#this is long as hell already but i'll stop here

[moonzzip]

my song for you | prologue

a/n — I decided to make this mini-series in celebration of g-d's new album (and due to the lack of new stories these days), I've been busy and that's why I haven't been releasing any more stories, but I hope you like this one, I'll release the next chapter soon!

summary: your passion for music has always been something that kept you grounded, but soon you found yourself lost. your friend gets you into trouble, and you wonder if your wounds will ever heal.

pairing: jiyong x pianist!gn!reader

!warnings: mention of toxic family, bruises, blood, fainting

lowercase letters, w.c: 2,1k

nothing. nothing comes to your mind, nothing.

you play, play, and play the keys, but nothing forms.

the sound is empty, the melody is empty, the notes are empty, everything, absolutely everything is empty.

none of the forms give you feeling, never satisfied with what you're doing.

everything is bad, everything sounds bad, you don't feel like you're doing it right, nothing seems right.

your hands tremble, your fists want to clench, false notes, off-key sounds, your finger clicked the wrong key, your foot stepped wrong, you missed by a millisecond, you played two at the same time, you played none.

and you stop.

your breath is tired, frustrated, disgusted, agonized. your soul feels broken and empty, lonely.

that song that once made you happy no longer fills you.

you've been playing the piano for as long as you can remember. your family is a great pianist family, so you always had this obligation to know how to play. everyone in the family was considered a prodigy.

but not you.

you were slower compared to your cousins, took longer to understand compared to your aunts when they were children, didn't have the motor coordination of your mother or the speed of your father.

you were incomplete.

the scars on the top of your hand say it all, every little scratch, purple mark, dripping blood, silenced scream, cry, and sweat.

even so, you never felt anger toward them, your family.

much less hatred for the piano.

it was an object, it wasn’t its fault.

it wasn’t the piano that made your blood run, it wasn’t the piano that made your tears fall.

you used the piano as an escape, despite it having brought you misery.

anger rises to your head, your fists finally clench completely and begin to strike the instrument fiercely, horrible sounds coming out due to the aggression on the black and white keys, your screams scratch your throat, your body sore and tired, your mind full, yet empty at the same time, too messy, your already dried tears no longer fall.

you continue the attack for a while, until exhaustion almost wins.

you bite your lips so hard they bleed, your head tilts back, the blood running down your lips, your vision blurs, and your body falls back, staring at the ceiling as you let out a sigh, and everything goes dark.

your feet walk along the crowded sidewalk, your hands in furry, warm gloves, looking at your feet but still seeing ahead to avoid bumping into someone.

you stop at the edge of the sidewalk, now looking up, the cars passing at high speed, countless people on the other side and beside you. you sigh, hiding your face in your warm scarf, your eyes catching the large sign meters away from you: ‘galaxy corporation,’ and you sigh again.

what was your friend thinking? he called you out of nowhere, saying he needed you to come to the company where he works because it was urgent. what the hell could be so urgent that he needed your help? nothing comes to mind. your day had been going so well, you had slept reasonably well, and it was cold enough to stay under the blankets for as long as you wanted. just thinking about it makes you yawn, stretching your back, hearing a small crack, and adjusting your clothes, brushing off invisible dust.

well, here goes nothing.

the door opens automatically, the warm air hitting your face. you breathe in satisfaction and step inside—it’s well-lit and spacious—the door closes behind you. you take off your scarf and store it in your bag. there aren't many people, a small group and some scattered around, but nothing beyond that.

you wonder if your friend is waiting for you down here. you look around but decide to go to the reception.

“ah... excuse me?” the receptionist looks up and gives you a small but still gentle smile.

“hello! how can I help you?”

you try to return the smile, but it feels awkward, so you continue, “mr. kim jonghoon called me and asked me to come. could you check if he’s here?”

you could just call him, but this isn’t the first time jonghoon has called you out of nowhere saying he has something important to say, only to disappear when you try to call back. you’re not in the mood to waste your phone credits on him.

“ah! kim jonghoon-ssi? just a moment.”

you watch her pick up the fancy black phone and dial some numbers. it rings, and jonghoon answers almost instantly.

that bastard. he knew you wouldn’t come if he kept answering and responding to your questions. this man is getting too clever for your liking. you roll your eyes internally.

the receptionist is smiling like an idiot on the phone. jonghoon has a habit of flirting with people, but he could do that another time.

the sound of the phone being placed back on the receiver pulls you from your thoughts.

“he is in the building, yes. he’ll be here soon, please wait patiently.”

it’s not like you have anywhere else to go.

you look around and see an empty armchair nearby. it looks comfortable, so you sit down. you wonder if he’ll take long, then pull out your phone, looking for something to do.

ah... you should have downloaded some games.

would it be rude to put on your headphones? you think about it but take them out anyway, connecting them via bluetooth. you scroll through your spotify, maybe something by bigbang? lots of options, your finger hovers over a few, clicks one, skips, until you find one.

‘my heaven’ appears on your screen. ah... this song is so good. you remember watching the m/v when you were younger. you used to follow the group more closely. they were your inspiration to play that... thing. after a while, you just gave up on music altogether.

you sigh, looking at your hands, the scars hidden beneath the gloves, running from your elbows to your fingertips.

hours and hours, endlessly playing that thing, until your nails broke and your fingers formed calluses, or until you passed out. most times, that’s how it went.that leather whip was used on your delicate little hands, mercilessly, without pause.

you had always been a well-behaved child, never complained, never gave a reason for such methods to be used, but apparently, your difficulty in learning was reason enough.

always put down, always compared to everyone in your family—

"your aunt learned this in three days."

"your sister wouldn’t make a mistake like that."

"you never get this right on the first try. useless."

things like that.jonghoon only knows the surface. you never had the courage to give him many details, and you don’t plan to.

he understands. he never crosses that line, and that’s it.

you played so much, so much, participated in so many projects nonstop, took courses, tests, competitions, but never received a 'congratulations', never an applause. it was as if you were performing for no one.

but you never complained. as long as you liked playing, nothing could affect you.

until it did.

your thoughts are once again interrupted by a light kick to your shoe. it’s jonghoon.

(internally, you thank him for pulling you out of those thoughts.)

“hey, ___!”, he greets you excitedly.you look at him blankly before putting him in a headlock, muttering angrily,

“you bastard. you call me in the middle of the night, say it’s important, then ignore me? you know I have no patience for this, and you call me at 3 AM?? I’m going to kill you, kim jonghoon.”

he knows you’re really mad when you say his full name.

“a-ah, _-__, I can’t talk—”

you tighten your grip.

“your silence is starting to please me, jonghoon. you in a coffin would be even better.”

he taps your arm, and you loosen slightly.

“i-if you let me g-go, I c-can talk.”

you click your tongue and release him, crossing your arms.

“speak. before I change my mind and leave.”

he knows you’re not joking, so he hurries.

“so... I kind of... signed you up for a temporary job... playing piano for an artist’s production here.”

kim jonghoon was a dead man that day.

...or so you wish.

but here you were, sitting at a table with your friend in front of you. he bought you lunch, so you forgave him—temporarily. two days, you told him.

"jonghoon, you know i haven't played in three years. what the hell were you thinking!?" your voice rose slightly, laced with disappointment, and you didn’t hide it.

he lowered his head a bit, knowing what he did wasn’t right. "sorry, ___… i just wanted to help. seeing you in the same situation as three years ago makes me anxious. i hate seeing you like that at home, and—"

letting out a frustrated sigh, you ran your hands through your hair, elbows resting on the table. "this is something i'm working on, jonghoon. i know you want to help, but—" you stared at the table, eyes slowly filling with tears.

"it’s not something that heals just like that... i hate the piano. i hate my music. i hate my family. and i hate hating these things."

the man in front of you stood up and walked over, gently running his fingers through your hair. "look… i know what i did was wrong, but ___…"

he hesitated, and you looked up at him. "i know you don’t actually hate the piano. i know you don’t truly hate your music. it’s what lifted you out of where you were, ___. don’t say that, please."

you looked at him, anger flashing in your eyes. "kim jonghoon, don’t talk about things you don’t understand."

you stood from your chair, grabbing your things. "sometimes, you're just like them. you try to dictate how i feel. you don’t know anything. you shouldn’t have done this, and you know it."

you walked toward the door, ready to leave. "i’m not completely mad. i get that you want to help, but… just leave me alone. for a while."

just before you reached for the handle, the large door swung open. you took a few steps back as a man entered.

his colorful hair, cap with a scarf tied over it, yellow-tinted glasses, vibrant clothes, and perfectly painted nails made him stand out. he brought color into the dull, lifeless room—like a stylish rainbow.

jonghoon perked up, walking over to the man.

"jiyong-ssi! hey, how are you!?" he greeted the man enthusiastically, who smiled at him and bowed at a precise 90-degree angle.

"jonghoon-ssi, hello. i'm doing well. and you?" his voice was calm and deep, slightly raspy but steady. the more energetic man simply smiled and nodded in agreement.

you stood with your hands in your pockets, feeling a little out of place, glancing around.

the man with colorful hair noticed you in the room and fidgeted with his hands slightly but still greeted you. "you must be ___-ssi, right?"

you nodded with a small ‘yes’ and bowed at 90 degrees as well, polite. the man in front of you did the same. "i'm kwon jiyong. nice to meet you. i heard you’ve been playing piano for years—i’m interested in your work."

you stared at him for a few seconds, but before you could respond, jonghoon cut in. "ahh, ___ is definitely interested, jiyong-ssi! i told them about the job, and they rushed right over—you can trust me on this."

giving your friend a deadly glare, he continued undeterred. "the absolute best pianist in the world is standing right in front of you! i’ve never seen anyone like them—pure dedication! the music that comes from ___'s fingers takes me to heaven, seriously!"

you rolled your eyes at jonghoon’s exaggerated praises but stayed silent. he wasn’t going to give up on making you play again. you didn’t know how to feel about it—grateful or incredibly frustrated.

the more energetic man pulled you and jiyong by the arms, making you both sit at the table as he started talking.

"___, jiyong-ssi recently started producing his third solo album, something highly anticipated by his fans, of course. it’s not every day that g-dragon releases an album, and—"

ah.that’s why kwon jiyong seemed familiar to you.

the man sitting beside you was g-dragon.

you put your elbows on the table and buried your head in your hands.

what the hell had you gotten yourself into?

a/n – so, I wrote this while listening to gd’s ‘drama’, seriously, what a wonderful album, where I live it came out at 2 in the morning, but I woke up to listen to it, I don’t regret it one bit, thank you for the wonderful album gd, I have no complaints (and never have). thanks for reading! I’ll release part one soon, I think it will have at most 3 parts (not counting the prologue), but I can’t guarantee anything. feel free to correct any mistakes!

[theallianceofcelestials]

Can i get a drabble of SEA KC snuggling Eclipse and these two cuddling pretty please?

Just some Father-son affection for my poor sentimental soul❤️‍🩹

And then you want to bite my man. Do you even deserve the drabble? /silly

Also congratulations, you get an entire story before the cuddling because my brain needs a reason for the cuddles to happen

It's been a really long day Eclipse thinks as he shambles back into his room, barely standing on his feet. It's been a very, very long day

Luckily, he's got the entire room to himself because the family left for-

"Before you decide to flop into the nest do take a shower please"

And then he promptly jumps because Killcode's somehow fucking there.

Eclipse glares, but then stops when it finally registers to him just what state his father is in.

He's bundled in the blankets, looking miserable, holding a cup of tea and somehow managing to give the feeling of a stuffed, red nose.

"The hell happened to you?"

"It appears-" and he's cut off with a sneeze that startles him from the simple loudness of it "appears that I've caught a cold"

What the actual fuck?

"You can do that?"

The effect of the disapproving frown is lost when Killcode begins to rapidly take in air for his next sneeze, only to immediately transition into coughing.

"I'll be back in a sec"

He rushes quickly into the bathroom, because he clearly needs to take care of his father right now. Why did the rest of the family leave him alone?

He's done with his shower in record time, basically jumping into his pants so he can rush back out the door before the idiot nightmare can start doing something like cooking. Knowing him, he'd totally try to.

"Don't you even fucking dare leave the nest! Back in there!"

The startled SCP crawls back under the covers, until only his glowing red optics are visible. He looks like a kicked puppy, and not like the ancient being he is.

"I'm making you soup! Now stay there or I'm tattling on you to Sun!"

That's a proficient enough threat apparently, because his father stays in the nest for the duration of his soup making. He doesn't even dare to poke his head back out.

Might just be because he's that sick

"Here, eat this. If it doesn't feel good just tell me, you don't have to eat it all"

The sad miserable whine is only somewhat for show he thinks as large clawed hands reach for the comically small bowl, pulling it into the darkness where it disappears. After some slurping noises, the empty bowl is presented to him. He takes it with a sigh.

"Now scoot over"

"No"

"No?"

"You'll get sick..."

He sighs again, already looking towards the ceiling for patience.

"Killcode, I'm an animatronic. I can't get sick"

There's a second of quiet, then

"Oh, right"

And then the giant, sad pile of blankets is shuffling over, making him space. Eclipse takes it gladly, finally collapsing into the bed.

It's great. He's happy to be lying here. But he needs something else.

So he shimmies over until he can throw his arms and legs over the sad Killcode pile, burrowing into the warmth the SCP seems to exclude. He seems warmer than usual. Does he have a fever?

There's a bit of sad, miserable moaning, but then a large arm wraps around him, and pulls him under the blankets.

He melts into the contact, feeling his systems come alive in a happy purr he knows soothes the giant, burrowing his face into the large neck. His wraps his arms around the closest metal surface to himself and squeezes.

That familiar head nuzzles into his rays, and he's going to excuse the stressed nibbling on them as the SCP suffering because of his sickness, but he does slap at what he can now feel is a large side.

"Stop eating my rays"

The whine he gets might make someone believe he genuenly hurt him somehow, and didn't just ask him to please keep his saliva to himself. It makes him begin to pull away.

"Noooooo"

In a chidish move he didn't expect from his father he pulls him against his chest, trapping him against the hot metal. He even rolls over him, just so he can't escape.

"Get off of me!"

Killcode whines again, going limp. He only moves to pet and occasionally nuzzle him

Eclipse just sighs, settling in for a night of cuddling

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | An Unexpected Invitation | Chapter Two

Summary: Riley Carter never expected much from a simple text asking if she liked food, but Joe Burrow's direct approach catches her off guard in the best way. Between late nights at Electric Lady Studios finishing her band's new album and her growing anticipation for their first real date, Riley finds herself drawn to the NFL quarterback's refreshing authenticity. After a messy public breakup left her wary of relationships, especially with someone in the spotlight, she's surprised by her willingness to break her own rules for Joe. As their text exchanges and late-night calls deepen their connection, Riley faces a decision: maintain the careful distance she's built around her heart, or take a chance on someone new.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 3.2k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, flirty banter, mentions of past toxic relationships, public scrutiny, and undeniable chemistry.

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💕

Requests: Open

Author’s Note: Here we go! Sorry its late. This chapter is all about setting the foundation for Joe and Riley’s dynamic—playful, unexpected, and just a little bit risky. I love writing those early moments where two people click without fully realizing what they’re getting into. Their chemistry is building, and things are definitely about to get interesting. Let me know what you think! 😊💛

Riley stared at her phone, thumb hovering over the screen as she read Joe's message again.

Joe QB🏈: Do you like food?

A laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. Was this his idea of a smooth opener? It was so direct, so oddly simple, that she couldn't help but find it endearing. She'd had guys slide into her DMs with carefully crafted messages, obviously rehearsed lines, and pretentious attempts at intellectual conversation. But "Do you like food?" That was new.

She tapped out a response, deliberately matching his directness with a hint of playfulness.

Riley 🎤: Yes, QB. I like food. Love it, actually. I'm always down for a nice meal.

She hit send and set her phone down on the kitchen counter of her rented NYC apartment, turning her attention back to the coffee brewing in front of her. The rich aroma filled the small space, mingling with the distant wail of sirens and the perpetual hum of the city that filtered through her half-open window. She was only in the city for another week—just long enough to finish the studio sessions for her band's new album before heading back to LA for meetings with their label. She wasn't expecting a quick response—the guy probably had a rigorous schedule with his sponsor events and appearances while he was in town. But barely thirty seconds later, her phone buzzed.

Joe QB🏈: Alright then, wanna come over Friday night? I'll cook you dinner.

Riley nearly choked on her coffee. Well, that was unexpected. Not the invitation itself—she'd had plenty of those—but the casual confidence behind it. No "maybe we could" or "if you're free sometime." Just a straightforward invitation to his place, with the added detail that he'd be cooking. It struck her as both presumptuous and refreshing.

She hesitated, finger hovering over the keyboard. The sensible response would be to suggest a restaurant instead—something public, neutral, safe. That's what her publicist would advise. Hell, that's what she would advise any of her friends. Never go to a guy's place for a first date.

But then again, this wasn't exactly a normal situation. They'd already met on national television. He'd already admitted to having a crush on her in front of millions of viewers. And something about his straightforward approach intrigued her.

Riley 🎤: You're telling me Joe Burrow can cook?

His reply came almost instantly.

Joe QB🏈: Don't sound so surprised. I can follow a recipe.

She grinned, shaking her head at his confidence.

Riley 🎤: Guess we'll see if they're as good as your QB skills.

Setting down her phone, Riley leaned against the kitchen counter and took another sip of her coffee, a strange flutter of anticipation settling in her stomach. She'd just agreed to a date—was it a date?—with Joe Burrow. The same Joe Burrow who'd turned bright red on The Tonight Show when she'd walked out. The same Joe Burrow who'd kissed her cheek and asked for her number with that endearing mix of confidence and nervousness.

It had only been a few days since The Tonight Show, but Riley's life already felt a little... different. Not dramatically so—she was still working with her bandmates on their new album, still navigating the busy recording schedule, still trying to make the most of their limited time in NYC. But there was something new weaving its way through the familiar rhythms of her life: the constant presence of Joe Burrow in her text messages.

She wasn't sure what had possessed her to say yes to his casual "I'll cook you dinner" text, but here she was, letting him monopolize her phone in the best way possible. What started as a simple exchange about food turned into hours of texting—playful, funny, and way too easy.

Each notification from him sent a little jolt of anticipation through her system—a feeling she hadn't experienced in years. Maybe it was the novelty of it all. Or maybe it was just him.

She liked his sense of humor. It wasn't forced or over the top; it was subtle, the kind of humor that made her laugh without even realizing she was smiling. And he paid attention. He actually asked her questions, remembered things she'd told him, and sent follow-up texts that felt genuine rather than perfunctory.

Like yesterday, when she'd mentioned in passing that she was trying to cut back on caffeine, and twelve hours later, he'd texted to ask how the caffeine withdrawal was going. It was such a small thing, but so few people actually listened to the details.

Joe Burrow was nothing like she'd expected.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected. Most athletes she'd encountered at industry events or award shows had come across as cocky—all swagger and practiced charm, their public personas polished to a shine. But Joe seemed different. He texted like a normal person—sometimes with perfect grammar, sometimes with abbreviations, occasionally with a meme that made no sense out of context but somehow made her laugh anyway.

There was something steady about him that settled her, a calm confidence that never veered into arrogance. In an industry where she was constantly surrounded by big personalities and bigger egos, his groundedness felt like stepping into a quiet room after hours in a crowded club.

And maybe that was why she didn't slam on the brakes like she normally would have. Why she was willing to consider having dinner at his place rather than insisting on a public restaurant with an escape route.

With a sigh, Riley set her empty coffee mug in the sink and headed to the studio. She had work to do, and she couldn't spend the entire morning analyzing text messages like a teenager. But as she settled in front of her keyboard, her phone buzzed again.

Joe QB🏈: What are you up to tonight?

She smiled, typing back quickly.

Riley 🎤: At Electric Lady. Long night ahead.

The response was immediate.

Joe QB🏈: What's Electric Lady?

Riley stared at the screen, momentarily taken aback. Was he serious? Electric Lady was legendary—practically hallowed ground for musicians. But then again, not everyone lived in her world, did they?

Riley 🎤: You're kidding.

Joe QB🏈: I'm not.

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. There was something endearing about his willingness to admit he didn't know something.

Riley 🎤: It's only one of the most iconic recording studios in NYC. Hendrix built it. Bowie recorded there. Springsteen, Patti Smith, The Clash... Do I need to keep going?

Joe QB🏈: Alright, alright. I get it. Sounds cool.

Riley snorted. "Sounds cool." As if she'd mentioned a trendy new coffee shop rather than one of the most significant musical landmarks in the city.

Riley 🎤: Cool doesn't even begin to cover it. It's my happy place when I'm in the city. Something about the history in those walls... it's like you can feel it when you're creating there.

There was a pause before his next message—longer than his previous replies had been.

Joe QB🏈: You sound like you're working late a lot this week.

The observation surprised her. Most people—especially people she'd just met—didn't notice or comment on her schedule unless she explicitly mentioned being tired or busy.

Riley 🎤: Yes, we are on a roll. We're finishing the bridge on this new track that's giving us hell. It's either going to be the best thing on the album or drive us all insane before we get it right.

She set her phone down, turning her attention to the keyboard in front of her. Her fingers drifted across the keys, finding the melody that had been haunting her for days—an insistent, driving sequence that contrasted with the vulnerability of the lyrics she'd been working on. It was the kind of song that would have their fans holding up lighters at shows, a perfect arena anthem with just enough raw emotion to make it personal.

But her mind kept drifting back to their conversation. To the way he actually seemed to care about what she was doing, not just when she'd be free to see him.

The rest of the week followed a similar pattern. When she wasn't at Electric Lady, she was either catching up on sleep or texting Joe. It was quickly becoming her favorite way to wind down after her long nights in the studio.

In the back of a sleek black Escalade, Manhattan's lights refracting through rain-streaked windows, her phone lit up with his name. Not a text this time—a call. She hesitated for only a second before answering.

"Isn't it past your bedtime, Burrow?" she teased, leaning back against the leather seat.

A low chuckle filled her ear. "Probably. But I figured you'd still be up."

"Good guess," she replied, watching the city lights blur past her window. "Just heading back to my place from the studio."

"How's the mysterious project going?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

This was what continued to surprise her about Joe. He was curious about her work, and unlike other people who would ask about her career out of politeness, Joe actually seemed interested in the details. It threw her off at first. She wasn't used to someone wanting to know her, not just the version of her that showed up on red carpets and album covers.

"It's going well," she said, more openly than she might have with someone else. "Today was mostly vocal tracking—the less glamorous part where I sing the same line fifty times until it's perfect."

"Sounds exhausting," Joe commented.

"It can be. But there's something satisfying about getting it exactly right. The guys are patient, though. Andy, our drummer, is practically a saint when it comes to vocal sessions. Nick keeps us laughing even when we're ready to kill each other over a single note."

"I get that," he said, and she could hear the understanding in his voice. "It's like when we run the same play over and over in practice. Looks boring from the outside, but there's something about the repetition, the precision..."

"Exactly," Riley said, surprised by how well he seemed to understand. "Different fields, same principle. The pursuit of that perfect execution where everything just clicks."

There was a comfortable pause before Joe spoke again. "So, we still on for tomorrow? Or are you going to be too wiped from your late nights?"

She smiled into the darkness of the car. "I'll be there. Seven o'clock, right?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I've already started prepping some things."

"Wow, taking this seriously, huh?" she teased.

"Can't have America's dream girl thinking I can't cook, can I?"

Riley groaned at the reference to the media nickname that had stuck after their Tonight Show appearance. "Please don't call me that."

Joe laughed, the sound warm and rich through the phone. "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"Uh-huh. I'm hanging up now," she said, though there was no bite to her words.

"Goodnight, Riley," he said, his voice softening.

"Goodnight, Joe," she replied, ending the call with a smile lingering on her lips.

The car pulled up to her building, rain now falling in earnest. As she dashed inside, nodding to the night doorman, she realized she was actually looking forward to tomorrow night in a way she hadn't anticipated. There was something about Joe's direct approach, his genuine interest, his unexpected moments of vulnerability that made her want to know more.

Their calls had quickly developed a rhythm of their own. Late at night, her phone would light up just as she was finishing at the studio.

Their conversations rarely lasted more than ten minutes, but she found herself looking forward to them—this small, consistent connection across the miles between their separate worlds.

But as much as she was enjoying their easy back-and-forth, a part of her couldn't help but hesitate. A part of her kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the easy conversations to turn complicated, for the red flags to appear, for the inevitable letdown.

Her last relationship had left scars she hadn't realized were still there. Her ex—another musician, a guitarist whose talent was matched only by his volatility—had been part of her life for far too long. They'd spent years in an on-again, off-again cycle that was as exhausting as it was destructive. The kind of relationship that burned so hot it left everything around it in ashes, including the early days of her band when they were just starting to gain traction.

The breakup had been messy, the kind that made headlines and left her name plastered all over the tabloids. Paparazzi outside her house, speculative articles about who had cheated on whom, invasive questions in interviews that were supposed to be about her band's music. Her personal life dissected on social media by people who knew nothing about the actual relationship.

She still remembered the sting of the public fallout. The embarrassment. The frustration of people weighing in on something they knew nothing about. The way strangers felt entitled to judge her decisions, her emotions, her life.

After finally walking away for good, she'd sworn off relationships entirely. Not just publicly, but privately as well. She'd made a promise to herself: no more losing herself in someone else's orbit, no more putting her needs second, no more drama that derailed her creative focus.

She'd thrown herself into her career, traveled the world alone, and learned how to be happy without needing someone else to fill the gaps. And for the most part, it had worked. She'd become someone she was proud of, someone she didn't think she could've been if she hadn't taken time for herself.

The band's latest album—the one that had catapulted them from indie darlings to mainstream recognition—had emerged from that period of self-discovery. Their sound had evolved into something more powerfully honest, with electric guitar-driven anthems balanced by moments of intimate vulnerability. Critics had praised their ability to blend raw emotional lyrics with radio-ready hooks, and fans had responded to that authenticity in droves.

She still remembered the moment they realized things had changed for good—a sold-out show in London where the entire crowd sang their lyrics back to them so loudly that she'd had to step away from the mic, overwhelmed by the wall of sound. The guys had looked at her with the same stunned expression, all of them realizing simultaneously that they'd crossed some invisible threshold.

After a year of being single, Riley had found a comfortable rhythm in her independence. She'd learned what she actually wanted: someone who would respect her work while still making her feel cherished. Someone who understood her world without trying to dominate it. Despite the walls she'd built during her recovery from that toxic relationship, she was ready to open herself up again—just cautiously, and on her own terms.

So when Joe Burrow appeared with his straightforward texts and genuine interest, she found herself intrigued in a way she hadn't expected. There was something refreshing about his approach, something that made her curious enough to say yes to dinner at his place despite all her usual rules.

The truth was, she wasn't sure she was ready for anything serious, especially given their careers and geographical distance. But for the first time in a long while, she was willing to at least explore the possibility.

Friday morning arrived with unexpected anxiety. Riley found herself second-guessing her decision to go to Joe's place, wondering if she should text to suggest a restaurant instead. But before she could overthink it further, her phone rang.

Riley was still in bed when her phone buzzed, Joe's name lighting up the screen. She groaned softly, pulling the blanket over her head before answering.

"Hello?" Her voice was still husky with sleep.

"Morning, Riley," Joe said, his voice light and teasing. "Just checking to make sure we're still on for tonight."

She rolled onto her back, blinking up at the ceiling as she smirked. "Why are you calling me so early, Burrow? Don't you know I like to sleep late?"

"Early?" Joe laughed, and she could practically hear the grin in his voice. "It's eleven."

"Exactly. Early," she quipped, running a hand through her tangled hair. "I told you I like to sleep late, especially after a long night at the studio."

Joe chuckled on the other end of the line, the sound warm and relaxed. "Guess I'll have to keep that in mind. But I needed to make sure you weren't backing out on me."

There was something in his tone—a hint of vulnerability beneath the confident teasing—that made her heart soften a little. As if despite all his self-assurance, he genuinely wasn't sure she'd show up. It was those glimpses of real person behind the quarterback that kept drawing her in.

She rolled onto her side, smiling to herself. "Not a chance. I'm looking forward to tonight."

Joe's voice was playful when he responded. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she admitted easily, surprising herself with her own honesty. "You say you're cooking a meal for me. That's really sweet. I can't wait to see what you come up with."

"Just a heads-up to manage your expectations," Joe said, a touch of self-deprecation in his voice that she found oddly charming. "We're not talking culinary genius here."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. What time do you want me there?" Riley asked, sitting up and pushing the blankets aside. Sunlight streamed through the gap in her curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the still air.

"Seven," he said without hesitation, as if he'd had the time planned all along.

"Perfect," she said, already mentally planning what she was going to wear. Something casual but flattering. Something that said "I made an effort" without screaming "I spent three hours getting ready for you."

She had a busy day ahead—a final vocal session, then a meeting with their manager about the upcoming tour schedule. The album wouldn't be out for months, but they needed to lock in venues for the fall tour now. Eleven cities in fourteen days, starting on the East Coast and working their way west. The thought of the grueling schedule would normally make her anxious, but today it seemed manageable. A problem for future Riley.

There was a brief pause before he added, his voice warm with amusement, "Do I need to send you a calendar invite so you don't forget?"

Riley laughed, the sound more carefree than she'd felt in a while. "I'll be there, Burrow. Don't worry—I wouldn't miss this."

Joe chuckled. "Good. I'll see you tonight then."

"See you tonight," she echoed, ending the call and dropping her phone onto the mattress beside her.

She exhaled, staring at the ceiling for a moment, a strange mix of anticipation and nerves swirling in her stomach. This wasn't just some guy she'd matched with on a dating app. This was Joe Burrow. NFL quarterback. Someone who lived as much in the public eye as she did, whose career came with its own unique pressures and scrutiny. Someone who seemed like he might actually understand her world in a way few others could.

But more than that, this was someone who made her laugh, who paid attention, who showed genuine interest in her life beyond the glamorous surface. Someone who didn't seem intimidated by her success or intent on competing with it.

A slow smile tugged at her lips as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had a date to prepare for.

Yeah. She was definitely looking forward to this.

[theabstruseone]

I slept in and just woke up, so here's what I've been able to figure out while sipping coffee:

Twitter has officially rebranded to X just a day or two after the move was announced.

The official branding is that a tweet is now called "an X", for which there are too many jokes to make.

The official account is still @twitter because someone else owns @X and they didn't reclaim the username first.

The logo is 𝕏 which is the Unicode character Unicode U+1D54F so the logo cannot be copyrighted and it is highly likely that it cannot be protected as a trademark.

Outside the visual logo, the trademark for the use of the name "X" in social media is held by Meta/Facebook, while the trademark for "X" in finance/commerce is owned by Microsoft.

The rebranding has been stopped in Japan as the term "X Japan" is trademarked by the band X JAPAN.

Elon had workers taking down the "Twitter" name from the side of the building. He did not have any permits to do this. The building owner called the cops who stopped the crew midway through so the sign just says "er".

He still plans to call his streaming and media hosting branch of the company as "Xvideo". Nobody tell him.

This man wants you to give him control over all of your financial information.

Edit to add further developments:

Yes, this is all real. Check the notes and people have pictures. I understand the skepticism because it feels like a joke, but to the best of my knowledge, everything in the above is accurate.

Microsoft also owns the trademark on X for chatting and gaming because, y'know, X-box.

The logo came from a random podcaster who tweeted it at Musk.

The act of sending a tweet is now known as "Xeet". They even added a guide for how to Xeet.

The branding change is inconsistent. Some icons have changed, some have not, and the words "tweet" and "Twitter" are still all over the place on the site.

TweetDeck is currently unaffected and I hope it's because they forgot that it exists again. The complete negligence toward that tool and just leaving it the hell alone is the only thing that makes the site usable (and some of us are stuck on there for work).

This is likely because Musk was forced out of PayPal due to a failed credit line project and because he wanted to rename the site to "X-Paypal" and eventually just to "X".

This became a big deal behind the scenes as Musk paid over $1 million for the domain X.com and wanted to rebrand the company that already had the brand awareness people were using it as a verb to "pay online" (as in "I'll paypal you the money")

X.com is not currently owned by Musk. It is held by a domain registrar (I believe GoDaddy but I'm not entirely sure). Meaning as long as he's hung onto this idea of making X Corp a thing, he couldn't be arsed to pay the $15/year domain renewal.

Bloomberg estimates the rebranding wiped between $4 to $20 billion from the valuation of Twitter due to the loss of brand awareness.

The company was already worth less than half of the $44 billion Musk paid for it in the first place, meaning this may end up a worse deal than when Yahoo bought Tumblr.

One estimation (though this is with a grain of salt) said that Twitter is three months from defaulting on its loans taken out to buy the site. Those loans were secured with Tesla stock. Meaning the bank will seize that stock and, since it won't be enough to pay the debt (since it's worth around 50-75% of what it was at the time of the loan), they can start seizing personal assets of Elon Musk including the Twitter company itself and his interest in SpaceX.

Sesame Street's official accounts mocked the rebranding.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

SOMEONE TO STAY

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: when rafe’s girlfriend doesn’t show up to his safe house during a hurricane he fears the worst, and wonders if he’ll get to tell her that he loves her.

based on this ask !! i hope this is what you wanted anon :) i wasn’t sure if you meant pogue!reader or actually meant pogue!rafe so i kept this open as to not interpret it incorrectly !!

A/N: my drew starkey & characters masterlist is here !!

WARNINGS: cursing, hurricane, fear of loved ones dying, crying, panic attack, arguments, angsty love confession, angst to fluff !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SECOND PERSON +

The storm came fast and without mercy. What had started as a mild tropical storm rapidly intensified into a Category 4 hurricane barrelling toward the Outer Banks. Mandatory evacuation orders were issued for the Pogues and parts of the Cut, but for the Kooks in Figure Eight, the luxury of reinforced homes and private shelters meant hunkering down. The air felt thick with panic and pressure as everyone prepared for the worst.

Rafe had been at his father's old office on the more secure side of the island, trying to sort out some financial mess left behind by Ward, when the weather reports turned grim. His phone buzzed incessantly with texts and calls from people checking in or offering refuge. But Rafe didn't care about any of them.

He cared about one person.

"Y/N, just listen to me for once!" Rafe snapped, pacing the office as the storm began to howl outside. His voice was sharp, desperate even, as he tried to reason with his girlfriend. "Don't try to be a hero. Don't stop for anything. Just get in your car and come straight to the safe house. I'll meet you there."

"Rafe, I'll be fine," you said over the phone, your voice calm but firm. "I'm already on my way."

"You're sure? I can come get you. I should come get you," he pressed, running a hand through his hair. "This storm's getting worse by the second. I don't want you driving in this."

"I've got it under control," you reassured him, a smile in your tone even though he couldn't see it. "I'll see you soon."

But the second the line went dead, unease settled deep in Rafe's chest. He tried to tell himself you were capable, smart, and resourceful—qualities he loved about you. Still, that didn't stop the gnawing anxiety that clawed at him as he headed toward the safe house.

—

The drive was hellish. Rain lashed against your windshield, the wipers barely able to keep up. Floodwaters licked at the sides of the road as you maneuvered carefully toward Figure Eight. It wasn't long before you lost signal entirely, your phone cutting off mid-text to Rafe. You cursed under your breath but pressed on.

You'd been almost to the safe house when a thought struck you like lightning. Earlier that week, Rafe had been pouring over some old financial records and papers that he needed for his next move with the family business. He'd spent hours meticulously going through them, and you knew they were stored in his father's house.

Your chest tightened. If the storm destroyed everything, Rafe would lose all that work. Against better judgment, you turned onto the road leading to Tannyhill. You told yourself it wouldn't take long—just in and out.

By the time you made it to the safe house, it was well past dark, and the storm had intensified. The wind howled like a living thing, rattling the reinforced windows and slamming against the door as you stumbled in, soaked to the bone.

"Rafe?" you called, setting the plastic bag containing the saved papers down on a table. "I'm here."

It took less than ten seconds for him to appear. His hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled from hours of pacing. The moment his eyes landed on you, relief flickered across his face—but it was quickly replaced by something far darker.

"Where the hell have you been?" he shouted, storming toward you. His voice was a mix of anger and panic, his chest heaving as he stopped in front of you. "I've been calling you for hours! Do you have any idea—" His voice broke, and he ran a hand down his face. "I thought something happened to you."

"Rafe, I'm fine," you said, trying to placate him. "I—"

"You're not fine!" he snapped, his voice rising again. "You think this is fine? Driving through a hurricane, ignoring my calls—what were you even doing?" His eyes darted to the bag on the table, and something clicked. "You stopped for papers?"

"Rafe, I know how important they are to you—"

"Papers?" he interrupted, his voice incredulous. "You risked your life for some stupid papers?"

"They're not stupid!" you fired back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "You've been working so hard on this, and I didn't want you to lose it all."

"I don't care about the damn papers!" he yelled, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "Don't you get it? I don't care about any of that fucking shit if it means losing you!"

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, his breathing growing erratic. His hands trembled as he backed away, pressing his palms to his temples. "I can't—God, I can't do this," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you were dead, Y/N. I thought I lost you out there.”

"Rafe—"

"You're all I have," he said, his voice breaking completely as tears streamed down his face. "You're all I have, and I can't lose you. I won't survive it."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the raw vulnerability in his voice leaving you momentarily stunned. You stepped toward him cautiously, reaching out to touch his arm. "Rafe, I'm here. I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm right here."

But he didn't seem to hear you, his breathing growing more rapid as he sank onto the couch. His chest heaved, and his hands gripped the edge of the cushion like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You knelt in front of him, your heart aching at the sight of him falling apart. "Rafe, look at me," you said firmly, taking his hands in yours. They were cold and clammy, shaking like leaves in the storm outside. "Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe."

He tried to match your breaths, but his body refused to cooperate. Desperation clawed at him, his gaze wild and unfocused. "I can't—I can't—"

"Yes, you can," you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. You guided one of his hands to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your heartbeat. "Feel that? I'm still breathing. I'm still alive. I'm here, Rafe."

Something shifted in his eyes as he focused on the steady rhythm beneath his hand. He gripped your shirt like a lifeline, his breathing slowly evening out. "You're here," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "You're here."

"That's right," you said, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The storm raged on outside, but inside, the only sound was the quiet rise and fall of your breaths. Finally, Rafe pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it almost hurt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair. "I'm sorry for yelling. I was just so scared."

"I know," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "I'm sorry, too. I should've just come straight here."

He pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his blue eyes searching yours. "I don't say this enough—or at all—but you mean everything to me, Y/N. I don't know what I'd do without you. You’re my whole world. Not work, not money, not anything; you. I love you, so fucking much.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they were from something far warmer than fear. "I love you, too," you said, leaning into his touch.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms as the storm began to lose its fury. Whatever chaos the hurricane had brought, it couldn't touch the calm you found in each other.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope this is what you wanted anon !! this was such a cute one to write and i love me some angst to fluff😫

pls request some more angst guys !! i absolutely LOVE writing it :) and as always, likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[ddejavvu]

hiii! i was wondering if i could request a hotch x bau! reader where they’re dating and they vouch to keep their work life and love life separate but they’re both terrible at hiding how protective they are over eachother

"I'll stay here." Reid decides, already knee-deep in maps and colored pens, as if anyone thought he'd jump up and volunteer to interview the victim's family.

"Right." Aaron nods, "JJ and Prentiss are already on their way to the last crime scene."

"That leaves us to canvass the unsub's safe zone." Rossi glances between you, Aaron, and Morgan, "Y/N, come with me-"

"No." Aaron interjects, stoicism returning just as quickly as it had been abandoned.

"O-kay," Morgan glances at Hotch with a furrowed brow, misinterpreting Hotch's protests, "Y/N, come with me. They can talk about old white man stuff in the car, or whatever they're gonna do."

"No." Aaron repeats, just as unhelpful as the first time he'd said it.

You're squirming on your feet, now. He's not being subtle, even if he is being confusing. Derek and Rossi may not know why Aaron wants to keep you with him, but now they know that he does, and you're sure it won't take them long to discern why he doesn't want you gallivanting across a potential crime scene with anyone other than him.

"Right... So you take Y/N, then." Rossi says what Hotch won't, "That's okay, Morgan and I can talk about whatever's up your butt today while we're driving."

If it were anyone but Rossi, they'd have ended up with desk duty for eight weeks. But both men manage to escape sharing a snicker at Hotch's expense, and you follow dutifully after your boss as he leads you out to one of the SUVs in the parking lot.

You're waiting for the closing of his door to begin scolding him for his reckless, but he decides to make the situation ten times worse by beating you to the car and holding your door open for you. You're sure Rossi and Morgan are watching from their own SUV, and you're glad the windows are up so that you don't have to hear their jeering.

"Hotch," You speak through tightly clenched teeth, but you get in without protest, and you huff as you slam the seatbelt into its latch, which Aaron waits for before he closes your door.

"You're not subtle." You speak the second that his door shuts, "Aaron, did you forget all of our coworkers are profilers? They're going to figure us out if you don't stop giving us away like that!"

"I don't care if they figure us out." Aaron admits, hands on the wheel though his attention stays on you as he pointedly stays parked, "I don't feel comfortable letting you enter a potentially dangerous situation with anyone but me."

"Morgan wouldn't let anything happen to me," You bargain, "And neither would Rossi. Hell, you think a criminal's gonna try fighting Derek to get to me? No one's crazy enough to go up against those muscles."

"But they would be looking to take down the unsub first, and thinking of you second. I'm thinking of you first."

A thick silence hangs in the air after his words; perhaps he's realizing what he's just said- it's weight, its implications.

You put it into words, "That's not professional, Hotch. That's- that's not how a profiler is supposed to act."

"Well then I guess I'm not a very good profiler anymore." He concedes, sighing as he turns to face the road and begins driving, now minutes behind Rossi and Morgan, "Just stay with me, and let me protect you."

[illusioninfnty]

I'll Take You to Heaven

જ⁀➴ Childhood Best Friends : Day 7

feat. Josh Washington ᯓ★ A game of seven minutes in heaven has you and your best friend revealing your feelings for each other...and then some.

warnings! : NSFW 18+, takes place during prologue, dual virgins, dry humping, fingering, handjob, getting caught (kind of)

ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“Ugh, c’mon, it’ll be fun!” Jess tugs at your arm, annoyed at your resistance to her suggestion—a game of seven minutes in heaven.

“There is no way in hell I’m agreeing to that,” you say. Tensions were already high in your friend group, and you didn’t want any fights happening while all of you were stuck in the Washington’s cabin for a weekend, stuck in the middle of the snowy mountains. Emily was pissed because Hannah had feelings for Mike, Chris and Ashley had feelings for each other and refused to tell the other, and you didn’t want to even think about what Jess was doing with getting close to Mike. You didn’t want to be around to witness the inevitable chaos this game would bring.

But really, you couldn’t be one to talk. You, Chris, and Josh had been inseparable since you were kids, and throughout your time of being friends with Josh you had slowly developed a crush on him. You knew you could never tell him, for fear of ruining your friendship. You valued him too much to risk that.

“You’re so booooring.” Jess rolls her eyes at you, before whispering into your ear.

“Shut up!” You yank your arm out of her grasp, heat rising to your face. “What the fuck do you know about that? That’s not why!”

Her eyes light up. “So it is true!” A smirk rises to her face, but before she can say anything else, a hand falls against your shoulder.

“Ooh, what’re we whispering about over here? Keeping secrets from dear old Joshie, are ya?”

Mortified that Josh almost heard you guys, you almost want to hug Jess for speaking first as you can’t find anything to say.

“Hey Josh. You’ll play, right?”

He grins. “You know I’m down for anything.”

“Well,” Jess turns back to you, “you need to convince her to join us. Such a party pooper.”

Josh turns to you and throws his arm around your shoulders, forcing you to lean into his side. “Aw, c’mon honey, you can’t leave me alone with these idiots.”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, knowing you didn’t have it in you to deny Josh. “Let’s play this stupid game.”

Jess squeals as she grabs your arm, leading you (and Josh, who’s hand hasn’t left you) into the living room, where everyone is seated on the large carpet.

“Look who I’ve found!” Jess says in a sing-songy voice. Cheers ring out and the group opens up some space on the floor for the three of you to sit. You and Jess take a seat between Ashley and Matt, while Josh sits next to Chris, almost directly across from you.

“You’re first.” Emily says, shoving the empty glass bottle in your direction. “Since you were the last one to show.”

You didn’t have the strength in you to protest, hoping that this game will be over quickly and hopefully no fights break out. You just wanted one quiet night without any of your friends arguing with each other.

As you spin the bottle, you just pray it lands on someone who you knew you could actually deal with being alone for seven minutes, like Beth or Sam.

But as long as it didn’t land on Josh, you were okay with it.

The bottle slowly comes to a stop, and you see the neck of it facing opposite of you.

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes slowly move up to see the person the bottle points towards, and you’re met with Josh’s green eyes staring right into you.

Just your fucking luck.

Jess giggles from beside you as she drags you to stand up. Josh slowly gets up across from you, strangely quiet as Chris seems to nudge him slightly.

As Josh steps his way around the group, Jess grabs you both and pulls you away. “Have fun in there, lovebirds!”

“Yeah, don’t forget to wear protection, man!” Mike calls out from behind you. You stick up your middle finger behind you and you and Josh enter the designated space for this game, a fairly spacious storage closet with only the moon providing you two with any sort of light.

As the door locks you plop down onto the floor, your head falling into your hands. You hear Josh take a seat next to you, a hand coming onto your shoulder as he rubs circles into it with his thumb.

“What’s got you down, honey? Thought we were supposed to have fun tonight.”

“It’s nothing.” You sigh, turning to your friend. “Really, I’m okay.” You wince with how fake it sounds as it leaves your lips. You hated lying to Josh, but how the hell were you supposed to tell him you’ve been in love with him for years.

“Really?” Josh raises an eyebrow. “’Cause you’ve barely spoken to me all day.”

You throw your head back, your actions of trying to make sure Josh doesn’t find out about your crush on him finally catching up to you.

“What is it then?”

His voice is firm, and you know by that tone there’s no way you can avoid the topic now.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you mutter.

“Oh yeah? Try me. We’ve known each other for years, I’m sure I’ve heard it all.”

“You haven’t heard that I’ve been in love with you since the sixth grade.”

He lets out a laugh, and your heart drops to your stomach. “Sixth grade? That’s when I had pimples and shit!”

You can’t help but laugh along with him, giving him a punch in his shoulder. “Shut up. I didn’t say I had good taste, did I?”

“Even if you didn't, it sure as hell works out for me, considering I’ve liked you even longer than that.”

You grow silent at his words, taking in what he said. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not.” He narrows his eyes. “Unless you’re fucking with me?”

“Why would I be fucking with you?” Josh stays silent and you roll your eyes. “Don’t piss me off, dude.” You go to push against him to get more space but Josh grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers with his own. Your heart starts beating rapidly in your chest feeling his warm palm against your own.

“Please don’t call me dude before I’m about to kiss you.”

You gasp as Josh leans in and captures your lips, closing your eyes and indulging in the sensation. The kiss feels clumsy, his lips clashing against your own in a way that exposes the lack of experience, but it's made up for with passion. Josh leans into you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you allow yourself to fall into his embrace. Your hands come up to either side of his head, one moving to run itself through his hair as he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away just as you do to get some air. You both pant heavily, staring at each other, and a bead of saliva that connects you two breaks.

A grin breaks out across Josh’s face, and a shy smile finds its way onto yours. He rests his forehead against your own, bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that for,” he murmurs.

“Trust me,” you say, “I know.”

“Four minutes!” You hear Jess from outside faintly, and you jump slightly in Josh’s hold. “There better be some action going on in there!”

“Guess we better give the people what they want.”

“Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

Your lips find his again in an instant, and this time this kiss is more desperate—more passionate. Josh’s hands run up and down your body and you moan into him, your back arching as your breasts squish themselves against his chest. You’re sitting in his lap now from how close you two are, and you start to move your hips against Josh. Josh groans into your mouth, and you take that as an opportunity to shove your tongue in there. Your tongues clash as you sloppily make out, drool escaping your lips as you clumsily figure out the best way to do it.

Josh ruts his hips up into you, keeping you still with his hands around your waist. His cock hardens against you, and the friction of his jeans rubbing into your clothed slit has you moaning into the kiss. His hands tug at your hair, and you already know that it’s going to be hard explaining the mess of it when your time is up.

You break away from the kiss as a particular loud moan leaves your lips, inside choosing to bite into Josh’s shoulder as a way to conceal your noises.

“Wait,” you say, before you and Josh go any farther. He looks up at you expectantly. “I haven’t done anything like this before,” you admit, nervous about your lack of experience.

Josh smiles, running a hand across the back of his neck. “Me neither. We can figure it out together.”

Pride washes over you at being Josh’s first, even though you know it’s not something you really have to be too happy about. But you’ve grown up with the guy, pretty much experiencing all of life together with him. It only made sense that you had each other’s firsts in this way, too.

You let yourself fall back into Josh’s embrace as one of his hands leaves your waist to reach into your sweatpants. It takes him a bit of fumbling but he eventually finds your pussy, teasing it through your soaked underwear. The squelching sounds of your wetness cause you to bury your face into the crook of his neck, embarrassed by how obvious your arousal was.

Josh chuckles at your reaction, his fingers continuing to pet you and you buck your hips into them.

“S-shut up,” you argue weakly, not wanting to see his face as he teases you.

“Didn’t say anything,” he whispers into your ear.

You figure that the only way to get Josh to stop teasing you was to beat him at his own game. Your hands reach down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, and you hear a halt in breath as his fingers falter slightly in their rhythm as you stick your hand down his pants, palming at his bulge.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “feels good.”

You hum, moving your hand across his bulge as he ruts his hips against you. He leaves kisses up and down your neck, causing you to gasp and squeeze him harder, a groan tumbling from him.

“Fuck yeah, hon, keep doing that.”

You finally move your hand into his underwear, wrapping it around the full girth of his cock as you stroke him at that same pace of his fingers pumping in and out of you.

“Josh,” you whine, pressing your body to him as close as you can. “Gonna cum.” One of your hands digs into his backside trying to find some stability as the other continues to stroke him.

His pace quickens and broken moans escape you as you buck into him frantically, a loud moan falling from you orgasm onto his fingers.

Josh isn’t too far behind as you hear a groan from him and a warm stickiness envelopes your fingers. 

You reach around and thankfully find a roll of paper towels in the storage closet to wipe your hands with.

Josh leans up and kisses you, and you sigh into it, bartering with yourself that it’ll be the last one before you’ll begin cleaning yourself up.

“I am approaching the door.”

Chris’s voice rings out as you and Josh jump back, eyes wide as you stare at each other.

“I am about to put my hand on the doorknob.”

“Fuck,” you groan, hastily trying to fix your appearance so that you don’t look like you were two seconds away from fucking.

The door opens and Chris stands in front of you two, an unamused look across his face.

“You’re lucky I was able to convince Jess to let me do this,” Chris sighs, turning his head away for a brief moment so that you and Josh can try to make yourselves look a little bit more presentable. “Although I think I’m the unlucky one now.”

Josh turns to you, snickering. “Aww, honey. Cochise cares about us!”

“Ooh, you loooove us.” You imitate exaggerated kisses in Chris’s direction, and then give Josh a kiss on his cheek.

“Man, I’m really gonna have to be the third wheel now,” you hear him mutter to himself, although loud enough that you and Josh can still hear.

“Ashley’s still waiting for you,” you tell him, teasingly.

“Fuck you, guys,” he retorts, spinning back around and walking back towards the living room. “I’m gonna need a drink after this.”

Josh pouts mockingly as he holds your hand. “Aw man, without us? Don’t worry, we’re all gonna get drunk off our asses tonight.”

Chris shrugs. “Go crazy, I guess. I really hope you two aren’t some of those horny drunks.”

You wink at him as the three of you cross into the living room, the sounds of your friends’ voices growing louder. “Can’t promise you anything, bud.”

[nkogneatho]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

—characters: oliver, shidou, sae.

—cw: fem!reader, fingering, pearl necklace, overstimulation, finger sucking, not proofread.

—a/n: i need lobotomy. you do too if you're reading this shit.

𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

oliver's hands are thick and has arms full of veins. he is not exactly a workout freak but he does fair amount of sets during practice resulting in his amazing physique. his fingers are girthy and he has amazing control over them.

oliver likes to spend his time with his fingers up your pussy, stretching your hole with his thick digits. he loves the feeling of your wetness dripping down his knuckles as he pumps them inside you.

"nasty little pussy. always so greedy, right, babe?" he whispers against your ears. "gimme one more and i promise i'll put my cock in then." you know he's lying. you've already came thrice and he's been repeating the same damn thing but won't stop fingering you. you can feel his erection poking your lower back, your pussy fluttering and craving more. too bad. aiku will only pull his fingers out when he wants to and not when you want to.

"oli...ngh—gunna cum," you mewl as your body tightens.

"let go, baby. 'm right here. cum on my fingers, yeah?" and you do, legs shivering as they close up, trapping his arms in place. when you calm down. aiku gives you peck on your head and you finally think he's gonna put it in. finally. "let's see if you can take four fingers." fucking hell.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈

shidou's hands are very veiny even when he is not flexing his muscles. but i doubt this man is ever relaxed because he is on adrenaline 24x7. his skin is glowing with melanin so each nerve is visible. he works out a lot. well his workout is divided in two sections. gym and good old sex.

ryu's favorite thing to do with his hands are massage your tits. massage would be and understatement 'cause this man is full on groping, pinching and abusing them. your poor nipples are always sore when he is done with you. don't get me wrong. he loves to suck on them too. but something about fondling them while thrusting in you gets him off so much. even more lovely when he spits on them and smears them with his thumb.

"got such a sexy set on ya, babe. fhuuuck. gonna make me shoot a load just with this. ya won' mind if i slap them yeah?"

*slap*

you hiss at the sensation. "shit. did my pretty pussy just clenched? fucking hell. ah! my balls are tightening," he moans. you think he's gonna cum inside you but shidou pulls out faster than a lightning, his veiny hands tightening and stroking his cock as he aims for your tits. and just in a second, he is shooting thick translucent ropes all over them. he takes his palm and spread his cum all over your tits. "fuck. jus' like a glazed donut." he takes a lick. "best fucking donut ever."

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

given sae's slender yet washboard ab physique, his hands are long. not full of veins but his knuckles are very visible and it's so hot. his veins show when he is working out, pissed or...horny. sae didn't know he had attractive hands and he was dating a person who has a hand kink. what he did know was you loved to always suckle on his thumb when his palm rests on your jaw while dry humping you. so sae tries to push it further this time.

you're sitting and reading a book on the couch before sae's shadow towers over you. you shoot your head up, looking at him with confused eyes. he scans your face for a minute before speaking.

"open," he commands. you're not sure at first what he means but the way his green eyes are fixated on your mouth, your jaw instinctively follows his command like a servant. before you can grasp the situation, sae's middle and ring finger are already in your mouth. he let's you suckle on them for a few seconds and he's quick to start thrusting them. he might have just discovered that you have a hand kink is pretty convenient for him too 'cause the boner he popped might be the fastest ever.

"i am fucked," is all he says before thrusting his digits deeper, his other hand palming his cock through his gray sweats. his biceps buldge out and his veins pop when he fists his dick so you deliver the most appropriate reaction. a moan and a whimper that vibrate around his fingers sending shivers in his body. he's right. he is fucked. and so are you.

[angellcherry]

— home.

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, nsfw

» synopsis: “show me your thorns, and I'll show you hands ready to bleed.”

» warnings: allusions to depression, brief mentions of self harm (nothing graphic!), a little bit of angst, cuddling, reassurance, jungkook is a big green flag, talks of therapy and healing, confessions, lots of kisses, he's down bad and so in love :( (they both are), pet names, soft!dom jk, slight size kink, missionary bc he needs to look at her and kiss her 😩, praise, dirty talk, choking, creampie, aftercare

His hand curled around the nape of your neck the moment your lips touched. Warmth trickled down your spine, and he titled his head; tongue prodding at your soft lips, like he wanted you down to the marrow. Like he wanted to dip into your soul, kiss after kiss, until he was completely submerged; until he's explored every nook and crevice, felt every bump and crack.

He pulled away from the heat of your mouth slowly, reluctantly, eyes half lidded and dark. Lungs expanding to take in more air, voice coming out hoarse.

"You weren't answering your phone..."

"I know," you whispered, "I'm sorry."

Jungkook shook his head.

"No need to be sorry, baby," he lifted your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the soft skin there. "I was just worried."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in closer. You sank into his embrace so easily; like you just came home. In a way, you have. He hasn't seen you in over a week...

It may not have seemed like much, but your absence was tangible. Suffocating. Especially when he didn't know if something was wrong.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured.

You turned your head to peck his shoulder, fingers entwining, and then you were walking towards his bedroom as though it was second nature. The change in your demeanor had the corners of Jungkook's eyes crinkling from smiling. You practically skipped over to his bed, hopping onto the large mattress.

"Can I get a shirt, please?"

He didn't think you comprehended how fucking cute you were. He turned to open his closet and began rummaging through it.

"At this point, I'm pretty sure I'd kill someone if you asked me," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, baby."

Flushing, he ignored the curious tilt of your head and threw you his favorite t-shirt.

God, how could someone be so fucking cute?

You were always excited to nap in his bed, share food and wear his clothes. The fact that it brought you comfort made his already lovesick heart swell up and ache. Something so simple, but so domestic — it fucked with his head. He wanted this every day, in every life. You were his comfort, too. Why couldn't you see it?

He leaned against his closet, arms crossed, watching you slip out of your clothes, the heap landing on the floor. It was art. You were so beautiful; inside and out. He couldn't help the way his stomach stirred and heart fluttered, yet instead of acting on his urges, he just walked over to you and bent down to pick up your clothes.

While you got into his shirt, he folded them neatly and placed them on his gaming chair.

"I missed this bed so much," you sighed.

Jungkook glanced over at you, taking a moment to drink in the image of you lying there, the black cotton of his shirt slightly too wide and too long for your body; but fuck, it looked perfect to him. He bit his lip, making his way to climb onto the mattress beside you.

"What about me?" He asked, delighted by how you opened up your arms, instinctively scooting closer to him.

"Hm, what about you?"

Jungkook pouted, eyebrows furrowing. His arms wrapped around your waist.

"Hey."

You giggled, peppering his face with kisses, and he wished he could live in this moment forever, stop all the clocks, kill time. To hell with what that would do to the universe.

"I missed you, too."

Just like that, he melted. Somehow, it hurt so bad; he had you right there, and yet he didn't. Disappearing and reappearing. Out of reach, like a mirage.

He lifted your hand to his lips again, momentarily distracted by how small it was compared to his.

"So tiny."

Amused at the scoff you let out, he turned it to kiss your palm, then paused abruptly.

A raw shade of red caught his attention.

Narrowing his eyes, he examined the wounds around multiple fingers — or at least tried to, before you caught on and pulled your hand away like you got burned.

His heart dropped.

It's been a while. Why were you doing this to yourself again?

Fuck. He felt like a failure of a man.

He swallowed thickly, then pulled you in closer, as if treading on thin ice. Terrified of making a mistake and feeling it crack under his weight. Once he was under, once it all fell apart, he didn't know if you'd let him in again.

"Baby..." he whispered into your hair.

"I'm so tired, Jungkook," mellow, you answered the question he didn't get to ask. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"Talk to me," he pleaded. "I can't help you if you shut me down."

You sniffed quietly. There was a loud crack. Not in the ice, but in his chest.

"You can't help me either way."

Jungkook tried to lift his head to look at you, but you gripped his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your hand.

"Baby—"

"Not everyone deserves help," you insisted, a wet sigh following. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I help myself? E-everyone else seems to be doing just fine, a-and I'm just rotting away, filled with these ugly thoughts and feelings, I can't do anything right."

Jungkook hugged you tighter, like he hoped he could mold you together, give you as much of him as you needed to feel whole again. He'd let you rip him to pieces to fill the void.

"Stop saying that," he breathed, his eyes burning, "fuck, stop saying that."

He stroked your back as you cried into his chest, softly, feeling helpless and furious at the same time.

"When you're always in the dark," he whispered, "you learn to make friends with monsters to survive. It's all you know, so it's what feels most comfortable."

He heard you inhale, felt your head lift with hesitation. Eyes swollen, glossy, lower lip still trembling.

Jungkook cupped your face, wiping at the wet streaks.

"When you're always in the dark, sometimes... it feels like it's all you deserve. But it's not your fault. You're not a bad person," he said softly, his thumb rubbing your lower lip. "Sometimes, it's just the monsters you know talking."

You blinked, small and vulnerable, like a child who just woke up from a nightmare.

"I... I don't know..."

Jungkook squeezed your waist, so close his nose almost touched yours.

"But I know," he promised. "I know."

He stared into your eyes, watched them well up with more tears. He wished he could kiss them all away.

"Let me be there for you—"

You kissed him, and once again, it hurt. Because he wanted you, he wanted you so bad, but not like this — why didn't you want him, too?

Outside of the bedroom, when you weren't tangled in sheets, it seemed like you had no interest in letting your walls down. He's spent so much time trying to climb them, only to end up with broken bones, back down on the ground again.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He pulled away from your lips, denying you the oblivion you craved. He wanted to let you use him, he'd do it every day if it meant he could see you again. But he was afraid that if he didn't speak up now, he'd never find the courage to do it.

"I want to be with you," he breathed out. "Why won't you let me love you?"

There was an instant change in your expression that made his stomach lurch.

"I— I..."

A pause, filled with uncertainty.

Jungkook searched your eyes. The windows to the soul, they said. Broken, and the interior was dark. Nothing good lurked in there.

"I love you," he repeated.

His heart pounded in his chest. He stared right into this endless darkness, crawling with insecurities and fear. As though he was hoping the warm whisper would chase away the frigid, haunted air breaking through, make all the other voices come to a halt.

He was no longer a boy, but a man, and he feared no monsters. He wanted to flood the space with light.

"Move in with me," his palm settled on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. "I'll help with your classes and therapy. I'll take care of you. You can lean on me until you're strong enough to stand on your own. And even then, when you do — I still wanna be there. I wanna make you happy... Every day."

There it was. His heart, right in the palm of your hand, like an offering. Bleeding through your fingers. Willing to be crushed, if it meant at least he tried.

But you cradled it instead.

Fresh tears, sticking to your eyelashes, and then a rush of warmth in the dark. Your lips pressed into his, tender, and he shut his eyes, tasting a mixture of salt and your sweetness —

"I love you," a shaky exhale, right into his mouth.

It sank into him like sunlight, pulsing, nourishing and bright. And he swallowed it up with a kiss, his teeth clashing with yours.

He shifted to hover above you, finding rest in between your legs, goosebumps erupting when he felt your hand slip under his hoodie, inching it up.

A giggle slipped past his lips, and he disconnected himself from you only to take it off, throwing it aside carelessly before he was kissing you again.

He felt you smile. You went straight to his head like wine. Your taste, your scent — your touch, exploring the muscles of his back, his shoulders.

He was already hard, aching to get lost in you; dizzy on want and love.

Hands groping over clothes, wherever they could reach, hot lips trailing down your neck. He wanted to do so many things to you; kiss every inch of your skin, make you come on his tongue.

But you had the whole night — a whole eternity, really. And the way you squirmed beneath him, arching your back, legs parting, hips raising to feel him, urgent and breathy, wiped his mind clean off anything but the need to be inside you.

Jungkook groaned, his cock twitching, leaking precum into the cotton of his boxers. He remained still, however, letting your hand wander in between your bodies.

His eyes were glued to the way it traveled down his tensing abdomen, pausing to lower his sweats; then dipping inside.

He tried to stay quiet, though his chest was heaving, the sight and the feeling of your hand wrapping around his girth making it twitch again.

He watched you pull your panties aside, wet and ruined, revealing your pretty, glistening folds and the small entrance below.

So fucking small.

It looked almost obscene compared to his cock, long and thick and pulsating in your hand. But you fit him perfectly, like you were made just for him.

The moment you guided him forward, and the wet tip touched the heat of your cunt, he lifted his eyes to yours.

He felt so fucked out, but he was gentle as he pushed inside. The tight, wet muscle welcomed him eagerly, inch by inch, until his hips touched yours and he couldn't breathe.

For a moment, time stood still.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, inked hand squeezing your thigh.

"I missed you so much."

He sounded broken, but he's never felt so whole before.

"I missed you too..."

You clenched around him, prompting his hips to move off their own accord, coaxing the most beautiful sounds out of your body. The wetness, the smack of his skin against yours; the soft whines that fueled the heat boiling deep in his gut.

"Mmm," he moaned, raspy, "doing so well, baby."

He tried to stretch you out slowly, preoccupy himself with biting and sucking at your neck; anything not to focus on how you clenched around him.

But he was doomed, and he understood that the second you moved your hips, fucking him back.

"Oh shit," he gasped, "baby..."

He stifled another moan into your cheek, picking up his pace, so deep inside you he wondered if you could feel him in your tummy. The thought alone made his cock throb, every vein and ridge.

Long, ringed fingers wrapped around your throat, the pressure soft, but definitely there. In return, you grasped his shoulders, nails digging in, and Jungkook knew he wasn't going to last long.

"Good?" He breathed, slamming into you a little faster, stuck on your shining eyes and eager nods. "Yeah?"

The mattress began to protest under the force of his thrusts, but the sound was drowned out by everything else. Jungkook felt your cunt tightening, so warm and so fucking sloppy, his own little personal heaven.

"Almost there? Hm? Gonna make a mess for me?"

Clench.

He groaned, his tummy twisting, the moans spilling past your lips making his head spin.

You merely nodded again, as though you couldn't speak. It made the corner of his lips quirk upwards.

"Yeah?" He tightened his hold on your neck, staking his claim with a coo. "My girl's gonna make a mess on my cock? Pretty angel's gonna cream all over it?"

Your breath hitched, thighs beginning to quiver around him.

"Y-yeah," you uttered, breathless, "yours—"

Jungkook's tongue slid into your mouth, his rutting becoming desperate. He wanted to mark you and brand you and oh god — he was about to see stars.

"Yeah, fuck— mine, my good girl," he stuttered out, "oh, baby, mhmm, I'm gonna come—"

His hips bucked as your pussy spasmed around him, sucking his cock in deeper, restricting his movements. Still, he fucked you through your orgasm, letting himself go with a loud groan. A burst of stars, the tension snapping; and he spilled inside you, white ropes of hot cum that filled you up to the brim.

He slumped against you after a drawn out moment, his body thrumming with bliss. Careful not to crush you, however, he rolled over to the side, his arms automatically enveloping your frame.

With his nose in your neck, he waited for his breathing to even out, lazily rubbing your hands.

"So good," he mumbled, "fuck... Are you okay, baby?"

You hummed, snuggling into him.

"More than okay."

Jungkook smiled, opening his eyes and pressing a kiss into your cheek.

"I'll wash you up in a sec."

"In a bit... Stay with me."

"I'm staying with you forever. Good luck getting rid of me now."

Your laughter sent a pang through his chest. He wanted to keep hearing it.

He brought your hand up to his lips, gently kissed each wounded finger, muttering his I love yous and praises until you both drifted off. Sated and warm under the sheets, tangled up in each other; with a single promise echoing through his head.

Never again would he let you hurt like this.

And whatever was happening outside of these four walls hardly mattered.

This was all that mattered.

This was home.

[inkspiredwriting]

A Life Worth Fighting For

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: It's time we all got our five back. Five needs y/n, in every timeline. If I'm honest, I don't want to read anything more about this Five/Lila relationship. For me that never happened. From now on I'll be posting the stories that I've already finished writing

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6

The air shimmered with energy as Five and Lila landed in yet another timeline, they found themselves in a cozy, well-kept house that radiated warmth and comfort. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of flowers from somewhere nearby.

Lila glanced around, her brow furrowed with suspicion. “This doesn’t look like any of the timelines we’ve been to,” she muttered, her hand instinctively moving toward the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh. “Too quiet, too… perfect.”

Five didn’t respond immediately. He was scanning the room, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The polished wooden floors, the cushy furniture, the family photos lining the walls—it was all so domestic, so ordinary. It felt like the calm before a storm, and after seven years of battling against the odds in a timeline where everything was wrong, he couldn’t trust it.

“We need to be careful,” Five said finally, his voice low. “This place looks safe, but it’s too familiar. We could be in one of those timelines where something’s just a bit off.”

“Like that time where your younger self shot at us??” Lila quipped, her lips curving into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Exactly,” Five replied, the memory flashing through his mind. “Let’s find out where we are and who’s running the show here.”

Just as he was about to suggest searching the house, the door to the living room swung open. Both Five and Lila instinctively tensed, ready for whatever was about to step through.

But what they saw caught them completely off guard.

Another Five stood in the doorway, looking just as surprised as they were. This version of Five was dressed casually, in a button-down shirt and jeans, a far cry from the suits that the time-traveling Five was used to. He looked… settled.

“What the—” the other Five started, his eyes narrowing as he processed the scene before him. “What are you doing in my house?”

Five stepped forward, his gaze locked onto his counterpart. “We’re from a different timeline” he said, his voice steady.

The other Five’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed again with suspicion. “A different timeline? What do you want?”

Before Five could respond, Lila spoke up, her tone laced with annoyance. “Listen, mate, we don’t want to be here any more than you want us to be. We’re just trying to get back to our own timeline, but we’ve been stuck in the wrong one for seven years. Seven years!”

The other Five’s expression softened slightly, though the wariness didn’t leave his eyes. “Seven years? What happened?”

Five took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as memories of those long, grueling years came rushing back. “We got trapped,” he explained, his voice quieter now. “No way out. We were stuck there for what felt like a lifetime. And… well, we ended up together.”

For a moment, there was silence. The other Five’s eyes flicked between his counterpart and Lila, his expression growing darker with each passing second. “You ended up together?” he repeated, disbelief coloring his tone. “You and her?”

Five nodded, bracing himself for the reaction he knew was coming.

The other Five’s jaw tightened, and without warning, he stepped forward and smacked his counterpart on the back of the head. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice a mix of anger and incredulity. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

Lila’s eyes flashed with anger, but Five raised a hand to stop her from retaliating. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, though even as he spoke the words, he knew how weak they sounded.

“There’s always a choice!” the other Five shot back, his anger unabated. “You’re telling me that in seven years, you never once thought about the consequences? About Diego? He’s her husband in our timeline, for Christ’s sake! They have three kids together!”

Five flinched at the mention of Diego, a pang of guilt stabbing through him. “I don't have a girlfriend or wife,” he said defensively, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I have no one.”

At this, the other Five’s anger seemed to shift, turning into something more like pity. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because you gave up,” he said quietly. “You gave up on yourself, and you gave up on your family.”

For a long moment, Five couldn’t find the words to respond. The weight of what his counterpart was saying pressed down on him like a lead blanket. Had he really given up? Had he allowed himself to lose sight of everything that mattered because he was too tired, too lost, to keep fighting?

The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the unspoken regrets and what-ifs of a life that could have been.

“Look,” the other Five said, his voice softer now, “I know how easy it is to get lost in this mess, to lose sight of who you are and what you want. But you can’t just throw everything away because things get hard. You have to fight for what matters.”

Five looked down, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to believe that it wasn’t too late, that he could still find the life he’d always wanted, the love he’d convinced himself was out of reach. But the last seven years had left him scarred, beaten down by a world that had taken so much from him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter coming from outside. He looked up and saw that the other Five was gazing out the large bay window, a small smile on his lips.

Five followed his gaze and felt his heart clench at the sight that greeted him.

In the garden, a beautiful pregnant woman was playing with a little girl, who looked to be around four years old. The woman’s laughter was like music, her face glowing with happiness as she twirled the giggling child around in her arms. The little girl had a mop of dark hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief—eyes that Five recognized all too well.

“That’s Y/n,” the other Five said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “And that’s our daughter, Maddie.”

Five stared at him, his mind reeling. “I want what you have,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I want… her.”

The other Five nodded, his expression firm but not unkind. “Then fight for it,” he said. “Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on her.”

Five’s throat tightened as he watched them, his heart aching with a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. This was it. This was what he had wanted, what he had fought so hard to protect but had never truly believed he could have. A family. A home. A life filled with love.

He could have had this. He could have had her.

“I can’t believe…” Five started, but his voice broke, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe I gave this up.”

“You didn’t,” the other Five said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet. You still have a chance to find her. You still have a chance to make this life your own.”

Five closed his eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to drown him. He didn’t deserve this—this kindness, this hope. But he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to find his y/n, to have his own Maddie, to fight for a life worth living.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the other Five watching him, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Go,” the other Five said gently. “Find her. Fight for her.”

Five nodded, and then turned to Lila, who had been watching the exchange in silence. She looked at him with a mixture of sadness and understanding, knowing that whatever they had shared was over.

“We should go,” Five said softly, his eyes meeting Lila’s. her expression unreadable, and with a final nod to the other five, he teleported them both away, leaving the other Five standing alone in the quiet house.

A few moments later, the front door opened, and Y/n and Maddie walked in, their faces flushed with happiness from their time in the garden. Y/n smiled warmly at Five, the love in her eyes undeniable as she approached him.

“Everything okay?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice as she noticed the tension in his posture.

Five looked at her, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he kissed her gently on the lips.

“Everything’s perfect,” he murmured against her lips, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m just… so happy that I have you. You’re my one true love, y/n. No one else. Just you.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes shining with love as she leaned into his embrace. “I love you too,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

Five held her close, the weight of everything that had just happened slowly fading away as he focused on the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her heartbeat, the soft rise and fall of her breath. This was his life, his family, his everything.

And he wouldn't give that up for anything in the world...timeline or not.

[aestherin]

KEEP MY HEART

epilogue: where's the trophy

NOTE: ending the year with the very last update for kmh 🙇‍♀️ thank you very much for being patient and waiting for more than a year!! i'm so thankful and grateful for all of you 💗 i hope everyone has a great year ahead ^^ - ri <3

Short of breath, Scaramouche's eyes paced back and forth, from one direction to another, rapid blinks in between.

The timer.

03:00

Then the scoreboard.

TNU UI 1 1

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

He has very little time to seal the game. What's worse, it's the opponent's ball right now. They're at a disadvantage. If someone from the other team manages to score, it's all over.

They're going to lose. Even in his last game.

He could hear the roaring drums from the two cheering teams. He could hear the clashing cheers from both sides. He could hear the narrations of the game commentators.

Hell, he could even hear his own heart.

It was beating—no, it was ringing. Whether it was due to adrenaline, exhaustion, or anxiousness, he couldn't tell.

He took deep breaths. Get your head back in the game, stupid.

He was near the mid-field line, making his position decent. He was quite confident in his ability to make himself available for both options — he can aid in defense, if need be, or he can go for the offensive if the ball manages to get near the goal.

Everyone in the field, including himself, is already exhausted. Every single one of them is running on adrenaline alone.

01:37

"Fuck," he uttered once he noticed that TNU's ace and forward, Xiao, has already managed to position himself near the penalty area. "You better fucking stop him, Heizou."

As if Heizou heard his captain's orders from a distance, he dashed, speedily locking on to the teal-haired male. "No you don't."

"Calm down. I don't even have the ball yet," Xiao replied.

Heizou could not help laughing at how one of Xiao's teammates attempted to pass the ball to him moments after he just said that.

"'Yet?' It's not 'you don't have the ball yet'." He flashed a smile so warm yet so sinister. "You won't even be touching it."

01:01

Xiao moved, intending to receive the pass. Heizou did too. Xiao sped up, Heizou did too. Xiao blocked Heizou with one arm as he ran, the other did too.

"You're annoying."

"Well, thank you." Heizou grinned. "It's my job to annoy strikers, you see."

"You're doing a very good job."

"You're really flattering me here, you know. I'd blush if you weren't my opponent."

Despite a certain someone making it hard for him, Xiao had managed to make his way near the ball. 'Only a hair's breadth away,' he thought. 'I can reach it.'

A much more solid block from Heizou.

Then a heavy, foreign-sounding, decisive step.

In the blink of an eye, Xiao's clear view of the ball was replaced with a blinding scene — one that radiated of long, golden hair. The only thing that came between him and the goal that he was so close to scoring.

"I'll be taking this now, ace," Aether declared with a smirk. "I'm afraid our captain wasn't really blessed with patience."

Heizou beamed. "Nice save, Ae."

The blonde nodded in response.

00:39

Scaramouche, being aware of what had just transpired, positioned himself a little closer to the area where he knew it'd be possible to for him to score.

It was a little farther, yes. But he trusted in Aether and his ability to send him the ball, wherever he is.

00:32

"Scara!" Aether's yell pierced from across the stadium, followed by a resounding noise from the intensity of his kick. The crowd collectively gasped in awe; eyes locked onto the ball that is now spiraling from one side of the field to the other.

Scaramouche leaped into the air, flawlessly cushioning the ball with his torso. "Good fucking boy," Scaramouche whispered with a grin.

00:28

00:24

00:20

Scaramouche could not feel nor hear nor see anything else, except himself, the ball, and the goal. He was now on the left side of the penalty area. He swore he managed to pass by a man with teal braids who tried to block him earlier too, but everything was a blur.

All he knows is he has to get this one shot in.

00:18

And there he was, Scaramouche's last hurdle.

Looking as big of an annoyance as ever. The dependable captain of the other team. The notable and talented goalkeeper. His greatest obstacle.

Kaedehara Kazuha.

Your older brother.

00:14

Scaramouche stalled in order to pace himself. The man standing at the goal was a formidable foe, he could not rush his decisions.

Think. Think. Think.

00:13

Fuck.

Kunikuzushi, think!

00:12

God, please.

00:11

As if on cue, a certain blonde friend of his made his presence known, finally managing to catch up near his captain's position. "Here!"

00:10

Without hesitation, Scaramouche swiftly positioned himself and got ready to pass, alerting the other defenders, and even the goalie. Even Aether prepared himself to receive it.

00:09

Scaramouche hit the ball, causing it to roll in Aether's direction, who was at the right side of the penalty area.

00:08

The defenders flocked to where Aether was, ready to block the ball once it reaches them.

00:07

Kazuha shifted a little to the right, in anticipation for what Aether might do. Scaramouche caught it.

00:06

The raven-haired man took a deep breath, then forced his body to move lightly and quickly, barely managing to catch up to the ball that he kicked himself.

00:05

A light tap, and the ball stops.

00:04

Kazuha's eyes widen upon realization, scrambling to get to the opposite side of the goal. But it was too late.

Scaramouche, the one in the blue jersey #03, has already kicked the ball.

00:03

Please.

00:02

He gulped as he saw Kazuha's outstretched hands. 'Please don't reach it,' he mentally begged.

00:01

Please make it. My goal.

00:00

Scaramouche drew a breath as the sound of the ball hitting the net echoed throughout the silent field.

And for a second, he stood still.

The buzzer rang.

Cheers were chanted. Drums echoed, and crowds roared.

His teammates were running towards him.

But he was running to you.

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

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[eclipseslayer]

DEEP IN THE VINES

➭ LAIOS TOUDEN X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

➭ Summary: You and Laios get separated from the group and encounter a strange monster.

➭ CW: DUBCON! Tentacles, sex pollen, penetration, dirty talk, nipple play.

➭ WC: 4k

➭ A/N: Hello first Dungeon Meshi fic! Good to be here. Also I used the Greek word "plokami" which means "tentacle" for the monster. Idk. I made everything else about it up. ➭ Please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

"What a pain."

You groan, looking ahead of you as you view the endless sea of thick, long vines that hang down from what appears to be a very tall ceiling. The vines stretch all the way from the top, and don't stop stretching until they reach the floor, dragging on the dungeon floor like snakes, making it very hard to navigate your way through this maze that you and Laios fell into, thus separating yourselves from the rest of the group.

Laios has to agree with you as he lets out an exasperated sigh. He shakes his head as he figures Chilchuck is laughing with glee as Laios' curiosity for monsters finally lands him in a heap of trouble.

Laios draws his sword and grips the handle, and begins to cut through the thick vines, creating a pathway for you to follow him through.

"At least these vines aren't the man-eating ones," he grumbles as he cuts through a thick layer of vines.

You nod and you look around at the vines around you, taking in the different shapes and sizes of the vines, noting how some are thin and some are thick, and also noting how the colors are only brown and green, and then you look down at the array daggers strapped to your thighs. There's no way in hell you'd be able to cut through them with these daggers, so you just decide to let Laios do all of the work.

"Yeah... thank goodness," you say under your breath, replying absent-mindedly as you look around the vines again, your anxiety only grows as you see nothing but jungles of vines for miles. "Hey, Laios? How do we even know we're going in the right direction? I mean, we fell through a hole in the dungeon floor. We don't even know where we are."

Laios suddenly stops cutting and comes to a freeze, which makes you halt from behind him. He sighs again and rubs the back of his head, his fingers going through his blonde hair.

"Well..." He chuckles nervously. "I don't know if we're going in the right direction. I figured if I just started cutting then maybe we'd see some sort of clearing along the way that could at least give us some indication as to where we are, but... these vines are so dense..." His words fall off as if he already sounds defeated even though you can't possibly be more than twenty feet in.

You feel your heart clench at how defeated Laios already sounds. Usually—between him and Marcille—he's the optimistic one in the group, so to see him feel already so defeated makes you feel horrible. You reach up and with a small thunk, you put your hand on his shoulder and give him a sympathetic look.

"Hey. We'll make it out of here. I know Marcille is already panicking, finding some kind of magic spell that can track us down," you say with a chuckle, and that earns you a smile from Laios. "Don't worry. Let's just try to find some sort of clearing and we can rest, okay? I'll even..." You sigh, shaking your head. "...I'll even cook us up some of these vines for us, okay?" You tap one of the vines beside you.

With your words of encouragement, Laios' face seems to brighten up. He chuckles and looks down before slicing ahead with his sword again.

"You're right. Thanks. Let's go find us a clearing."

With another swing of Laios' sword, you continue the journey of trying to get out of this (literal) hellhole. The journey is long, and Laios has to switch arms regularly and also switches with you to chop the vines down because of how tired his arms had become, but, eventually, the thick sea of vines finally gets thinner and thinner, until finally, with one final swipe of the sword, you've reached a clearing.

It's a pond, a rather large one, that expands about forty yards. Surrounding the pond is nothing but lush, forest green with tall grass and trees with long, hanging leaves and limbs that droop down in a curling pattern. Mushrooms and flowers dot the forest floor, and sparkles of light seem to shimmer throughout the air. It's almost as if this space was right out of a storybook.

"Wow..." You step out from behind Laios, pushing away the vines from beside you and step into the grass, which is a huge contrast from that to the cobble from the dungeon floor.

"This is so strange," Laios notes, which breaks you out of your awestruck spell and turns you to face him. He's still standing at the boundary of the vines and the grassy area.

"Why would this area be here in the middle of the dungeon? I mean, it's not like we're on the upper levels of the dungeon anymore where you'd see grass," he mutters, and he slowly turns his head around to look at the pond ahead of you.

His logical way of thinking has you huff and you roll your eyes, as if dungeons were logical in the first place. They were ruled by magic and monsters—so why is this area any different?

"Oh come on, Laios. Relax." You look at him with an exasperated expression, your eyes droopy from how tired you feel from walking and cutting down vines. You rub your sore shoulder. "It's a dungeon, remember? Dungeons are weird. Maybe this is the dungeon seeing our poor, tired feet, so it decided to give us a break."

Your mind is already made up as you find yourself a big rock under a tree and sit yourself down in it, and you start opening up your bag to grab yourself a treat—that Senshi had made—to munch on.

You hear armor clinking and a sigh coming up from behind you as Laios takes a spot next to you to sit on the grass.

"I suppose you're right... still, though, let's be on our guard. Something about this doesn't feel right to me."

You raise an eyebrow at this as you take a bite of your honey-covered mandrake. You chew for a moment before speaking, and you turn to look at the blonde who's also taking out his treat from Senshi.

"Usually you're so excited about new monsters to find in these types of areas, Laios. Where's all of that excitement?"

He takes a bite from the food, and for a moment his face lights up but it soon fades away as he answers your question. "Oh, trust me, I'm excited about the monsters here, but, I'm just being cautious. I mean, as beautiful as this place is, it's surrounded by an endless sea of thick vines. Isn't it a bit eerie to you that this place just sticks out like a sore thumb?"

Well, when he puts it like that, you seem to have suddenly lost your appetite. You frown and put the mandrake back into your bag, closing the flap on it before you look up at the armored blonde. Maybe he's right. Maybe you should be more cautious, considering the things you and your group have ran into in the dungeon. For crying out loud, you fell into a gaping hole that led to this, so maybe Laios is right.

You huff and put your chin on your hand. "Maybe you're right... still, though." You look around the lush green surrounded by the wall of vines. "So far there aren't any threats so I think we should relax."

There's a brief moment of silence between the two of you, and you know that means the gears in Laios' head must be turning as he continues to chew on the mandrake. He stares off into the distance as he thinks, which you've picked up on as you've traveled with him, so you poke his side between the clunk and mesh of his armor.

"Hey. What is it?"

Laios is quiet as he continues to chew. His stare remains on the pond in front of you, and his eyes narrow. You raise an eyebrow, and slowly, you turn your gaze to where he staring and realization dawns on you when you see he's staring at the ripples in the water.

You feel your heart thump in your chest as you watch the water ripple. At first, you think it's harmless due to the ripples being small, but with each passing moment, they begin to grow, steadily.

"I've been thinking about what kind of monsters we might see here," Laios says suddenly, making you whip your head back to him. "And I've realized that only plokami tend to hang around environments like these..."

"Plokami?" Your voice quivers.

"Yeah... big monsters with tentacles that live partially in lakes but come out of the water to either hunt or mate. They have long talon-like claws that stick out of their tentacles to stab, and then squeeze and eventually sedate their prey with this toxin that emits from them," his words sound more excited as he continues, and he sits up straight as he keeps his focus on the rippling water, but your fear only increases as he goes into lengthy detail, "but when they mate, they use their suction cups and retract their claws to grab ahold of their mate, and they release that same toxin to sedate their mate so they have an easier time to coerce that mate into, well, mating with them! Isn't that neat?"

Laios' eyes are shimmering with excitement as he continues to stare out into the water, but all you feel is bouts of fear bubbling up inside you as he talks.

"Also!" Laios continues, not giving you a chance to respond. "When they come out of the water, they like to hang out in tall trees with big vines so it looks like they're camouflaging right in with their tentacles! Then, when the time is right, they snatch their prey up into the trees, and claw, squeeze, and sedate right there! Oh, also with mating, sometimes they don't care who their mate is! Sometimes they just pick up whatever they can to get out of heat if another one of their species isn't around."

Tall trees with big vines. That's all you could focus on as Laios rambled on about this plokami that you might see because this environment was certainly the type for it. Maybe the monster-obsessed blonde was right for being cautious, although, he doesn't look like he's being cautious now as his glowing face and shimmering eyes glimmer with so much excitement. Instead, it looks like he's going to hop up and go mate with this plokami himself.

"Yeah, their tentacles get all slick and lubricated whenever they're in heat, and—"

You gasp, interrupting Laios as you watch in horror as a big glob of something lands on Laios' shoulder. You quickly stand up and point at the oozing, clear liquid that has landed on his armor. You feel yourself trembling as your worst fear has possibly come true.

Gods. You're going to be eaten alive.

"L-Laios... y-your s-shoulder..." Plop. Another glob right onto his head. "...Y-Your h-head..."

Slowly, Laios puts down his mandrake and back into his backpack and stands up. The two of you slowly back away from the tree, and Laios wipes the glob off of his face so he has a clearer picture of where your eyesight has landed.

You stand there, stunned as your eyes remain on the tree before you, your body trembles as you look up at the large monster hanging in the tree with its long, tendrils of tentacles hanging like vines, its green skin blends into its surroundings perfectly. If it didn't have the large, squid-like head, you wouldn't have been able to point it out—you're sure of it.

You watch, frozen in a standstill as the monster heaves, its breath blows the leaves in the tree, shaking them as they fall to the ground, and the tree itself is coated in a clear liquid that seeps from the tentacles of the monster.

"I-Is... t-that..." You stutter out, but Laios finishes it for you.

"Yep... the plokami, and..." He pauses. "... it's in heat."

Laios almost sounds excited when he says that last part, which rips you out of your fear-ridden state. You whip your head towards him and you see his eyes, glimmering with curiosity once more like he always does when he sees a monster.

"Laios you freak!"

"I've always wanted to know... heh. Can you blame me?" He asks, but, with the way he's asking, it's more like he's just making a proud statement that he knows he's going to finally get what he's dreamed of for years.

He's going to fuck a monster.

He takes a step forward, almost as if he's offering himself to it, and he opens his arms, welcoming the plokami.

"Laios you're insane! What if it eats you after it—" Your worries are nothing but moot to him as he takes another large step forward the tree.

"Plokami!" He shouts to the tree where the monster lays, and another glob of that lubricant falls onto Laios' shoulder.

There's a big whoosh that sweeps through the air before you can realize what's happening. A gust of wind almost knocks you over which stirs you out of your fearful state, making it dawn on you that Laios has been swept up into the monster's grasp.

You groan, hating that your monster-obsessed friend is too curious for his own good, so, despite him wanting to fuck a monster, you quickly grab a dagger from its sheath. You grip it tightly and you throw it at the monster as it hits, and sinks down into one of its tentacles.

Unfortunately for you, however, this seems to make the monster more mad as it lets out a low, rumbling sound, and, before you know it, you're immediately hit with a large tentacle that almost knocks the breath out of you as it grabs you by your ribs and sweeps you up into the air, squeezing you tightly as its wet, sticky suction cups glide over your skin, making wet popping sounds.

"Laiooooos!" You curse your friend's name as you let out a groan, completely grossed out of your mind as the monster's wet slick drips all over you. You whip your head toward him and narrow your eyes as you see him completely relaxed as the monster rubs its tentacles all over Laios' body, slowly shrugging off his armor, making it hit the ground with a metallic thunk.

"Why did you have to fuck the monster?!"

"Because I'm curious!" He retorts, which, was the response you unfortunately expected from him.

"Well, I wasn't! I was perfectly fine, on the ground, and not slimy!" You shout back, and you wince when you feel a slimy tentacle glide around your throat. You swallow thickly.

Laios huffs and he rolls his eyes. "One, you were the one who angered it so it picked you up, and two, it's not slime! It's arousal fluid!"

You groan and you try to move your limbs around in an attempt to free yourself, but the hold of the plokami's tentacles is too strong, and to only make matters worse, they tighten around you as you struggle.

"Stop struggling! You'll only make matters worse. It'll squeeze you to death if you struggle. Just..." Laios sighs, "Let it happen."

You stare at him with your mouth agape as you watch him, clearly enjoying this as he relaxes in the monster's arms.

"You're crazy, Laios! I—" You struggle again, but this time the monster squeezes you again, tighter than last time, so you have no other choice than to relax. However, something is off when it squeezes you again. You smell something—something sweet. You sniff it, and you turn to Laios again, who's a blushing mess under the touch of the tentacles.

"Laios, do you smell that?" You ask, and you sniff it again.

He nods, and, as you watch him, a tentacle slips under Laios' shirt and slips it off, exposing his chest. Your face heats up at the sight, and he hangs his head back with a groan as one of the tentacles moves to rub his cock, which, you could see was hard through his tan pants.

"Y-Yeah... it's the sedative I was telling you about..." He mumbles, clearly already drunk under the spell of the sweet sedative. "This is why I was sayin' to just let it happen..."

Not like I have a choice, you think to yourself as you remember Laios saying that the beast used the sedative to coerce its mates.

The sedative lingers in your nose, the scent sickeningly sweet as it slowly starts to make you dizzy, almost as if you're drunk. You let your head fall back, and the tentacles slowly relax around you as they feel you start to relax as the sedative works its magic on you.

Your head feels so light, and you feel so weightless under the effects of the sedative. You sigh, accepting more and more of the tentacles as they glide around your body, and a few more join in to help slide off your clothes. You watch as the thick, slimy tentacles drag themselves up and down your body, leaving trails of wet, lubricant. It slowly slides itself up under your shirt and it pushes up against the fabric so it slowly slides it off, leaving your breasts exposed.

Normally you'd want to cover up with your arms in a situation like this, but, your head feels so light, and dizzy that you'd just rather relax in this. You hum contently, and a lazy smile forms on your face as you feel the tentacle glide down your pants, brushing over your pussy through the fabric which makes it throb with a silent need.

"Mmm... this is good, Laios..." You say softly, drunk on the sedative.

"I know... told you," he sighs in a heavy breath, and you tilt your head back to look at him.

He's laying with his legs spread open as the monster holds them open, and his pants have been taken off, leaving his cock pressed against his stomach.

You swallow thickly as you realize you've never seen Laois like this, all laid out and naked before you. You'd honestly never thought you would, but now... you let out a shaky breath.

"Laios..." You watch as the plokami moves one of its long tentacles up and down his body, rubbing over his nipples and tracing over his thighs with another tentacle, slowing inching toward his cock.

Laois shifts his drunken gaze to you and his eyes widen when he sees your top off, and the tentacle rubbing you between your thighs. His cock twitches at the sight.

"Gods, you look so good like that," he says with a sigh, and you feel your body heat up from the praise.

"Y-Yeah? Was about to say the same thing to you..." you reply in a soft voice, and Laios blushes again.

"Y'so sweet... always have been," he mutters through a drunken daze, and he groans as the tentacle finally wraps around his cock, slowly pumping it, coating it in nothing but the tentacle's slick.

You feel yourself throb with need as you watch the monster jerk off Laios, finding the image hot as you watch the blonde tilt his head back, his eyes fluttering to a close and his jaw drops open. He looks so good like that, you think to yourself and you let out a whine, wanting nothing more than to go over there yourself and sit yourself down on his cock, but the plokami has you in a tight grasp.

"L-Laios... I want you..."

You don't know where the admission came from, but, its the truth.

Laios' eyes open slowly when you admit that, and he groans as the monster seems to pick up the pace on his cock. You whine, wishing it was you once again so you buck your hips up, grinding against the monster pathetically as you feel the ridges of the tentacles grind against your cunt over your pants.

You look away from Laios at the moment to focus on the pleasure that the tentacle is giving you, and finally it slips inside your pants to take them off.

The wet fabric slips down your legs and off with a few swipes of a tentacle before returning to glide up and down your cunt, making sure to glide perfectly over your clit.

You let out a whine, and at that, Laios curses under his breath.

"Fuck, I want you too..." He replies to you, and he bucks his hips up into the tentacle, chasing after what he wants with heavy breaths.

You tilt your head back to get a good look at him, and, as you see his chest heaving, his skin red from the heat, and his throbbing, hard cock pulsing under the weight of the tentacle—it's almost enough to make you cum yourself.

You grind yourself against the tentacle, the wet, big, ridges from the suction cups make you moan as it glides against your sensitive clit, and, to add to the pleasure, a tentacle slowly makes its way toward your breasts, where it snakes its way around your nipples, slowly stimulating them which sends a shock of pleasure down to your pussy.

"Nnngh!" You look up at Laios as you grind against the tentacle with begging eyes as you wish it was him who was making you feel this good, and not some monster.

You're about to say something else to Laios when suddenly you feel a tentacle thrust into your poor, sopping-wet pussy, earning Laios a loud moan as it begins to thrust in and out of you.

Your head falls back, and you let out loud moans as you feel the tentacle move in and out at a harsh pace, and the thickness of it stretches you out so deliciously. You feel nothing but bliss as your head feels full of stars, and gliding into what feels like another plane of existence as you get fucked out on this tentacle.

Fire rises along your skin as you're enveloped into that feels like heaven as the beast pushes in and out of you, releasing moans out of you that you never thought you'd felt before. All of this pleasure slowly builds up, and you feel that fire kindle in your stomach as your breaths start to pick up.

You moan Laios' name. "Fuck... Laios... need to cum..."

"Yeah?" Laios groans and he thrusts up into the hold of the tentacle, feeling like he's on his last strand, too. "Me too... need to cum... wanna cum together?" He says under a rough grunt as his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

You nod eagerly, barely able to respond yourself as your head feels so light and dizzy from needing to cum.

"Y-Yeah..."

"A-Ah... cum. Cum for me." He lets out a low groan as he finally cums, his white seed spurts all over the tentacle around him and onto his stomach as he lets out a loud moan.

Just as he cums, you whine, squeezing around the tentacle as you finish, making your legs shake as you feel that fire roar inside your body, and, soon after, you feel a rush of warm liquid flush into you.

You look down, hardly unable to pick up your head as you see a huge load of milky white cum flow from the tentacle and into you, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the sight. You swallow thickly as you watch it all drip out of you.

There's nothing but a moment of heavy breathing exchanged from the two of you as you slowly regain your consciousness as the sedative has worn off now.

The plokami slowly sets you and Laios down onto the grass before it sinks back away into the tree, and down into the water in the pond.

Laios groans and sits up, rubbing his head as he looks over at you, who's panting and still laying against the grass, all fucked out.

He sees the cum from the tentacle monster, and slowly, he reaches over, before he can do anything, you quickly grab his wrist.

"Don't you dare, Laios."

"What?! I just wanna know what it tastes like."

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

i want to look after you

summary: paige gets injured and you want to look after her

content warnings: suggestive, slightly sexual language

"What the hell happened to your eye?" You question Paige, in slight concern as she walks into your apartment, left eye swollen and red.

"Oh, I got smacked in practice." She says, nonchalant as ever, allowing her bag to fall off her shoulder and onto the floor.

You loved the way she looked post-training. Her hair still damp from the shower, muscles pumped after being used to the extreme and she always wore some variation of a tank top and shorts showing off her long, slender legs and toned arms. Bonus points if she had the sleeves of her tank top tucked in, exposing her biceps like she did today.

She walks over to you, where your curled up on the couch, blanket wrapped around your body while Netflix plays on the TV. The show you were watching becomes background noise as all of your attention is on the blonde girl in front of you. She sinks down beside you and you unwrap yourself so you can get a closer look at her eye. It's bloodshot and you can see a faint bruise already starting to form and her gaze is glassy as if her eye had previously been streaming.

"Gnarly right?" Paige asks taking advantage of you being leaned into her, faces inches away and she presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss her back, of course but that doesn't override your feelings of concern.

"It looks bad." You say, bringing your hand up to her face and gently inching towards the hurt area. Her eye socket is puffy and warm against your skin and Paige winces at your touch.

"Does it hurt?" You inquire, a light frown forming on your face.

"I'll survive." Paige responds, removing your hand from her face and linking it in her own. Physical touch was your girlfriends love language, you believed if Paige could hold your hand at all times, she would. Not that you would complain.

"Not what I asked." You persist, cocking a brow.

"Maybe a little." Paige gives in slumping back into the couch.

You slip your hand out of hers and get up, walking to the kitchen.

"Where are you going? I came over to cuddle." Paige calls out after you and you smile to yourself at her neediness. The same girl that thought it was gnarly having a busted eye loved spending her evenings bundled up with you, in each other's arms watching trash TV.

You quickly filled a zip lock bag with ice before returning to your girlfriend.

"Here, put this on it. It'll help the swelling." You advise and Paige quickly shakes her head, "No. No way, I'm done with ice. It stings." She grumbled, refusing to take the bag from you.

"What if I do it?" You suggest and you swing your leg over her, so your straddling her lap. You wait for her response to your question but she's just smirking now, eyes focused on your legs and where they meet hers, your exposed skin touching hers.

"Paige?"

"If it means you'll stay right here, yes. Ice me all night, baby." She mused, hands riding up your thighs and settling, holding you in place. Her palms were warm against your bare legs and it reminded you how touch starved you were after not seeing her all day.

You roll your eyes at her shameless need for you to be touching at all times, even though you love it and brought the bag of ice up to her eye earning a sharp intake of breath.

"Sorry baby, but it'll help." You say holding the makeshift ice pack over the quickly forming bruise.

You stay sat in Paiges lap nursing the injury for a few minutes before your body begins to struggle to stay still and you fidget in place trying to reposition yourself into a more comfortable stance.

"Y/N, you gotta stop moving like that baby." Paige groaned from beneath you, her grip tightening on your thighs.

"I can't help it." You say fidgeting again, your legs rubbing against hers as you moved.

"OK, fuck this." Paige declared, taking the ice bag from your hand and placing it down before very smoothly flipping you onto your back on the couch.

"But your eye..." You argue as Paige positions herself over you, propped up by her hands at either side of your head.

"My eyes fine, trust me." She insists, leaning down so her face is just centimetres away and you can see every perfect feature so clearly it makes your stomach flip. Her soft, rosy skin glistened in the low light of the room and her eyes, despite one being knocked a little out of shape, shone the most intense shade of blue.

"I want to look after you." You say but it comes out in a pleading tone as your hand finds her jaw and caresses the skin there.

"I can think of many way you can do that, don't worry." Paige quipped, voice quiet and raspy before she finally closed the space between you both, pressing her lips to yours hungrily, a low groan escaping her mouth and vibrating against your lips.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪  ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: hi, first post on here, hope you enjoy! open to requests btw :)

[digitaldaydreamm]

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | you tried the 'ick' trend you saw on tiktok out on rafe to see how long it would take to annoy him

warnings: cursing, reader annoys rafe and he's a little drama queen about it

a/n: i just love making hot men angry :p

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

You could tell Rafe wasn’t exactly thrilled by your idea, but that never stopped you. The ick challenge had been floating around for a while, and today, you were determined to annoy the hell out of him. You had the perfect plan—make a list of the most ridiculous icks you could think of and see how far you could push him before he snapped.

You pulled your phone out, aiming the camera at the two of you. “Alright, Rafe, let’s do the ick challenge. I'll just say a few things you do that annoy me. It’ll be fun.”

He looked at you, eyes narrowed in irritation. “This is fuckin’ dumb.”

“Come on,” you insisted, already grinning. “Just one round. A couple icks.”

Rafe groaned but gave in. “Fine. But this is the last time I’m doing something this stupid with you.”

You pressed record and turned the camera back on both of you. “Okay, so first... You always have to give me a lecture about how to ‘be safe’ when I go out. I’m a grown-ass woman, Rafe. I know how to look both ways before crossing the street.”

Rafe shot you a look like you’d just cursed him out. “You never listen to me. Don’t act like I’m over here telling you to wear a helmet and knee pads to go to the grocery store. I’m just lookin’ out for you.”

You could see the annoyance bubbling beneath his tough exterior, but you pressed on. “Sure, sure. But also, you never let me carry anything. We’ll be out and about, and you’ll just grab the bags, even when I’m totally fine carrying them.”

“Because I don’t want you strainin’ yourself,” he growled. “If you weren’t so damn stubborn, you’d let me do it.”

You smirked, loving how easy it was to get under his skin. “Right, I’m sure it’s all about you being ‘helpful,’” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words. “Next thing, you hold the door open for me because you’re ‘polite' and get mad if i open my own door."

Rafe scowled. “I am polite. What’s your point?”

You shook your head with a dramatic sigh. “Okay, well, you have this whole routine when you get home. You take off your shoes by the door so slowly. Like, what is that? You’re literally just taking off shoes, Rafe, not preparing for battle.”

“Don’t make fun of my routine. It’s called not tracking dirt into my place, alright? I’m not some slob.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you said, crossing your arms. “You always put your hoodie on the back of the chair and it stays there all day. It’s like you think it’s a coat rack.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “You know I don’t want to wrinkle it. It’s not like you don’t leave your shit everywhere either.”

“Okay, okay,” you shot back, loving how he was getting a little worked up. “You always ask me if I’m ‘good’ when I’m just sitting on the couch. Am I supposed to be doing something? I’m literally just chilling, Rafe.”

“Because you act like you’re about to pass out or something. I’m making sure you’re not about to fall asleep in the middle of the day.”

You threw your hands up in mock disbelief. “Oh, but wait, there’s more! You get so mad when I eat my food before you. Like, it’s just a fucking sandwich, Rafe. You’ll give me this look like I’ve just committed a crime.”

“I’m just sayin’, you’re supposed to wait for me,” he muttered, clearly annoyed.

You leaned in closer, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Also, you always wear those damn golf shorts. Seriously, what’s up with that? Are you carrying a golf club in those pockets?”

“They’re comfortable, alright? You're one to talk, you dress like a grandma sometimes,” he fired back. “You’ve got those goddamn oversized sweaters with a billion pockets in ‘em.”

You giggled. “Touché. But speaking of clothes, you’re obsessed with making me wear your shit. I don’t need your hoodie every single time I come over, Rafe.”

“You’re literally freezing when you come over. I’m not lettin’ you freeze your ass off just because you think you can tough it out.”

“Mmhm, right,” you teased. “You always act like you’re too good to eat fast food. It’s just a burger. Stop acting like you’re above it.”

"Because I don’t need to eat that shit. You eat fast food, you turn into fast food. Simple as that.”

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. “Oh, but the best one, the absolute best one? You literally can’t ever let me do anything without you hovering like some kind of damn helicopter. I’ll be putting my shoes on, and you’re right there breathing down my neck.”

“I’m making sure nothin' happens,” he shot back quickly, the vein in his neck tightening. “You need help with everything.”

“Right, of course,” you said innocently, loving every second of his escalating frustration. “Okay, last one: You always text me like twenty times a day to check in. ‘What are you doing? You okay? Where are you?’ I’m not a child.”

“You think I don’t know what could happen out there? People are crazy, alright?” Rafe shot back, his tone suddenly rougher. “And I don’t trust anybody with you. That’s why I check in.”

You smirked, leaning back to take in his response. His brows were furrowed, jaw clenched, but there was something else behind his eyes that made you pause. You didn’t quite know if it was pure protectiveness or something darker, but it had your attention.

Before you could think about it too much, Rafe snatched the phone off the table with a growl, stopping the recording. “Alright, that’s it,” he spat. “You’ve had your fun. I’m done with your little games.”

You blinked, trying to figure out if he was really mad or just messing with you. But the way he looked at you—like he was holding back—made you hesitate.

“Rafe, come on, I was just—”

He tossed the phone onto the couch. “Next time, don’t push it. If you keep testing me, you won’t like what happens next.”

You swallowed hard, realizing this was one of those moments when maybe, just maybe, you pushed a little too far.

“Okay, okay, no more icks, I promise.”

Rafe stared at you for a beat longer, then a smirk crossed his lips. “Damn right.”

[shadowkoo]

Drink It Over

→ Summary: Frustrated after another disastrous date and an uncomfortably long dry spell, you drunkenly confide in your best friend about your dick dilemma, or lack thereof. You need a little help getting off, and to your surprise (and maybe a little amusement) he’s more than willing to step up, turning a simple ‘friendly favor’ into something that just might change everything.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | 3.1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, friends to lovers

→ Warnings: alcohol consumption, consensual drunk sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light degradation (if you squint), teasing, messy sex, fingering, praise, edging, begging, brief orgasm denial, orgasm control, sloppy blowjob, face fucking, cock choking / gagging, deep throating, pussy stretching, breast & nipple play, biting, light hair pulling, face riding, oral (male & female receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum play, cheol thinks y/n is perfect (duh he’s simping after you ofc)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiaries @keopihaus

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: a big thanks to ally @lovetaroandtaemin for making this banner for me and also for beta reading. i appreciate you sm!!!! this is just a short idea bc i’ve been having a lot of Thoughts™ about cheol lately so ur welcome lol if you prefer to read on ao3, it's been crossposted here! (divider credit)

"Don’t. Even. Start." You groan, plopping down dramatically across from your best friend, whose smug face is already screaming, I told you so. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk.

"I didn’t say anything," Seungcheol grins, eyes twinkling with mischief as he slides a shot glass your way.

With a resigned sigh, you grab the glass and knock it back, the soju warming you up as it slides down. "If you say ‘I told you so’ I swear I'll..."

"Oh, please," he smirks, already pouring another shot into your empty glasses. "You love my 'I told you so's."

You narrow your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you lift the glass to your lips.

"Do you want to guess what it was this time?" you ask, swiping the soju bottle from Seungcheol and pouring the next round.

He leans back, tapping his chin as if he’s deeply contemplating what could have gone wrong, "Hmm… Catfish?"

You shake your head.

"Unemployed?"

Another head shake.

He studies your face with a knowing smirk before tossing back his shot. "Let me guess… He talked about himself the whole time and didn’t ask you a single question?"

"Bingo!" you sigh, and instead of pouring, you take a swig straight from the bottle, finishing it off.

Seungcheol snickers, already waving down the waiter with an exaggerated gesture. "Another over here! My best friend's tragic love life demands it!"

You both burst out laughing, the waiter giving you a bemused look as you lean back and shake your head. "Why do you always have to be right?"

"Oh, it’s a talent," he says with a wink. “And, not to say I told you so… but I told you so. Like, a million fucking times," Seungcheol says, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. "Seriously, Y/N, you’ve got to stop dating these finance bros who couldn’t care less if you fell off the face of the Earth."

You groan, slumping forward onto the table. "Seriously, ‘Cheol. It’s not like I want to keep going out with these guys. But dating is already impossible, and I’m running out of options to get laid. Desperation is a hell of a motivator, you know?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Desperate enough to date the human equivalent of a Q3 budget presentation?"

You snort, a half-laugh escaping before you sigh. "Normally, I can power through the self-absorbed bullshit, tuning it out until… well, until I at least get to the fun part. But lately, I can’t even make it past dinner without feeling the urge to bolt."

Seungcheol shakes his head with a sympathetic smile, refilling your glasses. "Cheers to raising your standards and saving yourself from the agony of underwhelming penises."

You clink glasses with him, smirking. "I’ll drink to that."

A moment of silence passes and a thought occurs.

“’Cheol?” you begin.

He looks up from his phone with a blank look, waiting for you to continue.

“Will you fuck me, as a favor?”

Seungcheol, startled by your question (rightfully so), nearly chokes. ”Um, repeat that?” He says, after getting his coughing under control.

“Please fuck me. Not right now obviously, I know you must have plans later. But sometime soon? I know you can deliver, and I’m in desperate need of an orgasm.” You plead your case, desperate to get dicked down the way you deserve, but he doesn’t seem all that convinced.

He tilts his head just slightly, trying to read you. There’s no way you can be serious…right?

“Well?” you press, trying to get an answer out of him.

“Well, what?” He huffs, “You’re asking me for a sympathy fuck?”

You nod, searching his eyes for any sort of answer, “Pretty please? Consider it a friendly favor.”

“Pffff, okay. But only since you begged.”

It’s your turn to choke on the half-finished shot raised to your lips. “Wait, really?”

“What kind of friend would I be to let you suffer? You’re in obvious need of a capital O, or three. Plus we kissed on New Year’s Eve.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” you laugh, remembering all too well. Neither of your dates showed up and you both kind of decided, ‘what the hell, why not.’ Neither of you has mentioned it again, until now. Especially not you, with how hot and bothered it left you.

“I don’t know. It felt like the right thing to say. Quit teasing me or I’m gonna take it back,” he says with a fake frown and pouty lips sticking out.

“You don’t want to drink it over-I mean think it over?” you sit back in your chair. “Wow, maybe I need to be cut off for the night.”

Seungcheol laughs as you fumble over your words, knowing very well that you haven’t hit your tolerance yet. He’s witnessed you outdrink everyone, himself included, on several occasions. You just have a habit of jumbling words together and mixing them up at inconvenient times, he clocks it as an anxious thing.

“C’mon, let’s finish this bottle and get out of here.”

Seungcheol unlocks his apartment door with you standing not too far behind him. It’s a routine you’re used to, but everything feels different tonight. As he holds the door open for you, your arms brush, and the light touch sends goosebumps prickling over your skin.

You step inside, slipping off your shoes to fill the silence. “So, uh, this is awkward. What should we do first?” you say with a nervous laugh, trying to cut through the tension.

You didn’t expect him to take your offer up so soon, thinking he’d have plans for the evening. What normally happens in situations like this? As if it’s normal for two friends to hook up…

He doesn’t answer your question with words. Instead, Seungcheol turns to you and pulls you into his arms. His lips find yours, moving softly, testing the waters while holding you close.

It’s familiar; he kissed you like this just a couple of weeks ago, but this time, he tastes of peach-flavored Soju, and it’s addicting–he’s addicting. Your lips mash together furiously while your hands run through his thick hair, twisting his dark strands through your fingers.

You involuntarily moan into his mouth when his tongue dips inside yours. Goddamn. His tongue massages yours, each lick sending a wave of heat directly to your center.

Seungcheol’s chest vibrates, releasing his own sounds of satisfaction as you grab a fistful of his hair. Meanwhile, his arms instinctively tighten around you to pull you even closer.

Somehow, in the midst of being caught up in kissing, you’ve made it into his bedroom. He walks you backward until he lowers you onto his bed, moving quickly to hover directly over you.

Pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, Seungcheol sucks gently before raking his teeth over the swollen flesh.

“’Cheol,” you breathe, once he finally pulls back for air. He looks at you with heat flaring from his eyes.

“If it gets to be too much at any point, tell me to stop. Okay?”

You nod, and his lips reattach to yours.

He’s careful not to move too fast, even though the growing length in his pants practically begs to be let free. He’s on a mission here, and that’s to give you three body-shaking, life-altering, other-worldly orgasms before the night is over.

When he feels like you’re ready, Seungcheol slips a hand under your skirt. His fingers trail the outside of your bare leg leading up to your hip, and he’s surprised to find out that you’re not wearing anything underneath.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he chokes out the words, “You went on a date with that prick without wearing any underwear?”

Your cheeks heat up, “Don’t judge me.”

He chuckles, “No judgment here. If anything, I should praise the fuck out of you for giving me such easy access to your perfect pussy.”

The redness on your face continues to grow from his words, you’re not used to hearing your best friend speak like this. You should be embarrassed by how much it’s turning you on, but you can’t focus on anything else at this moment in time besides Seungcheol’s fingers getting closer and closer to your cunt.

He trails two fingers up your slit, gently rubbing your clit before ever-so-slowly sinking them into your dripping heat.

Your breath quickens when he begins pumping them in and out, curling them inside of you to brush against that one special spot.

“Oh my god, mmm,” you hum, bucking into his hand, unable to hold back.

“That’s it, pretty girl, warm yourself up for what’s to come. I like my sluts wet and needy for me.”

His words send a wave of wetness through your body, coating his fingers as your hips buck again and again.

Faint sounds of your drenched pussy fill the air as his pumps get harsher. “Shit, do you hear how fucking wet you are? So fucking hot,” he growls before smashing his lips into yours, swallowing your moans.

Seungcheol can tell you’re close to your first orgasm; your inner walls are practically sucking his fingers back in with each thrust.

His lips move to your neck and he sucks gently, making sure not to leave any marks - even though he’d love nothing more than to mark you and claim you as his.

So yeah…maybe he’s been secretly dreaming about this. Not exactly the whole ‘friendly fuck’ part of it, but he didn’t want to freak you out earlier when you propositioned him. But you laying in his bed, pantiless and soaked just for him? Yeah, he’s definitely had this dream before. And he really liked how it ended.

“Are you gonna come all over my fingers? I can feel that you’re close. Tell me what you need.”

“More. I need more,” you whine, lifting your hips off the bed to meet his hand.

“How much more?” he grins. “Do you need more of this?” he asks, curling his fingers even further into your pussy. “Or do you need me to tell you how much of a good slut you’re being right now, with your legs spread open for me and your skirt hiked up to your waist?”

“Definitely both,” you mewl, as the tingles in your body start to grow.

Seungcheol’s fingers purposely slow down, wanting to enjoy this just a moment longer just in case you want to stop before going any further.

“What are you doing? Please don’t stop. Please, ‘Cheol, make me cum,” you beg, one of your arms holding his down between your legs.

“Fuck,” he groans, his length twitching in his pants after hearing your pleas. “Anything for you.”

You throw your head back as your center starts to clench around him.

“Cum for me, Y/N.” His demand sends you crashing. Seungcheol admires the way your face twists in pleasure as you unravel around him.

“Absolutely perfect,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you sweetly for a few seconds. He ends it soon after, noting that there are entirely too many clothes for his liking.

Standing up, he steps back to make the first move to undress and takes off his shirt. He drops it to the floor and looks up at you, soundlessly saying ‘your turn’.

You take a deep breath and push yourself up too. You’re actually doing this.

He watches you like a hawk as you let the fabric of your now-wrinkled skirt fall to the ground. Then, your arms move to your shirt, pulling it over your head and adding it to the growing pile of garments on the floor. Seungcheol sucks in a breath when your hands move behind your back to unclasp your bra, his eyes glued to the lacey fabric that slowly reveals the most beautiful pair of breasts he’s ever seen.

Round, plump, and perfect. Just like the rest of you.

You raise an eyebrow, then drop your hungry gaze to his crotch briefly before looking back up at him, as if to say ‘checkmate’.

Seungcheol sighs, this night keeps getting better and better. His hands work to undo his zipper before he shoves his pants off - boxer briefs quickly falling suit.

Your mouth waters when his length springs out of the falling fabric, bouncing up against his abs. You’ve heard rumors that your best friend was packing, and they don’t disappoint. Damn.

“Look at you, you’re practically drooling,” he says with a smirk, taking a step closer to you as he pumps his velvety length. “Are you a greedy little cockslut?”

Dropping to your knees, you nod frantically. You’re dying to feel the weight of his thick member in your hand, and the taste of his rosy tip.

“Open wide.”

You oblige and let him guide his girth into your mouth.

Seungcheol’s body shudders as you close your mouth around him. He tenses as his length goes further into your wet heat, nearly losing it when he touches the back of your throat.

“Jesus, baby,” he says shakily. He allows you to take over momentarily while he composes himself and nearly cums when you wrap your soft hand around his dick.

“Mmmm,” you hum, making a satisfying ‘pop’ noise when you come back for air. Keeping eye contact, you lower your lips and leave a light kiss under the rim of his head, before devouring his full length again.

His hips jerk from the sudden change of pace, and he sucks in air when your cheeks hollow.

“That’s it,” he purrs, running a hand through your hair. With a handful of your curls, Seungcheol holds your head in place as he thrusts into your inviting open mouth; gently at first but each thrust after has a little more edge to it. You can feel your throat bulging from how far down he goes.

You gag around him, your eyes watering from the intrusion, and you force your jaw to stay relaxed because you don’t want this to end yet.

The way Seungcheol looks down at you with so much admiration and awe has your pussy clenching around nothing.

His thrusts become less powerful but contain more speed, and he lets out a slew of expletives.

“Fuck!” Seungcheol growls, pulling out before it’s too late. He leaves only a string of drool connecting his cock to your mouth. He only wants to cum in one place right now, and that’s inside your pretty little cunt right after he splits it open.

“Get back on the bed and spread your fucking legs for me,” he grunts, pumping his length with the remnants of your spit.

You waste no time getting into position, your pussy practically begging for more attention.

“Such a gorgeous cunt,” he mutters, “I can’t wait to ruin it.”

Seungcheol climbs over you, and you moan simultaneously through your connected lips as his tip meets your hot center.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he admits in between kisses, his length rubbing through your sticky folds before sinking home.

“Oh, god!” you cry out, your hands digging into his tensed back muscles.

“Fuuuck,” he drags out, “You’ve got the tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked,” Seungcheol groans, head falling forward into the crook of your neck once he’s pushed all the way in.

There’s only one word to describe it. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. He savors how good you feel beneath him, how right it feels to be inside you.

“Listen, I appreciate you being gentle given your size,” you pant, “But please fuck me hard, ‘Cheol. I can take it*.*”

That’s all he needs to hear before drastically picking up the pace.

“Yes! Just like that!” you scream, your voice blending in with the sinful slapping sounds echoing between you. He stretches you out in the most wonderful way; you’re close to seeing stars each time he pounds into you.

“Is this what you wanted? To get fucked into my sheets like a nasty little slut? Tell me.” His hand grips the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look at him.

It’s impossible to form words right now, but he can tell by your blissed-out face that you’re clearly getting exactly what you crave.

Seungcheol loves how your breasts bounce in rhythm with his thrusts; he can’t help but grab one, massaging the supple flesh between his fingers.

You melt into his touch and let out a gasp when he pinches your nipple, giving it a gentle twist that sends a wave of heat directly down between your legs.

“Shit,” he curses, feeling you get wetter. You’re close.

His hand slides down your stomach and lands on your clit, expertly massaging the sensitive nub until you’re squirming beneath him.

“Seungcheol! Fuck!” you choke out as your luscious walls constrict around his cock. He helps you ride out the rest of your shockwaves, entranced by your fluttering eyelids and parted lips.

He’s not far behind you. This look of yours alone is enough to snap the coil and release his milky load into you.

He pumps into you one last time, shooting the last of his seed into your depths, before rolling off of you.

You lay next to each other, catching your breath in your post-incredible sex haze.

“Wow,” you sigh.

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” Seungcheol says with a smirk, his head turned to look at you.

“’Cheol, I can’t move,” you admit.

“Throw a leg over my body and I’ll do the rest, baby.”

Again, you oblige, and question when his hands land on your ass cheeks, pulling you up high and higher on his body.

“What are you-” your words are lost when he pulls your hovering lower half onto his face. His tongue wastes no time to find your clit, swirling the bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You cry out when he starts sucking and grab onto his headboard to stop yourself from falling over.

He laps at your opening with his tongue before diving in. Seungcheol doesn’t care that he can taste himself while he eats your sweet cunt, you’re too tempting. He’s intoxicated by your scent, your flavor, you.

“Fuck I’m g-gonna cum again. ‘Cheol- I’m cumming,” you mewl, your hips bucking like crazy from the third wave of ecstasy washing over your body.

His fingers dig into your hips to hold you in place as you writhe against his face, coming completely undone.

You flop back into the space next to Seungcheol, every nerve in your body satiated and spent.

He grins and pulls you into his side, “So, little ‘Cheol might need a quick nap break, but then he’ll be back in business for another round…”

A bubble of laughs bursts out of you.

“I don’t know if little is the right word, my cervix would love to disagree with you on that. I’m down for a nap though, and maybe a snack break to re-energize. We need the calories after that.”

“Deal.”

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©shadowkoo 2025. All rights reserved.

[dobbie-doo]

˗ˏˋ ꒰JUST A LITTLE BIT OLDER꒱ ˎˊ˗ ballader

You know it's wrong. You know it, and yet you melt in his cold hands.

✧ warnings — MDNI + smut ! fem ! reader, loss of virginity, vaginal sex, scara has a dick, finger stimulation,, pet names : "Persephone" + "my dear", some fanon ! Scara, long foreplay, !! cringe !! sex with feelings and a quote at the end.. Sсara is 500 years older than the reader, so so… ✧ minors do not interact. !! ✧ a/n —I love this song (Isabel LaRosa - older) , so I'm writing a fic,, drawing inspiration from a pathetic fragment of the song. Originally, another work was supposed to come out, it's already started, but I decided that it doesn't fit the atmosphere, so… I'll finish it later.. 💋

With cold palms he goes down to your sunken belly, outlining the silhouette with his long, aesthetically thin fingers, and presses on your belly under the navel, forcing you to let out a loud sigh that fills the coastal silence in the bedroom.

Scaramouche is now a puppet master, and you are just a fool..

The divine puppet covers your thin neck with tangible, cold kisses that contrast brightly with your skin, heated with arousal. His kisses should cause you fear, disgust.. But you are silent, you enjoy. Scaramouche stops his deceptively gentle caresses, only to meet your eyes, his gaze is sly, but at the same time gentle..

You can't lie here..You admit to yourself that this puppet is incredibly beautiful, with eyes of a flawless shade - His eyes are like lightning, sparkling in the dark sky, a rich indigo shade that fascinates and attracts the gaze. Sparks of blue slip through them, as if in the depths of the ocean, where light breaks through the thickness of the water.. When he looks at you, it seems that time stops, and the whole world around loses its significance.

Scaramouche, chuckling, slowly intertwined your hand with his, bringing it up, above your head. You seem to get lost in the vastness when his other hand presses on your cheeks to force you to open your mouth, and you, of course, obey. In another kiss, you are caressing each other with your lips excitedly, colliding with your tongues, which migrate from one mouth to another, until the oxygen in your lungs runs out, Balladeer, as if feeling how you are suffocating, slowly moves away from you, smiling, What weak people are.. And even sweet in spite of, he thought.

"Every moment next to you is like a sweet sin that I want to repeat."

"You are my personal hell, into which I dive with pleasure."

You swallow nervously from these phrases, at first glance, these phrases should evoke tenderness and affection, and so it would be, if you did not know Scaramouche well enough.

You want to rise up, to bestow tenderness on his body above you, but the puppet does not give permission, whispers warm words in your ear, convincing that there is no need for that, of course, he is much older, more skilled, the puppet has lived a long life to know all the dark and pleasant corners of human lust. His hand, in the usual black glove on the wrists, with a purple puppet joint that shines so much in the dark bedroom - slides to your thigh, gently stroking. You are in love with his hands.. beautiful, strong, which you can’t tell at first glance.

"In your breath I feel the wind of change.. You are trembling so.. Is it from fear? Or from desire?"

And you are silent.. You do not answer, only moan uncontrollably, writhing under him, the Marionette makes a mocking hum, shaking his head, slightly waving his beautifully ironed blue hair.

"Hmm.. I thought so"

Your knees are shaking when Scaramouche spreads them apart, settling himself more comfortably between them, Scaramouche playfully clings to your right nipple with the pads of his fingers, in response he receives your moan, presses lightly on your pearl, caresses it with a circular motion, and enjoys your first full-fledged moans, playing a melody in his ears. He squeezes your second nipple between his thumb and middle finger, pulls it out experimentally - making sure that it does not hurt you, so that only pleasure splashes in your eyes. And you, not knowing where to place your limbs, so carefully hug Scaramouche's back with your legs. - He smiles. How charming you are.

Your left bud is in his mouth: Scaramouche licks, sucks carefully, forcing your hands to touch his shoulders. He torments your young body sweetly, with his skillful tongue and graceful lips. He wants a deep kiss - but he does not allow himself to raise his head, he retreats back to caresses, because it is too pleasant, it is impossible to tear yourself away, he wants to please you more and more.

Scaramouche is surprisingly incredible in his tenderness, bordering on frantic rudeness; all his actions are neat, thoughtful at first, but as soon as you react somehow, he begins to bite your lips playfully, squinting his fox-like eyes - he presses harder, strokes more noticeably.

You can't breathe when Scaramouche covers your lips, you respond to his kiss invariably, and you delightedly catch the fuse opposite, realizing that soon both of you will burn to ashes, both will turn to ashes. Only ashes.

"I love you," you blurted out as if in delirium, and again you reach for a new kiss, into which Scaramouche smiles with fangs.

"You are now mine, dear, until your very end," and this is much better than the insipid "me too"

The inside of your thigh is attacked by his lips, he kisses you with a loud smacking sound, and you are embarrassed by this, because in your thin underwear the excitement is clearly visible, which smears the fabric of your panties with natural lubrication. Scaramouche, finally settling between your legs, leaving the last kiss on the inside of your thigh, notices your "wet" excitement and praises you for it lovingly, looks piercingly, accompanying his gaze with a frivolous bite, and then the puppet unexpectedly presses his lips to your clitoris organ behind the thin, wet fabric, to which the reaction follows immediately: You shudder, groaning loudly, and your legs at the knees bend in convulsions. Your whole body is a solid erogenous zone; wherever Scaramouche touches, wherever he kisses, your body's responsiveness to every movement is colossal.

Prelude, prelude… stretched out for hours, pushing you to the edge time after time, and then returning to the starting point, returning, Scaramouche teases, mocks, does not let you finish. And you can no longer stand it - you whine shamelessly, you reach for the elastic on your underwear, but they squeeze your wrist, Scaramouche looks at you sternly, and you recognize this look.. Usually he looks at his subordinates like this, or some ordinary stupid people, and when you catch this same look on yourself, you involuntarily want to shrink back.. Scaramouche throws your hand back roughly, does not allow you to take control.

"Let me…" Scaramouche whispers, his gaze softening and he grins cruelly when he sees your obedience.

And you are still lying on the bed, your legs spread apart with force, you surrender to the excitement that is covering you. Scaramouche circles your virgin entrance with his middle finger, and presses very tenderly, you tremble feverishly, frown slightly, but you ask him to continue, because you want more.

Scaramouche touches your cheek with his free hand, stroking it with his thumb, kisses it softly, Scaramouche again makes his way into your tender entrance with two fingers, moving them rhythmically, smiling from the squelching sounds below, and your feminine moans.

"That's it, my Persephone, make those silly sounds for me, show me how you like it.. Show me how good my movements make you feel!

With your moans, and the feeling of wetness and tenderness of your flesh, which is squeezed around his fingers, Scaramouche feels how something begins to harden in his pants.. Hah, and he even forgot about his satisfaction, although, he does not even need it.. But he can not leave his woman in such a position, when she is already ready to give him her purity.. innocence. And he grins, how stupid you had to be to decide to give such a precious thing - your virginity, to a man like him.

You gasp when his fingers are replaced by a member, gracefully curved, and with a purple tip shining, half immersed in your pulsating heat. You scream loudly, letting the tears fall, and Scaramouche almost even vulnerablely presses himself against you, licks the tracks of your salty tears, and whispers in your ear tirelessly about how beautiful you are, how wonderful you are and how incredible. You promise him eternity, swear fidelity with all your being, and firmly say that you will never betray him.. And Scaramouche admits to himself that he wants to believe it.

His thrusts are slow, excruciatingly slow and rough, you can't breathe. At one point you even start to move your hips in response to his thrusts, and Scaramouche throws your leg over his shoulder, crashing into you at a new angle.

The slapping of skin on skin seems loud and vulgar, your loud moans and his quiet growl are lost in the depths of your apartment, and you involuntarily think that you are happy at this very moment. The man you love, exalted by you, looks like a work of art from above you, carved from marble as if by the archons themselves: his body, slender, beautiful, is hidden under the thinnest black turtleneck without sleeves with the golden emblem of the Shogunate on his chest; your man's face is unrealistically beautiful, it is incomparable to anything previously seen, it shines against the background of any celebrity in Teyvat and, in general, it cannot even be compared with the stars in the sky, because it is many times more beautiful. A lot can be said about your beloved, but is it worth it while his dick is pounding into you, tearing more and more moans from your lips?

"Ah..Kabukimono.."

Hearing his first name, pronounced from your lips, Scaramouche seemed to break loose - he began to move his hips into you harder, more passionately, more roughly, wanting to give you pleasure that you had never experienced before, you moaned in his ear so unbridled, loudly, that Scaramouche involuntarily shrank and even hissed, but did not stop pressing himself so close to you and did not slow down your thrusts.

"A-ahhhh..Kabu..Please.."

"Hmm? What are you mumbling about? Didn't you want to be mine completely? Now take me properly my Persephone"

Balladeer looked insanely pleased, fanatical in his desire to destroy and break your body, so that it could only twitch and tremble in endless orgasms, while the room was again filled with his beloved silence.

Real madness.. From the pain you have only an unpleasant memory, and the convulsions in your body are no longer from suffering - you feel too good, the feelings are too bright. It's as if you're burning before his eyes, your consciousness is losing you, already slipping away with every new wave of pleasure and with every cry that escapes your lips.

You seem to catch falling stars with your eyes when you bring your knees together and lose yourself uncontrollably and in orgasm.

And finally, he stops his thrusts and carefully pulls out of you, you're lying on the wet bed, you're all flushed, sweaty, and the balladeer doesn't give a damn! - not even a drop of sweat on him.. Scaramouche breaks away from you and slowly rises above you, his eyes gazing into every hollow of your body, every breath, every movement.

"Hmh..hmm? Hah.."

His gaze stops on a barely noticeable red spot between your legs, further testifying to the fact that you are now his. He lovingly strokes your ribs with his cold hands. Your bitten lips twisted into a satisfied smile, your head was spinning from a mixture of defamine and adrenaline.. So good..

"Are you cold, my dear?" Scaramouche softly pressed his lips to your temple when you nodded shyly, bringing your legs together. Scaramouche carefully put the sheet on you, ruffling your hair. Feeling how your consciousness slowly falls asleep, you calmly fall into the kingdom of Morpheus. Scaramouche, watching you, thought "what a wonderful creature", And even, not afraid of his thoughts, Scaramouche lay down next to you, looking at your relaxed face with awe and obsession, quietly saying;

"In a room full of art, I would still look at you.."

@himasgod @shyentsfoundherink