a groan from the back of his throat.

His nose scrunches slightly in disapproval, and the corners of his lips curve downward, but he lets you finish placing the scarf around his neck.

"Thanks, Y/N," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss your cheek, the touch soft and fleeting.

Mhm, you hum softly, satisfied with your little victory. You think he's about to turn and leave, but he doesn't -- he stands there, still, looking at you for a long moment.

"What, hoping to get a matching beanie?" You tease, warmly, a laugh escaping your lips.

He shakes his head.

"I told you a while ago that I never felt like I had a home before. Not a real one, anyway. But..." he says, his voice taking on a softened introspection, a gentleness to his face that you've discovered he reserves only for you. "I think this is it."

"Marley? Yeah, it's not so bad. Told you you'd get used to it," you say, a gentle, affectionate teasing in your voice, your fingers adjusting the scarf around his neck.

"No, Y/N. Not Marley," he corrects, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze remaining intently fixated on yours. "You. You're my home."

Your expression melts, a faint pink blush rising to your cheeks. Your hand drifts up from the scarf to cradle his cheek, your thumb tracing his cheekbone.

He turns his head, his eyes remaining on you, and he presses a soft kiss into your palm. The kiss feels like he's making a promise to always be yours, and for you to always be his.

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by @beautiful-is-boring

[dollgxtz]

Hide and Surrender

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: A simple game of hide and seek turns way more intense than you thought it would.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?”

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, cnc, cunnilingus, predator play, predator x prey, hide and seek with roleplay, restraining, chasing, slightly rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, forced blowjob

AN: Another fic idea that wouldn't leave my head. Can't remember which Touring in Love chapter it was, but in it Sylus plays hide and seek with us. And I was like, yknow what would make this 100x better? Predator play :3

"What would you like to play? I'll join you."

Those were the words that started it all.

You had half-expected Sylus to scoff at your suggestion, to find you childish for wanting to indulge in a game meant for children. But to your surprise, he agreed without hesitation, not even asking why. There was something in the way he said it, though—something that made your pulse quicken.

"You've played this before, right, Sylus?" you ask, covering your eyes with your hands to demonstrate. "You cover your eyes like this and count to ten. Then you come find me."

A moment of silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken. Then, warm fingers wrap around your wrists, prying your hands gently away from your face. Your breath catches as you find yourself trapped beneath Sylus’ gaze—two crimson eyes watching you with something unreadable, something dangerous.

Those eyes—burning, searing, all-consuming—lock onto yours with something unreadable, something dangerous. It’s not just amusement or curiosity; it’s something deeper, something that snakes around your ribs and makes it hard to breathe. The way he looks at you is slow, patient, as if he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece, as if he’s already thought of a thousand ways this game will end.

You feel your heart hammering against your ribs, loud, deafening, a traitorous thing that gives away too much.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, as if studying you. The corners of his lips twitch—not quite a smile, but something just as unsettling.

"I didn’t have time or interest for such games when I was a child," he murmurs, his voice low, almost predatory. His lips curl into something between a smirk and a smile, and the way he looms over you makes you feel smaller, caged. "But for you? I’ll learn quickly, kitten."

The pet name slithers through the air, coiling around you, sinking into your skin like a brand. A shiver ripples down your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving a molten trail in its wake. Heat pools deep in your underwear, an unwelcome warmth that you fight to ignore. Your throat goes dry, and you tear your gaze away, desperate to escape the weight of his stare. But it’s too late—he’s already seen it.

A low chuckle spills from his lips, rich and smooth, yet laced with something dark. Something knowing. The sound wraps around you, thick with amusement, but there’s something beneath it, something that burrows under your skin and makes your pulse falter in a way that has nothing to do with fear. It’s dangerous—not because of what it is, but because of how your body reacts to it.

Like a predator toying with its prey.

He lingers, close enough that the heat of him prickles against your skin, close enough that you can see the glint in his half-lidded eyes. Yet, just as your breath catches in your throat, just as the tension coils so tight it threatens to snap, he takes a step back. Barely. Not enough to be safe—never enough to be safe—but just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.

His head tilts slightly, gaze lazy, his voice dipping into something slow, syrupy, dangerously smooth.

"Go on, then."

The words are soft, but there’s no playfulness in them anymore. No lighthearted teasing. Only promise. A single word, unspoken but heavy in the air between you.

"Hide."

There’s definitely no playfulness in his voice now.

Your pulse roars in your ears as adrenaline surges through your veins. Fine. You weren’t going down easy. This was just a simple game of Hide and Seek—nothing more. You force yourself to ignore the way your stomach twists, how your breath feels too fast, too shallow. You're overthinking it. Sylus loves to tease you, to get under your skin, to watch you squirm. He loves making you flustered, and you know that. But still…there's something in the way his lips curled into a smirk before he turned around to count, something in his tone when he called out, that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"One…two…three…"

The second his eyes leave you, you bolt. Your feet pound against the tile floor as you dash up the stairs, each step groaning under your weight. Your movements are clumsy, fueled by nothing but instinct. You wince at how loud you are, practically announcing your location, but at this point? Who cares. The only thing that matters is finding a place to hide before—

"Ten." His voice is slow, deliberate. You swear you hear amusement laced in it.

You don't stop running. You throw yourself into his room, nearly tripping over your own feet as you spin wildly, scanning the space for the perfect hiding spot. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession, air burning in your lungs. The bed? No, too obvious. Under the desk? Not enough coverage.

Then, you hear it.

"Let's see where my little kitten decided to hide."

Your blood turns to ice.

Without thinking, you dive toward the closet, yanking the door open just enough to squeeze inside before gently—so gently—pulling it shut, leaving only the smallest crack to peek through. Darkness swallows you whole, the scent of Sylus’s cologne thick in the enclosed space, invading your senses. Your back presses against the wall, every inch of you wound so tightly that your muscles ache. Your breath comes in rapid, uneven pants, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to silence yourself.

Your heart pounds violently against your ribs, so loud it feels like it’s betraying you, threatening to give you away. You try to steady it, to slow your breaths, but every little sound—the creak of a floorboard, the soft click of a door opening—sends another jolt of panic surging through you.

Then, footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Getting closer.

You hear him before you see him.

The door creaks open, a slow, deliberate sound that cuts through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. The room seems to shrink, the air thickening as his presence fills the space. It’s not just the sound of his footsteps—it’s something deeper, something intangible, an unseen force that presses against your chest, making it harder to breathe. Your heart pounds in response, the steady thump-thump-thump filling your ears like a war drum. Even as fear coils in your stomach, there's an undeniable thrill laced within it, a rush of something you refuse to name.

Through the narrow crack in the closet door, you finally see him. Sylus moves with practiced ease, unhurried, precise, like a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run. His crimson eyes flicker with something unreadable as they scan the room. He doesn’t fumble, doesn’t hesitate. There’s an unsettling certainty to his movements, a quiet confidence that makes your pulse quicken.

His fingers trail lazily along the back of the couch before he crouches, peering beneath it. “Not under the couch, I see,” he muses, his voice smooth, almost casual. But there’s something beneath the words, something sharp, something laced with amusement, as if he already knows exactly where you are.

"Behind the curtains, maybe?" He doesn’t sound like he’s searching. He sounds like he’s toying with you.

He straightens, then shifts his focus to the glass windows, where the heavy curtains hang still. He moves toward them, fingertips grazing the fabric before he suddenly jerks them aside. You tense instinctively, though you know you aren’t there. He pauses, as if savoring the moment, before releasing the curtain and letting it drift back into place.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. Your lungs burn with the effort of staying quiet, of keeping still.

Then he turns, and your heart stutters violently in your chest as his gaze lands on the bed. No way he doesn’t already know where you are. No way his senses are that dull. You watch, frozen in place, as he slowly kneels, resting a hand against the mattress as he leans down to inspect the space beneath the frame. He hums softly. "Hmm...not under the bed either."

The moment he stands, you know. His next stop is the wardrobe.

A faint chuckle spills from his lips, low, knowing, as he starts toward you with slow, deliberate steps. Every cell in your body screams at you to move, but you remain paralyzed, pressed against the back of the closet as if you could somehow will yourself into the shadows. You can barely hear over the deafening thud of your heartbeat.

"Y’know, kitten," he drawls, his voice a lazy, syrupy purr that drips with something thick, something dangerous, "the sooner you come out, the gentler I’ll be with you."

Your breath catches violently in your throat. His voice alone sends a jolt through you, a sharp, involuntary response that leaves you feeling raw, exposed.

Then—he stops.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, before abruptly turning away. "Oh right, I almost forgot to check the living room."

This is your chance. Your only chance.

No time to think—just move!

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. With a burst of energy, you shove the closet door open and bolt. The sudden shift from stillness to motion is disorienting, but you don’t stop, don’t hesitate. Your feet slam against the floor as you propel yourself forward, the only thought in your mind being run.

You don’t dare look back.

But then—air shifts behind you.

A sharp inhale. A pivot of movement.

And then—footsteps. Fast. Closing in.

Panic surges through you, raw and electric, as you push yourself harder. Your legs burn, your lungs ache, but you don’t stop. You just have to make it downstairs. Just a little farther. Just a little—

A rush of air. A presence at your back.

And then—a hand. Wrapping around your wrist.

You scream, a sharp, startled sound that barely has time to leave your lips before Sylus yanks you back with a firm tug of your wrist. The sudden force sends you stumbling, crashing into his chest, your breath hitching as his arm snakes around your waist, keeping you locked in place. He’s warm, solid, unyielding, and far too close. His scent—something dark and intoxicating—invades your senses, making your already racing heart hammer harder.

“Found you, kitten,” he murmurs, amusement dripping from his tone. His lips curl into a smirk as he tilts his head slightly, eyes glowing with satisfaction. “I was starting to worry I lost you forever.”

The mockery in his voice is unmistakable, but inwardly, you’re grinning, nearly laughing. This was exactly what you wanted—a chase, a fight, a chance to push back. But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you put on your best scowl, defiance burning in your gaze.

"Your acting’s gotten worse," you spit, jerking against his hold. You bring your knee up sharply, aiming for his groin with all the force you can muster.

But he’s faster.

Before your knee can make contact, a thick tendril of red mist swirls around you, his Evol surging to life in an instant. The energy coils around your limbs like living chains, locking you in place just as he moves.

In the blink of an eye, he shifts, twisting effortlessly, using his grip on you to throw you onto the bed with little more than a flick of his wrist. The mattress dips beneath your weight, and before you can even think of scrambling away, he’s already on top, looming over you, his expression smug, too amused.

You lash out.

Your fist shoots toward his face, but he leans back smoothly, just enough for your knuckles to miss his jaw by mere inches. You shift, twisting your body, using the momentum to kick upward, aiming for his ribs. Again, he dodges—his body shifting effortlessly, as if he already knows exactly what you’re going to do before you do it.

“Tsk, tsk,” he hums, easily maneuvering around another wild swing from you. “You’re getting sloppy, kitten. I thought you were actually trying.”

You grit your teeth, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. You manage to free an arm from the tendrils of mist, and without hesitation, you try to land a punch to his shoulder. This time, he catches your wrist mid-air, his grip tightening just enough to still your movement.

“You bast—” You twist your hips sharply, using every ounce of strength to break free, but he barely even moves. If anything, he looks bored, like he’s humoring you.

Sylus chuckles, low and deep. “You really don’t know when to give up, do you?” His grip on your wrist shifts slightly before he suddenly pushes you down hard, making you gasp as your bodies gravity shifts, forced into submission once again.

You feel your pulse jump when his lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to something even smoother, even softer, but no less dangerous.

“And here I thought we were just playing.” His fingers tighten ever so slightly around your wrists, his body pressing just close enough to remind you how little control you actually have in this moment. “I guess it’s my turn to get serious, hm?”

Your breath catches.

Something shifts in the air.

"S-Sylus, wait—" you gasp, your words catching in your throat as the sound of fabric tearing fills the room. In one swift motion, he's ripped your shorts apart, leaving your legs exposed to the cool air, the sudden chill a stark contrast to the heat still simmering between your thighs. Your underwear is the only thing left, a flimsy barrier between his intentions and your already soaked folds.

You start to protest, a mix of shock and anticipation swirling inside you, but the words die on your lips as Sylus shushes you softly, his voice a low, calming murmur. "Shh..." he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine.

"All that fighting, and yet you're soaked down here, kitten".

With deliberate slowness, he lowers his head between your thighs, the anticipation building as his lips hover just above the thin cloth. His tongue flicks out, tracing the outline of your folds through the fabric with agonizing precision. Each stroke is slow, torturous, a teasing promise of what's to come, and your protests dissolve into soft whimpers of need.

"An orgasm or two should get rid of that feistiness," he murmurs against you, his voice a rich, dark promise that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

Sylus's fingers deftly hook into the elastic of your panties, pulling the cloth aside with a practiced ease that leaves you exposed to him, vulnerable and aching. The cool air brushes against your skin for a fleeting moment before his mouth descends, and all coherent thought shatters as his tongue finds your aching cunt.

"Ah!"

The first touch is electric, a jolt of pure pleasure that arches your back off the bed, your hips lifting to meet him with a desperate need. His tongue works with a deliberate, maddening rhythm, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks that have you gasping for breath.

Your hands find their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold him to you, guiding him closer even as your mind spins with the intensity of it all. He doesn't mind in the slightest, his low, satisfied hum sending vibrations through you, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"This—is c-cheating..." you manage to whine between ragged breaths, though your actions betray you as your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his mouth, seeking more of the pleasure he's so expertly giving.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?” he says, before continuing his assault on your clit. His words send your head spinning and you suddenly feel like you can barely breathe.

With a renewed dedication, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that leaves you trembling. The world dissolves around you, leaving nothing but the exquisite sensation of his mouth on you, driving you relentlessly toward the peak of ecstasy.

The sensation of his tongue slipping inside you leaves you reeling, each thrust a masterful stroke that has you feeling drunk on the sheer ecstasy he’s delivering. It’s a skill that seems almost divine, the way he knows exactly how to unravel you, how to make you moan and whine so uncontrollably that it borders on begging.

Your body responds helplessly, hips bucking against him as your hands clutch at the sheets, trying to anchor yourself in the storm of pleasure. His tongue moves with purpose, each flick and thrust pushing you closer to that precipice, until finally, he shifts his focus, sucking on your clit with a precision that sends you spiraling over the edge.

The orgasm tears through you, leaving you breathless and shaking, your cries echoing in the room as you ride out the waves of bliss. But even as you begin to descend from the high, you’re dismayed to find that Sylus isn’t stopping, his mouth still working you with relentless dedication.

“P-please...no more...” you plead, trying to twist away, your body oversensitive and overwhelmed. But he simply adjusts his grip, his hands firm on your waist, holding you in place with an easy strength that keeps you from escaping.

“Still a little feisty, hm?” he teases, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looks up at you. “Like I thought. One more should do.” His words are a promise and a challenge, and as his mouth returns to its task, you know you’re helpless to resist the pull of his mastery, your body already surrendering to the inevitable wave building once more.

"Mgnh...ah..."

And just as promised, the fight within you starts to ebb away, like sand slipping through fingers, as Sylus's tongue continues its relentless, masterful assault. The pleasure builds higher to the point where it almost hurts, a crescendo that leaves you breathless and trembling, unable to do anything but call out his name, your voice breaking as your body jerks and shakes under his skilled touch.

"Sylus!"

The second orgasm crashes over you, pulling you under its tide, leaving you riding the waves of ecstasy until you finally collapse, utterly spent, like a boneless heap of jello. Your chest heaves with each ragged breath, tears of overstimulation gathering at the corners of your eyes, evidence of the intensity that just ripped through you.

Sylus leans back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he licks his lips, savoring the taste of you. He studies you with a mixture of amusement and triumph, taking in your ragdoll form sprawled before him. "Going to try and fight me again?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

You manage a weak shake of your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your own lips, despite the exhaustion. Damn this slick bastard and his godly tongue, you think, a mixture of exasperation and admiration swirling within you.

"Good, just how I like you," he murmurs, his voice a low purr that sends a shiver through your already sensitive body. His hands move to his belt, fingers working with deliberate slowness to undo it, each click of the metal buckle a promise of what's to come. "Seems you're ready for the last phase of our game," he declares, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with a hunger that promises there's much more yet to be explored.

You lay there, your body still humming with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure he had delivered, your eyes heavy-lidded, your breath coming in short gasps. Sylus, ever attentive, noticed your gaze drifting downward, a mix of anticipation and desire in your eyes as you took in the hard and prominent bulge in his pants.

Your cheeks flushed as you realized the effect you had on him, his hard length straining and throbbing against the fabric of his pants, a testament to the pent-up desire that had been building throughout your little "game." He had only eaten you out and yet his cock seemed like it was about to burst and break the zipper.

Sylus finishes undoing his belt, the soft clinking of the metal a rhythmic counterpoint to your pounding heartbeat. The anticipation is electric, a live wire thrumming between you as his pants finally fall away, revealing the impressive length of him. Even after all the times you’ve had each other, his size never fails to elicit a sense of awe.

Your eyes widened as Sylus, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, moved closer, his hard length throbbing in front of your mouth. You shook your head, a silent refusal, playing hard to get, but he was having none of it. With a swift motion, he cupped your chin, tilting your head back and guiding his throbbing cock towards your mouth.

"Open up, sweetie," he whispered, his voice a low command. "Good little prey does as they're told."

Your heart raced as you felt the heat of his cock against your lips, his hands firm on your head, guiding you to take him in. You strained for control, but his grip tightened, and with a gentle yet insistent pressure, he pushed his length past your lips, filling your mouth with his hardness.

You gagged slightly, your eyes watering, but he held you firmly in place, his cock sliding deeper, his hands holding your face still, ensuring you took him all the way down your throat.

"Good girl," he moaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "Breathe through your nose, kitten."

You did as he commanded, your mouth working around his length, your tongue swirling, your throat constricting around him, the sensation of his hardness and the taste of him overwhelming your senses. He began to thrust gently, his hips moving in a slow, controlled rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, his moans filling the room.

"That's it," he whispered, his breath ragged. "Take all of me, claim me as I'll claim you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you redoubled your efforts, your mouth and throat working in unison, your hands gripping his thighs as he used your mouth for his pleasure. But just as you thought he would climax, he pulled out, his cock glistening with your saliva.

"Not yet," he said, his voice hoarse. "I won't miss the chance to claim my freshly caught prey with my seed."

He catches the wide look in your eyes and grins again, a wicked gleam lighting up his features as he moves closer, positioning himself between your trembling thighs. The head of his cock teases your entrance, brushing against your slick folds with a touch so light it sends a tremor of anticipation through you.

"Stay still." he murmurs, his voice a low purr that vibrates against your skin. You nod, breathless, as he begins to push forward, the slow, steady pressure parting your folds and stretching you inch by inch. The sensation is both exquisite and overwhelming, a delicious burn that leaves you gasping, feeling impossibly full as he sinks deeper inside you. You unknowingly tense up, and Sylus pauses.

Sylus's voice, low and soothing, filled the room as he slightly broke from his rough and demeaning role. His hands gently caressing your hips, his body still poised at your entrance. "Might as well relax" he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. "You have no choice but to take it anyways, kitten".

His words, spoken with tenderness and experience, were a balm to your nerves. You recognize this as his way of checking in and reminding you to relax without fully breaking the mood. He began to move with slow, gentle thrusts, his length sliding into you with deliberate slowness, allowing your body time to accommodate his size. "That's it, squeeze around me," he encouraged, his lips brushing your ear. "Feel me filling you, stretching you, making you whole."

The pain began to subside, replaced by a building pleasure as your body accepted his intrusion, the discomfort transforming into a unique blend of sensations. You moaned, a mix of relief and arousal, as he continued his slow, steady rhythm, his body moving in sync with yours, his hands guiding you through the waves of pleasure and discomfort, until the pain was a distant memory, and all that remained was the exquisite sensation of being filled by his hard length.

Your fingers curl into the bedsheets, clutching them for support as he begins to move again, each thrust firm and unrelenting, setting a rhythm that has you moaning helplessly beneath him. The friction is intoxicating, the sound of skin against skin mingling with your cries as you arch into him, your body alight with pleasure.

Sylus's breath came in short, sharp gasps as he thrust into you, his voice thick with desire. "So tight, so fucking wet," he growled, his words a testament to the pleasure you were providing. His hips moved in a relentless rhythm, his powerful strokes driving into your core with a force that left you breathless, your body trembling with each impact.

As the pleasure mounted within you, swelling like a storm threatening to break, Sylus transformed his movements into a slow, torturous dance. Each thrust was languid and deliberate, a teasing rhythm that played your body like a finely tuned instrument. You were on the brink, right at the precipice, but he held you there, tantalizingly close yet agonizingly far from the release you craved.

"Please, Sylus..." you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea, raw with need. "I need to...I need to finish..."

He leaned in, his breath a scorching whisper against your ear, his lips brushing your skin with feather-light caresses. "I'll let you cum, my love, if you tell me who won."

This bastard. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy.

The challenge in his words sent a shiver racing through you, a heady mix of excitement and frustration. You yearned for the release, but admitting his victory felt like a concession too steep. "Fuck you" you spat, your voice caught between resistance and the relentless pull of longing.

Sylus's pace slowed further, each thrust a deliberate tease, his body a contradiction of slow, sensual movements and the raw, simmering desire you could feel pulsing in every inch of him. "Mmm, not quite the answer I'm looking for. Tell me, sweetie," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sending tingling sensations along your skin. "Who won this little game?"

Your body trembled beneath him, caught in the crossfire of need and stubbornness. The sweet torture was a dance of agony and ecstasy, and it was almost too much to bear and you snapped. "You w-won," you finally admitted, the words spilling from your lips like a confession, tearing free as you surrendered to the pleasure he offered, your body arching toward him in a silent plea. "Please...let me cum!"

"That's my good girl," he growled, his voice a low, primal rumble that resonated through your very core. "Now, cum for me."

His pace shifted, each thrust gaining force and urgency, driving deep and hard, a relentless rhythm that pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed around him, muscles tightening in a wave of release, the climax ripping through you with a sweet, shuddering ferocity that left you breathless and utterly spent. In that moment, the world dissolved, leaving only the blissful aftermath of his mastery, the sweet torture finally giving way to a bliss that wrapped around you like a warm, comforting embrace.

As your body shudders around him, gripping him with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Sylus's thrusts grow more frantic, driven by his own approaching climax. The room fills with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

His movements become erratic, each thrust deeper and more urgent, as if he's chasing the very edge of his own orgasm. You can feel the heat building within him, a primal energy that seeks release, and you arch into him, encouraging him to finish inside you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Sylus groans deeply, his body tensing above you as he finds his own release. You feel the hot rush of his climax inside you, a flood of warmth that fills you completely, making you feel full. His body shudders, muscles taut, as he pours himself into you, the sensation a sweet, intimate mingling of pleasure and finality.

Sylus, his breath ragged, withdrew from your body with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent understanding passing between you. He laid down beside you, his body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, his hand gently caressing your sweat-slicked skin, his touch tender and possessive. He peppered kisses on your lips, cheek, forehead and neck before settling next to you.

Both of you lay across the bed, chests rising and falling in sync, the aftermath of your "struggle" leaving a lingering heat in the air. The sheets are a mess beneath you, tangled from the chaos of it all. Your limbs feel heavy, aching from exertion, but there’s still a stubborn pout on your lips as you turn your head to glare at Sylus.

“Not fair!” you huff, breath still uneven. “I should’ve known you’d pull your dirty tricks…You owe me a new pair of shorts, by the way.”

He merely chuckles, the sound deep and rich, and before you can react, he shifts, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you flush against his side. His warmth seeps into your skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest oddly soothing despite everything. He squeezes you playfully, pressing his face against your hair as his laughter rumbles through his body.

“I could buy you a hundred new shorts if you wanted,” he murmurs, his tone amused.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight his hold. Instead, you melt into him, letting your body relax as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. His scent is familiar now, something dark and warm, laced with a hint of something uniquely him. It’s comforting, even if you’d never admit it out loud.

For a moment, there’s peace. Just the steady rhythm of your breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the ghost of a smirk still tugging at his lips.

Then, his voice, soft but teasing.

“I definitely wouldn't mind a second or third round if it ends like this every time. What do you say?” he says, his breath hot against your ear.

Your breath catches, and you pull back just enough to look at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The way his smirk deepens tells you everything you need to know.

[memorabxlia]

Tied Up ━ 방찬

genre: smut summary: “It’s long enough to tie you to the bed.” warnings: language, bondage, oral (fem receiving), begging, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), Chan is referenced as Chris in this, I most definitely forgot something pairing: boyfriend!bangchan x fem!reader wc: 1.2k a/n: DAY 12!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The room smells like pine and cinnamon, a lingering reminder of the Christmas morning chaos. The discarded wrapping paper is scattered across the floor, remnants of gifts exchanged with laughter and delight. You’re perched on the edge of the bed, holding a long piece of red ribbon, about to toss it into the trash when Chris stops you.

“Hey, don’t throw that away,” he says, his voice low and teasing. His eyes gleam with mischief as he plucks the ribbon from your fingers, letting it slide through his hands like silk.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. “And what exactly are you planning to do with this? Tie up some more presents?”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he steps closer. His body radiates warmth, and you feel the heat of him even before he touches you. “Oh, no. This has a much better use.” He leans in, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispers, “It’s long enough to tie you to the bed.”

Your stomach flips, a mix of surprise and anticipation coiling tight inside you. “Is that so?” you murmur, your voice trembling just slightly. The idea sends a shiver down your spine, but not one of fear—no, it’s something far more electric.

Chris smirks, his hand trailing up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You’ve been teasing me all morning,” he says, his tone playful but laced with something darker, needier. “Every time you bent over to pick up a gift, every time you leaned forward to grab a cookie… you’ve been driving me crazy. And now…” He holds up the ribbon, letting it dangle between his fingers. “Now I think it’s my turn to have a little fun.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “And what if I say no?”

His grin widens, and there’s a glint in his eye that makes your knees weak. “You won’t.”

Before you can protest, he’s gently pushing you back onto the bed, the soft comforter cushioning your fall. The ribbon slips around your wrists, cool and smooth against your skin. You gasp as he tugs lightly, testing the knot, and then secures your hands to the headboard. The sensation is strange but thrilling, the way the ribbon bites just enough to remind you that you’re at his mercy.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice dripping with faux concern.

You tug experimentally at the restraints, feeling the ribbon hold firm. “Not bad,” you admit, trying to sound casual despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

Chris laughs, a deep, rich sound that fills the room. “Good. Because I’m just getting started.”

He kneels between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs. His touch is warm, possessive, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it travels over your body. Slowly, deliberately, he traces patterns on your skin, his fingertips skimming higher and higher until they brush against the fabric of your panties.

You bite your lip, arching into his touch, but he pulls back, smirking. “Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “I want you to beg for it.”

You groan, frustration mixing with arousal. “Chris…”

“Shh,” he interrupts, pressing a finger to your lips. “Patience.”

He drags his hands back down your thighs, his touch feather-light. Then, without warning, he brings his palm down sharply against the tender flesh of your inner thigh. The sting catches you off guard, and you yelp, your hips jerking involuntarily.

“Sensitive, huh?” he teases, his voice dark with amusement. He does it again, this time on the other side, and you squirm, the sensation mingling pain with pleasure in a way that leaves you breathless.

“Chris, please,” you whimper, your voice breaking. The ribbon tightens as you pull against it, your body straining toward him.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your hipbone. “Please what?” he asks, his breath hot against your skin.

You moan, unable to form coherent words. He takes that as encouragement, his mouth moving lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your thigh. When he reaches the juncture of your legs, he pauses, his breath ghosting over your aching core.

“Tell me,” he demands, his voice a growl.

“Eat me out,” you plead, desperate for relief. “Please, Chris, please.”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer. In one swift motion, he yanks your panties aside and buries his face between your legs, his tongue delving deep into your slick folds. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, your hands clenching into fists above your head.

He moans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His tongue flicks over your clit, fast and relentless, and you writhe beneath him, helpless under the onslaught of pleasure. Every lick, every suck, feels like it’s lighting you on fire from the inside out.

“So good,” he growls, his voice muffled against you. “You taste fucking incredible.”

His hunger is insatiable, his movements almost frenzied as he devours you like a man starved. You can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, your back arching off the bed as you hurtle toward the edge.

“Chris, I’m—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as he sucks hard on your clit, tipping you over the edge. Pleasure explodes through you, white-hot and all-consuming, and you scream his name as you come undone.

He doesn’t let up, his tongue coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body. By the time he finally pulls away, you’re a wrung-out mess, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. He climbs up your body, settling between your legs, and you can feel the hardness of him pressing against your thigh.

“Need you,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

“You’ll get me,” he promises, his eyes dark with lust. “But first…” He grabs the end of the ribbon, slowly pulling it free from the headboard. Your arms fall limply to your sides, but before you can move them, he’s gathering your wrists together and securing them once more, this time behind your back.

“Chris,” you protest weakly, though you’re too spent to put up much of a fight.

He silences you with a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he positions himself at your entrance. “Trust me,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re going to love this.”

And then he’s inside you, filling you completely in one fierce thrust. You gasp, your nails digging into your palms as he sets a brutal pace, fucking you deep and hard. Every stroke pushes you closer to the edge again, your body already wound tight from your last orgasm.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he slams into you. “So tight, so perfect.”

You can’t speak, can’t think, can only feel as he drives into you with unrelenting force. The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your combined moans echoing off the walls.

“Cum for me again,” he commands, his voice raw with need. “I want to feel you—”

The words are cut off as your body convulses around him, another wave of pleasure crashing over you. He follows close behind, his release spilling deep inside you as he collapses on top of you, his breathing ragged.

For a moment, you both lie there, tangled together in the aftermath. Then, with a wicked grin, Chris sits up, his eyes gleaming with renewed mischief. “Think we should save the rest of the ribbon for later?”

❥﹒ stray kids taglist: @minkilicious @casemoa143 @instabull @lice @amarecerasus

[amourquinn]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ; quinn hughes

( short fic )

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1k

genre : fluff, tiny bit of angst warnings : implicit mention of nudity

summary : after a tough game leaves quinn frustrated and exhausted, you comfort him in gentle ways reminding him that he deserves care just as much as he gives it

the front door creaked open, and you immediately knew it was quinn by the sound of his footsteps shuffling into the apartment. you glanced up from where you were chopping vegetables on the kitchen counter, your eyes catching sight of him as he dropped his gear bag near the entrance. his shoulders were slumped, his head hung low, and his expression was a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

“hey,” you called softly, setting the knife down and wiping your hands on a towel. “rough night?”

he didn’t respond immediately, instead letting out a long sigh as he leaned against the counter. “yeah,” he muttered finally, running a hand through his damp hair. “nothing went right tonight. i felt slow, couldn’t keep up, and i kept making stupid mistakes.” he shook his head, his jaw clenching. “i was useless out there.”

“don’t say that,” you said, walking over to him. you reached up, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “you had a bad game. it happens.”

“i know,” he replied, his voice heavy with frustration. “but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”

you could see how much the night had taken out of him—physically and mentally. his cheeks were flushed, his eyes tired, and his entire body seemed to be weighed down by the stress he was carrying.

“everything hurts,” he admitted after a moment, his voice softer now.

your heart broke for him, and without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug. “you’ve been pushing yourself too hard, quinn,” you murmured against his chest. “let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

he hesitated for a moment before nodding, his arms coming up to wrap around you. “okay.”

you pulled back just enough to look up at him. “go sit down for a few minutes. dinner’s almost ready.”

he nodded again, shuffling over to the couch and sinking into it with a groan. you quickly returned to the kitchen, finishing up the pasta and plating two servings. carrying the plates over to the coffee table, you sat beside him, nudging his shoulder gently.

“eat,” you encouraged, setting the plate in his lap.

quinn gave you a tired smile and picked up his fork, taking a few bites. “thanks,” he murmured.

you stayed quiet while he ate, not wanting to press him for more conversation until he’d had a chance to unwind a little. once he was done, you took the plates back to the kitchen and returned to find him leaning back against the couch, his eyes closed.

“come on,” you said softly, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

“where are we going?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

“to the bathroom,” you replied, leading him down the hall.

when you reached the bathroom, you flicked on the light and turned on the faucet, letting the warm water fill the tub. you grabbed the bottle of lavender-scented bubble bath, pouring some in and swirling it around with your hand.

quinn stood in the doorway, watching you with a mix of confusion and amusement. “what are you doing?”

“running you a bath,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at him. “you’re sore, you’re stressed, and you need to relax. this will help.”

“a bath?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“yes, a bath,” you said firmly, turning off the water. “now, get undressed and get in.”

he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “you’re something else, you know that?”

“only because i love you,” you teased, stepping aside to let him undress.

once he was in the tub, he let out a soft groan of relief as the warm water enveloped him. his head fell back against the edge, and his eyes fluttered shut. “okay, you were right. this is nice.”

you smiled, quickly undressing and sliding in behind him. you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him back against your chest, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“let me give you a massage,” you offered, pressing a kiss to his damp hair.

“please,” he murmured, his voice already sounding more relaxed.

you began to knead the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck, your fingers working out the knots that had formed over the course of the game. quinn let out soft sighs of contentment, his body melting into yours.

“is this okay?” you asked after a few minutes, your lips brushing against his ear.

“more than okay,” he replied, his voice low and appreciative.

you took your time, working your way down his arms and then back up to his chest. your fingers moved gently over the bruises on his arms, careful not to press too hard.

“you’re too good to me,” he said softly, turning his head slightly to look at you.

“you deserve it,” you replied, leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple. “you do so much for everyone else, quinn. let me do this for you.”

his lips curved into a small smile, and he closed his eyes again, letting himself fully relax in your arms.

after a while, the water began to cool, and you helped him out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. “come on,” you said, leading him to the bedroom.

after changing into comfortable clothes, quinn crawled into bed, his body clearly still heavy with exhaustion. you disappeared briefly to grab a glass of water for him, setting it on the nightstand before climbing in beside him.

“lie down,” you said softly, patting your lap.

he hesitated for a moment before resting his head on your thighs, letting out a content sigh as you began running your fingers through his damp hair. your other hand traced gentle patterns along his jawline, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his chin.

“this is nice,” he murmured, his voice already thick with sleep.

“you deserve nice,” you replied, your voice soft.

quinn’s breathing began to even out, and you watched as his features softened in sleep. you continued stroking his hair, your fingers gentle and soothing.

“goodnight, love,” you whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

and as quinn slept peacefully in your lap, you felt nothing but love for the man who had given you his whole heart—and who trusted you to take care of his.

© amourquinn

[dulcescorderitas]

you were sprawled out on the bed, propped up on your elbows, watching dean rifle through the duffel bag like a man on a mission. his t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the fabric pulling tight across his back every time he moved, and you couldn’t help the slow grin spreading across your face.

“what?” he asked without looking up, his voice already carrying that edge of suspicion.

“nothing,” you said, your tone far too sweet to be believable. “just… thinking.”

he straightened up, turning to pin you with one of those looks, the one that said he knew damn well you were up to something. “don’t like the sound of that. what are you plotting?”

“oh, nothing bad,” you teased, pushing yourself up and crossing your legs. the way his eyes flickered to the bare skin of your thighs didn’t go unnoticed. “i just had an idea. something fun.”

“fun,” he repeated, folding his arms over his chest, skeptical. “define fun.”

instead of answering, you reached over to the nightstand, pulling out the little bundle of satin you’d stashed there earlier. the blush-pink fabric shimmered in the light as you held it up, dangling it from your fingers. dean’s expression shifted immediately, his brows shooting up, followed by a bark of laughter.

“you’re kidding.”

“oh, come on,” you said, giving the panties a little shake. “you’ve got the confidence, the body… i bet you’d look amazing in these.”

“yeah, no,” he said, but there was a hint of pink creeping up his neck, and his gaze lingered just a little too long on the silky fabric.

“baby,” you purred, slipping off the bed and sauntering over to him. “you trust me, don’t you?”

“not when you’ve got that look in your eye,” he muttered, but he didn’t stop you when you pressed the panties into his hand. your fingers brushed his, the contact deliberate, lingering, and you saw the way his throat worked as he swallowed.

“just try them on,” you coaxed, stepping closer, your voice dropping to a murmur. “for me?”

his jaw tightened, the muscle there jumping as he considered you, the challenge in your tone, the heat in your eyes. finally, he let out a low groan, running a hand down his face. “fine. but if you laugh, we’re done.”

“scout’s honor,” you said, your grin widening as he grabbed the panties and stalked toward the bathroom.

the door clicked shut behind him, and you barely managed to stifle the giggle bubbling up, pressing a hand to your mouth. but when the door creaked open a few minutes later, the laughter died in your throat.

there he was, standing in the doorway, and holy hell. the pink satin clung to him in ways that were downright sinful, hugging his hips, the delicate fabric contrasting starkly with his rough, rugged features. your eyes dragged over him, taking in the way the panties framed him, the way they sat low on his hips, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“say something,” he growled, his voice low, rough, but his cheeks were flushed, his stance more self-conscious than you’d ever seen.

you didn’t say anything, not at first. instead, you stepped closer, your hands reaching out to trail along his sides, your fingers brushing over the silky fabric. “god, dean,” you murmured, your voice thick with heat. “you have no idea how good you look right now.”

his breath hitched, and his hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. “this is insane,” he muttered, but there was a rough edge to his voice now, his eyes darkening as they locked on yours.

“maybe,” you agreed, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “but it’s kind of turning you on, isn’t it?”

his grip on your hips tightened, and instead of answering, he dipped his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. his hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you easily, and you wrapped your legs around him, the soft press of satin against your skin making your head spin.

“you’re unbelievable,” he murmured against your lips, but the way he was walking you backward toward the bed told you he wasn’t complaining.

“your idea of unbelievable might just become your favorite thing,” you teased, dragging your nails lightly over his shoulders.

and when he laid you down, his body covering yours, the silky fabric of those panties brushing against you in all the right ways, you couldn’t help but think you’d never been more right.

lamy's note: courtesy of miss rhonda hurley

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze

[k1mbe3rly]

Min-su nsfw alphabet ?

Min su NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’s very gentle and very caring, even if he didn’t do much during sex he would still care for you, he’ll clean you up and give you some water and food if you want it

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part about you is your boobs, he loves to lay between them or on them, and rub his head into them when yall are cuddling and he’s a big fan of sucking them

His favorite body part about himself is maybe his tongue, he doesn’t typically have a favorite body part since he’s usually a bit insecure but he’ll say his mouth since you praise him how good he is with his tongue

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He honestly can’t take edging or holding back his cum, when he needs to cum he NEEDS to cum. He loves cumming inside you but obviously if your not comfortable he’ll try to pull out and if he isn’t able to be ready for a million apologies + food + shopping + morning after pill + any pill to not get you pregnant

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dirty secret is wanting you to finger his ass.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s not really experienced since he had his first time with you and especially since you do most of the work, but he doesn’t know what to do besides sit there and look pretty

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cow girl or reverse cow girl.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s not really goofy, he doesn’t crack jokes but he does do nervous laughs when yall had sex for the first time

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I’ll say he’s pretty well groomed, he doesn’t groom like a lot but a good amount maybe 2-3 weeks?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s very into the moment, he does gets off guard by your tits bouncing in front of him or the way your ass crashes against him

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t do it often, if so it’s rare and also feels like he should record for you and send it to you

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praising, slight degradation

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bed

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

His motivation is you were low top shirts and short skirts, also dirty comments randomly

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he would NEVER hurt you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s always receiving it from you, your usually always on top of him so he just kinda lays there but he does eat you out

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If he’s able to top you he would be really gentle, maybe slightly fast but never too fast

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not great at it, but he will do quickies with you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I’ll say he gets very nervous when it comes to risk and probably try to back down at first

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The most he can last is 2-3 rounds, he gets sensitive reallllyy easy

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

no toys but maybe a vibrator that you use on him

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s never unfair. he likes to give you what you want

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

If he’s really sensitive and overstimulated he’ll be LOUD. and i mean loud, he moans very loudly and whines and whimpers. but if it’s normal pace he would let out soft moans and whines

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He wouldn’t mind recording himself bouncing on dildo..

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Maybeee 6 and 7 when hard

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not that high but not that low

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

the moment he’s done taking care of you he’ll sleep with you but if your not sleeping he’s not gonna sleep

[arabella0001]

bleach men eating you out - part 2

characters: ichigo kurosaki, renji abarai, tōshirō hitsugaya, uryuu ishida, byakuya kuchiki

part 1: urahara kisuke, aizen sosuke, kenpachi zaraki, shunsui kyōraku, grimmjow jaegerjaquez

cn: oral (f receiving), praising, slight degrading, edging, bondage, rough/soft, sub/dom, fingering, overstimulation

ichigo

he isn’t the best at it, but he sure puts all his heart into it—kissing and licking without stopping, making you moan shamelessly without letting you catch a breath.

“i-ichigo,” you moan, your voice barely audible.

“mm?” he stops for a second, looking up at you, his face covered in your wetness,his eyes adoring. his hands press against your legs, keeping you still as he touches your pussy with purposeful intent.

“p-please… p-please make me…”

“of course, y/n.” he dives back in, licking you all the way down “i got you” his tongue flickering against your pussy more rapidly until you reach your orgasm.

byakuya

byakuya is the type of man who takes his time, making every touch feel planned, determined, every kiss a slow-burning tease. his lips trace a path over your body, his voice smooth like a calming breeze. “my beautiful woman…”

his tongue moves with calculated precision, worshipping you, relishing each second. in the stillness of the morning, he whispers praises you’d never expect from a man like him. “you taste so good, my love.”

your mind crumbles under the weight of his words, his mouth working you over with unshaken focus. “i won’t stop until you’re satisfied.,” he murmurs, and you know he means it.

tōshirō

he takes pleasuring you very seriously—focused, precise, determined to be the best for you.

“do you like it like that, y/n?” he asks between kisses, slurping against your cunt, teasing your clit with each flick of his tongue.

“right there?”

before you can answer, he dives in deeper, his tongue pressing into you while circling your clit with his thumb in a way that has your body trembling.

“t-tōshirō, baby… f-fuck—”

he doesn’t let up. his fingers start thrusting into your pussy, moving fast and his mouth relentless. your legs try to clamp around his head, but he pushes them apart, refusing to stop until you melt all over his mouth, his abs—anywhere you want.

renji

renji is the type of man who researches before trying something new—and he always wants to try things with you. his goal? to leave you shaking after every experiment.

“renji, c-can you…”

“wait a sec, y/n…” his brows furrow  “so… i should lick like this?” he glances at his phone, then leans in and drags his tongue over your cunt. but when he looks up—sees your parted lips, the way your chest rises and falls, the absolute wrecked expression on your face—everything stops.

“shit… sorry, baby.” and then he’s all in, no more overthinking, just feeling—the way you tremble under him, the way you fall apart so easily when he does it the way you like.

ishida

he catches you by surprise when he does it—kissing everywhere, collarbone, chest, belly—before slowly kneeling in front of you. “i-ishida?”

“shh.” his fingers part your folds “be still” and his tongue flicking against your throbbing pussy while his piercing gaze locks onto yours. “oh my g—”  the intensity is overwhelming, a sharp contrast to his usual composed self. his dominant nature remains, even when he’s the one on his knees.

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: In the quiet of the night, wrapped in Joel’s warmth, you finally let yourself feel everything—the weight of the past, the love in his touch, the promise in his arms. 

The night air is cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth beneath the heavy quilt draped over the both of you. Joel is beside you, stretched out on his back, his body bare, loose and relaxed, the way it only ever is in these rare, stolen moments. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, his arm resting lazily across your stomach, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles over your skin.

You shift slightly, turning onto your side to press yourself closer to him, your fingers brushing along the rough edge of his jaw. He tilts his chin down to look at you, a small, satisfied hum vibrating low in his chest as you trace along his collarbone, feeling the warmth of him beneath your palm.

“Comfortable?” you murmur, voice soft, teasing.

His lips quirk up at the corners, eyes half-lidded as he pulls you in tighter, letting out a slow sigh. “Mm. Feels pretty damn close to perfect.”

You smile, fingers absentmindedly following the faint scar that runs along his shoulder. He lets you touch him now. Not just like this, not just when your bodies are tangled together in the dark, but in the daylight, too. When you pass him in the kitchen. When you brush your hand against his as you walk through town. When you sit on the couch after dinner, his hand finding its way to your thigh without a second thought.

These moments—this life you’ve built together—still feel fragile sometimes, like something you could wake up from.

But then he looks at you like this, like you are his world, and you remember that it’s real.

You shift slightly, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, your lips brushing his collarbone.

He hums, amused. “That an accident or you gettin’ greedy?”

You smile against his skin. “Mm. Maybe both.”

Joel chuckles, his fingers tightening on your hip for a moment before relaxing again. “Gotta say, you’re persistent.”

You tilt your head up, grinning. “Oh, I am?”

He smirks, eyes half-lidded, still looking contently wrecked from the last hour. “Yeah, sweetheart. Kinda relentless.”

You huff, shifting onto your side, resting a hand against his chest. “Must be a character flaw.”

Joel exhales a soft laugh, his hand trailing along your back, grounding. “That right?”

“Mhm.” You let your fingers drum idly against his chest, smirking. “Pretty sure I used to piss my dad off all the time with how much I pushed things.”

Joel hums, amused. “That don’t surprise me one bit.”

You laugh, the memory coming back clearer now. “One time, I convinced him to let me drive his truck.”

Joel lifts an eyebrow. “How old?”

You wince dramatically. “Thirteen.”

He lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn. You any good?”

“Oh, I was awful.” You grin, resting your chin on his chest as you continue. “I barely made it down the dirt road outside our place before I took a turn too fast and nearly sent both of us into a ditch.”

Joel chuckles, shaking his head. “Christ.”

“My dad slammed the brakes so hard I thought we both got whiplash. He wouldn’t let me near the driver’s seat again for another two years.”

Joel smirks, running a hand down your back. “Guess that explains why you still drive like you got somethin’ to prove.”

You gasp, shoving at his chest playfully. “I do not.”

You feel the laughter vibrate through his chest, the warmth of his skin still lingering from where he’d been pressed against you. It’s easy like this. The whole world fades away, leaving only the quiet, the weight of his arm around you, the safety of his body against yours.

Then—something stirs in the back of your mind. It’s the thought of your dad, stirring something deep from the depths of your memory. The letter.

You inhale softly, shifting against him. “Oh,” you murmur, pulling back slightly. “I almost forgot—”

Joel stills for half a second, then his brow lifts, something curious and cautious flickering across his expression.

“What is it?”

You hold up your finger as you push the blankets back just enough to slide out of bed, your body immediately protesting the loss of warmth. You cross the room to where your backpack still sits near the dresser, kneeling beside it as you dig through the contents.

Your fingers brush over fabric, the grit of the water it was plunged into still clinging to the edges of things, and you frown as you pull out crumpled, water-stained pages of Joel’s letter, carefully unfolding them.

Joel shifts behind you, leaning up onto his elbows, watching you with a lazy sort of interest.

“Stealin’ my mail now?” he teases, voice rough with sleep.

You glance at him over your shoulder, rolling your eyes. “I wasn’t stealing it. I just… forgot to give it back with everything that happened.”

He hums in response, but there’s something else in his expression—a quiet sort of hesitation. Like he’s wondering if you read it. If you know what Bill wrote.

Before you can reassure him, your fingers brush over something else.

Another letter.

Your breath catches.

It’s still unopened, still tucked neatly away. Your name is on the front.

Your chest tightens. Your hands feel unsteady as you pick it up, staring at the familiar handwriting that shouldn’t be here. That you shouldn’t have missed.

“Sweetheart?” Joel’s voice is lower now, softer.

You swallow hard, blinking down at the paper, your thumb running along the rough edges of it.

You don’t remember packing this. You don’t even remember finding it.

It must have been buried deep in your bag this whole time. Hidden beneath the weight of everything else, waiting.

Joel shifts in bed, moving to sit up fully, his expression shifting from teasing to something more serious. His gaze flickers to the letter in your hands, then back to your face.

His voice is quiet when he asks, “You never…?”

You shake your head, unable to say it out loud, and you move back to the bed, handing him his back and getting under the covers again.

Joel watches you for a long moment, then moves, about to get up, to give you space, but before he can, your arm presses lightly against his.

“Please stay,” you whisper. “Read it with me?”

His expression softens instantly, and without hesitation, he nods.

You crawl back into the bed beside him, settling into the warmth of his side as he pulls the covers over both of you. His hand finds yours, steady and sure, as you unfold the letter together, letting the words of a man who raised you finally reach you.

And as the inked lines blur slightly from where the water warped the page, you take a deep breath and begin to read.

The letter trembles in your hands.

You read it again and again, but the words don’t settle, unsure of where to sit in your broken heart. They tangle together in your chest—grief, love, loss, longing.

Your father’s voice is so clear in your head, like he’s speaking from somewhere just out of reach. I was wrong about a lot of things. Especially about you. I’m proud of you. You don’t have to be alone.

Tears blur the ink on the page, warping the edges, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone. That he left. That all the things he’s saying now, all the things you needed to hear—he never said them when he was alive.

A sharp breath shudders through you, but it gets stuck halfway, trapped beneath the weight of everything.

He was proud of you. He loved you.

But he still left you.

A sound breaks from your chest before you can stop it—somewhere between a sob and a gasp. Your hands tighten around the letter, your shoulders curling inward.

Joel is there in an instant. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask questions. He just pulls you in, arms wrapping around you, pressing you into the steady warmth of his body.

That’s when you break completely.

The sobs wrack through you, sudden and overwhelming, years of holding it in, of pushing forward, of pretending you were okay crashing down all at once. You clutch onto him, fisting your hands into his skin, like you need him to hold you together.

“He—he was proud of me,” you gasp against his chest, your breath uneven, broken. “He—he said—”

Joel hushes you gently, his hand smoothing over the back of your head. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick, aching for you. “I know.”

You shake your head against him, your hands gripping at his back. “But—he still left. He still—they still made that choice.”

Joel exhales slowly, his hold on you tighter, firmer. “I know,” he says again, his lips brushing against your temple, his touch grounding, real. “But you weren’t a choice, baby. He loved you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the truth of it too big, too much. You let out another broken sob, burying yourself into him, into the only solid thing you have left.

And he lets you. For what feels like forever, he just holds you—no rushing, no telling you to stop, just letting you fall apart inside the safety of his arms. His hands move up and down your back, his lips pressing against the side of your head, into your hair, whispering nothing but warmth.

Eventually, the sobs fade into slow, hiccuping breaths. Your body is still shaking, but you’re here. The weight is still there, but so is Joel.

You sniffle, rubbing your face against his chest, trying to pull yourself together.

Joel shifts, cupping your face in both hands, his thumbs wiping away the damp trails of tears on your cheeks. He tilts your head up, his eyes soft but so damn fierce, like he’s looking right through you, like he’s trying to make sure you feel every word before he says them.

“I got you,” he murmurs. “You hear me, sweetheart? I got you. You ain’t alone.”

A fresh wave of tears pricks at your eyes, but you nod, because you believe him.

And then he’s kissing you, not on the mouth, but instead, he kisses your forehead first, lingering there like he’s pressing the promise into your skin. Then your temple. Then your cheek. Your nose. Everywhere he can reach, slow and deliberate.

By the time he pulls back, you’re breathless. Shattered in a way that feels less like breaking, and more like being glued back together with every press of his lips.

"I got you," Joel murmurs, his hands cradling your face, his thumbs wiping away the damp trails of tears on your cheeks. He tilts your head up, forcing you to see him, to hear him.

"You hear me, sweetheart?" His voice is steady, unshakable. It’s a vow. "I got you. You ain’t alone. You ain’t ever gonna be alone again."

The weight of it slams into you, a fresh sob breaking loose from your throat. It’s too much. It’s everything you’ve ever needed to hear, everything you’ve spent your whole life pretending you didn’t want.

And it’s Joel. The only man you’ve ever known like this, the only man you’ve ever wanted and needed and craved with every fiber of your being.

Your fingers clutch at his arms, trying to ground yourself, but he’s already anchoring you. His lips continue to press into your skin, everywhere around your face until he places on gentle brush against your lips like he’s memorizing the shape of you, like he needs you to feel it.

When he pulls back, his hands still framing your face, his breath still warm against your lips, he whispers—so soft, so certain:

"I love you."

The End.

Hey, you beautiful, amazing people.

I don’t even know where to start, but thank you. Seriously. From the bottom of my heart: to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, screamed in the tags, sent me messages, or just silently followed along—you made this story so much more than I ever imagined.

Every comment, every reaction, every little freak-out over a scene made my day (and honestly fueled me to keep going). The way you connected with this story, these characters—it means everything. Writing this was one thing, but experiencing it with all of you? That was the best part.

So, to everyone who stuck with me, whether from the beginning or just recently—thank you for being here. Thank you for caring. Thank you for making this so special.

I would love to hear your thoughts! Please comment or message me any of your thoughts— the good the bad the ugly ❤️

I love you all. Truly.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Safe Haven

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Insomniac!Reader (Prison Era)

Warnings: Mentions of insomnia, exhaustion, mild language, lots of fluff & comfort

Author’s Note: I absolutely love writing for my baby boy soft, protective Daryl, and I’ve missed my boy a lot so here we are, from your fellow insomniac💜

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The nights before the prison had been hell.

You could still remember them in vivid, suffocating detail—the exhaustion, the aching pull of sleeplessness gnawing at your body, the way your mind refused to quiet no matter how tired you were.

Back at the camp near Atlanta, when the group was still smaller, you'd spent more nights awake than asleep. The ground had been too hard, the air too open, every shift of the wind sending your nerves into overdrive. Every snap of a twig, every rustling bush, every distant groan of the dead kept you on edge. Even when you did doze off, it was never real sleep—just restless minutes of slipping in and out, waking with a racing heart and the crushing weight of exhaustion pressing down on you.

The farm had been better—safer—but even then, the same cycle continued. You had tried everything: closing your eyes and counting, focusing on the sounds of nature, forcing yourself to stay still and breathe slow. But it never worked. No matter how exhausted you were, sleep never came easy. The others never knew just how bad it was. You’d learned how to hide it, how to function on empty, how to smile when your body ached from the inside out.

But then came the prison. And then came him.

Daryl had been there from the beginning, gruff and guarded, always lingering on the outskirts. At first, you weren’t sure where you stood with him, but over time, something shifted. It was in the way he started looking for you after runs, in the way he always made sure you had enough food, in the way he silently handed you his blanket on the colder nights without a word. He noticed things that others didn’t. And eventually, he noticed this, too.

The first time it happened—when you finally let yourself go to him after yet another sleepless night—you’d hesitated. You had stood outside your cell, heart pounding as you approached where he slept, feeling foolish for even considering it. Letting your feet guide you to Daryl’s perch, Daryl had made his bed up there instead of taking a cell like everyone else. He preferred open space, somewhere he could see everything, somewhere he didn’t feel caged in. When you whispered his name, he didn’t snap at you, didn’t question why you were there. He had only lifted the blanket and grunted, "C’mon, then."

And just like that, everything changed.

——

Tonight was no different.

You sat up in your cot, staring at the darkened ceiling of your cell, feeling the familiar weight of exhaustion pressing down on you. The prison was quiet—still. Somewhere in the distance, a walker groaned beyond the fences, but inside, everything was calm.

And yet, sleep wouldn’t come.

You exhaled softly, swinging your legs over the side of the cot and rubbing at your tired eyes. You didn’t even hesitate this time as you stood and made your way toward the perch. You knew where you needed to be.

Daryl’s mattress was up high, tucked into a corner of the metal platform where he could see the whole room below. He had a rifle leaned up nearby, always ready, always alert even in sleep. When you climbed up and reached his space, you hesitated for just a moment before whispering, “Daryl?”

A low grunt answered first, then a rustling of fabric as he shifted. His voice, rough with sleep, followed. “Again?”

"Yeah."

Even in the dim light, you could see the way he blinked at you, drowsy but not surprised. Without a word, he lifted the blanket, making space for you.

Relief flooded your chest as you crawled onto the mattress beside him, slipping beneath the blanket. The perch wasn’t the widest space, which meant you had no choice but to press up against him. Not that you minded.

Daryl let out a slow breath, his arm coming around your waist, securing you against him like it was second nature. The warmth of his body immediately sank into yours, chasing away the tension in your muscles.

"Y’know you ain’t gotta keep askin’," he muttered, voice thick with sleep. "Told ya before, just come to me."

"I don’t wanna wake you," you murmured against his collarbone, your forehead resting lightly against his chest.

Daryl let out a small, tired huff. "Rather you wake me up than sit in that damn cell all night sufferin’." His fingers traced slow, absentminded circles against your back. "Ain’t right, you not sleepin’ like that."

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. No one had ever cared like this before—no one had ever noticed. You had spent so many years dealing with it on your own, convincing yourself it was just the way things were. But Daryl saw you. And somehow, somehow, being next to him made it better.

"I only ever sleep when I’m with you."

Daryl stilled at that, his grip unconsciously tightening around you. For a second, he didn’t say anything, like he was letting the words settle in his mind. Then—

A quiet hum. A slow exhale. Then, soft lips pressing against the top of your head in a fleeting but deliberate kiss.

"Ain’t gonna let you go without sleep, then. Y’need me, I’m here."

The words settled deep in your chest, warm and steady. The slow rise and fall of his breathing, the quiet, unspoken promise of I got you—it was all you needed.

And for the first time that night—like so many nights before—you finally closed your eyes, and let sleep take you.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[sillygoose067]

A Masked Promise

Ch. 37

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x Reader

The infirmary felt suffocating. Not because of the sterile scent or the quiet hum of the machines, but because of him. Because Dick hadn’t moved from your bedside since you woke up, hadn’t let go of you, hadn’t even thought to take care of himself.

The dark circles under his eyes were deeper now, his exhaustion evident in every slow blink, every sluggish movement. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days—like the weight of the world had settled onto his shoulders and refused to let go, like Atlas doomed to carry the heavens without rest, his burden as endless as his guilt.

“Gray…” you murmured, your voice still rough from disuse. Your fingers brushed over the back of his hand, drawing his attention. “You need to get some sleep.”

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head as if that was the most ridiculous thing you could have suggested. “I’m fine.”

“You look like hell,” you countered, watching as his lips pressed into a thin line. “And this bed sucks.” You shifted against the stiff mattress, wincing slightly to sell your point. “I feel gross. I need a shower.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering across his face. “You’re still weak.”

“I’ll be fine.”

His response was immediate, firm. “You’re not walking.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving, arms sliding under you with ease. Your breath hitched as he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, his warmth immediately surrounding you.

“Gray—”

“I said you’re not walking,” he murmured, voice unwavering.

You exhaled, knowing better than to argue with him when he was like this. Instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him carry you through the hallways to his quarters—the same place you’d been staying with him. The tension in his body was palpable, his grip on you firm but gentle, like he was afraid you’d slip away again.

You tried to lighten the mood. “So… are you planning to carry me into the shower too?”

His gaze flicked down to you, unimpressed. "I'm still mad at you, you know that, right?"

Inside his quarters, he set you down carefully on the edge of the bed, hovering like a worried mother hen as you pushed yourself up. The moment you were steady, he hesitated, as if torn between giving you space and staying close. You squeezed his arm before making your way to the bathroom, letting him know you were okay.

The warm water helped wash away the remnants of blood, battle, the grime, the sweat, the exhaustion clinging to your skin. By the time you stepped out, towel-drying your hair, you felt marginally better. You slipped into one of his shirts—soft, oversized, smelling like him—and returned to the bedroom to find him sitting on the bed, a fresh bottle in his hands.

You frowned. “Seriously?”

His grip tightened slightly around the bottle, but he didn’t meet your eyes. “Just one.”

“No,” you said firmly, walking over and plucking it from his hands before he could argue. “You need sleep, not this.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t resist as you set the bottle aside and nudged him toward the pillows. He let out a heavy breath, rubbing a hand over his face before finally relenting, settling into bed. You climbed in beside him, shifting closer until your bodies aligned, your head tucked under his chin.

The moment you did, his arms locked around you, pulling you against him as if afraid you’d disappear. His face pressed into your hair, his breathing slow but uneven, his hold unyielding. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, his presence, his scent.

“Sleep,” you murmured against his chest.

He tensed slightly, then exhaled, his fingers tracing slow patterns against your back. “I can’t.”

You pulled back slightly to look up at him. His gaze was distant, haunted.

“Every time I close my eyes,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, “I see it. You died. The way your eyes—” His breath hitched, and he shook his head, swallowing hard. “I lost you.”

His voice was so raw, so broken, that it cracked something inside you. Without hesitation, you shifted, moving above him, gently guiding his head against your chest, your arms wrapping around him as he had done for you before. He didn’t resist—just let himself sink into you, his body finally releasing some of the tension it had been holding. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his ear seemed to soothe him, grounding him in something real, something alive.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. “I was scared too,” you admitted softly. “Watching you fight Slade, knowing there was nothing I could do… I couldn’t imagine a world without you, Gray. Without Richard Grayson. Without Nightwing.”

His arms tightened around your waist.

“I’m expendable,” you continued, your voice steady but gentle. “But you’re not. More lives would have been lost if—”

“Stop.” His voice was muffled against you, but firm. He shifted, burrowing further against you, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not expendable. You’re—” He exhaled shakily. “I can’t imagine a world without you either.”

The room was quiet after that, save for the steady rhythm of your breathing. You continued running your fingers through his hair, grounding both of you in the moment. His body slowly relaxed beneath you, exhaustion creeping in.

And then, as if the thought had been weighing on you all night, you spoke. “I’m ready.”

A low hum vibrated against your skin as he shifted slightly, not quite lifting his head. “Mmm?”

“To go all the way,” you clarified. "You know...Sex."

That got his attention. He pulled back just enough to squint up at you, sleep-heavy but alert. “You’re only saying that because you’re drained right now.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I’m saying that because I almost died.” He winced. “And it put things into perspective.”

His gaze softened, his fingers brushing slow, aimless patterns over your ribs. “I get that,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. “And believe me, I feel the same. But I don’t want you making this choice because of fear.”

“It’s not fear,” you insisted. “It’s clarity.”

He hummed again, skeptical but not dismissive. His fingers trailed just beneath the hem of his shirt draped over you, warm against your skin. “Still… sleep on it,” he said, voice softer now, heavier. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sighed, about to argue again, but he silenced you with a kiss—first to your forehead, then your nose, then finally, your lips. It was soft, lingering, filled with quiet understanding.

“Sleep,” he murmured against you, and this time, it was an order.

He shifted, tucking himself against you once more, his head beneath your chin, his arms holding you close.

———————————————————————————-

TAGLIST:

@mybones537 @thereeallink @ziziriaa-blog

[skzdelf]

(물 분수) Water Fountain | Lee Felix

.ᐟPAIRING: Fairy!Felix x f!reader

.ᐟSYNOPSIS: It was an ordinary summer day when, by the water fountain, you met a blonde guy who would captivate you with his charming personality and special secrets.

.ᐟWC: 5.9k (5927)

You Met Him by the Water Fountain

It was a warm summer day when you found yourself wandering through the forest. That’s when you saw him—right next to your usual spot for relaxing. He was lying on his side on the soft grass, surrounded by small wildflowers, his back resting against the concrete fountain.

His blonde hair gleamed under the morning sun. You had never seen him before. In fact, you had never seen anyone around this part of the forest. Not because it was deep or dark—on the contrary, it was a beautiful, serene place—but people simply chose to ignore these areas, preferring to stay in the city.

You approached him slowly, careful not to make a sound as your steps pressed against the ground. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

What was this boy doing out here? Had he spent the night outside?

A few strands of his golden hair rested over his face. You crouched beside him, observing his features more closely.

His face was injured. A cut stretched across the bridge of his nose, holding traces of dried blood. Unlike the pale scars on his lips, which seemed to have been there far longer than you would have liked to imagine.

His cheeks and nose were dusted with beautiful freckles—tiny brown stars that told their own story, contrasting with the wounds on his face. You wondered what kind of life someone like him must have lived. He had an angelic, harmless aura, yet the marks on his skin painted a different picture. It was as if life had tested his strength, leaving scars as reminders of every battle.

You hesitated before letting your trembling fingers lightly trace the edge of his wound, carefully wiping away the dried blood. A soft whimper escaped his lips, followed by a barely audible murmur. You weren’t sure if he was awake or if his body was simply reacting to the touch.

"Shh, it’s okay" you whispered as gently as possible, hoping to keep him in his slumber. It must have been a rough night for the golden boy. You carefully brushed aside the strands of hair that had fallen over his face, making sure that if a breeze passed through, it wouldn’t tickle him awake.

Deciding to leave him alone for a little while, you stood up with a plan—to return to your cabin, grab a first aid kit, and maybe bring some food for when he woke up.

Once you were far enough from where he lay, you quickened your pace. You didn’t care if your boots made noise against the dry grass patches, a result of the lack of rain in the area. You just wanted to hurry back before he disappeared.

You rushed into your small, cozy home as if a gust of wind had pushed you forward. Without hesitation, you ran straight to the bathroom, grabbing bandages, hydrogen peroxide, and some cotton pads.

Gathering everything in your hands, you placed the items in a small wicker basket—the same one you usually used for collecting wild berries to make homemade jam.

As you rummaged through your fridge and pantry for food, the only thing you could find was a box of chocolate chip cookies. With a shrug, you grabbed it and added it to the basket. You just hoped he wasn’t allergic to chocolate.

With the basket in hand, you rushed out of your house like a storm, stumbling over your own feet on the way back. When you finally reached the fountain, you saw the blonde boy awake, his fingers delicately playing with the water, moving his hand back and forth in a soothing motion.

You approached quietly, and the moment he caught sight of you, he stopped, lifting his head. His hazel eyes locked onto you.

His expression was one of surprise—his eyes slightly wider than usual, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to find him here. But you had.

You circled the fountain carefully, taking slow, measured steps. Each of your movements made him shift back ever so slightly, but his gaze never wavered. It was as if he was trying to read your intentions. His wet, trembling hands rested on the edge of the fountain, and though his posture seemed defensive, there was something in his eyes—a mix of curiosity and vulnerability. He didn’t trust you, but he also didn’t seem willing to run away.

Stopping a few steps away from him, you spoke softly, breaking the silence with a voice so quiet it nearly got lost in the morning breeze.

"I just want to help."

The boy furrowed his brows slightly. His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you with caution, like a wary animal deciding whether the stranger before it was a threat or a refuge.

"I brought cookies" you added, kneeling on the grass as you placed the basket beside you. Carefully, you pulled out the box of cookies and held it up for him to see.

"I really hope you’re not allergic to chocolate" you joked, letting out a small laugh as you glanced up at him.

Something in his eyes shifted at the mention of food. You extended the box toward him, and his gaze flickered between you and the package a few times before he cautiously reached out to take it with his scratched-up hands.

His grip was delicate, almost hesitant, as if afraid the box might vanish if he held it too tightly. For a moment, he simply stared at it, his fingers tracing the edges of the cardboard while his lips pressed into a tight line.

"You don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to. I promise there’s nothing weird in them" you assured him gently, sensing that the silence between you was growing heavy.

Finally, he lifted his gaze, hazel eyes now shining with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

It was the first time you heard his voice—a deep, raspy sound, as if even forming those words had taken more effort than it should have.

"Because I think you need help" you answered honestly. "And I’m not leaving until you’re okay."

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your words. After a moment, he let out a small sigh and opened the box. The crinkle of the plastic wrapping broke the silence, and for the first time, a faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips.

He took a cookie and bit into it, closing his eyes briefly as he chewed, like the taste had unlocked a distant memory. You didn’t say anything, letting him enjoy the moment.

When he finished, he looked at you again. This time, there was a different kind of brightness in his eyes—not quite happiness, but as if someone had sprinkled tiny specks of glitter into them.

"Thank you" he murmured, his voice carrying a newfound confidence.

"You’re welcome" you replied with a small smile. "What’s your name?"

"Felix" he said, offering a closed-lip smile that made his face radiate warmth. He no longer looked afraid. It was as if you had broken past his barriers and earned his trust.

"You know, I actually love chocolate. I bake brownies all the time back home! I’ll bring you some next time!" he exclaimed, popping another cookie into his mouth, crumbs falling onto his clothes, hands, and the corners of his lips.

What was with this guy? Just a moment ago, he had been so cautious, and now he was yapping excitedly. Not that you minded, but it was… unexpected.

"You do know your nose is injured, right?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t seem even remotely concerned about the wound on his face.

Felix let out a soft laugh, lowering his gaze to the water as his fingers absentmindedly brushed over the scabs on his hand.

"It’s nothing. I’ve had worse" he muttered, as if trying to downplay it.

"Worse?" you questioned, frowning.

He gave a small, lopsided smile. "Let’s just say I’m a little clumsy sometimes."

You weren’t convinced, but you didn’t push further. Instead, you lifted the first aid kit from your basket.

"I can treat your wound if you let me."

"Maybe some other time" he said, looking at you with a mix of gratitude and something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

Some other time? Did that mean he planned on getting hurt again? Or did it mean… he planned on seeing you again?

The next few minutes passed in a lighter conversation. Félix avoided your more direct questions about his wounds, but he didn’t seem annoyed—just reserved. Finally, he stood up to say goodbye with a slight bow, giving you one last warm smile before disappearing into the depths of the forest.

Days passed without any news or visits from the golden boy. Your days went on as usual—you kept gathering fruits to make jam and selling them in town. However, you also started spending more time near the fountain, hoping to see the boy again.

As time went by, nothing seemed out of the ordinary until one afternoon, as you stepped out of your house for a morning walk, you found a white rabbit on the path right in front of your door.

Its shiny black eyes, like two marbles, were fixed on you. Its little nose twitched constantly as if trying to catch your scent. With fur as white as snow, it stood out even more against the landscape. It was strange to find a rabbit like this in broad daylight, so close to a human dwelling.

You crouched down slowly, trying not to scare it. “Hey, little one... What are you doing here?”

But before you could touch it, the rabbit jumped back and darted away down the path. You watched it disappear into the bushes and trees.

What you didn’t know was that, hidden among the trees a few meters away, Félix was watching the scene with a triumphant smile. He had sent the rabbit—one of his most loyal friends—to find your home. His plan had worked. Now he knew where you lived, where to find you, and he had the perfect excuse to see you again.

A few days after your encounter with the small rabbit, while you were watering the plants in your front garden, a familiar shadow appeared on the path.

When you turned around, you saw Félix approaching with a more relaxed smile than the last time you had seen him. His wounds were completely healed, without a single scar, as if they had disappeared by magic.

"Hey! I hope it's not weird that I just showed up like this... I thought we could spend some time together. What do you think? I brought brownies."

There was something in his tone—a mix of nervousness and genuine excitement—that made you smile without hesitation.

"Of course! I would never say no to brownies."

It was strange that, after not seeing him for a while, he suddenly appeared at your doorstep, but the truth was that you were really happy to see him. So, at that moment, nothing else mattered, and you welcomed him into your cozy home.

Upon entering, the dark, polished wooden walls, full of irregular grain patterns, wrapped you both in a peaceful atmosphere. A faint scent of pine lingered in the air, blending with the smell of—

In the center of the main room, a rough stone fireplace dominated the space, with a handwoven rug in front of it, worn by time but still vibrant in color.

A pair of fabric-covered armchairs, a sofa adorned with cushions of various designs, and a low wooden table bearing marks of use completed the setting.

Bookshelves packed with books and small ornaments filled one of the walls, while another housed small windows with white linen curtains that let in the daylight. The windows provided views of the forest, making it feel as though the cabin and nature were one.

The kitchen, barely separated from the rest of the room by a rustic wooden counter, had open shelves filled with glass jars of spices and a few boxes of cookies—the same ones you had given Félix that day. A teapot rested on an old stove, ready to brew some tea or coffee.

The conversation with Félix was lively and warm. He seemed much more open to talking about himself this time. Though he was quite the talker, he was also an excellent listener. Every time you answered one of his questions, he paid close attention, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand, his large eyes fixed on you.

He sat on one of the barstools while you moved around the kitchen, making cinnamon and honey tea for him and lemon tea for yourself. As the water boiled and Félix talked about the different types of birds that lived in the forest, you turned your back to him and placed some cookies and the brownies he had brought on a small porcelain plate with a delicate floral design along the edges.

Félix, leaning against the counter, seemed lost in thought for a moment, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the napkin you had left on the table, folding it into an origami figure.

"Do you like cooking?" he suddenly asked, interrupting his previous rambling, his voice soft but curious as he looked at you with genuine interest.

"I do, but I’m not very good at it" you answered with a light smile, turning toward him as you set the plate down in front of him. "But I think food always tastes better when it's shared, don’t you think?"

Félix let out a small laugh, his face lighting up with a warm expression.

"You're right. The truth is, I don’t get to share meals like this very often. At home, it’s just me" he confessed, carefully picking up one of the cookies.

You brought over the cups of hot tea and sat down beside him.

"Do you live far from here?" you asked, taking one of his brownies. In the town, most people knew each other, and you were certain he wasn’t from there—you had never seen him before that day at the fountain.

"Kinda" he replied with his mouth full, enjoying the taste of vanilla and chocolate chips just as he had that first time at the fountain. A satisfied expression spread across his face.

"Kinda?" you repeated, holding the brownie near your mouth.

"Kinda" Félix repeated, taking a moment to chew his cookie before continuing. "I live in a place that doesn't appear on maps."

His words immediately caught your attention, but he didn’t seem to notice, as his gaze remained fixed on his steaming cup of tea.

"It’s... hard to describe" he added, with a smile that seemed to hide secrets. "It’s surrounded by forests, with trees so tall they look like they’re touching the sky. The city is built on their trunks and connected by wooden hanging bridges."

You frowned slightly, trying to place that location in your mind. None of the nearby villages were that remote, nor did they have anything like the floating city he described.

"That doesn’t sound like anywhere around here" you commented, intrigued.

"That’s because it isn’t" Félix replied, looking up to meet your gaze. His eyes seemed to shimmer with something more than simple excitement—there was a spark in them you couldn’t quite explain.

"It’s a special place, almost like it’s hidden from the rest of the world. It’s peaceful… like this cabin. I’d love to take you there someday."

Curiosity started to grow inside you, but Félix skillfully changed the subject, making you suspect he didn’t want to elaborate any further.

"But you must know this town better than anyone, right? Tell me more about it" he said, flashing you a bright smile.

The afternoon passed with laughter and friendly conversations. The topic of where he lived never came up again, but you learned many things about him—how he loved baking, especially brownies, how his favorite color was blue, how much he adored animals, and how he sometimes felt like he had a special connection with them.

You laughed at how serious he was when he said that.

"I’m being serious! Don’t laugh at me!" he said, pretending to be offended, playfully nudging your shoulder. His tone only made you laugh even more, and your laughter became contagious.

"I’ll show you!" he declared, standing up suddenly and heading toward your front door.

"Félix! What are you doing?! Come back here!" you called, running after him.

You grabbed onto his black leather vest to stop him from getting too far. He turned and looked at your grip, making you think you had made him uncomfortable, so you slowly let go. But then, he took your hand in his and laced your fingers together, pulling you along beside him.

The warmth of his hand, its surprising softness—there were no rough scars like the ones you had seen days ago by the fountain—sent a shiver up your spine.

Your face heated up at the unexpected act of your… new friend? He continued walking deeper into the forest, pulling you along since you were momentarily entranced, staring at your intertwined hands.

At a specific moment, he suddenly stopped, causing you to collide with his back due to the abrupt halt. Snapping out of your daze, he let go of your hand, and you took in the scene around you. You were now in a deep part of the forest, where only the scarce light of the afternoon illuminated your surroundings. The trees formed a natural dome, allowing only thin golden rays to dance between the leaves. The sound of birds began to fade, giving way to the murmuring wind. The air carried a faint scent of damp earth and wildflowers.

"What are we doing here, Felix? Let’s go back to my house, it's getting dark" you told the blond boy while glancing around. Though you often roamed the forest, you couldn’t recognize this place, and that made you nervous. The fear of getting lost and never being found again constantly lingered in your mind.

"It's okay, just watch" his voice came out as a low murmur, as if he were trying to make as little noise as possible. But why? Was there some kind of danger here?

Suddenly, Felix crouched down, placing one of his bare knees on the ground covered in dry leaves. It would probably get dirty and scratched by the small twigs, but he didn’t seem to care.

He remained like that for a few moments, his eyes closed as if he were resting or reconnecting with the nature around him. Then, a faint rustling sound echoed through the trees, putting you on alert. You instinctively looked in the direction of the noise, trying to hide behind Felix’s crouched figure as much as possible.

The sound came again, but softer this time. You held your breath, cautiously watching the bushes, waiting for something to emerge from the dense foliage. And then you saw it. Instead of a threat, what appeared was a small creature with white fur, except for the light brown markings that outlined its ears and surrounded its eyes. The rabbit moved calmly, its tiny nose twitching rapidly as if trying to catch Felix’s scent.

It approached without fear, moving nimbly until it was just a few feet away from him. Felix slowly opened his eyes and lowered his gaze to the small creature, observing it intently. He stretched out his ring-adorned hand in its direction.

That tiny ball of white fur looked just like—if not the same as—the one that had visited your house a few days ago, right before Felix's sudden appearance. Could it really be just a coincidence… or was it something more?

You expected the animal to retreat, to jump back like any wild creature would upon sensing a human's presence. But it didn’t.

The rabbit tilted its head slightly, and after a brief hesitation, stepped forward with complete trust. Its small pink nose brushed against Felix’s fingers before rubbing its head against them. Then, without a hint of fear, it settled right within his reach, allowing him to pet it.

Your eyes widened at the strange sight.

Felix gently ran his hand over the rabbit’s back. His fingers sank into its soft fur, and instead of pulling away, the creature seemed to enjoy it, half-closing its eyes in contentment.

"How…?" you murmured, unable to help yourself, your gaze shifting between Felix and the rabbit.

Felix let out a low chuckle, turning to look at you with serene eyes.

"I told you, didn’t I? I’ve always felt a special connection with animals" he said softly while continuing to stroke the furry creature.

It was true. You remembered him mentioning it before, but you had taken it as a simple joke. It was one thing for someone to say they liked animals or that they weren’t afraid of them, but this… it was as if they truly understood each other. As if the rabbit knew exactly who Felix was and accepted him without hesitation.

It was strange. Incredibly strange.

"Come, get closer" Felix said cheerfully, extending his other hand toward you, inviting you to kneel beside him. Uncertainty showed on your face, but you took his hand anyway, allowing him to gently pull you down until both of your knees rested on the ground beside him.

"She's a friend. You can trust her" Felix spoke this time to the little rabbit, now petting the fur around its neck. To your absolute astonishment, the rabbit seemed to understand Felix’s words perfectly. It turned its little head in your direction, its large dark eyes locking onto yours, as if analyzing you.

Felix, still stroking the animal, glanced at you out of the corner of his eye with a gentle smile.

"Try it. I’ll guide your hand slowly, okay?" he encouraged you. You nodded, knowing that with Felix’s guidance, the chances of startling the animal were much lower.

His fingers were warm and steady. With care, he led your hand toward the small creature, placing it right over his own.

"Like this… slowly" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper near your ear. A shiver ran down your spine—not from fear, but from the strange sensation of Felix’s closeness and the mysterious aura surrounding you both.

Under his guidance, your fingers brushed against the rabbit’s soft fur. The creature didn’t flinch. Instead, it tilted its head slightly toward your touch, allowing you to pet it.

This wasn’t normal. None of it was.

"Felix… why do animals trust you so much?" you whispered, shifting your gaze from the defenseless animal to your companion’s face—only to realize his face was much closer than you had expected.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers still covered yours, guiding them in gentle strokes over the rabbit’s fur, but you noticed a slight tremor in his grip. Then, with a mysterious glint in his eyes, he gave you a small smile.

"Maybe… it’s because they truly understand me," Felix confessed, lifting his gaze from the animal and locking eyes with yours.

He was hiding something from you. That much was clear now. He had a supernatural connection with animals, but you couldn’t quite grasp how or why.

"One day, I’ll explain everything to you in detail. I promise. I just… need some time" Felix admitted, reading the doubt in your expression. His words wrapped both of you in an aura of secrets.

After that situation with the animal, Felix bid it farewell, and the rabbit hopped away cheerfully, returning to the place where it had appeared. Felix guided you back to your house without any trouble, as if he knew the forest like the back of his hand. The sky had already darkened, illuminated only by the moon and its companions, the stars. So, you decided to invite Felix to stay for dinner and, if necessary, to sleep over, since, as he had mentioned, his home was quite far from where you were.

Felix, more than happy, accepted your invitation and insisted multiple times on cooking dinner. It seemed he had no intention of stopping until you agreed, which you did reluctantly, since he was the guest, and it wasn’t supposed to be his responsibility to cook. Upon hearing your acceptance, he smiled broadly, nodded, and quickly made his way to the kitchen.

While pulling out pots and ingredients from your cabinets, he told you he would prepare a special dish from his village called "Lightleaf Stew" a simple stew but with a special ingredient from his homeland.

"And how do you plan on getting that ingredient if we’re not in your homeland?" you asked incredulously, your voice carrying as you watched him move back and forth across your kitchen from your spot on the sofa.

"I have it right here" Felix turned towards you, and from the pocket of his vest, he pulled out two leaves. Their shape and size were like bay leaves, but what stood out were their incredible blue color. There was no place on Earth where a tree with leaves of such a vibrant color existed.

"What is that, Felix? It could be poisonous! Look at the color of that!" you said with a tone of concern and intrigue. You had never seen anything like it, and it didn’t seem at all edible.

You got up from your seat and walked over to him, standing beside him in front of your oven, trying to take the leaves from his hands to inspect them more closely.

"I promise you, they’re not poisonous" Felix said with a laugh, pulling his hand away from yours so you wouldn’t take the leaves. He quickly dropped them into the pot where he was preparing the stew and covered it.

Saying the stew was delicious was an understatement—it was the best food you’d had in years. The flavors dissolved in your mouth, creating an addictive explosion of taste. The herb Felix had added gave the stew an exquisite smoky flavor that highlighted its full potential. You could say those flavors almost transported you to a time long past.

After dinner, during which you exchanged a few words and Felix seemed very happy that you enjoyed his cooking, you decided to wash the dishes by hand while Felix settled on the living room sofa, where he would spend the night.

As the water ran, you couldn’t help but glance at Felix out of the corner of your eye. He had settled into the sofa with a relaxed expression, his eyes scanning the room, observing every detail.

"You don’t have to do that" he suddenly commented, his usual tone, soft but filled with contained energy.

"Wash the dishes?" you asked, not stopping to rinse one of the utensils.

"Yeah. It’s not fair that you’re doing everything" Felix tilted his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa, and closed his eyes in the process.

"You cooked, the least I can do is this" you said with a small laugh, refocusing on your task.

Felix tilted his head and smiled, but didn’t insist further on the matter.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. When you finished and turned toward the living room, walking over to Felix, who had a relaxed expression on his face, enjoying the warm and friendly atmosphere, he spoke.

"I think I feel more comfortable here than I expected" the long-haired blonde admitted, now opening his eyes and turning his head in your direction.

Something in the way he said it, how his gaze softened for a moment before his eyes lit up again with their usual spark, caught your attention. Felix shifted in his seat, stretching his limbs, a tired yawn escaping his lips.

"I’m going to sleep. If you need anything… my room is at the end of the small hall, to the right" you told Felix with a small, friendly smile on your face.

Felix nodded, adjusting himself more comfortably on the sofa.

"I’ll bring you a blanket, it looks like it’s going to rain and get colder" you told Felix, glancing out the small window in the kitchen. The sky had suddenly turned gray, and you could feel the wind hitting the glass.

"Thanks, I appreciate it" Felix responded, now lying down on the sofa, grabbing a cushion and placing it under his head.

Not wanting Felix to get cold, you walked to a storage cabinet. You returned and draped the blanket over his body, covering him completely except for his head.

"Good night, Y/N" he murmured in a sleepy voice, his eyes already closed, ready to rest.

"Good night, Felix" you replied, walking down the hall. However, something inside you told you that tonight, you wouldn’t sleep peacefully.

Your sleep was interrupted by the sound of thunder striking nearby, jolting you awake with your heart racing against your chest. You shifted between your blankets, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it seemed impossible, as if the universe was making it difficult for you to fall back asleep. Then, suddenly, you heard soft, persistent knocks on your wooden door—almost desperate.

You reluctantly left the warmth of your blankets, approaching the door cautiously. Those knocks were unusual, and they even frightened you a little.

With your heart still pounding, you carefully turned the doorknob and opened the door just enough to peek out. On the other side, in the dimly lit hallway, stood Felix. His messy hair indicated he had woken up in a hurry, but it wasn’t what stood out the most.

In his arms, a small rabbit trembled against his chest, completely soaked by the rain. Its white fur was matted and dripping water onto the wooden floor and Felix's arms, but what caught your attention most were its ears and the outline of its eyes, a very light brown. This was undoubtedly the same rabbit from earlier.

Felix looked at you with pleading eyes.

"The little one woke me up, he was scratching at the entrance door" he explained in a quiet voice, trying not to scare the trembling animal any more.

You blinked, stunned—what was a rabbit doing scratching at your door?

"But… How did it get here? Rabbits don’t usually approach human houses like this. They always run away." Never in the time you had lived in this village or this house had a rabbit come anywhere near, let alone scratch your door.

"They don’t have to run away from me" Felix replied, his lips curling slightly as he lowered his gaze to the rabbit, gently stroking its wet head.

You furrowed your brow at him, tearing your gaze from the animal and focusing on Felix. Doubts filled your mind, surely showing on your face.

"What does that mean?" you asked, your words coming out more like a statement than a question. At first, everything had seemed like jokes or coincidences, but this was too much. You didn’t understand, and you didn’t like being stuck in this invisible limbo between total doubt and distrust of a guy who had been nothing but kind from the start.

Felix took a deep breath, as if preparing the right words.

"It means… that I’m not exactly what you think. I… I can really talk to them." Felix admitted, closing his eyes cautiously, almost as if he were waiting for your reaction to be a shout, a slap, or some other violent response. But it wasn’t. You were stunned, not because Felix had no proof, but because it seemed completely absurd and impossible.

How could he—how could anyone—speak to animals?

"I can’t believe you, Felix. No matter how much I want to, this seems absurd. How could you, how could anyone…" Your endless stammering was cut off by the words that left Felix’s mouth.

"I’m a fairy." Those words came from the guy holding the rabbit. Silence filled the hallway.

You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh or tell you it was all a joke. But he didn’t. Instead, he held your gaze with complete seriousness.

"A fairy of animals" he continued, explaining further. "They feel me. My essence, my scent… That’s why this little one came here. He found me because he knew I could give him shelter."

The rabbit, as if to confirm his words, rubbed its nose against Felix’s wet hand and closed its eyes in satisfaction.

Your mind was racing, trying to find a rational explanation. But nothing made sense. The guy you had met on an ordinary day by the fountain was now confessing his biggest secret, trusting you completely just to help this small animal.

If he truly was a fairy, it made so much sense, considering you’d never met anyone with such a pure heart as his.

"I… this is a lot to process, even to believe" were the only words that escaped your mouth. Your gaze moved from Felix to the rabbit as the gears in your mind worked, searching for any other logical explanation.

"I know, I’m sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll leave as soon as the sun rises, but please, let me stay tonight. Let’s take care of him together." Felix’s words came out quickly, his eyes filled with nervousness.

His rushed and urgent words. You looked at him, still processing everything—the confession, the soaked rabbit in his arms, his fearful plea that you wouldn’t reject him.

You knew this was strange. It didn’t make sense. A part of you wanted to question everything. But another part, a more instinctual one, urged you to trust him.

His eyes, bright with anxiety, held onto yours. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind in your chest.

"Stay" you murmured finally, with a small sigh. Felix blinked, as if unsure he had heard you correctly.

"Really?" he asked incredulously, his eyes filling with hope and a golden gleam.

"Really" you confirmed, and although your mind was still full of doubt, your voice was firm. "But you’re going to explain everything to me calmly and in detail in the morning."

"Thank you, We really appreciate it" Relief immediately appeared on his face, and if he didn’t have the rabbit in his arms, you were sure he would have come over to hug you.

You didn’t say anything else. Instead, you turned and walked toward the living room, taking a couple of towels from a cabinet. You handed them to Felix to dry the rabbit, who was still trembling slightly.

He took everything with trembling hands, as if he still couldn’t believe you were letting him stay.

Once he made sure the little animal was comfortable and warm, wrapped in the towels on his arms, Felix collapsed onto the sofa with a long sigh. You sat beside him, your now calmer gaze fixed on the furry animal.

And there, in the living room, with the air still filled with confessed secrets and the soft sound of rain tapping on the windows, you spent the night.

Your fingers moved slowly over the small rabbit’s fur, feeling its calm breathing under your hand. Fatigue slowly began to overtake you, your eyelids growing heavy until, without realizing it, your head rested on Felix’s shoulder.

He didn’t move at all, only letting out a serene sigh as he gently placed his head on top of yours, allowing the calm to envelop you both, and you both fell into a deep sleep.

.ᐟA/N: thank u so much for reading! This took me more time than my other creations becuase I wanted to try and make a longer fanfic so I really hope you like it. Please dont forget to like and reblog (divider not mine!)

I do not accept any copies, remakes, or translations of my work

[redocity]

Hi!! I love your writing a lot and I'm so glad to have found your account 🩷🩷 This is my first time ever making a request so please let me know if I was being to vague, but can you write a buck x F/GN reader where buck and reader comes home late at night and they do sort of a cleansing night routine? I don't know if that makes sense or if it's too plain, but thank you if you do!! 🩷

LONG DAY — E.BUCKLEY

there’s nothing you enjoy more after a long day than unwinding with your doting boyfriend.

evan buckley x gn!reader | 1.4k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — enjoy some wholesomeness :)

The apartment door swings open with a quiet creak, and you step inside, your body heavy with exhaustion.

The shift at the firehouse had been relentless—one call after another, barely enough time to catch your breath between emergencies. Your muscles ache, and the scent of smoke clings to you like a second skin, embedding itself deep into your clothes, your hair, your pores.

Behind you, Buck follows, just as worn down, though he still manages to wear a small, weary grin. You hear the dull thud of his boots as he toes them off near the door, a sigh slipping past his lips.

“Finally home,” he murmurs, his voice rough from hours of shouting over sirens and inhaling ash.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you let your gear bag drop from your shoulder with a heavy thump, wincing as your stiff muscles protest the sudden movement.

Lifting your arms to stretch, you feel the pull in your shoulders and the deep-seated tension in your lower back.

Buck watches you with quiet amusement, his eyes soft despite the exhaustion weighing him down. Then, as if drawn to you by some invisible force, he steps forward and wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

His embrace is warm, grounding, the heat of his body radiating through the fabric of your sweat-dampened shirt.

He presses a kiss to the curve of your neck, the scratch of his stubble sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “You okay?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

You exhale, leaning into him. “Yeah. Just—long day,”

“I know,” he says, tightening his hold on you for a moment before loosening it just enough to guide you forward. “Come on. Let’s wash this day off,”

You let him take your hand and lead you down the dimly lit hallway, past the framed photos on the walls, past the warmth of the living room where the couch seems to beckon you to collapse into it. But the shower is calling louder.

Buck steps into the bathroom first, reaching out to turn on the shower. The pipes groan in protest before the water sputters to life, quickly filling the small space with a comforting warmth.

The steam rises, curling around the edges of the glass door, and you already feel lighter just knowing that soon the grime and stress of the day will be washed away.

You move sluggishly, exhaustion making your limbs heavy as you pull your sweat-sticky shirt over your head. It clings stubbornly to your skin, and you grunt in frustration.

Buck turns at the sound, his gaze dropping to your struggle. Without a word, he steps forward, gently grasping the hem of your shirt and peeling it off for you.

His touch is careful, his fingers brushing against your ribs as he lifts the fabric over your head. When you’re free of it, he tosses it aside, his hands lingering at your waist. His thumbs skim over your skin in slow, absentminded strokes, his eyes scanning your face.

“You look dead on your feet,” he murmurs.

“Feel like it, too,” you admit, giving him a tired smile.

He huffs out a soft chuckle before dropping to his knees to help you out of your pants. The gesture is intimate but not rushed, just another part of your shared routine after grueling shifts.

He tugs your pants down with gentle hands, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs as he guides them down. You step out of them, and as he rises back up, he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

When both of you are stripped bare, he laces his fingers through yours and pulls you into the shower.

The first touch of hot water against your skin makes you sigh in relief, your body instinctively relaxing as the warmth seeps into your muscles.

Buck moves behind you, his large hands settling on your hips before sliding up to your shoulders, kneading gently. “You’re so tense,” he murmurs, thumbs working circles into the knots in your muscles.

You hum in agreement, letting your head drop forward slightly, allowing him better access. His touch is firm yet soothing, his fingers finding each tight spot and easing the tension away with practiced precision.

Then, without a word, he reaches for the shampoo.

“Turn around,” he says softly, and you obey, facing him as he lathers the shampoo between his hands. The scent of eucalyptus fills the air as his fingers weave into your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, deliberate movements.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “That feels amazing,”

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the steady stream of water. “You deserve it,”

He takes his time, his fingers working through the strands of your hair, making sure to wash away every trace of sweat, soot, and fatigue. When he tilts your head back under the spray to rinse out the suds, his hands cradle the back of your neck, holding you steady as the warm water cascades down your skin.

You return the favor, lathering body wash between your palms before running your hands over his broad shoulders, across his chest, down his arms. His muscles are taut beneath your fingertips, his body familiar in a way that makes your heart ache with love.

By the time you’re both fully rinsed, the water has started to cool. Buck turns it off before stepping out first, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around you before drying himself off. He doesn’t rush—everything about tonight is slow, intentional, meant to be savored.

The two of you move seamlessly through the next part of your routine, making your way to the sink where your collection of skincare products waits.

Buck had never been into skincare before meeting you. At first, he’d only joined in for fun, teasingly smearing cleanser onto his face while making exaggerated expressions in the mirror.

But over time, he’d grown to enjoy it, relishing in the small, grounding ritual of taking care of himself after the chaos of the job.

You hand him his designated cleanser, watching as he carefully dispenses the right amount onto his palm before rubbing it into his skin. His expression is comically serious as he stares at his reflection, making sure to get every inch.

You stifle a laugh. “You always look like you’re solving a mystery when you do this,”

“This is serious business,” he replies, rinsing off the cleanser with methodical precision. “Gotta keep my skin as flawless as yours,”

Shaking your head fondly, you finish your own routine before turning to him with a small dollop of moisturizer on your fingertips. “Here, let me,”

He leans in without hesitation, letting you smooth the cream over his face. Your fingers trace the curve of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the line of his jaw.

His skin is warm, soft beneath your touch, and when you finish, he doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice laced with affection.

“Anytime,”

Once the final touches of your routine are complete, you both make your way to bed, the exhaustion settling in fully now that the weight of the day has been washed away.

The mattress is cool and inviting as you slip beneath the covers, and the moment you do, Buck pulls you close, his arms wrapping securely around you.

His body is warm against yours, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek as you rest your head against his chest.

“Long day,” he mutters sleepily, his lips pressing a drowsy kiss to your forehead.

You hum in agreement, nuzzling closer. “But at least we’re home now,”

“Yeah,” he sighs, tightening his hold on you. “Home,”

[sylusonychinus]

Maybe Forever?

Summary: In the neon-lit underbelly of The N109 Zone, a lost love resurfaces, forcing two souls bound by danger and betrayal to decide if their reunion is worth the risk. Pairings: Sylus x reader

The neon signs of N109 flickered a sickly purple and green, casting jagged shadows over rain-slicked streets. The air was thick with static, humming with the low thrum of illegal tech and the ever-present undercurrent of violence. You pulled your coat tighter, but the cold had long since seeped into your bones. There was no escaping it. No escaping him.

Sylus.

You hadn’t met him in some quaint cafe. Your paths had crossed in a far grittier setting: a high-stakes card game in a back-alley den where fortunes and lives were lost in equal measure. He had played with the kind of precision that only came from years of practice—or survival. His dark eyes had glittered with something almost amused as he bled the table dry. You should have walked away then. Should have ignored the way your pulse thrummed when his gaze locked onto yours, when he smirked like he already knew how this would end.

But you hadn’t. And it had been beautiful, in the way that falling from a great height was beautiful.

The N109 Zone was a wasteland of broken things, but with him, you had found something that almost felt whole. Stolen nights in hidden safe houses, whispered confessions over cheap synth-ale, his laughter in the darkness—a rare sound, like an eclipse, brief and consuming. He never promised forever. You never asked. Because deep down, you both knew what he was. What this was.

Then, one night, he was gone. No explanation. No goodbye. Just an empty room where he had been, a lingering trace of his cologne on your sheets. You told yourself you saw it coming. That you were a fool to think it could end any other way. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

You learned to walk its streets alone, learned to ignore the ghosts that haunted every corner. And still, he lingered. In the flicker of neon. In the hushed conversations of those who feared him. In the ache beneath your ribs that never fully faded.

Then, months later, on a night like any other, you found yourself back at the den where it all began, playing a game you no longer cared to win.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

The voice sent ice through your veins.

You turned. He was there, just a breath away, shadowed and worn, his sharp edges somehow sharper. His gaze was unreadable, but you could see the hesitation in the way his fingers flexed at his sides, the unspoken weight of what he had done, of what he had left behind.

You swallowed hard. “Guess I had a debt to settle.”

His lips twitched at the familiar words, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t want to leave,” he said, voice rough, almost hesitant. “It wasn’t safe. Not for you.”

Your breath hitched. Of course, it had been about you. About what you meant to him, about how easy it would have been for his enemies to rip you apart just to watch him bleed.

“And now?”

His jaw tightened. “Now, things are different.”

He spoke of the war he’d waged, the blood he’d spilled to climb higher, to take control, to make sure that no one could ever use you against him again. It should have terrified you. Maybe it did. But more than that, it made something inside you crack wide open.

He wasn’t offering you promises. Wasn’t offering you something soft or easy. He was offering you the truth—ugly, violent, and real. He was offering you himself.

You exhaled slowly. Then, without a word, you reached for his hand, felt the warmth of his skin against yours, the callouses that hadn’t faded. And for the first time in months, you felt steady.

His grip tightened. A silent vow.

Outside, the lights from a lampost pulsed against the dark, but for once, they didn’t seem so harsh. The city hadn’t changed. The danger hadn’t faded. But you weren’t walking through it alone anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.

@/cafekitsune for dividers

[youokaybucky]

"How did you end up like this?” - Clegan

Little summary: Bucky enters Stalag Luft III to find a very tired Gale.

Word count: 934

“What took you so long?” 

Gale’s words had been the light at the end of the tunnel for Bucky. Walking into Stalag Luft III, the sounds of fellow airmen shouting on either side of him was overwhelming until he’d heard Gale’s voice cut through the commotion. Bucky felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in days. That was until Gale took a step forward, elbows lent on the wire of the fence, majors cap firmly over his blonde hair… looking like death.

He was still smiling though. Buck Cleven was still smiling. But it didn’t change that there were dark circles under his eyes, his normally full cheeks were already starting to sallow, and his shoulders slumped forward as if it took enormous effort to stand. Gale was hard to look at. How could Bucky be so happy, yet so crushed at the same time? Gale smiling at him was something Bucky thought he would never see again. Except the man smiling at him looked so far from his Buck. 

After Bucky had been processed, where he found the Krauts didn’t appreciate jokes asking “when he could check out of the hotel?”, he ended up in the wooden hut with the rest of the 100th’s POWs.

Everyone had been happy to see him, or as happy as they could be finding out he’d been shot down. But they all thought it was better that Bucky Egan had walked into Stalag Luft III alive, even with a black eye and bloody cuts, than him losing his life somewhere in the skies over Europe. Bucky hadn’t agreed with them until he’d seen Buck, yet Buck wasn’t looking too good either. 

The others seemed to clock that Bucky wanted the room. Gale had almost immediately sat down on the edge of his bunk when they’d all entered, arms lent on his knees, hands clasped together for balance. Bucky heard the last man leave, and as soon as the door had shut he was crowding Gale with his larger body. 

“Buck, baby…” Bucky couldn’t stop himself from cradling Gale’s face in his hands. His thumbs traced over Gale’s cheekbones, tips edging around the purple under his baby-blue eyes. Those same eyes were looking down, avoiding Bucky’s gaze at all cost. It was as if Gale was ashamed by how he was presented to Bucky right now. A flash of protectiveness tightened Bucky’s chest. His sweet, beautiful Buck looked like he’d been through hell, and looks like he’s still living in hell. Gale Cleven may not have the largest personality, but he glowed with a different kind of light. Now it seemed that light was diminished.

“How did you end up like this?” Bucky’s tone came out sterner than he’d expected. It made Gale look up now, eyes wide and panicked as he searched Bucky’s face.

“Bucky, I’m okay.” It was a feeble answer. One that neither man seemed to believe. 

“No you’re not.” Again, Bucky couldn’t control the worry he felt from infecting his voice. The other men looked rough, but none of them looked as rough as Buck. The horrible thought of Buck taking punishments for his men, or sacrificing his own food and water ratios for his men came into Bucky’s mind. It made him feel sick.

“Buck...” Bucky started, but then paused when even he was shocked to hear himself talking in his major’s voice to Gale. During the pause he moved a hand from Gale’s cheek to his chin, using his thumb to guide the other man’s face to his. The tip of Bucky’s nose bumped Gale’s affectionately, lips brushing together as Bucky felt Gale melt into him. Bucky pressed a single sweet kiss to Gale’s lips, hoping it would convey everything Bucky wanted to say. How unbelievably happy he was to find Gale alive, how worried he was about him, how much he wanted to help if Gale would just let him. 

“Buck.” Bucky started again. “Talk to me.”

“I-” 

When Gale stopped himself Bucky started to circle his cheekbone again with his left thumb. It was a soft touch, Gale keening towards it without even knowing. He was leaning his head into Bucky’s large hand. Bucky was holding him, like he was a baby bird who had fallen from a tree, unable to fly away and rescue itself. 

“I’m tired.” Gale finally admitted. “So tired.”  

“You’ve done so well, babydoll. So well. And I’m here now. I won’t let any harm come to you now. I’ll protect you. We’re together again.” Bucky was aware he was babbling away, but he’d do or say anything to ease Gale’s current state. 

“And I don’t feel too good.” 

Bucky finally let out a deep sigh at Gale’s confession. Getting Gale Cleven to admit anything was wrong, was incredibly rare. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Is it a rest? Is that what you need?”

Gale just nodded. 

Moving from his place on the floor, Bucky pushed himself up while pushing Gale back down onto his bunk. It didn’t matter that Gale was still in coat, that Bucky still had blood scattered on his face. Within a few short moments Gale was lying on his side, smaller body curled into Bucky’s larger frame, long arms holding him to warmth. 

“You can sleep now, babydoll. You can stand down.” 

Bucky knew that was what Gale needed to be told. He needed to be told he could rest, that he could stand down, that he didn’t need to do the protecting anymore. He would be protected now. 

For the first time since Gale entered Stalag Luft III, he slept soundly.

Anna's MOTA Feveruary 2025 Masterpost

[phoenixblaze1412]

Headcannon I have that's related to One of my OCs (Mask has a bunch of scars on her face):

Swapping Scar stories and kissing eachothers scars- just-

God dammit I love soft Dottore

The laboratory was unusually quiet, its usual hum of alchemical experiments replaced by a rare stillness. The soft glow of lamps cast long shadows across sleek metal surfaces and shelves filled with jars of strange specimens.

You sat beside Dottore on a surprisingly comfortable sofa tucked into the corner of his lab. He typically thrived in chaos and cold logic but now, with no experiments demanding his attention and only you by his side, his expression was softer, more human.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the jagged scars that marred your cheek and temple, trailing down to your jawline. Each one told a story, a reminder of battles fought and survived. They were permanent marks of your past but over time, they had become part of you.

Dottore’s crimson eyes flickered toward your hand, catching the movement as you touched your face. His sharp gaze softened, curiosity mingled with something far gentler.

"Do they still hurt?" he asked, his voice stripped of its usual clinical detachment.

You shook your head, offering a small smile. "Not anymore. They're just scars now, memories, I guess."

He regarded you thoughtfully, leaning back against the sofa. After a pause, he lifted a gloved hand and slowly removed his mask, revealing a jagged scar running diagonally across his face, from just below his left eye down to his jawline. It was raw in appearance, a wound that had not faded gracefully with time.

“These,” he said while tracing along the scar with his fingers, “are from my.. younger days. I’ve always been the kind to push boundaries, even when it meant getting hurt. I suppose I never learned caution."

You felt your breath hitched slightly at the sight of it. You hadn’t seen that scar up close before; it was usually hidden beneath his mask or obscured by shadows. It was raw and brutal, like a slash left by fate itself.

“You don’t hide it very well,” you teased gently, though your voice was tinged with warmth.

Dottore arched a brow. “Perhaps I’m less inclined to care these days.”

A comfortable silence settled between you. Then, unable to stop yourself, you leaned forward, tracing the rough edge of his scar with trembling fingertips. His breath hitched, though he didn’t pull away. The texture of the scar beneath your fingers was uneven, evidence of pain endured but overcome.

“It.. suits you,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “Strong. Unyielding.”

Dottore’s lips quirked into something that might have been a smile. “And yours?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the scars marking your face. “Do they suit you?”

You chuckled softly. “Maybe not as dramatically as yours, but they’re part of me now. I wouldn’t be who I am without them.”

A beat passed before he spoke again, his voice quieter, gentler. “They’re beautiful.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Beautiful?”

He nodded. “A testament to your survival. To your strength.” You felt warmth bloomed in your chest. “If mine are beautiful, then so is yours.”

His eyes flickered with surprise, as though unused to receiving such earnest words. Slowly, carefully, he cupped your face, gloved fingers brushing tenderly over the scars that marred your skin. The usual sharpness in his touch was gone, replaced by something infinitely softer.

"You always surprise me," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Good," you whispered, leaning into his touch.

The moment lingered, heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, without warning, Dottore leaned in, pressing his lips to your temple, right where one of your scars curved along your brow. The kiss was gentle, reverent, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. “You don’t have to hide with me,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Not your scars, not anything.”

For once, Dottore didn’t offer a biting retort or dismissive remark. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“You make that sound far easier than it is,” he admitted.

“Maybe,” you conceded with a smile. “But I’ll be here to remind you anyway.”

A rare softness flickered in his crimson eyes. “You’re so persistent,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

“You love it,” you teased.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Perhaps I do.”

In a bold move, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. His initial surprise melted quickly, replaced by equal fervor as he responded, his hands cradling your face as though you were something precious. When you finally pulled back, breathless, his gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it.

“Stay,” he murmured, the single word carrying weight and vulnerability.

“Always,” you promised without hesitation.