#or enough room. i hope i can still pull through

[khioneee]

TAPPING OUT

synopsis. caleb graduates from the academy, but when you unexpectedly tap him out, a tradition where loved ones step forward to formally release a pilot from their duty, he realizes no achievement compares to having you by his side. (based on this.) word count. 1.1k an. loved doing this for codghost so i might as well do it for this man. lets pretend they have the tradition in their universe. okay? okay.

caleb stood in the crowd, his posture rigid and form still with precision despite the celebration around him. cheers echoed through the room, but they sounded distant, muffled. he watched as pilots, one by one, were tapped out by their loved ones. parents embracing their children, lovers reuniting in tearful hugs.

his chest tightened as his eyes scanned the room. he was waiting for gran, the one person he knew would come. gran had always shown up, had always been his anchor. he learnt not to expect anything more, not to hope for anyone else.

but then, like a shift in the universe, caleb felt you before he saw you.

when you stepped into the room, it was as if the entire world faded away. time slowed, the noise dimmed, and the lights seemed to soften, catching on the edges of your features. you looked beautiful, achingly so. heartbreakingly out of reach. you weren’t supposed to be here, not after the fight, not after the cruel words you’d both thrown at each other before he left.

you moved toward him with purpose, cutting through the room like you were meant to be there all along.

caleb couldn’t breathe. he couldn’t think.

his hands trembled at his sides as he watched you close the distance between you. he could act all stoic, but his heart didn’t feel stoic enough to make him calm.

when you stopped in front of him, there were tears already brimming in your eyes. his carefully constructed control, unshakable during training, steadfast through every grueling challenge, began to crumble.

caleb had faced impossible physical challenges, the grueling expectations of training, and the endless psychological evaluations that pushed him to the edge. but none of those had broken him nearly like you did. you, standing here, looking at him like that.

you were his undoing.

you should be his first sign. the first sign that there was something wrong with him. because you were his obsession. the one he was slowly losing control over.

caleb was not allowed to fall in love with you.

he trembled as your fingers brushed against his, tapping him out of his frozen misery. the soft touch was meant to symbolize recognition, acknowledgment. but to caleb, it was so much more.

you were here. you were real.

there was no second-guessing, no hesitation. before he could stop himself, his arms were around you, pulling you into him with a force that left him breathless. a strangled sigh escaped his lips and found its home in the crook of your neck, right where your heart beats: friends, friends, friends.

he held you like a man drowning, and you were the only thing keeping him afloat. he felt the soft shake of your shoulders, the warmth of your tears against his neck, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

‘i didn’t think you’d come,’ he whispered, his voice low and raw, breaking under the weight of his emotions. you pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. there was something in his gaze, but before you could respond, he spoke again, quieter this time, like a vow. ‘i’ll never let you go.’

the words made you shiver. they were so soft you almost didn’t catch them.

‘you can try,’ you joked, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to lighten the mood. a nervous laugh escaped as you gently pushed against his chest, pretending to escape his embrace. ‘you love me, i get it.’

but caleb didn’t loosen his hold. instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. there was a quiet laugh, quiet and unsteady, before he murmured, ‘you have no idea, pipsqueak.’

his voice was filled with something raw, something deeper than you could fully understand. it wasn’t just love. it was obsession, devotion, a yearning that had no end.

you smelled like honey. like the same thing you’d been smelling your entire life that made you feel like home in a way that hotels and dorm beds could never manage.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, shining pin they’d given him for finishing aerospace academy. it gleamed in the light, a symbol of everything he’d fought to achieve. without a word, he placed it carefully in your palm.

your fingers brushed his as you took it, and the touch sent sparks up his arm. with careful, deliberate precision, you pinned it to his chest. caleb didn’t move, his gaze fixed on you, watching every motion, every soft touch of your fingers against his uniform.

‘they should give you a medal instead for doing so well,’ you teased softly, smiling up at him.

once the pin was secure, you smoothed down his uniform, your fingers lingering against the fabric. it was such a small gesture, but it felt so intimate that caleb’s breath hitched.

he tried his best not to be frantic, but it was almost impossible when he was overloaded with want, want, want, and with the feeling that this might not happen again, with the fear that if caleb thought about it too hard, he’d stop himself before he did too much.

he couldn’t stop himself any longer. leaning down, he kissed your cheek, his lips lingering on your skin. he didn’t move away immediately, letting the moment stretch as he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of you.

he felt like a criminal on the run, but it was too good to withdraw from. so, he overdosed on unrequited love.

when he finally pulled back, there was a soft, almost shy smile on his lips. his voice was low, but full of meaning. ‘i already have my reward.’

you looked up at him, your cheeks warm, his cap still sitting crooked on your head. for a moment, neither of you spoke, and the weight of everything unsaid lingered between you.

and caleb, looking at you, standing there with your fingers still on his uniform, knew it was the absolute truth. you didn’t realize it, but you were the center of his universe. his greatest test, his deepest weakness, and the one thing he could never, ever let go of.

i’m a fool, he decided. damned in the bits of exhaustion at pulling and pushing at whatever’s left of trying.

the noise of the crowd finally broke through the haze, the sound of laughter and celebration pulling you both back to the present. caleb stepped back slightly, watching as you adjusted his cap, your smile soft but hesitant.

you didn’t have to know the struggle he’d endured to get here, the battles he’d fought within himself.

you were his obsession. his reason for everything. and he was losing control, but he didn’t care. because having you here, now, was all that mattered.

[norikuna]

tags — reader has a fever, trueform!sukuna

"sukuna, i think 'm dying."

the estate is unusually quiet tonight, the only sounds being the rustling of silks and the crackling of the candles flickering in the evening light. outside, the air has turned cool, but inside, the fever that rages through your body makes everything feel so suffocatingly hot. limbs thrumming with an ache that makes it so impossible to focus.

the king of curses is still beside you, and he has yet to speak, indifference practically radiating off him. two arms crossed over his bare, marked chest, and the other two are flipping lazily through the thin pages of a book.

"sukuna," you repeat, "are you jus' gonna sit there while the love of your life withers away?"

blood-wine eyes narrowing, barely glancing at you, "tch', do i look like a babysitter for ill humans?"

"hope you catch whatever i've got."

you can hear the smug tone colouring sukuna's dulcet tone, "can't. i've got an impeccable system. i'm immune to diseases you've never even heard of."

rolling your eyes, you throw the sheets off, shivering as the cool air hits your fevered skin, "not immune to being a cunt."

sukuna sighs, snapping the book shut, as though your ill mood is an mere inconvenience, "what is it that you want?"

you scoot closer to his hulking form, body heavy with an aching fatigue, "well, my head hurts and 'm hungry. like, i want plums."

"plums?" sukuna echoes in disbelief, his four arms unfurling, "tsk', what do you think i am? some kind of fruit merchant? i don't have time for this." with an irritable glance, he's muttering something under his breath, large frame retreating as he stalks out of the room.

he's still grumbling, biting and muttering about the incompetence of humans, and menial labour being below him. you can only roll your eyes, letting your head fall back against the pillow. wondering where on earth he's gone to.

perhaps, it would have been more prudent to call for the servants. but just as the silence becomes unbearable, you hear thudding steps. the door sliding open with a soft hiss, and before you can even lift your head, a cool cloth is pressed to your forehead. there's no tenderness nor gentleness in the gesture, but it is quiet and unceremonious. somehow bringing instant relief.

a basket is clunked! down beside you, and the sweet scent of ripe fruit fills the air, "don't get used to it, brat."

you crack open bleary eyes, and there he is, clawed nails slipping through your hair. you've seen those razor-sharp nails tear men apart into ribbons without a second thought, but they've never even left a scratch upon your flesh.

"y'don't have to do all this. the servants could get someone in," you mumble, unable to resist the small curl of a smile that tugs at the corners of your dry lips. there's something almost endearing about the sight of sukuna, his rough and bruised look softened by the mussed blush-pink strands atop his head.

"clearly, i do. not even capable of looking after yourself," sukuna grumbles, but there's a shift in a tone. no longer indifference, you would wager, looking at the worried creases kissing his eyes, whispering of rare concern from a demon's heart. he's clearly toying with some idea, stiff, as though he's visibly disgusted — but searing lips brush your forehead in a fleeting kiss. soft, barely there, but it's enough to soothe the worries that often plague at your heart.

"ugh, don't look at me like that," sukuna mutters, pulling back from you, eyes flitting over your face. large, warm hand moving to your neck, a broad thumb tracing the arch of it with a feather-light touch, testing the waters.

you softly laugh, tugging at a wide forearm, lightly dusted with pale hair, "i should fall ill more often."

sukuna's crimson eyes snap to yours, and for a split second, the usual smugness dissipates. handsome nose scrunching slightly, displeased, and you catch the fleeting shift of guilt in his expression. before you can remark on it, he leans in again, hot lips brushing the side of your neck, as though he wishes to hide his open expression, "greedy, aren't you?" he's murmuring, edge of his voice thick with something you can't place.

without a word, thick arms are pulling you closer, guiding your weary head to rest against the curve of his broad, bare chest. the raw heat radiating from his form is a welcome contrast to the chill of the room, and you can't help but melt into his touch.

"sleep, you idiot," sukuna grumbles softly, voice rumbling through his chest. a hand rests lightly on your back, heavy and warm. it's often a presence that you'd never thought you'd grow accustomed to. but now, with your body aching and your mind giving way to exhaustion, it feels...right. the last thing you hear is his steady, soothing grumble, the familar sound of him still annoyed, still gruff, but somehow softer, "don't want you ever forgetting that i do love you"

a beat of silence, and then, "shoulda' checked you were asleep before i dropped that one."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shy

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

Summary: You still get shy around your girlfriend

The move was a long time in the making.

You bled North London, making your senior debut at just seventeen for Arsenal. You came straight up through the academy with Leah. You eat, lived and slept Arsenal and yet...

Barcelona was where you found yourself now.

They'd been chasing you for years, trying to get your pen on paper. You'd turned them down every time up until now.

It broke your heart to leave Arsenal but it was for the best.

Barcelona got what they wanted, three years of world class defence from you and you got what you wanted, to finally move in with your girlfriend.

Aitana was perfect. You'd met at a friendly years ago and really hit it off. Five years later and you both knew that the long-distance portion of your love was coming to a close.

There wasn't even a question of who was going to move. You may have bled North London but you were happy to trade rainy England for sunny Spain.

It felt a bit like the honeymoon stage again when you could barely keep your hands off of each other. Just a tiny brush of her hand against yours made you feel all tingly inside and you kept smiling at her like a loon, unable to wipe it off your face.

"You're disgusting," Lucy commented as you sat in the break room, head propped up on your fist as you stared longingly across the room," I've never met anyone more smitten before. You know you live with her, right? It's not too scary to talk to her, I hope."

You looked down bashfully, cheeks aflame.

Lucy had been leading the charge on teasing you about Aitana. You couldn't help that your girlfriend still made you feel like a blushing school girl.

"She's busy. I don't want to interrupt her," You replied, turning away to try and hide your embarrassment."

"Busy," Keira scoffed," She's talking to Mapi and Ingrid. That's hardly busy."

"They're having a conversation. People shouldn't invite themselves into conversations. It's rude."

"So you're just going to pine from afar?" Lucy laughed. She reached forward and pinched your cheek, ruffling your hair when you forcefully pulled away. "God, what are you twelve?"

You had a retort on the tip of your tongue but it died instantly when Aitana turned around.

She smiled at you and waved.

You waved back and looked down bashfully.

Lucy made gagging noises.

"Leave me alone!" You complained," Can't you go and bother someone else?"

"But you make it so easy." She flicked you away with her hand. "Go on then, lover girl. Try not to just stare and dribble down your top."

You flipped her off as you went, ignoring the way Keira was making kissy faces behind your back.

"Hi," You said softly, hyper aware of the red sheen to your cheeks.

"Hi," Aitana said back, patting the spot next to her.

You sat and moved to rest your head on her shoulder while Aitana's hand immediately gripped yours, lacing your fingers together tightly.

"You two are so gross," Mapi said," You're like little kids on their first date."

Unlike with Lucy, you didn't feel confident enough to argue with Mapi. You'd played on the national team with Lucy for years. You knew how to deal with her but, with Aitana's teammates, you felt it was probably better to just stay silent and not make eye contact.

"Just because we still have chemistry doesn't mean it's a personal attack on you," Aitana replied.

Her thumb gently stroked circles on your hand as she spoke and you melted into a pile of goo then and there.

"Me and Ingrid still have chemistry!" Mapi insisted," Just because we're not pushing our PDA on everybody doesn't mean we don't! You're like horny teenagers."

The permanent blush on your face only got deeper and you tried to hide your face in Aitana's shoulder.

"Look at her!" Mapi continued," She's like a pile of mush!"

"I'm still here," You muttered," I can hear you."

"Are you sure?" Mapi teased," I mean, can you really focus on anything apart from Aitana? God, you both make me feel sick. You're disgustingly in love."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Aitana looked proud at the comparison, puffing out her chest in a way that made your cheeks burn brighter. She dropped a kiss to one of them, nice and firm and you slouched a bit lower in your seat when you accidentally caught Mapi's eye.

"I mean, what are you doing to the poor girl?" She laughed," She looks like a tomato!"

"She's just shy," Aitana said," And that's fine! I love her like this."

You pressed a soft kiss to her neck and whispered for her ears only," I love you too."

[thedreamingdevil]

Incest smut with Jeon Somi please! 🙏😭 Write whatever with her, I don't mind! She lacks smut around here 🥲

Don't Get Drunk

Jeon Somi × Male Reader (6,082 words)

Author's note: Sorry for being MIA! The new year has been a bit wild. I got a little too greedy and wanted to write all my ideas at once, but then I ended up not finishing anything. Lesson learned, right? I’m aiming to post one smut piece every two weeks from now on, so wish me luck! Also, my first non-Dreamcatcher smut, woo!

The dim glow of your television paints the walls of your living room in shifting shades of blue as you lose yourself in the hardcore porn playing loudly on screen. Your hand traces the thick veins throbbing beneath the skin of your cock. Each stroke sends a pleasurable jolt through you as you watch the bodies writhe and moan.

Boxers are all you bother with tonight, the cool air raising goosebumps on your bare chest, a stark contrast to the heat building in your groin. You're completely engrossed, riding the edge of release, when a jarring buzz cuts through the porn’s soundtrack. Annoyance flares instantly, a tight knot in your stomach pulling you from the brink of pleasure.

You glance at your phone screen, the bright numbers mocking you: 12:37 AM. Who the hell is ringing your doorbell at this ungodly hour? It’s Saturday night, for fuck’s sake, people are supposed to be out partying, not bothering you in your sanctuary of solitude and self-love.

Before you can fully register your irritation, the doorbell bleats again, a longer, more insistent sound this time, as if the person on the other side is determined to get your attention. With a frustrated click of your tongue, you reluctantly pull your boxers up, the soft fabric momentarily trapping your still-hard dick.

The buzz resonates again, now bordering on aggressive. Fine, you think, you'll answer it and send whoever it is packing. You stomp to the door, adrenaline mixed with residual horniness making your movements jerky. You yank the door open with more force than necessary, ready to unleash a volley of irritated questions, but the words die on your tongue.

Standing on your doorstep are two women. One, a vibrant shock of pink hair, is supporting the other, who is practically draped over her shoulder. And you recognize them instantly. It's your older sister, Somi, completely plastered, and her eternally bubbly, pink-haired friend, Giselle.

Heat floods your face, a flush of embarrassment. You hadn’t expected visitors, especially not now, especially not in this state, shirtless and still smelling faintly of your own musk. You try to subtly tug your boxers higher, hoping they conceal enough. Giselle, however, just beams at you, her smile wide and bright even in the dim hallway light.

“Hey!” she chirps, her voice slightly breathless from the effort of holding up your taller sister. “Sorry to bother you so late, but well, Somi insisted on coming here.” Giselle’s eyes flick towards you, her smile softening into an apologetic curve. “I offered to let her crash at my place, but she was really set on seeing you.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair and pushing down the lingering mortification. Somi is a mess. Her blonde hair, usually meticulously styled, hangs in tangled clumps around her face. Her white blouse is askew, twisted so far to the side that the lacy edge of her bra is clearly visible, and the swell of her tits threatens to spill out of the neckline with every unsteady breath she takes.

She looks up at you, her eyes unfocused and glassy, and a wide, goofy grin spreads across her face. She slurs your name, her voice thick with alcohol. “You’re the best! Thank you for letting me stay!” She doesn’t even wait for you to agree, just assumes she’s welcome, as always.

Giselle’s voice cuts through Somi’s drunken ramblings, bringing you back to the awkward reality of the situation. “Yeah, sorry about this,” she repeats, her pronunciation softening the words. “I really tried to get her to come to my place, but… yeah, you see how that worked out.” She gestures helplessly at Somi, who is now attempting to hug Giselle's arm, giggling nonsensically.

You manage a small smile. "It's fine," resignation coloring your tone. "I know how stubborn she can be when she's like this." It’s an understatement. Somi sober is headstrong; Somi drunk is a force of nature. With a sigh, you reach out and disentangle Somi from Giselle, taking your sister’s weight onto yourself.

Her soft body pressed against yours, her chest bumping against your bare arm. “Thanks for bringing this blondie here,” you say to Giselle, nodding your head in gratitude. “Want to come in for a bit?”

The offer is half-hearted, because the blaring porn audio suddenly registers in your mind, a pulsing rhythm vibrating through the thinly insulated walls.

Luckily, Giselle shakes her head, her pink hair swaying. “Oh, no, it’s really late,” she says, her smile still warm but tinged with tiredness. “I should probably head home. Just make sure she drinks some water, okay?”

You nod, a silent thank you. You can’t quite tell if Giselle heard the muffled throbbing bass from your apartment, but she’s smiling as usual, so maybe she’s either oblivious or just incredibly polite.

“Goodnight!” she calls out, waving as she turns to walk away, her pink hair bobbing in the dim light. “Goodnight, Somi!”

You close the door, the click echoing in the sudden quiet. Then, you turn your attention to the drunken blonde lump in your arms. Somi instantly latches onto you, clinging like a koala, her arms wrapping around your neck, her soft chest pressing firmly against your arm.

You notice then that her short skirt has ridden even higher throughout the evening’s drunken escapades, now barely covering her thighs. You grunt slightly at her unexpected weight, and half-drag, half-carry her towards the living room, her body limp and pliant against yours.

You dump her unceremoniously onto the stool of the kitchen countertop first, her breathing heavy and shallow. You stare down at her semi-conscious form, a jumble of irritation and something else stirring within you.

From as far back as you can remember, Somi has been a constant source of trouble. Always needing rescuing, always making messes, always relying on you to clean up after her.

You’d foolishly hoped that adulthood would bring some semblance of responsibility, some maturity, but tonight proves that she’s only gotten worse. And it’s always you who has to deal with it.

You’re barely an adult yourself, just out of high school, juggling odd jobs to make ends meet. You can barely afford to feed yourself, let alone constantly bail out your trainwreck of a sister.

But as you look at her now, drunk and vulnerable, a different kind of thought surfaces. Maybe, just maybe, Somi’s perpetual negligence, her constant state of disarray, maybe it could be useful to you in some way.

Your gaze roams over her curvy body, lingering on her glossy parted lips, slightly swollen and wet-looking. It drifts lower, to the generous mound of her breasts, straining against the fabric of her blouse, the nipples hardening against the thin material in the cool air.

Finally, your eyes settle on her exposed thighs, bare and pale beneath the hiked-up skirt. Your own cock, still semi-hard from earlier, stirs inside your boxers, tightening with renewed insistence.

The images from the porn movie on the screen flicker in your peripheral vision, blurring with the real, tempting flesh before you; you older sister. A dangerous, thrilling idea begins to take root in your mind.

Somi slurs her words, leaning heavily against the countertop. "Hey... sorry about all the trouble," she says, her voice low and deep. "But you don't mind, right? Cause we're siblings, after all." She lets out a giggle, a wet, bubbly sound that ends in a snort.

She stumbles further into your apartment, clumsily making her way to the couch like she expects you to scoop her up and carry her, like she is some fat, lazy crocodile ready to be provided endless comfort.

Her breasts, unrestrained by a bra, bounce with each unsteady step, quivering under her thin top as she collapses onto the couch, where she sprawls out, limbs akimbo, like she owns the damn place.

You watch her, a low chuckle rumbling in your chest, the predatory feeling already starting to stir. "Of course, sis," you say, your voice smooth, almost too gentle. "I will take care of my sister."

She grins drunkenly, eyes unfocused and glazed over. "Knew I could count on you," she mumbles, already drifting off, her words blurring together.

You watch her for a moment, the image of her sprawled out on your couch igniting a heat in your groin. Quietly, you push your boxers down, the sound amplified in the still room. You reach inside, your fingers closing around the thick shaft already straining against the fabric.

With a swift motion, you pull them down, freeing your rock-hard cock. It springs out, heavy and throbbing, pulsing with anticipation as you approach the couch, your footsteps silent on the carpet.

Lowering yourself, you position yourself directly in front of her face, your cock level with her slightly parted lips. Without a word, you guide the head of your cock to her mouth, the tip nudging against her wet lips.

Then, with a firm push, you slide your cock inside, the warmth and moisture of her mouth enveloping you. You hiss in pleasure, the sensation electric. Somi moans, a confused sound escaping her throat. Instinctively, she tries to pull her face away, a weak resistance against your forceful advance.

But you're ready. Your hand shoots out, gripping the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in her hair, holding her head firmly in place. You push deeper, inch after inch, forcing more of your length into her mouth. Her tongue, surprisingly, wraps around your shaft, massaging you, a primal, instinctive response even in her drunken stupor.

Somi’s voice is muffled, a garbled protest against your intrusive cock. "Mmmph… no…" she manages to moan against your flesh, her hand weakly pushing against your thigh, a pathetic attempt to dislodge you. Her eyes flutter half-open, unfocused and confused.

But you’re lost in the sensation, the friction of her mouth, the growing pleasure tightening your balls. You hiss again, a sharp intake of breath, as you slide in and out, slowly at first, savoring the feel. Her moans of unconscious protest only fuel your excitement.

You lean closer, "Come on, sis," you whisper, the word dripping with a sick intimacy. "I know you’re a good cocksucker." You shift your grip on her nape, tightening it possessively. "Just suck my cock every day, and then you can stay here as long as you want. You don’t have to hear Dad’s nagging at home anymore."

The proposition hangs in the air, a twisted bargain made in the heat of the lustful moment. Somi's head bobs rhythmically, almost unconsciously. Despite her mumbled protests, her mouth tightens around your cock, her body seemingly overriding her conscious mind.

Her back arches slightly off the couch, a subtle shift in posture that reveals a buried desire. Her legs clamp together, rubbing against each other, a telltale sign of her own arousal, even in this forced encounter.

It's as if her body knows, deep down, that she’s a slut at the core, always ready to submit to pleasure. She starts humming unconsciously, a low vibration against your shaft, and more saliva coats your cock, making each thrust slicker, smoother.

You slide in and out of her mouth, her soft lips wrapping tight, almost pleasurably so, around your girth. Her drunken unconsciousness seems to be turning into something else, something more primal and accepting.

Emboldened by her lack of real resistance and her body's involuntary responses, you become rougher, fucking her face deeper, your thrusts becoming faster and more forceful. Somi gags, a choked sound escaping her throat, her eyes watering slightly.

Her free hand, no longer weakly pushing, now clutches at your balls, a tighter grip, a more desperate attempt to push you away, but even then, she's still sucking, her mouth still working against your cock at the same time.

You feel a surge of dominance. "Fuck," you breathe out, your hand tightening on her neck, ignoring her attempts to push you away. "If my sister treats me like this, I don't even need a girlfriend." The thought, crude and selfish, reinforces your actions, justifying your violation in your own twisted mind.

After a few more slow, deliberate thrusts, you feel yourself reaching the edge. Your pace quickens, your groans growing louder, more animalistic. Then, you explode, cumming right inside her mouth, a thick, hot stream of ejaculate erupting from your cock, flooding her mouth.

It just keeps coming, a long, intense orgasm that lasts for nearly a minute. Somi gulps it all down, her throat working reflexively, despite choking and sputtering for air. Finally, you pull out, your cock slick with her saliva and your cum. Somi coughs, a wet, hacking sound, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, her eyes still hazy and unfocused.

"What the fuck was that?" she slurs, her voice raw and thick. You know she’s still not really sober, her awareness only just starting to flicker back.

You answer with a smirk, your voice light, almost joking, hiding the darkness of your actions. "Giselle said make sure I give you water, sis," you say, watching her confused flushed expression. "But I'm not sure it's quite enough."

The flickering images on the television screen cast an erratic light across the living room, but your attention is far from the movie. It’s fixed on Somi, your sister, sprawled haphazardly on the couch. You’d expected a slurry, indignant argument – the usual performance when she’s this deep into her cups.

Instead, she simply rolled, a slow, ungainly tumble, and landed with a soft thud onto the floor. A light snore rattles from her lips. You scoff, a dry, humorless sound. It's pathetic, really. You try to refocus on the screen, but the vibrant colors and action feel hollow, meaningless against the backdrop of this tableau.

The remote clicks in your hand, plunging the room into near darkness, save for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the window. The silence is thick, broken only by Somi’s shallow breaths. Your gaze drifts back to her prone form. A different kind of heat begins to prickle under your skin. You let your eyes trace the curves of her body, the way her shirt rides up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale skin above her skirt.

Suddenly, the images that flood your mind are no longer scenes from the abandoned porn movie. They are scenarios starring Somi, her body pliant and yielding beneath your touch. The forbidden nature of the fantasy ignites a thrill, a dangerous spark that flares in your gut. You feel your cock stir once again, hardening stubbornly.

It’s a slow, insistent rise, fueled by a cocktail of curiosity and a dark, unsettling desire.

A short, mirthless laugh escapes your lips, echoing in the quiet room. "This is fucked up," you murmur to yourself, the words barely a whisper. And it is. Completely, utterly fucked up. Yet, the thought of stopping, of pulling back from the precipice of this madness, feels…unappealing.

A strange inertia holds you captive. No guilt washes over you, no immediate sense of revulsion. Instead, there's a chilling detachment, a sensation of watching yourself from a distance as you stand and, with a grunt, scoop your sister up from the floor. Her limbs are heavy, limp. You carry her back to the couch, the scent of cheap alcohol and something faintly floral clinging to her.

You lay her on her back, her head lolling to the side. Straddling her waist, you plant one knee deliberately between her thighs, feeling the soft give of her panties. Leaning close, your face inches from her slack-jawed, heaving face, you take a shallow breath, inhaling the boozy air she exhales.

Your hand, almost of its own volition, reaches out and closes over her breast, through the thin cotton of her shirt. You squeeze, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh. They’re soft. Softer than you assume. You knead, fondling the yielding mound, and Somi lets out a small, involuntary moan, a pathetic, muffled sound that vibrates against your fingertips.

Encouraged, or perhaps driven by something darker, you grip the hem of her shirt and tug it upwards, over her head. It’s a clumsy, quick motion, revealing her chest. Her breasts are already spilling over the lace edges of her bra, full and ripe. Without hesitation, you reach behind her and unhook the clasp, the plastic clicking open with a sharp sound in the quiet. The bra falls away, and her breasts, pale and heavy, are fully exposed.

A primal urge takes hold. You begin to play with them, your hands roaming over the smooth skin, groping and pulling, your thumbs circling her nipples, teasing them into hard buds. You repeat the circular motion, again and again, a hypnotic rhythm that feeds the growing tension in your groin.

"Fuck it," you breathe, another dry laugh rasping in your throat. "I can’t believe I’m actually doing this." The absurdity of the situation crashes into you for a fleeting moment.

Memories flicker in your mind – images of childhood games in the backyard, of late-night arguments over shared snacks, of sharing secrets whispered under the covers. Somi, your sister, the girl who used to play with your hair for fun and steal your candy. The contrast is jarring, sickening even. But your body, your treacherous body, has a different agenda.

Ignoring the ghost of shared history, you lean down, your mouth hovering over her smooth skin. With an act of transgression, you latch onto her brown nipple. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. You can’t stop now, not even if you wanted to.

You suck on Somi’s nipple, pulling and teasing, the sensation electrifying, forbidden. You taste her skin, a flavor you can’t quite place, something unfamiliar yet intimately connected to her. It’s salty, definitely salty, probably from sweat and the lingering remnants of her drink. But there’s also a sweetness, a subtle sugary note that plays on your tongue. Or maybe you’re just imagining it, your senses heightened by the illicit nature of this act.

It doesn't matter. Lost in the sensation, you keep sucking, alternating between her left and right breast, your hands massaging and kneading the soft flesh, milking them almost, as if trying to extract every last drop of sensation.

Suddenly, Somi’s hands are on your head. At first, they’re tentative, fluttering weakly against your scalp. But then, her fingers clench, digging into your hair, pulling with a surprising strength. She moans again, louder this time, a drawn-out sound that vibrates in your very bones. Her body begins to writhe beneath you, a subtle shift at first, then more pronounced.

Her legs come up, clamping around your waist, her thighs tightening, a silent, involuntary embrace. Her feet kick against the couch cushions, a restless energy fluttering through her limbs. Noticing the reaction, a flicker of something – triumph, perhaps, or a twisted kind of validation – sparks within you.

"Do you like this, Somi?" you murmur against her breast. "Do you want more?" Her eyelids flutter open, revealing unfocused, glazed eyes. She looks at you, a hint of confusion in her gaze, and then, instead of words, a soft whimper escapes her lips. It’s not a protest, not exactly. It’s something else.

Somi’s scent, a heady mix of alcohol and something uniquely her, urges you onward. You lift your head from her breast and trail kisses down her neck, nibbling and sucking at the soft flesh, feeling the pulse jump beneath your lips. Your hands roam lower, across her soft, slightly rounded tummy, towards her waist. You lift her hips slightly, your fingers finding the curve of her ass beneath her skirt.

The fabric is thin, offering little resistance as you squeeze her firm buttocks, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. This time, the whimper is replaced by something sharper, louder. "Wait, fuck…" she curses, her voice thick with sleep and confusion. "What the… what are you doing?" her voice is laced with a growing alarm.

You ignore Somi’s mumbled question, her words slurring slightly, and your hands tighten their grip on her bare breasts. “What…?” she starts to ask again, but you cut her off, your mouth descending to her stomach. You press kisses across her warm skin, the taste of her faintly sweet, before your tongue dips into her navel.

As you swirl your tongue around its depths, Somi’s back arches off the couch with a sharp groan. “Ahh…!” she protests weakly, a confused sound in her voice.

But beneath the protest, you feel the tremor in her body, the involuntary ripple of her muscles as she writhes against the weird, wet slide of your tongue. Her hands come up to your shoulders, gripping them, not pushing you away, but holding on as her body reacts in ways her words don't seem to understand.

Driven by a mounting excitement, you move your kisses lower, the line of her pelvis coming into focus. "Wait," Somi murmurs, but it’s barely audible. You’re already working on the button of her skirt, fingers fumbling with the clasp in your eagerness. With a snap, it gives way, and you roughly yank the fabric down, bunching it around her thighs, then off her legs completely.

You straighten up, her skirt now discarded on the floor, and you place her legs over your shoulders, spreading them wide. Her breath hitches, and a louder grunt escapes her lips as she instinctively tries to clamp her thighs shut. Her hands, still clumsy, reach down, attempting to shield her clothed pussy. “Stop, just… stop,” she mumbles, but her words are weak, unconvincing.

You slap her hands away from between her legs, the sound echoing in the quiet room, leaving her exposed. “Shhh,” you hush her, your voice low. “Don’t be shy, sis. We’re siblings, remember?” You gesture to the darkening stain spreading across the crotch of her panties. “Besides, you’re drunk. It’s okay. You want this, I know you do.”

You become rougher, your fingers hooking into the elastic waistband of her panties. There’s a sharp ripping sound as you tear the fabric apart, the thin material giving way easily. You pluck away the remaining tattered pieces, tossing them aside, leaving her completely bare. “See?” you say, your voice laced with a predatory satisfaction. “Nothing to hide.”

The scent of Somi’s arousal hits you full force, a heady musk that’s intoxicating, like a potent drug. It compels you, driving you to plunge your face directly into her exposed vulva. Her pussy is slick with her own juices, and the aroma is even stronger up close. You lick from the base of her swollen folds all the way up to her hard, throbbing clitoris, savoring every inch of her.

With each slow, deliberate lap of your tongue, you gulp in her flavor, the salty-sweet tang of her arousal filling your mouth. Somi gasps, her eyes fluttering open, wide and unfocused. A moan escapes her lips, soft at first, then growing louder, more desperate. “Please…” she whispers, her voice breaking, repeating the word again, “Please… please…”

Ignoring her plea, you continue to feast on her, your tongue relentlessly working her clit. You suck on the sensitive bud, drawing it deep into your mouth, slurping up every drop of juice she unknowingly produces. Her erratic moans and groans are music to your ears, confirming you’re doing exactly what her drunk body craves.

Holding her hips firmly in place with one hand, you suck her clit harder, then slide two fingers deep inside her wet pussy, curling them upwards against the sensitive walls. Somi’s back arches even higher, her ass lifting entirely off the couch as if she’s trying to grind herself against your mouth and thrusting fingers.

Her moaning intensifies, becoming higher-pitched, more needy, almost frantic. One hand presses against her stomach, flexing and unflexing, while the other hand clenches the edge of the couch, her knuckles white. Her breathing is ragged pants now, each inhale and exhale shuddering through her.

Lost in the intoxicating taste and feel of her, you barely register the shift until it’s undeniable. Somi grunts, her body tensing, and then a choked-off swear word bursts from her lips. A moment later, her orgasm explodes, her nectar suddenly flooding your mouth in a rush of warm, thick liquid.

You greedily drink as much as you can, slurping up the rest as her body shudders violently, then gradually stills. Her breathing remains heavy, ragged, but the tension slowly drains away. Her eyes are still half-lidded, blinking slowly at the ceiling, unfocused and glazed over.

You sit upright between her legs, pulling her closer until her thighs straddle your waist. Your own cock is throbbingly hard and it twitches insistently right in front of her wet, pink entrance. You chuckle, a low, satisfied sound. “Wow, look at you,” you say, gesturing to the slickness between her legs. “You came hard. Guess you had your fun, huh? Now it’s my turn.”

She slowly looks down at you, her expression still hazy, but then, surprisingly, a giggle bubbles up from her throat. She reaches down and her fingers close around her own breasts, giving them a soft, distracted rub, her eyes still drifting.

You watch as, with a languid movement, she cups her breasts, fingers kneading and teasing, her thumbs circling and flicking over her taut nipples, bringing them to hard peaks. A low moan escaped her lips, mixing with your faint breathing. Then, a shift in posture. She hooks her hands beneath her knees, pulling them abruptly upwards, her thighs parting wide, an unapologetic display. Her legs frame the thin triangle at her core, slick and glistening even presented to you like a forbidden offering.

A laugh bubbles up from your chest. "Holy shit, sis," you manage, your voice a little breathless, a mix of shock. "Are you...are you actually into this right now?" Your older sister’s eyes, heavy-lidded with drink, meet yours, a flicker of something mischievous dancing within their depths. She bites down on her lower lip, a playful tug that accentuates its fullness, and a giggle, soft and throaty, escapes.

"Mmm," she hums, her gaze drifting down your body before returning to your eyes. "You've got a nice cock, you know that?" Her words are slurred but clear, each syllable deliberately laced with invitation. "And I think," her voice dropping to a whisper, "you totally need to put it inside my pussy."

The blatant filth dripping from your sister’s usually prim lips ignites something. A hot rush floods your groin. Without a second thought, your hand clamps around your already hardening shaft, the throbbing vein beneath your fingers pulsing with anticipation. You take a step closer, the couch looming, and you smack your engorged cock against the wet folds of her vulva. The sound is wet and resonant, echoing in the quiet room.

Somi’s breath hitches, a gasp turning into a drawn-out moan as the contact sends jolts of pleasure through her. Her body arches off the couch cushion, her hips bucking instinctively against your hand. The slick pre-cum and her own juices splatter outwards, glistening on her thighs and the velvet of the couch.

"Okay then, sis. I'm gonna fuck you now." You straddle her legs, parting them further with your knees, positioning yourself above her exposed core. With agonizing slowness, you guide the swollen head of your cock to the entrance of her slick, warm pussy, feeling the velvety soft lips part to receive you. Then, in one controlled motion, you push forward, sinking into her depths.

Her breath catches again, a sharp intake that quickly turns into a sigh of pure sensation as you slide deeper, the tight walls of her sheath gripping you like a hot glove. You grip her hips, anchoring her as you begin to move, driving forward with a slow thrust. Somi’s back arches even further, her breasts lifting towards the ceiling, straining against their own weight.

Her head throws forward as she tries to steal a glimpse of your cock disappearing deep inside her stretched pussy. You pause at the deepest point, holding yourself there for a heartbeat, savoring the fullness, the intimate pressure, the feeling of being buried inside her. Pulling back just until the tip is still nestled inside her, you slam forward again, burying yourself to the hilt.

A groan escapes her lips, her sweaty body rippling with the force of the impact, her muscles clenching around you in response. You repeat the rhythm, each thrust deeper and harder than the last, fucking your older sister with a growing urgency, your hands gripping her waist, pulling her towards you, meeting each of your deep, hard thrusts with an equally frantic upward lift of her hips.

Somi’s breasts bounce wildly, swaying up and down unevenly, the fleshy mounds jiggling with each powerful stroke, the underside of your balls slapping against the soft crack of her ass with a rhythmic thud. The sounds of your bodies colliding fill the room, punctuated by her escalating moans and your own ragged breaths.

"Oh, fuck," Somi mumbles drunkenly, words thick with pleasure, her hands now clutching at your shoulders, digging into your muscle. "It's so deep," she gasps, "fuck me harder, please."

The raw desperation in her voice is intoxicating. Driven by her pleas and the mounting intensity within you, you snap your hips harder, the pace quickening, the friction building. You lean down, burying your face in the curve of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin, hot and flushed and intoxicating, and whisper against her ear, "If I go any harder, sis, I might just cum inside you and get you pregnant."

Of course, Somi was too far gone to grasp the implications of your words. Her mind was lost in the swirling vortex of pleasure. She just kept mumbling incoherently, her only coherent plea being, "fuck me harder… it's so good… I’m… almost… cumming…" Her toes curled inwards, digging into the couch cushion, and her hands clutched at your back, her nails lightly raking against your skin. Her tits were squished against your chest, their soft weight a delicious friction as your nose inhaled the intoxicating scent from the crook of her neck.

Your breathing grew shallow and rapid, your body straining with the effort to prolong this forbidden bliss. But Somi wasn't holding back any longer. Her movements stilled, her body suddenly going rigid beneath you. A silent wave of tension washed over her, replaced in moments by a shuddering release. You didn't need her to say a word; you felt it instantly, a hot, pulsing sensation as her orgasm flooded down around your pistoning cock, her inner muscles clenching and spasming in rhythmic waves.

The realization that you were fucking your own older sister raw, the echo of her voice begging for more, the wet, slick feel of her orgasm enveloping your cock – it all coalesced into an overwhelming wave of sensation. You reached your own precipice, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Separating your face from her neck, you dropped down, latching onto one of her swollen nipples with your mouth, biting down hard just as you slammed your cock deep, deep inside her canal.

Spurt after spurt of scalding semen erupted inside Somi's pussy, filling her with your forbidden seed. She cried out, a muffled sound as she gripped your hair, pressing your face harder into her boob, her fingers tangling in your locks. You huffed against the soft mound of her breast, every muscle in your body clenched tight, riding the peak of your orgasm. Slowly, languidly, you rolled your hips, prolonging the blissful, taboo-laden experience as your cum continued to pulse inside her.

The aftermath of your release hangs heavy in the air, thick with the scent of sex. You pull back from your older sister, the squelch of your dick leaving her wet depths echoing in the sudden silence that descends now that your ragged breaths are slowing. You shift back onto the plush cushions of your worn-out couch, the withdrawal making your cock feel strangely cold against the air.

A thick glob of your cum oozes from her folds, a pearly trail tracing a path downwards, a rivulet heading towards the shadowed cleft of her untouched asshole. Somi is completely still, lost in the deep abyss of drunken slumber. Her head lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the couch fabric, her breathing shallow and even. Naked and vulnerable, she's laid out, a tableau of post-coital abandon.

A question claws at the edge of your consciousness – will she even remember any of this tomorrow? The thought flits through your mind, quickly followed by a surge of guilt and a thrill of illicit excitement. You’re breathing hard, chest heaving, your gaze fixed on her unconscious form. The soft rise and fall of her chest is mesmerizing, the curve of her body smooth and inviting in the dim light filtering through the blinds.

Then, the weight of reality crashes down on you, solid and undeniable. This happened. You actually went there. You fucked your sister. And not just a quick fumble, but a full-blown, unprotected creampie situation in her womb. There's no erasing it, no taking it back.

A low chuckle wheezes up from your throat, tinged with disbelief. "Fucking crazy," you mutter under your breath. You lean closer to Somi, a whisper inches from her ear. "You liked that, didn't you? You enjoyed that as much as I did, right?" Silence is her only reply, her peaceful slumber undisturbed by your whispered question.

Even in the aftermath, even with the dampness cooling on your skin, your cock refuses to fully submit. It throbs with a semi-erection, a persistent reminder of the pleasure you just experienced, and a blatant demand for more. Her nakedness, the lingering scent of her arousal, it’s all too potent. You can't deny the pull, the urge to dive back in.

Carefully, you slide off the couch, your bare feet padding softly on the worn carpet. You reach for Somi, gently looping her arm around your neck, her limp weighing on you. Then, you bend down, slipping your other arm under her knees, scooping her up in a bridal carry. She’s heavier than you expected, loose and pliant in your arms. You carry her through the narrow hallway to the spare room, the one you usually leave empty for nothing in particular it seems, until now. You reach the bed, a simple mattress on a frame, and gently toss her onto it.

A soft groan escapes her lips as she lands, rolling onto her side, facing away from you. You climb onto the bed beside her, the mattress dipping under your weight. With a hand on her hip, you turn her back towards you, then gently lift her up onto her knees, her ass rising invitingly in the air. Her upper body, still heavy with sleep, falls forward onto the mattress, her breasts spilling out, nipples brushing against the sheet.

You kneel behind her, your own cock stirring with renewed vigor, the sight of her presented ass sending a jolt of lust through you. You press yourself against her, rubbing your semi-hard cock against her wet entrance, feeling it thicken and lengthen with each passing second.

“You shouldn’t have gotten so drunk and come here, Somi,” you murmur into her hair, the words more for yourself than her. “You know that, right?” You nip at the nape of her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat. “And you know you liked getting fucked by your brother. Don’t even try to deny it.” Your voice is filled with the need to possess her. “One round isn’t going to cut it, sis. Not after this. I’m going to fuck you until my cock is sore and limp. Until you wake up and realize what we did.”

Consequences be damned. You’ll deal with the fallout, the inevitable chaos, when it comes. Right now, all that matters is this moment, this chance to feast on your older sister, to brand her with your mark until she’s fully sober and forced to confront the reality of what’s happening.

With that thought burning in your mind, you grind yourself against her hips, and thrust forward, penetrating her slick pussy from behind, driving yourself deep, right to the hilt. Somi lets out a muffled gasp, a sound that could be pleasure, could be protest, lost in the moment as you begin to move.

[darksigns-exe]

it's delicate - noah sebastian x f!reader

warnings: swearing, fingering (f receiving) oral sex (f receiving) protected intercourse

word count: 4k

note: a little continuation of this thing that i combined with a request from @somebodyels3 hope this comes close to what you had in mine <3

masterlist | taglist sign-up

The party around you buzzes. 

It’s the end of the year – New Year’s Eve – and everyone is here. The band's place is stuffed full of all of your friends. You’ve had a drink or two already, just to curb the bubbling anxiety that has settled in your belly. 

These things aren’t for you, but at the same time you like seeing everyone. You haven’t seen some of these people in ages, and really it is nice to see some familiar faces again. 

You’ve only seen Noah for a moment. 

Things between you have been interesting since the encounter. Noah has kept a little more distance and while it had stung at first, you’re somewhat glad that he had taken that step. Getting that close to him had ignited a few feelings you had been very happy to ignore so far. Having a little bit of forced distance between you had given you time to reevaluate how you feel. Unfortunately, you had always come back to the same conclusion. 

The things you feel for him are just a little bit more than friendship. 

You can’t tell where he stands on the matter, but there’s a small part of you that hopes that he feels somewhat similar. 

You’re ripped from your thoughts by the sounds of commotion in the kitchen. 

The source seems to be an animated discussion between Folio and someone you can’t immediately recognise. It distracts you enough for Noah to be able to sneak up on you. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, sidling up next to you. 

“What’s he up to?” he asks, trying to get a glimpse at whatever is happening. 

“I have no idea.” you reply. 

You can barely make out Folio, and you honestly have no idea of what they’re debating. All you can tell is that it clearly isn’t entirely serious. 

“You wanna head upstairs with me? I have something I’ve wanted to show you for a while.” 

If he hadn’t sounded so earnest and things between you hadn’t been so off you would have made a joke out of it. Instead, you quietly follow up to his room. 

You know that he’s been looking for a place of his own, but seeing boxes stacked in his room still takes you a little aback. 

“Did you find a place?” you ask, pushing past some of the boxes so that you can sit down on his bed. 

The room feels so much colder than it usually does. 

Something about this feels odd. 

“I did. That’s what I wanted to show you.” he pulls up a page on his computer, motioning for you to join him, “I know you’ve been having issues with your landlord so – there’s a spare room that could be yours if you want it.” 

You sit on his desk chair and start to scroll through the listing. 

The place is stunning. 

Central, but in an area that feels like an actual neighbourhood. The rooms are spacious, and flooded with light. The living room is gorgeous, the kitchen looks to be newly renovated too. You know that Noah has already put so much thought into this, and really it’s a tempting offer. Maybe you would be less hesitant if it hadn’t been for that encounter.

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course.” he gives you that pretty smile of his, “It’s just an offer. It’s closer to where you work, too, just in case that influences your decision-making process.” 

A small part of you wonders if that is part of why he settled on that apartment in particular. 

“While I have you up here, I think we should talk about something else.” Noah continues. 

You shoot him a questioning look, even though you already have a vague idea of what he wants to discuss. 

“When I came over to your place and you — got me off?” you give him a nod, prompting him to continue, “I didn’t want it to make things weird between us. And I think in trying to give you space, I made it weird. I’m sorry about that.”

“To be fair, I took a step back too.” you reply, “Let’s just forget about the whole thing.” 

Noah cocks his head to the side, “The whole thing? What if I don’t want to forget about it.” 

You swallow a breath. 

You can’t deny that you’ve been thinking about it a lot. The way he had looked up at you with tear stained eyes had seared itself into your brain. The visual of him thrust into your hand with nothing but pleasure had played on repeat in your mind. 

“I don't think that you want to forget about it either, hm?” Noah squats down in front of you, “I can’t stop thinking about how good you made me feel.”

He brings a hand to your knee, thumb gently caressing your bare skin. 

You force yourself to look at him. 

His eyes are so soft, and there’s nothing that tells you that he’d be upset if you’d ask him to stop this. He waits patiently for you to make your move, quietly watching you with a curious expression. 

You bring a hand to the side of his face. Noah leans into your touch, practically melting at the warmth of your palm.  

“What about everyone downstairs?”

“They’ll be busy for at least another hour. We have plenty of time. And if we miss the countdown, we’ll just say that I wasn’t feeling good, and you stayed with me.” 

He removes your hand from his cheek, and presses a kiss to the backs of your knuckles. 

He rises back up to full height, your hand still grasped in his. 

You let him pull you up from the chair. 

Noah mirrors your earlier motion and places a soft hand against your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?”

The words just won’t come to you. The nod you offer seems to be satisfactory to him, though. Noah moves in so slowly, giving you plenty of time to move out of the way. 

The first touch of his lips against yours is so soft and chaste. You hadn’t thought about what kissing him would feel like. But when you feel the gentle brush of his lips against yours, you never want to miss it again. His hand remains on your cheek, keeping you close to him. In return, your arms wrap around his middle. 

Noah’s free hand comes to rest at the small of your back, and you can feel him toying with the tie that keeps your dress together. 

When you finally part, your head spins with the lack of air. 

“Sit down for me, will you?” he says softly. 

His hands slowly drift away from you when you take a step back to sit on the edge of his bed. A moment later, Noah sinks to his knees in front of you. He moves to take off your shoes, placing them somewhere off to the side. 

“Nothing you don’t want will happen. You can stop this at any point.” he says quietly, “We’ll only go as far as you want.”

You try your best to focus on the soft brush of his fingers against your calf, instead of the bubbling anxiety in your belly. 

It’s always like this. 

You want this – him – but when it gets to it, the anxiety to do well overwhelms you. 

“Hey.” Noah gives a gentle squeeze to your thigh, “Everything okay? You’re looking a little lost.” 

The concern on his face is unlike anything you’ve seen from him. You know that he cares deeply for his people, you included, but this feels different. 

“Just a little nervous.” 

“Don’t have to be nervous, sweetheart. I promise I’ll take good care of you. This is not the first time you’re doing this, right?” 

You shake your head. 

Maybe not the first time, but your anxieties had limited your experience quite a bit. More than a few partners had headed home again without seeing any kind of action after you’d gotten too into your head to enjoy it. 

“Okay. Can I do something to make this better for you?”

You look down at him, finding only comfort and warmth in his eyes. 

“Can you tell me what you’re doing? I keep trying to anticipate what’ll happen and –” 

“Takes you right out of the mood, huh? Well, we can’t have that. I’ll tell you exactly what I’m doing. All you have to do is lie back and feel good. Sound good?” 

You give him a nod in return. 

“Has anyone ever eaten you out?” his voice is surprisingly calm considering the nature of his question. 

“Just once, but – it didn’t seem like he enjoyed it.” 

Noah scoffs, shaking his head. 

His voice turns so awfully soft when he finally speaks up again, “Will you let me show you how good it can be? For both parties?”

“Will you?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, “Do you want to stay like this or do you want to lie back?”

“Like this is okay.” 

“Good, if something feels off, let me know. No hesitation. I want this to be good for you.” another kiss to the inside of your thigh, a little higher this time, “Do you want to keep your dress on?”

“Is that okay?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with. If you want to keep it on, that’s okay. You wanna push up your hips for me?” 

You do as he asks, allowing him to take your panties off. He’s careful, slowly sliding them down your thighs. 

“Put on something cute before you came here, huh? Got all dressed up just for me.” he speaks more to himself than anyone else. 

His hands roam across your thighs, giving gentle pressure to make you part them. 

“Spread your legs a little, darling.” when you’ve made enough room for him, he continues, “I’m gonna touch you now, just with my fingers.” 

His fingers slowly trail up your thigh. His touch is feather-light, barely there. You hold your breath when he reaches your centre. The tips of his fingers brush through your folds, until they catch at your clit. You gasp when he circles his fingers across the bundle of nerves. 

“Don’t be shy, darling. Let me hear your pretty sounds.” 

He keeps up the slow, gentle touch for a good while. Occasionally, his fingers drift a little lower, swiping through your folds again. With every pass, his focus shifts towards your entrance. You try your best to focus on him, but it’s already so hard to keep your eyes open. 

Noah gives you another warning before he begins to tease the tip of one of his fingers into you. 

He takes his time working his finger into you. The slow, teasing touch makes you gasp out loud. And, as his finger sinks deeper into you, you let yourself fall back against the mattress. 

“There you go, baby. Does that feel good?” Noah asks softly.

You whine out a yes, but Noah doesn’t seem to be very happy with that. 

“Words.” He says then, sounding almost a little taunting. 

His fingers still, as he waits for your response, eyes fixed on your face so very expectantly. 

“Feels good. Feels so good.” you choke out. 

“That’s it. Gonna let me get a taste of your pretty little pussy?” 

“Y-yes.” 

He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, “Thank you.”

Noah removes his finger again and a moment later, you feel him trailing a barely there line of kisses up your thigh. And then you finally feel his lips pressing against your folds. 

At first, it’s a soft little kiss, but then you feel the tip of his tongue dragging through your folds. He moves so slowly, that you feel like you could stop him so easily if it becomes too much.  

You shift yourself upwards, in the attempt to get a glimpse at him. And when you look down, Noah meets your glance with the softest look. 

You feel him smile against you, before he pulls away just so. 

“Still feeling okay?” He asks. 

This time, your nod is enough for him. 

Noah quickly dives back between your thighs, burying his face there once again. He’s so careful with it. There’s something devotional about it. His attention is entirely on you and your pleasure. 

You bring a hand into his hair, remembering how he had shuddered last time. 

Noah lets out a sigh in response, but shows no sign of wanting to remove himself. In fact, you think that he sinks even deeper into you. You can just make out the flutter of his lashes against his cheeks as he continues his efforts. 

He gives a first experimental suck to your clit before he pulls away again. 

“Think you’ll be okay with my fingers inside?” 

“I want to try.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, “Just keep making those pretty sounds for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

He keeps his focus on you while he eases his pointer finger back into you. When you give him no sign of discomfort, he returns his lips to your core. 

Noah gives the softest little kitten licks to your clit, drawing whine after whine from you. As overwhelming as it feels, you just can’t tear your eyes away from him. 

Soon enough, he starts to work a second finger into you. The stretch of it makes you sigh, and the grip of your hand tightens in his hair. And in turn, you’re rewarded with a moan from Noah. 

The careful curl of his fingers, mixed with the steady licks he gives to your folds, drags you closer and closer towards your climax. 

“Noah.” you choke out, making him look up at you. 

“Getting close?” he asks, “You wanna cum for me? Let me hear how pretty you sound when you fall apart for me?”

You can only give him a desperate nod in reply. 

“That’s it baby. You’re so tight around my fingers. I bet you’d feel so good around my cock.” you don’t understand how he sounds so unaffected by all of this, when you feel as if you’re about to be torn apart, “Come on, let me feel you. You’re so close, aren’t you?” 

You’re right at the edge of it, but something is still holding you back. You let out a whine, hoping that it’s enough to tell him that you need more. 

“Aw need a little more, sweetheart? That needy little pussy just can’t get enough, hm?” 

He brings his thumb towards your clit. The slow circles he draws there, are enough to push you over the edge. You feel yourself clenching around his fingers, as you cry out in pleasure. You’re suddenly so very glad that the music playing downstairs is loud enough to disguise the sounds you’re making. 

Noah works you through your climax with practised ease. The gentle praise he showers you with only makes you feel dizzier. 

Eventually, his fingers slow until he stills entirely. 

“You did so good for me.” he says softly, “I’m gonna pull out my fingers, okay?”

You give him a nod. 

Your breath catches in your throat when he pulls his fingers from you. His fingers immediately dip between his lips. His eyes fall shut again, and he lets out a pleasured hum. 

“Noah?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

His eyes fly up to meet yours, “Hm?” 

“I want you.” “You just had me, sweetheart.” Noah says with a smirk.

“All of you.” 

“All of me?” the smirk fades into something you can quite identify. 

He rises up to his feet and for a moment, you think that he’ll turn around and leave. But instead, Noah leans down to you, placing a hand against your cheek. 

“I’m going to kiss you now. Is that okay?” 

Your heart is beating at a thousand miles a minute. Since the evening when you’d gotten him off, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. 

“Please, Noah.” 

His lips meet yours just a split second later. And before you know it, you find yourself on your back, with Noah hovering above you. 

You bring your hand into the hair at the back of his neck, to keep his lips on yours. 

One of his hands drifts up your thigh and under your dress. You feel his fingers digging into your waist. 

From your lips, Noah trails a line of kisses along your jaw and neck. You sigh when he sucks a pretty little mark into the skin of your neck. 

You try your best to tug his shirt out of his trousers, desperate to feel his skin beneath your fingers again. Noah seems to understand what you’re trying to do and quickly pulls his shirt off. He doesn’t return to you immediately, instead he moves to unbutton his trousers. You’re sure it’s just your imagination, but for a brief moment, you’re sure that his hands tremble just a little. He drops them onto his desk chair, together with his shirt, before he finally returns to you. 

You scoot back, making a little more space for him on the bed. Noah kneels between your parted thighs. You let your eyes wander across his mostly bare body. His chest heaves with quick breaths. You can’t deny the bubbling anxiety in your belly, either. 

Taking this step could change everything between you.  

You bring your hand to his waist, to guide him back to you. 

Noah meets you in another quick kiss, before he sits up again. 

“Can I take this off?” he asks, playing with the hem of your dress. 

As much as you want to seize up, you have to feel his hands on your body. And so you give him a nod. 

Noah helps you sit up, allowing him to take off your dress. You don’t care where it lands because as soon as your body is bared to you, his lips are back on your neck. His hands roam across your body, and now you’re actually able to feel the tremble of his hands. 

Noah kisses his way across your chest, grazing his teeth against your collar bones. You bring a hand between your bodies, pressing your palm against the bulge in his boxers. Noah’s forehead instantly drops to your shoulder. The groan he lets out makes you shiver. 

“Careful, baby.” he sounds so breathless already, “Don’t wanna finish before I’m inside you.” 

He shuffles out of his boxers, finally giving you a proper view of him. 

“Hurry up then.” You say, once again reaching out for him. 

Noah manages to catch your hand in his before you get a chance to catch him. 

“Don’t get impatient now. You’ve been so good until now.” 

He leans over to his night stand and pulls open the top drawer. Somehow you hadn’t thought about protection until now, but you’re glad that he did. 

“Better to be safe.” He notes as he tears open the package. 

Noah leans back over you, dipping down to steal a kiss from you. 

“Ready?”

You nod, bringing your hands to his waist. 

Noah remains focused on your face for a moment longer, before he looks down to where he’s working the head of his cock into you. 

The focused furrow in his brow makes you wonder if he’s struggling to keep himself composed. He takes his time with it, slowly working his length into you. 

Your hand remains on his waist, trying to steady both of you. 

“Oh—fuck.” His head drops against his chest, “You feel so fucking good.”

You wrap your arms around his body, gently coaxing him back down to you. Noah drapes himself across your body, burrowing his face against your neck. 

You feel his breath against your skin. He’s still for a long moment, his body heavy against yours. The weight of him eases your worries. He’s warm and comforting, skin so much softer than you had imagined. 

The skin of his back twitches when you move your hands. 

He begins a slow, steady rhythm. He rocks against you, barely moving away from you. But it’s enough for you. His lips return to the side of your neck, leaving what you assume will be a rather prominent mark. 

He sighs out your name, whispering it against your skin. 

With every thrust, he picks up a little bit more movement. Noah still doesn’t allow a lot of distance between you, but with the extra bit of leverage, he manages to hit all the right spots. 

You’re not sure how long you’ll last. 

The intensity of the moment is quickly dragging you towards your climax. Your belly already feels so taught. 

You can’t tell where his body ends and yours begins. 

Your name is a prayer on his breath. You’ve long given up on trying to form actual words. Between the moans and sighs that fall from your lips, you barely manage to utter his name. 

Your fingers dig into his back. Noah gasps against your skin. You swear that you feel teeth scraping against your bare shoulder. 

It’s a slow unravelling. 

Your climax hits you in slow waves, dragging you under like a current. Noah stills above you. You feel him release into the condom with a quiet gasp. His breath fans out against your skin. 

He stays where he is for a long moment. 

Noah’s back rises and falls beneath your palms. A part of you wants to keep him close like this forever, but you know that you’ll have to face the people downstairs at some point.

Eventually, he begins to pull away from you. Your hands stay on his body as long as possible. But once he has sat up completely, you’re practically forced to let go of him. 

“I’ll be right back with you, sweetheart.” 

He gives a barely there squeeze to your waist just before he gets off the bed. 

You don’t have time to feel shy about being entirely bare, as Noah quickly returns to you. You find yourself scooped up in his arms. Before you know it, he’s wrapped all around you again, this time with his chest pressed up against your back. 

There’s so much you want to say, but you just don’t know where to start. 

Noah’s arm snakes around your middle, somehow pulling you closer against him. You wrap your hand around his. 

He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“So about that room –” you say quietly, scared to disturb the mood.  

“It’s yours if you want it.” 

“Gonna make me sleep in the spare room, huh?” 

You hope that you haven’t read too much into all of this. Every little touch is still embedded in your mind. The way he had looked at you is burned into your brain. And in that moment, all you hope for is that you’re not the only one who feels like this. 

“Can you look at me?” he says and is voice is so unexpectedly soft then, “Please.” 

Noah eases his hold on you enough for you to turn around. 

His brow is furrowed so faintly, “Would you want me like that?” 

“Noah.” 

“Please – I need to know.”

Just like you had done at the beginning of the night, you place your hand against his cheek, “Of course I do.” 

The corners turn up into the faintest beginning of a smile, before he dips down for a kiss. 

“Does that mean that I can call you mine?” 

The barely there nervousness makes your chest ache a little. 

“Only if I can call you mine too.” 

He breaks into that pretty smile of his, “I think this might be the best start into a new year so far.” 

And really, you can’t disagree with him.

The party downstairs is long forgotten. The important thing is right here in front of you. And as selfish as it feels, you’re glad that you have him all to yourself in that moment because truth be told, this has been a long time coming. 

Eventually, you hear the fireworks, but neither of you moves even a muscle. You stay here, wrapped up in your own little moment, wholly entranced by each other. And for the first time, you realise that he’s been yours for a while, just like you’ve been his for just as long. 

All it took was a little nudge.

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

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@rumoured-whispers@cheyyyyr@mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland

[myloveer0]

''Dream at first lust''

(Ambessa x reader NsFw)😭🥵❤️

18+ Read it at your own risk!

---Imagine waking up in the middle of the night, only to find Ambessa standing before you. What would you do?---

Note: I decided to write this because of my love and obsession with Queen Ambessa. This idea suddenly came out of my brain randomly and i went full lock on with it. Need to contribute for more Ambessa fics! asap!!

(This is not perfect and might encounter typos)

Part I

“Ugh… Mhmm… F*ck!” A deep groan escaped your lips as waves of satisfying pleasure washed over you. Your shoulders tensed involuntarily, and your breath hitched. You set your phone down on the bed and stared at the dark ceiling of your apartment, feeling satisfaction and incredulous act you had indulged in for days.

You raise your finger, feeling the sleek wetness of your release coating it. Are you being ridiculous? Where has your dignity gone? With a chuckle, when it comes to this woman all that dignity seems to disappear and unexisting.

It has been days and weeks as you found yourself endlessly replaying Ambessa's provocative TikTok videos and delving into tantalizing online fiction. Each new glimpse of her stirred a primal desire within you, pushing you further to the edge. Now, you watched another viral video of her, found yourself losing control. In an intoxicating haze of desire, your pants disappeared and you already coming and succumbed to overwhelming pleasure.

“W-why aren’t you real?” you whimpered, staring at your phone. On the screen, Ambessa was smiling; it was the scene from the final episode before the fight with Mel and Caitlyn. You stared at it, her captivating smile radiating. She embodied beauty, exuding a deep, masculine and feminime energy that drew you in like a moth to a flame. It was an intoxicating obsession, one that left you yearning for something just out of reach. It was a frustrating and a heartbreaking feeling.

You let out a long, heavy breath and shook your head, sinking deeper into the comfort of your pillow. It wasn’t the first time your mind had wandered back to her—ever since you finished watching Arcane, she’d been all you could think about. Ambessa Medarda: the Matriarch of War, the warlord, the stateswoman. Her presence was magnetic, powerful, and utterly inescapable.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop her from invading your thoughts. Not that you wanted to. You didn’t bother hiding your fascination, even from yourself. That's why you indulge yourself by watching her edits on tiktok and fanfiction available you can find anywhere in the internet just to fill the empty feeling on your heart. But it wasn’t enough. It never was.

Which always result to plessuring yourself. You’d close your eyes and imagine her—sweet yet commanding, masculine yet graceful, towering at six foot nine. The thought of her consuming you, taking you, using you as she pleased—it sent a shiver down your spine every time.

You rubbed your eyes, the weight of drowsiness settling over you. Glancing at the clock revealed it was already hitting midnight. You had planned to take a quick dip in the tub after losing yourself in yet another fantasy, hoping to wash away the lingering wetness that clung to your core.

You never liked sleeping that way—it left you feeling sticky and exposed—but tonight, exhaustion seemed determined to win. Your eyelids grew heavier with every passing moment, and the thought of dragging yourself to the bathroom felt impossible.

''Maybe in the morning…'' you whisper hazily, surrendering to the pull of sleep.

..

Thud!!

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of something heavy falling somewhere nearby. Your sleepy eyes stirred open, mind groggy and slow to catch up. The room was dark, broken only by a thin blade of moonlight cutting through the gap in the curtains. For a moment, you lay still, listening, your heart beating a little faster. You where the type of person who was sensitive to sound especially in the sleep. For a second, you wondered if you were just hearing it.

Reaching out blindly, you felt around for your phone, your hand fumbling over the sheets until your fingers brushed the cool surface of the screen. The glow of the display was harsh, making you squint as your tired eyes adjusted. 2:03 a.m.

You groaned softly, letting the face fall back onto the bed. “Too early for this,” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your face with a sigh.

Then it came again.

A sound.

You breath caught, your fingers tightening around the phone. As you immediately sat up in bed, but this time wide awake, ears straining against the silence hoping to hear any sound. Your pulse drummed in your ears now, faster, sharper. You weren't just imagining it.

You scanned the room, but darkness was all you could see. Your apartment's bedroom was a decent size, familiar down to the last detail; you knew every inch of it. There was nowhere for anyone to hide—except in the shadows. You were certain the sound had come from your room, not outside. But how? How could someone get in?

The apartment building wasn’t cheap, boasting heavy security at every turn. No one could enter without passing layers of surveillance, and your door required a fingerprint scan. If anyone had tried to force their way through, the alert would’ve blared instantly.

You told yourself it was nothing. Maybe the wind. Maybe something you'd left precariously balanced had finally tipped over. But no matter how hard you tried to rationalize it, your body didn’t believe it. Your breath was shallow, as though even the act of breathing too loudly might give yourself away.

The phone was still in your hand, but you clutched it like a lifeline, your thumb hovering over the screen. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, to do something.

Your chest tightened when you heard it again—a creak.

This time, there was no mistaking it.

It came really inside the room.

You froze.

Your breath caught halfway in your throat and eyes grew widen. That was when you saw it—just barely, a shadow in the darkness. A tall figure, not even a few feet from your bed. It was standing still, like staring at you.

Your chest tightened as panic surged through you, an icy wave that rooted your place. Your hands trembled violently as you raised your phone, fumbling for the flashlight. Your heart pounded so loudly you thought it might burst.

The beam of light sliced through the darkness, illuminating the figure—just for a second.

Before you could process what you saw, it lunged.

You didn’t even have time to scream. Your phone slipped from your hands, bouncing onto the bed as the weight of the figure crashed into you. The air was knocked from your lungs as you forced back, your body pinned against the mattress.

A muscular arm coiled around your neck while the other pressed against the bed beside you, trapping you beneath its weight. You gasped, trying to fight, but it was useless. The pressure on your chest and neck kept you still, every movement was a struggle. You tried to move your legs but it only use it's own legs to pin it back down. It was impossible to escape.

The sharp, metallic scent of sweat and something faintly unfamiliar hit your nose. Your hands clawed instinctively at the arm restraining you, but the grip only tightened. Your mind raced, desperate to make sense of what was happening. Afraid your gonna be hurt much more worse which is death. Will you die in bed? A shurde of horror travel in your skin..

"Don’t move," the voice hissed again, low and guttural, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

Your blood ran cold as the realization sank in—you were helpless. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your throat dry and tight as though it had been sealed shut. Your chest heaved, every breath against the arm pressing against my neck.

Fear consumed you, raw and paralyzing. Tears pricked your eyes, spilling over as you began to sob. Your voice came out broken, barely above a whisper.

“P-please… please don’t hurt me. You can have whatever you want. Take anything you want from me. M-money—if you want money I’ll give it you. Just—just please don’t hurt me!”

The grip on your neck tightened, cutting off the desperate words spilling from your mouth. Your heart pounded wildly as you gasped for air.

“What are you talking about?” the voice snapped, colder now, laced with impatience. “Where am i? what kind of place is this”

You froze. Confusion collided with fear, and for a moment, you couldn’t even process the question. The grip eased just enough for you to wheeze out a frantic, “I-I don’t know! What are you talking about?”

Then it hit you. The light. Your phone. It was still on the bed, the flashlight casting a faint glow against the dark. Your trembling hands fumbled blindly, desperate to grab it.

When the light finally landed on the figure above you, You froze again—this time in utter disbelief. Your eyes widened, every ounce of fear momentarily replaced by a surge of shock that rippled through your entire body.

It was a woman.

Not just any woman.

Her familiar face, her piercing eyes, the sharp lines of her jaw and the scars in her face—all of it was unmistakable. Your breath hitched as your mind reeled.

This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t possible.

It was her. Ambessa Medarda.

Flesh and blood, alive, and impossibly here in front of you. Even touching and pinning you down.

The woman you had dreamed of. The woman you had wanted.

For a moment, you forgot about the weight pinning you down, the fear that had gripped you moments ago. You could only stare at her, mind a chaotic swirl of disbelief, awe, and a lingering sense of stange excitement.

“A-ambessa...??” The name slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

Her eyes narrowed at the sound, sharp as daggers. She didn’t loosen her grip; instead, her forearm pressed harder against your throat.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice a low growl. “What is this place? How did you bring me here. Tell me—are you one of them? The Black Rose?”

Your head shook wildly desperate. “I’m not—I swear—please!” The words spilled out, choking as you clawed at her arm.

Ambessa’s lips curled into a sneer, her dark eyes piercing through you, scanning every inch of your body like a predator weighing its prey. There was something chilling in the way she looked at you— as if she was deliberating, assessing if you were a threat capable of fighting back. She was everything the woman you knew. No doubt.

The silence stretched, before she finally released her grip. Maybe realizing that you were just a helpless and weak woman. You staggered back, clutching your neck with trembling hands, your breaths ragged. A violent cough racked your chest as you struggled to refill your lungs, the imprint of her strength still burning into your skin.

Ambessa straightened her posture, exuding an air of quiet authority as her dark eyes scanned your place. She was fully alert and cautioned. The room was dim, offering little for her to see, but her presence seemed to fill every corner nonetheless.

You cursed under your breath, still shaken. She was impossibly strong—stronger than you’d imagined. Just with her bare hand can easily send you to your death effortlessly. You almost get choke to death to the woman you were lusting every night.

That moment of reprieve gave you the chance to really look at her, to take her in fully. She was massive, taller than anyone you’d ever seen, and built like she could crush stone with her bare hands. Broad shoulders, arms thick with muscle, every inch of her radiated strength.

Her skin was rich bronze, smooth in places but broken by scars that suit her more. Her wet silver curls fell freely over her shoulders, stray droplets trailing down the curve of her neck. Her perfect figure, lean and powerful, was wrapped in a red silk robe that clung to her like it was tailor-made to emphasize her dominance. She looks like she just got out of a bath. And was upset where she have gone into.

Your breath hitched as your eyes traced the elegant lines of her frame, and you cursed again under your breath, this time at your own weakness. She was breathtaking—hotter than anything your imagine. Seeing her in person didnt do no justice on what you saw on screen. She was impossibly attractive on how you see her.

Her brows frowned before your eyes met. Maybe she felt it—the intensity of your stare, the way you couldn’t look away. The way your gaze have the possibility to devour her.

Her gaze flickered downward, scanning you every inch of your body as you lay there on the bed. Her right brow raised. You shuddered under her scrutiny, your breath hitching in your chest just with her stare alone. God knew. How much the effect this woman can make you. Then, her eyes darted to the faint glow of your phone still lying on the bed.

Her expression changed in an instant, her lips parting slightly.

You followed her gaze, your stomach twisting in horror as you realized what she was looking at—your phone, the light still illuminating your screen.

Your heart stopped.

There, clear as day, was her. Ambessa Medarda. Smiling, confident, every inch the figure she was. Her image—your favorite image of her—boldly displayed on your wallpaper.

Your cheeks burned, humiliation spreading like wildfire through your body. Of all the times, of all the situations—this had to be the moment she saw it when she was right next to you in real life.

Her hand moved before you could react, snatching the phone from the bed.

“Wait!” you gasped, panic breaking through your embarrassment as you sat up abruptly, reaching for it. But Ambessa didn’t flinch.

With a casual motion, she placed her large hand on your shoulder and pushed you back. It wasn’t rough, but the effortles strength behind it was enough to send me stumble back onto the mattress.

The phone was now in her grasp, her sharp eyes scanning the screen. Inspecting the strange object in her hand with curiosity but cautionly.

Good thing she doesn't know what a phone is or else. It would be a death of you. But suddenly out of nowhere her finger swipe the screen. Your jaw dropped in disbelief.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart lurching as her finger effortlessly moved across the phone, the screen responding as if she’d done it a thousand times before. How could she know how to use it? Was it instinct, or was you just that unlucky? You just remember. You underestimate how intellegent this woman is. She wasn't a warlord for nothing.

You bolted upright, a panicked boldness taking over as you reached out, desperate to snatch it back before she saw anything else.. But before your hand could even graze hers.

“Stay...” Ambessa demanded. Her arm didn’t relent; her gaze bore into you, daring you to defy her.

The word rolled off her tongue, low, smooth, and dripping with something you couldn’t quite place— a hint of seduction that hit you like a lightning bolt.

You froze mid-motion, Your outstretched hand trembling as your body betrayed me. Your knees felt weak and fall back to the bed, your heart pounding not from fear this time but in heat. A warmth bloomed in your chest, sliding lower, pooling deep in my core. You bit down on your lip hard, trying to keep it together, but it was impossible to ignore the wave of hunger rushing through you. You felt ridicolous right now. How can you be horny in this kind of situation.

How could you not? This was all you have been dreaming about for weeks. This wasn’t fear. This was something darker, deeper, something you didn’t dare name.

You felt like a rotten tomato, shame washing over you as you realized—why haven't you put you a password on your phone. How could you be so careless? Your mind raced, imagining the photos, the bookmarks, all of it laid bare for her to see.

Ambessa’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, her eyes still fixed on the glowing screen. She turned the device over in her hands, examining it with an almost childlike curiosity, though her sharp expression was anything but innocent.

“Interesting…” Ambessa murmured, her voice thick with intrigue, her thumb brushing across the smooth glass again. “What kind of object is this, child?”

Her tone sent a shiver down my spine, the word child landing somewhere between teasing and commanding, making you feel both small and utterly exposed.

You swallowed hard, unable to form a single coherent word, your body tense as her gaze flicked back to you.

Ambessa looked at you like you had been caught red-handed, guilty in your act of pleasure. You couldn’t meet her eyes. You cant, in fear all the hunger, the desperation, the crumbling restraint you barely holding together. Instead, you dropped your gaze to the sheets, heat crawling up your neck.

Shit! Your mind screamed at you.

[nachrosas]

SUMMER NIGHTS | s.reid x reader

summary: in which you and Spencer dance in his kitchen on a summer night. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: fluff, just pure fluff word count: 898 a/n: hope you like it!

The warm scent of paprika wafted through the kitchen, mixing with the steam coming from the pot on the stove. The Spencer's apartment was silent, as always, except for the occasional clink of utensils against metal and the murmur of the radio, playing softly in the corner of the kitchen. You were absent-mindedly stirring the wooden spoon, feeling comfortable in the quiet routine that hung between you

Spencer stood behind you, both arms around your waist, his eyes roaming over the pages of a cookbook on the worktop next to the stove. One of his arms held you tighter against his body, as if protecting you from an invisible impulse. From time to time, you noticed his gaze straying from his reading, watching your movements with a silent interest, as if he were trying to catalog your every gesture.

Then the tune on the radio changed. The first chords of Stand By Me began to gently fill the room and, for a moment, everything began to slow down. Spencer lifted his eyes from the book and squeezed his waist slightly. You felt the change in the air before you even saw him move.

“I… can't dance very well. In fact, I can't dance at all, but… I want to try.”

The hesitation in his voice was almost palpable, a rare vulnerability hidden between the words. He let go of your waist and held out his hand to you, his fingers a little stiff, as if he wasn't entirely sure that this was an invitation he should make.

Your eyes slid from the pot to Spencer's outstretched hand, hesitating in the air between you. The proposal was somewhat unexpected, but there was something in the way he looked at you, that look of mixed nervousness and determination, that made it impossible to refuse the request. With a small smile, you wiped your hands on the tea towel and accepted the invitation.

His fingers closed gently around yours as he took an uncertain step, pulling you closer. The brief silence was completely filled by the sound of the music and the breathing between you. Spencer was trying to lead you, his concentration visible in his slightly frowning forehead. He was biting his lip, his eyes fixed on your feet, as if dancing with you was a complex equation.

The first movements were awkward, a clumsy swaying from side to side. Spencer clearly analyzed each step before executing it, as if trying to remember some hidden logic in the dance. But then, for a brief moment, he relaxed. His fingers clasped his with a little more confidence, his body adjusting better to the rhythm of the music.

And it was at that moment that he stepped on your foot.

The impact wasn't strong, but it was unexpected enough to make Spencer freeze. Wide eyes met yours, and for a second there was just a mutual, embarrassed silence. Then the laughter came. First yours, light and spontaneous, and then his, a little embarrassed but genuine.

“Sorry!” he muttered quickly, letting go of one of your hands as if he feared you might want to stop. But the smile on his face showed that he also found his own clumsiness funny. His cheeks flushed and he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that only made him look even more adorable.

“It's all right, Spence,” you assured him, still laughing, ”I think I can survive one or two wrong moves.

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders fading a little as he heard your words and a new smile appeared on his lips. “Well, if that's the case… can we try again?”

Spencer was still holding your hand, now a little more securely, even if the movements between you were no more than a clumsy swaying from side to side. There was no technique, no well-defined steps. Just a light movement to the rhythm of the music, as if the world had slowed down.

“Does that count as dancing?” you joked, smiling.

He let out a short laugh, relaxing his shoulders. “Technically, yes. Dancing is just a sequence of coordinated movements to the sound of a melody… even if, in our case, the coordination is totally questionable.”

“So you mean we're creating a new style?”

Spencer tilted his head, his eyes brimming with humor. “Contemporary improvisation, perhaps?”

The answer made you laugh, and he followed, the soft sound filling the space between you. Your fingers slipped through his and, without realizing it, Spencer let his hand slide to your waist, the touch light and instinctive. For a moment, the laughter subsided, and his gaze met yours. There was no rush there, no need for words, just the music playing in the background and the closeness that made his heart beat a little stronger.

The smell of food still hung in the air, but neither of you seemed to remember the stove being on. All that mattered to you was that moment; the subtle warmth of his hands against your skin, the lazy swaying to the sound of the song, the shy smile that still lingered on Spencer's lips.

And then, as if you woke up at the same time, you laughed again, complicit in the spontaneity of the moment. The dance was far from perfect, but somehow it felt right. A simple but precious memory. Something that would stay with you.

[bamgyuuuri]

hiii! can you please write smth about the reader loving soobin's sweaters and keeps wearing them?

are you taking anons? can I please be 🐰 anon?

⤷ sweater weather ┈ csb.

pairings and tags. boyfriend!soobin x reader . established relationship . fluff . soobin is basically whipped for reader . domestic fluff . affectionate teasing . soft intimacy

word count. 1.0k

short note … AAA thank you for this delicious req omg,, and yes, of course you can be 🐰 anon! hello!!! <3 i hope this is to your liking ><

you loved soobin's sweaters so damn much.

it wasn’t just the warmth they provided, though that was certainly a bonus. it was the way they made you feel—like you were wrapped in something safe and comforting, like his presence was surrounding you even when he wasn’t there.

there was something so undeniably soothing about slipping on one of his oversized sweaters, as though it was made for you to feel the exact comfort you craved. maybe it was the way the fabric molded to your body in all the right ways, or maybe it was the scent. his scent. a mix of his cologne, the subtle sweetness of coffee, and something deeper—something uniquely soobin. every time you breathed it in, it felt like a little piece of him was wrapped around you, making you feel like you were never really far from him.

whenever you visited his place, it became something of a ritual. you'd walk through his front door, and instantly, you’d be enveloped by the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and the faint, comforting smell of something sweet—likely from the kitchen, where soobin was either baking or preparing something for the both of you.

it was like his home was a place where time slowed down, where the chaos of the world didn’t exist. your eyes would immediately search for his closet in the corner of the room. the very sight of it was like discovering hidden treasure. every time, you felt like you were stepping into a secret world, where his clothes were yours to borrow and even take, and that small act felt almost like a love language of its own.

you’d walk straight to it, running your fingers over the soft fabrics until you found exactly what you were looking for—a sweater that would make you feel at home. it was always the same; his sweaters were oversized, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, the neckline wide and warm, the fabric rich with the memories of him.

without missing a beat, you’d pull it over your head, the softness of it immediately surrounding you like a gentle embrace. you’d stand there for a moment, letting it sink in, the feeling of being wrapped in his warmth, the softness of his scent still lingering on the fabric.

then, you’d walk into the living room to find soobin, his eyes always lighting up whenever he sees you. no matter how many times he’d seen you wearing his sweaters, the sight still seemed to captivate him every time. he’d pause whatever he was doing, usually with a book or his laptop, and give you that look—one that made your heart flutter, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

"again?" he’d ask, voice filled with that familiar warmth and amusement, though his eyes were soft, the affection in them unmistakable.

you’d smile at him, twirling slowly to show him how the sweater draped perfectly around you, and tease him with a playful grin. “you’re just too stylish, binnie. i can’t help myself.”

he’d laugh, shaking his head as his gaze softened even more. "i know. it suits you too well. i might need to start locking my closet."

but you both knew it wasn’t just about the clothes. there was something special about wearing his sweaters—it was as if his presence was intertwined with every fiber. it wasn’t uncommon for soobin to notice that one of his favorite sweaters was missing after you left. at first, he’d search his closet, his brow furrowing slightly, wondering if he’d misplaced it, or if maybe it had slipped behind the other clothes. he'd take a deep breath, running his fingers over the neatly folded clothes, but something always felt off. his favorite sweater, the one he’d worn just the day before, the one he’d shared with you on the couch, wasn’t there. a small, frustrated sigh would escape him as he thought to himself, where did it go?

but after a moment, a small smile would tug at soobin’s lips, and he’d shake his head. why was he even confused? it was always the same. he knew exactly where his sweaters had gone—they’d be with you. without fail, they always ended up on your shoulders, hanging loosely as you made your way back home.

"i think you’ve taken my favorite one again," he’d tease you once, his voice playful but there was something in the way his eyes lingered on you that made it clear he didn’t mind one bit.

you’d laugh, offering soobin that signature grin that always melted him. "well, you know," you'd say, shrugging in that casual way, "it looks better on me anyway."

soobin would chuckle softly, shaking his head, knowing you were probably right. even if you’d taken any of his sweaters yet again, it never really bothered him. if anything, he loved it. 

it wasn’t long before the scent of you became almost permanent in his sweaters. sometimes, when he was alone in his room, he’d reach for one of the now returned sweaters, the one you’d worn just a few days ago, and bury his face in the fabric, inhaling deeply, catching that familiar trace of you. and for a moment, he could pretend you were there, curled up next to him, watching a movie or reading together. it was his way of holding onto you, of staying close to you even when you weren’t physically there.

and though he’d never admit it, soobin had come to look forward to those small, sweet moments—when he’d find another of his sweaters missing, only to know exactly where it had gone. 

sometimes, he’d even find himself getting a little excited when he noticed one of them gone again. because he knew that when you came back, you’d always be wearing the fabric again, just like you always did, and it was a feeling he never wanted to give up.

taglist! @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu @usuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries @napipope-ta @bamgeutori @xylatox <3 (click here if you would like to be added !! ^^)

[melanated-writersblock]

Friends to lovers because THE STREETS NEED DAT!!!!😫 (me. I need dat. Expeditiously.) All Fluff! Blk Fem!Reader🫶🏾

Neighbor!Mingi who moved in next door to you over a year ago, and your first impression of him being him knocking on your door to introduce himself, SURE, but also to shazam the song you had playing on your TV.

Neighbor!Mingi who you got close to quick cause he’s just a cool guy. Weird? sure. A loser? Oh, absolutely. And you know what? Hell yeah.

Neighbor!Mingi who will enter your apartment through your fire escape window because “It makes life more exciting.” So whenever you host movie night you keep the window cracked so he doesn’t have to knock.

Neighbor!Mingi who will probably sleep through his alarms, so you wake him up so he’s not late for the subway to work (he misses it, you gotta drive him🥴).

Neighbor!Mingi who goes grocery shopping for HIS apartment but likes to cook in YOUR kitchen???? Then take the cooked food back to his apartment????? He shares and does the dishes, but damn?!?!??

Neighbor!Mingi who you force to watch all seasons of “Girlfriends”, “Living Single”, & “A Different World” with you, which wasn’t really forced cause he locks in on the drama quick. “The pizza guy is he-” “Wait! Wait! Dwayne is gonna crash Whitley’s wedding!”

Neighbor!Mingi who’ll rush over to kill a bug for you in an instant, BUT! He won’t leave unless you pay him in food or snacks. Every fucking time.

Neighbor!Mingi who keeps your company on wash day and will purposely take all day doing an intricate skincare routine out of solidarity.

Neighbor!Mingi who will hang out on your shared fire escape with burgers on Valentine’s Day because you both went on dates and they were terrible so now you have to debrief each other on your respective horror stories.

Neighbor!Mingi who buys two of everything so you can have one for your place as well.

Neighbor!Mingi who you invite to run errands with you because it got to a point where him just showing up at your window every now and again wasn’t enough.

Neighbor!Mingi who got drunk with you one night and got teary eyed hearing you sing your heart out to “Love and War” by Tamar Braxton.

Neighbor!Mingi who saw movers at your apartment and got sad that you were moving, so he wrote you a letter and left it on your fire escape window sill….

on a windy night….so it blew away…...🤦🏾‍♀️

Neighbor!Mingi who you actively watched attempt to pull off the sneaky letter delivery, and fail miserably in real time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that night so you just wait until you see him again.

Neighbor!Mingi who is relieved once you explain that the movers were at your place because you’re getting in a whole new living room set and needed to remove your old one…but embarrassed after you admit seeing the whole mail thing go down.

Neighbor!Mingi who thinks “Fuck it, if not now then when?” and confesses to you. And you smile and laugh because FINALLY. You thought YOU were gonna have to do a cryptic confession and that probably would’ve been worse or 3x more embarrassing.😭

Neighbor!Mingi who, now, doesn’t need a valid reason to just show up at your apartment. And neither do you!

Neighbor!Mingi who rubbed off on you BAD so now you enter his place through the fire escape window at 6am on Saturday mornings to finish sleeping in while hogging 75% of the blankets, and there’s nothing he can do about it💁🏾‍♀️.

Neighbor!Mingi who’ll try to repair or diy things around your place so you don’t have to pay to have it fixed (but he lowkey sucks so you end up having to get it fixed regardless, BUT he pays for it because girlfriend privileges🫶🏾✨)

Neighbor!Mingi that invites his and your friends over for game nights only to jokingly send them home when you’re both getting collectively smoked. Yes, he still preps food and snacks in your kitchen just to bring it next door.

Neighbor!Mingi who leaves little remnants of his at your place. An extra toothbrush here, a sweater and a pair of shoes there. Also has a silk pillowcase on the bed for you at his place.

Neighbor!Mingi who you kinda don’t want to be your neighbor anymore.

Neighbor!Mingi that you propose should become Roommate!Mingi once his lease is up at the end of the year, and he kisses you before you can even finish the suggestion.

Neighbor!Mingi that just so happens to be an amazing boyfriend and will be one hell of a roomie!❣️

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Hope you liked it! Lemme know your thoughts🫶🏾 ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹.Masterlist.⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.Blacktiny Writers Hub.⊹˚₊♡⟡˙⋆

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: His One and Only

You weren’t supposed to hear the conversation.

Neither was Marshall.

It had started as a regular day at the studio. You’d decided to tag along, enjoying the rare chance to watch him work. You were in the lounge, sipping on a soda and scrolling through your phone while Marshall finished recording a verse in the booth.

That’s when you overheard them.

Two of the guys on the production team, sitting just a few feet away, talking as if you weren’t even there.

“She’s gorgeous, man,” one of them said.

“Yeah, no kidding,” the other replied. “You ever think about what you’d do if you had a shot? I mean, she’s way out of our league, but still…”

Your heart sank.

The compliments would have been flattering if they weren’t so blatantly disrespectful to your husband. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, pretending to stay engrossed in your phone, hoping they’d drop the subject.

But they didn’t.

“I mean, if I were her, I’d get tired of all that baggage, you know?” the first guy said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, she deserves someone who can give her more attention,” the second added.

Before you could figure out how to respond, the door to the booth swung open, and Marshall stepped out.

He had clearly heard everything.

“Yo, what the hell did you just say?” Marshall’s voice was low, dangerous, and sent a chill down your spine.

The two men froze, their faces draining of color as they realized they’d been caught.

“W-we didn’t mean anything by it, man,” one of them stammered, raising his hands defensively.

“Oh, you didn’t?” Marshall took a step closer, his gaze like ice. “So you’re just sitting here running your mouths about my wife for fun? That it?”

“Marshall, it’s fine,” you interjected softly, trying to diffuse the tension.

But he wasn’t having it.

“No, it’s not fine,” he snapped, his eyes never leaving the two men. “You think you can just talk about her like that? Like she’s some prize you’re gonna win?”

Neither man dared to respond.

“That’s what I thought,” Marshall said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Get the hell out of my studio. Both of you.”

They didn’t hesitate, practically tripping over themselves as they scrambled for the door.

Once they were gone, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Marshall turned to you, his expression softening slightly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice wavered. “I just didn’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said firmly. “I’ve got you.”

You gave him a small smile, but he didn’t return it. Instead, he took a step closer, his hands finding your waist.

“You know you’re mine, right?” he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense.

“Of course I do,” you replied, resting your hands on his chest. “Why would you even ask?”

“Because hearing that crap makes me want to make sure everyone knows it.” His grip tightened slightly, his eyes dark with something possessive and primal.

“Marshall…”

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine, baby. No one else gets to look at you like that, think about you like that. No one else gets to have you. Ever.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t deny the heat that rose in your cheeks. You’d always known he was protective, but this side of him—domineering, possessive—was something else entirely.

“I know,” you whispered. “And I’m yours, just like you’re mine.”

That seemed to calm him slightly, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t fully ease.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you into his arms. You went willingly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you tightly.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he murmured into your hair. “You deserve better than that bullshit.”

“You handled it,” you said softly, smiling against his shoulder. “And honestly, it was kind of hot.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing.

“Well, good,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. “Because I don’t play when it comes to you. Ever.”

The rest of the day at the studio went smoothly, though Marshall kept a close eye on anyone who so much as glanced in your direction.

The tension from the studio incident lingered, even after the two guys had been kicked out. Marshall had been quieter than usual on the drive home, his hand gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, his jaw set in a way you knew meant he was still stewing.

You didn’t push him. You knew he needed time to work through his emotions, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about the storm brewing behind those piercing eyes.

When you pulled into the driveway, he killed the engine and finally looked at you.

“Come inside,” he said, his voice low and steady, though it carried an edge of something simmering beneath the surface.

You followed him without question, sensing that whatever was on his mind needed to be worked out sooner rather than later.

As soon as the door shut behind you, Marshall turned to you, his hands sliding to your waist and pulling you close. His touch was firm but not rough, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Do you know how crazy you make me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean?” you replied, your hands resting on his chest.

“I mean…” He took a deep breath, his fingers gripping your hips just a little tighter. “Hearing those idiots talk about you like that—it messed me up. Because the thought of anyone else thinking they could have you, touch you, even look at you like that... it drives me insane.”

“Marshall, I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly, trying to soothe him. “You know that.”

“I do,” he said, his voice firmer now. “But it’s not just about that. It’s about the fact that I *need* you to understand how much you mean to me. You’re not just my wife—you’re everything. And the idea of someone else even *thinking* they could come between us makes me feel like I’ll lose my damn mind.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over you. “I get it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you don’t have to worry about anyone else. It’s just you, Marshall. It’s always been you.”

His gaze softened slightly, but the possessiveness didn’t entirely fade. “I know. But I don’t just want to hear it. I need to see it. Feel it.”

Marshall led you to the bedroom, his movements deliberate as he closed the door behind you. The air between you was charged, and when he turned back to you, there was a fire in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and steady as he cupped your face in his hands. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your hands finding their way to his waist.

He kissed you then, deep and consuming, like he was trying to pour every ounce of his love and frustration into that single moment. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing heavy.

“And I’m yours,” he said, his voice softer now but no less certain. “Every piece of me is yours. Always.”

“Always,” you echoed, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as you pulled him closer.

That night, Marshall made it his mission to remind you of exactly where you belonged—with him. He held you close, whispering reassurances and promises against your skin, his touch both tender and possessive.

And when you finally fell asleep, curled up in his arms, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and murmured, “You’re mine, and I’ll never let anyone forget it.”

Neither of you spoke about the studio incident again after that. But from that day on, there was an unspoken understanding between you—a bond that couldn’t be broken, no matter who tried to come between you.

Because at the end of the day, you were his.

And he was yours.

Because you weren’t just his wife.

You were his world.

[tikosblogg]

Hii, I saw that you wanted to get requests and I just got one. Reader is going through tough times and having the problem that everytime she comes home, she just goes to bed and falls asleep for hours and wakes up in the evening. Noah notices this and that she's more closed off, more tired and wants to help her. I like your works, they're well written. Hope you're doing well❤️❤️

Sorry this one took a bit. This one means a lot to me, because sadly I can relate. I’ve been going through this for the last few months, so in a weird way if felt nice to write.

ANYTHING>HUMAN

*Pic from tumblr*

Warning: talks of depression, anxiety.

A/N: plz enjoy, this pic is so cute, I had to use it.

The slam of the front door echoed through the apartment, a familiar, hollow sound that seemed to mock the silence that had become my constant companion. I leaned against the cool wood, the weight of the day already crushing me. It wasn’t a particularly bad day, not really. Just…empty. Like a hollow shell of a day. I kicked off my shoes, letting them fall where they may, and trudged towards the bedroom. My limbs felt heavy, each step an effort. The pull of the mattress was magnetic; a silent promise of oblivion.

I didn’t bother with changing, just collapsed onto the bed, face down, still in my work clothes. The soft material of the sheets offered a small comfort, just enough to let go. And then, as always, sleep claimed me, pulling me into a void where problems ceased to exist, at least for a little while.

The next thing I knew, the room was bathed in the soft, orange glow of the setting sun. My head felt groggy, my mouth dry. I blinked up at the ceiling, disoriented, trying to piece together the last few hours. Or, more accurately, the absence of them. It was always the same. Come home, sleep, wake up, and the day was practically gone.

I dragged myself out of bed, the weight in my heart a constant, dull ache. The smell of cooking food wafted from the kitchen, the aroma of something savory, something that spoke of care. Noah. I’d forgotten he was even here. Again.

He was standing at the stove, his back to me, a canvas of tattoos stretching across his broad shoulders. Even in the dim light, I could see the intricate patterns, the way they moved and shifted with his every motion. He was a force of nature, all 6’3” of inked skin and quiet strength. He turned, brown eyes meeting mine, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hey baby” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that always managed to settle some of the chaos in my head. “You were out for hours.”

I shrugged, running a hand through my tangled hair. “I was tired.” My voice sounded flat, even to my own ears.

“Tired?” He placed the spatula down, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. The casual pose couldn’t hide the concern etched on his face. “Or…something else?”

He knew me too well, always had. We’d been friends since forever, a bond forged in the fires of high school awkwardness and late-night talks. He’d seen me at my best and my worst, the exuberant and the insecure. We finally became official, right after high school. But lately, the quiet and the defeated had been winning.

I looked away, focusing on the worn wooden floorboards. “I don’t know,” I mumbled, the words catching in my throat. It was getting harder and harder to articulate what was going on inside. It felt like a storm brewing, a constant churn of anxiety and exhaustion that was slowly suffocating me.

He took a step closer, his presence filling the space, his warmth a comforting balm against the coldness that had settled around me. “Y/N,” he said, his voice gentle, “you’ve been doing this every day for weeks. You come home, you sleep, you wake up, and the day’s gone. You barely eat, you barely talk. You’re like… fading.”

That word hit hard. Fading. It was exactly how I felt. Like the edges of me were blurring, the vibrant colors of my life slowly turning to muted shades of gray.

“I’m just stressed,” I offered weakly, picking at a nonexistent thread on my t-shirt. “Work’s been hard.”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I know you better than that, Y/N. Work has always been hard, but you’ve always been… well, you. You’ve always bounced back. But this…this is different. You’re not yourself.”

The truth in his words was like a punch to the gut. He was right. I wasn’t myself. I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

“I just…” I trailed off, unable to articulate the jumbled mess of emotions swirling within me. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I just wanted to disappear, to curl up and let the world pass me by.

He closed the distance between us, his big hands coming to rest on my hips. I could feel the strength beneath his touch, a grounding anchor in the sea of my turmoil. “look at me,” he said softly, tilting my chin up so I was forced to meet his gaze. "It’s okay to not be okay, you know? It’s okay to need help.”

His words, spoken with such quiet conviction, resonated with a power I hadn’t expected. Maybe it was okay, maybe I didn’t have to carry this burden alone.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I whispered, the tears finally escaping and tracing hot paths down my cheeks. "I just feel so… lost.”

He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me, holding me close. It was a familiar comfort, a safety net I hadn't realized I needed so desperately…home. “I’m here baby,” he murmured into my hair, his voice a soothing balm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

We stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, the silence broken only by the soft sounds of my sobs. Slowly, the tension in my body began to ease, replaced by a fragile sense of calm.

“Come on,” he said, pulling back slightly. He wiped the tears from my face with the pad of his thumb. “Let’s eat. And then… maybe we can talk? Or we can just sit in silence. Whatever you need.”

He didn’t push, didn’t demand, just offered a hand, a lifeline. And for the first time in a long time, I found myself taking it.

We ate dinner in a comfortable silence, the taste of the food warming me from the inside out. It wasn't a miracle cure, by any means. The darkness still lingered, but it felt a little less overwhelming, a little less suffocating. After we finished, we moved to the living room, settling on the couch.

He spread out in the corner of the plush couch, stretching his arms towards me, beckoning me to lay on his chest. Without a word I did so. He wrapped one arm around my waist, while his other hand ran through my hair. “So,” he began, his voice calm and steady, “is there anything you want to talk about?”

I looked down, picking at the hem of his t-shirt. “It’s just… everything feels hard. Like I’m wading through mud. I try to keep up, but I’m always falling behind. Work, life… it all just feels like too much.”

He listened patiently, his attention never wavering, his presence a silent reassurance. As I spoke, the words tumbled out, a tangled mess of anxieties and insecurities. I told him about the constant feeling of inadequacy, the relentless pressure I felt to measure up, the way the simple act of getting out of bed felt like a monumental task.

He didn't interrupt, didn't offer platitudes or quick fixes. He simply listened, letting me vent, letting me express the emotions that I had been carrying for so long. When I was done, he reached out and took my hand, his fingers lacing with mine.

“Thank you, for telling me baby,” he said softly. “It takes courage to be vulnerable like that, to let someone see the parts of you that feel broken.”

He turned my hand over, tracing the lines on my palm with his thumb. “You’re not broken, Y/N,” he said, meeting my eyes. “You’re just… hurting. And that’s okay. It doesn’t make you less of a person. And you don't have to carry it alone. We'll figure this out. Together.”

His words were like a balm to my wounded soul. I wasn’t as alone as I thought. Maybe things could get better. I looked up at him, his familiar face a beacon of hope in the darkness. He leaned down placing a soft kiss to my forehead, nose, and then a long lingering kiss to my lips And for the first time in what felt like forever, a tiny seed of hope began to sprout in my heart. It wasn't a cure, not even really a solution. But it felt like a start. And right now, a start was everything.

[jenosonlywife23]

"Where Do We Go From Here"

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the distant sound of rain tapping against the window. You sat on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the steaming mug of tea in your hands. Jaehyun stood across the room, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched you with a pained expression.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, thicker than the silence between you. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

“I don’t know what else to say,” you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaehyun pushed off the wall, running a hand through his hair as he approached you. He stopped a few steps away, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. His eyes, deep and searching, met yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of hope.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice steady but soft, like he was trying not to break.

Your heart clenched. You wanted to believe him—you really did. But the fights, the misunderstandings, the growing distance… it felt like you were standing on opposite sides of a canyon, shouting into the void.

“I don’t know if we can fix this,” you admitted, your grip tightening around the mug. “It’s like we’re trying so hard to hold on, but we’re just…” You trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Jaehyun took a deep breath, crouching in front of you so that he was eye level. He reached out, his hand hovering over yours before finally resting on top of it. His touch was warm, familiar, but it didn’t erase the ache in your chest.

“We’ve come so far,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Are you really ready to let it all go?”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you bit your lip to keep them from falling. You weren’t ready. Not really. But the constant push and pull was exhausting, and you didn’t know if love alone was enough anymore.

“Jaehyun,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “I don’t know where we go from here.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with finality, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched, his eyes glassy as he searched your face for something—anything—that could give him hope. Slowly, he rose to his feet, taking a step back.

“Maybe…” He paused, his voice cracking. “Maybe we figure it out together. Or maybe… we don’t.”

Your tears spilled over, and you looked down at the mug in your hands, unable to meet his gaze.

“I just… I need time,” you said, your voice barely audible.

Jaehyun nodded, though his expression crumbled at your words. He turned toward the door, hesitating for a moment before looking back.

“I’ll wait,” he said, his voice steady despite the heartbreak in his eyes. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone with the rain and the echoes of his words.

As the door clicked shut, you let the tears flow freely, your heart aching for what was and what might never be. The rain outside grew heavier, mirroring the storm within you.

You weren’t sure where you and Jaehyun would go from here, but one thing was certain: the love between you was still there, lingering like a haunting melody, refusing to fade away.

[xsezzie]

The Almighty My-Lee

Warnings: Tickling, swearing

Characters: Lee!Mydei/Ler!Phainon (ft. Anaxa briefly)

My-lee… get it? Instead of Mydei? Hehe 😝

Anyway these two are HOT af and I hope Anaxa fits in well with them 🥰

I’m sorry it’s short, I’ve never been good at writing long tickle fics :(

“C’mon Mydei… just a little smile~”

Phainon teased as he perched atop his muscular friend, his fingers skittering up and down his exposed sides. The lion laid beneath him, biting his lip so hard it would come close to bleeding. But the stubborn Mydei was not willing to give Phainon what he wanted.

“F-Fuck…. O-off….”

“Mydei~” The white haired man sang, testing the sensitivity of his abs.

“Grr… fuck… pff…” Mydei was still refusing to give in. The ticklish sensations were unbearable, coursing through his body and making him squirm. How could he get like this? He was the powerful Mydeimos, a King, a legend, a… very ticklish person.

“Gahaha!” Oh no, a giggle slipped out as he felt the Deliverer’s fingers brush a soft spot along his flanks. His face flushed red as he looked up at Phainon, hoping he somehow didn’t hear that.

Instead, that bastard has the biggest shit-eating smirk he’s ever seen on his face in his life.

Well, shit.

“N-No no-no NOHOHOHOOO!!!” Having found the sweet spot, Phainon’s fingers focus their attention on the soft flesh below Mydei’s ribs. He can feel the muscles quiver beneath his fingers as the blond squirms and laughs.

“Awww Mydei~ Are you ticklish here? Hmm?”

“GAHAHAHAHA FUHUHUCK OOF HAHA!”

The lion roared, his raspy laugh filling the room and bouncing off the tile walls. He was sure someone was able to hear him but he couldn’t stop it.

“Coochie Coochie coo~” That damn Deliverer… not the baby talk.

“I-I HAHAHAHATE YOOU!”

“You always call me the Deliverer… you know what it means? Deliverer of tickles of course!” Phainon chuckles to himself as Mydei laughs harder and his face becomes more flushed from the teasing.

His fingers were driving him insane, hyper focusing on that one soft spot. He had to end this… but unfortunately, a nuisance third party had helped Phainon with restraining him.

“Go easy on him, Phainon. You know he will get you back ten times worse.” Anaxa was quietly observing in the corner, nose in a tome he found. He had helped Phainon by using tree roots to restrain Mydei’s arms, but he could feel the pull on them from the strength the blond exhibited. It was only a matter of time before he broke them.

“Oh he’s too ticklish for revenge~ I won’t go down without a fight!”

The white haired man shifted his attention to testing other spots on the man’s torso now that his walls were down.

“HEHEHHAHAHAHAAH!! STAHAHAP!” Armpits? Good reaction, more squirming.

“PHAINOHOHOHON!” Ribs? Pretty decent.

“BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAAAHP!” His abs? Excellent reaction, more laughing.

“Hehe~ Look how adorable he is, Anaxa get my teleslate for me!”

“D-Don’t you fucking dare!” Mydei panted knowing Phainon would have no issues recording this moment.

“I am not getting anymore involved than I already am. Good luck.” The scholar left the room, letting the roots of the tree fade away from around Mydei’s arms.

Phainon’s widened for a moment.

“Uh…”

“Huh…”

“Hmph, how about a sparring match, Deliverer?”

Mydei’s devilish grin was enough to make Phainon’s stomach drop and his heart race at the same time.

[soangelbaby]

Heya baby! I'll be your first request (I've no clue how many are in your inbox), but how about if Clark sees best friend!neighbour!reader changing through her window? How would he react?

eek i’ve actually been working on something soo similar to this so this is right up my alley fr 😏 thank u pooks for my first req evr so bare w me but ily ilyy, its giving… my biggest supporter ha 🥹

clark watching his bestfriend who is his neighbor change through her window, he’d absolutely relish in it. first time would be an accident, he’d be stargazing with his lil telescope, but then he sees you out the corner of his eye and he’s completely caught off guard, but can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

you’d be fresh out the shower, hair still damp, white towel wrapped around your glistening body, maybe you just got home and haven’t even bothered to close your blinds, completely oblivious to the man watching you on the other side.

you wouldn’t jump straight into changing or finding clothes, you’d sit at your vanity, doing your skincare before bed, moisturizing your hair, and clark would be watching oh so intently, following your every move—he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s invading your privacy, especially as his best friend, he shouldn’t be looking at you like this, his parents raised him better.

but all that guilt isn’t enough to beat his curiosity, waiting, hoping, you drop the towel, he imagines it falling slowly, just enough to tease him,—wait he has x-ray vision… he could take advantage of this moment right now, and so he does…

while you began blow drying your hair, moving around your room to find a close enough plug, clark started to strip you with his eyes, one flicker of his x-ray vision, and boom—you’re completely bare. clark’s breath hitches as he adjusts his telescope slighty, his free hand drops down to his aching dick, palming himself through his jeans. his eyes almost pop out of his head at your frame, your perfect tits sitting so nice for him, the dip of your spine, the curve of your ass against your little white vanity seat. a tiny flower tattoo on your hip, shit—it’s enough to make him finish right there, his cum seeping through his clothes.

he��s going feral. his hand speeds up, his breath grows heavier, his heart rate increases. “fuck..” he mutters under his breath. his eyes squeeze shut—i mean you’re his bestfriend, he had no business looking at you this way. but all he can think about is if you knew… if you knew he was watching you right now, eye fucking you as you wind down for bed, knew how bad his dick aches for you, how he imagines sliding in and out of your tight pussy, if you knew that he was completely invading your privacy, thinking of all the ways he could take advantage of you… that should be enough for him to stop, to pull his hand away from his throbbing shaft, to shake off these foul thoughts and feelings about you. but it’s not…

instead, it turns him on even more. he imagines the shock on your face at the sight of him so undone for you. would you be disgusted by him? would you feel betrayed and hurt he’s peeking in on you? completely disregarding your friendship and his morals, just defiling it. or would you like it? would you strip for him through your window? would you tease him, knowing just how bad he wants you—fuck that—needs you?

clark lets out a guttural moan as his head drops back, “sh-shiit, fuuck” he makes out as he finishes. his pink lips parted, his cheeks flushed all the same, and his body trying to catch up with his mind. he can’t believe himself, the guilt washes over. he tells himself never again, that next time he won’t let his ‘curiosity’ get the best of him.. but the next morning? he’s sitting at that telescope, his hand already tugging at his shorts, watching you change and get ready for the day…

a/n ; luv this, kinda ties into my pervert clark hc and its just sooo chefs kiss like i want him to stalk me so bad…anywhoo hope you enjoy arty my love, this is for u :P

[stardustrebels]

Seasons of Life Writing Challenge Day 28- Pumpkin

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: 18+/ M.  WC: 685

A/N: Day 28 of the Jan 2025 writing challenge by @fanfictionoverload! It’s here! The last fic of the challenge, and the only one where I’ve gone over the word count! I’d like to say a huge massive thank you to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for organising this, I’ve had so much fun taking part and everyone's fics have been so great to read. I really enjoy working from prompts it turns out, so I've opened requests for drabbles, one-shots, ficlets etc. If you’re interested, drop me a message here. Without further ado, here is a little flash forward ficlet of Joel and reader from my More of You series ahead of the new chapter being posted (hopefully) this week. 

Challenge Masterlist

You woke slowly, tangled in a cocoon of blankets, shielding you from the cool air filtering in through the cracked window. The scent of something rich and savoury curled through the room, coaxing you further from sleep. 

With a groggy blink, you turned toward the clock on Joel’s nightstand. 1:07PM. 

You groaned, rubbing your face. You hadn’t meant to sleep this late, but you’d been exhausted. You stretched beneath the sheets, the dull ache between your thighs a sweet reminder of the night before.

Low moans swallowed by heated kisses, Joel’s hand cradling the back of your head in to the crook of his neck as he thrust in to you, urging you over the edge for him, voice thick and rough with pleasure. ‘Just one more, honeybee. You can do it sweet girl. Bein’ so good f’me. C’mon, atta girl. That’s it.” 

You could still feel the heat of him against you as he pressed you in to the mattress. He had been unrelenting, dragging you through wave after wave of pleasure until you were spent, trembling beneath him and barely able to keep your eyes open. Joel had pulled you on to his chest and held you close, punctuating kisses against your temple with whispers of praise that you couldn’t quite make out as sleep pulled you under. 

The bed suddenly felt too big without him. 

Swinging your legs over the edge of the mattress, you plucked your underwear from where it’d been flung haphazardly across the room the night before, and grabbed one of Joel’s flannels from the back of the chair, shrugging it on before padding barefoot down the stairs. The house was quiet except for the clink of metal against ceramic. You found Joel in the kitchen, stirring something at the stove. 

He turned at the creak of the bottom step, shooting you a lopsided smile. 

“Look who finally decided to join the land of the livin’.”  You huffed, stepping close enough to peck a kiss on to his shoulder, pushing a hand up the back of his t-shirt, hoping he didn’t feel the neediness in your touch. “I can’t believe you let me sleep that long.” 

“Figure you needed it,” he said, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Kept you up late, after all.” The glint in his eye made you want to drag him back upstairs. Before you could reply, he turned toward the counter, grabbing two bowls. 

“Soup’s ready,” he said simply, ladling some from the pot in to each bowl.

“You made soup?” You asked, surprised. 

He gave you a look. “What, you think I don’t know how to cook?”

You bit back a smile. “Can’t be good at everything, Miller.” 

He huffed a laugh and handed you a bowl, guiding you toward the small kitchen table. “It’s pumpkin. My mom used to make it when it got cold out,” he admitted quietly as he sat across from you. “Ain’t exactly like hers, but it’s close.” 

You dipped your spoon and took a tentative sip. 

“Joel, this is amazing!” 

You caught his proud smile before he ducked his head to hide it. 

The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a while, the afternoon sun filtering across the table, helping warm you up. You stretched your legs out and Joel’s eyes flicked up to yours at the gentle press of your foot against his, something soft and unreadable passing over his face. He didn’t say anything, just shifted slightly, letting his knee bump back against your leg. 

You smiled in to your bowl, ignoring the little voice at the back of your head that had grown louder recently, repeating words that you never thought you’d want to say out loud to another person ever again. You took another spoonful of soup to stop yourself from blurting them out, deciding instead on “Thank you.”

Joel swallowed, eyes lingering on you for a beat too long before he exhaled, shaking his head with a crooked grin. “Ain’t gotta thank me for takin’ care of you, honeybee.” 

And you knew he meant it. 

[naga-raja-suresh]

The tension in the room spiked as Corvinus came back to himself. Anger. An imprecise emotion. Pervasive. Now that Corvinus was holding one of his vials Suresh figured he would feel more secure. Even if Suresh was holding the coat with the other two. And so the threat came. The threat itself wasn't unexpected. Silly. But unexpected. An eyebrow arched up at the vitriol in the witch's voice. He didn't have to imagine how horrible it must have been, to be at someone's mercy for the first time in who knows how long. And now Corvinus knew that Suresh could break into his mind and emotions... well, he knew some of it. There were things Suresh had not shown the witch. Let him guess how much more was hidden. "Vivid imagery." Suresh replied coolly. He could tell that Corvinus would absolutely try and do it. "I hope I don't ever have to do that again."

He'd seen them, just as glimpse but he saw the scars. It hadn't been his original intention but the necklace had to be removed. And Suresh thought about the red hair, the two children, and how they hadn't been enough to stop him from his quest for immortality. And what was immortality than power? He hadn't expected to come out of this with more empathy for the witch. He had been prepared to make sure that the witch couldn't walk away. But if Suresh didn't feel something for this man, who would? Who could even come close to understanding what it costs? He smirked at the curse. He liked this rougher, angrier version of the witch. It was closer to the bone. Truth. Suresh pointed through the door to the room Corvinus' had been in the last time they were together. "I do. And I know it will fit you. Can I get it for you without worrying about you bolting for the door?"

Scales moved silently on the carpet. He got the black button down and hung it on the door frame, moving back to the chair. Giving the witch lots of space. What he'd done would have consequences. Suresh knew that. It's why most people that he used his powers on he either altered their memories enough for them to not remember or he killed them. Suresh listened as the witch took control back over his body and his emotions. But the Naga would not forget what he'd seen. The room was silent but it was not still for Suresh. He could still feel the witch. Darkness in the eyes that wasn't there before as Corvinus finally looked at him again. Suresh's smiled sadly at the comment about Corvinus' body. But let it pass. The bell could not be unrung. "I would have liked that. But yes, I do believe that I have ruined that for us..." He kept his distance from the witch, pulling out the chair he was holding and sat, his tail curled around it. The witch's coat folded on his lap. "Let us be ourselves with each other then. Something I think neither of us often is fully with anyone. A few things... I didn't have to let you go. But I did. I was told about your healing so if I had really wanted to be cruel I could have bitten you... But I didn't." He opened the hand that was holding the vial of Naga blood, holding it between two taloned fingers delicately before closing his hand around it again. He looked at the witch, "I understand that you are upset about the violation, just as I was upset about you having this blood, a different type of violation. I don't expect you to understand it but the closest thing I can think of is asking what would you do to someone who had taken the blood or bones of your children. And maybe you can see that my response was actually rather measured all things considered." Golden eyes stayed on Corvinus, "How many people have you let go when you didn't have to?"

He would equate it more like choking, that desperation he could feel that was, for once, not his own. It was a spot he was familiar with, though he had never turned to any deity for their aid and always took matters in to his own hands. Brief glimpses of others he didn't recognise, a mind too clouded to truly realise what he was seeing. That would come later when he had time to process the events of the night. For now, he could truly care less about the images as a part of him tried to claw its way back to the surface rather than feeling drowned in the memories of another, of a bygone era even he had not been a part of.

And then he was snapping back to reality, the pressure off his body as the tail unwound from around him. He startled slightly as he came crashing back down with a soft gasp and a slight feeling of nausea from it all. World spinning, his first thought back to his own vial of blood that had been discarded. Eyes found it, thankfully unbroken on the floor and with a wave of his hand, it found itself back in his grasp. Safe and secure, his own weapon in the moment if need be. And with how tightly his fingers curled around the glass, he was clearly all too prepared to shatter it to access the blood inside if any moves were made. Corvinus may as well be holding a grenade with how it sat in his hand. "If you do that ever again...I will rip you apart and hang every bloody organ of yours on display like an art museum," he hissed between his teeth and vengeance so tempting in the aftermath. Invading his own mind, his own feelings...that was a line crossed.

There wasn't a mark on him though as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he also didn't move like a man that had likely just had multiple bones frozen. No bruising from the skin visible though the movement to lean forward was a deliberate on to cast his chest more in shadow. To hide the deep scars that peeked through the gaps due to those fucking talons. To be so perfectly frozen in time also meant the scars of his past lingered. Unhealing, a constant reminder of a once mortal man. Corvinus didn't even respond to the eyes taking in his form, still trying to shake off the last webs in his head that still felt entangled. "And unless you have a shirt right fucking now to replace it, it won't do me any good, will it?"

Deep breaths; now was not the time to become unraveled. That would come later. He lifted up his free hand to momentarily cover his face as he forced himself to relax. There was a deafening silence in the room as he put himself back together. Piece by piece, correcting his image into that charming man rather than the vengeful blood witch he could turn into with ease. He still had another vial, still held the cards, still touted knowledge of the Nameless. The game wasn't over just yet and he'd be fool to fold so early. Slowly, his hand ran down his face before falling away once more and the anger was gone from his face though the amusement had yet to return. In his eyes, it was a violation of any sort of trust that could be built. Just because he had his own secrets didn't mean he'd force his way into someone's mind so deliberately, so directly.

His eyes found Suresh, taking in his own form now that it wasn't crushing him. A thousand times prettier than the near-corpse he had found or the one that fled and he barely had a look at. "A mutilated body like this is hardly extraordinary," he said dismissively though it was a subtle compliment towards the other's form. Pushing aside his own, he just was no longer in the mood for charm. And no point in pretending his scarring hadn't been on display though still mostly covered, thankfully. A sigh as he looked around the room. "And to think I came here to enjoy a night with you and give you information you probably wanted. And here I was playing nice. I guess that's out the window."